Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On Friday night, Paula stepped into Henry and Lincoln’s home, shaking off the crisp November chill.
The scent of good food and the low hum of conversation wrapped around her, familiar and welcoming.
She adjusted the weight of the bottle of wine she held and scanned the room, already spotting a few familiar faces.
Lincoln’s work anniversary had drawn quite a crowd. Twenty-five years as a defense lawyer was a hell of a milestone, and from the looks of it, Henry had made sure the celebration was worthy of the achievement.
Paula hadn’t visited their house before and didn’t know what to expect.
She dreaded having to sit through a formal dinner and was relieved it was more like a gathering of friends, even if a few high-powered legal professionals mingled among the guests.
She smiled to herself. The blend of social circles here was something else.
Some people were purely vanilla, others were from Club Indigo, but tonight, none of that mattered.
Or at least, it didn’t seem to matter.
Paula wove her way through the guests, spotting Henry and Lincoln near the fireplace. Lincoln, ever the composed professional, looked perfectly at ease as he spoke with an older couple. Henry stood beside him, his gaze flicking over the room in a quiet, ever-watchful way.
She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. “Lincoln, congratulations.” She smiled, shifting the wine bottle. “And Henry, you, too.”
Lincoln turned to her, his expression warming as he extended a hand. “Paula, thank you. I appreciate it.”
Henry’s eyes twinkled with something close to amusement. “A very well-earned milestone,” he said, resting a hand on Lincoln’s back. “And you brought wine, I see.”
Paula held it out. “It’s from a vineyard in California—small, family-owned. I thought you might like it.”
Lincoln took the bottle and studied the label, his mouth curling slightly in appreciation. “Ah. I’ve been to this one before. They do excellent work, especially with their reds. This will pair well with dinner tonight.” He met her gaze, tilting his head slightly. “Good choice.”
Paula’s lips twitched. “I’ll admit I had help picking it out, but I’ll take the credit.”
Lincoln chuckled. Before he could say more, another small group of well-wishers moved toward them.
Henry gave her a knowing look. “Go check out the buffet table and enjoy yourself.”
Paula took the hint and excused herself, heading toward the long dining table laden with an assortment of dishes.
She hovered for a moment, trying to decipher what she was looking at.
There were things she recognized—cheese platters, roasted meats, some kind of pasta—but plenty that she didn’t that included fancy little appetizers balanced on crisp crackers, skewers of something that looked suspiciously like calamari, a glistening bowl of caviar she was hesitant to get anywhere near.
She bit her lip. I’m definitely more of a burger-and-fries girl.
As she debated between something safe and something adventurous, a woman stepped up beside her.
“Don’t let the fancy setup fool you,” the woman said lightly. “Most of it tastes better than it looks.”
Paula turned her head and immediately recognized her. The dark-skinned woman was striking, poised, and familiar, but it took Paula a second to place her. Then it clicked.
She’d seen her at Club Indigo.
Paula straightened slightly. “We haven’t met, but I saw you at the—uh—the bar last Saturday.” She extended a hand. “Paula Stone.”
“Yes, that was me.” The woman shook her hand, her grip confident and sure. “I’m Sonja Madden, by the way. You were with Jackson, right?”
“Yes, I was.” Paula felt a flicker of unease. What was the etiquette when meeting kinky people outside the club? Was it supposed to be acknowledged? Ignored?
Sonja, apparently, had no such reservations. She gave a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, it’s not like we all wear badges or something. Most people here wouldn’t have the faintest clue we know each other from somewhere else .”
That earned a small laugh from Paula and eased some of her tension.
Sonja picked up a small skewer of meat, inspecting it before popping it into her mouth. “So, you’re new to all this?”
“The food or the lifestyle?”
Sonja threw back her head and laughed, which earned them a few glances. “I was referring to the lifestyle.”
Paula hesitated. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I was, too, once,” Sonja said. Then, with a curious tilt of her head, she asked, “You know my Daddy?”
Paula blinked. Daddy in this context wasn’t exactly a family thing. “Your—oh.” Movement behind Sonja, drew her attention. “Derek Kiriakis?”
Sonja nodded, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s the one.”
“I know him,” Paula said, relaxing somewhat. “We’ve worked on some cases together before.”
