Chapter 23
The district attorney's office was only a mile from the Lounge, but the distance between his public persona and the man on all fours before me was immeasurable.
"Fucking crawl to me like the cockroach you are."
His eyes, the same ones that stared down murderers and mobsters in court, now gazed up at me with desperate hunger as he crawled across the polished concrete floor. His expensive suit jacket and dress shirt lay discarded in the corner, his bare torso flushed with exertion and anticipation.
He’d told me he’d lost his case today and needed to be punished. He hadn’t gotten justice for his client, and one of Azzaro’s men had walked free. I took the riding crop and lifted his chin with its leather tip. "Mr. District Attorney, you've been very bad today, haven't you?"
He nodded, a whimper escaping his lips.
He shifted slightly, adjusting his weight on his hands and knees. That small act of self-comfort earned him three sharp strikes across his shoulders. I flogged him methodically, watching welts rise on his skin like a signature I was writing across his body.
"On the table," I commanded, my voice low and dangerous.
He complied immediately, lying face-up on the bondage table. I secured his wrists and ankles with padded cuffs, leaving him spread eagle and vulnerable. His cock was hard and leaking pre-cum down the length of it.
"Please, Lady E," he whispered, all traces of his courtroom authority dissolved.
I circled him slowly, my black leather boots clicking against the floor, metal stiletto heels punctuating each step with a threat. The violet wand hummed to life in my hand, its electrostatic energy crackling as I brought it near his skin.
"Silence," I ordered, tracing the wand along his chest, watching him writhe and gasp as the current danced across his skin. Small, thin red lines slowly rose along the path, marking him as my little cockroach.
I worked my way down his body, teasing and torturing, building his need. When I finally circled his cock with the wand, I could see how close he was to exploding. As I swiped a finger through his pre-cum, he watched as I slowly licked it off the tip, and his hips bucked involuntarily.
"Please," he begged, sweat beading on his forehead. "I need to . . . I can't hold back . . . Please let me—"
"Your release is mine," I reminded him, increasing the intensity. "Only I decide when you deserve it."
His face contorted with the effort of restraint, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He'd been so good today, following every command, accepting every punishment for his failings in court. Since he had taken everything I’d given him, I decided to reward him.
"You may come," I whispered, pressing the wand directly against his balls, just the way I knew he loved.
His entire body convulsed as he cried out, his release shooting high into the air and landing on his stomach. I watched with clinical satisfaction, the same way I imagined he watched juries deliver guilty verdicts.
When his breathing finally steadied, I leaned close to his ear. "Same time next week, Mr. District Attorney?"
“Yes, ma’am.”
After he cleaned up and redressed, he lingered at the doorway, one hand on the knob, hesitating. I could see the transformation beginning already—the district attorney persona sliding back into place like armor. His shoulders straightened and his chin lifted. But he wasn't quite there yet.
"Elin," he said, his voice caught somewhere between command and question. "I've been meaning to ask you something."
I raised an eyebrow. "This sounds official."
"The Azzaro family." He watched my face carefully. "Just because we lost today, doesn’t mean that we will stop going after them. My office has been tracking their movements. Your club appears on their financial statements."
I kept my expression neutral as I surgically cleaned my instruments. "After my father died, we became partners. They're investors in several businesses around the city. Mine included."
"How close is that relationship, exactly?" His eyes narrowed. "Off the record."
"They're business partners. Nothing more." I placed the violet wand in its velvet-lined case.
He stepped back into the room, the door still half-open. "Come on, Elin. This is the Azzaro family. I know you hear things. See things. The Azzaros don't just invest in businesses without . . . involvement."
I set down the cleaning cloth and turned to face him fully. His posture had changed—he'd forgotten himself, forgotten where he was and who I was. The district attorney was fully present now, interrogating a potential witness.
This will not do.
“Who am I?”
“Lady E.”
I stepped closer, towering over him in my heels that added another four inches to my height. "That's right. I am Lady E, and you are my cockroach. How dare you forget who you are in this room."
His shoulders slumped instantly, the authoritative posture crumbling as his eyes dropped to the floor. A visible tremor ran through his body—the same man who commanded courtrooms now quivered before me.
"I don't care if you are the fucking DA. You walked through that door of your own free will and want, and you are mine to control. You don't get to ask questions that relate to outside this room. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Lady E." His voice was stripped of all its courtroom confidence. His hands fidgeted at his sides, like he sought permission even to move.
"Now, touch yourself," I commanded suddenly, my voice dropping to that dangerous register.
"What?" He blinked, disoriented by the shift.
"Put your hand on your cock. Right now."
His hand moved reflexively toward his groin, and when he had his cock, I didn’t miss the slight wince.
I stepped closer. "This will be the last time. You don't touch yourself again. Not once. Not until our next session. That's your punishment for forgetting your place."
The color drained from his face as he realized his mistake. "I didn't mean to—"
"You're forbidden release. For a week. Do you understand?" A spike of adrenaline pulsed through me at how he instantly became my cockroach again. "Now leave. And remember who owns your pleasure."
He nodded stiffly and backed out, closing the door behind him. I exhaled slowly, my mind racing. The Azzaros had been asking questions too—about the district attorney's office, about investigations, about evidence. I was becoming an unwilling conduit between two dangerous forces.
Once the DA was in the hallway, I stepped out behind him a moment later. “Erik.” He turned and gave me a questioning look. “If you have questions, you can come to my office and ask them all you want, but my statement stands. We are simply business partners in the Paradise Club.”
