A Little Band of Red (The Red Series Book 1) Read online

  “Got it.” Grabbing the blueprints beside her, PJ handed them over.

  “Good and I need the tread depth for the stairs confirmed.”

  “Done it.”

  “Electrics?”

  “Confirmed this morning.”

  “Lighting?”

  “Arriving Tuesday.”

  “Tiles?”

  “Wednesday.”

  She could see the little smile tugging at the corner of Rodger’s lips, his moustache twitching as he finally came to a standstill.

  “Sorry, Boss, I sound like an asshole, but fuck, if we fail this inspection, the whole project will get shut down. And even if we don’t, there’s another one next week, for the pointing and brickwork.”

  Unlike her, Rodger wasn’t even attempting to hide his mounting anxiety, and he’d been doing this for years.

  “It’ll be fine.” It had to be fine. “You’ve done everything they required and done it well. We just have to keep to the schedule.” And the schedule said PJ had a meeting, a two-hour window to think about something else before she attacked next week’s problems. “I’ll be back by five. If you need me, call.”

  “Roger that.”

  In spite of everything, she laughed. “You’re funny.”

  “You think?”

  India was waiting in PJ’s local Starbucks, which was less than three minutes from the warehouse. It wasn’t until she entered and sat down that PJ realised how much she needed a friend. Being totally surrounded by people all week had ironically left her feeling incredibly lonely and isolated. India didn’t want to know about wall sockets though, or the drain placement for the second bathroom, she had other things on her mind, naughty things, like wanting to know all about PJ’s deepest and darkest sexual fantasies.

  “So, what is it then?”

  “Yours first.”

  Indy’s big blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Do you want the one I’d tell a potential boyfriend or the one I’d love to actually happen?”

  Somewhat confused by India’s question, PJ just stared at her. “Why would they be any different? Surely you’d want this new hot boyfriend starring in your fantasy.”

  Taking a sip of her coffee with far more tongue action than was necessary, India stared back. “Therein lies the problem, PJ. Any man I meet in real life would run a mile if I mentioned on our first date that I’d like him to tie me down, spank my ass, then fuck me until I can’t walk.”

  The woman had no filter, PJ was sure of it now. “You make a valid point, but that’s not the worst of it, so spill. I want the juicy ones.”

  “My ultimate fantasy,” India slowly licked her lips again, leaving a shimmer of moisture behind, “would be total submission to someone I knew without a doubt was dominant, like really dominant. I want to be completely taken over by someone else’s will.”

  Her deep needy little groan had PJ’s toes curling.

  “Obviously if he’s hot that’ll make it so much better.”

  Stunned stupid by her new friend’s honesty, PJ didn’t know where to look this time. She’d never had such a frank conversation with anyone. “And the other one, for your new normal boyfriend?”

  With her eyes dreamy and her cheeks flushed, Indy looked a million miles away. PJ had no doubt that while India’s physical self was sitting in Starbucks, her mental self was strapped to a bench with her ass in the air while a huge black man fucked her from behind. Still, she waited, her fingers tapping India’s hand until her focus returned.

  “Ah yeah, threesome like everyone else I suppose.” Indy looked disheartened, like that fantasy somehow wasn’t enough. “So what about you, Babe, what pushes your buttons?”

  God, where to start? PJ’s fantasies were like a pack of cards thrown in the air, anything could land face up, but there was one she always returned to when she was in bed, alone.

  “I’ve got a lot of fantasies actually, sometimes I’m in control, sometimes I’m not. The one I really love is a threesome, two men and me; both dominant, both in control, but no pain, I hate pain. Whips, floggers, all that stuff give me the creeps.”

  “What about being tied up? To a bed or one of those spanking benches in the book, does that interest you? You know—” with her voice like a sexual purr, India whispered across the table, “make you wet, Baby.”

