Now Cory was her boss, and his father was in Europe. Talk about an occupational nightmare.
Yesterday, when Mrs. Fitzhugh had taken lunch, Cory'd sneaked up behind Rainie and groped her. Her outraged shove had caught him by surprise-and he'd fallen over a chair.
Rainie smiled slightly. She might surrender to a Dom she liked, but when it came to physically protecting herself from slimeballs? She didn't have a single submissive cell in her body. As she finished her tidying, she caught Cory staring at her.
"Were you looking for a particular file?" she asked. Her desk contained all her current projects. And she had a lot. She'd put her MBA coursework to work by taking on the business's payroll, scheduling, and advertising. Last month, she'd started on the arcane arena of insurance. God, she loved juggling the multitude of tasks, and Bart'd been delighted to designate her the "office manager" and hand over the reins.
Unfortunately, now Cory ran the company.
Face flushed, Cory stopped beside her desk, crowding her. When a file drawer slammed louder than the thunder outside, he realized Mrs. Fitzhugh was watching. He took a step back. "I'll do the trucker's schedules this month."
Hopefully he wouldn't screw it up too badly. Rainie gave him a polite smile. "How nice." With his history, he'd be bored with the company even before she quit. Be patient.
"Here are the requests for days off." She handed him the correct folder and couldn't resist adding, "The schedule is due up on Monday."
Cory made a noise like a mouse flattened by a golf cart-lovely sound. But then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You might consider being friendlier … assuming you want to keep this job."
"I don't need to be friendlier to manage the taxes, the advertising, the software, or the payroll," she assured him in a kind voice. "And since the truckers get irritable if not paid on time, I'd better start."
His gaze swept over her and lingered on her breasts.
With the soaking she'd gotten, her shirt was almost translucent. The perverted prick. Turning away, she buttoned up her suit coat, then pulled up the payroll on her monitor. Finally … he moved away.
She breathed out. God, how long could she put up with him? But he wouldn't do anything. After all, he couldn't run the place without her.
And she couldn't leave. Rent was due. Her savings were gone. She needed the job.
Chapter Two
Aching with misery, Jake entered the main room of the still quiet Shadowlands BDSM club. As the mansion's air-conditioning struggled against the evening heat, the humidity added to his weariness.
Pretty sad to be decades older than a two-year-old and to be craving a nap. But because of the clinic's messed-up schedule, he'd put in twelve-hour days the entire week. And his last furry patient today had been … bad.
At the long, oval bar in the room's center, Cullen and his submissive, Andrea, were concocting pitchers of drinks.
Jake eyed the water condensing on the outside of the crystal glass. The way he felt, a drink would be more satisfying than a scene. He slid onto a barstool. "You're adding vodka to an energy drink?"
"A special for tonight's glow party theme." Cullen grinned. "The liquid shines under the black lights." He patted the white T-shirt covering his massive chest. "And so will this. People need to be able to find the bartender."
"Hate to say this, but no one'll notice you with your gorgeous submissive around," Jake noted.
Andrea wore a cut-off, white shirt that barely covered her full breasts. Her boy briefs curved delightfully over her round ass.
"This is true," Cullen said in open agreement. "She is gorgeous, isn't she?"
At her Master's ready compliment, Andrea's face brightened as if a ray of sunlight had caught it.
"So, buddy, Z wondered where you were." Cullen put a few drops of blue food coloring into one pitcher. "You missed the Masters' briefing."
"I had an emergency surgery." Jake's gut tightened. "A puppy chased a cat onto the highway. The driver of the car tried to stop. Cat got across okay. Dog didn't."
Andrea turned, a stricken look on her face. "Is the puppy all right?"
"His hind leg is fractured, and he has internal injuries." Jake sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "He might recover." Or not. The wife had been in tears, and her husband pretty damn close.
"At least the dog had you to take care of him." Andrea patted his hand.
Jake straightened, uncomfortable with her sympathy. A Dom should comfort submissives, not the other way around.
