Wanting Wilder (22 page)

Wilder growled, turned on his heel, and headed to the box that housed the speaker for the doorbell. He knew Everett would follow. The door closed, blocking the chilly draft. The weather had definitely edged more toward winter.

Too impatient to get a screwdriver, he tore the housing open and disconnected the wires with his bare hands.

Everett winced. “I see stupidity has set in. Wait. I knew that already.”

Wilder replaced the housing and led Everett to the living room, where he flopped down on his oversize black suede sofa. He didn’t bother arguing with Everett’s assertion. They didn’t often go for very long without seeing each other, especially after Ever had been away for almost a week checking out a couple of wish makers. He missed his brother as well.

Before too long, Everett flopped down on the other sofa. He handed over a cold beer. Wilder twisted off the cap and tossed it onto the sleek oak end table next to his sofa. They drank in silence for several seconds.

“Want to tell me what made you run off with your tail tucked between your legs and hide in your darkroom?”

If he admitted his folly, did that make it more real? “Just taking some time off.”

“Bullshit.” Leave it to Ever to call it like he saw it. “Something happened with Lydia. Spill, brother.”

The hardness of Ever’s tone caught Wilder’s attention. “Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking whether she’s more okay than you, I couldn’t answer that. She’s good at hiding her emotions, and I don’t know her well enough to pry. My educated guess and my gut feeling tell me you did some damage.” He sat up and took another sip, staring at Wilder intently.

Wilder looked away, peering at the seat of the sofa as if the upholstery were suddenly fascinating.

“She won’t talk about you or the time you spent together. She told Mom to mind her own business. Isla and the girls have tried talking to her, but she won’t say anything, and she wouldn’t go out with them last Friday. Pity. She’s a pretty good singer.”

He could imagine Lydia facing down his formidable mother. It would be a tense confrontation if one of them didn’t back down. Both were strong women. “Tell Mom to leave her alone.”

Ever picked at the corner of the label on his dark bottle. “Mom’s not callous or stupid. She’s pissed at you.”

She’d called several times. Wilder hadn’t returned anyone’s calls, but he’d listened to each and every message, hoping against hope to hear from Lydia. Of course, he had no idea whether she would castigate him or talk about work, completely ignoring everything that had happened between them.

Swallowing the bitterness in his throat, he grimaced and set his unfinished beer down on a coaster. “I violated her hard limits.”

Everett regarded him somberly, his green eyes glittering with confusion. “I’m sorry. I can’t see you doing that. Did she use her safe word?”

Wilder pushed to his feet. “No, she didn’t. But what choice did she really have?” He paced to the tall windows that showed a spectacular view of the valley below. If he used a telescope, he would be able to see inside Lydia’s living room windows. He hadn’t stooped that low. Yet.

“What does that mean? Of course she had a choice. If she wanted you to stop, she would have called a stop to it. Have you even tried to talk to her about this?”

Wilder shook his head. “Think about it from her perspective. She’s new here, knows nobody.”

Ever sputtered, interrupting with a loud thump that could have been his fist against the table. “She knows people. You helped her settle in, make friends, feel like part of the Oasis family. Micah picked you. Mom approved. They’re never wrong.”

Not usually. His mother had a sixth sense about people, and Micah was the best judge of character Wilder had ever met. Though he hadn’t wanted to take on a submissive, even temporarily, when Micah gave him this assignment, he’d accepted it without question. “I understand that. But did she understand that she had a choice? Maybe I’m not her boss, but I’m part owner. She knows that. I can’t assume she wanted me to push her limits when I know how much she’s invested in living and working here. What if she feared retribution on my part?”

Now his brother choked. Wilder turned to see Everett wiping his eyes, an incredulous expression on his face. “You think she was afraid to safe word because she thought you’d get her fired?”

Guilt and despair clutched at Wilder’s gut. “In her position, wouldn’t you be? I hurt her, Ever. I let her down. I betrayed her. Why should she have to go to work every day and face me?”

