their relationship had been strained because of an operation where Ian chose to save his brother’s life over Grace’s. Grace had survived, but Ian wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Sean, however, was slow to forgive. “Don’t you dare. Just try to get Alex here as fast as possible. I’m going to go and just reassure myself that he’s all right.”
“I don’t think he’s okay,” Ryan said, opening the door again.
“Sweet Child O’ Mine” blasted through the club. The guitar riffs reached a crescendo and then went silent. Eve breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god. That’s way too loud.”
“Oh, wait for it,” Ryan said.
The song started again. “Does he have it on autoplay ?”
“Yep, and he’s threatened to shoot me if I turn it off. I haven’t seen a gun, but I don’t doubt he has one hidden somewhere.” Ryan sighed. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what to do. I would leave him be, but the rest of my staff is going to be here in a couple of hours to start setting up. Should I cancel the scenes for tonight?”
And be forced to explain why? “No. Let me talk to him. Can you turn it down a little? Just a smidge. He might not notice.”
They walked through the lobby, and she caught sight of Ian. Well, the back of him. He’d taken a chair and placed it in the center of the stage. He was directly facing the St. Andrew’s Cross, his back to the rest of the club. He’d taken off his jacket, and she could see that he’d rolled up his sleeves. A glass with a couple of fingers of amber-colored liquid was in his right fist, the bottle on the floor beside him.
And the energy coming off him was righteously bad.
Yeah, he wasn’t okay.
Ian had been Alex’s best friend most of their lives. He wasn’t a big talker. She’d never had a therapy session with him. Ian’s version of therapy was very different. He wouldn’t talk about what was wrong. He would drink and apparently listen to metal ballads.
But in the end, she couldn’t treat him like a patient. She had to treat him like a friend, or better, a Master. Those other subs had probably tried to offer him sex. He didn’t need that. Half the time she wondered if there was an actual submissive bone in their bodies.
Sometimes a Dom needed a sub for way more than sex. Maybe it was time to start getting that part of her life back, too.
She kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her jacket, folding it and putting it on a table. She pulled out the pins in her hair as she stared at Ian.
Ryan was watching her with his arms crossed. “The other subs tried.”
“The other subs don’t love him. That man has basically been my big brother for most of my adult life. I’m not going to offer him my body, Ryan. He would vomit. But I can offer him something else. Now get them out of here. You should leave, too.”
Ryan frowned. “I don’t know about that. He might be the boss, but I’m the Dom in Residence and I’m responsible for the safety of every sub here.”
And sometimes she just couldn’t be submissive. “And I own a piece of the club. It might not be the biggest chunk, but I’m still a founding member.” She softened a little. “Ryan, I appreciate it, but Ian Taggart, for all his bluster, wouldn’t hurt a sub. Never. And he definitely won’t hurt me. Please. You called me here for a reason. Let me do my job.”
He gestured to the three women huddled together, and they moved toward him like a small herd of baby chicks. God, they were young. When the hell did everyone get so young?
One of the girls was crying, her mascara in streaks down her face. “I’m sorry, Sir. I tried.”
Ryan shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t in the mood for a lap dance.”
“But the music really lends itself to dancing,” the blonde said. “I just wish every Dom was as nice as Master Alex. He would never call a woman a skank.”
“Well, in Master Ian’s defense, he had asked you to stop and then you took off your top,” Ryan argued.
“I