Fearless (Elite Doms of Washington Book 5) Read online

  Laurent inhaled a lungful of air scented with auto fumes, briny river water, and tacos from a Mexican food truck down the river walk. It did little to tamp down his memory of Sarah’s perfume—of her entire erotic package for that matter. How did any man not want in her life? So polished, so beautiful, so intelligent, so … everything.

  His mind whirled with things he could do for her. She looked tired, but not the kind that one good night’s sleep would take care of. No, she needed taking care of, period. If only she’d let him. He loved serving women, making sure they didn’t overextend themselves, which they always did. Service was the ultimate soul boost for him. Without someone to help, his self-worth didn’t just take a hit—it plummeted.

  He had a sixth sense about people—a radar for who needed him. Sarah needed … something. Of course, his radar had been a tad banged up in recent years. Still, she seemed so isolated. He pushed down that ache that thrummed in his chest when he thought how alone people really were in the world. If they only knew how much helping others was the answer they sought from all those shopping trips, yoga retreats, and books on happiness that people devoured. He understood the temporary boost of an Armani suit or a circle of diamonds around a finger, but it didn’t make a life.

  He never wanted anyone to suffer the self-destructive despair that haunted him when loneliness and a lack of purpose overtook him. He was grateful for his unwavering friendship with Steffan, but Laurent needed more, a Mistress and that one-on-one interaction when you evoked her entire regard. He was certain Sarah could be the one. He also believed she could be the one for Steffan.

  He rose. Time to stroll through the crowded streets of Georgetown to the townhome he and Steffan might buy. There was time enough to explore how he might make more inroads with Sarah, the first step in his plan. She seemed willing to at least consider him. Right now, he couldn’t ask for more. He’d fallen too deeply into himself over the last few years—made some bad choices. He and Steffan both had, so it was time to set them all on a new course, one that sustained all three of them.

  5

  Steffan stepped into the slash of sunshine that cut across the hardwood floors of the vacant living room and pointed to the fireplace.

  “Works?” he asked the leggy blonde realtor.

  “Absolutely. There are a few cords of wood in the back that convey.” She leaned against the fireplace and crossed one slim ankle over the other. “Where did you say you were from again?” She cocked her head. She’d been eyeing him from the second they shook hands in front of the For Sale sign outside.

  “Stockholm. I hear DC winters are mostly slush and rain.”

  “Oh, we get the odd snowfall. It shuts the city down. Nothing left for you and Laurent to do but curl up before a fire.”

  Ah, she’d been trying to figure out if he was gay. He was used to people assuming he and Laurent were lovers. It didn’t matter to him if she knew the truth or not.

  “Unless you have a girlfriend …” Her lips curled into a coy smile.

  Laurent’s horse-clomp footsteps sounded above him.

  “Hardwoods above?” He pointed to the ceiling. Noisy, but they could be charming if they’d been finished as nicely as the ones on which he now stood.

  “Yes, I could show you—”

  “Score!” Laurent called from upstairs. “You were right, Penelope. Unexpectedly good closet space for an old house.”

  “You and your clothes,” he called up as he headed toward the kitchen. Score, indeed. He paused in the arched doorway.

  “Stainless steel appliances, quartz counter-tops,” Penelope said behind him.

  A large island that could seat four people sat in the center and anchored his decision. They were moving in as soon as possible. Hotel rooms and restaurants were depressing.

  She squeezed by him in the doorway—slowly. Her breasts brushed against his arm. “Oh, excuse me,” she said.

  If all women in DC were going to be this forthcoming, he was going to have to consider spreading a few untrue rumors about himself and Laurent. Women were bold in Sweden but paled to what he’d encountered to date here.

  A quick glance out the window showed an endless stream of BMWs and Audis passing by on the narrow one-way, tree-lined street.

  “Parking?” he asked.

  “Two parking spaces in back. So unusual for this neighborhood. I expect this property will be snatched up today, so—”

  “Well, can we?” Laurent’s jubilant voice broke into the room.

