Page 36 of Ward

The two men share a tense glance. As a longtime friend and founding member of the community we’re all part of, I owe them an explanation.

“The night of the play party, Grace asked me to be her Dominant,” I say. “I told her she was too young. We went back and forth and I ultimately decided it was better to keep an eye on her than to risk her trying to get involved on her own.”

Matthew’s gaze narrows. “What exactly does keeping an eye on her entail?”

“Giving her a bedtime. Making sure she does her homework. I’ve been training her as a service submissive. But her birthday’s fast approaching—”

“And you can’t stop thinking about all that unmarked flesh,” Dante says.

I shoot a firm glare in his direction. “I thought our arrangement would run its course, but she’s thriving. I want to train her properly, once she’s old enough.”

Matthew pours himself a brandy and drinks it down. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Aidan? You haven’t had a dedicated submissive in... Fuck, how long has it been?”

“Twenty years, give or take.”

Dante scoffs. “Does the poor thing know what she’s getting into?”

“I plan to discuss the details with her when I present the collar.”

“I mean, does she know you won’t be fucking her? Assuming it’s still your intention to allow ripe fruit to wither on the vine.”

I lift my glass in mock cheers. “Indeed, it is.”

Dante shakes his head. “In that case, you should get her a vibrator to go with the collar. I’ll text you a link.”

I wait at the café for over half an hour with no texts or calls from my son. Since it’s a fair day, and his apartment isn’t too far, I decide to walk to see if he slept in. I put up with a lot where Liam’s concerned, because I know his resentment is justified. But my tolerance for childish antics has its limitations.

His roommate answers the door. Judging by the man’s tussled hair, I get the impression my knocking pulled him out of bed.

“I’m looking for Liam,” I say.

“He doesn’t live here anymore.”

I catch the door before he can shut it.

“Since when?” I ask.

The other man scowls “Since he flipped the fuck out and started waving a gun around like some kinda psycho. Crazy fuckin’ asshole got into it with one of my friends and pulled a pistol on him. I told him to pack up his shit and get the fuck out.”

“Where is he now?” This is the first I’ve heard of Liam owning a gun, and I can’t say I find the news comforting.

“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Don’t care.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the caller ID: Liam. I thank his now-former roommate for his time and then take the call.

“Hey,” Liam says. “I’m at the café. Where are you?”

“Your apartment. Or what used to be your apartment.”

“Shit...” He sighs. “Yeah, sorry, I lost track of time.”

“You want to tell me what the hell happened? He said you had a gun.”

Liam snickers. “That guy’s full of shit. His buddy started the fight. I kicked the shit out of him. Now he’s calling me a psycho so he doesn’t have to return my security deposit.”

I can already feel a headache brewing between my eyes. It’s hard to tell over the phone whether he’s bullshitting me. As a rule, where Liam’s honesty is concerned, I find the truth usually falls somewhere to the left of wherever he says it is.

“Where are you living now?” I ask.

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