Liberated Heart (Windy City) Read online

  "Really? McAllister's firm? I've heard nothing but good things about them." Jerry sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his rounded belly.

  "I know you recommended them pretty highly. I don't think it's the firm, just the accountant we've been assigned. Seems a little wet behind the ears." His phone buzzed again against his chest. "After we know the real damage, we'll switch accountants either at that firm, or I'll bring our business here."

  "I thought two of your partners didn't want an accountant that had any ties to one of you?" Jerry pointed out with raised bushy eyebrows.

  "Alex Tribelli and I are going to be putting a bid in to buy the other two out. They are one of the issues with the books. A lot of personal expenses have been going through the business. I have a meeting with Jackson this afternoon to start drawing up the proposal."

  "You'll own half the club?" Jerry's eyes widened.

  "Yep." The phone buzzed in his blazer again. He wondered what Erin was reading at that moment. From what little information he'd gotten from her the night before, she’d planned on working from home today, giving her plenty of opportunity to browse the book.

  "Well, if the club’s doing as well as you say, and your distributions have shown it's a healthy company, it will only be better having fifty percent instead of twenty-five."

  Bradley's phone buzzed again, distracting him for a moment. "So, I'll get the ledgers all sent over to you?" He stood from his chair and extended his hand across the desk.

  Jerry followed suit. "Sure thing. I'll take a look and get back to you. How soon do you think you'll put in the bid?"

  "Probably not for another week or two. Alex and I need to iron out a few details first, and I'm sure Travis and John will take some time to think it over." Bradley turned back to Jerry, holding the door open.

  "Sounds good. I'll take a look at the ledgers as soon as they come in."

  "Okay. Thanks, Jerry." He gave a nod before closing the door behind him. Bradley made his way through the office toward the elevator without looking at his phone, though the anticipation of seeing her messages quickened his step.

  Seven messages.

  I've never done anal…so maybe.

  You are not putting vegetables up my bottom—no figging!

  How do you feel about sushi?

  Rope—yes.

  Breath play—not sure.

  What if you get mad at me? If I screw it all up?

  When you said rough, what did you mean?

  He couldn't help but smile at his phone. She had jumped right in. If she didn't live so far away, he'd surprise her for lunch, but since she was way out in the burbs, he'd have to settle for some paperwork before his meeting with Jackson.

  I love sushi. If you give me your best, I won't get mad.

  If you disobey, you'll be punished.

  You won't screw it all up. We'll always talk it through.

  Rough. Think of two safewords for tomorrow night. One for slow down, and one for stop.

  He couldn't remember the last time he sat down and had a full negotiation with a new sub. He hadn't taken on a newbie in years. The girls he played with at the club had been friends or long-term playmates. He knew what they liked, how hard he could go, how far he could push. Erin would be different. He'd have to slowly take her where wanted her. He wouldn't go easy. He didn't do easy, but he'd have to be patient. He meant what he’d said: he wouldn't ask for perfection, but he damn well expected obedience and effort.

  The club was quiet when he stepped into the lounge, though he hadn't expected anyone else to be there. Kerri would be in later in the afternoon to do her office work before the club started to swing into gear, so he was surprised to find Alex standing in the middle of the lounge looking around as if he were mentally measuring it.

  "Hey. What are you doing in?" Bradley pulled him from whatever mental image he had lost himself in.

  Alex turned with surprise in his eyes. "Oh. Hey." A dark shadow hung under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept. "I wanted to get a few things done. Did you see your accountant about doing the audit?"

  "Just came from there. I'll get the stuff over to him today. Should have something by end of next week, I think. Meeting with my attorney this afternoon." Bradley gave a nod toward the VIP rooms. "Most of the equipment has arrived from Dominant Galleria. Kendrick said the last cross and bench will be delivered today. He's going to stop by this evening to go over the security detail with the crew and staff for tomorrow night."

  "Good. Looks like it all came together." Alex slid his hands into his jean pockets and gave a forced smile.

