Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

As they were leaving, Alex watched MacKensie give Hope another hug. Much of the tension had left her body; she'd been bracing herself for the pain of losing her friends. He glanced at Peter. “Thank you. She needed an objective viewpoint.”

“My pleasure.” Peter smiled. “Not that I had a choice. I think Hope has adopted her. We still on for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes.” Alex nodded. “You'll be able to manage that as well as the party?”

“Oh yes.” Peter's eyes glinted with the look he had right before he did a closing argument to the jury. “I'm looking forward to a wonderful evening.”

Mac stopped in the center of the sidewalk, her feet refusing to move farther. Peter's house glimmered with light. As the sound of lilting music and a multitude of voices wafted out the open door, Mac just knew this was going to be a horrible evening.

Alex halted and looked down at her, but didn't speak. Just waited.

Mac took a breath of the cold night air. Okay. She had to do this. One more trial in an already-very-full day. She shook her head. Damn Alex anyway . Late in the afternoon, his friends had shown up at the house for “playtime,” and Alex, going into Dom mode, had forced Mac to explain her past. All of it.

Peter and Hope knew, of course, but Hope had a big heart. Apparently so did others.

“ Honestly ,” Tess had said. “ If someone held teenage fiascos against me, I'd be dead meat. Not many of us get through that age without screwing up royally at least once .”

And over the next couple of hours, each Dom had yanked her over his lap and swatted her a few times, telling her that if she needed to know she was cared for, they had the laps and the palms to help her out.

Her bottom still hurt. She glared at Alex, and as if he understood, he slid an arm around her waist, then down, until his hand rubbed her tender butt.

“Jerk,” she whispered.

“True.” He nuzzled her cheek. “But we all enjoyed it.”

She sighed and kissed him lightly. Painful as it had been, they'd actually made her feel cared for. Like in gym class when people lined up on sides… Only this time, she actually had someone standing on her side.

After the play session, Hope and Tess had chattered away, taking turns scolding Mac when she got teary-eyed over their continued friendship. They'd insisted on helping Mac dress for this party. Tess had pulled Mac's hair back into a low ponytail, and Hope had applied her makeup. As a result, she looked ten years younger, more like a college student than a professional.

I can do this . Mac gave herself a mental nod and started her legs moving again. I can do this . She repeated it all the way up to the door of Peter's brick home. She managed to let the doorman take her coat, although it felt as if she were relinquishing her armor. But she looked good, partly because of the unexpected addition to her wardrobe that had appeared in her closet earlier. The silky blue cocktail dress—true blue, Alex called it—flowed around her legs. The bodice, decorated with darker blue stones, was modest and subdued.

The first sight of the room full of people stopped her in her tracks, and she had to instruct her feet to move—gracefully, dammit—into the room. Beside her, Alex didn't speak, simply walked with her, his arm brushing against hers with every step.

She knew full well that he wanted to walk in front of her and slay the dragons for her. That he'd let her stand on her own as she'd asked was a gift to her. God, she loved him.

They moved into the center of the room. So many people, and she could feel the impact of their eyes. This is just a party . She'd been to parties before and even enjoyed herself. I can do this.

“Take a breath, little cat,” Alex murmured.

When she spotted the man, her stomach dropped to her toes. Why was he here? Surely Peter hadn't invited him. He wouldn't do that to her. She started to shrink like Saran Wrap in a fire.

Alex's fingers lifted her chin so she could meet his uncompromising blue eyes. “When our kitten screws up, does he dwell on it? Even if I scold him, what does he look like?”

This morning, the kitten had knocked over a bowl from the mantel. When Alex scolded him, Chef had given a haughty look and stalked away, tiny tail straight up in the air, indifference in every step.

“I call you 'little cat' for a reason, you know,” he murmured. “Even before I knew how well you land on your feet.”

Well. She felt her spine straighten and her chin come up. He was right. She'd turned her life around. She deserved respect, not scorn.

“That's it.”

And they continued forward.

As Alex greeted friends, Mac kept an eye on Dickerson. Her mouth dropped open when Peter and Hope strolled over to him, all chummy and smiling. After a minute, Peter turned and nodded at Alex, and then the traitorous lawyer actually winked at Mac before continuing his conversation with Dickerson.

Hand on the small of Mac's back, Alex guided her right up to Peter. He didn't even look at Dickerson. “Peter, I wanted to ask you—”

“Alex,” Peter interrupted. “Have you met Carl Dickerson? He recently joined your mother's list of vet volunteers.”

“Indeed.” Alex gave him an indifferent glance, not extending a hand. “Peter, I wanted to ask—”

Dickerson's face purpled at being ignored, and his glare descended on Mac. He obviously thought she'd caused trouble for him. “Nice to see you again, missy. Long way from the alleys, isn't it? How much are you charging these days?”

“Excuse me?” Peter said, lifting his eyebrows.

Dickerson snorted. “Oh, weren't you at the last party? The little lady here used to be a whore back in Des Moines. I think—”

“Really?” Peter interrupted. “How do you know her, then?” His voice had risen to match Dickerson's.

What was he doing? But the murmured “little cat” from Alex kept Mac in place, head high.

“How do you think?” Dickerson gave a filthy laugh. “Hell, she'd do anybody who offered the price. She—”

Victoria appeared on Mac's other side, her voice ice cold and carrying. “Have you ever noticed that men with inadequate equipment are incredibly loud?” She didn't—quite—sniff at Dickerson before looking at Mac. “My dear, how old were you and how long did you do this?”

Starting to get an idea of what was going on, Mac wet her lips. “Fifteen. For a year.” She tried, but her voice didn't come out very loud.

It didn't matter. Hope jumped in. Loudly. “Fifteen? Oh my God, you were just a baby.”

“Indeed.” The look Victoria gave Dickerson could have cut stone. “Please leave. I do not associate with men who prey on youngsters.”

Dickerson's mouth dropped open.

Then Alex attacked. “Might I add,” he said, and his voice didn't rise, but it carried, “if you ever speak disparagingly about my fiancée again, I will take you apart, physically, financially, and socially”—he cast his mother an amused look—“although the socially is probably superfluous at this point.”

Dickerson sputtered. “Did you just threaten me?”

“What? Do you lack ears as well as morals?” Victoria did sniff this time.

“Good job, Alex,” a man boomed from across the room. “Does she want to press charges?”

Startled, Mac glanced over. Wasn't that the police commissioner?

Bug-eyed, Dickerson stood frozen until Peter leaned forward and said quietly, “Leave. Now.” Dom voice.

No one seemed to notice his exit as the room broke out in a fresh buzz of conversation. Expecting to hear her past hashed to pieces, Mac heard people discussing their children and how difficult teenagers were to deal with, the need to clean up the streets and increase the services to the victims. The glances that came her way showed sympathy and even respect.