Chapter 23

THE CALL SHEET FOR the following day drastically changed with her scenes cut back significantly. When she settled into the salon chair for hair and makeup, the reason for it surprised her; Dirk had called out sick. Rumors abounded, the predominant one that he was in a snit and pouting over the amount of direction he required to get through the scene the day prior.

Piper had other concerns. “What are his symptoms? He had his tongue in my mouth less than twelve hours ago.”

Vicki, the hairstylist working on her “Marlana updo,” put her mind at ease. “I’ve had that man in my chair off and on for three years. He might get hungover, but he doesn’t get sick, and he brags constantly about his high-priced Hollywood holistic healer-to-the-stars who he credits for his impervious immune system. His words, not mine. The only time he’s ever missed a day of shooting that I know of is when his tiny little prima donna feewings were hurt.” She said the last part in an exaggerated singsong voice, complete with a petulant pout.

Piper met the older woman’s eyes in the mirror. “Why does anyone hire him if he’s such a pain to work with?”

With a can of hairspray in hand and a rattail comb in the other, Vicki shrugged. “I hear he works cheap. Maybe it’s because of how he is. But the camera loves him, and for all his flaws, he has a great head of hair.”

The atmosphere of the set was noticeably more laid-back without Dirk’s arrogant smirk and irritated scowls to contend with. In her two scenes that day, which featured her without her costar, the mystery plot took center stage, and she got to keep all of her clothes on. She had to give kudos to the wardrobe department; her outfits fit perfectly and looked amazing. As an added bonus, she finished for the day before five.

She and Axyl had just walked in her front door when his phone rang. His deep, Sam Elliott rumble echoed in the hall as she retrieved a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and poured them each a tall glass. She was on her way to the balcony to relax with her drink, since she had three hours before she had to leave for the club, when Axyl stopped her.

Holding out his phone, he simply stated, “Tristan.”

Piper froze, realizing she had never spoken to him on the phone before. Why was he calling now? Was he canceling their plans for tonight?

Axyl overcame her hesitancy by picking up her hand and laying his phone on her palm. Then he disappeared down the hall, giving them some privacy, which only increased her worry.

“Hello?” she answered tentatively.

“I’m hung up with a case and probably won’t get to the club until 9:30. Is that too late? Do you have an early call time tomorrow?”

Though he spoke with a sense of urgency, his voice lacked its usual gruffness and was surprisingly soothing. It reminded her of the demonstration, the first time she had seen him in rope-master mode. She wondered if he pitched it lower deliberately, to put the woman he was tying at ease. It would certainly have that effect on her. Perhaps not so much if she was dangling upside down with the blood rushing to her head. Was that what he had planned for her tonight?

“Piper? Did I lose you?”

His question snapped her out of the shibari tangent her brain had taken. “I’m still here.”

“Is everything okay? You sound distracted.”

She quickly searched for an excuse other than admitting she had been fantasizing about tonight. “Um...we just got home,” she explained, which was true. “Nine thirty works fine. Unless...would you prefer to reschedule?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted offering the option. The mere taste he had given her wasn’t nearly enough.

Silently, she pleaded, Say no. Please say no!

“I’d rather not do that. We only have tonight and tomorrow as it is.”

“I’ll see you at 9:30, then,” she said brightly, her excitement renewed.

“Meet me in the lounge. You won’t be allowed past the monitor at the playroom doors without me.”

As if she’d dare enter the Decadence dungeon alone.

“Before I go, I wanted to share some other news. We’ve cleared Hunter.”

Piper sank into a kitchen chair, weak in the knees from relief. “How? When?”

“We canvased the neighbors, if you remember. Hunter said he was out of town the night of the break-in, and his story checked out.”

“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that, but I wondered. Did you mention he was a suspect? He hasn’t so much as looked at me since it happened.”

He’d been to their table reads, and she’d seen him on set when she’d been in for wardrobe fittings, but they hadn’t spoken. It made things awkward, and she didn’t need that. Her nerves were on edge already.

“He knew he was on the short list, Piper. He was a neighbor, knew your schedule, it was his pool party, and you shot him down when he asked you out, which could have given him motive, although that was a stretch.”

