Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair (38 page)

He hadn’t just held back until I came. He’d held back until I came
twice
.

Jack wasn’t a novice, or somebody looking to hold his hand, either. He was doing the same thing I was, looking for a partner. Someone who got everything he needed. If he’d been a switch, the two of us would've been perfect for each other.

But he was a sub through and through, and in the end, I needed more.

Still, I wasn't against the idea of us hooking up again in the future, and that had been what I told him. He’d taken my lack of commitment with good-natured humor and kissed me gently. Proving again what a great guy he was.

And then, right before he'd left, he said, “It can't be easy.”

I'd looked at him in confusion and he just shrugged.

“It can be a bitch sometimes, finding a decent partner. I'm sure you've heard it. I’m not a submissive guy outside of here, but when it comes to sex...well, all I want is to please the woman I’m with, and I enjoy submitting. Finding a partner who gets that can be complicated. I've been with more than a couple of female Doms who deal with the same sort of crap, just the opposite side of the coin. The guy is supposed to be on top and the woman is supposed to submit. All that shit. I figured you probably got it too, except from both ends.”

“How'd you know?” I'd asked, curious. Nobody ever figured out that I was a switch, unless I told them. And I didn’t make a practice of that. In the bdsm world, being a switch was almost like how some people looked at being bisexual. That you could only be one or the other. Both was somehow confused. Not everyone thought like that, not even the majority, I thought, but I still always kept it to myself.

“It wasn't hard, Dena.” His eyes had roamed over me appreciatively and then he'd given me a smile before turning back to the door. “A good partner picks up on what the other one wants or needs. Same way you did with me.” He'd opened the door then, and looked over his shoulder. “If you're ever in the mood, look me up.”

M
usic blasted
around me as I stepped into the club, but it wasn't so loud that I couldn't hear myself think. I took that as a good sign. This was only my second visit to Club Privé since moving to New York. So far I hadn’t decided on whether or not I wanted to join, but so far, things were looking good.

I was greeted by one of the hostesses, and she led me up to the VIP floor. She hadn't asked for my name, but she’d greeted me with it. I assumed that meant she remembered me from my initial visits here. That was service for you. But that was also why they had a VIP section, and why they charged buckets for it.

I'd been places where their VIP section was a joke, but here, it seemed to be worth it. I was moving through the scattering of bodies on the top floor when a good-looking couple approached. After a moment, I put a name to the man's face.

“Gavin, right?” I held out my hand. “The owner?”

“Yes. And you’re Arik. Arik Porter, if I remember correctly.”

I nodded, not elaborating any further. It was a habit. I only gave the needed information, never anything more.

“What do you think of my club?”

I gave him a noncommittal smile and nodded to the woman with him, a gorgeous blonde who he clearly adored.

She held out her hand. “I’m Carrie. I hope you're enjoying yourself.”

“Right now, I'm just looking to get a drink and sit down for a little while.” I hadn’t decided on anything beyond that, although I hoped to scout the group out and see if I couldn’t find somebody to...keep me company.

Carrie smiled brightly. “Well, let's get that taken care of. Would you care to join us?”

It seemed like as good a plan as any to get the lay of the land, so I nodded. A few minutes later, I found myself sitting at a table with them, a drink in hand while Gavin, Carrie and I chatted easily.

“What brings you to New York?” Carrie asked, tossing her golden curls over her shoulder. “You mentioned that you were new to the city?”

I nodded. She wasn't a native either, judging by the slight Southern drawl. “I was offered a new job, and it was worth the move.”

I didn't offer anything more, and Gavin moved the conversation in a different direction. He asked if I'd belonged to any clubs back home, mentioning that he had briefly thought of expanding into other cities. When I said I was from Chicago, Carrie immediately mentioned that her best friend was originally from the windy city, and the conversation meandered from there.

After nearly twenty minutes, Carrie excused herself to go talk to someone she knew, and a short while after that, somebody came to haul Gavin away on business relating to the club. He told me to enjoy myself and let him know if I needed anything. I assured him I would.

I had to admit that even though I enjoyed talking to them both, I wasn't sorry to see them go. I hadn’t come to make conversation, and now that I'd had my drink, I was ready to find a distraction. That wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted to do with an audience.

As I made my way to the stairs, a cute redhead bumped into me. She looked up at me from under her lashes, offering a giggling apology that suited her youthful appearance.