  "Wait, it's Friday. Don't you all get together tonight?" Would Erin be there? Could he tag along? He wanted to ask but managed to keep his teenage psyche in his head.

  "Usually. No one can make it." He shrugged. "Well, Erin called it off again, and the other girls wanted to do some last-minute shopping or something."

  "Erin called off last week too, I think you mentioned." Bradley checked his phone, trying to look casual. She hadn't gotten back to him yet.

  "Yeah, it's been weird. We haven't seen her in like three weeks." Alex shook his head.

  "How did you meet her again?" Bradley was fishing.

  "College."

  "And she's the one who lives out in the suburbs. Quiet domestic life?"

  Alex's brows furrowed for a moment. "Well…sort of. Her and her fiancé have yet to set a date for their wedding. She's wound pretty tight. Maybe he's trying to get her to loosen up before he ties the knot."

  Bradley nodded, but his stomach twisted at the mention of her fiancé. The asshole who walked out on her, leaving her for some other woman. Alex didn't know that, though. None of them did. Erin had been dealing with the loss of her fiancé all by herself for weeks. Why not go to them? They seemed like such a tight-knit group.

  "Hmmm…maybe she's not ready?" Bradley offered.

  "Oh, she's ready." Alex's smile relaxed, became more natural. "Our little Erin is always prepared. Why so many questions?"

  "No reason. You all seem to have quite the friendship." Bradley looked at his phone again. Still nothing.

  "Yeah. You'd think with having three girls in my little group there'd be more drama." Alex pointed to the west end of the lounge. "Let's have the stage put there, close to the offices. The slaves can use our offices as dressing rooms, instead of the usual locker rooms."

  "Sure. That's a good idea." Bradley eyed Alex for a moment, tempted to tell him about Erin's appearance the night before. He should know. If she made her way to the auction on Saturday, he shouldn't be blindsided by that.

  "You know, I think I'll ask Jessica to give Erin a call. Now that I'm thinking about it, she hasn't been around or even talking to us much the past few weeks. It's not like her to hide like that. The girls may need to make a trip out to see her."

  "Do they usually swoop in like that?"

  "Well, Erin's different. Fragile." Alex looked at his watch and grimaced.

  "Fragile?" There was more bite in the word than Bradley had intended. Alex's gaze narrowed again. "Well, I want to get that ledger over to Jerry. I'll be in my office." Bradley slapped Alex on the back and headed to his office before he said something he would regret.

  Fragile. He hadn't seen a fragile, helpless woman sitting in front of him the night before. He saw a woman chasing what she wanted—a woman who risked vulnerability in order to find her desires. A fragile woman wouldn't do that. A fragile woman would not have had the strength to lean against his desk and allow him the pleasure of bringing her to such a strong orgasm.

  Finally, his phone buzzed.

  If I go, what time should I be there?

  He ran a hand over his smooth head.

  I expect you at nine. You'll be in the second round of auctions. Bring an overnight bag with clothes for the weekend.

  Presumptuous much?

  He smiled at the phone.

  Brats get spanked in bad ways. Nine. The bag is in case you say yes.

  Yes
to what?

  Tomorrow at nine. What else have you been reading?

  His demand for an overnight bag was done on impulse. He had a feeling—a strong feeling—after the short scene he planned for her in the club, he wouldn't be able to send her home. He'd want her longer. She wasn't going to get a quick rebound fuck. If she agreed—and she would—he'd be taking her home for the weekend. Fragile his ass.

  Chapter 6

  Erin walked through the back door into the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She tossed the newspaper she'd been reading on the back patio onto the counter and headed through the hall to the door. She wasn't expecting anyone, and really hoped Jessica and Kelly hadn't made the trek out to see her. She'd avoided all questions and comments from them pretty successfully over the past week.