“I didn’t shoot him down, exactly. I was very polite. But I don’t remember telling you about that.”

“You didn’t. You told Detective Lloyd, and he shared it with me, although you should have been the one to tell me. If we want to solve this mystery and catch your stalker, you need to be transparent—about everything. Is that clear?”

The sternness in his authoritative tone was palpable. It compelled her to address him as “sir,” but she reminded herself they weren’t at the club and their arrangement ended there. She answered with a simple, “Yes.”

“I hope so,” he replied. “We’ll discuss it more later.”

She was about to ask if it was really necessary, but he didn’t give her the chance.

“I have to go if I’m going to meet you on time.”

The call abruptly ended, with no goodbyes or sweet words, but that wasn’t Tristan’s style. Axyl reappeared and took the phone from her hand.

“Got yourself verbally spanked, didn’t you?”

She looked up at him, surprised. “He told you?”

“About Hunter? Yes, since I’m also assigned to your case, which will take longer to solve without full disclosure from you.”

“That’s what Tristan said.”

“Why did you tell Lloyd and not him?”

She blew out a breath, preferring the awkward scene with Dirk to discussing the ins and outs of her and Tristan’s weird non-relationship. “He seems like a loner, yet he and Hunter are friends. I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to stir up trouble between them if it turned out to be nothing.”

“This is your safety we’re dealing with, Piper. Let the professionals decide what to do with the intel.”

“I understand that now, although Tristan mentioned we would discuss it—later.”

“I bet you will. Over a bench, most likely.”

Piper’s head snapped up sharply. “Do you think he would actually...punish me for real?”

“That’s what I would do if you were my submissive and you failed to tell me about something as significant as this.”

Her heart sank, filled with an odd sense of disappointment. Did she genuinely want to be disciplined like a naughty child? Or was it the notion of Tristan doing that spanking that intrigued her? It didn’t really matter either way, in their case.

“I should be fine, then because I’m not his sub. I’m only a neighbor with benefits and his stand-in rope model.”

Axyl’s low laughter rumbled through the kitchen. “Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll believe it, but you’ll be the only one.”

“It’s true!” she insisted. “We have an arrangement.”

“You’ve been to Decadence and have seen the other couples. Most started with an arrangement. It’s usually called a contract in our world, but more often than not, they lead to a ring or a collar, eventually.”

“Not this time. Tristan isn’t looking for permanence.”

“Then I’m wrong, and he’s a fool, but I rarely am and he’s one of the best, smartest PIs we have. Just sayin’.” He glanced at his phone before sliding it into the rear pocket of his jeans. “It’s past five, and I’m starved. Should we order dinner in or go out?”

“I’d rather not deal with the crowds or the wait. I could cook something, since I don’t have to be at the club for a while.”

His eyes lit up, but he hedged. “You were on set all day. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I like to cook.” Piper got up and went to peruse the fridge. Then she peered at him around the open door. “I have chicken breasts. Do you like Italian? I make a mean chicken caprese. Although, I’ll need to go light on the garlic, or Tristan will be the one demanding breath mints.”

“Piper, darlin’,” he said in his Texas drawl with a huge grin spreading across his face. “You had me at I could cook .”

She smiled up at the big man. “I like you, Axyl Tavares. Are you sure you and Josie can’t straighten out what’s between you?”

Sobering, he grunted, “Maybe if I knew what it was.”

Her friend hadn’t confided in her either. “You seriously have no idea?”

“Not a clue. One minute, we were touring the private rooms, getting along just fine, and the next, she was asking to go back to the lounge. Since that night, I’ve called her twice, but she doesn’t return my calls.” He fell silent for a moment before he acknowledged, “It’s probably for the best. Communication is crucial between a dominant and submissive, and while I’m attracted to your friend, it wouldn’t have worked out if she couldn’t be open with me.”

Like she hadn’t been with Tristan, no matter her well-meaning motive. Her guilt ticked up. Maybe she deserved to be bottom-up over a bench. She tabled that thought and got back to Josie.

“Something is going on. I’ve always found her to be honest and straightforward. It’s one of the many things I appreciate about her.”

“It would have to be mighty important for me to overlook it at this point. I’m not a fan of secrets. Even less of one about lies, even ones by omission.”