  Did it? PJ honestly didn’t know. Her sex life had been totally uneventful. She and Sam had been together for six years, the first of which had been great. But PJ had been a slow starter, not losing her virginity until she was nineteen. The next few years had been a foray of drunken fumbling and embarrassing encounters, again leaving her somewhat underwhelmed by her sexual awakening. She really couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Sam at least had known what he was doing—as long as he was doing it missionary position with the lights off.

  Her first orgasm had taken her completely by surprise, mainly because she’d been in bed alone, fantasizing about someone else. She’d been tied down in that little ditty, arms above her head, legs spread wide, a drop dead gorgeous man with smouldering brown eyes and shoulders to die for thrusting between her thighs. It had been a perfect moment, sadly not one she could ever see happening.

  “You should come, PJ. You know you want to, you just said it. Where else are you going to find men like that?”

  “I can’t. I’ve got so much going on with the renovation. I can’t afford to be distracted right now.” It wasn’t a complete lie; it wasn’t exactly the truth either. There was no denying the appeal of exploring something new and exciting, and if by some miracle of God there happened to be a man there she was attracted to, who was attracted to her in return, then yes, the thought did make her wet, very wet, but she wasn’t naïve anymore. She’d learnt a very valuable lesson; men said things like ‘I love you’ then made promises they couldn’t keep. The last thing PJ wanted was to become one of those bitter and twisted women, but if she put herself out there again and got hurt, it could seriously become a possibility. Despite that fact or maybe because of it, she had read the bondage book from cover to cover, twice. She’d also spent hours she didn’t have trawling the Internet, researching anything she didn’t understand and reading blogs. But just like in real life, the one thing had come through loud and clear was that finding that perfect match, that true connection needed to grow a fulfilling D/s relationship, was like finding a shooting star. The flip side of that scenario, being used by a different man every other weekend left PJ cold. It simply wasn’t for her and never would be. She was twenty-seven years old. She wanted a family and a future with someone. Yes, six orgasms in four hours would be amazing, just not at the price she’d have to pay.

  “You can. It’s one night, three little hours. Come with me to the first one and see if it’s your thing. At least then you’ll know.”

  “What if someone hurts me?”

  Indy’s smile was wicked, all glossy red lips and sass.

  “Well, Miss Lester, if you like it, I believe that would make you a masochist.”

  “I was talking about my feelings.”

  “Ah, I was thinking about your ass. Seriously, PJ, think about it. New start and all that. This might be exactly what you need.”

  An hour later when PJ headed back to the warehouse, her mind was still racing, trying to untangle all the images and emotions Indy had stirred up with her scintillating conversation.

  As she entered the courtyard with her phone in hand, about to text Indy and tell her what a bad influence she was, PJ spotted a little brown dog. It was down an alley, desperately trying to pull something out of a rubbish bag. A quick glance around revealed no one, not even Rodger or his crew, and Jim’s appeared to be empty too.

  With her heart thumping and her hands damp, she crept closer. PJ could barely make out a face in the dismal winter light, but what she could see was absolutely adorable. Crouching down, she edged her way along the wall. The dog jerked around, looking at her before it hastily took a step back, then another. A second later it was gone, d
isappearing into the darkness.

  “Shit!”

  She’d always wanted a puppy, had asked for one every year without fail as a child and her parents had always said no. They weren’t here now; unfortunately neither was the dog. As she headed further down the alley past the skip, she couldn’t see it, although she could hear scuffling nearby, little feet clawing over stones and bricks.

  For the next ten minutes, PJ waited, huddled against the wall, but there was nothing more, so she finally headed back to the pub, mentally adding yet another thing to her ever-growing list—find stray dog.

  Chapter 4

  PJ heard Rodger long before she saw him on Monday morning. Standing in front of the warehouse, he was surrounded by an army of tradesmen, delegating them in numerous different directions.