That fierce look had come back into Everett’s eyes, rendering them harder than emeralds. “You finally hit it off with a woman. You found one who likes to cook breakfast in the morning and let you tie her up in the evening. You bonded over mutual interests, and you genuinely enjoy her company. And then, rather than talk about what happened, you dumped her. I can’t say I’m impressed with you right now, Wild. But you’ve wallowed in self-pity for long enough. Get your ass to work this afternoon. You have a case to debrief. Nobody’s going to cover you anymore. Meeting’s at one.”

Wilder knew the case. Even though Lydia wasn’t on the team handling it, he couldn’t chance running into her. “It’s Friday. Give me the weekend. Move the meeting to Monday.”

“No can do, brother. The wish is set to begin tomorrow. This one needs to get done today, or there will be hell to pay. Don’t think Mom won’t fire your lazy, self-absorbed ass if you intentionally fuck up someone else’s wish.” With that, Everett set his unfinished beer down on the table, probably avoiding the coaster on purpose, and put his coat on. “You have two hours. Eat something so you’re not a grouchy son of a bitch, and take a shower because nobody should have to put up with the BO rolling off you.”

* * * *

Lydia filled her mug with gourmet vanilla and cinnamon coffee and headed toward Isla’s office. Though she hadn’t originally been slated to join Isla’s team, the two of them had hit it off so well that Macy Burke had made some changes. Now Lydia worked with the tiny Domme and Brock Turner, a handsome switch on the lookout for a woman who liked to take turns being in charge.

She sat down at the rectangular meeting table at the far end of Isla’s office and brought up the appropriate documents on her laptop. Being the first to arrive, she could take a few moments to make sure she was adequately prepared. Today’s fantasy had been subject to some last-minute changes that needed approval before either of the participants could move forward.

Micah came in next. He chose the seat directly across the table, throwing her an uncertain grin as he sat down. “How’s it going?”

She returned his smile and gave the required response to Wilder’s close friend. “Fine.” He had gone out of his way to be welcoming, and she had no reason to burn this bridge. After all, he was a nice guy as well as the head of human resources and a security specialist.

Isla and Brock came in and sat down. Brock had confided that he had once watched her bring a man twice her size to orgasm with the business end of a single tail and then force him to paint her toenails without using his hands.

“Let’s get started.” Isla didn’t waste time with pleasantries, especially since they’d all just had lunch together. “The background on this has been done already. Both parties are fully vetted.”

The door opened and closed. Lydia glanced up, and a startled gasp escaped her mouth.

“Wilder, so nice of you to join us.” Micah’s sarcasm could not be missed.

Wilder didn’t show any signs it affected him, though. His brows drew together as he stared at her. Was he angry or surprised to see her? Perhaps a little of both? He abandoned the expression for something neutral. “I didn’t get a chance to read the file again. What are the changes?”

He sat down, taking the only chair left, which put him at the far end of the table away from Lydia.

“Late and unprepared.” Micah smiled, a grim look that made Lydia shiver. “One wonders why you bothered to come to work.”

Whatever was going on between them, Lydia didn’t want to deal with it. She had enough heartache of her own when it came to Wilder. She answered his question. “Wish number five. The Dom won’t agree to all the sub’s terms.”

“Five?” Wilder frowned. “I thought this was case sixteen?”

“The teams reorganized,” Brock explained, his deep voice commanding and quiet at the same time. “And so did the case numbers.”

Wilder didn’t comment, but he did wave his hand toward Brock, inviting him to proceed. Fumes of anger simmered inside Lydia. She had been speaking, and he completely dismissed her role in this meeting.

Brock looked to Lydia expectantly.

She smiled in thanks. “The sub is an exhibitionist. She wants to be sold at a public auction and disciplined in front of a crowd.”

Wilder looked through an orange file folder. She had discovered the first week that he was one of the only people who used physical copies. He liked paper. He’d used an older camera and film to capture photographs of his knots. But then, he also read the paper each morning on his tablet.

“I don’t see that as a problem. It’s not a huge deviation. The Dom will still end up buying her. There was always supposed to be an audience. It’s actually a triple wish. Lots of exhibitionists this month.” He glanced up, fixing his gaze on Isla. “The Dom doesn’t want the auction?”