I smiled, but before I could brush around her, she moved closer and rested a hand against my chest. A bold move for someone I immediately marked as a submissive. Then again, she might've been the kind of sub who liked to flirt and push until she finally found someone to punish her.

“Are you...looking for anybody particular?” she asked, her gaze flicking to my mouth.

“I might be.”

She bit her lower lip and slid the hand on my chest down. I caught it before it reached my belt, but I didn’t move her away. I was curious to see what she'd do next. I wasn't opposed to delivering a little bit of punishment at the moment.

“I can be anybody. Somebody.” She licked her lips again and moved in closer. “Nobody. Take your pick.”

I let my eyes run down her body. She was about average height, slender, and wearing a few strips of silk and lace that barely covered her essentials. She was beautiful, and I had a feeling she'd do every single thing I told her.

Wrap those cherry-red lips around my cock and suck. Let me fuck her mouth.

Spank her ass until it was hot and pink, my hand stinging.

Use a flogger. A crop. Any one of the dozens of toys I was sure the club provided their VIP patrons.

Fuck her in every position possible. In her pussy. In her ass. As hard and as fast as I wanted.

Make her scream my name, and beg me to let her come.

I knew she would let me do all of that and more. All I had to do was say the word, and she'd be mine for however long it took for us both to be sated.

My gaze came back to her face. “So, anybody. Somebody. Nobody. Do you have an actual name I should call you?”

I
'd expected
to be nervous. After all, this was the job I’d been working toward my whole life, so it made sense that my stomach felt like it had butterflies as I walked into the Manhattan DA's office. The offices were huge and not a little intimidating, but I had my game face on and didn't let the nerves show.

Dressed in what I considered my best power suit, I crossed the black and white tiled floor with slow deliberation, my briefcase swinging from my hand and my head held high. I'd spent hours yesterday picking out exactly what I wanted to wear this morning.

The pinstripe two-piece suit fit me to perfection. The pencil skirt stopped at my knee and the fitted jacket stopped just a little below my waist. I wore a white camisole under it that displayed a hint of lace at vee of the double breasted bodice. It was feminine and flattering, but understated and more powerful for it.

My shoes, on the other hand, were anything but understated.

They were murder red Manolo Blahniks – my favorite shoes.

They matched the bag I carried and I know both the bag and the shoes made a statement, but it wasn't as much about the statement as it was about me personally. I liked how the entire outfit made me feel, and today, I needed that. I needed to feel like I was a woman to be taken seriously and not a child to be overlooked.

As planned, I arrived five minutes early and took a few moments to look around. Despite the power suit and kick-ass shoes, I felt out of place, and started to worry that I looked out of place too.

I mentally chided myself. I wouldn't be here if I didn't belong, if I couldn't do the job I was assigned to do. I belonged here just as much as anybody else and I knew that. At least most of me did.

“Well,” a low voice said, drawing the word out. “Hello there.”

Even before I turned around, I knew what I was going to find. Years of experience had already taught me this lesson. I deliberately waited a beat before turning to meet a set of turquoise eyes set in the face of a man who could only be described as pretty. And judging by the look on his face, he knew it too. Every inch of him said he spent more time in front of the mirror than I did.

His gaze slithered over me, and I set my face into an expression of cool disdain. He was smiling, although the smile wasn't directed at me. How could it be? He was too busy checking out my rack and my legs.

I cleared my throat and waited for his gaze to swing upward. When it did, I gave an icy smile. A practiced mask settled on his face, one I recognized. I was supposed to be charmed or flattered by his clearly appreciative perusal.

I didn't blink, holding his gaze until he looked away first. Still, he didn't look the least bit embarrassed or ashamed. As he stepped forward, he held out a hand.

“I’m Pierce Lawton, the new ADA. Would you by chance be...ah, Dena, I believe? The other one?”

The other one. Nice. “Yes. Dena Monroe.” I took his hand and gave him a short, quick shake, long enough for him to know he hadn't intimidated me, but too short for him to read into it.

“I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to diving in. Getting my hands dirty.” He gave me a quick wink that I was sure he thought was charming. “It's okay to be nervous, you know. Between the defense attorneys and the scum they represent, it's hard to know who's sleazier.”

I had an answer to that question, but kept it to myself. A moment later, I was glad I had.

