Page 98 of Savage

“I can introduce you to Pavone,” I say. “He’ll welcome the new business.”

“Nah. I don’t have time right now.” Chase shuts off his tablet and puts it away. “Now, are we going to get lap dances, or…”

The only one I want a lap dance from isn’t here, though. “You go ahead. I’m going home. I already paid enough; I don’t need to waste more money here.”

Drake smirks at me. “Yeah, you’ve already paid enough to get easy pussy at home. You don’t need to be teased to the point of blue balls when you have the girl at home.”

I scoff. “If you pay enough, I’m sure some of the girls here will follow you out of the club.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where these girls have been,” Drake retorts with a grimace. “It’s great to have them rubbing all over me, but I’m not sure even a condom would be enough to convince me they’re safe to fuck, and I don’t want to wait for fucking blood test results. Hard pass.”

I almost go into a lecture about STIs and the efficacy of condoms, but I’m sure Drake doesn’t care. I get up and toss a few bills onto the table. “Fine. Have fun on your own. I’m going home.”

“Yep. Give your girl a good spanking from me,” Chase says, waving. His eyes are already on the stage again, where another performance has started up.

“Have fun,” Drake echoes, following Chase’s gaze. “Don’t be too gentle on her. She might start to actually think you care.”

I resist the immature urge to flip them off and hail a cab to get home. On the way, I type out my response to the blackmailer.

No.

And if you ever contact me again, I will track you down and leave your face so misshapen that even your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.

It’s mild, as far as threats go, but there’s not much that sounds particularly threatening when written down anyway. He doesn’t need to know how close I am to finding him right now.

I’m sure once I do find him, Drake would be more than happy to help me teach him a lesson.

I’m surprised when I get a response only a few minutes later.

Last warning.

Money in my wallet, or u’ll regret it.

I sneer at the phone, but we’ve arrived at my condo building. I pay the driver and seethe the entire way up to my condo, imagining beating whoever it is into a bloody pulp.

The anger surges inside me, making my vision haze around the edges. I want to hurt someone. I want to destroy something.

When I open the door, Stef is kneeling in the foyer, naked.

“Welcome home, Master,” she says, and some of my anger deflates. She seems to notice my mood, though, and after kissing the tops of my feet, she rests her cheek against my thigh. “Is there anything you’d like me to do for you?”

Hurt her, part of me thinks. Show her she isn’t special.

But I imagine losing control again and discovering her bleeding out in the shower once more—only this time, I’ll be too late to save her.

I take a deep breath. “Go prepare snacks for us. We’ll relax in the living room.”

She gives me a searching look but nods, getting to her feet. She briefly presses her body against mine and kisses me shyly before scurrying off to the kitchen.

I sit down on the couch and force myself to breathe and relax my hands. I need to stay calm. I need to stay in control.

After a few minutes, she returns with some snacks—crackers and cheese and meats, vegetables with ranch dressing—and sets them down on the coffee table before kneeling next to it.

“Good girl,” I say, mostly out of habit.

But she is good. She’s sweet and obedient and has learned not to question me. When she looks at me with adoration in her deep brown eyes, I might as well be the center of her world.

I eat a few crackers before taking a cherry tomato and dunking it in dressing. I hold it out to her lips. “Eat.”

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