True North (Compass series Book 4) Read online

  I struggle to keep the censorious frown on my face. It’s hard with her all agog. I want to smirk and say, “Fancy seeing you here,” but that’s not allowed either. Luckily, the senator pipes up before I can say anything stupid.

  Looking back and forth between us, Johnson seems to expect a skirmish to erupt. “Mr. Lewis, I believe you know Pressly Allwyn?”

  She leans forward across the table and offers her hand, which I take, shaking for all I’m worth, trying not to grind my teeth while I reply.

  “I do, indeed, Senator.” In the biblical sense, you asshole. “Ms. Allwyn, a pleasure to see you again.”

  She nods silently and then sits down, arranging her piles and pulling out a notebook to flip to a blank page. She looks up expectantly, only a hint of red blooming on her cheeks. “Let’s get on with this then, shall we? We’ve got some ground to cover.”

  I spend the next thirty minutes laying out my reasons why Johnson should support this bill, why it’s good policy for everyone, never mind for his district. For every counterpoint Johnson or his staff bring up, we’ve got answers because we’re prepared. And at the end of the meeting, Johnson does as I knew he would.

  “We’ll have to consider this carefully. You understand this is a pretty large shift in policy, and as much as I’d like to help the veterans in my district, it’s not something I can shake on right here.”

  Of course it’s not, you stuffed shirt sonofabitch. But I tighten my jaw silently and shake his hand on our way out. He turns back to his private office and I turn toward the door, but before I can get very far, a small hand grips my forearm.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Her tetchy whisper isn’t how I’d like to hear Pressly talk to me, but it’s better than nothing so I wave Becky and Naeem ahead of me. “I’ll be there in a minute. Head back without me if you’ve got things to do.”

  They look at me with widened eyes, but when I open my mouth to tell them to get the fuck out, they skedaddle before I can speak. And then Pressly and I are alone in the hallway. Not private, by any means, but good enough.

  “You needed something, Ms. Allwyn?” I keep the sneer out of my voice but barely. It’s seething regret, pure and simple. I’m not angry with her.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my boss’s office, pitching him some bill there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of him supporting? Did you think I’d go to bat for you?”

  “I didn’t know anyone who was going to be at this meeting besides the senator. I didn’t even know you worked for him. And besides, you said it yourself—what’s-his-face got food poisoning. You weren’t even supposed to be here. Do you think I poisoned all the breakfast food in the city in the hope that I’d get to sit in a meeting with you? If anyone spiked that guy’s yogurt, it was you. Did you know I was going to be here?”

  She narrows her eyes, and the corner of my mouth curls up in response. If the shocked drop of her jaw had been any indication, you’d think she’d seen a ghost. So, no, she’d had no idea either. And if she’d wanted to see me, she wouldn’t have had to make someone ill to make that happen.

  “See? This is purely…” Serendipity sounds too positive and she might punch me for it. “…happenstance.”

  “I don’t want to see you here again.” Her tone is harsh, but it’s laced with something else—fear, maybe? Pain? Whatever it is, it sits wrong in my stomach.

  “Press—”

  “No, it’s bad enough that I ran into you at—” She cuts herself off and swings her head, looking for any eavesdroppers. “—you-know-where.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen you, Pressly, since you moved the last of your things out of our townhouse. Like I said, I didn’t even know you worked for Johnson.” Though it makes sense. Johnson and Pa Allwyn move in some of the same old, rich, white Southern power broker circles. I’m sure all it took was a single phone call to get Press a job, and she’s smart and industrious enough to keep it on her own merits. But that’s not the point. “Even if I had known, you know I have about as much control over the meetings I’m needed at as you do. So I suspect we’ll be running into each other again in a professional capacity.”

  I emphasize her name and the word “professional” in the hope that she’ll get it. That she knows I won’t betray her secret, her trust, because I wouldn’t. It’s my reputation too. In that, Rey was 110 percent correct.