A woman strode in, pausing only briefly when she saw us. Sharp blue eyes moved from Pierce to me, and then she nodded. “Good,” she said, her voice crisp. “You're both here. Follow me.”

She didn’t introduce herself, but I had to assume she was Bethany McDermott, the ADA I was told I’d be working with. She looked to be in her mid-forties, but with plenty of make-up and her honey-blonde curls professionally done, she might've been older. When she walked into an office, I saw her name on the door, confirming her identity.

She strode around the desk and only then turned to face us. Bracing her hands on the desk, she studied us for a moment. She wore her own version of a power suit. It was the same sapphire color as her eyes, and close-fitting, flattering her lush curves without being obvious.

She looked like the kind of woman who drank souls and had the hearts of her victims for breakfast.

“Okay, so this is how it's going to work. Due to our current situation, we aren't going to do our usual six-week training period. I don't have time to coddle or baby either of you. Figure out how to swim, or you're out. Be prepared to learn and learn fast. We hired you because we assumed you could do the job without us having to hold your hand along the way.” She paused, her eyes sliding over to me. “Will that be a problem?”

My spine stiffened as her gaze locked with mine. It felt like I was getting singled out, and I didn't care for it. But I didn't let my reaction show. “Of course not.”

She flicked a look at Pierce and arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“That's how I work.” He gave her the same slow, smug smile he’d given me earlier.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but just barely. What a schmuck. But every office, firm, classroom, had a guy like him, if not two or three. I learned how to deal with them years ago, and generally it was best to ignore.

“Good.” She pushed a button on her phone and when a voice came on, she said, “Darcy, I wanted those files now.” She looked up at us again. “I've got a lot of cases on my desk, and basically, the two of you are going to do all of the scut work I don't trust to the paralegals. You won't say a word to a judge until I've determined you won't fuck up my cases.” She gave me a condescending smile. “Is language an issue for either of you?”

I had a few choice words I wouldn't have minded sharing with her.

“Of course not.” I smiled blandly.

“Excellent.” She gave a short nod as the door swung open and a rather harried young woman stuck her head in. “Bring in the case files.”

While Bethany addressed the person I assumed was Darcy, I mentally sighed over the fact that I was back to being the bottom rung on the totem pole. Part of me had anticipated it, but it was still grating. I might not have argued criminal cases before, but I'd been presenting to judges on my own for a couple of years.

As Darcy stepped out again, Bethany turned back to Pierce and me. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m your direct supervisor, which means I'll be deciding if and when you're ready to take on cases of your own. You do a good job and I'll get you into the court room. Screw me over and you'll be lucky to argue shit in traffic court.”

Darcy shuffled in with an overflowing file box, looking like she could barely hold on. I was petite, but this skinny wisp of a woman looked like she was about to fall over. Instinctively, I moved to help, taking it from her as I glanced toward Pierce, waiting for him to step in.

He didn't, solidifying my opinion of him as a total asshole.

“Thanks for taking the initiative, Dena.” Bethany gave me a cool smile. “There’s a list in there that details everything I need. I also had Darcy send it to your email so there aren't any excuses. Pierce, you’re with me.”

The box gouged my hips with its sharp corners as Bethany strode out of the office, Pierce at her heels. Staring at their backs, I briefly imagined giving into the childish urge to stick my tongue out at them. I didn’t, of course, but it would've been satisfying.

“You have an office.” Darcy gave me a small, nervous smile when I looked at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You already have a space to work. I'm not sure I'd call it an office, but it’s yours.”

I nodded and grimly tightened my grip on the box. “Lead the way.”

S
ome nine plus hours later
, I collapsed face-down on the couch in my apartment, more thankful than ever that I didn't have a roommate. I had a sweet little place in Chelsea, and it was my pride and joy. Just then, though, I couldn't take the time to appreciate the restored brick walls or the view, or anything else for that matter.

All I wanted was peace and quiet, and maybe in a little while, a glass of wine.

Fuck that. I might just have the whole damn bottle.

My first day as an ADA hadn't exactly been what I could call glamorous. It hadn't been exciting. I couldn't really even say it had been fulfilling. I could have handled the lack of glamour and excitement. Those stars had been wiped from my eyes a long time ago. But it would have been nice if the day hadn’t completely sucked.

Once Darcy had shown me into my office – it was hardly more than a closet – I had spent the first hour dealing with a computer that had come straight out of the Stone Age.

