Page 1 of Hushed

Chapter 1

Present Day

Gage

KR:Change of plans. I’m on the train to D.C. now. I’ll just meet you at the club. Don’t worry, I’m safe. I’ll explain when I arrive.

Gage Allard stared at his phone and read the message several times, looking for any signs of distress. There didn’t seem to be any, so he fired off a quick response, all while resisting the urge to call and demand a better explanation. She needed to know he trusted her.

GAGE:Can’t wait to finish your grand tour.

Tucking the phone away, he turned his attention to the waiting submissive.

“Amber, how close are we to being ready for tonight?”

He surveyed the main dungeon of Club Exposure with a satisfied smile. Five years ago, he opened the club, hoping it would provide a safe haven for people to explore their kinky sides and indulge in their fantasies. Now, it had grown into more than he ever dreamed of, and the warehouse turned private BDSM club was buzzing with activity as staff prepared for the night’s festivities.

He unbuttoned the collar of his black button-up shirt while he waited for Amber to respond. The submissive worked part time for Exposure and was acting as his assistant for tonight’s masquerade.

“Close, Sir. Two hours until opening, and we’re restocking safer sex supplies and adjusting some lighting issues in the smaller play spaces. Olivia is here with her Daddy, and Peter just arrived with Carrie,” she answered crisply.

Gage’s heart soared at the mention of the two couples. Ripley and Olivia’s relationship had been a long time coming, and it thrilled him to see his friends thriving. And yes, he enjoyed giving Ripley shit over the fact that Olivia called him Daddy.

Peter and Carrie had an unexpected romance, but the two had been a staple at the club for the past five years. He liked to think Exposure was part of the reason both relationships happened, and tonight he would bear witness to another couple as they solidified their new bond. “And did the Library get set up the way Noah asked?”

Amber nodded with a sparkle in her eyes. “Yes, Sir. It’s so sweet what he’s doing.”

Dr. Noah Jasper was an old friend and colleague of Gage’s and had been among the founding members of the club. The sometimes-stern psychologist had lost his spark andstopped coming to parties after his girlfriend and submissive was brutally murdered. Then Reva Calhoun came along and breathed new life into him. This party was partly in honor of the couple.

The core members of Exposure were celebrating the end of what had been a tough time for all of them. But Noah and Reva weren’t the only guests of honor who would be in attendance tonight. Gage was welcoming visitors from a club in Las Vegas. A club that was more exclusive than his club ever thought about being.

The owners of the Vegas venue wouldn’t even tell him the name. Everyone referred to it as the sandwich shop. But their visiting guests seemed like good people, even if they did have criminal ties. Gage recognized that being labeled a criminal didn’t automatically make you a bad person, and he believed in gray areas.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle down with a submissive of your own?” Amber asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Gage quirked an eyebrow up at the intrusive question. “Why? You vying for the job?”

Amber wrinkled her nose. “No offense, Sir, but I only play this way at parties, and I like variety.”

Gage chuckled. “You could say the same about me.” That wasn’t true anymore, but Amber didn’t need that information.

“Then maybe we can play together later,” she said, a hint of flirtation in her tone.

Gage shook his head. “I don’t play with employees, Amber. Especially not on the nights they’re on the clock.”

Amber stuck her lip out in a little pout, and he gave her a mock glare.

Truth was, he had no interest in playing with any of the women at Exposure tonight. The woman he wanted to play with would arrive soon. Apparently by train. And when she did,everyone important in his life would finally know that he’d found someone with all the variety he would ever want or need. To say he looked forward to showing her off was an understatement.

A tiny woman with blond hair that had been streaked with bright purple dye came barreling towards him with her arms open. He braced himself for impact and hauled her against his chest.

“Jesus, woman. Is Peter letting you drink caffeine again?”

She huffed and shoved away from him. “Only coffee in the mornings. The bastard.”

Gage chuckled and bent to kiss her cheek. “Good. That shit will kill you. How’s the next book coming?”

Carrie Davenport-Mercer was an award-winning investigative journalist, and recently she’d written a couple of books that dove deeper into some of her stories, and they ended up on the New York Times Bestsellers list. Now she was working on another one. Gage proudly put a copy of each one in the Library at the club as well as on his own personal shelves at home.

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