  The flame of her fury burns out some, and she relaxes her grip on my arm. “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart. But it’s…” Can I risk saying this? Should I? But what’s there to lose? She’s already walking the tightrope of fear and loathing, and an earnest sentiment isn’t going to do any harm. “…it’s nice to see you again.”

  I hope she realizes that I mean it, that I’ve enjoyed seeing her in action. I liked sitting on the opposite side of that table from her, and only a couple times was I unable to stop my mind from wondering what kind of lingerie she might have on under that prissy designer skirt suit of hers.

  She frowns at me, suspicious, before her expression softens into a reluctant purse of her lips. “It was nice to see you too. But don’t expect me to put in a good word with the senator for you.”

  Though I’m guessing her support would be as good as gold with Johnson, I wouldn’t ask her to do that. Nor would I expect her to without doing her due diligence first. “I wouldn’t dare to dream.”

  She nods, a crisp and adorable dip of her chin, and then she lets me go altogether. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to do on the impact of the bill you just dropped in my lap.”

  With a not-quite flounce, she turns and heads in the opposite direction while I stand there, dumbfounded. There’s nothing I’d rather do than drag her into the nearest coat closet and engage in some, uh, bipartisan activities, but that’s not on my agenda for today. Instead, it’s back to the office to set my sights on the next vote I need to turn.

  Chapter Eight

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  It’s my fourth visit to the Black House. Yeah, it’s taken me two months to get here four times, but that’s with a couple of visits to Rey too, so my education is proceeding apace, despite my insane travel schedule.

  It’s hard to say which I prefer—the one-on-ones with the man himself or the more public atmosphere of the club. I like the quiet and the attention and the privacy when it’s just me and Rey, but the bustle of the club adds energy and—as much as I hate to admit Rey was right—a sense of community. I won’t deny too that I’m drawn by the prospect of catching a glimpse of Pressly, though that hasn’t come to fruition. But Rey had been very specific that today’s visit be on a Wednesday, and in all my stupid optimism, I can’t help but hope it has something to do with Press.

  Rey’s already there when I walk in the door, leaning against the foyer wall and chatting with the greeter. Pushing off the wall and offering me a hand to shake, he smiles. “Hale. Right on time. Good to see you.”

  His words create a trickle of warmth inside me. Good to see me? There aren’t that many people who feel that way. Come to think of it, off the top of my head? Approximately zero. And though a cynical part of me whispers that it’s simply because he’s looking forward to the rather large sum of money I’ll be transferring to him after this session together, another part of me believes him.

  When I go to reply, my throat’s tight, so I settle for a nod. The greeter waves us in and we proceed down the hall.

  “So what’ve you got planned for me tonight?”

  “A tutorial of sorts.”

  “On what?” I’ve had several. Spanking, flogging, manners, paddles. Interspersed with Rey trying to psychoanalyze me, of course. And questioning me about what I’d like to try. With me feeling like I’m about to puke up my guts because, at any second, a camera crew might jump out and yell, “You’re on candid camera!” They would have caught all the evidence of me being this disgusting person, and I wouldn’t even be able to argue because it’s true.

&
nbsp; Ice flows through my veins as I imagine it, but the freezing abates when Rey says, “Restraints.”

  Emotions make war in my head, dread and anxiety taking spears and cudgels to my excitement and curiosity’s swords and truncheons. I stop short in the hall, unable to take another step forward but also unwilling to take a step back.

  Lucky for me, Rey’s arsenal is far more sophisticated than mine, and he drops an atom bomb on my antiquated battlefield. “Come on, Hale. Don’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”

  Ladies? Plural?

  My feet start to move of their own accord, not allowing my brain’s hesitation to slow them. Holy shit.

  Rey shows me to one of the private rooms, one that has dark grey walls, lots of black leather, and gleaming chrome. This is more like what I would’ve expected from a fetish club. There are two women standing in the middle of the room, chatting away. One is a pale, pixie-haired brunette wearing form-fitting black shorts and a complicated-looking sports bra; they’re flattering on her short and muscular build. The other woman’s taller, fleshier, more voluptuous. Her rich brown skin is visible around the straps of an athletic top and below the hem of some cropped yoga pants. They look more like they should be starting a spin class than a bondage demonstration. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned since I started this, it’s that what you wear and what you look like don’t matter a damn.