With a quick nod, he turned, hurried down the hall, and ran down the stairs.
I would need to be very careful now. The district attorney wanted information I couldn't safely give. The Azzaros wanted loyalty I couldn't provide. And caught between them was a dangerous place to be—perhaps the only place more dangerous than my personal playroom.
"Inheritances come with strings attached," Sal said, leaning back in his leather chair, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of concern and calculation. "And yours comes with a whole damn web of them."
I crossed my legs, the leather of my pants creaking softly in the silence of Sal's office.
He had been the owner and technically my boss for a while now, and we had forged a friendship within these walls.
The Lounge was quiet this early, and the evening crowd was still hours away.
Through the tinted windows, afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the minimalist furniture.
"I didn't ask for this," I said finally. "Dad left me partial ownership of The Paradise Club. What was I supposed to do, refuse it?"
Sal's fingers drummed against his desk. "You could have. Most people would, considering your . . . professional situation." He gestured vaguely at me. "You're one of my top dommes, Elin. Clients book months in advance for you."
"And I appreciate that." I leaned forward. "Look, I'm not planning to abandon the Lounge. Paradise is just business."
"Just business," Sal echoed with a sardonic smile. "A competing business. You're part-owner of another sex club in the same city. You don't see the conflict there?"
I shook my head and let out a long breath. "Paradise isn't just a sex club. It's more . . . different clientele entirely."
"And what happens when your clients here discover you own Paradise? They'll want special treatment there or worse, they'll want you to dominate them there."
"That won't happen." My voice was unwavering and firm. "I will not be a domme at my own club. That's a line I won't cross. Professional boundaries, Sal. You taught me that."
Sal studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Boundaries blur, Elin. Especially in our world." He sighed heavily. "I don't want to lose you. But I need your assurance that this won't affect your work here."
"You have it. Paradise is an investment. The Lounge is where I belong."
Sal nodded, though his eyes remained skeptical. "I hope so. For both our sakes."
Feeling drained, I left his office. The conversation had gone better than expected, but Sal's concerns echoed my own unspoken worries.
I knew it was only a matter of time before Sal questioned where my loyalty lay.
As I pushed through the staff exit into the back alley, a familiar figure detached itself from the shadows.
"Took you long enough," Harley said, flicking away a cigarette. Gavriel's best friend looked as disheveled as always, his dark hair falling across eyes that missed nothing.
I stopped short, my heart restarting from the startle. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you." Harley stepped closer, his expression hardening. “What are you doing at the Lounge, Elin?”
"My job." Brushing past him toward the parking lot, I continued, "Not that it's any of your business."
Harley matched my stride, his lanky frame easily keeping pace. "It becomes my business when a partner of the Azzaro family is working at a competing club in this territory."
"Business is one thing," I retorted, keys jingling in my hand as I fished them from my purse. "The Lounge was part of my life long before the Azzaros became my partners."
Harley stepped in front of me, blocking my path to my car. His eyes, usually dancing with mischief, were deadly serious now.
"This isn't about territory or business, Elin. It's about Gav."
Something in his tone made me pause. "What about him?"
"He's different since Joel died." Harley ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Distracted. Making decisions he wouldn't normally make. Taking risks." He studied my face. "What's your endgame here? What do you want from him long-term?"
I felt a flash of irritation. "There is no 'endgame,' Harley. Everything between Gavriel and me is business. We have an agreement that works for both of us." I moved to step around him. "If you want details, ask him yourself."
His hand shot out, not touching me but hovering near my arm. "Business? Is that what you call it when he cancels meetings to see you? When he checks his phone every five minutes hoping you've texted?"
I blinked at him in surprise. “I had no idea Gavriel was doing any of that.”
Harley's voice dropped. "He's head over heels for you, Elin. And if you care about him at all—even a little—you'll stop being his domme if you don't feel the same way."
His words hit me like a physical blow. First, Harley knew, which meant that Gavriel had felt safe enough to tell him.
Then there was the fact that I hadn't allowed myself to think too deeply about what was happening between Gavriel and me. Last night in my office had been a turning point for sure, but the sessions, the late-night conversations, and the way his eyes followed me when he thought I wasn't looking I’d thought were just part of the dynamic. But to be something more committed when he was the one who’d killed Dad?
"It's . . . complicated," I said finally, my voice softer than I intended. "The line between business and personal is getting blurry. I'm trying not to overthink it and just enjoy his company right now."
Something like sympathy flickered across Harley's face. "That's not fair to him, and you know it."
"Life isn't fair," I replied, the words automatic, defensive. But they tasted like dirt in my mouth.
Harley stepped back, hands raised in surrender. "Just be careful. Gav isn't like your other clients. When he falls, he falls hard. And when he breaks . . ." He shook his head. "The Azzaro family can't afford for him to break."
I unlocked my car, sliding into the driver's seat without responding. As I pulled away, I caught Harley's reflection in my rearview mirror, a solitary figure watching me leave.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder. Gavriel's name lit up the screen with a simple message: "Dinner tonight?"
I stared at those two words, hearing Harley's warning echo in my mind. The responsible thing would be to create distance, to reinforce boundaries. To protect both of us from whatever this was becoming.
Instead, I typed back: "My place. 8 pm."
Some risks were worth taking, even if I wasn't ready to fully admit why.