Shayla Black: Theirs to Cherish

“Certainly, you’ve noticed that Callie has . . . let’s call it a strong will.”

Sean snorted. “Stubborn as a mule, that one.”

Thorpe tried not to smile. “Precisely. Given that obvious fact, for my conversation to have any effect on her, I need to have a full array of options available.”

“You’re asking my permission to discipline her?” The other man raised a dark brow.

“No, I’m not asking permission. I’m telling you I’ll need to keep that as a possibility.” He shrugged with mock regret. “Might as well be honest. With Callie, it’s a probability.”

And Thorpe wasn’t lying to himself. He would thoroughly enjoy it. Anytime he got to touch the girl was a sublime thrill.

“I don’t like it and I don’t trust you.” Sean crossed his arms over his chest in challenge.

“Let’s cut to the chase. You don’t like me. Likewise,” he said bluntly. “But we’re both motivated by Callie and her well-being. So let’s stay on task, shall we? You want to know if she’s planning to leave. I want to ensure that she’s in a good mental and emotional place before I allow her to scene with you again. These don’t have to be mutually incompatible goals. Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll give you answers.”

Everything about Sean’s body language said that he used all his restraint not to throw a punch. Pity. Knocking the asshole into next week would significantly improve Thorpe’s mood. The man knew the feel of Callie’s body intimately. He’d had the opportunity to experience her surrender. He’d had the luxury of telling the beautiful girl how he felt.

So yes, Thorpe felt every bit of his jealousy.

“I don’t like being backed in a corner, but you haven’t given me much choice. If you don’t have answers in fifteen minutes, you give her back to me. I’ll soothe her and set her right.”

Thorpe headed for the door. “Mr. Kirkpatrick, the first rule of negotiation is that you must have some bargaining power. At the moment, you don’t. Wait for my return.”

He didn’t let the Scot get a word in before he strode out of his office and grabbed his phone from his pocket. His first text was to Axel, probably holed up in the security booth with a few of his compadres. He told the other Dom to get to his office ASAP and that he was free to fuck with Sean’s head if he could get any answers about why the Scot had come to Dominion.

After an enthusiastic yes in reply, he tapped a message to Zeb asking what Callie was doing. The reply came quickly. Sounds like she’s in the shower.

Bullshit. Thorpe knew Callie’s habits well. She’d showered just before Sean’s arrival. She wouldn’t want to undo all that makeup when there was a chance she might see the man again. If there was one thing Callie didn’t allow, it was for anyone to see her with a bare face.

Find out if she’s packing a suitcase, he replied. The door will be locked. Do what you have to do.

This time, the pause seemed to last forever. While he waited, Thorpe grabbed a few things he might need from around the dungeon to make his point with Callie and slipped them into his pocket. Then he let his long legs eat up the distance between the main part of the club and Callie’s room. Just before he reached her door, Zeb’s answer came. Picked the lock. She’s shoved most of her bathroom and closet into two bags.

“Son of a bitch,” Thorpe cursed roundly. Sean had scared the hell out of her. He wished now that he had punched the asshole.

I’ll take it from here, he texted back, then pocketed his phone again.

The door to Callie’s room opened, and Zeb stepped out. With a passing nod, Thorpe greeted him, then strode inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He shoved her desk chair against it for good measure.

The air was humid from her recent “shower.” She’d flung on every light. Her two hastily packed bags sat in the corner near the door.

Callie paced in her little red robe, her manic gait taking her from one side of the room to the other. Goddamn it, she wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d bet she hadn’t bothered with panties, either.

Most notably, she’d stripped off her collar and was clutching it in a tight grasp. His heart stuttered. Was she removing it for good?

As Thorpe cleared his throat, he tamped down encroaching relief and told himself to take things one step at a time.

She turned to spear him with a resolute stare. “You said you wanted to know when I’m leaving. It’s now. I quit.”

CALLIE stared at Thorpe. He had almost no reaction to her words. Gee, it would have been nice if you’d given a shit. Then she squashed the thought. It wasn’t his fault that she cared far more about him than he did for her. She’d known for years that Thorpe had the power to yank her heart out of her chest and crush it beneath his very expensive Salvatore Ferragamo loafers. It sucked that she’d been stupid enough to let him.

Even though she cared deeply for Sean and—if she could believe his passionate declaration—he loved her, that didn’t mitigate her attachment to Dominion’s owner. She’d always been a little screwed up. This just proved it.

Thorpe wandered farther into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I appreciate the notice, but I need a bit longer than ten minutes to replace you, pet.”

“Sorry.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared out the dark window. He was far too beautiful to look at. “You’ll find someone else soon. You won’t miss me.”

“You have no idea how I’ll feel. Sit down, Callie.”

His tone told her that no wasn’t an acceptable answer. Damn it, he intended to interrogate her about Sean. Callie couldn’t take it now. Leaving them both was hard enough . . .

She fought down panic and turned back to him. “I can’t. I have to get away.”

“Not yet.” He pointed to a spot on the bed right beside him and didn’t say a word until she flopped down. “Good. Sean knows I’ve come and that I intend to understand what happened tonight. Tell me everything.”

If Thorpe was here with Sean’s blessing, she wasn’t going to worm out of this conversation, damn it.

As she set Sean’s collar down on her nightstand, Callie mentally sorted through everything she could tell him. He must know that she had feelings for her Sir. More feelings than she was comfortable with. Thorpe missed very little, so he was no doubt aware that Sean had never taken her past her limits, ignored her safe word, or acted in any way out of line. Besides, if she was going to skip out on Thorpe after he’d kept a roof over her and ensured her safety for four years, she owed him more than a flat-out lie.

Wringing her hands, she forced herself to meet his intent gray gaze and confessed something else that had been niggling in the back of her brain. “Something is . . . off about him.”

That clearly piqued Thorpe’s interest. “In what way?”

Callie tapped her toes. She had to express her concerns about Sean without giving her past away. Putting Thorpe in the terrible position of harboring a known fugitive wasn’t how she wanted to repay his kindness.

“He asks a lot of questions. I don’t like them.”

Thorpe sent her a wry smile. “If it’s about your limits, that’s to be expected. Pet, he’s a Dom. It’s his job to get in your head. Frankly, you need some untangling. You might find it uncomfortable—”

“He doesn’t need to know how many brothers and sisters I have, the name of my first pet, if I ever took special trips as a child . . . He seems really focused on things that shouldn’t matter if all he wants is a sub in a club.”

It was nothing Thorpe did or any change in his expression, but Callie had the distinct impression that he was enraged. “Has he always behaved this way with you?”