Page 62 of Mastered By Desire

My phone vibrates again. It’s probably nothing, but I need to order a ride, anyway. I take it out of my bag and nearly drop it. The message on the screen is from an unknown number.

Sorry about ur car. Next time will be worse tho. Pay up. You know who to call.

Hands shaking, I unlock my phone and open the messages. Beneath the text are three photos, each one taken during my tutoring sessions. In one, I’m sitting with Hector. In another, I’mwith Janie, and in another, I’m with Rosa. I remember each of these tutoring sessions yesterday.

None of us were aware that someone was taking pictures of us.

Chills race up and down my back.

Whoever sent the text could be watching me right now. After all, they were here in this parking lot.

I race back to the building and bang on the door.

Gage

I’m trying to finish up my work quickly tonight. Watching Leah pleasure herself while standing on my desk was pure bliss.

Also pure torture.

Her panties are in my pocket. I fully plan on taking them home with me and defiling them in the same way I wish I could do to her.

Everything about that power exchange makes me eager to pursue her outside of the club. Her favorable reception to my instructions was endearing. I revel in the way she embraced her newly-realized power. The vision she made by standing on my desk was exquisite.

I was in danger of asking her to come home with me. I’ve never invited a woman to my home. But I want to see Leah there.

Then Claudia called, saving me from my own ill-advised ideas. Claudia’s doing better, at least. Her insomnia had the best of her tonight, so she was calling to say hello.

Someone knocks on my office door.

“Come in,” I say.

The door swings open. Paxton steps inside, his arm around Leah’s shoulders.

The immediate possessiveness I feel is surprising. But it quickly dissipates when I see Leah’s terrified expression.

I stand up and hurry around my desk, reaching for Leah. “What happened?”

“My car.” Leah shudders under Paxton’s arm. “Tires. They’re—and my phone, they texted.”

I exchange a look with Paxton.

He looks as confused as I am, but he says, “Her tires are slashed.”

“And her phone?” I ask.

Leah hands it to me. It’s unlocked and open to a text thread.Sorry about ur car. Next time will be worse tho. Pay up. You know who to call. The message is followed by photos that were obviously taken without Leah’s knowledge.

“This is a threat,” I say quietly.

Leah nods.

“Do you know who to call? It says you do.”

“No. I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“We need to report this,” I say, “but there’s no rush; the people responsible are long gone. I’ll give you a ride home tonight. Tomorrow you’ll go to the police station. Either I will drive you, or Dmitri will.”

Paxton walks us out to my car. I see a small sedan in the parking lot with slashed tires—Leah’s.

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