Page 2 of Double Down & Dirty

Gray’s voice was also hard, but in contrast, calm, low, and deadly. “Of course he knows, Aurora. He also knows you spent Sunday night in another man’s bed.” Something light slapped down on his desk. “The private detective didn’t get your good side in these photos, but it really doesn’t matter, now does it? They’re not exactly People magazine material—more like Playboy.”

“Holy shit,” Abigail muttered to herself as she stepped over to subtly close Gray’s door the rest of the way. As much as she wanted to eavesdrop, she’d heard enough to know the other woman would no longer be sharing a bed with the twins. And the last thing she wanted was someone else to walk in and hear the screeching and sputtering from Aurora, which although still audible, was now sufficiently muffled.

Sitting back at her desk, she couldn’t help the perverse satisfaction that came over her knowing the snotty bitch had fallen from the “current girlfriend” column to the “ex” column. Maybe the next one would be a lot friendlier.

* * *

Gray watchedas Aurora marched out his office, madder than a wet hen. He was certain once her anger at being booted from their personal lives subsided, she’d be groveling and begging for them to take her back. And that wasn’t happening. While he and Remi had known their ménage with the superstar would one day fizzle out, like they all did, they hadn’t expected it to be so soon. And definitely not because she’d been cheating on them with her fucking bodyguard of all fucking people.

Leaning forward, he punched a button on his desk phone. “Abby, please get Ian Sawyer on the line for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sat back in his chair and tried to ignore how those two words flowing from his secretary’s pretty, plump lips made him feel. While he and Remi had no trouble dating their contracted artists, the employees of Black Diamond Records were off limits. And damn, didn’t that suck when it came to sweet Abby Turner. Everyone but the twins called her Abigail—Gray and Remi preferred the shortened moniker, and she’d never suggested she was unhappy with it.

With sensual, womanly curves, Abby made his dick twitch just by entering the room. But his brother and he had agreed long before she came to work for them that office romances—or brief trysts—were not an option. They didn’t want to put any woman through the company’s gossip mill; they valued their employees and would hate to see anyone hurt for being involved with the big bosses.

It wasn’t well-known, but his and Remi’s sexual proclivities veered toward the dark side. He was certain the beautiful, young thing who ran their offices with excellence would flee into the night, screaming if she knew what they wanted to do to her. Being Dominants in the BDSM lifestyle for years, they enjoyed sexual play that tended to be frowned upon by mainstream society, although many people’s misconceptions had changed in recent years thanks to popular romance novels featuring the subject. In fact, Ian’s sister-in-law, Kristen, was a famous author whose last few best sellers took place in a BDSM club similar to the one the Sawyer brothers owned, where Gray and Remi also happened to be members. The Covenant was the top, private lifestyle club in the Tampa/St. Petersburg area, and the elite membership was contingent on a strict background check.

“Ian Sawyer is on line three for you, sir.”

God, what he wouldn’t give for her to call him Sir during a scene where he and Remi made her cum over and over. Pushing the delicious thought from his mind, he picked up the phone. “Ian?”

The Covenant and Trident Security co-owner’s voice rumbled over the line. “What’s up, Gray? Did you take care of that problem?”

“This morning. Thank Boomer for getting those photos to me so quickly. Aurora is officially a thing of the past.” He’d suspected the woman had been cheating on them for a week before finally calling in a favor and having her followed. Ian’s employee and teammate had gotten up close and personal with a long-range, zoom camera lens the vultures who made up the paparazzi would drool over. The Trident operative had come to the house Gray shared with his brother last night with the 8 x 10 glossies. Ten minutes later, Gray had been packing up all the woman’s shit she’d left at the house and sent it by private courier this morning with a simple “fuck you” note attached. Petty, yes, but damn, it’d felt good. There was a list of things he wouldn’t tolerate in his woman and cheating was at the top, second only to disobedience when it came to safety.

“Good, and I will. I’ve already removed her from the club’s approved guest list.” If Aurora had been an actual member of the club, it wouldn’t have been so easy to blackball her, but she’d only been approved as a guest of Remi and Gray. Because of her guest status, she hadn’t been allowed to play on the premises, but it had let them explore possibilities for scenes at home with her. “If it’s any consolation, my wife says most of the submissives hated her, and as a result, won’t be buying any more of her music.” He paused, then added wryly, “Well, since that’s a loss of money for you, too, I guess that’s not anything to celebrate. Anyway, I spoke to Chase Dixon last night, and he’ll be firing the guard—he’s as strict as I am about guards messing with clients. And on that note, Dev and I have decided to expand the personal protection section of the business, so we won’t be contracting out the bodyguards as much anymore. One of Chase’s men, Doug Henderson, has signed on to oversee that division with us.”

“Glad to hear business is booming.”

“Always a good thing, right? So, are you and Remi going to be attending the races next Saturday? We’re trying to get a head count.”

Gray laughed for the first time all morning. December’s theme night was coinciding with the opening of the new wing at The Covenant. While the members knew a few basics of what was being added, a week from Saturday was the big reveal combined with the annual Christmas party. And to celebrate, A Night at the Reindeer Races was the theme. He could only imagine what that entailed, but like everyone else, he’d been left to speculate until then. “Yeah, we’ll be there. I’m sure we’ll find a single subbie to keep us entertained for the evening.”

“A new training class is finishing up, and they’ll be available as of this weekend, so I’m sure you’ll find some poor woman to fall for your charm.” The man’s amused grin could almost be heard over the phone. “Listen, I’ve got to run. If there’s nothing else ...”

“Yeah, we’re good. Send the bill to our residence.”

“You got it. Talk to you soon.”

Hanging up the phone, Gray spun his chair around and stared out over the Tampa Riverwalk. Behind him, he heard the door open, and Abigail cleared her throat before speaking. “Do you need anything before I go to lunch, sir?”

He didn’t turn back to face her. If he did, he’d be hard as a rock within seconds. “Abby, how many times have I asked you to call me Gray when we’re alone in the office?” He wanted to hear her call him by his first name as much as he wanted to hear her use the title Sir in a D/s setting. But, alas, he’d have to settle for the former because the latter would never happen.

“I—um—I ... a f-few times, sir ... I mean, Gray.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face. “Thank you. Have a nice lunch.”

“Th-thank you, sir ... I mean, thank you, Gray.”

The door shut and the brief sunshine that had brightened his world dimmed again.

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