Her Sir Page 5

  He answered after four rings. “Are you stuck downstairs?”

  “And hello to you, too.” She cruised down the main drag. “I’m not there yet. Do I park in the lot?”

  “No, you need to come around to the Fourth Street entrance. It’ll say shipping,” Sir said. “That’s where you’ll meet Aldus.” He paused. “I’m sorry. How are you? You sound flustered.”

  “I am.” Flustered didn’t begin to describe her mood.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not used to coming to the Underground to have dinner.” She turned onto Champagne Avenue. “I thought you were pulling my leg.”

  “About dinner? Or my penthouse?”

  “Both.” She slowed at the blinking yellow lights, then turned into the alley behind the Underground. “Okay, I’m here. I’m pulling up to the gate. See you in a few, I hope.”

  “You will. Bye for now.” He hung up, and she faced the large man sitting in the gatehouse.

  “Hi.” Andi rolled her window down. “I’m here to see Sir—Dean.” Christ, she had to get used to his real name.

  The tattooed, bald man stood and swept his gaze over her. His twin brow piercings glinted in the light. The white button-down strained against his massive frame.

  “Are you Aldus?” she asked. “I’m Andi McCarron, here to see Dean Meyer. He should be calling or something.”

  “He did.” Aldus pressed a button, opening the gate. “Go to level three—the only parking level—and park in the lots assigned to penthouse number four. Everything is clearly marked.” His glaring expression didn’t change. “Good evening.”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “Do you smile?”

  “No. Mr. Meyer doesn’t often have visitors, and none have ever asked about me smiling.” His glare deepened. “You’re the first since Lucy to be permitted up to his penthouse. You’d be smart not to expect much or a second visit.” He ducked back into his cubicle and shut the little window.

  Okay… She started into the tunnel, and her mind raced. Lucy? She wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Sure, she’d assumed he had a life before her and one after, but she hadn’t expected to hear names. Jealousy curled through her mind. Damn it. She wanted to stay cool, but thinking about him with another woman rankled her. She followed the tunnel to the open area, marked level three as Aldus had mentioned, and noticed the spots labeled for each penthouse. A handful of cars were already parked. She noticed a beat-up pickup truck and motorcycle in Sir’s spots. He struck her as a bike aficionado, but she’d suspected he’d be a sports car guy—not a truck man. She parked next to the motorcycle, then paused. She wasn’t sure what to do. Head right in? Was there a code she’d need to input? She plucked her phone and purse from the seat, then her keys from the ignition. When she looked up, Sir stood beside the car.

  “Andi.”

  She exhaled and opened the car door. “Sir.” Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen him in anything besides his leathers and shitkicker boots—except when she’d run into him at the store, but she hadn’t paid much attention to his attire there. The faded concert t-shirt clung to his upper body like a second skin, and the jeans seemed custom made for him. Even the running shoes looked perfect with the outfit.

  “Andi?” He held out his hand. “Are you okay? You’re flushed.”

  “I’m fine.” She faced him. “I wasn’t sure where to go.” Or what to do.

  “With me.” He grasped her fingers. “What are you thinking?”

  She chuckled, then hit the button on her key fob to lock the vehicle. “You sound like we’re in a scene.” She walked with him to the elevator. “We’re not, right?”

  “Not unless you want to.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Yes, she wanted to do a scene with him. Her body, soul, and heart screamed for one, but her brain wanted her to slow down. “I’m good for now.” Liar.

  “How long has it been?” He pressed the button for the elevator. “Andi?”

  She wanted to pretend she had no idea what he meant, but she knew. “Too long.” Why did he have to understand her so well? They weren’t a couple, but he could read her. “How’d you guess?”

  “The tension in your shoulders and how you didn’t seem to smile.” He escorted her into the elevator. “All you had to do was ask me and we’d play.” He tapped the button and the doors closed. “I’m only one floor up, but the elevator is right here.”

