what she would think of his Friday night activities. No doubt she would not approve. He wished he was whole, that he could be with somebody like Marie.
But the truth was, he never had been and never would be. Oh, he had thought Winnie was the answer to his dream. The bitter truth was, she turned out to be his nightmare instead. Even so, that did not excuse what happened to her, and he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for that.
Her death had led the way to the opening of the academy. It was ironic when he really considered it. How personal tragedy had turned into both his salvation and his punishment. For in running the academy, he hoped to ensure that the tragic ending of Winnie’s life would not be repeated on his watch.
He’d put aside his real estate empire to build and run the school. He’d told himself it was yet another part of his penance. In time, he’d grown to enjoy his work. He felt as if he was doing his part at the RACK Academy to properly train those who enrolled, while at the same time he never had to actively participate.
Though what he was thinking when he hired Winnie’s best friend, he wasn’t sure. He snorted. Yes, he did. He knew exactly why he hired Marie. Because he wanted her, but wouldn’t take her. So he did the next best thing; he kept her in his sights. Ensured he knew who she was playing with. Who she was in a relationship with. In short, he kept her close, so he could know all there was to know about her without the possibility of a relationship.
He wondered sometimes if he was being unfair to Marie. She didn’t appear unhappy, at least most of the time. There were times, more times than he would like to admit if he was being honest, that he saw a sadness in her that matched his own. He wasn’t stupid or blind; he knew she wanted him. Hell, he wanted her. But he could not let that happen.
He reached the mainland and collected his car from storage. He closed his mind off as to where he was going and just drove. If he thought about it too much, he would be ashamed. And yet even still, as he approached the familiar building, he grew hard. Damn traitorous cock. It was the only part of his body that would be happy tonight.
He sat in his car for several long minutes after he arrived, wondering if he should alter his plans for the evening. Get a hotel room. Get himself off with his hand. Unfortunately, he knew from experience that wouldn’t be enough. In the end, he got out and walked inside, just like he knew he would.
The door wasn’t locked; it never would be to him. Whoever was working inside tonight had both expected him and seen him as he approached. He stepped inside and found the owner of the club, Rachel, waiting on his arrival.
It wasn’t that unusual of an occurrence. She typically greeted him every few months, to ensure his needs were being met and that he was satisfied.
“Mr. MacLure,” she said. “So pleased to have you visit tonight. Come this way.”
Rachel was a beautiful middle-aged woman who ran the operation of professional submissives. He insisted on being called Mr. MacLure as opposed to Master MacLure. At times he thought it was silly, but it helped everyone to remember who he was. And more importantly, who he was not.
He followed her into her office, a sleek, modern number with contemporary furniture. It was a bit too cold and clinical for his taste, but he didn’t visit the place for its decor.
She waved to the chair in the sitting area of her office. Once he was seated, she took her spot across from him.
“We’ve been doing this for a long time,” she said, by way of introduction.
He nodded, unable to see where she was headed. “Yes. And I would like to think our association has been mutually beneficial.”
After all, he paid a near fortune for the entry fee into the club of her professional submissives. No one dared to call them prostitutes, at least not in Rachel’s presence. If you did, you only did it once. He’d gone to great lengths to check that the women who worked for Rachel did so of their own free will and that they were not coerced at all. In fact, he knew that most encounters didn’t end in sex at all.
“That it has, Mr. MacLure, that it has.”
“You need to tell me something?” he asked, sensing that was the case, and that whatever it was, she didn’t really want to deliver the information.
“Yes.” She looked away from him and gazed out the window. In the distance, he saw the lights of Portland.
“Whatever it is, surely it can’t be that bad.” He tried to keep his voice light. From what he could tell based on Rachel’s actions, she was loath to tell him.
“I’ve recently become engaged,” she said, and he noticed the huge diamond solitaire on her left ring finger for the first time.
“Congratulations.”
“My fiancé . . . well, he’s an understanding man, but he’s not overly excited about . . .”
“His wife running a group of professional submissives?” he guessed.
“Yes.” Her cheeks colored slightly and he found that amusing. Not in all the years he’d known her had he ever witnessed her blush. “But it’s more than that. He’s been offered a job in New Orleans, so we’ll be moving before the wedding.”
“I see,” he said, and he did. While he wouldn’t have a problem with his wife doing what Rachel did, he could understand that some men might. Of course, all that really didn’t matter in the end since she’d be moving to the other side of the country.
“I thought it best to go ahead and let all my clients know now. I’ll still be here for the next few months. So if you need to make an appointment between now and then, I’ll be here for you. Well, not me, but you know.”
“Yes, of course.” He knew exactly what she meant. And he also knew he wouldn’t return after tonight. This would be his last Friday night trip off the island.
“You won’t come back, will you?” she asked, with a slight tilt of her head.
He wasn’t surprised she picked up on his thoughts. After two years, they knew each other fairly well.
“Probably not.”
She nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’ll miss you, Lennox. You’ve always been a good man and a gentleman.”
Her words stung even though he knew that wasn’t her intent. Stung because, of all the men in the world, he was the least gentlemanly of all. If she could see inside his head, she’d know how depraved he really was. If she could see into his past, she’d likely go running in the opposite direction.
“Thank you,” he forced himself to say.
Rachel smiled at him and he wondered why he had never noticed just how beautiful she was until now. Had he grown so isolated in his grief and penance that he didn’t even look at women any longer?
No, that wasn’t the case. He looked at Marie. A lot.
Damn it. He’d worked hard to never think of her when he was here. He wasn’t ashamed of what he did here, but he didn’t want any association of this place with her. He thought it would sully her somehow.
He stood up. “I think I’ll leave early tonight.”
Rachel frowned. “I should have told you after. I’m sorry. I ruined your evening.”
“No, that’s not it. I’m just . . .” He groped for the right words. “Not in the right headspace.” That was as good of a reason as any.
“Penny will be sad to hear that. She was looking forward to serving you tonight.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll survive not having to blow a has-been Dom.”
Rachel bit her lip as he turned to walk out the door. He’d just put his hand on the doorknob when she called out to him.
“Yes.” He turned around.
“It’s none of my business and I wouldn’t say anything except that I probably won’t see you again.”
He waited. He had a fairly good idea about what she was going to say, so he braced himself for the well-meaning but totally useless advice so many people wanted to toss around.
“I lost my first husband shortly after we were married,” she said, and he blinked. That was not what he’d expected her to say. “We were sightseeing in New York. It was
a random mugging gone horribly, horribly wrong. I used to think a part of me died that day, and for the longest time I was convinced they should have buried me the same time they buried him.”