Her brain was swimming. Four scenes. She knew from her research that meant he was going to do four BDSM activities with her, which may or may not include sex. She knew this was going to happen, and she felt her resolve settle in. She could do four. Putting a number on it seemed to make it more manageable. And one a week wouldn’t be bad. It’d give her time to prepare for the scene and to decompress after it was over before another would start. Plus, it’d give her time to maybe work in some visits outside the club and get him recorded, maybe stopping her from doing all of them anyway.
“So what scenes will we be doing, Master?” It was slowly getting easier to call him that. Still felt weird, though.
He smiled at her. “I normally don’t tell my subs the answer to that question, pet. The element of surprise plays a factor in building trust. But this is all new to you, and since this visit wasn’t prearranged, you do need to know what you’re getting into.” He watched her closely before continuing. “First, we’ll try spanking. It’ll give you a taste of pain and help me test your tolerance. Next we will do bondage, then whipping, and finally, fire play.”
Fire? Her mouth dropped. What the heck did he mean by fire?
“Uh-uh. I won’t go into it any more than that. I don’t want you focusing on the details while we are in the moment. Besides, we might not get to all of them if things don’t work out.”
“Work out?”
“Yes, pet. Depending on how you do one week will determine if we continue on to the next week.”
“So if I’m not ready then we will wait?” She frowned at him. Why wait? He wasn’t making sense.
“That’s not what I mean. If you don’t give me your absolute best while we are playing, then we will stop. We might stop during the scene, or we might finish it, but if I feel you aren’t trying, or you’re not as into it as you should be then our association will be over. I don’t dominate women just because I like to order you around. I do it because I thrive off the response I get. If I’m not getting what I need, I can’t give you what you need. It may seem mean to you, but that give and take is how it works. For me, anyway.”
So not only did she have these scenes to do, but they would be like tests in a way. If she didn’t pass, her opportunity to investigate him would stop. Period. She was taking a big risk for herself and for this case. Exposing herself like this could get them nowhere in the investigation, yet could totally change her on some level. She wondered again why she’d agreed to do this assignment, but then an even bigger question suddenly came to her, and she blurted it out before thinking better of it.
“Why are you agreeing to this? I mean, you don’t know me.” She knew why she’d sought him out, but she didn’t understand why he’d agreed to it so quickly. It was wrong to question him because, at any time, he could reject her and she’d have to report back the failure, but on some level, she needed to know his reasoning.
“Because, pet, you came right when I needed a new challenge.” He leaned in and gently brushed his lips across hers. Shelby gasped, and he retreated with a smile. “And I’m very much looking forward to it.”
Chapter Two
Mason stood inside his plush new office and grabbed his tablet off his custom walnut desk. The leather of his executive chair still had that new luxurious smell, one he would never tire of. When he’d been promoted to senior vice president of capital management a couple of weeks ago, he knew all his hard work over the years had finally paid off. Being in his mid-thirties, Mason was the youngest VP at the company, but he was also the only one who didn’t have a wife and children at home who demanded some of his time. He’d climbed each rung of the corporate ladder with eighty-hour workweeks, new clients, and the appropriate amount of ass-kissing—though he loathed to look at it that way. He knew when to stand strong and when to schmooze. It was the nature of the business. He didn’t make the rules, but he knew how to play by them.
Especially when they got him something he wanted.
He deserved to be where he was at today. He’d earned his position the blood-sweat-and-tears way, unlike his boss, who could only claim blood as his method. Not because he’d spilled any of his own. William Baxter was one of the founding members’ great-nephew. He’d coasted into his position simply because of what coursed through his veins. The man was senior executive director of private clients and managed the funds of some of the wealthiest people in the world—a position Mason would do anything to get.
He would probably never become the CEO of Fieldstein and Baxter since he hadn’t been born into the family like William, but Mason was content with his track to one day take over his new boss’s position. Even if that meant he’d have to ruin the man’s career in the process. It wasn’t personal. Mason would never indulge in something as weak as emotion in his career. It was business, plain and simple.
He took the elevator up to the floor where the executive staff primarily worked since he was scheduled to meet with his new direct boss in five minutes for a conference call with some brokers. He knew how to play the game—come too early and