  Without looking through the side window, she yanked open the door. Her heart stopped for a moment. Jonathan stood on the porch holding a bunch of cardboard boxes in his hands. She convinced her lungs to start taking in air again and pushed the screen door open for him. He had keys, he could have let himself in.

  "Hey, Erin." His expression was bland, his face paler than usual. "I thought it would be a good time to get some of my things." He nodded toward the boxes.

  "Good time for who?" she asked. Of course he needed his things, and did she really want to keep looking at his crap strewn throughout the house? She wasn't completely over him yet, but she had come to accept that she didn't want him back. Even if he groveled and told her how sorry he was, she would never trust him again. She couldn't. He hadn't simply cheated, he abandoned her. Without any effort to make things better, he just gave up.

  She walked back into the house, his footsteps following behind her.

  "You're alone, I hope," she said without looking over her shoulder at him. Coffee. She needed coffee…with a little something extra.

  "Yes. I haven't talked to any of the guys, have you?" He approached the subject of their mutual friends with some caution. They weren’t going to like how he’d ended their relationship, and she was pretty sure Jonathan was afraid of physical retaliation.

  "No. I've been busy." She tucked her hair behind her ears and searched the dishwasher for her coffee cup. Only the extra-large one would do. "You don't need my help, go ahead." She waved her hand at him. She needed him out of the room. Looking at him made her stomach queasy and her head ache.

  He nodded and moved to make his way up the stairs to their room—where they slept and made love. She let out a long breath. That was all over now. It wasn't going to come back.

  She'd spent the better part of the last two days studying the material Bradley had given her and looking up more information on the web. So many of the traits Jonathan disliked about her were the ones Dominants seemed to enjoy. The more she worked through the information, the more she began to think maybe spending a night with Bradley would be beneficial. If nothing else than to help her figure out what sort of Dominant she was looking for.

  "I'm going to hire some movers to come grab my office furniture. I'd like the television set in the bedroom if that's okay with you."

  Erin stared at him with a blank mind. Television? He wanted the TV?

  "Fine." She lifted her coffee mug to her lips. "Anything else you want?"

  He took a deep breath. "Erin, I know I hurt you."

  "I'm not talking about this with you." She shook her head. "Is there anything else you want besides the TV and your office furniture?"

  Jonathan took another deep breath. "We'll need to decide what to do with the house. I don't want it." He paused to look away. "I'm living in the city."

  "With your girlfriend." Erin nodded, trying not to let the information strangle her. Of course, he would move in with her. Where the hell else would he go? His family lived over an hour away and none of the guys would take him in once they knew what he'd done.

  "Yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "The house."

  "I'll have to think about it." She turned away from him, willing her eyes to fight back the tears.

  "Erin, I'm sorry."

  "I'd like it if you would finish up and go." She gripped the counter, letting the sharp edge of the Formica dig into her skin.

  A heavy sigh. "Okay. Think about the house." With that, he went back upstairs.

  She listened to him moving around for over an hour. The stranger roaming the halls, collecting his little memorabilia from the walls and shelves of their house. She overheard a phone conversation. It was with her. The other woman. His woman. He'd explained how long he'd be, everything was fine, and no, Erin wasn't giving him a hard time.

  She'd clenched her eyes shut. He said it like she was the one who'd behaved badly. Like it was her who lied for the last six months and broke his heart. Poor Jonathan. He had to see his ex-fiancé, had to face up to the reality of what he'd done.

  By the time he left, she welcomed the relief of his absence. Breathing became easier and the tears that started to fall were less about him and more about the fantasy she lost. There would be no picket fence future for her. She looked at the clock on the mantel in the family room. Seven. She had two hours to get dressed and get downtown.

  She may have lost the picket fence, but the new dream, the one standing in front of her, jarred her. Maybe she wasn't made of sugar and spice. Maybe she was made of leather and lace.

  The entrance to the club was crammed with people. Most of them stood in line outside, waiting for entrance, while a more diverse group formed to the left of the entrance. She joined that group and waited patiently.

