Page 52 of Mastered By Desire

Unbelievable. Either I’m cursed or someone has it out for me. Possibly both.

“I can’t work that night?—”

“Gage made the schedule.” Betty points to my phone, then the hall leading to the offices. “You can take it up with him.”

Oh, I fucking will.

His office door is closed, but light shines from beyond the frosted glass window. I knock.

“Come in.”

I open the door and step into the room. It’s a pretty basic set-up. A desk with Gage’s chair, and a chair for a guest. A bookcase off to the side. Mostly empty other than a few binders. Black-and-white photos hang on the walls. They have the same aesthetic as others I’ve seen around the club—dark, sexy.

Gage watches me, his eyes patient behind his glasses. In his fine suit, he looks even more like a supervillain than usual.

“Dmitri. How can I help you?”

“What do you want with Leah?”

“My answer is the same one you gave me when I asked about your relationship with her. Namely, that it’s none of your business.”

I picture it again, the two of them kissing while she sat on his lap. Out of every beautiful, deviant, depraved act happening in the crowded club last night, the sight of the two of them kissing was the only thing to make me feel.

It turned me on.

It enraged me.

“You’re jealous, Dmitri,” Gage says. “Either get comfortable living with that discomfort, or do something about it.”

“She’s better?—”

“Than either of us. Yes, yes, I know.” His voice is soothing and mocking at the same time. “But perhaps we ought to let her make that discovery on her own, don’t you think?”

I pull in a heavy breath, trying to calm myself. “I don’t want to work that night.”

“The schedule is already made. See if you can find someone to switch with you.”

“You made that schedule. You can change it.”

He shrugs. “But I won’t.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Is that all?” He drums his fingertips on his desk.

“Don’t hurt her.” I don’t threaten him. I don’t need to. My voice is strong, and low

“There’s the Dom.” His gaze is steady on mine. “I was beginning to wonder if you were a switch.”

Fuck him. Nothing wrong with being a switch, but I don’t like what he’s implying—that he controls me. That he dominates me.

He’s my boss. Nothing more. I don’t even answer to him most of the time.

A realization rocks me back on my heels. He’s been pulling my strings, manipulating me because of Leah. I’ve been letting it happen.

I’m not a switch, and I’ll no longer be a pawn.

Saying nothing, I leave his office. If I can’t convince him to change the schedule, maybe I can talk Leah out of coming to the auction.

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