Page 73 of Breaking Free

“I sure hope so.” Piper toasted in return but refrained from taking a sip. “I should go to the ladies’ room before the next set. Is there one nearby?”

Esme pointed to the back wall. “Through that door and down the hall.”

As she rose, the room erupted when the stage lights came on, and the band announced its return with a banging drum intro.

There was a lengthy line for the facilities. Once she returned to the lounge, the crowd had quieted to listen to an acoustic set. Rather than cause a disturbance weaving her way to the front, she found an empty spot on the wall and leaned against it. Gideon’s baritone and the guitar blended so beautifully, she closed her eyes to fully savor the moment.

“Piper. Is everything okay?”

Her eyes popped open at the urgency in Tristan’s voice. His frown, more concerned than his usual annoyed, touched her. She had to wonder if he was this attentive with every sub he was with, or was she becoming something more to him?

“I’m good,” she assured him. “I’ve been a Northern Exposure fan since high school. This has been a real treat.”

The tension in his face relaxed, and the frown almost disappeared. “Gid celebrated his fortieth birthday here last month. I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Knock me over with a feather! Do you actually know him?” She smacked her forehead, blushing at her fangirl reaction. “Of course, you do. He’s a member, and you’re an owner, duh.”

His lips twitched, and she thought he’d smile, but he once again disappointed her.

“I’ll introduce you after the show. Would you like me to help you get back to your seat? Getting through the maze of bodies takes practice, and I’ve had plenty.”

“I’m okay here. It was rather warm up front.” After hedging, she admitted, “To be honest, I think I’ve discovered I’m a little claustrophobic.”

“You’re also new and a little uncertain,” he astutely surmised.

“That too.”

“Excuse me, Master Tristan.” A nervous-looking young man in monochromatic black with a matching bow tie had materialized at his side, holding out a note. “Master Eric sent me with a message for you. He said it was important.”

“Does he require an answer?” Tristan asked, accepting the folded piece of paper.

“Uh...um...” he stammered, surprised by being questioned and suddenly as skittish as a cat. “He didn’t say, sir. And I didn’t ask. I’ll go do that now.”

“Never mind, Leo. You can get back to the show.”

“Thank you, sir.” He bowed slightly then bolted.

“He seemed scared to death,” Piper observed, watching his hasty retreat.

“Not scared as much as eager to please, and respectful, like most submissives.”

Another time, she would have laughed at his pointed remark. Was she the only one who dared to stand up to intimidating Master Tristan?

As he read the message, his undoubtedly infamous frown returned. He’d aimed it her way often enough, and she recalled why Leo and others quickly scurried out of his way.

“Trouble?”

“It’s work related.” He turned toward the seating area in the bar and scanned the tables as if looking for someone. “Come with me.”

She followed him, amused when he shooed a man out of a plush, oversized chair, and waved her into it. “This is Commander Dalton and his wife, Cassie.”

The couple on the love seat next to her chair nodded and smiled. They were fit and tan, with brilliant white teeth—California perfect like Malibu Barbie and Ken.

“Flynn, I hate to interrupt,” Tristan said, surprisingly polite. “I need to make a work call. Would you keep Piper company?”

“Certainly,” the dom replied. Up close, she could see tiny lines bracketing his eyes. It was the only thing that gave away his age, which she guessed was a few years older than Tristan.

“You shouldn’t be claustrophobic here,” he reassured her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He squeezed the back of her neck briefly before striding toward the door near the stage and disappearing inside.

---