Page 6 of Betrayed

“Come on, Mari,” her friend cut in. “It’s inventory time. You know that’s your least favorite thing to do. You pay me well to manage the scut work for you. Take advantage.”

“Actually, I don’t mind it.”

Adri’s laughter rolled light and airy through the phone. “Last time, you said you’d rather have hot needles jammed under your fingernails. And, might I add, you bailed two hours in with a migraine.”

Mari blew out a breath. Put that way, she sounded like a prima donna breezing in, disturbing the flow of things out of boredom. Did she want to be that kind of owner? Adri was right. Inventory was tedious, and she hated it worse than any other task at the shop. But lately, staying home alone with nothing to do except dwell on the pathetic turn her life had taken was worse.

Convinced she shouldn’t inflict herself on her staff for no other reason, she relented. “Fine, but I want to come along on the next buying trip. I’ve missed that.”

“Of course, sweetie. That is your area of expertise after all. Fall fashion week is next month. Do you want to make reservations, or should I?”

Knowing Adri, who liked to control everything, ceding her such an important task had to rub her wrong, but she at least toned down the condescension. “I’ll do it. It will make me feel useful.”

“Aw, sugar, don’t talk that way. If you really want to help with inventory, we’ll make it happen.”

“No, you’re right. I’ll only muck up your well-oiled machine.”

They hung up after making plans to meet for brunch on Sunday before the shop opened for its half day. As soon as she disconnected, another call came through. The name on the caller ID brightened her day instantly.

“Jordy,” she said excitedly.

“Hi, Mom. I’ve only got a minute before class so I can’t talk, but I’m a little short of cash. Can you deposit my monthly funds a few days early?”

“Of course, honey, but—”

“Great. Gotta run. Professor Sherman doesn’t like stragglers. If asses aren’t in seats when he’s ready to start, he’s been known to lock the door. Talk soon. And thanks.”

Then the call disconnected, and he was gone, leaving her staring at the screen in disappointment. It had been weeks since she’d seen him. A few texts and brief calls like this one when he was in a hurry were all she’d had in between. She missed him and Beth, both.

A minute couldn’t have passed before her phone was vibrating again.

“Beth! Honey. Are you coming home this weekend? I’ve got tickets for that art exhibit—”

“That’s why I was calling. I’m in between classes so I can’t go into it now, but I need to cancel. That cute guy in my biology class I told you about finally asked me out. I couldn’t say no. I know we had plans, but can I take a rain check for next weekend?”

“Sure, but don’t you have a concert, then?”

“Rats! I completely forgot. There’s too much going on. We’ll make it the weekend after that for sure. Hey, I’ve gotta go. Class starts in two minutes.”

“Okay, baby. Call me and let me know how the date goes.”

“Sure thing. Oh, can you shoot me about two hundred bucks so I can get a killer outfit? You’re the greatest. Bye, Mom!”

Feeling like an ATM, who was out of sight and out of mind until something suddenly came up, Mari sank down onto the couch. Left to the quiet of her big empty house, she grabbed the cashmere throw draped over the armrest and curled up under it, feeling sorry for herself. As she stared at the once-loved cornflower-blue-and-white wallpaper that she was beginning to hate, she contemplated another lonely weekend. The realization followed that she had nothing to occupy her time during the week, either.

She yawned. A cozy nap would pass the hours, and since her doctor-prescribed sleeping pills had run out not long after Derek’s passing, leaving her with chronic insomnia, the idea was irresistible.

When she closed her eyes and saw a pair of haunting green eyes, it didn’t take much to decide it was time for another trip to San Antonio. But the whip master was out of the question.

Abruptly, she sat up, determined to do something this weekend. She’d call Reyn. Nice, safe, good-looking Master Reyn. He’d gotten her closer than any of them, and after their last session, he’d given her his number. Not that he sent her pulse racing, or that she felt the need to prostrate herself on the floor and swear undying love and loyalty to him. But he seemed perfect for her—perfectly safe.

He was looking to play and had no problem adhering to her restrictions without the head games. Most other doms saw it as their “job” to push her past limits and expand her BDSM horizons. Nuts to that! She wasn’t interested in being expanded, and Reyn didn’t want more than she was willing to give.

Mari reached for her phone, daring to send him a text. It wasn’t like her to be so forward, but it was better than trolling a bunch of strangers or sitting at home for another weekend alone.

Within the hour, they had plans to meet, and Mari was facing back-to-back weekends in San Antonio. It was a first; once a month was as frequent as she’d ever visited. But this would be different, with someone waiting for her. No sitting insubspacewaiting and wondering and hoping, no negotiating—he knew her limits—and without the stress of enduring another tepid scene with another tentative dom she simply didn’t enjoy. Maybe she could at last get past this barrier and finally find satisfaction in the parts that she did, or used to.

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