  “We can.” He turned to Penelope. “We’ll take it.”

  “Excellent. I’ll draw up the contract later this morning and break open the champagne.”

  Laurent scanned the kitchen. “I guess we’re going to Kitchen Emporium for more appliances? I know you can’t stand empty counter space. Plus, you need to dazzle Sarah with your cooking skills.”

  Penelope’s face fell. “I’ll call you later once everything’s in order.”

  “Thank you,” Laurent said. “May I walk you to your car?”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful.” Now free of her affections, Laurent could deal with her. Laurent winked at him before following Penelope out.

  Laurent didn’t usually play interference, but Steffan welcomed it today. He wasn’t in the mood for flirtations, not when he had so much to settle in coming weeks—for Water Wise, for Laurent, for their lives here. He wasn’t sure a year was going to do it now, faced with a dawning reality of Washington, DC. Everyone moved so quickly yet did anything really progress? He’d expected Accendos to have a vetting process, but Jesus …

  A courier had dropped off a set of forms to their hotel that would rival the merger of two banks, though the questions they asked on their questionnaires were far more interesting. Medical background, mandatory STD tests, hard limits, soft limits, instruments preferred, references … the list of what they required made his head spin. Then, there was the hefty annual fee for the privilege of baring one’s sexual soul. In addition to Sarah and Alexander, the other five Tribunal Council members—Derek and the others he hadn’t yet met, Jonathan Brond, Ryan Knightbridge, Carson Drake and Marcos Santos—would soon know everything about him and Laurent. He supposed that’s why Alexander’s band of merry Dominants were known as the best in the scene, never allowing abusers in their midst. Thank god. He’d had enough of those.

  Steffan strode to the slider and stepped out onto a small terrace littered with sticks and white cherry blossoms.

  Alexander answered on the second ring. “Steffan.”

  “Alexander. Catching you a bad time?”

  “Not at all. I trust our membership package arrived today.”

  “Yes, you’ll have it back by tomorrow. I’d also like to thank you for allowing Laurent and I to be at Accendos these past few days even though we’re not members.” He and Laurent had the full tour—a house even larger on the inside than the outside projected—and been allowed to observe the play of others. Without a Tribunal Council member in attendance or formal permission from Alexander, they were still forbidden to play themselves.

  “You can thank Sarah for that,” Alexander said. “She suggested you and Laurent come to Charlotte’s collaring ceremony—if we can get your probationary status in order.”

  Oh, really? Sarah certainly was taking her time filling him in.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t met Charlotte. Are you sure?”

  “All members are invited. It will still be an intimate gathering with a small after-party,” Alexander continued. “I trust you’d be interested?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Why don’t you come around to lunch, say Wednesday at noon? That suit your schedule?”

  Steffan knew enough about Accendos that turning down Alexander wasn’t an option, and at least it meant something was moving forward. He itched to get established. “Perfect.”

  It was more than perfect. He had some questions of his own—about Sarah. Something wasn’t quite right. She had a rigidity he hadn’t ex
perienced from her before. She’d grown … armored. Then again, what did he really know about her other than she moaned deliciously during orgasm and her attention to rules and protocols rivaled the Queen of England?

  He killed the call and returned inside to find Laurent sitting on the island.

  “Has Sarah called you?” Laurent sounded so eager. He didn’t blame him. Steffan wanted to see her again, too.

  “No. How was your interview with her?”

  “Interesting. I think she’d love your cinnamon buns. We should do brunch … here.” Laurent swept his arms wide over the island.

  “No details, hmm? Well, your interview is your business.”

  Laurent gave him one of his lop-sided smiles that had charmed the pants off hundreds of women—and men. “She’s going to ask you if it’s okay for us to move forward. She wants to play.” He averted his eyes.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to explore all three of us together. She seems to want to play alone, however.”

  “Of course she does.” He had badly miscalculated a few things—first, making their appearance a surprise and second, assuming they could pick up where they left off. Her ambivalence toward him didn’t dampen her appeal, however, which annoyed. He wasn’t one to run after anyone.