  “Thanks.” Within seconds, the doors opened to a short corridor. Her stomach clenched as she noticed only four apartment doors. “Who else lives here?”

  “Right now, just Master Justin, Mistress Delana, and me. The fourth penthouse is empty.” He offered his arm. “Justin has his girl, Kel, and Delana is still searching for the right sub.”

  She wrapped her hand around his forearm. “And you have Lucy.” She regretted blurting the words the second she’d said them.

  “Aldus has been chatty.” He opened the penthouse door. “Funny. He rarely talks. You must’ve made an impression on him.”

  “He seemed to dislike me. He never stopped glaring.” She let go of him and shrugged out of her blazer. “I got the feeling he doesn’t like anyone.”

  “He doesn’t.” Dean took her jacket and hung it in the closet. “Welcome to my home.” He toed out of his running shoes, then opened his arms. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  She debated removing her shoes. He had, but was it him being more at ease or a house rule? She glanced around the space. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe a home that resembled more of a playroom or dungeon—but this wasn’t anything she’d had in mind. Never in her life had she seen so much glass and modern furniture. She was afraid to touch anything in case she broke it. “The carpet is white.” She met his gaze. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “You’ve got quite an eye for decorating.” She didn’t belong in such an opulent place. Most of her things had paint on them, leftover from a project she’d completed. She noticed a set of steps. “Is there a loft?”

  “The second floor is my bedroom.” He rounded the couch and sat on the arm of the chair. “I’m not a decorator. Justin insisted on having a friend come in and make each penthouse sparkle—his words. I didn’t care. I’d have rather movie posters and my ragtag style.” He shrugged. “But that’s Carter. He had a vision for each place. I didn’t let him touch my bedroom, though. That’s all mine.”

  “Carter?” She’d never be able to keep up with the various names. “Never mind. It’s not my business.”

  “Carter is Master Justin’s friend and married to Justin’s sister. He loves everything modern.” He nodded to the next room. “I never would’ve picked red for the dining room, but he did.”

  “I’m sure it’s good.” She clasped her hands together. Part of her wanted to ask, now what?

  “I’m making pasta and salad. I didn’t put the spaghetti in the water yet so it’d be fresh when you arrived.” He stood, then strode into the kitchen. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

  “I do.” She followed him, then paused in the doorway. She’d seen chef’s kitchens before. “There’s a lot of chrome in here.”

  “My choice.” He grinned. “The pasta won’t take long. Why don’t I get the salad? Would you like wine?”

  “I’m good with water.” She stopped him mid-stride. “Are you nervous?” He never asked this many questions when they met for scenes.

  He sighed. “A little.”

  “Because of me? Please. We’re friends. You don’t have to impress me.” But she’d gone to serious lengths to impress him.

  “I want to.”

  Thank you, God. “I appreciate it, but take a breath.” She let go of his hands. “Mind if I watch while you cook?” She wasn’t sure what else to do.

  “I’d like it if you did.” He grasped her by the waist and put her on the counter. “I actually like company in the kitchen.” He filled the pot with water, a dash of salt, and oil. “I’m guessing
you have a ton of questions.”

  “A few.”

  “Fire away.” He placed the pot on the stove and turned on the burner.

  Ask about Lucy. No, she couldn’t do that. “How’d you end up owning the club and building?”

  He rested his hip against the counter and folded his arms. “My grandfather saved more money than anyone knew about, and when he died, he divided it four ways. I inherited the money when I was fresh out of college. He stipulated we had to use the money for something that involved following our heart. I’d been working alongside Delana at another club south of Cleveland. Justin started out as a client of another Dom, and then we became friends. We were at the club late one night and talking about what we would do if we had our own club. That’s where the idea came from. Justin was a business major, so he runs that part—and has Kel. Delana oversees the store portion since she’s got a nose for what the market wants toy-wise. I’m in charge of the Doms. We bought the building and opened the club. Then to save some cash, we opted to live upstairs.” He put the pasta in the water and set a timer. “We’re all happy, so it works out.”

