Chapter Seven

EMMA

Emma’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on her keyboard, but her mind was far from the email correspondence on her screen. Last night had been a disaster. All it had taken was a few minutes in Joey’s presence and she was back to being the kid sister again.

Even if she wanted to come clean to Dante about her identity, she couldn’t now. If she wanted to see him again, she’d have to keep up her fa?ade of Queen Mab.

A flurry of girlish laughter pulled Emma’s wandering attention to the doorway of her office. Lila and Peaches, two of the admittedly beautiful but insufferably vapid models on Couture’s payroll, paused in the hallway just outside. At least they weren’t pushy or mean like Kiki had been.

“I heard Dante Ashton has a few open appointments this week,” Lila murmured, twirling a lock of shimmering blonde hair around one slender finger.

Emma kept her eyes studiously fixed on her computer screen, hands still as she strained to listen.

Peaches smirked, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “Think he can squeeze us in? I mean, everyone says his sessions are transformative.”

“More like transcendent,” Lila purred in agreement, eyes glinting with unabashed hunger.

A flash of irrational jealousy lanced through Emma’s chest like a lightning strike. Her fingers clenched into impotent fists atop the desk, fingernails biting crescents into her palms. Did they know about Club Inferno? They shouldn’t be talking like that up here at Couture, if they did.

Or maybe they were just trying to fuck Dante the therapist instead of Dante the Dom.

She really couldn’t blame them. The man didn’t just fulfill fantasies—he crafted entire realms from them, bending the world to his dominant will until pleasure and pain blurred into one shattering, all-consuming rapture.

“Think he’d be up for a two-for-one deal?” Peaches snickered, oblivious to Emma’s molten fury. “You distract him while I sit on his face?”

The crude remark detonated like a grenade inside Emma’s churning thoughts. She rocketed up from her chair before she could stop herself, the metal base skidding back with an earsplitting screech. Both models whipped around, eyes widening in surprise.

“Is there a problem?” Emma asked, her tone spiked with poisonous sweetness even as her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Uh, hey, Emma.” Lila offered a sheepish wave that did nothing to cool the red haze of jealousy clouding Emma’s vision. “We were just, you know, talking.”

“About booking sessions with Dante Ashton, our counselor,” Emma supplied flatly, struggling to keep her voice level and professional despite the cacophony of emotions roiling within. “I heard.”

A flicker of contrition ghosted across Peaches’s features before the mask of indifference slammed back into place. “Yeah, that’s right. Is there a problem with the talent requesting his services?”

She opened her mouth, a blistering retort already formed on her tongue, but what could she say? What justification did she have to deny their private requests, unprofessional or not? Dante was technically a counselor on Couture’s payroll. Emma had no grounds to refuse them.

Or did she?

An idea sparked in Emma’s mind, ill-advised but tantalizing in its trail of implications. A way to keep these thirsty models away from Dante without causing a scene. Emma went back to her desk, clicking through files and schedules before she could second-guess herself.

“Hey.” Lila drew out the word, shifting her weight from one stilettoed foot to the other with impatient expectation. “I’m feeling a little anxious. Think you can book me a session as soon as possible?”

“Me too,” Peaches chimed in, somehow making the simple request sound lascivious with just the tone of her voice. “Thanks. And send us a text once it’s all set.”

“Sure,” she said between her teeth. “I’ll have to check his schedule and see if he can squeeze you two in.”

“Thanks.” Lila and Peaches fingerwaved and then sashayed away, hips swaying. Emma stabbed at her keyboard, jaw clenched painfully.

With a few deft keystrokes, Emma assigned them appointments to one of the other counselors Couture had on retainer—Dr. Martinez. He was an older, portly gentleman, but well known for his uncanny way of making people feel at ease and opening up about their deepest troubles.

Sure, her actions had been petty and unprofessional, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty. Not when it came to protecting Dante from the wandering, juvenile advances of those two airheaded leeches.

The bravado slowly faded, however, leaving Emma awash in the chill of self-recrimination. What was she doing? Getting so territorial over a man who wasn’t hers to claim in the first place? Even if she had shared his dominance once before under the shroud of anonymity, he could never truly be hers. Not when he still thought of her as Joey’s innocent little sister.

Emma pushed away from her desk, a frustrated groan slipping free as she paced the narrow confines of her office. Every decision, every interaction, just brought her crashing back into the stark reality that he was a family friend, a man whom she could never fully have.

Halloween was supposed to have been one night of escape, of indulgence without consequence. But in the aftermath, with these lingering flames of desire licking at her composure, Emma found herself teetering closer and closer to a line that could never be uncrossed.

