Dominion’s Command (Velvet Dominion #1)

Chapter 1

LUC

Security footage from last night’s club session fills the monitors on my desk.

I scan the feeds automatically, cataloging angles, noting the blind spots I designed into Dominion’s security system.

Outside my office windows the Warehouse District bakes in August heat, tourists wandering past galleries and restaurants completely unaware of what happens two floors below.

My phone buzzes. Margot's name flashes across the screen.

"Talk to me."

"I need Rapier Strategic." Her voice is controlled, but tension cuts through the professional tone. My sister doesn't rattle easy. "One of my members is being threatened. Someone's been inside the private rooms taking photographs."

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. "How long?"

"For some time—weeks, months—I don’t know for sure.

The member just started getting them, but it’s obvious someone’s been watching her for quite some time.

The photos are professional quality shots delivered to her home and office.

Taken from positions that shouldn't be possible given our security setup.

" She pauses. "Taken from the blind spots you designed.

The photos are date-stamped in the metadata.

I cross-referenced with our booking logs and attendance records.

Whoever took these had access during active scenes. "

Fuck.

Those blind spots exist by necessity because total camera coverage in private BDSM rooms creates legal liability and trust issues.

Members pay premium prices for guaranteed privacy.

I designed strategic gaps where dungeon monitors provide human oversight instead of digital recording.

Anyone who knows exactly where those gaps are has either studied the system extensively or had inside information.

"Send me everything."

"Already on your secure server. Can you take the case?"

Can we. Not will we. Margot's asking, not demanding, because Rapier Strategic is Remy's and my operation. She owns Dominion, and handles the club's operations, but when it comes to tactical work, she defers to the people who actually break things and people for a living.

"Let me pull the files and talk to Remy. Ten minutes."

I disconnect and pull up the secure server. The files load fast. First image makes my jaw tight.

Woman bound to St. Andrew's cross. Head thrown back, mouth open in what could be pleasure or pain or both. Professional camera work, proper lighting compensation, composition that frames her submission with artistic precision. Taken inside one of Dominion's larger private rooms.

Whoever took this knows my security system better than most of my own staff. Which means one of two things. Someone spent a lot of time studying Dominion from the inside… or someone has been given access most members never have.

Someone knew exactly where the cameras couldn't see.

I click through the rest. The timestamps span weeks.

Whoever's doing this didn't start with threats.

They started with observation. Different nights based on the dates, different corsets visible, different rope colors and equipment setups in the background.

Rope suspension scenes. Impact play. Sensory deprivation.

Each photo taken from angles that shouldn't exist in our digital records.

Each one a violation layered on top of violation.

The threats start on image fourteen. Text overlay on a photo of her kneeling, collar visible around her throat.

I know what you need. I know what you crave. I know how to make you scream.

Next image shows her blindfolded, vulnerable.

You think Dominion keeps you safe. It doesn't.

Final image is from last night. Her wrists bound, body arched.

Soon you'll learn what real control feels like.

Cold slides down my spine. The language is specific, calculated. Not some amateur with a camera and delusions. Whoever wrote this thinks they understand her. Whoever wrote this understands the lifestyle. Understands submission. Understands exactly how to twist it into fear.

This is someone who understands the psychology, the power dynamics, the specific vulnerabilities that come with submission. Someone who's been watching long enough to know how to weaponize what she gives freely in controlled space. Not just watching her scenes. Studying them. Not the club. Her.

The shift from observation to action is there in the language. Whoever's doing this is escalating, moving from documentation to direct threat. The timeline's compressing. They're preparing to move.

I head down the hall to Remy's office. My brother's hunched over his laptop, Isabella beside him reviewing what looks like chemical threat assessments. They both look up when I enter.

"We have a case." I lean against the doorframe. "Club member being stalked. Professional photography taken from security blind spots. Escalating threats. Margot wants to know if we'll take it. Files are on the secure server under LaCroix."