  “That’s great.” She admired his pluck.

  Sir stirred the pasta. “You did a great job of listening, but you’re dying to know about Lucy.” He half-smiled. “Aren’t you?”

  Her first impulse was to say no, but she knew better. “Yes, but it’s not my business.” But wanting to know was practically eating her alive.

  He continued to stir the spaghetti. “You mentioned that.”

  “Sir.” Why did he have to be so irritating and blasé with his answers? Because he knew he’d gotten under her skin, probably.

  “Dean.” He smiled. “Use my name. We’re not in a scene.”

  “I’m struggling with that.” She wasn’t sure she’d get used to calling him by his given name.”

  “Understood.” The timer beeped, and he turned the water off. “As for Lucy, she’s a tough topic.” He poured the pan of water and spaghetti into the colander in the sink. Steam billowed around him, then disappeared. “I’ll answer your questions, though.”

  “No, forget I mentioned her.” Saying so was against every last cell in her being. She respected his privacy. If asking questions was going to rip open scars, then she’d keep quiet.

  “And have the desire to know eating away at you all night? No.” He winked, then separated the pasta into two bowls. He removed her shoes. “Carry the bowls into the table and I’ll follow with the salad and sauce.”

  She slid off the counter and hesitated before doing as he’d asked. She took the pasta into the dining room and gasped. She’d never seen such a fabulous room. Blood red walls, white trim, a gigantic dark oak table in the middle and a silver framed mirror on the wall … she’d never seen the like and felt out of place. She wasn’t fancy. Did she even belong with him? Her heart wanted him, but her mind wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Five

  Andi placed the bowls on the table and sucked in a ragged breath to calm her queasy stomach. He’d figure out she wasn’t good enough for him. Trey had gotten into her head and fucked with her self-worth.

  “Hey.” Sir joined her. “Andi?”

  “Hi.” She darted around the table and sat opposite him. “Sorry.”

  “What are you thinking about?” He plated salad and pasta for her. “Are you nervous, too?”

  She trusted this man to bring her pleasure in the playroom and to know her limits. She could trust him with her demons. “I’m just stuck in my own head. My friend, Mary, told me to get a backbone. She told me Trey was horrible for me and I found my spine with you, but it took me too long with him. Part of me is worried I’m not good enough for you—even to be your friend. I can’t compete with this kind of opulence. I’m an artist. Half the time I’m covered in paint. But I’m trying to remind myself that I’m worthy.” She’d babbled.

  “You are.” He reached across the table for her. “Andi, the opulence isn’t really me. I’m happiest upstairs in my room. Ask Justin or Delana. They’ll tell you I’m much simpler than this all looks. We’re more alike than you think.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” She stabbed at the salad. She wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d quelled her fears for now.

  “So … Lucy. I met her in college.” He nodded once. “I was studying art, and at night I either waited tables or worked as a fetish model.”

  “Really?” She could see that. “What types?” She’d bet he was sexy as hell and in high demand.

  “Doms and anything that required a lot of leather.” He chuckled. “I was told I had a good presence. The photographers I worked with dressed me up like a Dom, so then I learned the role so I could better showcase it in the images. I liked what I was doing, so I kept it up and became a real Dom.”

  “And the tats?” God, she had a lot of questions.

  “I got the stars because I liked them.” He pushed the spaghetti around his plate. “As for Lucy, she was cool with the ink at first. She had her daddy’s money. Where I needed to go to class, she went when it suited her mood. I wanted my degree so I could do something with my life after college. She went for the social scene. We were entirely wrong for each other, but attached at the hip. She liked my dangerous streak, and I liked having her as my princess.”

  If he had a woman like Lucy, then he didn’t need Andi. “Is she away at a girls’ weekend?”

  “No.”

  She ate the rest of her salad in silence. If Lucy wasn’t there, then what the hell was going on?