  “You’re okay with this, right? I mean you two did have a thing,” Laurent said.

  “Of course.” He’d get over her refusal to co-top. “You get your school application in?” Laurent was going for his degree in physical therapy and classes started soon. Laurent needed to be occupied, or he’d go nuts.

  “Signed, sealed, delivered.”

  “Good, listen, I have another call to make. Start ordering furniture. I know you’re dying to.”

  He hopped off the counter. “On it.”

  Steffan fingered his phone. What the hell. Waiting wasn’t his style. He dialed Sarah’s number, and it immediately went to voice mail.

  “Sarah, checking in,” he said into her mailbox. “Give me a call.” He wouldn’t betray Laurent’s confidence, but he wouldn’t betray his own common sense, either. Despite her obvious dismissal of him, he needed to know what she was up to. She was going to talk with him, but playing alone with Laurent? She hadn’t mentioned that to him, and she should have. So, no, not until she revealed her desires and plans more directly. If she was considering Laurent, he had to know she understood the depth of Laurent’s longings to be of use, to belong, not to mention his reckless neglect of his own safety. Sure, Laurent was better now—less apt to self-harm from his excessive need to serve—but he could fall in love and then what? Another deep loss could cripple his friend. He knew first-hand how Sarah’s attention could spellbind a man. Hell, he felt that tug toward her now despite her rebuffs. Then again when had that ever stopped him from going after what he wanted? He hadn’t amassed his philanthropic-bound fortune without taking risks. None of those involved his heart so directly, however. Shit, he was going to have to tread carefully around this unfolding scenario—starting with getting more information on the motivations of a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.

  6

  Sarah tapped her foot. The barista moved slowly today. Sarah had an hour before her next appointment, but her need for caffeine this morning eclipsed any patience she could muster. Thanks to another restless evening, she’d never live through another of Christiana’s bridal gown fittings un-caffeinated. She’d woken up three times from dreams, fantasies about Laurent and a certain Swede.

  “She did what?” Jonathan, her stepbrother, stepped through the door of the coffee shop, his familiar voice turning heads as he barked into his phone. He was hard to ignore given his fame in this town.

  He lifted his chin at her.

  “Coffee?” she mouthed and pointed to the counter.

  “Please,” he mouthed back. He inclined his head to an empty table and took a seat. Finally making it to the head of the line, she retrieved their usual orders—espresso for her and cappuccino for Jonathan, and lowered herself across from him. He spun his cell phone with his finger on the table top.

  “Having a bad day?” she asked.

  He scrubbed his chin. “Things have been a little tense at home.”

  “What has my mother done now?” Claire Marillioux Brond had married Jonathan’s father when they were both young, and the woman could not stop interfering in Jonathan’s life, especially since her stepbrother was having what her mother had declared the “wedding of the century.” The fact that Sarah was still single, which has been Claire’s greatest life disappointment to date, was also a factor.

  “What hasn’t she done? She’s taken over an event Christiana never wanted in the first place. Now Christiana is talking about postponing again … I mean, Christ, we’re three months out …”

  “She’ll marry you, Jay.” She placed her hand on his wrist. She’d added more older-sister vibe in her tone than she’d meant, but his nervousness wasn’t merited. “She’s doing what the very young do, questioning everything.”

  And being intimidated by my steam-roller mother. Jonathan, the golden boy of Washington, had fallen for one of the “common people” and had given up his seat in Congress for Christiana. Washington, D.C. didn’t trust true love—neither its existence nor its ability to stick. Rather, they lined up waiting for the impending train wreck. More than most, she wholly understood their suspicion, but this was her stepbrother, whom she loved more than life.

  “I get it. She wants to explore the world before tying herself down, but it has been three years.” He took a large gulp of his drink, wincing at the heat.

  “Jay, why have a wedding at all? I’ve never seen a woman so in love as Christiana is with you. Elope.”

