“You’re my beautiful Abby,” Sam whispered. He dropped a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “I’m proud to show you off.”
Abby smiled as the doors to the elevator opened. Despite everything she’d said to Sam about not being hungry, she had been watching her weight much more closely. She was married to two men who were five years younger than she was. Jack and Sam were prime specimens. There wasn’t an ounce of fat between them. It was hard for Abby to look in the mirror and really see what they saw in her. She remembered that moment when Jack had told her not to be so hard on herself. She knew he’d meant well, but it was such a turnaround from the way he’d handled her before. Before he’d come home from the hospital, if she had called herself fat, she would have found herself over his knee for insulting something Jack considered his.
When she thought about it, how much did she really know about Jack? She’d only known him for a month before she married him. What if this was the real Jack? And if it wasn’t, who could she blame for his withdrawal? Certainly not Sam. Jack and Sam had lived together in harmony for roughly seventeen years before they met her. Any way Abby considered it, she was the one who upset this particular apple cart.
What was she going to do if Jack was tired of her? Could she leave them both behind if Jack didn’t want her anymore? The thought of going back to a life without them was more than she wanted to contemplate.
Sam pulled her out of the elevator. “Stop worrying. This is our night, Abby. Don’t think about anything except relaxing and exploring. We can do anything we want to here, and no one will think less of us. They’ll just cheer us on.”
She squeezed his hand. The freedom The Club offered sounded enticing. “All right.” It would be nice not to think about the future for one night. She glanced around the room she found herself in. Her shoes sank into the thick carpet beneath her. The area was lit by a chandelier, and there was a small desk in the corner. A large man in a business suit sat at the desk with a computer in front of him. He was very still. Abby wondered briefly if he played solitaire while he waited for the elevator to open.
“I’m Samuel Fleetwood. My membership ID is 5772356.”
The big man’s fingers carefully punched in the numbers. “Good evening, Mr. Fleetwood. Welcome to The Club. Do you require anything? I must warn you all the private dining rooms are full.”
“No, thank you, we already ate,” Sam replied politely.
“Then please enjoy your evening.” The host gestured to the door.
Abby let herself be led toward the inauspicious little door. She looked all around, well aware she probably seemed like a tourist. “I guess I expected something a bit raunchier.”
“Abby, this is the lobby.” Sam stopped. “Are you sure you can handle this? This is really hardcore.”
Abby gave him her patented stare. He wasn’t buying it for once.
“Baby, just because you watch a whole lot of HBO doesn’t mean you’re ready for this,” Sam said not unkindly.
But there was no way she was turning back now. She wanted to see this place. She had lied to Julian earlier. If he’d kicked them out, she wouldn’t have pressed Sam to find another BDSM club. She was interested in this one for the simple fact that it had such an impact on the two men she loved. They had matured in this place. She had to see it for herself.
“You forget, I also read,” Abby said with a confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t help but think about Julian Lodge’s words. She would have walked in with Jack and not felt a moment’s worry. Sam, she knew, would defend her to the death, but no one would even question Jack.
“All right, let’s go.” Sam took her hand and led her out of the lobby.
Abby walked through the small door and entered a different world.
The elevator doors closed, and Jack felt his irritation rise. Was it so difficult to hit the open door button or put a hand out to stop it from closing? When he had a talk with the guy in the Platinum Suite, they would also cover a little thing called common courtesy.
Jack pressed the button, and after a few moments, got in the elevator. It was a short trip to the lobby. He tried Abby and Sam’s cells one more time. His prior understanding with them was rapidly dissolving into irritation. What were they thinking not answering their damn phones?
“Sam, you call me when you get this. Do you understand? I am damn tired of talking to your voice mail.” He shoved the phone into his pocket.
The elevator opened, and Jack walked into the lobby. Immediately the lobby manager was on his ass.
“Mr. Barnes.” The older gentleman was dressed, as were all of Julian’s people, impeccably. “Mr. Lodge is running the slightest bit late. Please join Mr. Slater in the waiting room. Can I get you a drink?”
“Scotch, neat.” Jack was not looking forward to his evening. There had always been a little curiosity in the back of his mind about his half-siblings. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the Senator had two sons and a daughter. The curiosity was completely idle. He didn’t need to know them. He had a family. He had Abby and Sam and Abby’s daughter, Lexi. Who knew what the future held? Maybe Abby would want another child. Maybe he could be a father.
A vision of Abby with a baby in her arms assaulted him.
He swallowed at the thought. He couldn’t handle a baby. He couldn’t handle a child. A child was small and fragile. Children died. They got hit by cars, and they fell a lot. And women still died giving birth, sometimes.
A sudden overwhelming panic hit him like a freight train. His peripheral vision started to fade.
“Mr. Barnes?”
Jack shook off the feeling and shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling. “I know the way. And make that Scotch a double.” Jack strode into the elegant waiting room where Slater was waiting. He had a glass of red wine before him on the table.
Jack didn’t like the officious campaign manager, but now he was a nice distraction from the dark thoughts in his brain.
“Good evening, Mr. Barnes.” Slater didn’t stand, merely inclined his head politely.
Jack nodded and took a seat across from him.
“I wonder what could be keeping Mr. Lodge,” Slater murmured. “You don’t think he’s down in that club of his?”
Jack huffed, completely unsurprised that the unctuous weasel had no idea who Julian Lodge was beyond being a man who ran a sex club. “He’s probably dealing with investors. I know they used to keep him on his toes.”
“People invest in sex clubs?”
“Yes, actually.” Jack didn’t bother to mention that he’d invested in several on Julian’s advice. They were turning a nice profit. “They also invest in real estate, stocks, and new businesses. Julian Lodge runs a group of investors that finds small companies with good ideas and gives them a bankroll to become big companies. Have you ever heard of the Masters Fund?”
Slater’s eyes grew round. He took a careful sip of his wine and then placed it back down. “Of course I have. So Julian Lodge is one of the investors in the Masters Fund?”
“No, I’m an investor. Julian runs the fund. Masters is simply an inside joke.” He called it that because the entire group was made up of rich Doms and Dommes from his club. Jack smiled slightly as he remembered Katherine Johannsen’s protests that Mistress should be in there, too. The Domme always brought it up at board meetings, but she hadn’t gotten Julian to budge yet.
“That is very impressive,” Slater noted. Jack could see him calculating the best way to use the information.
A waiter brought in Jack’s double and quietly retreated. Jack took a thoughtful sip. The Scotch was rich and flavorful. It was smooth. He made a mental note to ask Julian what brand this was. He decided to change the topic. Julian wouldn’t like the Senator knowing too much about his business. “Why is Lucas doing this?”