Obviously, his exhaustion had turned him into a wimp, or so his BDSM mentor would have said. Even in his sixties, the Marine Gunnery Sergeant had never admitted to tiredness … let alone depression over an injured pet.
Andrea put a bottle of water in front of him. "If you were in surgery, you probably didn't get supper, did you?" An experienced submissive, she read the answer from his expression. "I thought not."
She glanced at her Master and got a nod before heading for the munchie corner.
With an effort, Jake suppressed a surge of loneliness. Last year, he and Heather had been close enough to communicate without speaking. But when she'd dumped him for her career, he'd wondered if they'd truly communicated at all. She'd left so quickly that sometimes he felt as if he could still hear the door swing shut behind her.
Well, lesson learned. He'd be more careful next time.
"What was in the briefing?" he asked Cullen.
"The black lights stay on all night, and Z suggests light scenes. The theme rooms have normal lighting for those playing harder. He has some special floggers and paddles, too."
"What's special about them?"
Cullen snorted as he mixed tonic water with juice. "Sprayed with neon paint. Should make for interesting scenes." He pointed to the white-linen-covered tables. "Also, there are glow paints. Submissives are to be decorated by Doms-can't do it themselves. The trainees are wearing black underwear or the equivalent."
Submissive painting. Glowing floggers. "Sounds like fun."
"Could be. Trouble is, we're short on Masters tonight. Dan's vacationing with Kari and the baby. Marcus is stuck at the courthouse, waiting on a jury verdict. Raoul is flying back tonight from a construction job in Panama." Cullen swiped up the few drops he'd spilled.
"Need an extra dungeon monitor?" He wasn't scheduled, but he could handle it. He'd just shift gears from his expectation of a lazy evening to an active one.
"Yep." Cullen thumped a gold-trimmed black leather monitor vest on top of the bar. "If you can cover the main room for an hour now and then again at midnight, I'd appreciate it. There's no Trainee Master tonight, so we're all watching out for them."
"Got it." With only three trainees left, keeping an eye on them wasn't a problem.
When Z had set up the program for submissives needing increased immersion in the lifestyle, most of the Shadowlands Masters and Mistresses were single. Now, since only Mistress Anne, Jake, and Holt were unattached, the program was ending once the last trainee found a Dom. "Was there anything Z required them to work on?"
"Nope. Tonight is for fun and light play. They're even to do their own scene negotiations. Good practice for them, actually."
Jake pulled on the vest, amusement lightening his mood. "But since Z's a mother hen, he asked us to check on them anyway."
"Bingo."
"Here, Master Jake." Andrea placed a small plate piled with finger foods in front of him. "This should keep your furnace stoked for a while."
Cullen is one lucky Dom. "Thank you, sweetheart."
The sincerity of his gratitude made her smile.
He popped a mini-quiche into his mouth and considered his next bite.
"Master Cullen, I'm here." The liltingly melodic voice came from beside him.
Jake glanced down to see Rainie at his shoulder, one beautifully curvy woman, about five-seven. Not too short, not too tall.
Unlike earlier in the week when she'd brought in the injured dog, she wasn't dressed conservatively. In leather wrist cuffs, a black halter bra, and barely-there, black skirt, she was an explosion of light and color and softness, from her shoulder-length, brown hair streaked with bright gold and red, to the fountain-and-blossom tattoos that flowed upward beside her spine, over one shoulder, and down between her magnificent breasts.
Cullen poured a glass of juice and handed it to her. "Good to see you, sweetheart. Did you bring in cookies for the munchie corner?"
"Already there, Sir. I used Kari's recipe, in fact."
"Perfect. The caterers are good, but their sweets never taste like homemade."
"Hello, Rainie," Jake said, watching her closely. Considering she'd brought him her dog, would she still avoid him?
"Master Jake." She took a step away from him, then her gaze fell on the plate in front of him. She frowned. "I didn't think you liked crab cakes."