Paris (The Adlers Book 4) Read online

  “I don’t think you know what you’re getting in to… and I’m pretty sure my brothers and sisters would tell you the same thing.” Trinity didn’t respond, simply waited while she mulled over what else to say. Watching her bite her lip, Trinity could almost hear the rush of thoughts streaming through her mind.

  “I don’t think I’ll be a good mate, and I’m sure you have plenty of women who would love to be your submissive… women who really are submissive.” It amused him she didn’t consider herself submissive when it was blatantly obvious to him. “I don’t understand why you want me, Trinity… Sir. I’m just starting my career; my brother controls my money until I’m thirty or I marry.”

  “My interest in you has nothing to do with your career—although I am looking forward to watching you grow in your chosen field. Nor am I interested in your money. We haven’t discussed it, but I work because I want to, not because it’s necessary. I founded Deep Frost, a cybersecurity company when I was in college, I retained ownership, but no longer manage the day to day operations. I used my mother’s family name for years to avoid being linked to the fashion label my parents own.”

  It had taken several years for the paperwork to be completed for his team to manage Deep Frost, but once everything was in place, he’d finally returned to his father’s name. Using the name long associated with magical families had settled something inside Trinity, and he’d finally felt he was ready for a new stage in his life. Shrugging, he gave her a quick grin before continuing.

  “The bottom line is… I don’t need your money, Sprite. I’d prefer you left the investments with your brother after we’re married. You’ll feel better knowing it’s there, and I’ll feel better knowing you’d have instant access to cash if anything happened to me.” She’d be a very wealthy woman, but it would take time to sell his interests in both companies. Substantial assets are rarely liquid.

  “Holy haggard handmaids, that was the worst proposal in history.”

  Of all the things Trinity had expected Paris to say, that wasn’t even on the list. Trin burst out laughing, then shook his head. Damn if she wasn’t right. When is the last time a sub made you laugh during a scene? Never. Fucking hell, she’s perfect. For the first time in years, Trinity realized he’d become far too serious. When had he forgotten how to have fun? To laugh at the little things in life? When he hadn’t been raising hell in high school, he’d been busy writing code. After starting his business, he’d hired the best people to run it and devoted himself to raising hell—until a pack elder assigned him to shadow the local Sheriff.

  “You’re right, baby. I promise to up my game, and we’ll have a redo on the proposal.” He’d make it a proposal she’d never forget. He had a secret weapon—her sister was less than a mile away and still floating in honeymoon bliss. Trinity knew London would be happy to provide guidance.

  “You haven’t answered my question, Sprite. I want to claim you, but I won’t until you agree. You are my mate, and I am convinced you can feel the electricity arcing between us.”

  “I can feel it. It’s a bit overwhelming at times. You are so much more experienced, I worry it’ll be impossible to learn enough… fast enough, to keep your interest. And even though I want to belong to you, I need to know you won’t go bananas the first time I sass back or drive.”

  “Drive too fast, my sweet mate, and I can promise there will be consequences.” Trinity didn’t hesitate to interrupt. Paris’ safety was the one area where he would never compromise. She was already being threatened, and he was struggling to cope with the elements of danger he couldn’t control. Leaving her to waltz knowingly into a potential threat wasn’t happening.

  “Maybe I’ll ask Bronx to get me a granny car.” Her overly dramatic sigh of resignation was amusing.

  “That’s cheating, Sprite,” he teased. Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, cupping the base of her skull, Trinity massaged the tight muscles, pleased when she moaned softly. “I’ll help you learn control, baby.”

  We’ll have many, many years together to work through the challenges.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two Days Later

  Israel Adler stared at the screen watching for any indication Ian McGregor and Luke Grayson were wrong. The chances two of the smartest men he knew had made the same mistake were somewhere between slim and non-existent. Unfortunately, it was the only hope he had.

  “Pull her in? What the fuck?” He couldn’t believe Senator Lamb wanted the FBI to bring Paris in for questioning. “What’s the basis? Questioning about what for Goddess’ sake?” Hell, his blood pressure was going to give him a stroke if he didn’t get some damned help hired.

