Lorelei James - Bound

“Will you be disappointed that your visitor isn’t Ronin?”

The way her stomach plummeted, the answer to that would be a resounding yes. “Then who is it?”

“Shihan Knox from the dojo. Do you want me to tell him you’re on a client call?”

“No. Send him back.” Amery barely had time to clear off a place for him to sit before all six feet four inches sauntered into the room.

He smiled at her before he closed the door.

“I usually leave my door open.”

“I figured you’d want it closed for this conversation.” He plopped in the chair and cocked his head. “Unless you already told your office mates what happened between you and Ronin Saturday night?”

“It’d be hard to tell them when I’m not exactly sure what happened myself.”

“I can guess exactly what happened.”

She frowned. “Ronin didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. In fact, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

That startled her.

“I’m betting you freaked out after Master Black broke out the ropes.”

Amery blushed.

“Did he show you his practice room?”

“That’s what he calls it?”

“What else would he call it?” Knox’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe the question is, what did you call it?”

She blushed harder, if possible when she admitted, “Nothing I care to repeat because I said it out of shock and fear.”

“Understood.” Knox leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Look, Amery, I don’t know you, but I’d like this to be an honest conversation, okay? Whatever you tell me won’t get back to Ronin. But I need to know where you’re at right now.”

“You think I should tell you before I tell the man himself?”

“Yes.”

“Why? So you can break it to him gently that I’m walking away? Bullshit. Ronin Black doesn’t sugarcoat anything, so I doubt he’d expect that in return from me or you.”

Knox grinned. “You’re right. Which is why I’m here.” His smile faded. “You really walking away from him?”

“If you had asked me Saturday night, I’d have said more like I was running away.” Amery twisted a section of hair. “But now? After I’ve calmed down and gotten some perspective from doing research, I don’t know.”

“At least that’s not a flat-out no.”

“If it was no, would you still try to sway me?”

He shook his head. “I have a proposition for you. Master Black is highly regarded for his rope skills. He’s considered a shibari and kinbaku rope master. He gives demonstrations at a local club, and I think it’d be beneficial for you—for both of you actually—to see him showcasing his rope-tying expertise.”

“What kind of club?”

“A private club. Some call it a sex club, but that’s a simplistic description.”

Her jaw dropped. “There’s a sex club in Denver?”

“Lady, there are a dozen different underground private sex clubs in Denver.”

“Oh. You can tell I don’t get out much.”

“It’s not like they’re advertised.”

The conversation she’d overheard between Ronin and Knox at the dojo, where Knox asked if Amery was the reason Ronin hadn’t shown up at the club, made more sense. “So you’re offering to take me to this sex club?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell Ronin if I decide to go?”

“Not sure. I’d hate to tell him you’ll be there and then you get cold feet and pull a no-show.”

Amery started to protest that she wouldn’t do that, but she couldn’t guarantee it. There was a huge chance she would chicken out.

“Ronin hasn’t said anything about what went down between you two. Not that I’m surprised; he’s the most private man I’ve ever met. I’ve worked for him for years and still only know parts of him.”

“That drives me crazy.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is and that’s the way he prefers it. What I do know of him I respect the hell out of, so it makes it easier to accept the walls he’s built around himself to maintain that privacy.”

No doubt Knox had Ronin’s number.

“The other reason I know something unpleasant happened is that Sensei has been a fucking taskmaster the past three days. His training regimen for advanced students is difficult, but he’s kicked it up a notch to brutal. And that’s with all his classes, not just the higher-ranking belts and the MMA trainees. He’s been equally brutal on himself—driving harder than usual during his workouts.”

She had a moment of relief that Ronin wasn’t unaffected by what’d happened between them.

Knox stood. “So think about it.” He handed her a business card. “Call me either way.”

“I will.”

“I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”

AFTER two restless days and two sleepless nights, Amery called Knox on Friday morning and agreed to go to the club. And she told him to make sure Ronin knew she’d be in attendance.

That decision made, she tackled the next one on her list.

She’d been vacillating about agreeing to work on Cherry Starr’s project, given the erotic subject matter. She didn’t want to alienate her existing clients, some of whom were religious organizations.

On the other hand, broadening her job opportunities made good financial sense, especially in this economy. Besides, she could call that branch of her design company something else. Like Hard-time Designs. Or Hard-up Designs. Or Hard-on Designs. She snickered at the last one, opened her e-mail, and started to type.

Cherry,

Again, thanks for your honest and informative response. I’m very interested in helping create a sexy cover for your book. If you want to send me the parameters for the image as well as what you envision for art and an approximate deadline, I’ll get started on it as soon as possible.

Thanks, A~

“WHAT does one wear to a bondage sex club?”

Knox looked up at Amery sharply. “Ronin didn’t instruct you on what to wear?”

“I haven’t heard from him. So I was surprised he told you to bring me to the penthouse first.” She paused. “Is that part of the scene? The rope master or whatever he’s called specifies clothing?”

He nodded. “Especially if you’re being displayed.”

Displayed. That word twisted the knots in her stomach tighter. Amery almost bailed on this adventure right then.

But she knew she had to go.

She wandered to the window. Twilight sent a pinkish orange glow across the Denver skyline. “What time are we supposed to be there?”

“In an hour.”

“Doesn’t exactly give me any time to shop.” Wasn’t as though Amery could call up Emmylou and ask to borrow fetish wear. Or Chaz either, for that matter, but if she had to lay odds on who owned leather and rubber clothing, she’d pick Chaz.

“I have a suggestion,” Knox said.

“Me going naked is not an option.”

Knox let loose a big booming laugh. “Ronin would have the head of anyone who saw you naked without his permission—including mine.”

Again she fought the urge to bristle at the word permission .

“I think the reason he wanted you here is that there are women’s club clothes in storage on the fifth floor.”

Amery asked, “Whose clothes?” even when she knew the answer.

“They belong to Ronin,” Knox said diplomatically. His gaze moved over her clinically. “You’re the right size.”

“So Ronin has a type?” she snapped. “Average-height strawberry blondes of Nordic descent with small breasts and pasty white skin?” And no backbone . “Is that what Naomi looks like?”

Knox stared at her as if she’d crossed a line.