Page 277 of Hell Hath No Fury
“You’re not actually going to use the bullwhip are you, because—” He arches his brow, and I interrupt, planting a kiss on the end of his nose and flash a knowing grin.
“I won’t have to. I spoke to Charlie today, and guess what?”
“What?”
“I told Mary, I thought I recognised Edward’s name, and then I remembered, he was almost a client of mine. We had started to talk, discuss suitability, preferences, that sort of thing, but itwas the very early stages of the negotiation. We hadn’t actually met. He was hoping to be a new client, and then…then you, and, well, I quit. I spoke to him and suggested Charlie. We did a handover, and I helped her out for a few weeks at the club, just until everyone was happy with the new setup. Anyway, Charlie is still very much his Domme. Edward is more than a little besotted with her, and Charlie was not very happy with what I told her.”
“You know you can’t out him, Sam. That would be very bad,” he cautions with genuine, if somewhat misplaced concern. I happen to agree.
“I won’t have to. This isn’t about the club. Mary told me about him, so my knowledge of him and the club is independent. If they make an issue out of it, they would have to own up to what they know, how they know it, and why the hell that would make a difference.”
“And you’re positive our affiliation with the club is the reason Roman was rejected? This is actually a big deal, Sam. I will back you, whatever; you know that. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. This could be a big can of worms.”
“Not worms, vipers. Today, I overheard Stephanie call me a whore who married well. So, yes, I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with me and the club.” I wasn’t hurt; I was fucking mad that I couldn’t deal with it at the time.
“And she’s not in hospital? Fuck, Sam, I’m so sorry, baby.” He steps closer, his big strong arms envelop me, and the simmering fury ebbs.
“A dish served cold, I believe. If I’d knocked her out or worse, it would’ve just played into her hands. I’m not the villain here, she is. Besides, Roman came running round the corner, so I really couldn’t tear her a new one. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to stop. I’d have probably killed her. She doesn’t deserve that; she deserves to have that glass house of hers smashed to smithereens.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Something subtle, something that gets his attention and makes Stephanie realise who she’s dealing with.”
“Subtle? Looking like a goddess of the underworld? I don’t think so, baby girl.” He pulls me into a sideways hug and walks us both toward the bedroom door.
“Says the man dressed as a gladiator.”
“Are you not entertained?” he barks out his best Russell Crowe impression.
“Mmm,” I reach around, slip my hand between the leather skirt strips, and grab a good fistful of his fine arse cheek through his boxer briefs. “Extremely entertained.”
“Mmm, move your hand round to the front, and we’ll skip tonight. We have a babysitter; we can head straight back to the club.”
“Nope, we’re doing this.” I release his butt cheek and laugh when he narrows his eyes playfully, skipping out of his reach when he tries to grab me back. I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear a long slow whistle from the entrance hall below.
“Holy frolicking sheep.” Will censors himself as he sways a sleepy looking Madi in his arms. Roman is driving his big fire truck between Will’s legs. He is a complete natural with both of them, but his eyes couldn’t be any wider if they were stitched open.
“Sheep, hmm?” I tease, patting the side of his cheek before I lean in for a kiss.
“Wow, what sort of party is this?” His face is a perfect mix of intrigue and suspicion.
“It’s a charity cocktail party at St. Michael’s, fancy dress.” Jason slips my floor length faux fur coat over my shoulders.
“We won’t be there long,” he adds curtly, making me snicker and roll my eyes.
“Yeah, Jason said something about an evil plan.”
“Evil? Moi?” Dropping my hip and batting my lashes, I display my most innocent smile.
“Madi should sleep through, once you put her down, and this little one needs to be in bed half an hour ago.” I ruffle Roman’s long curly hair when he passes by my feet on his hands and knees. He sits back on his bottom and roughly crosses his arms. Pouting like a pro, he switches from grumpy to pleading.
“Awww, Mummy, Unca Will said I could stay up and watch the big fight.”
“He’s not watching boxing at his age.”
“Snitch.” Will wrinkles his nose and manages to reach and tickle Roman into a fit of excited squeals at the same time keeping Madi safe and dozing in the other arm. Like I said, a natural.
“I’m serious. It’s hard enough getting him to sleep as it is this close to Christmas. An adrenaline rush just before bed is not going to help, as you will soon find out,” I warn.