  “It’s a power play because Paris filed a complaint against David Lamb for breaking and entering an occupied residence, sexual assault, and battery.” Luke chuckled and shook his head. “Although they might have a hard time making the last one stick since she beat the shit out of the little fucker. Damn, I’m proud of her, and B is practically beaming.”

  “This happened before the wedding, and she didn’t say a damned word to anybody? I hope to hell Trinity has shown her the error of her ways.” The smiles on Ian’s and Luke’s faces assured Israel his sister probably wasn’t sitting comfortably. Shaking his head, Israel realized for the first time he was thinking of Paris as an adult—Damn, she grew up while I wasn’t paying attention.

  “It seems the good Senator wants to chat with Paris. And since the team she sent to pull your sister in hasn’t been able to get through Evan’s security—she’s playing the power card.” Luke was talking but never stopped typing on the keyboard in front of him—amazing. “We were watching the son, not the mother, so the old bat got ahead of us, but she’s suddenly having trouble getting her paperwork to go through.

  “Challenging Nancy Lamb doesn’t come without potential problems.” Ian leaned forward for emphasis, and Israel knew where the conversation was headed. Anyone holding the Senate seat Nancy Lamb had called her own for two decades, was well accustomed to getting their way. When denied, they tended to dig their heels in and go down with the ship.

  “You and Ian are on the same page. He thinks the old bitty will go to war before she backs off, so we’re going to distract her, then re-route this fucking train wreck to the FBI Headquarters in D.C.” Israel gave his friends a broad smile, he knew several ranking members of the FBI were long-standing members of Club Isola, they could interview Paris under Ian’s watchful eye.

  “You’re consulting with the local Sheriff?” Israel knew it was a given but felt obligated to ask, anyway.

  “He got the long version this morning, you’re getting the abbreviated update because we both have sweet submissives we’re anxious to get back to. All work and no play makes me cranky.” Israel laughed at Ian’s confession because he could remember when his friend was so obsessed with work no one who knew him thought he’d ever find a submissive of his own.

  A flash of emptiness hit Israel fast and hard, but it was gone just as quickly. Sucking in a startled breath when he felt the warm brush of fingers over his cheek, Israel knew he would recognize the caress anywhere. His mother always stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers when she knew he was worried or stressed. Taking another deep breath, Israel refocused on the present.

  “I’m in New York, I’m taking Catalina to dinner tonight and will catch an early flight tomorrow. Do you have a room available, or do I need to stay in the city.” He hoped like hell one of the small apartments in the club would be open—and one close to where Ian was planning to stash Paris would be even better.

  “Already taken care of. You’ll have the suite next to Paris and Trinity. Don’t be surprised if you see the Wests wandering the halls.” Ian grinned before adding, “Lilly and Tobi planned a shopping trip in D.C. and New York.” Israel knew his surprise must have shown in his expression because Ian laughed out loud. “Not to worry, their men are not unleashing them on the east coast unattended. I’m pleased Del and Dean will be here
to act as advisors. They’ll provide a much-needed buffer. You can’t replace experience when assessing situations the rest of us refer to as FUBAR, these men are particularly skilled when it comes to finding solutions we might have missed.”

  “I agree. There’s no substitute for experience, I’ve heard they are both remarkable strategists.” Israel had heard his military friends use the term FUBAR and knew it meant fucked up beyond all recognition, but it was the first time he’d heard Ian admit there were times he sought guidance from anyone other than Daniel Lamont. Daniel and Catherine Lamont’s sons, Alex and Zach owned The ShadowDance Club in Colorado. ShadowDance was similar to Prairie Winds, Club Isola, and Mountain Masters because all the owners were friends before starting their individual kink clubs. People often joked about Club Isola catering to a kinkier crowd because of its proximity to the nation’s capital. As far as Israel was concerned, it wasn’t a joke—it was the fucking gospel. The ultra-exclusive club was the only safe place for the rich and powerful to enjoy their kink without worrying the prying eyes of the press or their political enemies were lurking around the corner, ready to use the information against them.

