Page 73 of The Saint

“I help my clients find their true selves. I help them find peace.”

“So… you’re not a drug dealer?”

Amusement danced in Esme’s eyes as she glanced at Camden. Amelia really didn’t like how everyone seemed to know everything except for her. She’d never buried her head underground, yet Jonathan and Hailey somehow had secret lives, and Esme and Camden understood each other without speaking.

“No. Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Thenwhat do you do?”

“I take away responsibilities and teach my clients how to shoulder burdens. It really depends on what they need. Everyone needs a release. I help figure out what kind and facilitate it.”

What the hell was all of that? Washington, DC, was home to thousands of corporate consultants who charged thousands of dollars an hour to give opinions, streamline decision making, and optimize solutions. Amelia’s job had brought her face-to-face with every variety and type—or so she’d thought. They always name-dropped and offered business cards. None were poetic in describing their occupations. None offered peace and tranquility.

Amelia stood up. “Okay, I’m done.” She shook her head. “I came here to get answers, and all you want to do is play games.” Amelia should have known that was how dealing with the CIA would be.

“I don’t play games. At least, not the kind you’re thinking of.” Esme stared as though Amelia should have been able to understand.

Camden didn’t stand up. He nodded for her to sit down. Amelia wavered but relented and perched on the edge of the thick cushion. The more she tried to understand what they weren’t saying, the foggier it became.

“I don’t get it.”

Camden did.

“What am I missing?”

“Ms. Van Alstyn is a Dominatrix.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Am I wrong?” Camden crossed his arms. He knew he wasn’t and wondered why Esme Van Alstyn had talked in circles. His best guesses involved Beth handicapping the conversation, though he didn’t know why.

Sex didn’t make Camden uncomfortable. Libidos were healthy. Desires were normal. He didn’t knock kink or look down on vanilla. He had rules of engagement when it came to sex and had always stuck to them. At least, he had until he met Amelia. Fucking the focus of his assignment should have been a complete no-go. But reality was messy. Their chemistry was fire. Still, he was keenly aware that power imbalances were tricky to navigate. He had the upper hand when it came to them. Could Esme sense that?

“You’re not wrong,” Esme replied cryptically. Amusement glinted in her eyes, though she held her laughter in with the practiced professional restraint of a woman who was in complete control of her emotions. “There are many words that could be used to describe who I am and what I do. That’s one of the best.”

Amelia’s jaw hung open as the color fled from her cheeks. It took her a century to slap her mouth shut again. Camden couldn’t imagine the questions somersaulting through her thoughts and worried she might pass out.

Esme laughed. “I take it, Amelia, that I’ve caught you off guard.”

Her forehead scrunched. Embarrassed confusion clouded her eyes. She blinked as if to force professionalism into her thoughts, in which scandalous questions were taking priority. “So… like… a madam?”

“No. This isn’t a whorehouse.”

“ADomme?”

“It’s in the same family, but this is my profession. It’s part of how I earn a living. ‘Dominatrix’ is a better fit.”

Amelia’s color returned. Camden was no longer worried she would pass out. Since he had jumpstarted the meat of their conversation, he would let the two women drive its direction again. But Amelia managed only to open her mouth and close it again, dumbstruck. It killed him to keep his hands to himself. If he could only squeeze her hand, that would do them both a lot of good.

“I’m—my sister—” Her head tilted. A pink blush blossomed over her cheeks. Given that she’d just been pale as a ghost, bright color splotched across her skin. “I’m not sure what I should say. I—” Her hand abruptly rose with her palm up, like she was trying to halt their conversation physically. “I don’t want to offend you, Ms. Van Alstyn.”

“Esme.”

Her hand dropped into her lap. “I’m just struggling to wrap my head around my sister’s”—Amelia gestured toward Esme then about the room—“involvement with you.”

“HaileyandJonathan.”

Amelia’s pink cheeks now leaned toward scarlet. “Right… Okay.They, then. I don’t know what I’m saying, and I don’t think it’s my business to ask for clarification. So—”

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