He spoke quietly, just for me. “I’ll always respect those words, but you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything bad happen. You’re wearing my collar, Tara.”
It meant my safety, both physically and emotionally, were his responsibility tonight. I had surrendered to him. I gazed up at the chandelier, trying to drain back the tears in my eyes. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“I know you can. Everyone came for you. We’re all here for you.”
I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t help myself. I looked at Grant.
His attention had never left me. There could have been a million people standing between us. The room could have burst into flames, and he wouldn’t have flinched. Right now, only I existed.
He wore a classic blue suit and a bright white dress shirt. No tie. He looked amazing, but also like a fucking liar. He’d told me he’d do his best to make sure I wouldn’t hear from him again, unless I wanted that.
So, what the fuck was he doing here?
Then again, Joseph had said no one was allowed to talk. Grant’s eyes were filled with a thousand words, but he’d left them unspoken. Technically, he was keeping his promise.
I shifted back to Joseph, whose expression was pure persuasion. “Trust me,” he coaxed.
He’d never given me a reason not to. It was a ghost of a word. “Okay.”
“Good.” He kissed my forehead, right at my hairline, as he released me. It wasn’t sexual or romantic. It was a reward and helped to define our roles. He turned his attention to Grant. “Bring in the chairs and shut the door.”
I had my legs tucked beside me and my hands in my lap, worrying a cuticle on my thumb, as he disappeared into the hall for a moment and returned with two black folding chairs, one in each arm. He set them up side-by-side on the wall opposite the white wingback chair, then returned to the door and pulled it closed.
Trembles crawled along my legs, but I couldn’t tell if it was with trepidation or excitement. The closed door signified the start of the scene.
“Sit,” Joseph ordered Silas and Regan, motioning to the pair of chairs.
They complied, but neither looked comfortable. Regan’s back was straight, and she was literally on the edge of her seat. She wanted to be somewhere else. She hated this, and yet, she remained.
Everyone’s here for you.
Joseph took my hand and helped me down off the table, then nodded toward the series of drawers beneath it. “Two sets of handcuffs, please.”
Oh, God. I tightened with apprehension, making my hands clumsy as I opened the top drawer. I knew in my gut these restraints weren’t for the people sitting, and they definitely were not for Joseph. That left me and Grant. Was he going to handcuff us together and force intimacy on us?
I pulled out the metal ones, but Joseph shook his head. “The soft ones with the longer chain. In the back.”
He knew the contents of each drawer. It wasn’t his club anymore, but he still carefully curated each item in the room, per Julius’s request.
I found which ones Joseph wanted and placed them in his outstretched hand. I must have looked nervous, because amusement dashed through his eyes. “You think either of these are for you? You’d be wrong.” His head swung toward Grant. “You’ll sit there.”
He meant the white upholstered chair.
Grant didn’t hesitate. He strode to the chair that looked a throne in comparison to the others in the room, but I’d learned long ago, looks could be deceiving in Joseph’s scenes. If his sub was comfortable, he wasn’t pushing hard enough.
“This one,” he said as he gestured to Grant, “struggles with self-control, so we’re going to make it easier on him.” He passed back one set of the handcuffs to me. “One on the wrist, and one on the back chair leg.”
I was frozen in place while I watched it unfold. Grant didn’t look at Joseph as he pulled back his suit coat sleeve and offered his wrist. It was powerfully sexy, made more so because his piercing stare was locked on me. It announced he would do anything for me.
Including submitting to another man.
The muscles low in my belly tightened, creating a dull ache.
Once Joseph had the wrist cuff done, he took a knee beside the chair and fastened the other end around the foot of the chair. His sharp tone was a threat. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No, Sir.”
I went to the chair and bit down on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t know if I could touch him and not break apart. My body clamored for him, while my head demanded I stay far away. My heart was a battleground, and neither side could claim victory yet.