Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sophie
“Start with the worst part,” Piper says.
I stare at her across the small café table. “I genuinely have no idea which part that is.”
Her eyebrows rise.
I wrap both hands around my coffee, buying myself another few seconds even though I’m the one who asked her to meet me. All morning I’ve been trying to sort through last night, and every time I think I have a handle on one piece, another one crashes into it.
Finally I exhale. “I went to the Retreat.”
Piper almost drops her cup. “You what?”
“That’s where Lucian and Caleb took me after we went wedding-dress shopping.”
“You know that I’m going to need all the details. Alllll of them.”
I’m not sure I can tell her everything. But of course, I’m so confused; that was why I needed to see her after tossing and turning all night.
“Let’s start at the beginning. Did you meet Altair?”
“Yeah. On the second floor.”
She blinks. “There’s a second floor?”
Oh my God. I remember the biometric security. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything. “I think it’s his personal domain.”
“A lair, probably.”
I grin. “Anyway, I get what you mean about his eyes and his presence.”
“Okay, so then what happened?”
I shake my head, and I have to put down my cup because I’m afraid of spilling my mocha. “I’m not sure I understand any of it.”
She frowns a little bit. “What do you mean?”
I glance toward the neighboring tables. There are too many people. Too many ears. Too many moms with little kids.
Without needing to discuss it, we collect our drinks and head outside.
A few minutes later we’re walking along Buffalo Bayou, surrounded by joggers, cyclists, dogs, and enough ordinary life that last night almost seems impossible.
Almost.
“I thought I would hate the Retreat,” I admit. “Not just dislike it. Hate it. I thought I’d walk in, see what they were into, and know for certain that I wanted nothing to do with any of it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
I tell her about the way I feel, more than what I saw. “The person with the power was paying attention the entire time,” I say slowly. “And the other person—the sub, I guess?—was the entire focus of attention. As if her pleasure was the only thing that mattered.”
She nods. “That’s right.”
“And then…” I tell her about the scene we watched. “She was enjoying herself. He knew it. She knew he knew it. Then he kept getting her close to an orgasm and stopping.”
Piper winces sympathetically. “That can be brutal.”
“I know.”
“Oh.” Her gaze sharpens. “Do tell.”
Heat rushes into my face.
And because I need to understand it myself, I wait until after we cross the street, and then I tell her about the private room. About Lucian asking me to submit to them of my own free will. And worse, the way I had. “I could have used my safe word. I could have told them I wanted to leave.”
“But you needed to know, didn’t you.”
Mortified, I nod.
“It’s totally normal.” Piper loops her arm through mine as we continue walking.
“I liked some of it,” I finally whisper.
There. I said it.
And the world doesn’t crack open.
No lightning bolt strikes me dead.
I’m still Sophie Langford.
“And when he praised me…” I shake my head violently. “God, I don’t even want to talk about that.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted more.”
“I could mainline praise.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
She pulls me to a stop, and we sink onto a park bench beneath a live oak tree.
“Keep this in mind.” She considers me over her cup. “You don’t have to decide today whether you’re submissive or kinky or anything else. You’re allowed to just say, I liked that particular thing with those particular men.”
Those particular men.
That may be the biggest problem of all.
Because I don’t know whether I would have reacted that way with anyone else.
And I really don’t want to examine that question too closely.
“There’s something else.”
She slurps the bottom of the cup through her straw. “I figured there had to be.”
“The spanks were because I masturbated when they told me not to.”
And then I tell her all about the cameras.
Her mouth falls open. “They were watching you in your apartment?”
“Were,” I agree. “Past tense. But last night when they dropped me off, they told me to masturbate so that they could watch from the penthouse.”
Even though she’s the one with the experience, she’s looking at me as if this is some entirely new form of crazy. “So what did you do? Put on a show for them?”
“I destroyed the cameras.”
She laughs. “You didn’t!”
“Every last one of them.”
“I’m so fucking proud of you. Great job.”
I’m so glad she met me. I’d spent all night and all morning struggling with this entire mess. Everything is tangled: the Retreat, the cameras, the way my body reacted, the fact I stayed when I could have left.
Piper seems to understand.
“You can like what happened between the three of you at the club and still be furious about the cameras.”
I look at her.
“Those aren’t the same thing, Soph. You chose what happened in that private room. They gave you a safe word. The cameras?” She shakes her head. “They made that decision for you. That’s not consent.”
I nod. She’s completely right.
“Look, Sophie. I know you have to marry them, but you need some boundaries. Spying on you is way over the line.”
I finish my drink and drop the cup into the trash can that’s next to us.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a good spanking if you want one.”
We keep walking.
For the first time since I woke, my thoughts aren’t quite as tangled.
By mutual consent, we end up at our favorite place to eat on the Bayou. It serves small plates, and it is ridiculously close to the Retreat, which Piper points out.
“Maybe I’ll see you there sometime.”
We wander into a few shops, mostly because I’m in no hurry to go home.
But all day, my phone has been stubbornly silent.
No Lucian.
No Caleb.
I should be relieved, but I know better. Experience has taught me that they’ll act. And that I won’t like it.
At the end of the day, I climb the stairs to my door, realizing how tired I am from the long day, lack of sleep, and always being on guard.
I slide the key into the lock, turn it, and…
Nothing happens.
The mechanism refuses to catch, even when I jiggle it.
What the…?
A shadow detaches from the deeper darkness near the stairwell, and my stomach plummets hard, a cold swoop that leaves me breathless. Caleb steps forward, his broad frame solid and unmistakable even in the dim hallway light. His dark eyes lock onto mine, calm and unreadable.
My keys slip in my suddenly damp palm. “Caleb—”
He moves closer, his presence filling the narrow space, the familiar scent of him wrapping around me. His voice is low, matter-of-fact, carrying that steely edge that always seems to slide straight under my skin. “Lucian is waiting for you at home. Were you still wondering how we deal with brats?”