Remy pulls up the server, clicks through to the file. His expression goes cold and focused as he scrolls through the images with the same tactical assessment he'd apply to hostile surveillance. Isabella leans in, studying the photos with her chemist's precision.

"Whoever took these has training," she says quietly. "Professional equipment. They took the time to go through and cherry-pick the images they wanted."

"Which means confidence." Remy hands back my phone. "They weren't worried about getting caught. Inside job or security compromise?"

"Both are possible. Could be a member who mapped the system, could be staff feeding information to an outside party, could be someone who hacked our digital infrastructure." I straighten. "Either way, it's sophisticated. Organized. Getting bolder."

"Client profile?"

"Simone LaCroix. CEO of LaCroix Petroleum.

Oil heiress, only child, took over the company five years ago when her father died.

" I pull up her membership file. Rapier Strategic handles all of Dominion's vetting, so the background checks are thorough.

Financial records, business holdings, family history, criminal background, references from the lifestyle community.

Everything we need to assess risk and verify legitimacy.

"Member for two years. Submissive, usually scenes with established partners. Always books private rooms."

"Never plays on the main floor?" Remy asks.

"Never. High-profile CEO, needs the extra discretion. Private rooms only, usually the same partners, regular bookings." I scroll through her activity logs. "Which is why the stalker had consistent access. She's predictable. Same rooms, same schedule, same blind spots every time."

"Makes her an easy target."

"Makes her a perfect target." I close the file. "No prior security concerns until now."

"Until now." Remy stands, moves to the window. He's thinking, calculating risks and resources. "This hits multiple problems. Security breach in Margot's club. Threat to a member. Potential intelligence leak in a system you designed. Personal because it involves family business."

"Which is why I'm talking to you." I straighten. "If this compromises Rapier Strategic's operational security or puts the family at risk, we decline and refer her to another firm."

Isabella speaks up. "Does she know what she's walking into? That protection detail with you means surrendering control of her entire life?"

"Not yet. Margot's bringing her in." I check my watch. "She should be here soon."

Remy's quiet for a moment, then nods. "We take the case.” I look at him and he continues, “It’s Margot asking. That’s family.

We don’t turn down family. Standard contract, executive protection rates, you're primary on tactical.

I'll handle the investigation into security breach from operational side.

We find who compromised Dominion's system and we shut them down. "

"Permanently."

His smile is dark. "Exactly."

The meeting's set for the afternoon. I spend the time reviewing security footage, cross-referencing timestamps with club attendance logs, building a timeline of when the stalker had access to plant a camera.

The pattern's there if you know where to look.

There's consistent positioning, the same blind spot used repeatedly, professional discipline in shot composition.

Whoever did this has training. They have a military or law enforcement background, most likely. Someone who understands surveillance and operational security.

When Margot appears in the conference room doorway, the woman from the photographs stands behind her.

Simone LaCroix.

She's taller than I expected. Tall enough that she doesn't have to crane her neck even without the heels.

Honey-blonde hair pulled into a professional twist that probably took twenty minutes to achieve.

Cream suit tailored to show curves while maintaining executive polish.

Diamond studs in her ears, pearls at her throat, manicured nails wrapped around an expensive leather purse.

Every line of her screams money and control. Old family wealth combined with ruthless business instinct.

But what catches my attention is the tension. She's hiding it behind perfect posture and designer clothes, but the fear is there in her shoulders, the way her gaze tracks the room like she's cataloging threats.

She's smart. Threats are exactly what she should be looking for.

"Luc Pascal, Simone LaCroix." Margot makes the introduction with professional efficiency. "Simone, as I mentioned, Luc is Head of Operations for Rapier Strategic. He’s former Delta Force before he came home to New Orleans and built Rapier Strategic with Remy."

She steps back, making it clear this is Rapier Strategic's meeting now. She brought her club member to the firm. What happens next is our call. "I'll leave you to it."

Margot disappears down the hallway. Now it's just me and the woman someone's been hunting.