  “The Wests are due to arrive later today. Callie has planned a dinner party, and I want to spin her up a bit before we sit down for what I hope will be a very enjoyable meal. Luke will email you a run-down. Will Cooper be joining you for dinner?” Israel hadn’t considered the possibility, but now it seemed likely. He’d learned a long time ago, Ian McGregor didn’t ask random questions. When he simply raised a brow in question, Ian shrugged.

  “Just in case, please update him as well. I’ll have a suite ready for them.” Damn, McGregor was assembling a hell of a group of operatives and strategists. He was front-loading in a big way, making Israel anxious to read the documentation he knew Luke had already sent.

  Israel watched Ian’s attention shifted to something or someone out of camera range—when the club owner’s eyes dilated, it didn’t take a genius to know Callie had entered her husband’s office. Watching the change in the owner of Club Isola was fascinating—his expression went from happy greeting to blazing desire between one heartbeat and the next. Ian pulled his naked wife onto his lap, smiling at her indulgently. Israel noted Luke had stopped typing, the silence falling eerily around them. There was something so captivating about Callie McGregor everything seemed to go into slow motion for a few seconds whenever she entered the room.

  One night, well, actually the final hour before dawn, after a particularly wild night at the club, Israel had joined a small group of Doms decompressing in the bar area. The conversation turned to contracts between Dominants and Submissives—how valuable are they in the long run? What’s the ideal length of time? The conversation had been lively, considering they were all beat, but Ian had noticeably stayed out of the discussion. When one of the Dungeon Monitors asked him to weigh in, the boss had shaken his head and smiled.

  “If Callie had shown up on the dock and you’d been the first one on the scene, would you have taken a chance with a contract, or would you have simply collared her?” The other man nodded his head once in acknowledgment. The boss was right. “Have you ever noticed that time stops—just for a second when she walks into the room. It’s fucking remarkable. I’ve watched it time and again—it doesn’t matter if it’s the club, a restaurant, or group of moms from Carly’s playgroup—everything stops. Would any of you risk losing her? I didn’t build my business by making foolish choices, gentlemen.”

  Israel would never forget the look on the men’s faces and often wondered if he’d ever find a woman he recognized as his, the moment they met. He’d played with subs he considered collaring, but he’d never experienced that moment of instant recognition he knew Ian was talking about. The same warm brush of fingers caressed his cheek again, his mother’s soft voice moving through his mind. Soon, sweetheart. Very soon.

  Paris couldn’t believe she and Trinity were on their way to Club Isola. When she’d first started researching the lifestyle, it was the club all others seemed to aspire to emulate. Callie McGregor had invited her to visit; unfortunately, this wasn’t the social call Paris had envisioned. While she was grateful for Ian McGregor’s help, knowing she’d landed on Senator Lamb’s bad side didn’t bode well for her future.

  The small ferry they’d boarded bumped gently against the dock and Paris smiled when she saw Callie and Abby waving from the edge of the wooden structure. Their men were standing behind them, legs spread, arms crossed over their impressive chests, looking like indulgent sentinels. Oh, make no mistake Ian McGregor, Logan Douglas, and Kalen Black were all three Doms from the tops of their heads to the tips of their booted feet. Paris wrapped her hand around the top rail, ready to hop over onto the dark decking of the dock when Trinity grasped the back of her shirt, stopping her.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Beautiful?” Trinity leaned down, licking the two small scars at the top of her left shoulder. The touch was so blatantly sexual, Paris felt her body respond with the familiar fire starting in her core before igniting every cell it touched as the heat moved at the speed of light through her. Damn it, her knees were threatening to fold out from under her… again.

  How long is this going to last? Goddess above, when am I going to regain control of my own body? Since he’d claimed her two nights ago, Paris hadn’t been able to control her response to Trinity. Hell, all she had to do was catch a whiff of his scent, and her sex flooded with cream. She’d changed panties so many times, Paris felt like she’d spent more time doing laundry than working on plans for the new school.