Sonja grinned. “Well, we all have our private lives, but Derek’s great. Strict as hell, but great.”
Derek joined them and hugged Sonja from behind. “Hey, Paula.”
Paula inclined her head. “Derek.”
They spoke casually for a few more minutes, the conversation flowing more easily than Paula had expected. Sonja was sharp, observant, and refreshingly direct.
As they chatted, Paula’s gaze drifted across the room, settling once again on Henry and Lincoln.
Henry stood near the dessert table, chatting with someone, while Lincoln lingered just behind him, holding a plate of cake. Paula watched as Henry finished his conversation, and without a word, Lincoln turned, extending the plate toward him and lowered his head.
It wasn’t offering. It was serving.
Henry accepted it with a small nod, as if this was second nature, and only after Henry took his first bite and gave a subtle nod, did Lincoln take his own.
Paula swallowed.
Most people wouldn’t even notice. To the vanilla guests, it probably just looked like politeness, but she saw it for what it was.
Damn.
It wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t a spectacle, but it was intimate . Deeply ingrained, it was trust and balance, a dynamic so fluid it didn’t need words.
It wasn’t about control in the way she’d always imagined it—domination, submission, loss of agency. It was about attunement.
Henry and Lincoln moved like two pieces of the same whole, their understanding of each other so absolute that no orders needed to be given.
Her mouth went dry.
It was hot.
And, fuck, that thought terrified her.
You don’t need that.
She was independent. Strong. She had a good life, a career she loved. She didn’t need a man—let alone a Master.
But a small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Lincoln is a strong, successful professional, and he thrives with a Master.
She tightened her grip on her plate.
She turned back to Sonja, who was watching her with quiet amusement, as if she knew exactly what was going through Paula’s head.
Paula lifted her chin slightly, forcing a smirk. “So. What is this, anyway?” She gestured at the food. “Something I’ll regret?”
Sonja laughed. “Depends on how brave you are.”
Paula exhaled, shaking off the thoughts crowding her mind. Later. She could deal with them later.
For now, she had a party to enjoy.
“Hey, baby.”
Paula turned as if she’d been stung. “Jackson?”
He smirked. “Didn’t you know I was invited, too?”
“I didn’t, but… it makes sense,” she admitted, her voice slightly off.
She glanced around the room, between the guests, the furniture—anywhere but him or Henry and Lincoln.
Jackson narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her. What’s going through that sharp mind of yours?
Mere moments ago, she’d been riveted by Henry and Lincoln’s interaction. He’d seen the way she’d locked onto them, the subtle tell of her breath catching, the way she’d pressed her lips together and turned back to the food table, like she was trying to shut down a reaction.
Could she even articulate what had captivated her?
Or is it something you don’t want to admit to yourself yet?
It made him wonder—had he simply never caught on to her submissive streak before? Had he been so enmeshed in his past relationship with Monica that he’d missed the cues Paula had been giving him all along?
The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, the scent of good food still lingering in the air.
The party had mellowed slightly, with some guests settling into quieter conversations.
An empty spot was available near the French doors leading to the patio, and without a word, he reached out, placing his hand lightly at the small of Paula’s back.
He barely had to apply pressure before she responded, allowing him to guide her toward the quieter space.
Perfect.
Satisfaction curled low in his gut. She might not have noticed it, but she’d followed his lead without hesitation.
It was something he’d always found beautiful about the lifestyle—partners moving together, instinctively attuned to each other.
He didn’t only want that in play. He wanted it in everything .
That was why the 24/7 TPE lifestyle was his kind of kink.
They reached the edge of the room, and as they paused, Paula turned slightly toward him.
“That was impressive,” she murmured.
Jackson lifted a brow, a slow smile tugging at his lips. He was pretty damn sure what she meant, but he asked anyway. “What was?”
Paula’s expression was still conflicted, like she was sorting through unfamiliar territory in her mind.
“Henry and Lincoln.” She shook her head, her voice tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.
“I can’t explain it. The way Lincoln served him—Henry didn’t have to say a word, and Lincoln just knew .
He was completely tuned in. And he—” She exhaled, as if trying to find the right words.
“He was relaxed in it. Like it was second nature.”
Jackson tilted his head, watching her intently. You see it now, don’t you?