Page 26 of Desire

A flash of irrational jealousy lanced through Emma’s chest like a lightning strike. Her fingers clenched into impotent fists atop the desk, fingernails biting crescents into her palms. Did they know about Club Inferno? They shouldn’t be talking like that up here at Couture, if they did.

Or maybe they were just trying to fuck Dante the therapist instead of Dante the Dom.

She really couldn’t blame them. The man didn’t just fulfill fantasies—he crafted entire realms from them, bending the world to his dominant will until pleasure and pain blurred into one shattering, all-consuming rapture.

“Think he’d be up for a two-for-one deal?” Peaches snickered, oblivious to Emma’s molten fury. “You distract him while I sit on his face?”

The crude remark detonated like a grenade inside Emma’s churning thoughts. She rocketed up from her chair before she could stop herself, the metal base skidding back with an earsplitting screech. Both models whipped around, eyes widening in surprise.

“Is there a problem?” Emma asked, her tone spiked with poisonous sweetness even as her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Uh, hey, Emma.” Lila offered a sheepish wave that did nothing to cool the red haze of jealousy clouding Emma’s vision. “We were just, you know, talking.”

“About booking sessions with Dante Ashton, our counselor,” Emma supplied flatly, struggling to keep her voice level and professional despite the cacophony of emotions roiling within. “I heard.”

A flicker of contrition ghosted across Peaches’s features before the mask of indifference slammed back into place. “Yeah, that’s right. Is there a problem with the talent requesting his services?”

She opened her mouth, a blistering retort already formed on her tongue, but what could she say? What justification did she have to deny their private requests, unprofessional or not? Dante was technically a counselor on Couture’s payroll. Emma had no grounds to refuse them.

Or did she?

An idea sparked in Emma’s mind, ill-advised but tantalizing in its trail of implications. A way to keep these thirsty models away from Dante without causing a scene. Emma went back to her desk, clicking through files and schedules before she could second-guess herself.

“Hey.” Lila drew out the word, shifting her weight from one stilettoed foot to the other with impatient expectation. “I’m feeling a little anxious. Think you can book me a session as soon as possible?”

“Me too,” Peaches chimed in, somehow making the simple request sound lascivious with just the tone of her voice. “Thanks. And send us a text once it’s all set.”

“Sure,” she said between her teeth. “I’ll have to check his schedule and see if he can squeeze you two in.”

“Thanks.” Lila and Peaches fingerwaved and then sashayed away, hips swaying. Emma stabbed at her keyboard, jaw clenched painfully.

With a few deft keystrokes, Emma assigned them appointments to one of the other counselors Couture had on retainer—Dr. Martinez. He was an older, portly gentleman, but well known for his uncanny way of making people feel at ease and opening up about their deepest troubles.

Sure, her actions had been petty and unprofessional, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty. Not when it came to protecting Dante from the wandering, juvenile advances of those two airheaded leeches.

The bravado slowly faded, however, leaving Emma awash in the chill of self-recrimination. What was she doing? Getting so territorial over a man who wasn’t hers to claim in the first place? Even if she had shared his dominance once before under the shroud of anonymity, he could never truly be hers. Not when he still thought of her as Joey’s innocent little sister.

Emma pushed away from her desk, a frustrated groan slipping free as she paced the narrow confines of her office. Every decision, every interaction, just brought her crashing back into the stark reality that he was a family friend, a man whom she could never fully have.

Halloween was supposed to have been one night of escape, of indulgence without consequence. But in the aftermath, with these lingering flames of desire licking at her composure, Emma found herself teetering closer and closer to a line that could never be uncrossed.

Which was why she needed to reschedule those sessions, to undo the petty selfishness that had led her to deny the models what any client was rightfully entitled to at Couture. Emma dropped back into her chair and pulled up the system once more. A few clicks undid her selfish reassignment, booking them into Dante’s calendar for later that day.

Resigned, she shot off a quick text to each of them:

Your appointment details are attached. Please confirm if these times work for you.

There. Crisis averted. Professional integrity maintained, even if it stung to know Dante would be alone with those two women later. Probably catering to their every whim and desire in that low, commanding rasp that never failed to have Emma squirming.

“Up,” Ezina said, reaching with chubby grasping fingers.

“Yeah, we should get some exercise.” Emma walked over and lifted Ezina out of her Pack n’ Play. Tee, Colleen, and Anya were in a meeting that would probably last until lunch, so it was just the two of them. Emma held Ezina’s hand and they went for a walk around the floor. It wasn’t a surprise that Ezina led her to the fruit vendor. She pointed to a strawberry-and-blueberry parfait and Emma sat with her on the patio and helped her eat it.

If things had been going according to plan in her life, she would be sitting on a carpet in a school teaching kids colors and the alphabet. She refused to let her mind go to the dark place where they practiced lockdown drills during her student teaching sessions. Emma’s eyes watered and she looked around the well-groomed area to steady herself. They were on the tenth floor of the resort, but it looked like any street-level café. It was beautiful here. Peaceful. Safe.

Of course, just as she was getting herself settled, Kiki Pretty sauntered out and sat down. Luckily, Emma was good at being invisible and Kiki was self-absorbed. Emma kept her head down and tried to hurry Ezina along with her snack.

“Let’s go back and I’ll read you Toby the Train,” Emma cajoled.

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