Page 9 of Unholy Obsession

Kira tilts her head. “What about your own love life?”

Quinn scoffs. “I can’t afford a love life for the next five years.”

I lean in, intrigued. “Five years? Why so specific?”

Quinn rolls her eyes at me. “Because, unlikesomeof us, I have to work for a living. I’m out to get my bag.”

“And then what?” I prop my chin in my fist, staring her down. “Gonna retire before you’re thirty? You make good money working for my brother. I always assumed you dommed at night because you liked it.”

“I domme at night because I get paid six hundred dollars an hour.”

Ismackthe table. “Holy shit.”

How have I never asked this after knowing her for four years?

Quinn smirks at my dropped jaw. “And that’s before the paypigs.”

Kira’s eyes light up like she’s just discovered a new species. “I’vereadabout that! You have financial submissives?”

Quinn shrugs, looking smug as hell. “If men want to worship me by throwing money at my feet, who am I to deny them the privilege?”

“But do youlikebeing a domme?” Kira asks, then immediately backtracks, hands twisting nervously. “I mean… like… is it natural for you?”

Quinn’s smirk flickers, just for a second. “I like being able to manipulate power dynamics in my favor. I’m good at reading people. It’s a means to an end.”

“But Domhn says you’re really good at your day job. Couldn’t you make just as much money if you tried to, I don’t know, start your own company?” I narrow my eyes at her. “I think you dothis for a reason. You’re not just good at being in control. You like it. You need it.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as Quinn sits up in her chair, foot going back to the floor as she squares her shoulders to turn toward me.

Oh, shit. Did I just stick my foot in my mouth? I always go too far.

Quinn’s eyes glitter. “You bet your ass I need to be in control if I’m having any sort of intimate interaction with a man.”

I nod. Huh. So, is it just about men? “I have noticed that you’ve been taking on more female clients lately.”

“Is it ’cause you swing that way?” Marcus interrupts from across the table, grinning like an idiot.

Quinnflicksthe cherry from her whiskey sour at his forehead. He ducks—too slow.

Ping.

Marcus snatches the cherry from his lap and tosses it in his mouth, winking.

“Ugh,” Quinn groans, rolling her eyes so hard they almost fall out of her skull.

“So what about after your five-year plan,” Kira asks. “What then?”

Quinn digs the toe of her boot into a crack in the concrete. “I just want to find my sister and then disappear somewhere by a beach. She deserves the good life from here on out.”

The energy shifts. Becomes heavy. Weighted. Quinn rarely talks about her sister, and we all know why. The system separated them, and then they lost her sister. How do youlosea person? And the state had thefucking nerveto act like she never existed. Quinn hacked the system herself trying to find her, got thrown in jail for it, and my brother pulled strings to get her out early. But her sister? Still missing.

Kira, ever the innocent academic, asks the worst possible question. “Where is she?”

Quinn’s head snaps up, her glare like a dagger. “If I knew, Kira, I wouldn’t belooking for her, now would I?”

Oh,shit.

Quinn exhales sharply, drags her hands through her hair, then mutters, “Sorry.” She flicks a glance Kira’s way, gaze softening. “I need a drink. You want anything?”

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