Make Me Shiver

Chapter Eight

It started with flowers.

Despite the fact that Michael drove her home, he didn’t press the issue when Lacey informed him that she needed time to think things over. Instead he dropped her off without asking to come inside, told her he’d have her car brought to her the next day and said that she’d hear from him soon.

She’d spent the day thinking things over but wasn’t able to come to any definitive conclusions.

The very next morning as she sat down to return emails and reschedule the work she’d missed, she heard a knock on her door. Considering she was nowhere near town, she was impressed when she learned that not only had her vehicle been returned but a florist was waiting on her porch to present her with a large bouquet of roses.

The crystalline vase housing the flowers was squared, the etchings along the rim done by hand.

There were a dozen roses total—six white and six red. After she closed the door and placed the arrangement on her coffee table, she examined the envelope. It was plain and white, without any adornments. Once she’d pulled open the flap and removed the card she discovered one word: Limousine.

Her breath caught and she ran her fingers along the cursive handwriting, recognizing the clear penmanship. Michael had written the note himself. She had no idea what it meant.

That was on Tuesday.

On Wednesday she received another floral arrangement, this time with a dozen yellow and pink blooms, and another plain card with Michael’s handwriting that stated Seven o’clock.

She was tempted to call Michael and learn where he was going with his flowers and cryptic messages. Unfortunately her agent got wind of her request for a change in legal representation. That meant she spent a majority of her day on the phone, arguing over logistics and explaining exactly why it was she refused to remain the client of a cheating pig bastard.

On Thursday the florist arrived again, this time with a massive teddy bear. As she took the stuffed animal and accepted the envelope that came along with it, she felt her resolve crumbling. Aside from his cards, there had been no contact between them. She’d asked for space and he’d given her what she asked for. Opening the envelope, she found there was a single word scribbled across the surface of the card inside: Tomorrow.

Although she didn’t know what he had in store, it wasn’t difficult to put Limousine, Seven o’clock and Tomorrow together. Whatever was coming, she decided she wanted to be prepared.

Getting her hair done and legs waxed was easy, it was shopping that took more time than she would have liked. Was this a date of some kind? Or did Michael have something wickedly naughty up his sleeve? After choosing a simple black dress with gossamer sleeves and satin cuffs at the wrists, she went to the shoe store, purchased two pairs of shoes—red and black patent leather heels—and stopped by an exclusive and extremely expensive lingerie shop for a corset, panty, garter and stocking set. While she was there, she also chose a few of the same items in different colors. Considering she hadn’t worn that kind of thing since college, her underwear drawer needed an update. Besides, a girl could never be too prepared.

She felt different as she stood before the dressing room mirror clothed in nothing but skimpy garments and fuck-me-silly heels. Never before had she dared to dress so provocatively. How would Michael react when he saw her like this? Or would he seize the opportunity at all?

On Friday morning she was awake and ready as a car pulled into her driveway. Only this time it wasn’t a florist who greeted her—the man who knocked on her door worked for Rosie’s Jewelry.

The sleek automobile stopped in front of her home and a man dressed in a suit stepped out.

Whatever he was carrying was compact enough to fit inside a small bag he carried with his gloved fingers and was expensive enough that it required a signature. After she signed for the package and thanked him, the man gave her a smile, told her to have a nice day and off he went.

When she sat down on her sofa, removed the rectangular box from the bag and found a thin white gold-and-diamond-encrusted choker with the note Wear This, she knew it was time to make a phone call. If she was going to see where a relationship with Michael would take her, she needed to be armed with information that no mere Google search could provide. There was only one source who could give her the answers she needed most.

Candice seemed nervous— too nervous—when Lacey invited her to an early lunch. Fortunately, she accepted when Lacey told her it was important. Now, seated at one of the rear booths of the trendy Rolo’s Café, Lacey watched and waited for her friend to arrive. Deep down she knew that Candice was holding out on her. If she was being honest, she’d known her friend was holding something back the night Candy had warned her to steer clear of Michael unless she was into kinky sex. The only reason she hadn’t questioned Candy about how she knew so much was because it wasn’t her business. Not to mention if it involved Candice’s job, she’d be given the proper and well-deserved kiss-off. In light of recent events, however, Lacey decided to take all the information she could get—even if it meant crossing a line.

