Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

Dashing into the bedroom, she went into the closet—Jack’s closet. She pulled on knickers and a bra and put on a pair of jeans and a blouse, trainers on her feet. Grabbing her suitcase, she crammed the rest of her things hastily inside. In the bathroom, she swept her toiletries into their case and jammed it into the suitcase.

Jack might be back soon, and she had no desire—none whatsoever—to face the lying rat bastard wanker. She had no idea where she’d go, but she couldn’t stay in his flat—Annette’s flat—one second longer.

She lugged the case down the stairs, handbag over her shoulder, passport and ID carefully tucked inside. She retrieved her mobile, which she’d left in the guest bedroom, and shoved it into her bag.

She left the flat, not caring that she didn’t know the code to get back inside. She never wanted to see the fucking place again.

She waited impatiently at the lift, and then spied the door to the stairs. Suitcase clunking along behind her, she raced down the stairs to the bottom.

Benny and the doorman were sitting at a small card table in the lobby, playing checkers. Both men started to rise when they saw Cleo.

“I’m fine,” she said preemptively, waving a dismissive hand in their direction, too bent on her mission of escape to explain herself or even say goodbye.

She pushed open the door and flung herself outside. It was then she realized she was sobbing. Her heart had cleaved in two.

Chapter 25

Jack whistled a happy tune as he strode down the block toward his apartment building, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, his tie loosened. Though work had occupied him longer than he’d intended, he’d finally managed to get himself out of there before anyone else could corral him.

He bounced on the balls of his feet as he walked, understanding on a personal level what it meant when people said they were walking on air. He’d texted Cleo as he’d exited his office building, reminding her to be waiting on her knees for his imminent arrival.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced again at the text. Odd, it still showed as unread. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep, as he had kept her up rather late the night before, unable to keep his hands off the lovely girl in his bed.

No matter. If she wasn’t waiting as he’d instructed, he’d just have to punish her. He’d think of something edgy and sexy that would test her obedience and willingness to suffer for him. Just the thought hardened his cock.

As he got to the front door of the building, the doorman opened it with a flourish. “Welcome back, Mr. Hartford,” he said in his usual grave manner.

“Thanks, Ronald.”

As Jack entered the lobby, he noticed the little card table in the corner where Benny and Ronald sometimes played checkers together. The board was there, but no Benny. Probably his uncle had tapped him for some small task or other.

Jack was too full of happy energy to wait for the elevator. He rushed up the stairs, bursting out onto his floor and practically running down the hall to his door. He was acting like a teenage boy with his first crush, but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was see Cleo again, and take her into his arms.

He punched in the code and opened the door slowly, his heart beating with expectation. It had been so long—far too long—since a slave girl awaited his return, kneeling naked, and eager to serve him.

The foyer was empty, no Cleo in sight.

“Cleo?” he called.

No answer.

Setting down his briefcase and suit jacket, he walked through the empty sitting room, dining room and finally the kitchen. He noted with satisfaction that the place was spic-and-span.

But Cleo wasn’t there.

He took the stairs, calling her name again as he did. The place was silent as a tomb. He entered the bedroom, expecting to find her asleep on the bed, curled up like a submissive angel.

The room was empty.

“Cleo?” he called again, confused now, and increasingly concerned. Loosening his tie, he removed it and left it on the bed, intent on finding his girl.

She wasn’t in the bathroom, or the guest bedroom. It was then he noticed the playroom door was ajar.

“Huh,” he said aloud, furrowing his brow. While he’d planned to unlock it that very day, he was certain he hadn’t yet done so. As he got closer, he saw the key, still in the lock. What a naughty girl. Her infractions were growing by the minute. He would have to come up with a punishment with less focus on sexy, more on discipline.

He peered into the space, expecting to see her somewhere inside. But this room, too, was empty.

“Cleo,” he shouted, getting seriously worried now.

Where the hell was she?

He stood still a moment, gathering his thoughts. Had she simply stepped out for some reason and would return at any moment? Ronald hadn’t said anything about her leaving, but then, Ronald wasn’t in the habit of volunteering information. An excellent doorman, he never gossiped about other tenants, though he’d probably seen plenty to gossip about.