Page 22 of For the Sub

Needing to compose herself, unable to immediately rejoin the festivities, she made her way to the ladies’ dressing room, where she had a locker.

Master Niles’s exquisite care, along with the fanciful notions about his haunted eyes, unraveled her, making her forget the lessons of the past two years.

No matter how tempting, she would never again allow anyone’s problems to occupy a large part of her mind.

By the time she’d tamed her hair, applied a fresh coat of mascara, and shimmied into a pair of panties, Master Niles had left the Den.

She exhaled, in equal amounts gratitude and regret.

With less enthusiasm than ever, Brandy resumed her duties.

Toward the end of the evening, she helped Mistress Catrina into her luxurious coat, and arranged the Domme’s long, beautiful hair so it looked gorgeous against the faux fur. Dressed all in black, the woman was stunning, and the way she carried herself, like a supermodel, only made her more beautiful.

“Thank you, little one,” Mistress said. “Makes me want to have you lick my boots.”

Brandy lowered her head. “If Milady wishes.”

“If I wasn’t ready to depart, I might have had you do that.” Mistress Catrina gave a soft sigh that was every bit as dramatic as she was.

The woman looked different without a young, half-naked man at the end of a leash, but that was part of the purpose of tonight’s gathering, a time for Doms and Dommes to relax without any draws on their attention. It appeared most were grateful for the opportunity, but even more eager to return to their submissives.

An hour later, when Master Marcus was leaving, she held his leather bomber jacket while he shrugged into it.

“Shall I have your vehicle brought around, Sir?”

“Thanks, no.” He shook his head. “Julia is at a spa in Winter Park, and I’m too impatient to join her. It’ll be faster to walk to my car.”

She smiled at his abrupt tone, as if being away from home and Julia even this long had been torture.

As Brandy opened the front door, a blast of cold evening air smacked her.

“Autumn in the Rockies,” he said, turning up his collar. “We’re in for an early snow.”

Once the sun had set, the temperature had plummeted.

She slammed the door closed and was grateful for the whisper of warm air from the heating vent.

Gregorio wandered into the foyer. “You’re quiet this evening.” He folded his arms across his chest in his typical manner that reminded her of a pirate.

Tonight he wore a black T-shirt and black jeans with black motorcycle boots accented with sturdy metal buckles at the ankle. “Did everything go okay with Master Niles?”

As if you weren’t watching. “Fine,” she replied.

When he said nothing, she added, “The man knows what he’s doing.”

“Don’t get your heart broken,” he warned.

Bristling, she scowled. “What the hell makes you say that?”

“Nothing more than a lucky guess.” He lifted a shoulder. “I was feeling you out. Your response was a bit touchy.”

“I’m not touchy,” she countered.

Maybe because he knew her better than almost anyone, he grinned. “Proved it.”

Irritated, she scowled. “You are sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

For a moment, silence hung between them.

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