The meeting with Phoenix runs longer than I expected, and it’s well past seven when I finally leave the club. I haven’t seen Beau all day, and that shouldn’t be as weird as it feels. The rain is coming down in sheets when I run out to my car. The moment I’m safely tucked inside the driver’s seat, I pull out my phone.
I’m sorry I worked late today, I say in a text.
We still communicate through the app because it’s more discreet this way. A moment later, he responds, I don’t like you driving in this.
I smile at his sweet concern. More and more every day, I lose sight of the spoiled, selfish man I thought I knew and love this new version of Beau, who shows more compassion than I thought possible.
I’ll be careful.
Can you come over? I’ll pick you up.
A moment later, he responds.
Isn’t that a little suspicious?
It is. If his mother saw him getting into my car, the whole town would know by morning.
You’re right. I’ll see you in the morning.
No, I’m coming. I’ll drive safe.
See you in fifteen.
It’s very hard not to speed home, but I keep my promise and drive slowly. Knowing I’ll see him soon, be able to touch him, to kiss him, to have him completely to myself is so enticing that it’s hard to be patient.
A part of me doesn’t want to do the Domme/sub thing tonight. I just want to be with him. But does he want to be with me without that? I’m still so unsure if all of this is real or just a continuous scene we’re playing.
I pull my car into the garage, and before I shut it behind me, I see his car pull into the spot next to mine. But it’s not the same electric sports car he’s been driving. It’s an older sedan.
“Where’s your car?” I ask as he climbs out.
“This is mine. I was just driving my dad’s for a while,” he responds.
“Why?”
As he looks back at his car with a contemplative look, I wonder if there’s something he’s keeping from me. Finally, when he looks back at me, tight-lipped and nervous, he explains, “Someone vandalized it. Wrote pervert all over the side. So my dad had it repainted.”
I gasp. “Pervert? Why would someone…” And before I can even get to the end of that question, it all comes together. “It was about the club.”
He shrugs. “They must have thought it was Emerson Grant’s car. And house.”
“Your house got vandalized too?”
“Not really. It was just a threat, but I don’t think they have the guts to do anything about it.”
Why didn’t Emerson tell us about this? We all know that these conservative trolls in Briar Point have a problem with the club and want to have it removed, but I didn’t know they were out vandalizing his family’s property. And knowing Beau is involved…turns my stomach.
Emerson is ashamed. Not of the club but for putting his son in danger. If I know him like I think I do, he’s keeping this to himself because he’s too afraid to admit it.
“If it happens again, call the police. Don’t engage with them. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a soft smile.
I press my hand against his chest as I stare into his eyes. “No, Beau. I’m serious. Promise me you won’t mess with these people and you’ll call the police next time.”