She’d gotten to bed around midnight, but her mind had refused to shut down, obsessing over what Mr. Lord may or may not have seen. Naturally, her first reaction had been abject panic. No matter that he’d been there, too. She was the one who’d been on display, naked and cuffed to a cross.
Despite her chagrin, Jess couldn’t help but grin at the thought of proper Mr. Lord hanging out at a kinky sex club. Imagine the fodder for gossip she could provide for the girls at work if she dropped that morsel into the cauldron of frustrated office lust?
Not that she’d ever do such a thing. She’d steered well clear of the girly gossip about the enigmatic partner. Cameron Lord had attained almost cult status among the secretaries and other support staff. His nickname among the girls was Lord Hunk, and despite the conservative suits and reserved manner, his appeal couldn’t be denied.
Young compared to the other partners, handsome, elegant and aloof, his backstory was fodder for speculation among giggling girls in the breakroom. He wore no wedding ring, but there was always an elegant woman on his arm for corporate events, though, apparently, never the same one twice.
She’d once overheard the girls in the secretary pool comparing him to Richard Gere’s character in the old movie, Pretty Woman. “I’d be his Julia Roberts any day of the week,” she’d heard Brenda confide to her desk mate.
Jess had never entertained such dreams. She had zero interest in getting involved with someone at the office, no matter how sexy and mysterious he might be. Several of the other associates and even one of the managing partners had asked her out over the two years and change she’d been with the firm, and she’d always politely but firmly declined. That was one quagmire she had no intention of stepping into.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but admire Mr. Lord. He had a reputation as a whiz kid who’d climbed quickly up the ranks. Around forty, he took good care of himself, his body lean, his skin and eyes clear. He dressed impeccably in perfectly-tailored suits and elegant Italian loafers. He was nice to look at, there was no denying. He had dark, wavy hair and piercing gray eyes. A lot of women she knew would have killed for his thick fringe of dark lashes. His face was angular, his nose strong. Yet his mouth was surprisingly sensual, the lips full and soft. Though she’d never have admitted it aloud, she’d had the occasional fantasy of kissing those lips.
While she’d always found him very attractive—who didn’t—she’d never seriously considered him as potential dating material. Not only because he was a senior partner and possibly already in a relationship, but because, she’d assumed, he would be as vanilla as an ice cream cone.
To discover that he was in the scene—at least to the extent that he’d shown up at a BDSM club wearing the uniform, gear bag in tow—had thrown her for a complete loop. It had forced her to rethink everything she’d thought she knew about the man, and blown away her protective shield against his considerable physical charms in the process. Her mind naturally segued to an insane fantasy of being his submissive. Of giving herself, heart, body and soul, to Cameron Lord…
In bed, her hand had slipped between her legs as she imagined kneeling naked in front of him—not the staid, self-contained partner in his bespoke suits and elegant silk ties, but the Master in black leather, a cane and a coil of rope in his hand.
She must have passed out finally somewhere near dawn. She’d slept through her alarm, missed the express subway train and been forced to take the local that stopped at every station.
Now, setting her heavy briefcase on the desk of her small, windowless office, she removed her sneakers and replaced them with work pumps. More folders had been added to her inbox since she’d left the evening before. She had a pile of contracts to review. She needed to put the bizarre events of the night before out of her mind and focus on the day ahead.
But first, coffee.
She passed by the hallway that contained the partners’ elegant row of offices as she headed to the breakroom. Was Mr. Lord already in his office? Had he put two and two together last night? Did he plan to do anything about it?
Once back at her desk, coffee mug by her keyboard, she booted up her computer, more or less ready to face the day. Her edgy, nervous mood eventually calmed as she immersed herself in her work. She was just finishing the draft of a letter to opposing counsel outlining the firm’s final position when Brenda stuck her head around the door. Brenda, a forty-something redhead with a voluptuous figure and a sharp mind, was Jess’s favorite secretary in the pool shared by the associates.