Page 43 of Point of Contention

He slipped his big hand around hers and my knuckles paled as I tightened my grip on the arms of the chair. The plastic creaked from the pressure.

He brought her hand to his lips, and it was all I could do to remain seated. Frustration at my utter impotence coursed through my veins.

As he strode away from her, he looked up into the camera and smirked.

As if he knew I watched.

He couldn’t possibly, but his blatant arrogance added another layer to my growing disdain for him.

Focusing on Rylan once more, I watched her close her mouth and lean back in her chair. She stared at her hand resting awkwardly on the counter top.

Whatever he’d said—or done—had left her in a state of shock, and my mind beat at me ceaselessly with guesses as to what he may have implied. Had he kissed her hand?

Threatened her?

Propositioned her?

Invited her downstairs?

Assumption after assumption whirled through my mind like a tornado of abusive thoughts, but the truth was, I had no idea what he said to her and no way of finding out. There was no voice feed for the upstairs video surveillance, and unless I asked Rylan outright, I doubted Gage would be forthcoming.

And you know what? It was none of my fucking business.

Gritting my teeth, I shook my head and clicked out of the security feed.

Rylan Blake was not my intern. She was not my submissive.

And she was not now, nor would she ever be, my fiancé.

Squaring my shoulders, I opened up my inbox. I’d neglected my duties here while my life outside the club unraveled, but I refused to let that continue. I needed to focus on my priorities, both in the underground and out, and that meant putting the final nail in the coffin that held my feelings for Rylan Blake.

As Ombudsman, I handled complaints and concerns, and after that shit Stella pulled, our members had many. Breathing deeply, I opened the first email and began to address each member’s messages as carefully and delicately as possible. I did my best to alleviate their fears and smooth over their frazzled nerves.

By the time midnight rolled around, my neck was kinked, my hands ached from typing, and I’d put a nice little dent in members’ emails.

I’d address more tomorrow, but for now, I needed to give my eyes a break.

Shutting down the desktop computer, I rose to my feet and stretched, then collected my things from the desk and slipped my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. I checked my phone, pausing at the door of Mina’s office as I opened my messages app to read a text from Anvil, one of the dungeon guards, that stopped me in my tracks.

Your sub is here. With Master Gage.

Closing my eyes on a long blink, I breathed deeply. I’d demanded they keep me abreast of club business at all times, but may have asked this guard specifically to alert me if Rylan ever stepped foot in the club again.

I replied with a quick‘thank you’, then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

A left turn would lead me out into the main part of the club, where I could hunt down Gage and put a stop to this.

So I turned right, and headed to the parking garage.

If Rylan had decided to return to the Rabbit Hole without me, this time as a guest of Gage Magnusson, it was out of my hands.

We were well and truly over.

My phone buzzed with another text alert as I slipped it into my pocket, so I pulled it back out. The screen glowed brightly in the dark hallway, Anvil’s follow-up message staring up at me:

I don’t like this.

I stopped then, fighting myself as I turned away from the underground garage and returned to the club. Anvil wouldn’t get involved if he truly hadn’t seen something he didn’t approve of, had never intervened in relationships between members—unless absolutely necessary—and though I trusted him to handle things within the Rabbit Hole when they went awry, there was no way in hell I’d allow Rylan to be in a dangerous predicament if I could prevent it.

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