As Dane glanced at Trent across the room, the throbbing in Dane’s head gained momentum. Trent referred to the manager at Kinks, the bondage and submission club they owned. “Damn, he was the best we had so far. No one stepped out of line as long as Clyde was around,” Mac said.
Dane moved toward Trent’s desk and sat on the edge. “What happened?”
Trent pushed his fingers through his hair in agitation. “Hell, he always did say it wouldn’t be a permanent thing for him,” Trent explained. “He’s getting married and his fiancée wants him to concentrate full time on the landscaping business they’ve set up. Being our manager wasn’t really part of his five-year plan.”
Dane crossed his legs at the ankles. “I met the fiancée once. She’s such a damned prude, I’m surprised Clyde lasted this long.”
Trent’s eyes widened. “She came into Kinks?”
“No, she picked him up at the door one night; his car was in the shop. She took one look at me and went pale as a damn sheet.” His lips twitched. “I think it was my leather dom hood that did it.”
Mac laughed. “It’s wrong for us to find amusement in that.”
Dane laughed, though it felt hollow. The rest of his day would be shit because Lydia wasn’t there. He never quite understood his fascination with her, which was one reason he’d kept his distance. He didn’t like going into a relationship blind.
“Back to the problem at hand,” Trent insisted. “We need to replace Clyde. I asked him if he knew anyone he could recommend. Of course, he didn’t; that would’ve been too fucking easy. I thought maybe we could bump Ralph up. He’s been there the longest and knows the ropes. We put him on as manager and replace his spot on the floor. It’s bound to be easier to find someone to replace him, rather than taking the time to train someone new to take Clyde’s position, agreed?”
Dane and Mac both nodded. Dane was the first to speak. “Fine by me.”
Trent moved toward his office. “Done then. We can take care of it tonight.”
Dane suddenly felt exhausted. “Did either of you think it’d be this much work to run that damned club?”
Mac arched a brow at him. “Having second thoughts?”
Dane shrugged and sat back. They’d taken over the running of the club a little over a year ago, after the previous owner had found out he had cancer. They’d grown close to Leo, so when he confided in them that he wanted the club to go to someone he knew and trusted, someone who would take care of it, they’d stepped in and made it happen. The place now made them a hefty profit. It was never about the money though, not for any of them. It was their home away from home. The only place they could truly be free to explore the darker nature of their souls. The three of them had gone to college together. It had been there that they’d discovered they shared a common passion for the kinki
er side of sex. When the club had practically been dropped into their laps, it’d seemed perfect. But Dane hadn’t counted on how much work was involved. Trent liked having a club to run, Mac just plain enjoyed sex, but he’d been drawn to the dom role. Still, being a club dom was fast losing its appeal.
“I don’t know. I think I’m getting worn down from burning the candle at both ends.”
Trent moved toward Lydia’s chair and sat down. “I’ve been feeling the same way, but now that it’s turning a profit we can start thinking of hiring more help.”
Mac’s usual grin was replaced by a scowl. “That could be tricky as hell, considering what we do during the day. We have to protect our interests.”
“That’s why we have the employees sign a confidentiality agreement and it’s also why we never go out to the floor without our hoods.” Trent reminded him.
The members of the club thought they wore the hoods for effect; never allowing anyone to see their faces lent to the dark mystery. The truth wasn’t nearly as enticing. Dane knew the legal end was secure, but society didn’t always care about laws and regulations. In the end, the general population would still view the club as a place that catered to sexual deviants. “Can you imagine if someone found out we run a BDSM club? We’d be finished as lawyers.”
“It’s not illegal, Dane,” Trent growled. “You make it sound like we’re drug lords or pimps.”
“Our clients wouldn’t give a damn about legalities, Trent, and you know it. They’d find a new law firm quicker than any of us could blink.”
“You’re forgetting one important factor here, buddy,” Mac said, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes.
“What?”
“Some of our clients are also members at Kinks. They want their privacy protected just as much as we do.”
Dane nodded. “No shit. And they’re way more connected than we are. We give them a place to play in safety. They’ll damn near kill to keep that little privilege.”
“Besides, it’s not like anyone at Kinks is beyond reproach,” Trent said. “I’ve yet to see a single goody-goody come near the place.”
Trent’s words brought Dane back to his talk with Lydia that morning. “Speaking of goody-goody. I’m about fed up with Lydia’s constant refusal to call me by my first name. The woman’s been my paralegal for two years.”
“It’ll never happen,” Trent said, his voice resigned. “I don’t know why you even bother. Lydia is way too professional. In her mind it’s inappropriate. End of story.”
“Damn, can you imagine her coming into Kinks?”