  Setting herself up in the corner of the apartment, she began to sort through her emails. Many she deleted, some she read then deleted. One she answered. Alice Faulkner had been the only shining light in the black sea of misery that had been PJ’s workplace; they’d bonded instantly. She was also the one person that PJ felt truly guilty about. Alice had been an incredible friend, doing everything she could to help PJ cope with Derrick’s relentless harassment, and in the process, he’d turned on her too. But she wasn’t ready to tell the world about the Lotto win or the one-way ticket. She wasn’t ready to justify her decision to run away either. That day, which now seemed so long ago, had been her perfect storm. The highest point of her life, surrounded by the lowest. But if there was anyone that would understand what PJ had been going through, it would be Alice.

  When Rodger appeared ten minutes later, thunder etched all over his face, PJ was still staring at the screen, trying to find words to explain.

  “Coffee, Rodger?”

  “Whiskey, PJ.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Bloody barge has been delayed, it’s not docking till three. It’s got the structural section for the mezzanine on it, the section that’s getting inspected tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Fuck!

  With a scowl he headed off to corner his team just as her phone vibrated in her pocket.

  “What’s up, Indy?” Escaping the noisy worksite, PJ wandered down the hall, past her neighbors’ door, then out into the courtyard. India babbled continually, making no sense whatsoever. “Slow down, I missed ninety percent of that.”

  “The manager at Bond Street just called me, they need a medical and a photo before tonight or you can’t join the program. I don’t want to go by myself, so can you get it sorted today? Please, please, please?”

  In a moment of weakness, literally, that one second between drawing breath and laughing, Indy had done it; she’d gotten PJ to agree to join the club. What did she have to lose other than her self-respect, her knickers and her submissive virginity? If such a thing actually existed, which she strongly suspected it did.

  Since then PJ hadn’t had a minute to think. Rodger’s team had worked right through the weekend and so had she. When she wasn’t running errands, emailing contractors or trailing after the man himself, she’d been out searching the alleys, looking for the little dog, but other than a new friend, Rene, from Starbucks, she’d found nothing.

  “PJ, please focus.”

  “Umm yeah, I’ve got a current medical from my insurance policy, I can scan it through now and I guess I can take a photo. Where do I send it?”

  “I’ll text you the address, they were adamant they won’t accept anyone in the club without seeing both first. Please, make sure you do.”

  “Okay. I’m going now, as in right this minute.” Glancing down PJ took in her Converse sneakers, skinny jeans and her black woolen coat. She was dressed for a building site not a Victoria’s Secret photo shoot. Did she even have makeup on?

  Rushing through the bar, she waved to Jim before darting upstairs to grab her medical certificate. She had a quick look in the mirror, cringed then took her first official selfie. It was a fucking horrible shot, not that she cared, in less than eight hours they’d get the pleasure of seeing her in the flesh, well not flesh, she planned on keeping her clothes on this evening. Her phone beeped again. Quickly she scribbled down the address then went in search of Jim.

  “Can I use your scanner please?”

  “Course you can, it’s in the office under the paper.”

  Pointing towards the small door at the end of the bar he headed off in the other direction. Jim wasn’t joking. Under piles and piles of paperwork was an archaic printer. It looked simple enough, but after ten minutes PJ was still no closer to scanning anything. Her phone beeped again. With her frustration building, she grabbed it expecting another panicked call from India, not the gruff, pissed off voice of Rodger.

  “PJ, I need you back now. We’ve got major problems. Where are you?”

  “I’m coming, I’ll be back in five.” She tried one more time to get some sort of response out of the scanner then gave up. Her priority was her home not her new hobby. After quickly rearranging the office, she stuffed the certificate in her bag and headed back to find Rodger waiting at the bi-folding doors, his big fingers tapping his clipboard.

  “Decision time young lady.”

  “Calm down, Mrs Kaiser, your husband’s not dead, he’s just missing.” Luke very much doubted he was missing either. The poor bastard had probably gone into hiding for a day or two. Looking at the hysterical middle-aged woman on the screen in front of him, he could understand why.