  Her heels bit into her toes, but she welcomed the discomfort. It distracted her from the extra lively bundle of nerves destroying her insides. Her long trench coat covered her outfit, but also covered her from any breeze. Humid nights in Chicago were a norm, which only made her look a bit more out of place wearing the coat. She'd packed the overnight bag Bradley had told her to bring. She'd tried several times over the course of their texting to get a reason for the bag, but he refused to even acknowledge the question.

  The auction was one night only, and she didn't have to leave the club with him. But somewhere deep inside her, the place that held her darkest desires, hoped he wanted her to have the bag because they would leave the club together.

  It was her turn to check in. She gave her name in exchange for a security key to the elevator and rode up to the club silently with two other couples. Her nerves only intensified as she reached the top and the doors slid open.

  Crowds of people formed in the main lounge area. Another man with a clipboard approached them, asking if they were buyers or on auction. She was the only one who raised her hand to being on auction. He smiled and walked her over to the dressing room. She had to laugh at herself. She would have saved herself the heated cab ride from the train station if Bradley had mentioned a dressing room.

  Several women strutted through Bradley's office, helping each other with makeup. She watched one woman trying to get her backside tucked into a pair of leather panties and worried her own outfit wasn't up to expectations.

  She hadn't had time to shop after making her decision to give the auction, and Bradley, a try, so she had to go through old Halloween costumes. Two years ago, she'd dressed up as a French maid, trying to seduce Jonathan into some fun. A few minor adjustments to the costume and she managed to make something out of it for the auction.

  The bodice had been easy. She’d removed the white ruffled trim, leaving her with a black, corset-like top. Yanking off the mesh filler skirt under the bottoms hadn't been as easy. She ended up having to cut most of it out, but in the end, she felt good about it. Forgoing the stockings, she'd gone with high-heeled shoes. No kindergarten teacher look for her.

  Smoothing down her skirt, she nibbled on her lower lip. What if Bradley wasn't here? What if he didn't get to the auction stage in time to bid? What if someone else outbid him? She dug through her bag looking for her purse. She'd text him.

  "Erin!" Her name was called from the door. "Erin, you're up next
, hon." The man who had shown her the dressing room waved her over. Taking a deep breath, she walked to him. Everything from then on would be different. She knew it. She was taking steps not only toward a fun night with a really hot guy, but a new beginning. A new life. A new Erin.

  Several women smiled warmly at her as she walked past them toward the two steps leading up to the stage. Bright lights shone on the platform, making it difficult for her to see into the crowd. Her heart sped up with each step. Her hands were cold as she stepped under the heat of the lights.

  "Here we have slave number forty-seven." The auctioneer's voice filled the room. "Her first auction. Hard limits include: figging, fisting, and rape scenes." Erin moved to the spot on the stage marked for the auctioned slave to stand. She still couldn't see anyone and wondered if they’d done that on purpose, adding to the thrill.

  "Bra size thirty-four C and waist size thirty-two." Erin jerked her gaze over to the auctioneer. She had given that information on the registration form, but she hadn't thought it would be broadcast to the entire club. "We'll start the bidding at fifty dollars. Seventy-five to the man in front. Eighty over there. A hundred to the man in the back." Erin clenched and unclenched her fists while staring out into the room. Small paddles raised here and there, but she couldn't make out anything more than that. The auctioneer continued to call out numbers. The longer this went on, the more her stomach twisted.

  "Three thousand!" a man yelled out. Erin raised her hand to shield the lights, desperately trying to see the face belonging to the voice.

  "Three thousand and five," another bellowed.

  "Four."

  The paddles weren't flying anymore, only numbers.

  "She's a newbie! I want her. Five!" a man in the front called out.

  "Seven thousand," a new voice had boomed. Rumbling voices went through the crowd.

  "Seven thousand," the auctioneer stammered. "Do I hear eight? Going once, twice, sold to Mr. Bradley Sorenson. Our host and one of the owners of Top Floor!"