  “The intensity of our mutual attraction will remain at this level until the next full moon. It’ll slowly fade to a more manageable level in the coming months, but we’ll always experience a magnetic draw stronger than what you’d expect to find in non-shifter relationships. Your scent is imprinted on the most primal part of my being. I could track you anywhere in the world, mate.” His fingers traced the tracking bracelet, licking the shell of her ear then caught her when her knees folded. Trinity had effectively distracted her long enough for the crew to set up a safe exit a few feet from where she’d been ready to climb the rail.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Don’t forget I spent the last five years in California, I know how to hop a rail and secure a line.” She’d spent so much time at the marina when she’d first moved to the west coast, the locals adopted her as they would a stray pet. The entire area had a laid-back vibe she’d found soothing, and since it was just down the block from her condo, Paris loved studying at one of the many outdoor cafes and picnic areas.

  “Yes, I did it on purpose. Seducing you is so much more fun than commanding you to wait. Your safety is my top priority, sweet mate. You belong to me, and I take care of what’s mine.” He straightened, giving her a chance to push back some of the need barreling through her system.

  “Come on, come on. Damn, I thought you two were going to spontaneously combust. You’re going to give Ian and Callie a run for their money when it comes to public porno.” Abby’s excited voice carried easily on the breeze, making Paris giggle.

  “Baby, you’d better rein it in a bit before your other Master has a stroke.” Logan’s tone might have sounded teasing, but one look at Kalen told Paris the warning had been real. The man with the angelic voice looked even more formidable in person. Neither Logan’s warning nor Kalen’s appeared to have any effect on Abby as she rushed forward to give Paris a rib-crushing hug.

  “Love, you’re hurting her. Not everyone is a Tinkerbell Ninja warrior. Let Paris take a breath before her knees fold out from under her—again.” Kalen winked at Paris, and for the first time, she understood what nineteenth-century authors meant when they talked about a woman swooning. A heated flush blazed over her cheeks, and she could have sworn she heard Trinity growl.

  “Oh, pickle fudge. Sorry, I get excited and forget not everybody grew up surrounded by Special Forces operators who took great delight in teaching me how to s
nap people like twigs.”

  “Something we’ve come to regret, I assure you.” Logan grinned at his wife while extending his hand to Paris. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Paris. We’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you and look forward to helping you get through this mess so you can focus on your new life.” While she appreciated the sentiment, Paris wasn’t convinced it was going to be easy. From what she knew about Senator Lamb, the woman was relentless when it came to getting what she felt she was entitled to. And, for some reason, the barracuda seemed intent on having Paris’ head on a platter.

  Ian stepped forward to greet her with a quick hug before setting her back, studying her carefully. His eyes never left hers, but she knew he’d cataloged even the smallest details. “Welcome to Club Isola, Paris. Callie and I are pleased you’re here, even though I wish it were under different circumstances.” She nodded despite feeling like she was being steamrolled by the dichotomy of Ian McGregor. Everything about him screamed wealth and class, his eyes sparkled with the intelligence of the entrepreneur she knew him to be. There was no question the man was a Dominant to the depths of his soul, and she sensed instinctively he’d been much harsher before Callie entered his life.

  Stepping back, Ian motioned Callie forward. Paris was caught off guard by the petite blonde… Callie McGregor was stunning. It took Paris a few seconds to realize the other woman had apparently asked her a question. Paris heard Ian chuckle softly before leaning forward in a conspiratorial whisper, “It happens all the time, Little Light. Callie renders people speechless by simply walking into a room, it’s remarkable to watch.” Paris couldn’t hold back her laughter, grateful Ian had rescued her. She’d even caught the reference to her being named after the City of Lights.

  Callie’s warm embrace settled her nerves, and before Paris realized what was happening, she found herself sandwiched between the two women as they made their way up the winding path to the club’s massive stone entrance. It was easy to see why journalists were frustrated in their attempts to photograph members entering the club.