“She never said anything.”
“All new subs have someone assigned to help them negotiate scenes. You’ve been here how long now? How do you not fucking know that?”
His face kept getting redder and redder. “Only the club Doms negotiate scenes. You’re not a club Dom.”
“Betsy was a special favor to Angus. You feeling all right, man? Your face is a bit red. Maybe you should get your blood pressure checked. And your cholesterol. There’s no shame in it.”
“You fucking prick,” Jeffries spat out, making Betsy jolt.
“Betsy, come over here,” Ink said firmly. “Next to me, please.”
She shuffled over towards him immediately, making Jeffries’ eyes narrow until they were slits. “She wants to scene with me. Why don’t you let her speak for herself?”
Oh, so now he wanted her to speak?
He softened slightly as he stared down at her. She was shaking, her head low. “Betsy? Look at me.”
She raised her gaze. Her eyes were wide and they flicked from him to Jeffries then back to him.
“Would you like me to negotiate a scene for you with Master Dean?”
Do not say yes. Do not.
He’d do it if it was what she wanted. But he’d watch that scene closely. There was a beat of silence and he worried she would say yes. That she might feel like she had to.
Shit. He should have taken her somewhere more private to ask her. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. “Little girl, just tell the truth.”
Her eyes widened as he moved back. He wondered if she’d protest him calling her Little girl. Or if she’d realized something about herself last weekend. Something he’d been thinking over all week.
Her shoulders went back.
“I don’t want to scene with him.”
“Sir,” he muttered, elation filling him.
Calm.
She’s your charge. Not your sub.
“Pardon me?” she asked with a slight frown. Oh so polite. He wondered what it would take to crack that glass encasing her.
“I don’t want to scene with him, Sir,” he told her. All right, maybe it was less about teaching her and more about rubbing it in to Jeffries that she didn’t want him.
He’d never claimed to be a good guy. Or a particularly nice guy. But he wasn’t like Jeffries. He didn’t bully women. And he wasn’t getting his hands on Betsy. That fucking made Ink’s day.
“You’re an asshole, Callahan,” Jeffries spat out. “One day you’ll get yours.”
Ink crossed his arms over his chest, a smile threatening. “That so?”
Jeffries stepped forward, getting right in his face. “I should wipe that fucking smirk off your face.”
Ink wiped his hand over his face. “Are you planning on doing it with your breath? Because if so, mission accomplished, man.”
“What?” Jeffries looked confused.
“I’d offer you a breath mint, but I seem to have run out. You got any, babe?” he asked Betsy. “Ahh, no, I can see you don’t have any pockets. Sorry, Jeffries. But hey, job well done, my grin is totally gone.”
“Fuck. You.”