  They turn upon our approach and have bright smiles and enthusiastic hugs for Rey. I get polite handshakes and feel another stab of envy for the man, though I suppose he’s earned these things. I want to earn them. I want to be worthy of that kind of excitement. Maybe he can teach me how. They introduce themselves as Echo and Venus.

  “Echo’s a very experienced bottom and won’t be shy about letting you know how you can do better. Venus is a longtime switch, so she can offer you feedback from both sides. Ladies, are you ready?” They nod and he smiles, rubbing his devious hands together. “Let’s get started.”

  Rey’s a patient teacher and both Venus and Echo are easygoing models, offering limbs for me to attempt single- and double-column ties, Munter hitches, and a dozen other things. Despite everyone else’s forbearance, after about an hour, frustration and humiliation begin to tighten the muscles of my shoulders and make my fingers clumsy as I try for the hundredth time to form a clove hitch. It shouldn’t be difficult, but I can’t seem to get the hang of it.

  A frustrated rumble makes its way through me, and I catch Venus and Echo giving each other a look. Which makes me even more on edge. I’m about to throw up my hands when Rey grips my shoulder.

  “It’s time to take a walk. You’ve been concentrating hard and you could use a break.”

  It feels like Rey’s conceding defeat in the face of my ineptitude, and it makes my face heat with embarrassment. If even Rey’s giving up on me, I’ve got problems indeed.

  “Ladies, we’ll take twenty and meet you back here.”

  They agree before reaching over to each other’s limbs and untying my work. I run a discouraged hand through my hair, and Rey leans over to say something only I can hear.

  “You need to chill. I know that’s the opposite of your natural inclination, but you’ll be better served by loosening up. Remember rule number two: The first thing a Dominant needs to be in control of is themselves.”

  Rey and his goddamn rules. There must be a hundred of them that he’s dropped during our private sessions or in undertones at the club. I’ve considered making flashcards, but I don’t want to leave evidence of my extracurricular activities lying around, not even in my house.

  He removes his hand before I can shake it off and offers to help me off the floor. If I’d known I’d be sitting on the ground, I would’ve reconsidered the suit, but who am I kidding? It still feels like armor, and I’m not ready to bare my vulnerable underbelly here yet.

  Brushing myself off, I try to clear my head. The thing is, I know he’s right. But giving myself a break isn’t something I’m used to. I’ve always had to push, be better, work harder. Be strong. I’ve been hard-charging for so long I don’t even know how it would feel to put my feet up. There’s also the fear that, if I do, I’ll fall over.

  I shake out my hands and take deep breaths, trying to replace the aggravation in my body with oxygen. And it’s at that moment that I see her. Blonde hair twisted up on her head in some intricate weave, far more complicated than any of the basic ties I’ve been struggling with, and wearing a flowing white babydoll dress. And holy hell, those shoes. Gold with ribbons that crisscross her shins and tie just below her knees.

  She bounces over to Rey, flings herself into his arms, and he catches her easily, spinning her around. When he does, I notice an image of feathers on the bare skin of her back. Bright white and shiny metallic—someone’s painted wings onto her shoulder blades. She’s an angel.

  Letting go of Rey, she slides down his body and turns to me, a guarded smile on her face as she looks me up and down with those eyes. The brilliant blue is emphasized by the drawn-on gold wings gracing her temples and the heavy white liner ringing her eyes. She barely looks like she’s from this planet.

  “Hale. You’re back.”

  “Yeah.” Ugh, stupid.

  “He’s getting to be a regular, actually,” Rey offers when it becomes clear that the power of speech has basically deserted me.

  “That so?”

  “We just came from Rope 101 with Echo and Venus. What are you up to this evening?”