Then I’d spent several hours going blind on legal briefs. There were filings and reports, things that were generally handled by paralegals. Except Bethany didn't seem to have any paralegals around. I knew things were tight since they'd let Pierce and I slide on the usual training, but it still seemed excessive.

Then again, my boss seemed like that kind of person. Excessive. And not in a generous kind of way. When I’d been coming back from lunch, Bethany had found me and demanded to know how far I'd gotten.

“You’re not done yet?” she'd snapped. Then with a shake of her head, she’d shoved a clipboard into my hands. “People up for parole. I argued the cases in court. Write the letters. You can pull up the details on your computer.”

I'd seen the conference table through the glass behind her, and both she and Pierce had looked to be working on something else, something that apparently required them to have meals brought in. Rather than ask why he was working with her rather than me, I simply nodded end and retreated to my cell. My office.

And that was where I'd stayed until I'd realized it was after five. When I left, I saw Pierce coming out of an office a few doors down from Bethany’s. I'd managed to catch a glimpse into the room before he shut the door completely.

“My new office.” He'd given me a smug smile. “You like yours?”

“It suits me just fine,” I’d lied.

I wasn't a superficial person, but I did believe in equality and fairness. Two people starting out the same should be treated the same. There was no reason for Pierce's office to be an actual office, with room for a real desk and some movement. But there it was.

Now, I was lying on my couch and trying not to brood too much. It didn't mean anything. Maybe he actually had more experience than I did. I was pretty sure he was nearly a decade older. Maybe he'd transferred from another DA's office, and he had more seniority. It didn't matter.

That was what I told myself. I didn’t particularly believe it, though. The phone rang, but I ignored it. I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to deal with anyone asking me how things had gone, didn't want to have to listen to anyone else talk about their problems. I just wanted to be left alone.

I ignored pretty much everything right up until my bladder forced me off the couch and into the bathroom. I could see the screen of my phone showing that I had messages, but I didn't answer any of them. I didn't even look at them.

What I did do was get myself something to drink.

After pouring myself a glass of wine, I retreated into my bathroom and settled down for a nice long soak.

“Tomorrow will be better,” I said. Relaxing back into my lavender and vanilla bubbles, I sighed. “Tomorrow will be better.”

W
hat a line of bullshit
.

The next day wasn't any better, nor were the days that followed. I felt like I was an associate all over again, and it annoyed the crap out of me.

It only got worse on Wednesday morning when I took some files to Bethany's office. I paused in the doorway, listening while Pierce explained a tact he would have tried if he was first chair on some case they were working on.

I stood there stiffly, my hands gripping the files I held, waiting for them to notice me. When they finished, Pierce glanced over at me and gave me a surprised look as if he’d just now realized I was there. Bethany, however, eyed me dismissively before going back to the notes she was working on.

“Did you need something?” Pierce asked.

“I just need to give Bethany the research notes she needed.” Keeping my voice level, I walked across the floor and put everything down. As I was turning away, I heard papers rustling.

“Oh, great. I needed this for that filing I was doing for you, Bethany.”

I stiffened even more, one hand curling into a fist. Unlike a lot of lawyers, I didn't thrive on conflict. In fact, I didn't even really like it. I liked making logical arguments, presenting clear and concise evidence.

But a girl could only take so much for so long, and I was heading down that path.

I was being jerked around and I knew it. I'd need to address it, but I wouldn’t do it without thinking things through. This wasn't some asshole at a club. This was my job, the place that I'd always dreamed of being. I wasn't going to lose that in a moment of rash temper. No matter how justified.

But just as I reached the door, Bethany spoke, “Actually, Dena, it's a good thing you stopped by. It saves me from having to hunt you down later.”

I turned toward her, letting her know I was listening.

“I've been given the okay to put the two of you up for the next case that comes across my desk. You'll be taking second chair, of course. I’ll be arguing the case, but you'll be there to see how things work.”

I blinked, almost certain I’d heard wrong. Pierce grinned as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Bethany ignored him, her pen scratching across the surface of her notepad.

“In the meantime, I’m presenting you two with a case. It’s already been closed, but I want to hear strategies on how you would've handled it had you been trying it.” Now she looked up, sliding her gaze from Pierce to me. “Consider this trial by fire. Don’t fuck up.”

Something hot and pleased settled inside me.

Pierce glanced at me, but I didn’t waste my time looking at him now.

Trials by fire suited me just fine.