Page 4 of Pretending with the Mountain Man
"Understood." Noah pushes off the wall. "Security meeting at three. Don't be late."
After he leaves, I find a quiet corner to collect myself. Noah hit too close to home, which pisses me off. I've spent twenty years building a life of control and discipline after Sage's mother left. Raised my daughter alone, built my security career, earned my place in this community, and at Club Crimson. I don't lose control. Not for anyone.
Yet one look at Melody Washington had my dominant instincts roaring to life. The need to protect. To possess.
"Fuck," I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sage:
Sage:Dad, added Melody to your emergency contacts list. Just in case. She's still jumpy after everything with Jason.
Jason.The name of the man who hurt her. I didn't get details from Sage, just enough to know Melody came to Crimson Hollow running from something. Someone.
I text back.
Me: Smart. Cabin will be ready tonight.
I spendthe afternoon reviewing security protocols with Jake Winters, our head of security, both for the club and remotely for the guest cabin. By evening, we've installed new camera systems, reinforced locks, and set up alerts that will ping my phone if anyone approaches the property.
It's after nine when I finish the meeting with the night security team. I'm heading to my truck when my phone pings with a location alert from one of our staff.
Unknown vehicle circling parking lot.Driver asking about new teacher in town. Sending photo.
The image showsa black sedan with Ontario plates. I immediately dial Sage.
"Dad? What's up?"
"Where's Melody?"
Sage's voice sharpens. "She wanted to explore on her own for a bit. Said she was going to check out that new place that opened where the old ski lodge was. Forbidden Chains? Why?"
"Someone's asking about her. Ontario plates." I'm already changing direction, heading toward my Jeep. "Stay at your place, door locked. I'll find her."
"Dad, wait?—"
I hang up and peel out of the parking lot. Forbidden Chains is the new upscale BDSM club that opened last month, catering to tourists and wannabes. Not a real scene establishment like Club Crimson, but a place for people to dip their toes into the lifestyle. The Kane brothers have been keeping an eye on it, making sure they're following proper safety protocols.
The fact that Melody went there on her own sets off every protective instinct I have.
I make the drive in record time, parking in the crowded lot and scanning for Ontario plates. No sign of the black sedan. I barge my way past the line, nodding to the bouncer who recognizes me from Club Crimson.
"Harris," he acknowledges. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Looking for someone," I reply curtly, stepping into the dimly lit interior.
Forbidden Chains aims for the aesthetic of a kink club without the true ethos. Red velvet booths line the walls, while demonstration areas show carefully choreographed scenes forthe gawking crowd. The bar serves overpriced cocktails with names like "Safe Word" and "Surrender."
I scan the space, searching for Melody among the bodies packed onto the dance floor and around the demonstration platforms. The music thrums, bass vibrating through the floor as I push through the crowd.
Then I spot her at the bar, and my blood runs cold.
Melody sits perched on a barstool, wearing a simple black dress that hugs curves her oversized sweater had hidden. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders. She looks beautiful. And uncomfortable.
A man stands too close, one hand braced on the bar behind her, effectively trapping her. Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the polite but strained smile as she leans away from him.
I move without thinking, cutting through the crowd with purpose. As I approach, I catch fragments of their conversation.
"—just one drink," the man insists. He's younger than me but older than Melody, dressed expensively with the confident entitlement of someone used to getting his way. "I know you're new in town. I could show you around."