When Candice arrived she was weighed down by her usual gadgets—cell phone, laptop and camera. She was one of the best investigative reporters in the city for a damn good reason. Spotting Lacey, she hurried over and began pulling multiple straps from her torso. As she slid into the booth she placed her belongings on the floor near her feet.

“All right, spill.” Candy sighed as she relaxed in her seat. “I had to ditch a kick-ass lead to meet you. This had better be good.”

Taking a deep breath, Lacey recalled the speech she’d made in the mirror earlier in the morning. There was no time like the present to get the answers she wanted.

“I need you to tell me how you knew about Michael.”

Candy looked up, obviously alarmed as the smile slipped from her face. She quickly recovered, hiding her shock with a faint laugh. “Knew what about Michael?”

“Don’t do that. Not to me.” Lacey smoothed her fingers over the expensive tablecloth, tearing her gaze away from her friend’s face. “I’m not asking you to divulge personal details about your sex life or give me the inside scoop on a story. I’m asking you to tell me— a friend—how you found out about Michael and his lifestyle.”

“What’s with the sudden interest? What made you decide a relationship with Michael is worth exploring?” Candy continued acting as if she didn’t understand—a helpful device perfected as an investigator.

“He’s weakened my resolve this week with gifts.” Lacey retrieved the box resting in her lap along with the simple card and extended them to Candice. “Michael sent this to me today. I think I know what it means but I could be wrong. I can’t be wrong about this, Candy. I have to be certain.”

Lacey could hear Candice swallow as she read the card, opened the box and glanced inside.

“What makes you think I’d know anything?”

“Because you’re the best at what you do, and if you were investigating or interested in the BDSM community—” Lacey stopped, worried she might go too far if she implied anything further, and searched for the right way to phrase what she needed to say. “You would have done your research. You always do.”

A waitress started to walk past and Candice sat the box and card on the table and flagged her down. “Bring me a cosmo.”

Lacey had never seen Candice drink during the day. Not even during college.

“Candy?”

“Not yet.” She lifted a hand, shaking her head. “Not yet, Lace.”

They sat in silence until her drink arrived. Candy didn’t waste any time, throwing back the alcohol like a seasoned wino. When the glass was empty, she hunched over, pulled her purse from the floor and rummaged around in it until she produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“When did you start smoking again?” Lacey gawked in disbelief when Candice put the filter between her lips, lit up and puffed through the side of her mouth like a pro. Lacey glanced around in panic and whispered in a rush, “Are you crazy? You can’t smoke in here! Put that out!”

“Do you remember when I was working that case in Nashville involving the bootlegged moonshine?” Candice exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

The question caught Lacey off guard, especially since she was afraid they’d be busted and hauled off to jail at any moment for breaking the smoking laws. Nodding and waving her hand to ward off the fumes, she answered, “Vaguely.”

Candy took another drag of her cigarette before she said, “It turned out to be a bust due to some family grudge that left me deep in the shit. At the time I was desperate for a story. Gerald had just gotten a big break on the drug bust in Rhea County and Archie was close to cracking the name of the gang responsible for the heist at First Franklin. When I went to scrounge for something I was offered a nice check to do an exposé piece on a super-exclusive club in Nashville—a fetish club.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.” A very stern voice interrupted their conversation as the manager of the restaurant walked up to the booth. “You can’t smoke that in here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Candy muttered, took one final puff and put the cigarette out in her glass of water. “Satisfied?” The warning look she shot the manager was enough to encourage him to leave but it left Lacey uneasy. Candice relied on her quick wit and unshakable control to do her job. Behaving like a rebellious teenager was completely out of character.

“So you met Michael at the fetish club?”

“Not exactly. I needed a cover, and the list of members I was given was slim. Mike was the easiest person to approach.”

“I have a difficult time believing Michael would help you.”

“He didn’t want to.” Reaching across the table, Candy helped herself to Lacey’s untouched glass of water. “It took a little persuasion.”

