“They asked if I was continuing my relationship with Jake, and I told them I was. It seems like they want to make the Scarlet Auction and the men involved out to be, like, bad, but it’s all just a misunderstanding. I mean, I get that Montana—I forget her real name—and Jake didn’t get along, but she signed up for the BDSM part, right?”
“So you didn’t feel frightened during your time with Jake? You weren’t worried that he would harm you?”
“That’s exactly what the Assistant D.A. asked me. They played this audio recording of us—did you know we were being recorded?”
Ben stiffened. He hadn’t known at the time, but one of the secret recording pens had been in his possession.
“Anyway,” Claire continued, “they didn’t tell me how or who did the recording, and I was gagging and crying on it, which was, like, kinda embarrassing to have that played in front of these lawyers, and I had to explain what BDSM was all about, like they weren’t familiar with it, but it turns out they wanted to understand what my interpretation of it was. I mean, yeah, Jake was a tougher Dom than I thought. I thought he would be a little more gentle, like in the books, but it’s kind of cool that he’s, like, this super alpha kind of Dom.”
Ben looked Claire over once more. As cute as she was, he didn’t think she was the kind of woman to sustain Jake’s interest for long. Jake was more likely keeping her on his good side during the D.A.’s investigation. Intentional or not, Claire had probably played a pivotal role in the plea deal Jake had gotten from the Trinity County D.A. She seemed smitten with Jake.
Ben’s US attorney, Murray Jones, who had with him another attorney because he didn’t specialize in criminal law, walked up at that point, and they headed into the meeting together. Claire waved a cheerful goodbye.
The meeting was not particularly enjoyable. The Assistant D.A., Tracy Clarkson, had chosen to treat Ben as a hostile witness, her judgment of Ben not unlike what Kimani’s had first been.
“Were you a participant of the arrangement known as the Scarlet Auction?” asked Clarkson, a woman in her late thirties with the strong square jaw of certain European ancestry.
“I have never attended an auction of theirs,” Ben replied.
“But you are aware of their activities?”
“I am aware they’re no longer in operation.”
“That does not mean we cannot hold the organizers and any participa
nts accountable for placing women in danger. Were you aware of their activities?”
Ben glanced at his attorney before answering, “I was.”
“And do you condone their activities, Mr. Lee?”
“How are Mr. Lee’s opinions pertinent to your investigation?” questioned the criminal attorney Jones had brought in.
“I’m under the impression that all the participants were willing and consented to their involvement,” Ben said.
“So you think it’s okay that women sell themselves to the highest bidder?”
“Do you believe the government should keep its laws off a woman’s body?”
“Do you?”
“My client is here to cooperate with your investigation,” interjected the criminal attorney, “not answer questions about his politics.”
“Speaking of politics, I understand your uncle is running for mayor of Oakland.”
Ben stiffened. “My uncle has nothing to do with any of this.”
“Surely you are not threatening to smear an innocent man?” Jones asked.
“Of course not,” she snapped, “but it might be unfortunate if our case moves forward and the nephew’s involvement is mentioned in the press.”
“I’d like a word with my client.”
Ms. Clarkson motioned for her assistant to leave the room with her.
“I don’t care if she wants to pin me with a prostitution charge,” Ben said when he was alone with his attorneys, “but none of this hits Uncle Gordon.”
“Technically, you exchanged no money with Miss Taylor,” Jones said. “You and she were simply engaged in consensual sex.”