Chapter 2
Dane
“To friends.” Drake lifts his glass and clanks it against mine at the same time as Easton.
“To friends,” I mumble. I’m damn lucky to have them and grateful they put up with my moping once a year. I tip back my scotch and take a hearty sip. I should probably pace myself. Drunk is good. Shitfaced is over the top.
Easton’s phone vibrates on his desk, and he leans over to pick it up. “Sorry,” he mouths. The guys own this club. I wouldn’t expect them to shut off all communications with the first two floors just because I’m with them.
Easton nods, a funny gesture when people are on the phone. Why do we always forget that the caller can’t see our body language? “Yep. Okay. Let me know if you need anything. We’ll keep an eye on her.”
Drake glances at Easton as his twin ends the call. “What was that about?”
“New member. This is her first night on the second floor. Marny says she seems skittish, so she’s trying to find someone to give her a tour. The monitors are keeping an eye on her, but Marny wanted us to have a heads-up.”
I swirl my drink around in the glass, staring at it, half listening.
Drake leans over one of the monitors. “That must be her.”
Easton looks closer. “Yep. Skittish, all right. She’s rubbing her hands together like she’s never been to a fetish club before.” He turns back to me. “Sorry about that. We like to make sure new members are taken care of and feel welcome.”
I nod. “I get it. The first night at any club can be daunting, even if you’ve already belonged to others.”
“Especially submissive women,” Drake adds.
I take another sip from my glass, set it on the end table next to the loveseat, and sigh. Maybe this was a bad idea. I can’t even bring myself to drink. I’m horrible company.
“How’s the security business?” Drake asks.
“It’s good.”
“You’ve been working your ass off lately,” Easton says. “You should take some time off.”
Time off… What a concept. What would I do? Go on vacation? The idea makes me smirk.
Easton glances at the monitor and winces. “Damn, she’s green.”
“Think we should be concerned? Maybe one of us should go down there and check on her,” Drake says.
I’ll do it. I stand. I need to move around anyway. But what the fuck am I thinking? I’m terrible company. I could go down and give the new girl a tour, but I’d probably end up snapping at her and sending her running from the building.
Nope. I need the distraction. It will keep me from drowning my sorrows or working out until three in the morning. “I’ll go.”
Easton and Drake both spin to look at me.
Easton’s eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod. I’m out of my fucking mind. “No problem. I’ll do it.” I step closer to the monitor. “Point her out to me.” The monitors are state-of-the-art. Full color. Nothing granular in this office. Not surprising for the two men I just jokingly suggested could teleport people to the moon. Half joking. If anyone could do it, it would be Easton and Drake Riley.
I set a hand on the desk next to Easton as he points to a woman hovering near the entrance. She’s barely stepped into the club. I take in her outfit so I’ll be able to spot her when I get downstairs. Short black leather skirt, black corset, black knee-high boots. Her hair is blond and hangs halfway down her back. I can’t see her face, but I have enough details to recognize her in the crowd.
Suddenly, she lifts a hand and rubs her forehead with her thumb on one side and pointer and middle finger on the other. She stands taller, inhales slowly, and arches her spine.
I stop breathing. She looks so much like…
It can’t be. It’s not possible. My imagination must be playing tricks on me. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve thought I saw my dead girlfriend in the past three years, I’d be rich. I’m rich anyway, but richer.
The woman holds that position. Paige always did that when she was trying to be brave or thinking really hard. Same exact stance. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. This woman is blond. Oh, and my girlfriend is dead.
There’s that also.
“Are you okay?” Easton asks.
I slowly nod. “She just… She looks so much like Paige.”
Easton rests a hand on my shoulder. “Her name is Shannon.”
I keep staring. “Right,” I mutter. “Well, I’ll go check on her.”
“You sure?” Drake asks. They’re both standing now.
I nod. “I’m good.” I’m not good, but I need to go face this woman to prove she’s not Paige. I’ll confront her, see for myself, and then give her a tour.
I turn and leave the office, enter the stairwell, and take the steps three at a time. My heart is racing for no reason. I’m being so irrational. It’s not Paige. It’s not possible. She died. I’m on the other side of the country, but that doesn’t matter because she’s dead . What the fuck is wrong with me?
When I bust into the reception area on the second floor, Marny jumps and puts a hand over her heart. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” I keep walking straight past her and open the door to the club. I scan the area. The woman on the monitor was standing right next to this door ten seconds ago. Now, she’s not. I look in both directions and spot her. She has her back to me. She’s heading toward the bathrooms.
I follow her, trying to slow the fuck down when she enters one of the individual stalls that are marked for all genders and disabled people.
I wait. I’m going to freak this woman out when she emerges because I’m too close to the door. Seconds tick by, and then minutes. I’m certain I saw her go in there. Is my mind playing tricks on me? I really should head home and go to bed. I’m losing it. I’ve resorted to following a stranger through a club on my dead girlfriend’s birthday.
What’s taking her so long? She’s probably trying to build up the nerve to wander deeper into the club. Submissives can be extremely nervous when they first join a club alone. It’s understandable.
Suddenly, the door opens, and I quickly tuck my fingertips in the front of my pockets, trying to look less like a deranged lunatic.