  She rubs her hands together and bounces on her heels. “Spider’s in town.”

  Rey shoots her an indulgent smile, and they proceed to catch up while I stand there wishing I weren’t tongue-tied. It’s only a couple of minutes, but it feels like an eternity in the fires of hell before she’s going up on her toes to kiss Rey’s cheek.

  “I’m headed home early tomorrow, but I’ll give you a call next week?”

  She nods and then slides her gaze over to me. “And what about you, Hale?”

  “Me?” It’s not impossible that she’s being polite, but I could almost always tell when we had to socialize with people she actually found intolerable. “I–I’m hoping to be back the week after next. Travel permitting.”

  She nods and licks her pink shimmery lips. “Then maybe I’ll see you. If you’re here on Wednesday anyway.”

  My mouth falls open, and I must freeze for a few seconds because there’s a swift elbow in my ribs. I barely hold off coughing, but instead manage to locate my brain. “I’d like that.”

  There’s that small hesitant smile again, and then she says it: “Me too.”

  My heart slams on the brakes in my chest, screeching to a halt. She wants to see me again? Here?

  Before I can stop, the word flies out of my mouth. “Why?”

  I catch Rey gently shaking his head out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t break my connection with Pressly, whose cheeks have turned a divine shade of pink. She rolls her lips between her teeth and tilts her head. “Because we may have been a trainwreck as husband and wife, but I know it’s easier if you know people here. And I don’t wish you ill. Anymore.”

  Her amendment makes my stomach heave, but it’s more than I deserve for driving her away. It’s probably gratitude for her generosity that make the words bubble out of my mouth before I can stuff them back down. “I never wished you anything but the best.”

  Her eyes go wide, and Rey full-on turns toward me. Yeah, well, that surprised the hell out of me too.

  “Well…” Press fumbles. “I should go. Spider. Waiting.”

  She jerks a thumb toward an open door down the hall but blinks at me twice more before she spins and marches away.

  *

  An hour later, I’m thanking Echo and Venus for being my guinea pigs. We all head out to the main room, and they find seats with a few tops I recognize. Rey steers me toward a small empty table in the corner and tells me to sit while he grabs drinks.

  I’m too tired to argue so I drop back into a chair and survey the
room. A few people even offer me waves, which I return, and then Rey’s back, handing me a glass of something clear and bubbly with a lime wedge at the top. Sadly, I know there won’t be any gin in it when I lift it to my lips. The drink tastes good, though. Cold and crisp and fizzy enough to give me a lift.

  “I thought that went well.”

  “Yeah. Press is a class act. Always has been.” The corner of Rey’s mouth kicks up, and I can tell he’s smothering a laugh. “What?”

  “I was talking about your crash course in rope bondage, but we can talk about Sprite instead.”

  At that, I scowl and take another deep draught of the tonic. I set the glass down when I finish and tap my nails against it, deciding whether to go for it or not. Rey doesn’t say anything, just sits there waiting, like he could do this all night. He probably could. And will if I keep being a stubborn fuck, which would be embarrassing. Like a kid sitting in front of a plate of broccoli he just won’t eat.

  “Do you think she’d ever play with me?”

  Rey’s expression doesn’t betray anything as one of his long fingers wipes a line of condensation from his glass. “Eventually.”

  But not yet. “Because she’s not ready or I’m not?”

  “I think she’s willing, and if it were someone else, I might say you were ready too. But with your ex-wife? It’s not like your divorce was exactly amicable. It’s been a while, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was pretty soul-shredding. At least for her and I’m guessing for you too, though I doubt you let her in on that. I would urge you to put a great deal of thought into why your marriage ended and whether starting whatever kind of relationship this is going to be is a good idea before you try to vault that goat.”

  I’m distracted by his valid-but-still-annoying advice and his odd turn of phrase. “Vault that what?”

  “Goat.” He says it with the same certainty he says everything else, and for a second I’m convinced I’m the one who’s been getting that expression wrong my whole life. But no.