Steve 27.
Today has been exhausting. And not in a fun way. I wish my body felt like Jell-O from Rowan’s hands or mouth or cock, I’m not picky. Instead, I’ve spent the entire day fielding phone calls, answering emails, reassuring employees that everything at Wainwright Enterprises and the Queen’s Rook is well in hand. And then, there was the lengthy conversation with Chief Thomas and a couple detectives, Mercury, and Brooks. It was interesting and not a little scary to learn there were two shooters the other night. No leads just yet on the sender of the email, but at least they’ve confirmed one of the shooters to be the man that shot Gretchen a few months ago. The other shooter is unknown and probably the same person from the email or at least connected somehow.
Two things are preserving my sanity at this point. The first is my time with Rowan. My nights have been spent exploring Rowan’s body and our daddy/boy dynamic. Rowan has dabbled in the kink life, but never went all in. And since I’ve always tried to keep my private life private, I don’t have any experience with it at all. We’re finding what works for us. I haven’t been with other club members since Rowan claimed me, but we both look forward to adding more to our sexual repertoire soon.
The second is Chase. The last year with the GGMC has been incredible, but I’ve missed Chase. Our time together has been severely limited and mostly centered on business. At Jupiter’s urging, since the second shooter has not been identified or captured, let alone what their end game is, Chase has been staying at the clubhouse and thoroughly enjoying himself. That twink is going to overdose on cock if he doesn’t slow down devouring the smorgasbord available at the clubhouse. Hell, he’d probably consider it an apt and glorious way to go.
Shaking off my thoughts, I drag the cursor over the Queen’s Rook payroll file from Chase, open it and electronically authorize the paychecks. I briefly glance at the door when someone knocks, muttering, “Come in” while finishing up.
“Mr. Valje—”
“Archie.” I growl in frustration at my head of security. He shrugs with a smirk.
“A package was delivered for you at the front door.” Turning away from the computer, I stand up and meet Archie halfway, eyeing the decently large box in his hands.
“Who’s it from?”
“There isn’t a return address.” I raise an eyebrow at him, he nods at the box, “It was delivered by courier.”
“Huh.” I point at the coffee table in front of my office couch. He sets it down, then produces a pocketknife from his back pocket. “What have we got?” He pulls back the flaps of the box revealing feather boas in bright colors. “Costumes?” I pull out the multitudes of feathers and frown. Picking up the first file folder, I open it, and my breath catches in my throat. Dropping it like it’s on fire, I pick up the next and the next and the next. 25 folders, one for each of my employees and associates at the Queen’s Rook . Surveillance photos, bank records, family bios, pics of my queens in various stages of undress in the dressing room…a gross invasion of privacy. Some of my employees, including Archie, the queens, even a few of the waitstaff do not advertise where they work or what they do. I take great pains to ensure they maintain their anonymity while being free to be themselves and earn a living.
I look up at Archie sharply, my neck twinging at the speed. “Archie? What is this? Who delivered it?” He’s staring at the pile of file folders, the contents spilling out over the glass coffee table, some falling to the floor.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Brad. Find Brad, have him pull the security footage for the delivery. I’m going to call Mercury and Da—Rowan. The police, I’m going to call the police.” I’m not ashamed of my relationship with Rowan, but…privacy. I’m sure Archie has already figured it out, though, I don’t want to discuss it just yet. One last file folder peeks out from under one of the flaps in the box. Stomach in knots, I slip it from the box and open it with shaky hands. “No. No.”
Me. Chase. Me and Rowan in this very office, my bare ass in the air as I lay over his lap. Another shows Chase sitting at my desk sucking on a pacifier as he works.
I scramble for my desk, grab my cell phone and hit the button for Mercury. He answers on the second ring.
“Steve Vajeen—”
“They have cameras in MY office!” I hiss into the phone, my head on a swivel, my eyes darting from corner to corner. I don’t see any cameras so they must be hidden well, how else could they have those photos?
“Steve. Take a deep breath. Are you in immediate danger?”
I shake my head, then remember he’s on the phone. “No.”
“That’s good. Is someone with you?” I look up at my head of security.
“Archie.”
“Archie, I need you to secure Steve in the safe room until my brothers, and a certain prospect, can get there.”
“Yes, sir.” Archie practically picks me up as he marches us to the bookshelf behind my desk. He removes his suit jacket and holds it up to block any camera views so I can pull three books for the lock to unlatch. Archie pushes me into the hidden room once he opens the door.
