Release Me

Part 15

Samantha refilled my wineglass for the third time.

"Call him," she said, her voice laced with impatience.. "Aren't you the dominant one? I mean, perhaps I can comprehend that in some ways the submissive holds all the power, or that submission itself is seen as some precious gift. But really, who cares? You're the one in control here. Pull yourself together. It's been nearly a week. Call the man."

"Black or red leather?" Without looking up from my binder, I let the question hang in the air. My wineglass swirled idly in one hand, the dark liquid reflecting the room's light. In the other, a pencil danced between my fingers, occasionally brushing against the symbol on my necklace. "If the walls are made of wood, the leather on the equipment could provide a contrasting pop of color. But would that look tacky?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"A sex club, or maybe a high-end kink club? Something like that. I was contracted by... um... one of my clients to oversee the construction process, and ultimately, to manage the place. I'm just at a crossroads about whether to choose black or red furniture."

Samantha's eyebrows shot up. "Hold on. You mean one of 'Alexandra's' clients hired you to oversee a construction project?"

"Yes." A ripple of triumph pulsed through me, a suppressed smile twitching at the corners of my mouth when my gamble paid off and she quit focusing on Kade. There was nothing I wanted more than to fix what was broken between us, but his words haunted me and I wasn't sure what to do next.

"Are you familiar with anything regarding construction?"

"Nope. Thankfully, there's a general contractor, and the client seems in touch with them almost as much as I am, but the details keep coming to me. Are you acquainted with anyone who has expertise in interior design?"

Samantha snorted, a derisive sound that echoed in the room "You're asking if I know someone who doesn't spend all day behind a computer screen? No, Atlas, I don't." With a nonchalant shrug, she flopped onto the couch. A trail of wine splattered onto the front of her shirt, eliciting a flurry of curses from her.

"Hmm, I have a friend in Boston who was an interior designer..." The thought stopped dead before it could complete. My friend was amazing, but she was also in her final contractee year on her first contract in the Society. Until this project, I never realized how much my life was absorbed in that organization. Other than Kade and Samantha, my entire world was in a different realm. I'd run out of fear, but I'd stayed away because I didn't want to face the reality of that decision. "I can't make a simple decision about fucking leather colors. There's a reason I couldn't be Regent," I muttered.

Samantha rolled her eyes so hard it looked like she might pass out. A chortle escaped her lips, and she nearly choked on her wine.

"Wow, someone certainly thinks highly of herself. It's just a club project, Atlas. Sure, it's not exactly simple, but it's hardly akin to managing a palace. Ease up, your majesty."

"It is a normal job. It's that what you wanted me to do?" I doodled in the margins of the project timeline and stared at the page seeing none of it. In the background, the Golden Girls played on the television and I wondered why my life couldn't be as simple as a weekly sitcom.

"Oh. By the way, a messenger came by while you were in the shower and dropped this off." She picked up an envelope from the ottoman and handed it to me without looking away from the TV.

My stomach knotted as soon as I saw the embossed seal in the upper left corner.

"That was almost three hours ago." The words were a choked whisper, even as I tried to appear calm.

"Yeah. Given your project, I figure it was connected. I mean, the envelope is a bit formal for a business transaction, but it's not like you're getting an invitation to a ball or something, princess."

Absentmindedly swept my tongue over my suddenly dry lips and set the binder on the couch beside me as I slid my finger under the flap.

Good evening Atlas,

Be ready at 8P. My driver will pick you up.

Casting a quick glance at my wristwatch, a groan slipped from my lips. In a sudden flurry of motion, I sprang up from the couch, narrowly avoiding a mishap. With a quick adjustment, I managed to keep the sloshing wine safely ensconced within the confines of the glass.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Samantha looked up from the television with a scowl.

"I've got to go take care of something. Don't wait up for me. If you need me, send a message to this pager." I pulled a card out of the binder and handed it to her.

"You've got to be kidding." She pushed herself upright and stared at me. "Where the hell are you going this time of night?"

I ignored her and gathered everything around me to head off to my office. There was no time to present as Alexandra. If I'd gotten the note on time, then perhaps, but even then the note did not indicate what to wear or who to be.

Bile crept up my throat, and I swallowed it down, stripping out of my sweats and into a nice pair of jeans and cashmere sweater I'd picked up at a local thrift store. With less than two minutes to the appointed time, I grabbed my mascara and swiped it across my lashes, then ran a light pink gloss over my lips. The knock at the door told me my time was up, but I took another couple minutes to pin back my hair and slip on a pair of flat.

When I finally emerged from the hallway, Samantha was already at the front door, firing a furious diatribe at the driver, her voice ringing with her distinctive northern accent. Throughout her tirade, the driver stood as still as a statue, a perfect picture of military discipline. I moved across the room and grabbed my bag, shoving the envelope inside, then stepped between them.

"Good evening, Miss Devereaux," he said and turned from the door to return to the car.

"Samantha. It's fine."

"What's going on Atlas? Who sends a driver to show up at night?"

"Breathe. I'm a big girl. It's fine. I've got this."

"Are you in some sort of trouble? Like with the mafia or something?" I rubbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug.

"No. Nothing like that. I just forgot about a meeting I had tonight with the owner of the club. His schedule doesn't always allow for day time meetings. He's a bit old fashion, so he sent a reminder. The time slipped away from me. It's going to be fine," I lied.

"You should call Kade. Do you even know this person well? Do you trust his driver?"

"There's no reason to call Kade, and this whole situation is no big deal. Now, I have to go. I don't want to keep him waiting." I pushed Samantha away and pulled the door closed behind me.

Straightening my shoulders, I walked down the small side walk and tried to appear relaxed as the driver held my door because I knew Samantha was watching out the window. The minute the door shut, my calm crumbled.

"Please put this on," the driver said, handing a blindfold back to me.

I did as he bid, and the world went dark as the car moved forward.