“What did you do?”

Candy took a large swallow before she answered. “I told him I would keep the identities of every person I came into contact with completely confidential if he got me in and let me mingle undisturbed.”

“And if he didn’t?”

“I’d find another source and reveal all.”

“You blackmailed him?” Lacey was shocked at the fury she felt as she came to Michael’s defense.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“Jesus, Candy.”

“It wasn’t so bad. Everyone came out clean. Mikey Boy wasn’t thrilled but he knew that if he didn’t agree I’d find another way in. Do you have any idea how many politicians like being ordered around and led on leashes? Those are the kinds of names you don’t want spread around.” Candice laughed softly. “That’s why I chose Mike. There was no way the other people on the shortlist would have considered helping me out. It started out totally innocent. I mean, sure, some of it was hot—barely clad men, sex scenes performed right out in the open. You name it and I probably saw it. But it was a job, you know? I’ve investigated worse.”

Lacey continued her questioning carefully, proceeding with caution. “So what happened?”

“On my final night, I met someone.” Candice’s expression screamed conflict and uncertainty.

She shook her head as if shaking off the memory. “That part’s not important.” She met Lacey’s concerned gaze. “Listen, kiddo. If you want to know if Mike’s a good guy, I can only tell you that of all of the Doms I met at Fantasia, he was the one I would have trusted most. He was seeing someone at the time, and even though she didn’t mind sharing if that’s what he wanted, he did mind, which gives him major brownie points in my opinion. There were a few times when he played with her in public but sex was never involved. For the most part he seemed interested in being around his friends in the establishment.”

“And the necklace?” Lacey motioned at the box resting on the table.

“If I were a betting woman, I’d put money down that he wants to take you to the club or maybe a very private play party. Collars vary, but anything around the neck inside Fantasia means you’re spoken for and off limits. The people who host parties of their own are usually members of the club and follow the same protocol. There’s no way he’d allow you to enter either without one. If I learned one thing about Mike, it’s that he’s possessive.”

Lacey retrieved the box and opened it, staring down at the rows of sparkling stones. “I don’t know what to do.”

She didn’t expect Candice to respond. The idiot jock who broke her heart in college had ensured she didn’t have much faith in relationships or men. So she was slightly stunned when she did.

“Do you love him?”

Sighing, she closed the box. There it was. The big question. The one she’d asked herself more than once. Logic and reality told her it was too soon, but she’d never felt this way about anyone before.

“I hardly know him.”

“Allow me to rephrase. Could you love him? If the kink wasn’t an issue, could you see yourself with him in the long term?”

“The kink isn’t the issue.” Lacey was amazed at how easy it was to admit and felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders despite Candice’s questioning look.

“So what’s holding you back?”

“I don’t ever want to feel like that again—facing some woman from his past. It wasn’t like meeting an ex-girlfriend or lover. This…” She tried to construct her thoughts. “It was beyond humiliating.

I get sick just thinking about it.”

“Then you’re going to have to decide if he’s worth taking a chance on.”

“Like you did with your mystery lover?”

“We’re not talking about me.”

Candice seemed relieved when their waitress arrived to take their orders. As the server walked away she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, which was buzzing madly. One glance at the screen and Candice began spewing a line of obscenities under her breath.

Lacey studied her closely. “So you’ve been busy this week?”

“You could say that.”

“Every time I tried you at home this week you were out.” She kept her tone light, hoping her friend wouldn’t see where she was going with the conversation.

Candice snorted. “Thus is the life of an investigative reporter. When duty calls, thou must answer the summons.”

“So you were working earlier?”

“Yes, Lacey.” Candice ran her fingers across the screen of her phone. “In order to pay the bills, I have to put on my big girl panties and go to work.”

“When I called you today, I had to leave a voice mail.”

“Yeah, and?” Candice shrugged, staring at the screen. “I called you back.”

“You’re always at home when you’re not working, and you never send your calls to voice mail.”

“I could be turning over a new leaf in life.”

“Or you could be hiding something.”

Candice snorted. “I think someone is trying to play at my job.”