Uh-oh. There went another uptick; hers had been a lie of omission.

Done with the subject, Axyl promptly changed it. “About that chicken? I did a sweep while you were on the phone, and we’re locked up tight. I’m free to be your sous chef if you need one.”

“Great! You’re in charge of chopping onions. It always makes me cry.”

“Me too. Don’t even think about telling anyone. You’d destroy my cultivated badass rep.”

Her head whipped around, mouth rounded in surprise. But then he winked, and she burst into laughter. She liked Axyl. It was too bad for her friend. She was missing out on something special. She remembered what Tristan had said about being afraid to try new things. That was Josie. After her drama was over, she was going to see what she could do to fix them.

SINCE TRISTAN WAS AXYL’S relief, he escorted her to the club. As soon as they entered the lounge, her charismatic bodyguard was in high demand by doms and subs alike. Several submissives made a play for his attention, hoping to be his sub du jour. And they did it right in front of her.

As the angelic blonde in pale pink walked away—he had politely declined her while keeping the possibility open for later—Piper placed her hands on her hips and asked, seriously annoyed, “Don’t they see me standing here? How do they know I’m not with you?”

“Word is out,” he replied. “You’re Tristan’s.”

His response caught her off guard. “How did that happen? We had two scenes together.”

“The Decadence grapevine is faster than fiber-optic cable.”

“It’s also wildly inaccurate.”

A dubious look crossed Axyl’s face, but he remained silent.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” she muttered.

Another sub walked up to them—to Axyl, actually. In her early thirties, at most, with dark-auburn hair, she was pretty, although nowhere near as pretty as Josie. She lowered her gaze respectfully and softly murmured, “Good evening, Master Axyl. If you’re looking for a play partner tonight, I’m available.”

“Thank you, Amber. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll be in subspace—waiting to see what you decide.”

She didn’t so much as look Piper’s way. “Are you sure these women are submissive?” she asked once Amber, with the fluttering fake lashes, moved on.

“I’m one of the few single club masters left. The competition for our time is often—”

“Vicious?” she supplied.

“I was going to say spirited.”

“You don’t mind if your sub is aggressive?”

“I’d call it assertive. Amber and a few of the others learned quickly, and sometimes the hard way, whose buttons they shouldn’t push. I’m not a 24/7 dom or into high protocol. Besides, here in the lounge, things are more relaxed.”

She watched as the enormous medieval doors shut behind the redhead. Axyl was such a good guy and seemed perfect for Josie, but it looked like a dead end for both of them.

“If you’re interested in Amber, can’t you clock out? You’ve been babysitting me since early this morning.”

“You’re in my care and stuck with me until I pass you off to my relief.”

“But I’m safe here, right? Doesn’t Rossi handle the security?”

“They do, but they have other priorities,” he stated firmly, closing the topic.

A dom came up to talk to him about an upcoming meeting with people she didn’t know. Piper looked around, waiting patiently for them to be finished. When someone else joined the conversation, which seemed like it would be lengthy, she pulled on his sleeve.

He leaned down so she could speak into his ear and over the band, which had returned from break. They were good, but really loud.

“Would it be all right if I got a drink and sat at that empty table?”

He eyed the booth in question. “Do not move from that spot,” he warned. “I want to always have an eye on you.”

Thinking at a club with top-notch security, it was a little overkill, she straightened and stated briskly, “Yes, sir, Master Axyl, sir.”

He arced a sandy brow at her. “Is Tristan aware you’re full of spit and vinegar?”

“He thinks I’m full of sugar and spice,” she replied sweetly. “Besides, why would he care? He’s my mentor and rigger, not my dom.”

“Right,” he drawled, extended his hand toward the still-unoccupied table, and then returned to his conversation.

A server arrived to take her order in minutes. She wasn’t much for beer or hard liquor and didn’t have the taste for wine tonight. The pretty blonde with a filigree collar around her neck, who introduced herself as Juliana, suggested the berry sangria, a house favorite.

