Page 32 of Illicit Education
Whether it was reciprocated or not—it definitely was—one of us had to be the adult. The professional. The goddamn level head.
By the time I reached White Rabbit and parked in the underground parking lot, I wasn’t any less confused. Not even a workout could get Ms. Blake off my mind.
This was a new feeling, this intense attraction.
I wish I could say I hated it, but…
No.
Nothing could come of it.
The store was empty as I strode through, nodding to the cashier as I passed. I could never remember her name. Stopping at the ivy wall, I keyed in the code, then descended into my haven. Each step downward eased a little more tension from my shoulders. This was my sanctuary, where I came to unwind. The only place I could truly be myself.
Ms. Blake wasn’t a part of this world. Here, I was safe. I could push thoughts of her aside while I became a man she’d likely never understand—and would surely want nothing to do with.
Over the years, I’d told only a handful of women about this darker side of my life, and none had reacted well. It was something I now kept completely separate.
Aside from Stella, Travis was the only one who knew what I got up to in my free time.
I kept my personal life just that:personal.
My online presence was negligible at best. No social media accounts, no soiled reputation. Minimal mentions of me could be found online, even though I was the son of one of New York’s wealthiest men.
I’d been careful. Private.
Unlike Roderick Rombauer and his pack of vipers, I’d kept my nose clean. Worked hard.
Played even harder.
Privately.
Breathing deeply, I followed the corridor deep into the underground until I reached Mistress Sinclair’s private office and rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
I entered the office, closed the door behind me, and bowed my head. “Mistress Sinclair.”
She gasped. “Cabot…?”
I lifted my head and met her wide eyes.
“Wow.” She shook her head in disbelief as she looked me over. “I haven’t seen your face in…”
“Ever.” I chuckled. “I had that beard for nearly two decades. You would have been, what, ten years old?”
Mina laughed. “Eleven, actually.” She shook her head again. “You’re very handsome, old friend.”
“Thank you.”
“But you’re not here to show off your chiseled jaw.” She tilted her head. “You changed your mind about tonight, I hope?”
“Yes. If you still want us to perform tonight, we are at your service.”
“Wonderful.” She motioned to a chair. “Come in. Sit.” Once I was settled, she said, “Something else on your mind?”
She had this uncanny ability to read people. It made her the best in the business. There was a list a mile long of people who wanted to play with her.
“Actually, yes, I would like to discuss something with you. Is this a good time?”