Page 81 of Cook

I signed.

Chapter 15

Cook

My traitorous palm itched. Notthe tingle they say precedes coming into money, but with an energy that wanted to draw back and spank that ass she propped up for me.

I’ve never been like this before. Never consumed like this with a need to make someone subservient to my needs. What the hell is happening?

Instead of thwacking Maddie on her ass like I wanted, I walked to the door and called Mercer back inside. The small man in his tailored gray suit and spit-shined shoes returned and went to the filing cabinet, supposedly to file the clipboard, but not before giving the document a good once over.

His brows drew together as he apparently tried to make out one of our handwritings. Unless it was my signature, it had to be Maddie’s writing.

“Odd safe word . . .knee show. . .?”

“What?” His question confused me for a second, and I motioned him back. Glancing at what she’d written in thesafe wordblank—“knee show nah”—I cut my eyes back to Maddie. She stood there with her arms pretzeled in front of her, and a blush crept across her chest and up into her cheeks.

She had stolen my word to use as her safe word. Mynizhóní. My beauty.

I grabbed a pen and crossed it out, writing and repeating the Navajo word at the same time:“Nizhóní.”

Mercer reached to grab it from my hands, but I moved it away. “Maddie, come here.”

She rounded the chair and crossed the remaining few steps until she stood in front of me.

I showed her the correct spelling. “If you’re going to use the native tongue, you must learn to spell it first.”

Her amber eyes flicked to Mercer, and my blood ignited.

“Eyes on me,” I ordered.

Her gaze snapped back to meet mine.

Mercer took the clipboard from my hands. “Good. Both of you. Very good.”

After slipping the paper into a folder behind the letter C, he led us out of his office. I took Maddie’s hand in mine and kept her at my eight o’clock as we followed.

On the way to the corner of the busy lounge, Mercer crooked his finger toward a woman sitting primly on one of the red leather couches. She excused herself and hurried over, ignoring us, bowing her head to the little man, and handing him the end of a leash that dangled from a collar around her neck. She was even tinier than him.

“This is Cherie.” Mercer accepted the leather handle. “We will show you some of the very basics.”

Maddie curled her body tighter against me, but over my shoulder, she studied Cherie with awe. Cherie’s actions weren’t forced by anyone but given over to Mercer voluntarily. This would be new territory for my nizhóní too, but I didn’t yet know how she would take it.

Mercer took the leash and guided Cherie to a black door. “Prepare the elementary room for a lesson, pet.”

Cherie slid the black door to the side and let us all inside. The overhead lights were harsh, but she turned on a warmer amber light and shut off the white ones.

“It’s just been sanitized, sir,” she addressed Mercer and closed the door, sealing all four of us inside.

The music’s crooning faded, and the thump of bass dulled when the heavy door slid into place. Cherie went to wardrobe cabinet on the far side and opened both doors, putting an array of kinky shit on display—floggers, rope, a scarf I could imagine as a blindfold, a short whip, some small metal instruments, and things I couldn’t name.

No one would call me naïve, butdamn Gina, that was serious business.

Maddie’s hand in mine tensed, and I felt a little shudder run through her body.

A wingback chair sat in one corner, where the view would be obscured, if not hidden.

“Maddie, go sit down.”

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