“I’m sorry I scared you.” His earnestness made the knot of panic in her chest ease a little. He held her a long moment, neither of them brave enough to speak.

“Are you ready to go home?” he finally asked.

“Yes.” She still had her arms around him and she tilted her head back. “Wes, will you take me to the club tonight? I know you plan to go watch over the forged Monet. I want to go with you.”

His eyes narrowed. “You want to go to the Gilded Cuff with me?”

She nodded.

“No.”

“But—”

“Callie, that’s a full BDSM club. You wouldn’t know what to do, and you are far too shy. Besides, I’d have to collar you in front of everyone just to keep the other doms from approaching you.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, considering how brave she might be to go to the club and play by his rules. She didn’t know if she could succeed but she wanted to try.

“Wes, this is important to me. I want to do this.” Going to the club was part of his life and she knew that if she ever wanted to convince him they could be together, then she had to prove she could survive in his dark world.

“You’re serious about the club?” A flicker of consideration in his eyes showed she might have a chance to convince him.

“Please,” she begged, staring at his lips, then his eyes. She stood on tiptoes and curled her fingers around the back of his neck to pull his face down for a kiss.

This time she was the aggressor and used her lips to convince him how much she deserved him and wanted to please him. He growled softly against her mouth, his hands spanning her waist and pulling her against him. The kiss deepened and this time she lost her control. Clinging to him, she sighed and moaned as he assaulted her senses.

When they finally broke apart, she was pinned back against the wall next to Vengeance’s stall and Wes was stroking her bare arms, his eyes bedroom soft, his lashes at half-mast as he gazed intently at her kiss-swollen lips.

“All right. You can come tonight, but I’ll need to keep you close in order to make sure you don’t anger any of the doms. I love your fire, but not all masters like their submissives spirited.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and the caress was soothing.

“I can do this, Wes. I promise.” She had faith that she would be brave enough to survive a night at one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs on the East Coast.

“We’ll be there together.” His assurance warmed her.

Together. What a difference one small word could make.

*  *  *

Corrine Vanderholt lingered in the tack room, eavesdropping on Wes’s conversation with the little blonde-haired twit. It still infuriated her that Wes had broken off their relationship for a girl like that. A small-town nobody. Corrine had connections to the Kennedys, for God’s sake. Any man should want to marry her. Lucky for her, though, she didn’t actually like Wes. Sure, she played submissive, because that was the only way a woman could get any time with him. And that had been her goal. To get time with him, to get him to propose to her.

She had no interest in his love or his money. She wanted his art. For the last few years she’d been watching him as he purchased several rare, near priceless pieces. The Monet, the Renoir, they would all be hers. There was just one problem. He kept these rare pieces well hidden. Her partner had cased Wes’s house and hadn’t found them anywhere. But Corrine knew they had to be there somewhere. Paranoid Wes had just hidden them and they needed a way to trick him into showing the paintings’ location.

Her partner had developed a plan to steal art from Wes’s friends and clients. When Wes learned of the thefts he would want to get involved, and just as her partner had predicted, Wes would use his own art as bait to draw out the illusive thief. A little smile curled her lips. Wes had it all wrong. He was the mouse in this game and she was the cat.

It was a good thing she’d thought to follow him to the barn. That little nobody in the rose dress had revealed an unexpected twist. Wes wasn’t planning to hang the real Monet in the club. He was going to hang a fake. That meant her plan to steal it had to be changed. A wicked sense of glee filled her. Oh, it would be too easy to get Wes to hand over the real Monet and anything else Corrine desired.

“There you are.” A deep masculine chuckle came from the back door of the tack room that led to the other row of stalls on the other side of the stables.

Corrine turned to see her partner. He called himself the Illusionist, but she didn’t care about the nickname. She only cared about him and the art they would steal.

“Hey, baby,” she purred and wrapped her arms around his neck.

His brown eyes burned through her. He was the only man who ever made her feel before. She didn’t have to playact any certain way when she was around him. She could just be herself.

“What’s Thorne up to?” He settled his hands on her lower back and tugged her close.

“Changing the game, that’s what. He put a forgery in the club this afternoon. The real Monet is still hidden.”

Her partner frowned. “Damn.”

Corrine stroked her fingertips along the nape of his neck, teasing with the edge of his polo jersey. “It’s okay. I know what we can do.”

“Do you?” He bent his head, kissing her until she was breathless.

“Yes,” she replied. She had the perfect plan. And it would cost Wes that sweet girl he’d dared to fall for.

Chapter 24

Remember to breathe.”

Callie had to repeat Wes’s suggestion a few times as he parked his Hennessey in a lot outside an old warehouse building. Her hands were shaking as she climbed out of the car and glanced around. It was eight o’clock and the lack of buildings around this isolated warehouse was a little eerie in the dark.

“Ready?” Wes held out a hand and she took it, grateful to have him to hold on to.

He looked good in his black wool suit. His clothes and his demeanor screamed that he was a powerful dom. She wore only jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of soft leather cuffs with a fur lining. When she’d asked earlier that evening what to wear, he’d told her to dress comfortably because she’d change at the club and he’d taken care of her outfit, which he’d put in the submissive locker room earlier that day.

She had no idea what to expect. Would Wes want to do a public scene with her? Sure, she’d read plenty of romance novels, but what was this like in real life? What she did with Wes in private was wonderful, explosive, but she was afraid she couldn’t do something in public, not something incredibly intimate. What if he wanted her to be naked in front of his friends or the other doms? They hadn’t talked about that, but she was feeling right now like those might be close to her hard limits.

“Darling, are you all right? You’ve got a death grip on my hand.” Wes gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m good,” Callie lied. He frowned and that look made her instantly regret lying.

“Callie, once we’re inside the club. No lying. That’s important. I won’t be mad at you, even if you tell me you’re terrified. All you have to do is use your safe words. ‘Yellow’ to slow down if you’re uncomfortable and ‘red’ to stop immediately.”

She nodded, relief flooding her. Wes would protect her. All she had to do was rely on him to guide her through the night.

Callie followed Wes as they reached the warehouse. He opened the large wooden door to the inside of the club lobby. Craggy rock walls and sconces with warm gold lights gave the castle a medieval ambiance. There was one red-painted door at the end of the lobby, and a man in a black suit with a red armband stood by the door, checking IDs of the men and women passing into a dark interior beyond. A few people stood in a line in front of a desk where a woman in a pantsuit and black-framed glasses was checking names off a list.