Chapter 2
In the end,I have enough votes for Mac’s membership but it’s a near thing.
I sit at the oval committee table, tapping my pen on my notepad, while I listen to Ten rant. It’s the first time I’ve seen the usually stoic, secretive Master of Rope lose his shit. By the silence and slack jaws of the other people sitting around the table, I gather it’s a first for them, too.
“And then there’s the issue of you working over in Jersey,” Ten growls at me, crossing his burly arms over his even burlier chest.
Despite the fact that it’s early November, and much cooler than yesterday, Ten’s shirtless, wearing just low-slung leather pants and scuffed boots. The numerous X tattoos over his neck, chest, and arms that give rise to his club name stand out starkly against his fading tan. During their blanket-fort gossip sessions, Emily’s learned from Brenna that there’s a running bet among the house subs as to what the X tattoos mean.
I’ve thrown a tenner on “X marks the spot” just for the heck of it.
“How is Logan working at our sister club relevant to Mr. MacNally’s application?” Maude asks from where she’s sitting to my left. Her voice is cool and neutral. If she’s surprised, or annoyed, by Ten’s rant, she doesn’t let it show.
“They live together,” Ten says with a glower at me.
“And?” Maude asks.
While everyone’s eyes go back to Ten, Maude curls her French-manicure over my pen. Guess I’m tapping a little too loudly. Maude pats my hand when I set the pen down on my notebook.
“Not sure either of them got Blunts’ best interests at heart if Logan’s working there,” Ten grumbles.
I start to answer that piece of bullshittery but Maude’s fingers tighten over mine.
I shut my mouth.
Javier, who doesn’t hold a title but has been sitting on the management committee since some point in the sixteenth century, if the rumors are true, shoots the cuffs of his Huntsman suit. I’ve seen him do that often enough before he goes into battle that I almost feel sorry for Ten.
“Is there a problem between Blunts and Sacrum?” Javier asks. “Something of which I’m unaware?”
Ten grunts. “He’s got one foot here and one foot there. Divided loyalties.”
“I fail to see the issue,” Javier says. “Sacrum’s our sister club. Other than this security matter that Logan’s helping them with, Mistress Jaimie and Master Olaf haven’t informed us of any problem at the club. Certainly nothing that would create a conflict of interest.”
All eyes swing back to Ten. He grunts but says nothing more.
“Excellent,” Javier says drily. “Shall we vote? The morning’s wasting and asses are going unsmacked.”
That draws a chortle out of my friend, Bull, who is sitting on Maude’s far side. His hand is one of the first to shoot into the air when the chairman calls the vote. His hand is followed by nine more. Enough for Mac’s membership. The hard knot my gut squeezed into during Ten’s tantrum relaxes a fraction.
I half-expect Ten to kick off again when my roster for the month’s Monday theme nights goes up for a vote. For the first time, I’ve included an age-play night. Other than glowering at me, Ten doesn’t comment and my roster passes, with Ten and the Three Cs abstaining.
My pen begins a staccato tapping again before Maude reaches over and silences it.
“Do you need a Xanax, dear?” Maude asks under her breath as Chess moves to the next point on the agenda.
“Bandages,” I grunt. “And an alibi.”
Maude chuckles but leaves her fingers resting on my wrist. I give up any attempt at taking notes, laying the pen down and biding my time until the end of the meeting.
As soon as the Chairman taps his gavel to close the meeting, I’m up and out of my chair. Across the table, Ten rises and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly expecting a confrontation. Instead, I head to the top of the table, where the Three Cs sit. Chess and our Master of Coin, Cris, have already vacated their seats, leaving the woman I want to talk to sitting in her leather wing-chair, watching me approach with eyes that swallow the light.
“Did you have a change of heart?” I ask as I approach. I don’t loom over her chair. That’s a dick move whether the person I’m looming over is a top or a bottom but doing it to another top is just a blatant challenge. As annoyed as I might be at the waifish woman in the chair, I’m not to the point of challenging her.
Caddy shakes her thick falls of brown hair back over her shoulders and looks up at me through her fringe. Barefoot, in ripped jeans and an oversized sweater, she barely looks old enough to vote. But her eyes are ancient, and winter’s-night cold.
“You didn’t need my vote,” she responds.
“You were the one who encouraged me to put an age-play night on the roster in the first place. Why do that if you’re just going to cut my knees off when it comes to a vote?”
“I’ll repeat, you didn’t need my vote. If you had, I’d have cast it.”
“But since I didn’t,” I grit. “You abstained with Chess and Cris so you can continue to pin me under your fucking thumb?—”
I cut myself off when cool fingers wrap around my wrist.
“I think you’re hangry, dear,” Maude says in my ear. “Time for breakfast.”
I grind my teeth in irritation.
“Save me a seat,” Caddy says, holding my eyes.
“You don’t get to?—”
I’m cut off by Maude clamping down on my wrist again. Fuck, she has a grip.
“Of course we will, Catriona,” Maude says. “Will darling Finn be joining us?”
Caddy purses her lips, then smiles. Although she has a pretty mouth, it’s like watching a shark smile. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I don’t think Finn’s been formally introduced to Emily. I’ll call him.”
She pulls a phone out of the breast pocket of her sweater. Maude pulls me away as Caddy begins typing.
Maude waits until we’re out of the conference room and in the corridor before she gives me an earful.
“She’s right: you had more than enough votes. I know you’re still angry at her for maneuvering you back into Master of Training but antagonizing her serves no purpose, Logan.”
