Chapter 3 #2
"Handle your video conferences. I'll be downstairs when you're done." I head for the door, then pause. "And Simone? Don't leave this guest house. For any reason. Without my permission. Clear?"
"Clear."
I leave her standing in the workspace, hands clenched at her sides. She's fighting every instinct she has to maintain control. Fighting the reality that someone else is making decisions about her safety.
But she'll learn. They always do. The only question is whether she learns before the threat escalates beyond my ability to stop it.
Downstairs, I pull up the security feeds and check perimeter status while Simone handles her first video conference upstairs.
Her voice carries down occasionally—professional, controlled, no hint of the fear or frustration she showed me earlier.
CEO voice, full armor firmly in place. Another performance, this one for executives who see her as unshakeable.
My phone buzzes. Remy.
"Meeting shortly. Main house. I've got Andy Broussard, from NOPD, and two of the tech team en route. I'll have one of our guys posted at the guest house while you're in the briefing."
"Copy that." I glance at the ceiling. "Asset's handling video conferences. Should be clear by then."
"How's she adjusting to protective custody?"
"About as well as expected." I pull up the real-time feed from her laptop camera, verify she's still on her conference call. "Pushing boundaries, testing authority, trying to negotiate terms she doesn't have leverage for."
Remy's laugh comes through the line. "Sounds familiar. Isabella did the same thing when we first met."
"Simone's not Isabella." I close the laptop feed. "Isabella was running from an external threat. Simone's being stalked by someone who understands power dynamics well enough to weaponize them. Different psychology, different approach."
"You thinking it's someone from the club?"
"Thinking it's someone who knows exactly how she performs submission and is using that knowledge to destabilize her." I glance at the time. "I'm sweeping Dominion this afternoon. Margot's meeting me there."
"Good. We need to narrow the suspect pool before this escalates further." His tone shifts to business mode. "See you soon."
The call ends. I review the threat assessment data my team compiled overnight.
Three photographs delivered over several weeks, each showing Simone in progressively more vulnerable positions.
Rope suspension, impact play, sensory deprivation.
All captured via hidden cameras planted in Dominion's private rooms, all showing intimate scenes that were supposed to be protected by the club's strict privacy protocols.
The stalker knows her patterns. Knows when she books private rooms, which rooms she prefers, what kind of scenes she gravitates toward. They've been documenting her for weeks, building a psychological profile designed to maximize impact.
And yesterday's email marked the shift from surveillance to direct threat. Timeline specified, intention clear. Physical action is coming. The only question is when.
I head upstairs, knock once on the workspace door.
"Come in."
Simone's still at her laptop, the video conference window closed. She looks up when I enter, careful control cracking. Exhaustion shows in the tight lines around her eyes.
"I need to meet with my brother and the team," I tell her. "Main house. You stay here, keep the doors locked, don't open them for anyone except me. Understood?"
"How long will you be gone?"
"A couple hours at most." I pull out my phone, check the security system. "Cameras are active, motion sensors engaged. The system alerts me to any movement, any breach. I'm back here in seconds."
She nods. "I have work to do anyway."
"Good." I move to leave, then pause. "And Simone? That command about not leaving the guest house? That includes not going to the main house for any reason. Even if it seems harmless. Even if you think it's safe. You stay here until I return. Clear?"
"Clear."
I leave her with the command hanging between us, a boundary line drawn in concrete. She'll either respect it or she'll test it. And if she tests it, she'll learn exactly what consequences look like when I'm the one enforcing them.
The walk to the main house is short through the gardens that Isabella has transformed into something out of a Southern Living magazine spread.
Azaleas and camellias, jasmine climbing the old brick walls, magnolia trees heavy with blooms. Beautiful, peaceful, exactly the kind of setting that makes people forget about threats lurking in shadows.
I don't forget. Can't afford to.
Remy's in his office when I arrive, Andy's already present along with two of our tech specialists. Maps of Dominion spread across the desk, security footage queued up on multiple monitors.
"Luc." Remy nods to the empty chair. "Let's get started."
