Chapter 6
LUC
Iwatch from the doorway as Simone finishes her last video conference and closes her laptop, the professional mask slipping now that the cameras are off. Exhaustion shows in the tight lines around her eyes.
"Meetings done?"
"Finally. Legal cleared the Gulf acquisition. Uncle Armand made his usual digs."
"You handled him well this morning. I need to brief Remy at the operations center." I pull out my phone. "Need to coordinate tonight's op. I'm posting Derek here while I'm gone."
"The same operative as before?"
"Different one. He'll be downstairs. Same protocols—you don't leave this guest house, you don't open doors or windows, you text me if you need anything."
"How long?"
"Couple hours at most." I send the text to Remy, get an immediate confirmation. "Derek will be here in ten minutes. You stay upstairs until he arrives and I clear him with you."
"Yes, Sir." The words come automatically now. Less resistance, more acceptance.
"Good girl." Her shoulders stiffen. But she doesn't look away.
Derek arrives on schedule. Former Marine, solid tactical background, knows how to maintain a perimeter without being intrusive. I brief him at the door, then bring him inside so Simone can see who's protecting her.
She appears at the top of the stairs, assesses him the way she probably assesses new executives. Derek nods respectfully but doesn't speak. Good. He understands his job is security, not conversation.
"I'll be back soon," I tell her. "Follow his instructions the same way you'd follow mine."
"Yes, Sir."
The drive to the operations center cuts through afternoon traffic.
Rapier Strategic's third-floor office overlooks the Warehouse District, two floors above Dominion.
The tactical briefing runs tight and efficient.
Remy sits across from me, tablet open, while I map security protocols for tonight's op.
"Multiple cameras were recovered from three private rooms." The photos come up on screen. "Professional-grade equipment with wireless transmission and sophisticated installation. Andy's running forensics now—serial numbers, purchase records, anything that traces back to the buyer."
"Timeline on results?" Remy asks.
"He's pushing for tonight, but realistic estimate is tomorrow morning." The file closes. "Either way, we're moving forward."
"Margot's security upgrades?"
"Enhanced surveillance in hallways and common areas. Restricted access to private rooms with keycard tracking. Security personnel at every entrance." I meet his gaze. "Military-level op."
"Good." Remy leans back. "Suspect pool?"
"Julien LaSalle is primary. Banned from Dominion months ago after attempting to force a scene Simone didn't consent to.
Obsessive behavior, boundary issues." The file comes up.
"And he's connected to Armand’s company—his law firm represents the exploration division.
Regular contact, access to company information. "
"Corporate and personal working together."
"Looks that way." The file closes. "We also have the HVAC tech who had access months back. And the member pool—limited suspect list who could have booked those specific rooms during installation. Andy's working that angle."
Remy studies me. "You're using Simone as bait."
"I'm drawing out a threat under controlled conditions. She's protected."
"While you scene with her in a private room."
I hold his gaze. "While I find out if she can actually submit. If her surrender is real or just another performance." The words come out harder than intended. "I need to know if she trusts me enough to follow commands when it matters."
Remy leans back, studying me with that look that says he sees straight through the operational framing. "You want her."
Not a question.
"Yes."
"And you're mixing that with the op."
"Her ability to surrender impacts her safety." I keep my voice level. "If she can't follow commands without hesitation in that room, she won't follow them in a crisis."
"That's one way to justify it." Remy doesn't look away. "The other way is you want to claim her and you're using the op as cover."
The words land because they're true. I want her submission. Not just for the tactical advantage. For myself.
"Both can be true."
"They can." He closes his tablet. "Just don't let wanting her get in the way of keeping her alive."
"I'll handle it." I stand. "Margot expecting us soon?"
"She'll have the club prepped early. Private room reserved, security briefed." Remy levels me with that older brother look. "Luc. Be careful with this one."
We both know Simone LaCroix is different from any asset I've protected before. The way she said "Yes, Sir" this morning, submitting to my authority in a professional context—I felt that straight to my cock. The power in it. The surrender.
Evening light slants through the trees as I walk back to the guest house. Simone's upstairs in the workspace when I let myself in.