  “She married a guy named Nathan and lives in New York.” He finished his spaghetti. “I think she’s got three kids, too.”

  “Huh?” She stared at him. She hadn’t seen those revelations coming.

  “She liked everything about me until she decided we should get married. That’s when it went to hell. She wanted me to clean myself up. I’d just graduated and found out about the money. That’s what motivated her. She thought maybe she could get in on that cash. She expected me to act like I had money. I’m not that kind of person,” Sir said.

  “And this place isn’t showing off your money?” She tensed. “Sorry. That was out of line.”

  “No, you’re right.” He put the fork down. “She didn’t like my being a Dom. For her, that made no sense. We were together, and I should fit into the mold she had for me. I couldn’t. I like my tattoos and piercings. I like the club. But she couldn’t understand that. She had whatever she wanted given to her. If I’d just lasered off the tattoos, let the piercings close, and wear a business suit, then she’d have what she wanted.”

  She understood, but she’d bet he’d look hot in a suit. “Did you love her?”

  “Yes.”

  Damn. He’d loved someone, but not her. She shouldn’t be hurt, but couldn’t help herself. She wanted to have his love. “You never got over her, did you?”

  “I did.”

  “Really?” She shook her head. “So, there’s someone else.” Made sense. He deserved to move on. Still, thinking of him with another woman rankled her.

  “No.”

  “Well, okay.” She didn’t understand, but she’d said enough. “Sorry. I pushed.” She hated being jealous.

  “I know what you want from me, but I’m not sure I can do it. If my past is more than you can handle, then I understand. We can be friends. That’s fine. If we go into the playroom, then that’s something separate. There have to be rules.” He sat back in his chair. “Can you handle that?”

  She wasn’t sure why he’d changed his demeanor so much. “She really hurt you, didn’t she?”

  “She shook my trust, yes,” Sir said.

  “That I understand.” After what she’d been through with Trey, she could identify with what Sir had gone through.

  “You do?” He nodded. “Trey.”

  “Yeah. Seeing him with Jenn and knowing everything I believed about him was a lie hurt me to my core, but it strengthened my resolve.” She left her chair around rounded the table to him. “I ac
hed when I left his apartment, but even more when I saw you with another sub. I realized I wasn’t nearly as attached to him as I thought.”

  “Trey loves to be the center of attention. I caught him with a girlfriend of mine, too. He pissed me off, but I survived, just like you.” He draped his arm around her waist. “You’re better without him.”

  “I am.” She allowed him to place her on his lap. Being so close to him fried her synapses. Christ, she’d never be able to think straight. “But things aren’t easy. I had a reporter stop me today. She showed up when I was about to leave for your place. Trey must’ve declared his candidacy for mayor, and the press is dredging up his past. Whoever is running against him wants to find dirt. I’m part of that dirt. That reporter wanted to know anything I could tell her.”

  “Dworkin’s running for election. Justin knows him better than I do, and from what I’ve heard, Dworkin wouldn’t run you through the wringer to keep Trey out of office.” He shook his head. “Dworkin seems to want to run an honest race.”

  “Maybe not, but Trey is slimy enough and angry that I dumped him. He sees it as betrayal. He’s out for blood and will do whatever he has to in order to get his way.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he planted the reporter to scare me. He thrives on control.”

  “And you’re in his crosshairs.” He growled but stroked her hair. “I don’t like it.”

  “Probably.” She froze as she realized the gravity of what she’d said and her situation. By being so close to her, she’d brought Sir into her problems. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved—even as friends—with me. If that’s bad or you don’t want to, I understand. I’ll go. He’s my headache, not yours. I get it, really.”

  “Stay.” He kept her on his lap.

  “Are you sure?” What if Trey aimed his anger at Sir next? Sure, Sir could handle it, but still.

  “Let him. I’ve got nothing to hide, and I’m not ashamed.” He met her gaze. “There’s nothing he can do to me that I can’t deal with.”