him. Not that she’d ever admit that to him.
Still, she hadn’t decided how to respond when a second text followed.
If you’re a good girl, you’ll be rewarded.
Ignoring both messages, she dressed and rode the elevator to the lobby for a much-needed caffeine fix. Unfortunately, the tall, black coffee didn’t help. In fact, it flooded her system with nerves. The combination of that and no sleep caused her to be jittery.
Then her phone vibrated, indicating he’d contacted her again, and that made things worse.
She looked at the screen. An address appeared on the display. If her guess was right, it was in a sprawling north-western Denver suburb, not too far from the foothills. Lots of land to go with the privacy and mountain views.
Catrina slammed the phone on the table, facedown.
Damn him for tempting her.
Preferring carbs over healthy eating, she ordered a waffle and slathered it in butter and maple syrup.
A number of people wandered into the dining room. She recognized some from the Den. Bradley and Master Lawrence strolled in, smiling at each other. They never looked in her direction. It had been a long time since she’d felt so alone.
Catrina paid her bill then went upstairs to finish packing before heading back to Denver.
With the snow-covered mountain roads, the drive took an hour longer than it usually did. And that gave her far too much time to think.
At her small but cozy Washington Park bungalow, she put away her clean clothing and tossed a load of laundry in the washing machine before going about her weekly chores. Even after she was finished, there were still too many hours left before she could go to bed.
She wandered into her office. She’d finished her monthly newsletter before heading to the Den, but she opened the document on her computer and proofed it a final time. Then she pulled out manila file folders belonging to women she was meeting with the next day. Her first appointment would be with her newest client, Lara. The woman’s husband had stunned her less than a week ago with the news that he was filing for a divorce. In the twenty-eight years the couple had been married, Lara had allowed him to handle the bills and investing. When Catrina had met with her last week, Lara had cried the whole time.
At times, Catrina felt as if her role was one of a counsellor more than a financial advisor, but that was the part of the job, and she treasured it.
It had only been five years since she’d been in similar circumstances…facing the unexpected and unwelcome end of an intimate relationship and staring at the all-too-real possibility of financial ruin. Helping others navigate treacherous waters gave her life meaning.
An hour later, she closed the files and slid them back in the desk drawer.
She was sitting at her desk, staring out of the window at a couple walking past, holding hands, when angst returned in a massive rush.
The rest of the afternoon and evening loomed. She’d worked out before going to the Den, and she hated to overdo the exercise since she had a yoga class tomorrow after work. She didn’t want to sit in front of the television all night, though that was becoming a bigger possibility with each passing minute.
She shoved her chair back from her desk and paced the hardwood floor of her still-to-be renovated home.
No light blinked on her phone, meaning Damien hadn’t contacted her again. He obviously expected her to answer his summons, something she had little intention of doing.
An hour later, she wasn’t as sure.
No matter what she focused on, she couldn’t banish thoughts of him. Despite her resolve, he intrigued her.
Then her great internal debate began.
It couldn’t hurt to see him.
But no good could come of it.
She wasn’t a sub.
But she did like to learn and grow.
Since she hadn’t masturbated, sexual tension crawled through her. She hadn’t deliberately followed his orders, yet she ached to feel his strong hands on her body.
Damn it. She didn’t
Still, she hadn’t decided how to respond when a second text followed.
If you’re a good girl, you’ll be rewarded.
Ignoring both messages, she dressed and rode the elevator to the lobby for a much-needed caffeine fix. Unfortunately, the tall, black coffee didn’t help. In fact, it flooded her system with nerves. The combination of that and no sleep caused her to be jittery.
Then her phone vibrated, indicating he’d contacted her again, and that made things worse.
She looked at the screen. An address appeared on the display. If her guess was right, it was in a sprawling north-western Denver suburb, not too far from the foothills. Lots of land to go with the privacy and mountain views.
Catrina slammed the phone on the table, facedown.
Damn him for tempting her.
Preferring carbs over healthy eating, she ordered a waffle and slathered it in butter and maple syrup.
A number of people wandered into the dining room. She recognized some from the Den. Bradley and Master Lawrence strolled in, smiling at each other. They never looked in her direction. It had been a long time since she’d felt so alone.
Catrina paid her bill then went upstairs to finish packing before heading back to Denver.
With the snow-covered mountain roads, the drive took an hour longer than it usually did. And that gave her far too much time to think.
At her small but cozy Washington Park bungalow, she put away her clean clothing and tossed a load of laundry in the washing machine before going about her weekly chores. Even after she was finished, there were still too many hours left before she could go to bed.
She wandered into her office. She’d finished her monthly newsletter before heading to the Den, but she opened the document on her computer and proofed it a final time. Then she pulled out manila file folders belonging to women she was meeting with the next day. Her first appointment would be with her newest client, Lara. The woman’s husband had stunned her less than a week ago with the news that he was filing for a divorce. In the twenty-eight years the couple had been married, Lara had allowed him to handle the bills and investing. When Catrina had met with her last week, Lara had cried the whole time.
At times, Catrina felt as if her role was one of a counsellor more than a financial advisor, but that was the part of the job, and she treasured it.
It had only been five years since she’d been in similar circumstances…facing the unexpected and unwelcome end of an intimate relationship and staring at the all-too-real possibility of financial ruin. Helping others navigate treacherous waters gave her life meaning.
An hour later, she closed the files and slid them back in the desk drawer.
She was sitting at her desk, staring out of the window at a couple walking past, holding hands, when angst returned in a massive rush.
The rest of the afternoon and evening loomed. She’d worked out before going to the Den, and she hated to overdo the exercise since she had a yoga class tomorrow after work. She didn’t want to sit in front of the television all night, though that was becoming a bigger possibility with each passing minute.
She shoved her chair back from her desk and paced the hardwood floor of her still-to-be renovated home.
No light blinked on her phone, meaning Damien hadn’t contacted her again. He obviously expected her to answer his summons, something she had little intention of doing.
An hour later, she wasn’t as sure.
No matter what she focused on, she couldn’t banish thoughts of him. Despite her resolve, he intrigued her.
Then her great internal debate began.
It couldn’t hurt to see him.
But no good could come of it.
She wasn’t a sub.
But she did like to learn and grow.
Since she hadn’t masturbated, sexual tension crawled through her. She hadn’t deliberately followed his orders, yet she ached to feel his strong hands on her body.
Damn it. She didn’t
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