Page 28 of Lesson In Honesty
If—no, he corrected,when—the sale of his homegrown tech company went through after the lawyers got through with their bullshit, he would be able to live anywhere he chose. Hell, after just a couple days at Serenity, he was considering offering the owners a small fortune to buy one of the luxury cabins and a lifetime membership, because goddamn it if this didn’t feel like home.
For a guy whose roots had been born in sand instead of firm ground, Mack found it ridiculously easy to pull them up and move on when the urge struck him. Unfortunately, that was too often; some places just hadn’t fit him the way he needed, and in others,hehadn’t fit in.
For months, he’d been burned out.
The impending sale of MVM Tech was a huge drain on his energy, even with the lawyers handling the bulk of it. There was still a shitload of paperwork to read, sign, and the terms of the sale were constantly being renegotiated by the buyers—something he really didn’t like or appreciate, especially when it centered around the job safety of the people who’d helped him build the company from the tiny basement-sized enterprise to the formidable operation it was now.
Mack’s terms were set in stone—his people kept their jobs, or he kept the company. Simple, really, particularly when he was on the fence about selling in the first place.
Part of him wanted to keep it, but the sensible, businessman side of his brain told him it was growing beyond his capabilities. That meant running it at a capped level, never truly allowing itto reach its full potential, or letting it go to evolve into something greater.
As a man with a conscience, it was causing a lot of internal conflict.
Tristan had booked the month behind his back, telling Mack that if he didn’t come of his own volition, Tris was quite happy to drug, hog-tie, and ship his miserable ass on a forced vacation for his mental welfare.
What were best friends for if not that?
Admittedly, Mack agreed that a break would be good for him. He just hadn’t the time or inclination to sort it out himself, and he damn well wouldn’t have known about Serenity. It was only through luck and insider connections on Tristan’s side—it always paid to know the owner, but then millionaires were in a league of their own, he supposed—that a cabin was available.
So far, he’d spent two nights in an oak sleigh bed big enough for four, sleeping like a baby on a mattress designed to cradle his body in clouds, on sheets that felt like silk.
He’d woken to the open fire already lit downstairs, warmth spreading through the cabin before he’d even opened his eyes, and breakfast kept warm under a heating dome. The coffeemaker primed, ready to pour at his leisure.
Fucking Nirvana, he repeated to himself.
Two days of complete rest and relaxation recharged his batteries enough that he was ready to assess the rest of the club, maybe find someone to play with on a casual level, and spread the wings he’d been chaining down too long in order to get his business off the ground.
Exchanging one set of wings for another was all well and good until the balance tilted too far out of whack.
It was after ten when he traversed the gravel pathways through a series of well-lit buildings toward the main clubhousewhere he’d checked in. The night was cold, the wind brisk and a little brutal, and he thought he smelled frost in the air.
Air filled with the sounds of happy people and ongoing scenes from open doorways. Some buildings were obviously fully occupied, but soundproofed with the main doors closed.
Following a couple meandering in the same direction, he frowned as they didn’t head through the big wooden doors to the check-in area, but veered around to the side. Intrigued, he kept a respectable distance and continued to follow them, hoping they didn’t think he was stalking them.
They walked up the steps leading onto a prettily crafted porch, then the man stepped forward to hold open a swing door, gesturing for his woman to go ahead of him. A second later, he glanced up and met Mack’s eyes in the dark. “Are you coming in?”
“Ah… what’s in there?” Mack asked, regretting not studying the map he’d been given as part of his check-in package. He would rectify that before he ventured out again; the last thing he needed was to get lost and be rescued by the in-house search team.
The guy nodded in understanding. “Just arrived? We’ve had a few days to settle in, but we were in the same boat. This is the bar through here, restaurant’s on the other side, but it’s interconnected internally.”
Mack hurried up the steps, catching the door as his new friend offered a hand to shake. After a brief, firm exchange of palms and names—Derek Palmer from Long Beach—they walked in together, and found Derek’s wife already stripped off and kneeling by an empty table. “Thanks for the assist, Derek.”
“Anytime. Sure you don’t want to join us for a drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.” He was more interested in what was happening over by the actual bar, where a tall blond Dom wastalking to a dark-haired guy exuding the same Dominant vibes. “Do they put on bar shows here? Demonstrations?”
Derek hummed thoughtfully. “Demos, sure, but usually in designated areas.”
There was an undercurrent of excitement shimmering in the air, a zing of anticipation that couldn’t be seen but stroked over the skin. Something was going on, something that had the patrons murmuring and salivating over their drinks.
Maybe he’d just grab himself a beer and settle in to watch.
Giving Derek and his wife a wave, Mack headed toward the impressive curve of gleaming wood, taking note of the number of stools and their occupants. By his reckoning, many of them were in that beautiful twilight where the adrenaline and dopamine of a scene was slowly leeching away.
A lot of attention, however, seemed to be on the curvy female kneeling in front of a bar stool. Sweet, lush curves, he noted, although there was a look about her that told him she’d lost weight recently. A slight sag to her pale, marked skin where it hadn’t tightened, telling him the loss had been quick.
Did she belong to someone?