When it arrived, in what seemed like a matter of seconds, she sipped it quietly while people-watching. She couldn’t believe how crowded it was, especially late on a work night. She also couldn’t believe how many people would get to see her naked in her first desensitization scene. Piper looked down at her black dress, the same one she’d worn to LBD night. She felt silly now for worrying about wearing it again since no one in the lounge seemed to notice, and it would end up on the playroom floor once Tristan arrived.

“Piper, may I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, the man slid onto the bench across from her. His voice was instantly recognizable, his face even more so.

“Hunter,” she exclaimed, taken aback. “I had no idea you were a member here. Josie never mentioned it.”

“She doesn’t know,” he replied with a grimace. “It might make holidays awkward.”

“I should think so. Especially if she joined.”

“Yeah. I dodged the bullet on that one.” His smile wavered then disappeared. “We need to talk.”

Oh no. Could he still be interested? Trying to prevent any confusion, she stumbled over her words. “Tristan and I, uh...well, we...have an agreement.”

“You’re together. I know. This isn’t about that.”

“You know?” she echoed.

“Everyone does.”

Everyone except her and Tristan, the parties involved, but her insistence seemed to be a waste of breath. “Is this about the show?”

“No. Josie told me about the stalker.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s been stressful.”

“That’s putting it mildly, isn’t it? The police questioned me about the break-in. I thought they were looking for neighbors who might have seen or heard something. But they came by again asking about my whereabouts on other days. It was then I realized... You thought it was me because I asked you out and recommended you for the role.”

“I don’t know who it is. The investigators were looking at everyone and still are. I’m sorry.”

“It’s me who’s sorry.”

“Why? You were cleared.”

“I made you uncomfortable, and that was never my intention.”

She reached for his hand but pulled hers back, thinking this might not be the time or place. “You did nothing wrong other than being friendly to a new neighbor. I was on edge and more than a little paranoid seeing the stalker in everyone and around every corner.”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve ordered increased security on the set.”

“I noticed this morning. My costars didn’t seem happy. With a bodyguard following me around, a few gave me dirty looks. I hope it’s not too inconvenient for everyone.”

“Your costars can suck it up. Keeping you safe is a priority.”

The air crackled with his authority—correction, his dominance—even more than when he reigned supreme on a sound stage. Suddenly, his club membership made perfect sense.

“I appreciate that, Hunter. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

Surprised by the unexpected nickname, she echoed, “Kid?”

“Josie mentioned that she’s two years older than you. I understand age gaps are common in Hollywood, but my limit is ten years. Twelve at the most.” He shuddered visibly. “My niece, who I used to babysit for, is older than you.”

Piper couldn’t help but smile. “Does that mean I can call you Uncle Hunter?”

“Not if you want to keep your job,” he warned. Then his eyes flew wide. “I wouldn’t fire you over a joke. I was teasing. I swear!”

“So was I,” she assured him. “I’ve got to admit, it’s an enormous relief knowing it isn’t you, especially since we work together and live within a stone’s throw of each other.” Screwing propriety, she reached for his hand anyway. “Still friends?”

“Always,” he replied, covering hers with his briefly. Then he excused himself. “I need to get going,” he said, already sliding out of the booth. “I’m, uh, meeting someone.”

Piper couldn’t tell if it was just an excuse to escape or if he was embarrassed because it was true. They were in a sex club, after all. She let it drop because it was still awkward even after clearing the air.

“Of course. Have a good night,” she called.

She could have sworn she saw him wipe sweat from his forehead as he hurried away.

Piper went back to people-watching. The lounge was an interesting place. She could tell there was a wide range of power exchanges amid the membership. Some couples sat and chatted like anyone would at a bar. Others were more formal, one submissive kneeling at her dom’s knees. She seemed content there; her dom’s hand—check that, probably her master’s hand—gently, and rather sweetly, stroked her hair.

A shadow fell across the table. She looked up into Tristan’s steely blue eyes.

“Have you been waiting long?”

“For a bit, but we got here early. I didn’t mind though. I’ve been taking it all in.”

“And partaking. How many is that?” he asked, nodding toward her empty glass.

“My first and last. I’m aware of the club limit and mine.”

“Smart girl. Are you ready?”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

When he held out his hand, she grabbed it. The adage “in for a penny, in for a pound,” which her grandmother Emory used to say, echoed in her mind. Then she scooted out of the booth.