The woman stops short since I’m practically blocking her. When she tips her head back to meet my gaze, I gasp, and all the blood drains from my face. I stare at her without blinking while time stops. I’m shaking.
It’s her. It’s also not her. Yes, it’s her . I lick my lips. “Paige…” The word comes out of my mouth like a prayer. A mere whisper.
She jerks her gaze away from me and shakes her head. “My name is Shannon.” She starts walking, picking up her pace to put space between us.
I spin around and follow her.
She hurries for the exit, pushes through the door, and disappears.
I shake myself from my stunned stupor and jog to close the distance. As soon as I bust into the reception area, I see her exiting into the stairwell.
“Is everything okay?” Marny asks.
I rush past her, ignoring her. I’ll apologize later. I bust into the stairwell and find the woman already halfway down the steps. I take four at a time, unable to stop myself from grabbing her arm forcefully to stop her.
She tries to jerk free. “Let go of me. I don’t know you.”
The fuck she doesn’t. This is not some doppelg?nger. She may have different color hair and eyes, but her voice has not changed. “Paige.” I grip both her biceps and press her against the wall in the stairwell. “Holy fuck…” I’m staring at a ghost.
“I don’t know you.” She looks away.
“Yes, you do. What’s going on? How are you alive? What are you doing here?” I shake her. “Answer me.” About ten different emotions are running through me, but the one winning right now is anger.
Her eyes go wide as she turns back to look at me.
I instantly switch to relieved and pull her into my embrace, holding her close. I bury my face in her hair. It may be the wrong color, but it smells the same. Burnt vanilla, she always called it.
She’s rigid in my arms, not hugging me back.
I feel like I’ve tumbled into another dimension. Nothing makes sense. I can’t let her go, though. If I’m asleep, I never want to wake up. My brain is desperate for answers while this woman remains stiff in my arms. She’s no longer fighting me, at least.
Suddenly, I have a thought. I hold her back again and look into her eyes. “Do you have amnesia?”
Tears trail down her face. She stares at me. “You should let me go,” she whispers. “You never saw me. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Paige…”
“Shannon,” she corrects, looking around. No one else is in the stairwell. No one can hear her, but I get the feeling she’s praying that no one has heard her real name.
“Okay, Shannon…”
She glances up and down the stairs again. “I can’t be here.”
I take her hand firmly in mine and nearly drag her back up the steps.
“Dane…”
I jerk my head back to look at her. “You know my fucking name.” I’m angry once more. I was about to give her some slack for having amnesia, but she knows my name.
She purses her lips.
I keep walking, pulling her behind me. When I reach the second-floor landing, I stop at the door that leads to the third floor, type in my code, and open it.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks, her voice strained. Scared.
I don’t reply. I keep moving up the steps, gripping her hand so hard it must hurt. I’m so angry right now; I can’t face her. I don’t understand what the fuck is going on, but I want answers.
Three years. I’ve spent three years pining over this woman, and she’s been… She’s been what? Fucking living her life with blond hair and fucking blue eyes?
I use my code to open the door at the top of the stairs, my hand shaking so badly that I’m surprised I pushed the right numbers. When I yank it open, Drake and Easton are in the hallway.
“What’s going on?” Easton asks.
I’m seething. My nostrils flare. I march past the owners, heading for my private studio apartment.
“Dane,” Drake shouts. “What the fuck, man?”
I reach my apartment and punch in my private code, once again stunned when it works. As I open it, Drake catches up with us. He knocks my hand out of the way, causing the door to shut. “Can’t let you do this, man. Talk to me.” He shifts his gaze to Paige. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
I glance at Paige. She’s shaking. Her eyes are wide. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. “Tell him,” I scream at her. “Tell him who you are so we can go into my apartment, and you can fucking explain what the motherfucking hell is going on.”
She flinches and leans back, but she doesn’t tug her hand free. She lowers her gaze and mutters, “Fuck.”
“Yep. Fuck is the primary word on my mind. Now, are you going to come into my apartment with me on your own accord, or do I need to drag you?”
“I’ll go.” She lifts her gaze to Drake. “Please…”
Drake’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to go with him, Shannon. I don’t care if he is one of my best friends. I’ll call security and have him thrown out. Just say the word.”
I glare at her.
She slowly shakes her head. “I was going to say, please don’t tell anyone about this. It’s not…safe. Please,” she begs.
Drake frowns.
Easton is next to him now. “We won’t mention a word. I’ll call Marny now and make sure she won’t either. But she’s discreet. She would never tell a soul anything she saw here.”
Drake draws in a breath. “Is it true? Are you Paige?”
She swallows. “Don’t say that name. Paige is dead. Do not utter it again.”
Drake sighs. “Okay. There’s a red button on the wall in the bathroom and another attached to the underside of the spanking bench. If you push either of them, one of us will be inside the apartment immediately.”
She nods. She’s still shaking, but she’s slightly calmer. “Thank you.”
I’m not calmer. Not one bit. I type in my code again, open the door, and reach in to flip on the light. I’m still gripping Paige’s hand tightly, but she follows me and doesn’t try to escape.
The door shuts with a resounding click as though sealing off another part of my life.
I’ve led two lives—before Paige and after Paige. Now, I’m entering a third. The return of Paige from the dead.