Page 112 of Over the Line
When offered a mocktail, Michael shook his head. “Thanks. No.” Then he returned his attention to David. “The mother/daughter duo isn’t grateful you rescued them before they lost the business entirely?”
“You’d think so. But no. Gloria is easier to deal with than her daughter, Maggie. She’s a total spitfire. She needs a good fucking spanking.”
“That’s frowned upon in the workplace.”
“Damn shame,” David agreed. “I’d be happier, even if she wouldn’t be. We’d be enjoying much greater success if we were on the same page.”
“And you can’t fire her because she’s too valuable of an asset?”
“Tied her up with an employment contract. Regrettably, it shackles me to her, as well.”
“Tough position.”
“Well, as soon as my responsibilities are done, I’m going to find some lovely submissive and blaze her ass, pretending she’s Maggie.”
Sounded like a good plan. Michael just wished something similar would help him forget Sydney, even just temporarily.
But he was single mindedly focused on her.
Frustrated, confounded, he strode back outside, grabbed his keys from the valet, tipped the woman but told her he’d grab his own vehicle. He needed the walk to banish some of the angst pulsing in him.
Coming to the Den had been a shitty idea.
What Jeb had advised was true.
This would require patience.
And that was the one thing Michael was out of.
Which meant it was time for him to take a bold action that she couldn’t ignore.
* * * *
Exhausted, Sydney parked her SUV and made her way to the counter of her favorite coffee shop in Avon, Colorado.
She’d spent two days mountain biking, challenging her physical and mental skills as she tried to exhaust herself enough to get a full night’s sleep.
Her awful dreams—of losing someone important because of her fear— had no intention of letting her do that.
The harder and faster she ran, the less she rested, and the more exhausted she became.
And she realized one thing.
Sex and BDSM with Michael had been amazing, mostly because she cared so much. Her feelings for him had given their interactions a more powerful intimacy.
And that insight left her… Where?
“Ready to order?” the woman behind the counter asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Sorry.” Sydney shook her head, as if that would clear the cobwebs in ways that time and exercise hadn’t. “A large iced latte, please.”
“Can I get you anything to eat?”
Sydney glanced at the menu. She’d skipped lunch, and her tummy growled, reminding her of that fact. “Oh, and a chicken club sandwich,” she added.
“You get a side with that.”
She glanced back at the chalkboard to see her options. Fruit. Salad. Pickle spears. Chips. Or fries.