Isla smiled. “He’s okay with the auction as long as nobody lays a finger on her, even the auctioneer.”

Wilder’s gaze sidled to Lydia. A fierce light entered his eyes, darkening them to match a moonlit sky. “Sounds right. Most Doms won’t tolerate anyone touching their subs.”

She felt her cheeks growing warm under his perusal. Why was he looking at her like that? It wasn’t as if she’d let anyone touch her. He was the one who walked out on her both times. Swallowing, she regained her composure. “As part of the auction, she wants to be forced to orgasm, to drive up the asking price before the Dom purchases her.”

He seemed to chew on that for a while.

Brock cleared his throat. “She won’t budge on that condition? It seems to me she’s testing her eventual Dom, asking to be disciplined. She also changed her limits, and now she’s specified no violet wand or TENS unit even though she knows those are some of his favorite things. We matched them based partially on that preference, and she’s well aware of that. Those things had been on her list of top turn-ons before.”

“This is insane.” Wilder pushed the file away in disgust. “Why would she do something like that?”

Isla and Micah shook their heads, clearly at a loss for an explanation.

Lydia traced her fingertip along a scratch in the table. “Maybe she wants him to claim her. Publicly. Impose limits. Push others. What’s the point in having a Dom if he just rolls over and never questions anything? Subs don’t want to be in charge. I bet banning electric play is really a soft limit. I think we should go ahead and tell him to proceed as he wants. We already know he’ll respect her safe word.”

Wilder stared at her harder, his eyes darkening even more. “Hard limits are set to make sure that all play is safe and consensual. If a sub can’t trust her Dom to respect those limits, it doesn’t make for much of a relationship.”

A lightbulb went on in Lydia’s head. If she looked up, she would see it hovering there, mocking them both with cartoonish abandon. He’d dumped her and disappeared for nine days because he felt guilty about busting through her hard limits.

Lydia leaned back in her chair, relaxing for the first time in over a week. “If she doesn’t use her safe word, it’s because she doesn’t want him to stop.”

He pinched a pencil between his finger and thumb, lifting it only to let it drop against the table. His expression turned mulish. “Perhaps she’ll feel pressured to not use it even if she really, really wants to. A submissive needs to know she’s always in a position to call a halt, that there will be no retribution. Ever.”

“Neither one of them are new to the D/s lifestyle,” Micah said. He peered at Wilder expectantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Lydia tried to catch Wilder’s eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. She turned back to Micah. “I agree. He should go ahead and do what he originally planned. But I don’t think we should tell her we rejected her changes.”

Isla laughed. “Oh, honey, I’d love to have you under me for a scene or two. We can’t do that. I’ll prepare a statement letting her know we rejected her changes. Nobody but her Dom will be allowed to touch her. If she still objects to anything, we’ll instruct her to use her safe word or offer her the option of deferring her wish.”

“And inform him of her new limits.” Wilder shoved his papers back into his folder.

Lydia bristled. “Can’t we put something in there about renegotiation? That’s always an option, right?”

Brock bobbed his head up and down. “Sounds good. They have two days together following the event. Plenty of time to talk and discover new things about each other.”

Everyone agreed, and the meeting ended. Lydia tried to catch Wilder, but he lit out of there.

She went to her office to finish up a few things before ending the workweek and to hide for a little while. Within five minutes, Micah opened her door. He entered without an invitation, bringing Everett and Jude with him. The atmosphere became positively oppressive.

Jude closed the door. Micah and Everett settled into the chairs opposite her desk. Jude crossed the room to stand behind Everett. He’d trimmed his strawberry-blond goatee so that it was shorter and slimmer. She wondered if Sara still liked it.

Lydia didn’t mind the visit, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what any of them had to say. In the past week, each of them had been solicitous and kind, going out of their way to make sure she was all right. She’d been surprised all her new friends hadn’t suddenly abandoned her. After all, they’d been Wilder’s friends first.

She folded her hands on her desk. “So it’s safe to assume that everybody knows my business?”

Micah rubbed a hand through his short black hair. “When you have an intense discussion with your former Dom in front of three other people, there’s little to no chance it’ll stay private.”