Page 8 of Shrouded Desires
Pulling his money clip out of his pocket, he handed her a couple of twenties. “Why don’t you run and grab us a couple cups of coffee from the Starbucks downstairs – and a couple of those jelly filled rolls you like so much, sweetie?” He kept the words as vanilla as possible, but injected just enough dominance into his tone, that after a quick glance at her Master, she obeyed.
As soon as he was certain she was gone, Storm sank into the chair next to Max’s bed. “Guess we need to talk?”
Max flushed. “Damnit, I didn’t plan on having a heart attack, Storm. I know I promised that no one would ever know about our partnership but…”
Storm held up his hand. “But nothing. You’re gonna do exactly like the doc says and get better. Let me deal with the club.”
“But your team…” Max protested.
“Other than a few off-season appearances, I’m free to do pretty much whatever I want.” He rubbed his hand over his head. “Just give me a brief rundown of what I need to know, who are my go-to-guys, and I’ll figure the rest out.”
Max sank back into the pillows, relief written all over his face. “In my office I have a binder with all the supplier names, addresses, etc. for the bar, and then there’s a separate folder with our demonstration schedule. Just follow it and leave the rest to Raine.”
“Raine?” The name came out rough.
Max nodded. “Not only does he do the club’s books, he also lives on the premises. He knows the club inside and out.”
Storm studied his friend for a moment, trying to take in what Max was saying. Finally, he forced the words past his lips. “Whythefuck is your submissive living at the club?”
Chapter Four
After shutting the door to his room behind him, Raine made his way down the hallway toward Master’s office. Shortly after his confrontation with Storm, he’d decided against heading to the hospital. Lizzie would call if she needed him, and even if Storm was an asshole, he didn’t think the man would let her backslide. Instead, he’d made himself a bite to eat, left a note for Lizzie, then headed back to the club. It was Monday and there would be vendors calling for their orders, and tons of paperwork to do. The paperwork Raine could handle with ease. The vendors, however? That was a whole different kettle of fish as his southern grannie used to say.
He paused at the threshold of Maxwell’s office, the memory of the last time he’d been there threatening to overwhelm him. The chaos of paramedics, Master Lucas pacing the floor as they worked on Max, while he and the dom he’d been playing with watched on in horror.
“It’s just a room.” He reminded himself. “An empty space that requires my presence to finalize orders.” He’d been doing a better with his social anxiety as of late, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t rear its ugly head from time to time: like now. He’d been surprised he’d been able to hold it together at the hospital. But then again, Lizzie had needed him. “So, this should be easy. Go in and get it over with. Master is counting on you...”
He gave the knob a slow twist, then pushed open the door. Inside, the room was dark, and still. Hitting the light switch just inside the door, he braced himself. There was no body on the floor, no paramedics, or even any indication that twelve hours ago his master had been fighting for his life. Other than the plush desk chair pushed back from the heavy oak desk, it looked like it did every other time he entered. Heavy well-built furniture, bookcases lined with thick tomes, and beautiful hardwood floors that contrasted with creamy walls.
He bit his lower lip then blew out a ragged breath as he crossed the threshold. When nothing jumped out to grab him, he made his way to the desk. The plush pillow on the floor next to Master’s chair, teased a faint grin from him. More than once he’d knelt on that pillow at the end of the day, savoring the peace that Master brought him by merely allowing to let him behim. God, what was he gonna do without the man? True enough he found Max to be sexy, but their relationship wasn’t built on any sexual basis. He was like a beloved brother, or daddy who only wanted the best for Raine. Besides, ew...if you took Max you had to take Lizzie as well. And as much as he loved his bestie, girlie parts weren’t for him - at all.
The jangle of the phone on the desk startled him out of his thoughts. He jerked in surprise, before grabbing the thing.
“Redemption. Raine speaking.”
“Damned if you don’t sound professional, boy.” Master’s voice, faint but still strong, came over the line. “When I couldn’t reach you on your cell, I figured you’d be standing in my office trying to figure out where to start.”
“You caught me, Master.” Raine leaned against the edge of the desk to snag one of the binders off the desk. “Should you be on the phone? Last I checked you were in CICU for working too hard and smoking too much.”
“Not you, too.” Maxwell groaned. “Did you forget who’s the dominant here, Raine?”
“Nope.” He made a popping sound on the p. “But you’re there at the mercy of the nurses, and I’m standing in your office ten miles away. I figure my ass is safe for the moment.”
Maxwell actually chuckled at the words. “For the moment, but just remember I have a long memory, and I won’t forget the boy who sassed me. His ass will pay for it.”
“Of course, you won’t.” Raine flipped through the binder, looking for today’s scheduled vendors. “And I await your punishment, lord and master.”
“Smart ass.” Maxwell groused. “And here I thought I’d warn you that Storm is on his way to the club.”
Raine groaned as he found the sealed envelope dated for today. Why Master always stored the list in such a manner he didn’t know, but now wasn’t the time to muse on that. He had a bigger issue at hand. “Why? Storm’s never set foot in the club.”
“Because he owns forty-nine percent of the club, Raine. And with me out of commission someone has to run the damned thing, so I have something to come back to.”
Raine clenched his jaw as he grabbed the letter opener out of the pencil holder. The news that Storm owned such a large percentage of the club wasn’t a complete shocker. He’d seen the man’s name enough when he did the books, but not once in the three years he’d lived at the club had the man made one decision, or even had input on any. But now Master wanted him to run it? “Respectfully, Master, do you think that is such a good idea?”
“Good idea or not, it’s happening, sub.” Master’s disapproval dripped from the words. “All I need is for you to help facilitate any changes he might decide upon and keep the books like you always do - not work against Storm. Got me?”
The reminder of his position stung almost as much as the letter opener as it sliced the palm of his hand instead of the envelope in it. “Yes, Master. Keep the books like a good boy and stay out of things that don’t concern me. Anything else?”
