Page 10 of Sir Avery's Wish
“Sounds great.” Avery smiled. He hadn’t had a truly social interaction with Zane in quite a while. “My schedule’s clear after six tomorrow, so whatever works for you.”
After deciding on a seven o’clock meet-up, they said their goodbyes. He gave himself a final glance in the mirror, ensuring his hair was neat. The style was cut just above the ears with a bit of layering, though he knew the first breeze from the bay would render his efforts futile. Truthfully, the act was more about seeing how much of the silver strands were taking over the black in his hair.
Avery crossed the room, gathering up his favorite black cashmere scarf and waist-length leather jacket he’d laid out earlier. He headed down to the hotel’s garage, and by the time the valet had retrieved his silver luxury sedan and he’d traveled across downtown, it was nearing nine o’clock.
As he pulled up to the curb, he spotted a young man with curly hair and a slim build trotting up the stairs to the entrance, decked out in full gear. Avery let out a gasp and hit his brakestoo hard, his body jerking forward as the car came to an abrupt stop. Before the club valet had the chance to get the door for him, Avery burst from the car, rushing to catch up with the young man.
Right as the curly-haired man grasped the handle to one of the large brass doors, Avery called out, “Eli, wait!”
The second the man turned around, Avery was jolted out of his unexpected panic. This guy looked nothing like the scared young man who’d run from him earlier. This club-goer didn’t have Eli’s slightly upturned nose, bow-shaped lips, or his captivating hazel eyes that held more green than gold. And now that Avery was closer to him, this man was taller than Eli as well.
The apparent sub tilted his head. “Were you talking to me?”
A moment of embarrassment washed over Avery. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t a compulsive person. For the second time in one day, he’d run after someone in a panic. The same someone—or so he’d thought.
“I apologize.” Avery shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I mistook you for another man.”
One corner of the sub’s mouth turned up, his eyes roaming Avery’s form. “I could be another man, Sir.”
Avery’s musings immediately switched to how pushy subs weren’t his favorite to play with. He tightened his stance, making sure all six feet, two inches of his height towered over the impertinent young man. The effect made the boy take a step back.
Good. “Letting the Dom decide is more appropriate, don’t you think?”
The sub’s eyes widened a tad. “I apologize, Sir. I haven’t seen you in here for a while, so I figured I’d make my intentions known before you go inside.”
Even if his appearance and behavior didn’t draw Avery in, he imagined plenty of other Doms would be interested.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Bryce, Sir. Bryce Danvers.”
Avery smiled to ease the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Bryce. I’m afraid I’m not playing tonight, though. Perhaps another time if I spot you doing your very best to behave.”
Bryce grinned. “Thank you very much, Sir. I’m glad we had the chance to meet.”
The valet picked that moment to trot up beside him with his parking ticket. “Here you go, sir.”
Avery acknowledged Bryce with a nod. “Goodnight.” He then turned his attention to the valet. He didn’t miss how Bryce’s features fell before he also turned, and a twinge of remorse hit Avery. “Thank you. Sorry about running off like that.”
The valet waved him off with a good-natured smile. "No worries at all. Have a great evening."
Avery took in a deep breath, still inexplicably shaken. Not until he’d made the statement to Bryce did he realize he wasn’t interested in playing tonight after all. The encounter with him, coupled with the disappointment that he wasn’t Eli, had left him feeling oddly deflated rather than energized for the evening ahead. What had possessed him to run after a stranger? The memory of his body's automatic response—the way his pulse had spiked at the sight of curly auburn hair—unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
He stepped to the side as a group of patrons arrived, making room for them to open the double-sided doors to go into the club. The large, five-story brick building that took up the block housed both the club and the At Your Service restaurant. Zane’s office was located in the back, and the private rooms and demonstration areas were situated on the second floor, with renovations for additional rooms underway on the third. A few members who were friends of Zane rented apartments on theremaining floors. The clubs he’d been a member of in the past couldn’t begin to compete.
Avery tilted his head back, noting how, even though the building was historic, it had been renovated with modern touches. He appreciated the purple and pink spotlights that brightened up the dark street, and the industrial style metal sign added rather than detracted from the edifice.
The renovations Zane did when he turned the old warehouse into the premier downtown club weren’t as lavish as what he’d done with the hotel, but were similar in scope. In their own way, they’d each sought to preserve history while also embracing the lines of modern architecture.
Shaking his head, he pushed aside his random musings and made his way to the entrance. The weight of the brass door handle grounded him, pulling him back from the strange restlessness that had been plaguing him all day. He crossed the lobby to the reception area, the familiar surroundings a balm to his frayed nerves.
He nodded to Kurt, the burly security manager who was manning the front desk in Zane's absence. The tall and imposing man’s face split into a grin.
“Evening, Sir Avery. Master Zane said you might be stopping by.”
“Good to see you, Kurt.” Avery returned the greeting with a smile, noticing the bulge of a radio at Kurt’s hip. “Quiet night?”
“So far,” Kurt said, his voice a low rumble. “Master Zane said to tell you he left a bottle of that Macallan you like in his office if you want to help yourself.” He lifted an eyebrow. “In which case, you’ll need a pink bracelet.”