Which was why she needed to reschedule those sessions, to undo the petty selfishness that had led her to deny the models what any client was rightfully entitled to at Couture. Emma dropped back into her chair and pulled up the system once more. A few clicks undid her selfish reassignment, booking them into Dante’s calendar for later that day.

Resigned, she shot off a quick text to each of them:

Your appointment details are attached. Please confirm if these times work for you.

There. Crisis averted. Professional integrity maintained, even if it stung to know Dante would be alone with those two women later. Probably catering to their every whim and desire in that low, commanding rasp that never failed to have Emma squirming.

“Up,” Ezina said, reaching with chubby grasping fingers.

“Yeah, we should get some exercise.” Emma walked over and lifted Ezina out of her Pack n’ Play. Tee, Colleen, and Anya were in a meeting that would probably last until lunch, so it was just the two of them. Emma held Ezina’s hand and they went for a walk around the floor. It wasn’t a surprise that Ezina led her to the fruit vendor. She pointed to a strawberry-and-blueberry parfait and Emma sat with her on the patio and helped her eat it.

If things had been going according to plan in her life, she would be sitting on a carpet in a school teaching kids colors and the alphabet. She refused to let her mind go to the dark place where they practiced lockdown drills during her student teaching sessions. Emma’s eyes watered and she looked around the well-groomed area to steady herself. They were on the tenth floor of the resort, but it looked like any street-level café. It was beautiful here. Peaceful. Safe.

Of course, just as she was getting herself settled, Kiki Pretty sauntered out and sat down. Luckily, Emma was good at being invisible and Kiki was self-absorbed. Emma kept her head down and tried to hurry Ezina along with her snack.

“Let’s go back and I’ll read you Toby the Train,” Emma cajoled.

But just then, Dante strode out and sat at Kiki’s table. Jealousy stabbed through Emma again, this time with traces of hurt. Emma tried to focus on the snack, but the sight of them together ate away at her confidence. The more she watched, the more she felt like an outsider looking in, unsure of her place in this world or in Dante’s life.

“I’m done,” Ezina said, and scooted out of her chair. “Toby time.”

Emma’s gaze flitted back to Dante and Kiki, watching as they conversed with ease. Well, now Emma wanted to stick around and eavesdrop. But Ezina wasn’t about to be stopped since that Toby the Train was on the agenda. As Emma hurried after the toddler, she saw Kiki put her hand on Dante’s arm and throw her head back and laugh.

It shouldn’t have stung as much as it did.

Once they were back in Colleen’s office, Ezina brought Emma a handful of books. After reading several adventures of Toby, Ezina started getting bored. But by that time, Tee, Colleen, and Anya had come back from their meeting. Istvahn was with them.

“We’re going to take Ezina for the rest of the day,” Tee said. “We’re heading out to the zoo.”

“It’s a nice day for it,” Emma said, both a little sad and relieved to see Ezina go.

Luckily, Colleen and Anya had a list of vendors they needed her to call to confirm shipments, so it kept her busy. Emma was still distracted enough about Dante and Kiki that she called the same vendor twice.

This was crazy. She needed to talk to Dante.

No. She needed Master Dante.

Before she could second-guess herself, Emma pulled up his dungeon schedule. He had an opening tomorrow night. Emma’s fingers trembled as she hovered over the keyboard, the cursor blinking on the screen like a silent dare. She knew it was a risk, knew that scheduling a session with Dante could change everything between them if he recognized that Queen Mab was her. But she needed to see him, be with him again. But some deeper part of her, some longing she could neither sate nor silence, had taken the wheel.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Emma entered her alter ego’s name into the system, requesting a session with Dante. Her heart raced as she hit send, the reality of what she had just done washing over her in a dizzying wave. There was no turning back now, no way to undo the choice she had just made.

As she waited for his response, Emma’s mind spun with a kaleidoscope of images, each one more tantalizing than the last. She imagined herself kneeling at Dante’s feet, his hand fisted in her hair as he commanded her to serve him. She pictured the heat of his gaze on her skin, the sting of his palm against her flesh as he punished her for her transgressions. And she felt the thrill of surrender, the intoxicating rush of giving herself over to his control, body and soul.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, each second an eternity as Emma waited for Dante’s reply. She tried to focus on her work, on the endless parade of emails and schedules that demanded her attention, but her mind kept drifting back to him, to the promise of what the night might hold.

And then, just as she thought she might go mad with waiting, a message appeared on her screen. Emma’s heart stopped as she clicked on it, her breath catching in her throat as she read the words that would seal her fate.

Dante had accepted her request. The session was on.

She was lost in anticipation when a few minutes later, her computer binged that a new email had come to the Queen Mab email address that she had set up. It was from Dante. The subject line said: Instructions for Tomorrow. Eagerly, she clicked it open.

No mask.

Underwear is optional.