She's changed from the CEO armor she wore for her video conferences. Dark jeans, silk blouse, hair loose around her shoulders. The professional polish is gone, replaced by something softer.
She looks up when I enter. "How did it go?"
"We have three primary suspects and several persons of interest under active surveillance." I move into the room. "Margot's implemented enhanced security at Dominion. Everything's in place for tonight."
"And if no one takes the bait?" Her hands are steady, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.
"Then we learn they're more cautious than anticipated. Either way, we move the investigation forward." I study her. "How do you think the meetings went?"
"Legal review was straightforward. No issues with the Gulf acquisition terms." She stands, moves to the window, then catches herself. Remembers the email threat, the photo of her through this very glass. Steps back. "Henry was harder."
"You told him."
"I told him someone's been stalking me. That Rapier Strategic is providing protection while the threat is assessed and neutralized.
" She wraps her arms around herself. "He wanted details.
Wanted to know if this was connected to corporate espionage, if the board needed to be informed, if my safety required stepping down temporarily. "
"What did you tell him?"
"That the threat is personal, not corporate. That stepping down would signal weakness to whoever's doing this." She turns to face me. "He's concerned. But he trusts me to handle it."
The relief in her voice tells me how much that conversation cost. Admitting vulnerability to someone whose opinion matters. Risking the judgment she's spent years avoiding.
"He's right to trust you." I step toward her. "You handled your uncle this morning. Maintained composure when he tried to undermine you. That takes strength."
"It takes the act." Her laugh is bitter. "I'm good at the act."
"Tonight you drop it." The command in my voice makes her eyes widen. "Tonight you submit. Real submission, not what you've been giving other Doms at Dominion."
"How do you know it's been an act?"
"Because you chase endorphins instead of surrender. You book private rooms to keep everything contained—who sees you, what they see, when it ends." I close the distance between us. "You negotiate scenes like business deals. Safe. Restricted. Never actually giving up power."
Her pupils dilate. "And if I can't?" The question comes out small.
"Then you can't." I stroke my thumb along her jaw. "But you're more terrified of what happens if you let go than you are of the stalker."
Her whole body trembles. The recognition that I'm right.
"We need to negotiate terms." I release her, put distance between us before I skip the negotiation entirely and just take. "Hard limits. Safewords. What you're willing to explore and what's off the table."
The shift from intensity to negotiation steadies her. This she knows how to do. "Standard limits. No permanent marks, no breath play, no public humiliation."
"Tonight's not public. Private room, door locked. Just you and me." I pull out my phone. "How much pain can you take?"
"Moderate. Impact play is fine. Nothing extreme."
"Bondage?"
"Yes."
Her breath catches at the single word, and I have to adjust my stance. The thought of her bound, helpless, completely at my mercy—I'm already half-hard just negotiating limits.
"Sensory deprivation?"
She hesitates. "Blindfolds are fine. I've never tried more."
"We'll stay with blindfolds." I pocket my phone. "Safewords. Traffic light system?"
"Green for good, yellow for check in, red for stop."
"Use them." I hold her gaze. "I need to know where you are. This isn't about pushing past your limits. It's about finding out if you can surrender within them."
"What if I can't?" The vulnerability in her voice cuts through me.
"You can." I’m fighting the urge to show her exactly how I know. "You've been waiting for someone who won't play along with the act."
Her breath catches. "Is that what you're doing? Demanding?"
"Yes." No apology. No softening. "I'm demanding your submission. Real surrender, not negotiated scenes with predetermined outcomes. You give me what I ask for, trust me to take you where you need to go."
"And the operational objective? Drawing out the stalker?"
"That's my job. Your job is to follow my commands without hesitation.
" I close the space again. "If I tell you to get on your knees, you get on your knees.
If I tell you to be silent, you're silent.
If I tell you we're leaving, we leave. No questions, no negotiation, no CEO trying to stay in charge. "
"That's not submission. That's obedience."
"Same thing when you choose it." I let the words settle. "Can you do that?"
The question hangs between us. She could say no. Could draw boundaries that keep this professional, operational, nothing more than protective custody with D/s elements to sell the trap.
"Yes, Sir." The words come out steady. Certain.