  “She might regret not having a wedding later, and I won’t allow Claire to ruin if for her. Someday you’ll understand.”

  “I doubt that.” She’d never don a wedding gown or tie herself to one man.

  “Sarah.” Jonathan’s tone softened, and he drew a breath to speak.

  “Stop. Don’t,” she warned. He wisely took a sip of his coffee instead. Jonathan was one of the few people in the world who knew how and why she’d become whom she was today—how she’d carefully crafted her life after … well, just after. She’d learned her lesson well.

  “How goes it with the new male sub, Laurent?” Jonathan asked. “Yes, Derek filled me in.”

  Glad of the change of subject, she responded with a roll of the eyes, “Of course he did. Well, I’m about to find out. Laurent’s offered himself. Nearly begged, actually.”

  “Begged? Already he knows the way to your heart. And, the other new guy. Steffan? How goes it with him?”

  “Fine, I suppose. I haven’t seen him since Alexander asked me to do the initial interview.” His curt voice mail an hour ago didn’t count.

  He eyed her. “I ran into Steffan in the hallway. Said he was pleased to finally meet Sarah’s brother. Made me wonder if you two knew each other.”

  “We’ve met before.”

  “Anything I need to know before Tribunal Council deliberations?” His eyebrow arched.

  “Just the usual arrogance and control issues.”

  “Stop talking about me.”

  She chuckled. Jonathan always could make her laugh. She finished her espresso and rose. “Love you, Jay. Now, I must go do battle with my mother so you may have the wedding of your dreams.” She pecked him on the cheek.

  “You sure you’re okay, Sarah?” He grabbed her wrist stopping her and gave her a searching look.

  “I’m fine.” She hated worrying him. She slipped from his hold and smiled. “I didn’t sleep well last night. See you at the Tribunal Council meeting, if not before.” After the meeting, she’d return Steffan’s call. She needed time to consider Laurent’s desires and her own. Their parachute into Washington with an intriguing, albeit, disconcerting offer required careful maneuvering. She also refused to be forced to choose before she was ready or taken down some garden path she didn’t
agree to. No, this situation required all her strategic thinking before it turned into a predicament.

  She’d always been comfortable with her power—and known how it could be the undoing of others if she weren’t careful. Laurent’s face sprang up in her mind—and Steffan’s warning. His need to serve overtakes his sense of self-preservation. Well, not if she had anything to do with it.

  As soon as she stepped outside, her cell phone rang.

  “Hi, Yvette. Don’t tell me you’re bailing on the dress fitting.” Her best female friend and one of Christiana’s bridesmaids had a way with her mother, soothing and appeasing her in a way Sarah never had been able to. Sarah and her mother were like gasoline meeting a brushfire.

  “I would never. You need reinforcements. No, I’m calling to make sure you’re coming to my event tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone asked to sit next to you, and I know how you hate surprises. Steffan Vidar? He says you’re old friends.”

  “My, how the man gets around,” she muttered under her breath. Yvette was the most successful fundraising consultant in Washington. Of course, he’d find his way to her.

  “Yvette, I’ll be at my fitting studio in five minutes. We’ll talk then.” She killed the call, prayed her new car lived up to its reputation for speed, and that her mother was late.

  Jesus, so much for deep thinking. Why had Steffan asked to sit next to her at Yvette’s fundraising dinner? How had he known she was even going? If he could find her schedule, he certainly could have found her phone number and warned her he was in town. He either wanted her unsettled or he’d been afraid she’d say “no” to talking with him? She dismissed the latter. Steffan didn’t seem to be the type of man who was afraid of much. She concluded he wanted her off guard. How cute. He would be sorely disappointed then.

  First, however, she had to have an awkward conversation with Yvette. She’d never told her about Steffan, and she didn’t want to now—especially since she had a countermove to plan. However, perhaps Yvette could help. The answer was so easy she laughed aloud at herself. She knew exactly what to do. The answer to sitting next to her? No. She had something better in mind.