Page 305 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Thank you, Sir.”
“That’s my girl.” I release her neck, slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her tightly against my side. Instead of maintaining her own space, she tucks in, melting against me, and when I offer her a bite of cracker dipped in the restaurant’s spinach-artichoke dip, she eats it off my fingers. I hand-feed her the rest of the food on my plate while the conversation laps and flows around the little oasis of my girl and her Sir.
fifteen
BRENNA
No matterhow nice the Chairman is, no matter that he’s never even raised an eyebrow at me, reprimanded me in any way, he will always intimidate me.
Even as he sits at his desk, peering into the small bag with two donut holes that I’ve brought him. He’s a powerful man, a powerful Dom, a powerful figure within the club and the lifestyle, but more than that, he took a chance on me when I was twenty-one and so desperate to get out of the clubs that if he’d stomped through dog shit and told me to lick it off his shoes, I would have.
I never, ever want to disappoint him.
And that’s what I feel like I’m doing, sitting across from him in his beautiful office on the penthouse level of the club with its three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, barefoot, in my club robe, with the taste of Mac lingering in my mouth, and my heart still stapled on my sleeve for everyone to see after Mac loved me up.
That’s what makes me blurt what comes out of my mouth next.
“Sir, I just want to say thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”
Chess chews down a donut hole before he asks, “Who are you and what have you done with DirtyGurl?”
I laugh and he smiles gently.
“You don’t owe me anything, Bren. Not even these.” He salutes me with the second donut hole before he eats it. “You’ve been an incredible asset to this club for the last five years. I’m gutted we’re losing you and I want to make you an offer that lets you remain part of the club.”
I swallow hard. I didn’t expect this. Probably a dozen house submissives have come and gone while I’ve been here. None of them remained part of the club after they resigned. Even Master Ryan’s submissive barely showed her face at the club after he collared her.
“Uh, yes, sir?”
“Would you stay on the roster as a dancer in nightclub two nights a week? Obviously, you wouldn’t be available for scenes. It’d still be full pay. Same benefits.”
I swallow again but for a different reason. My throat’s filled up.
“Sir, I’d love to, but are you sure? I mean, I know my dancing’s a draw, but that’s not what the members want out of me.”
Chess shrugs. “I’m not really concerned about what they want when it comes to you. They had their chance. None of them were smart enough to take it. I have hopes that Mac will join us, but if he doesn’t, I want to keep you in the Blunts family however I can.” Chess taps his fingertips on the mirror-polished top of his cherry desk. “You’re not just a good dancer, Bren. You’re a good influence on the other subs. You’re everything we want in a house submissive. Honest. Enthusiastic. Giving. It killed me to see you becoming more and more withdrawn over the past fewmonths. I’ve had words with Ten about it, not that he listened to a single fucking thing I said. I’d never do anything to drive a wedge between you and Mac when I can see how happy he makes you, but I hope he’ll return the favor and let you remain part of our family.”
“I’m sure he will, sir. I’ll ask permission, and I do think he’s going to apply to join, but I’m sure he’ll let me stay and dance.”
“Good.” Chess taps his desk again. “That was the easy part. Now for the hard part. Please give me your collar, Bren.”
My hand flies up to the plain leather nestled around my throat. “Sir?”
“I’m sorry, Bren. I know what it means to you. But it’s a sign to the members here that you’re available to them and you’re not. Besides, I think it might have outlived its usefulness, don’t you?”
No, I don’t. Not at all. I wake up with the security of the leather around my throat. I get through my day feeling its warm clasp. I go to bed at night in its embrace. It’s my collar. I’ll be naked and lost in the world without it.
“Sir, please, don’t?—”
Chess shakes his head. “I’m insisting, Bren. Don’t look so heartbroken. If Mac’s half the Dom I think he is, he won’t leave your neck bare for long. But I can’t let you walk out of here today wearing the club collar.”
Biting my lips to keep the stinging in my eyes from spilling down my face, I nod and reach around to the tiny metal clasp. There’s a trick to opening it and it takes me two tries, even while I lose the battle with the stinging and hot tears roll down my cheeks.
When I finally get it off, I hold it in my palm for a moment. It’s so worn—I hardly ever take it off, even when I’m in water like today because it’s treated and the oils from my skin keep itsupple—it hangs limp in my hand like a dead thing. Squeezing my eyes closed, I offer it to Chess.
I hear him move in a rustle of cloth. When I open my eyes, he’s kneeling by my chair, without regard for the pants of his ten-thousand-dollar suit. He gives me another gentle smile as he takes the collar from my hand and leans in to kiss my forehead.
“I’m sorry, Bren. There are some rules not even I can break.”
