Page 12 of Mastered By Desire

I take the card from him. The only thing printed on it is a phone number in silver foil, nothing else.

“You want me to call you?” I ask.

Shrugging one shoulder, he says, “It’s up to you, Miss L.”

He must know my name is Leah, because Dmitri said it several times. But he’s continuing the club policy of first initial only for the people who are auctioned off. I wonder if it gives him more of a sense of ownership, or what. He seems to get off on the ownership.

I don’t respond. I can’t imagine calling him later. Like, what would I even say to this man?

He walks me to the club exit. The hallway seems smaller with him in it, blocking out the faint overhead lights.

“It’s so dark back here,” I say.

“It’s designed that way.”

I beat him to the door and open it for myself. The world beyond is bright lights, the sounds of traffic and shouts of late-night partiers in San Esteban. This February night is chilly enough for a coat, although San Esteban usually doesn’t require anything heavier than a hoodie.

Instead of following me outside, Gage remains in the doorway and tugs my wrist so I stand next to him.

“Baby girl,” he leans down to whisper in my ear, “if you want more of the darkness, call me.”

The door shuts and the warmth from the club dissipates. I shiver in the parking lot. Part of my shivering is from the crisp temperature. Part of it is because I’m wondering what the fuck I got myself into.

Nothing. I got myself into nothing. I have a boyfriend. And open relationship or not, that experience with Gage and Dmitri was far, far too intense to continue.

I’ll go home, and everything will be the same as it ever was.

Right. Totally happening.

5

Dmitri

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Leah

The lights flickering in my apartment windows tell me that Mick is still awake. I wish he wasn’t—it would be better if I could sneak in without facing him. I’m not ashamed of what I enjoyed at Low Vice, but tonight’s fun has definitely called into question my feelings for Mick. I don’t love him like I once did.

I tell myself that nothing has to change, but that’s a lie.

Something has already changed.

At the last second before I unlock the apartment door, I remember to unfasten the collar from my throat. I also lift up the hem of my shirt to remove the belly chain. I stuff both pieces of jewelry into my coat pocket.

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and step from the dim hallway into the apartment.

The digital sounds of gunfire fill the tiny living room. Strobe effects from the game on Mick’s large computer screen momentarily blind me. I quickly pick my way across the living room, dodging a day-old pizza box that I refuse to pick up for him, and several dirty articles of clothing. When did my boyfriend turn into such a slob?

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