Page 3 of Salacious Devotion

I chuckle. “You two have never been bored a day in your lives. Aren’t you working on the latest cell phone app? Something that will beam users up to the moon or something,” I joke.

“We were, but we finished that one last week, and we don’t start working on the Mars app until next week, so come hang with us.”

I laugh, but then I groan. “You have a bottle of scotch in your office?”

“You insult us. Have you ever known us not to have scotch or any other beverage in the third-floor office?”

He’s right. It’s a haul down to the bar on the first floor, and Easton and Drake are too fucking kind to their employees to ask them to bring drinks upstairs throughout the night, so they stock their own small bar.

“It better be expensive.”

“Only the best,” Easton says.

This is a terrible idea. I’m horrible company. But my entire body is sore from working out far too much this past week. Maybe I should switch to getting shitfaced instead. At least I’ll be able to sleep well afterward. It might get me through the night.

“Fine.”

“Great. See you soon. If you’re not here by ten, we’re coming for you.”

“Got it.” I end the call and stand. Walking toward the window, I stare down at the moving cars and people. Everyone has somewhere to be. They’re all in a hurry.

I want to shout at them to slow the fuck down. Call their loved ones. Hug them. Kiss them. Make love in the rain. Have wine and cheese on the hood of their car. Because no one knows how much time they have left. It can slip through your fingers like sand.

I walk back over to my desk and drop onto my expensive chair as though I’m a hundred years old. I feel like it some days. I’m a whopping thirty-five, and I’ve been barely living for three years. Existing.

I’ve moved. I’ve started over. I’ve relocated my security company to Seattle. I’ve made more money than most people make in a lifetime. I’m rich. I’ve got everything a guy could possibly want. When I go out, women hit on me. When I’m at the club, I have my choice of partners.

What I don’t have is Paige.

I stare at the open calendar on my desk. Today is totally blank. I never write anything on this date every year. I don’t make appointments. I don’t schedule calls. I like it blank. Open. Permanently open to celebrate my girl’s birthday.

She would have been twenty-seven today. Another year without her. Sometimes, it seems like yesterday; other times, it seems like it’s been fifty years. I miss her so much it hurts deep in my chest. A physical pain I reach up to rub that won’t go away.

I know I’m stuck. I need to move on. But I can’t.

Chapter 2

Dane

* * *

“To friends.” Drake lifts his glass and clanks it against mine at the same time as Easton.

“To friends,” I mumble. I’m damn lucky to have them and grateful they put up with my moping once a year. I tip back my scotch and take a hearty sip. I should probably pace myself. Drunk is good. Shitfaced is over the top.

Easton’s phone vibrates on his desk, and he leans over to pick it up. “Sorry,” he mouths. The guys own this club. I wouldn’t expect them to shut off all communications with the first two floors just because I’m with them.

Easton nods, a funny gesture when people are on the phone. Why do we always forget that the caller can’t see our body language? “Yep. Okay. Let me know if you need anything. We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Drake glances at Easton as his twin ends the call. “What was that about?”

“New member. This is her first night on the second floor. Marny says she seems skittish, so she’s trying to find someone to give her a tour. The monitors are keeping an eye on her, but Marny wanted us to have a heads-up.”

I swirl my drink around in the glass, staring at it, half listening.

Drake leans over one of the monitors. “That must be her.”

Easton looks closer. “Yep. Skittish, all right. She’s rubbing her hands together like she’s never been to a fetish club before.” He turns back to me. “Sorry about that. We like to make sure new members are taken care of and feel welcome.”

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