“Don’t look so shocked, Anna. This is Nevada. People gamble. Besides, gambling isn’t even the worst of Wes’s habits. But as to why we’re keeping it secret, I think Wes didn’t want me to mention it because of Evan.”
“Evan?”
“Because Wes and Evan are old friends? And Evan asked him for a recommendatio
n for the job here at Les Jumeaux, and Wes suggested me… ”
She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“I see. You guys were worried Evan would think Wes recommended you, just because—”
“We’re sleeping together. Yeah,” Valeria said, her voice sounding rough. She glanced up at me from beneath lowered lashes and sighed.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be sharp. It’s just that… well, that’s all there really is between Wes and me. Sex, I mean. That’s all he wants there to be,” she added under her breath.
“And you want there to be more?”
She shrugged and moved some chicken around her plate.
“He’s way out of my league. He’s a doctor and he comes from a really old, good family in town.”
“Whatever good means. Your family sounds every bit as good, in my book.”
She gave me a little smile.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter about the job,” I told her bracingly. “Wes was right to recommend you, whatever the status of your relationship. Forget the fact that you saved my life earlier. I would have hired you for this meal alone,” I told her, taking another succulent bite of chicken. Something caught my eye.
“Oh,” I cried out, swallowing and setting down my fork. “Is that the box?”
I pointed at a dusty mahogany box on the shelf adjacent to my knees. It was about two feet wide and nine or ten inches deep, with elaborate carving on it. It was really more of a small chest, I realized. I hadn’t noticed it when we first sat down at the island.
“Yeah. That’s what Jesse brought upstairs. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I just stuck it there for now,” Valeria said, sounding relieved to change the subject.
I leapt down from my barstool. “Have you opened it yet?” I asked Valeria, bending down to get the box.
“No… I wouldn’t.”
I straightened, holding the heavy box in my hands. Valeria’s cheeks were flushed even more than they had been before. I shook my head once in regret. I was rotten at dealing with a paid employee in the house.
Lady of the manor I was not.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” I said, giving her an apologetic glance before I set the heavy box on the top of the island. I ran my fingers along the seam and over the bronze clasp. “I’m not sure I know how to open—Ah,” I said in satisfaction when I felt the fastener give. I flipped open the box.
For several seconds, my brain didn’t entirely comprehend the contents.
They were sex things—handcuffs, a leather lasher, a ball gag, leather straps and restraints and other things I didn’t immediately recognize. I also saw a clear bag filled with various colored capsules.
There were a dozen or so Blu-ray discs with hand-written abbreviations on them and dates. I read one: A, E, J &W, June 2003.
I slammed the lid shut. Valeria jumped where she sat across the island. One glance at her face and I knew she hadn’t seen what I had. The lid had blocked her view.
“It’s some files and documents,” I said, lifting the box. “I’ll just take it over to Evan’s office. Back in a second.”
I felt strangely numb as I walked down the hallway, burning box in tow. Maybe it was naïve of me. Evan and I had a very active, extremely good sex life, after all.
At least I’d thought we had.
But we’d never crossed the boundary into the box territory. We’d never restrained each other up with cuffs or leather straps, or whipped each other, or taken drugs to enhance our response… or made movies.