Just before he shuts it in my face, I remember, “Chase!” The straight lines of Archie’s grim expression drop into a frown. He glances over his shoulder, back at me and nods curtly. I barely notice him closing the door, my mind already on what happens next. I sit at the small desk and type in my password, bringing the monitors along the wall to life. Fuck! Whoever it is, doesn’t have cameras of their own, they hacked into our security system and are using it against us.
I almost giggle watching Chase flail from his perch on Archie’s shoulder. I decide to keep that amusement to myself and unlock the safe room door instead. Archie drops Chase inside unceremoniously and spins on his booted heel while I close the door once more.
“That motherfucking giant asshole!”
“Chase.”
“How dare he! The audacity! He put hands on me. And didn’t even touch my dick or my ass! It’s my best feature and he just ignored it and went straight to kidnapping!”
“Chase.”
What’s going on? Why are we in here? Why is Archie all growly?” All amusement gone, I wind up and slap Chase across the face. We blink in stunned silence, staring at one another with wide eyes. “You…you…slapped me.”
“I did.” I can’t believe I did that. Chase smirks, turns around and presents his ass.
“Do it again. Harder, brother!”
“We aren’t in a cheesy faux-cest porn, Chase Davidson. Get yourself together and focus.”
Pouting, he straightens up and faces me, his arms crossing over his chest, his hip jutting out. “Focus on what?” He waves his hand around the empty safe room.
“I received a package today.”
He drops his arms to his sides and leans closer with a salacious grin. “Rowan’s package? Did you two finally fuck?”
“No.” I sigh, a little disappointed to admit, “And no, we still haven’t fucked. That’s not the point. The package from a courier that arrived here at the club filled with intimate and confidential information and stalker photos of each of the Rook’s employees.”
“Shit.” Chase moves to the desk chair and plops down, his body resembling a wet noodle. Fettuccine, perhaps. Bucatini, maybe Linguine. Dammit, not important.
“Yeah.” I sit down on the small couch next to the desk, open the mini fridge and grab us each a water.
“Did you call—”
“Mercury has been notified. He and the others will be here shortly.”
“And Daddy?” I growl at my best friend.
“My Daddy will more than likely be here as well.”
“He’s going to spank your ass bright red for not calling him first.” I slide to my side and lay down in the fetal position.
“Yeah.” I’m hoping he will realize that notifying the club, a patched member and tech guy, was the right thing to do instead of calling a prospect. Not that Daddy is a prospect in my mind, but to the club he still is. My instinct was to follow club protocol. “You think Drusilla or one of the other ol’ partners will intercede on my behalf and convince him NOT to blister my behind?”
“Did you hit your head on the way in here?” His fingers grip my hair and pull my head toward him to inspect for damage. I smack his hands, and we end up fighting like human windmills. When we’re both winded and give up, he sits back in his seat and stares at me. “Actually, I don’t think your daddy will punish you, knowing that you did the right thing. However, if he insists…I volunteer as tribute!”
“Bitch!” Before I can smack him again, he points at the monitor. “Daddy!” I cry out, type in the code to unlock the safe room door, fling it open and rush into Rowan’s arms. He picks me up, I wrap my legs around his thick waist and hold on as emotions get the better of me. His steady breath, the calm beating of his heart soothes me. He’s worried for me, but I’m safe with him.
“I’ve got you, baby boy,” he coos in my ear, “I’ve got you.”
“I need emotional comfort as well,” Chase deadpans at my back. Twisting in Daddy’s arms, I watch Nessy pat Chase on the shoulder, a little too hard.
“There, there, purple haired little man.”
Chase pins Nessy with a wicked glare. “You’d think you could remember the name of the man who brought you and your women refreshments while you soiled the clubroom furniture with your…discharges.”
Mercury coughs into his fist, “Uh, might be more difficult than you think. You aren’t the first one to act as waterboy to those three.”
Nessy glows with pride. “We like to fuck. And the pregnancy has made them both squirters.”
“Goddammit, Nessy!” Mars smacks him in the back of the head. “Get to work.”
Nessy nods at Mars, but he looks at me and Chase with a grin. His hands bounce off each other as he makes a whooshing noise. “Like a fire hose! Ow! I’m going, I’m going!” Nessy points a finger aggressively at Mars, “I’m filing a complaint with HR!”