Page 92 of Point of Contention

Oh, sweet fuck.It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might be with someone other than Stella while we were broken up. He’d assured me he would never touch her again, that she was knee-deep in a lawsuit and would never step foot in this club—or our lives—ever again, but he hadn’t been one-hundred-percent honest, had he? He’d omitted something huge.

He’d been worried that I’d been with Gage while he was down here doing who knows what with this gorgeous little blonde.

And how many others?

I turned in a slow circle, surveying the other people in the club. How many of them knew he’d been with her? How many ofthemhad he also been with?

Every woman caught my eye as I scanned the people around me. A gorgeous redhead in the corner. A brunette with cat ears and a black leather collar to the left. Another woman stretched out on a chaise, her hand wrapped in rope and secured to the railing behind her. An intimidating woman with jet black hair and darkly-lined eyes stood on the edge of the dancefloor. Dressed in strips of black leather that somehow managed to cover everything important while covering very little, she smacked a whip across the dancefloor, the soundcrackingthrough the room.

I shivered and quickly looked away.

Were any of these women his type? Did they have a history with Cabot? Maybe a sort of friendly arrangement that they let Master Creed whip them when he wasn’t tied down?

But really, when was he evertied down?

He’d told me himself that he’d only collared Lacey.

My mouth dried as the possibilities ran through my mind. Countless women wanted him. I’d seen the way they watched him, seen the way Stella had been so obsessed. Experienced that obsession firsthand when he discarded her and she retaliated by leaking pictures of us to the press. I’d heard about how he’d affected Lacey—from Greer first and then from Cabot’s very own lips. Lacey had been a hot mess after she’d had him and lost him.

He turned and strode toward me, drawing my focus back to him.

I tilted my head. Narrowed my eyes.

If he’d hooked up with that blonde woman… we’d been broken up. He hadn’ttechnicallycheated on me.

But still, the idea of that woman—or anyone else—having even a small fraction of him made me recoil when he reached for me.

I shook my head and he stopped. Dropped his arm to his side.

Waited.

I swallowed as I held his gaze.

The evening resumed around us. Everyone went back to their conversations.

The blonde disappeared with Gage’s other sub.

Cocktail waitresses resumed service.

Yet Cabot and I remained here in the middle of the dance floor.

Unmoving.

He hadn’t cheated. Youcan’tcheat on someone who’s broken up with you.

It’s literally impossible.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again and shook my head. The technicalities didn’t matter. Itfeltlike cheating.

Ifeltbetrayed.

And that was all that I could focus on.

Another loudcrackof that woman’s whip spurred me into moving. I turned quickly and walked toward his office. Bedroom. Play room. Whatever the fuck.

As if sensing the shift in our energy, people parted as I strode through the room and down the hallway, stepping quickly out of my way as I passed. When I reached the door to his office and gripped the knob, I scowled when it didn’t budge. I couldn’t recall him locking it, but I hadn’t been paying attention. I crossed my arms and stared at him as he stopped beside me.

“Where are you going?”

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