It serves a major purpose. The purpose of letting me vent before I fucking explode.
“They got what they wanted. I apologized to Pence for threatening to dock his pay. I ousted my friend as Master of Training. I’m doing the theme nights, including the age-play night Caddy fucking recommended. Then we get into committee and the three of them cut me off at the fucking knees? Now, if anyone bitches, it’s all on me.”
Maude takes my arm and begins walking me upstairs, toward the private room where Emily’s waiting for me.
“That’s right, it is all on you. And when the age-play night and the Nursery are a grand success, as I’m confident they will be, then you will be our shining star. When we have a full roster of happy, healthy house submissives, then you’re the man who fixed the mess. Then Javier and I can deal with the problem of our charming Master of Rope with total impunity and the Three Cs can’t be accused of favoritism. Focus on the bigger picture, Logan.”
Bigger picture, my arse. I know when I’m being hung out to dry.
“I’m inviting our entire fucking playgroup,” I growl. “I’ll fill the Nursery so full of littles that Caddy and her cabal won’t be able to squeeze a toe through the damn door. I’ll run them through the fucking corridors like a herd of cats and let them crayon all over the wood paneling?—”
“Temper, dearest,” Maude says soothingly, like she can’t swear like a sailor when her own feathers are ruffled. “I know this feels like an attack, particularly coming after Ten’s vitriol but I see it as an opportunity.”
“Opportunity.” I snort. “It’s a lynching opportunity. That’s what it is. And I don’t appreciate it.”
Maude squeezes my arm. “No one is getting lynched, particularly not our golden boy. I know you’re frustrated?—”
“You bet I am.”
“You’re not alone, Logan. I’ve been frustrated for longer than you have, both at the state of our house submissives and at how long it has taken our leadership to recognize it. But I believe in winning the war, not the battle. You’re focusing on the battle.”
“If Ten had cost me the vote on Mac’s membership, that would have been more than a lost battle, Maude.”
“But he didn’t,” she says as we reach the top of the stairs. “He didn’t stop you from creating the Nursery. Nor from expanding the Stables. Your age-play night passed by fourteen votes. That would not have happened six months ago. We have real attractions for age-players here at Blunts for the first time in the club’s history. And it’s passed largely under the radar of some very hardline sadists, mostly because of the example you and Emily have provided. The balance of power on the membership committee is shifting. That is the war, Logan. Not one application that could have been raised again in six months when the membership committee has a different composition. I’m asking you to lift your head above the trees and look at the forest.”
The rebuke stings and I swallow the remnants of my anger.
“Ten is angry and regretful,” Maude continues. “I don’t think he had any idea how much Brenna meant to him until she was gone. Emotions don’t sit well on the man and I’m concerned about his mental state. I know you’ve never been close to him but I’ve known him for over a decade and consider him a friend. Punishing him will only make him mulish. Membership here and his status among the house submissives are what keep Ten level.”
“He is not level. You saw the CCTV footage of his confrontation with Brenna.”
“I did. I make no apologies for his behavior. It was repulsive. But it needs to be dealt with the right way. Ten clearly feels he has enough power to act with impunity. And he’s not wrong. If he challenged Chess for the chairmanship today, I have deep concerns about who would win that vote, particularly after Chess has been so withdrawn since his wife’s death. Seeking to remove him from the management committee, or even put him on probation for his actions towards DirtyGurl, will only cause his support to harden. That’s not the way to proceed. You need to maneuver the man into getting the help he needs without making him lose face. I assumed that was your plan.”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t have a plan beyond making sure the house submissives are safe and happy,” I admit.
“Then perhaps you’ll listen to mine,” Maude says. “Ten needs to talk with someone about many things, not the least of which is DirtyGurl. The new submissive that’s started, the bartender, Krissy, is a qualified therapist. If I can persuade Ten to talk with her one-on-one, even if I have to involve Chess to coerce him, that’s better than humiliating him in front of the committee. Do you agree?”
I nod. I’m open to that.
“In the meanwhile, we should be alert to situations which allow Ten to cast doubt on your loyalty and integrity. How are things going at Sacrum?”
“Fine.” I shrug. “The system will go live in a couple of days and then we’ll see who has been evading my temporary cameras.”
“How much has been stolen?”
“In total, less than three hundred in cash but it’s making everyone feel unsafe. It’s not the amount. It’s the breach of trust among the club members.”
Maude nods her stylishly-bobbed silver head. “Of course it is. Jaimie and Olaf must be very anxious.”
They are. Worse, I think it’s an inside job. I’m not just looking for someone they’ve played with, or a guest. I’m looking for someone who is, or was, employed by the club to create a safe environment. Someone Jaimie or Olaf hired, and probably think of as part of their kink-family, is stealing from them.
Maude pats my arm. “I’m sure you’ll resolve it quickly. Now, shall we talk about what wonderful scenes you’re planning for the age-play night?”
She’s changing the subject unsubtly but I let her, in part because I respect the woman so damn much, and in part because we’re a minute away from the room and I don’t want to argue with Maude in front of Emily.
“Emily loves fairy tales—” I begin.
“Oh, I know, dear. She read me some of those fabulous stories by Baroness d’Aulnoy. I hadn’t heard any of those before. I’m afraid my education was limited to the Brothers Grimm.”
“Emily likes those, too. One of the scenes we’re planning is based on the Pied Piper?—”
“I get to play the witch,” Maude says.
“Uh, I don’t think there is a witch in that one.”
“There is now, dear.”