  “He can’t take much more of this, Mr Monroe, they’re watching our house, following him, they’ve tapped the phones, I know it. Leon does too.”

  “Sabine, may I call you Sabine?” Luke smiled and the result was instant, like it always was when he played his part, the charismatic lawyer, cool, calm and immaculately presented in his signature three-piece pinstripe suit. The only thing about him that wasn’t groomed to within an inch of its life was his hair, but he liked the extra length, the tousled texture. Without it he’d just be like all the other corporate assholes.

  “Yes, yes of course you may.”

  “We’re dealing primarily with a standard case of wrongful dismissal. Now I’m well aware of the implications of winning, but when and if that happens, the case will be passed over to the Environmental Protection Agency and I can assure you, your family’s safety will be our top priority.”

  An icon flashing in the corner of Luke’s computer caught his eye at the same time as his phone began to vibrate. Instantly he felt the need to loosen his tie, release the pressure that was tightening around his throat.

  “Look, I’m sorry, Sabine. I’m going to have to leave you with Thomas. I’ll have my secretary forward you the interview schedule for next week.”

  As he disconnected her link, another appeared only to vanish straight away. For a second Luke just sat, staring at the screen, his short, sharp breaths huffing loudly around him as he tried to calm down. It was as though the second he’d made the decision to walk away from the club, from the one thing in his life that he had total control over, everything else had started to fall apart. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t sleep, the stress of the job that he usually thrived on was weighing so fucking heavily on his shoulders, he felt paralyzed beneath it, but he was out of options. He couldn’t continue living the lie his life had become. It was time to face the facts. He wanted so much more than the release of sexual pleasure, the high that came from causing pain. He wanted to capture someone’s heart, to own their soul.

  This time when his phone rang, he grabbed it, recognizing the number instantly.

  “Don’t bother, Gabe, I haven’t changed my mind.” And he hadn’t, if anything, Luke’s decision to walk away felt right, unnervingly so, yet he couldn’t deny the emptiness he felt, or was it loneliness?

  “Two hours, that’s all I’m asking for.”

  Gabe’s deep, gravelly chuckle had Luke grinning, despite his despondency.

  “What?”

  “Intro night, tonight. I’ve got a meeting with the
owner of that site over in Soho, for the new club. I wouldn’t ask, considering our last conversation, but there’s no one else.”

  Luke’s blood started to pump a little faster, his fists clenching. It wasn’t like the usual rush he got at the thought of a night at Bond Street; this was something different. “How many?”

  “Four, possibly five. I’ve got Adam, Trey, Dane and James, but I need a senior master to supervise.”

  “Fuck, and there’s no one else?”

  “It’s two hours, Luke and you never know, one of those subs might be—”

  “Don’t even go there, Gabe. I’m not a fool and I’m done with this. I’ll give you two hours, that’s it.” Luke could hear the slow tap of a cane, no doubt the one Gabe kept on his desk.

  “And then what, have you thought about that?”

  Luke had thought about nothing else. Not the international court case that could make or break his career, not the impending family visit with his sisters who would no doubt ask all the awkward questions they always did, trying to find out why their successful, attractive (their words, not his) older brother was still single when he had women throwing themselves at him on a weekly basis. He’d simply slip into yet another persona, the work obsessed bachelor, too busy for a relationship, and they’d feel sorry for him, suggest he take up a hobby, join a dating site, tell him it was only a matter of time before the right woman came along, then he’d go home and forget all about their well meaning yet condescending advice.

  “No, I haven’t, but don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.” Christ he sounded like a cunt, he really did, but he wasn’t in the mood to be pushed, not with his emotions running so high.

  “I’m serious, Luke, think carefully before you make any decisions. You can’t cut yourself off from this, it’s part of who you are.”

  “I know that, but there has to be more … I need more.”

  “Yeah, I know you do. Just promise me you won’t shut yourself off. There are other ways to meet people, websites you can join—”

  If Gabriel fucking mentioned the word hobby, Luke was going to punch the bastard.