I take my seat, scanning the assembled team. Andy's in detective mode, his notebook out, ready to document everything for his investigation. The tech specialists are already analyzing footage, tracking timestamps and camera angles.
"Initial assessment," Remy begins. "Three photographs delivered over time, all showing the victim in compromising positions at Dominion's private rooms. Based on the photo angles, lighting, and positions, we believe hidden cameras were used—the shots are too perfect, too consistently framed to be handheld or phone cameras taken during scenes.
Stalker has intimate knowledge of club operations and victim's patterns. "
"Suspect pool?" Andy leans forward.
"Club members with access to private rooms who could have planted surveillance equipment.
" I pull up the list Margot sent over last night.
"Margot worked through the night pulling membership records—she's identified dozens of members who had access to at least one of those three rooms during the timeframe we're examining.
We need to narrow that down based on additional criteria. "
One of the tech specialists pulls up security footage from Dominion's main entrance. "We've isolated all entry and exit logs for the surveillance window. Cross-referencing with timestamps from the photographs to identify who had access when the cameras were likely planted."
"How many private rooms are we talking about?" Andy's taking notes.
"Dominion has a dozen private rooms," I tell him. "Soundproofed, no surveillance per club policy, designed for discretion. Members book them in advance, access granted via key card that logs entry and exit times."
"Access logs give us a starting point," Andy says.
"How did you identify which specific rooms?" Andy asks.
"The photographs show distinctive features," one of the tech specialists explains. "Suspension point configurations, restraint systems, lighting setups. We matched them to rooms three, five, and eight."
"So we're looking at three specific rooms." Andy writes. "Three, five, and eight."
"Correct," the specialist confirms. "And we can use those room numbers to pull access logs for the relevant timeframe."
"Not enough." I pull up the first photograph on my phone, study the angle and lighting.
"Based on these photo angles, if cameras were planted, they'd likely be in elevated positions—ventilation grates, ceiling fixtures, decorative elements.
Someone with technical knowledge and familiarity with the rooms' layouts.
That suggests either repeated access or advance reconnaissance. "
"Or both." Remy's expression hardens. "Someone who's been planning this for months, not weeks."
"We're working on theory until Luc sweeps the rooms this afternoon," Remy continues. "But the photo evidence strongly suggests sophisticated surveillance equipment."
The tech specialist brings up a new screen. "We've identified less than twenty members who had access to at least one of the three rooms where photographs originated. Cross-referencing with the timeframe when surveillance equipment was likely planted."
Better than dozens, but still too many.
"Run background checks on all of them," I instruct. "Employment history, technical skills, prior stalking charges, restraining orders, anything that flags obsessive behavior. And pull their membership records from Dominion. Scene preferences, play partners, frequency of visits."
"Looking for patterns?" Andy asks.
"Looking for someone who's been watching Simone specifically." I zoom in on the photograph, studying the composition. "These aren't random shots. They're carefully framed, designed to capture vulnerability. Whoever took these knew exactly what they wanted to document."
The meeting continues for another hour, breaking down timelines and access logs, identifying equipment signatures that might narrow the technical profile.
By the time we're done, we've reduced the suspect pool to roughly a dozen members who had the access, knowledge, and opportunity to plant surveillance equipment in Dominion's private rooms.
A dozen potential stalkers. One of them escalating toward physical action.
"When I do the physical inspection of Dominion this afternoon," I tell the group. "I’ll be looking for cameras or evidence the stalker might have left behind."
"Want backup?" Andy offers.
"Margot's meeting me there." I stand, gathering my notes. "She knows the club better than anyone. If there's something to find, she'll know where to look."
Remy walks me out, his expression shifting from professional to concerned older brother. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine." Nearly two hours since I left Simone. "Why?"
"Because you're about to spend the next few days minimum in close quarters with a woman who's going to fight you on every protocol while you're trying to keep her alive." He stops in the doorway. "That's not a standard protection detail, Luc. That's psychological warfare."
"I've handled worse."