***
She was in a BDSM club—listening to another woman throw up.
Lacey hovered outside the bathroom door, wincing as she listened to Cady vomit on the other side. “Cady, I really think I should get Hunter.”
“No, no, don’t go out there.” The urgency in the other woman’s voice made her pause and the trepidation that had been growing ever since she’d agreed to come here tonight increased. She’d never expected to take Cady up on her offer. She’d mulled over it for weeks. Gone back and forth. Researched BDSM until she knew enough to write her own book. And then curiosity had gotten the best of her.
Damn it. This was a stupid idea. She had no right being here, dressed like this. She glanced down at her tight, red dress. It wasn’t too revealing, but it was short and it managed to fool the eye into thinking she actually had curves. A push-up bra had managed to give her some cleavage. She’d kept the makeup minimal, she’d never learned how to apply the stuff properly and she was scared of mucking it up and looking like a clown.
“Why? What will happen if I do?” she asked, alarmed.
The door to the toilet stall opened, and Cady looked up at her tiredly. Aside from her pale face and the dark marks under her eyes, she looked ready to party in a tight, yellow corset and black, leather skirt that ended just below her ass.
“Nothing will happen. This isn’t a house of horrors. Relax. I just meant that if you go get Hunter he’ll make me go home, and you won’t get to experience a night at the club. That’s all.”
Oh. Maybe she’d overreacted. Just a little.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t go home?” she asked the other woman. “Not to be rude, but you look terrible.”
“Gee, thanks,” Cady said dryly, moving stiffly towards the sinks.
This was one of the most luxurious bathrooms she’d ever been in. Wall-to-wall, light-colored marble. Large, porcelain sinks. Well-lit mirrors and hand towels that didn’t feel harsh against your skin from over washing. There was a changing area at the back that held lockers, showers, and even dressing tables and plush chairs.
Cady ran the water and wet a towel, squeezing it and placing it on the back of her neck.
“How long have you been feeling ill?” Lacey asked, feeling concerned.
“It comes and goes,” Cady replied. “Most of the time I’m fine then boom, it hits me. Probably just a virus or something.”
She grabbed a packaged toothbrush and some toothpaste from the cupboard beneath the sink. Wow, these guys thought of everything. Mind you, for the price they charged for a membership, a few toothbrushes and some toothpaste was hardly going to break the bank.
“Doesn’t sound like a virus.” Lacey frowned slightly. “Could you be pregnant?”
Cady paused, the toothbrush hanging out of her mouth as she stared at Lacey in the mirror. Then she spat the toothbrush out. “Wash your mouth out!”
“Pardon?” Lacey asked.
Cady turned sharply then groaned, placing her hand on her stomach as she raced to the toilet once more. Lacey winced at the sound of her retching. The door opened, but she didn’t look over, too concerned about her friend.
“I am . . . not . . . pregnant,” Cady half-yelled through the door.
“What the fuck?” a male voice roared, making Lacey jump. She stared over at a shocked Hunter as he scowled at the toilet door. “You’re pregnant? You’re sick? And you didn’t tell me?”
The retching noises ceased. Well, nothing like being scared half to death to make you stop vomiting. Lacey resisted the urge to rub her ear. The man had a voice on him.
The door opened, and Cady glared out at her fiancé. “I’m not pregnant.”
“No?” He stepped forward, looking so intimidating that Lacey actually found herself taking a step back before she could help herself. “Then why are you throwing up?”
“It’s a virus.”
“Came on very suddenly, did it? So suddenly you couldn’t tell me you were feeling ill before we left the house?”
Even Lacey could read the guilt on Cady’s face. Hunter paused, resting his hands on his hips. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a week or so.”
“And you hid this from me?” There was a dark threat in his voice that made Lacey shiver.