Page 3 of Delicious Surrender
They entered a long, wide hallway with dark paneled walls and many closed doors that begged to be investigated. He opened one such unmarked door to a small windowless room and stepped aside so she could enter. “Your meeting is not foranother fifteen minutes, so you will wait here until I fetch you. No wandering off, do you understand?”
“Yes.” She gave his back a mock salute.
Were all English butlers so starched? She wouldn’t know. This was her first encounter. Perhaps only when they were dealing with the riffraff, which she surely was.
Taking advantage of the chance to check her appearance, she kicked off her uncomfortable heels and padded over to the large ornate mirror on the opposite wall. Strands of auburn hair had come out of her messy bun, so she did her best to pin the stray bits back and carefully reapplied her lipstick. When the old man returned, he huffed his impatience as she scrambled to put her shoes on.
He led the way to another closed door and knocked. Brynne noticed a Scottish crest on the opposite wall and was about to ask him about it when the door opened, and all thoughts fled.
A giant of a man filled the opening. Her breath stalled as she took in the massive chest and thick arms bulging beneath a snug navy sweater. Her eyes traveled up in slow motion until she met the man’s amused gaze and blushed. He was the most beautiful Black man she had ever seen. Eyes the color of cognac were framed by lashes most women would kill for. She stood five-foot-six in heels, but he was easily a foot taller than her.
“You must be Brynne,” he said in a deep baritone. “I’m Garrick Hunt, manager of Club Dominus.” His hand dwarfed hers, but his grip was gentle. She couldn’t help but smile back, reddening when his eyes twinkled in amusement at her wide-eyed appraisal.
He gestured to the sitting area. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
“Mount Garrick” disappeared into the hallway, and she sat in the middle of the oversized leather chesterfield. Anxiety made her fidgety. She had to get this right. Jared had been hesitant to give her any details about the club, insisting he was under a strict NDA.
Garrick returned with a sheaf of papers. “I’m a little old-fashioned. I like printouts, so I can jot notes as we go.” He sat in one of the two club chairs bookending the coffee table. “You can sit here. I don’t bite.” He pointed to the seat nearest to him.
Brynne slid across the leather cushions. Her face heated as she struggled to straighten her skirt, which had twisted and ridden up her thighs.
Garrick cleared his throat and leaned back casually, giving the impression it was an informal conversation between friends.
“I quite liked your answers to our interview questions.” He smiled. “You took a rather original approach, particularly with how you would manage a challenging guest.”
“Thank you. I believe it’s about being charming and disarming and never offending a customer.”
“True, however, you haven’t worked in an environment where the customer is not only right, but they might enjoy meting out punishment for a perceived insult or minor mistake.” His eyes never left hers, and it was disquieting.
“No, I haven’t, but I have experience defusing situations when a customer is inebriated or looking to pick a fight.” She added, “I worked in some pretty rowdy places during college inToronto.”
“Ah, Canada! Of course, I was trying to place your accent and the funny way you sayaboot.” He chuckled as he flipped a page over and continued. “What made you relocate to London?”
“I was born in the UK—in Inverness actually—but we moved to Canada when I was eight. Every summer, I used to visit my aunt in the Highlands. By my late twenties, I wanted a change of scene, and London was always at the top of my list.” He didn’t need to know why she abruptly left her promising position at a well-known magazine to grovel for an entry-level copyeditor job at theLondon Mirror.
“So, Brynne, tell me, when did you first know you were submissive?” His dark eyes met hers and held.
Thank god Jared told her to expect this question. She just prayed he didn’t think her answer was ridiculous.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve known since I was about eleven. I used to tie up my dolls. Harley Davidson Ken would kidnap Barbie and take her away to his lair. He would have his wicked way with her until Malibu Ken came to her rescue. But not before she had been, um, mistreated.”
Garrick was chuckling, and she let out the breath she had been holding.
“How many men, or women, have mastered you, Brynne?”
“Two,” she lied. “I was in a relationship until recently. We broke up a few months ago.” At least that part was true.
“That’s too bad. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you part ways?”
She met his gaze and stretched the truth some more. “He was cheating on me and going to clubs with other women.”
Garrick shook his head. “Unfortunate. You are better off without him.”
“Thanks, I agree. He was a total douche.”
Garrick smiled and flipped to the next page. “There will be plenty of situations, especially during our fetish nights, where you might find yourself lavished with attention. I assure you we take every precaution to ensure the safety of our staff. Our members represent London’s elite and are generally a civilized bunch. You can expect them to flirt and proposition you—harmlessly, of course.”
Brynne nodded and smiled. “I think it’s a pity nobody flirts anymore. Men can’t even give a compliment because it’s politically incorrect and often considered harassment.”