Lacey’s memory of Candice’s odd behavior when the police officer arrived at her apartment surfaced. She’d been distracted by everything that had happened between her and Michael that morning, but not so much that she didn’t see the look that passed between her best friend and the enormous man in uniform. And Michael obviously knew Officer Stone. Their conversation had been too casual for the men to have been mere business associates.

A dawning comprehension brought it all together.

“No, you’re not hiding something.” Lacey gazed at Candice with a knowing look. “You’re hiding from someone.”

“I told you this isn’t about—”

“About you, I know.” Lacey sat back. “It’s about the ginormous police officer who responded to the disturbance call at your apartment.”

It had been years since she’d seen Candy frazzled and off balance. In fact, Lacey could pinpoint the last time she’d witnessed the cool and collected reporter without her security blanket of control—the night she’d lost her virginity to an asshole who wooed her, gained her trust and fucked her as part of a pledge to his fraternity. After he’d revealed what he’d done he’d kicked her out of his room to do the march of shame from his dorm. That one joke had irrevocably changed a girl who had once been eager to smile at a stranger and trust the opposite sex. Overnight, a disillusioned woman took her place. A woman who didn’t believe in love, relationships or the good in man.

Candice started collecting her belongings and pulled cash from her wallet. “I’m not discussing this right now. I’ve got a lot of shit to do.”

Lacey reached out to stop her and Candice shrugged away from her touch as she rose from the table and threw two twenty-dollar bills on the table.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” Candy adjusted the numerous straps over her shoulders, the motions of her hands jerky. “You wanted to know about Michael Gilchrist? Here you go. He’s a nice guy. I worked the piece for two weeks and in that time he was never anything but a total fucking gentleman. Someone like me doesn’t trust men but I know he has feelings for you. I could see it in the way he looked at you at Haddie’s. I was just worried that the rosy gloss was an act, and I didn’t want him to hurt you. Knowing what I do now, I never should have said a word.”

Candice’s cell started buzzing again. “Goddamn it!” She yanked the phone out of her pocket, pressed a couple of buttons and stared at the screen. What she saw caused her cheeks to turn red and her lips compress. “You ballsy son of a bitch.”

“Who is it?”

“Nothing.” Candice didn’t look up from the phone.

Again, nothing like the Candy she knew. Her friend was totally avoiding her question, and she was doing it on purpose. “I didn’t ask what it was, I asked who it was.”

Candice looked at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s none of your business.”

“Ouch. Harsh much?”

“Look, I’m sorry.” Candice’s face reflected her apology. “I’m tired and cranky and I’m being a bitch. I’ll call you later, okay? I’m working on a story and it’s kicking my ass.”

“Don’t leave.” Lacey shifted toward the end of the booth. “We don’t have to talk about anything. Just sit down, enjoy your meal and relax.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Lace.” Candice’s voice was shaken, her hand trembling as she returned the phone to her pocket. “I’ll call you when things settle down.”

Lacey watched, confused, as Candice shouldered past the waitstaff in her path, walked past the bar and exited the building. Candy would never admit it but something had gotten to her recently. It might be work-related, but somehow Lacey didn’t think so.

She had a decent idea of who her best friend was running from—like a G.I. Joe he came complete with muscles, a gun and a uniform—she just didn’t know why.

“Come in!” Michael yelled as he exited the bathroom upstairs and adjusted the bowtie at his throat. Jacob wasn’t supposed to arrive with the limo for another hour.

Please don’t let it be bad news.

Staying away from Lacey for an entire week had been hell. There was no way he was going to last several hours without her, much less another day.

The doorbell rang again and he rushed down the stairs, careful not to slide on the wood, slip and break his neck. As he approached the door, he knew it wasn’t Jacob. The visitor, who was facing away, was too large and broad. He stifled a groan when the man turned and he saw his face. He’d expected this. From the moment he’d seen the looks exchanged between his friend and Candice Bradshaw, he’d known this was coming. But now was not the fucking time.

“Brady,” he said as he opened the door.

The brick shit house didn’t offer a greeting as he walked past Michael and into the house. He was out of uniform—dressed in a pair of jeans and a skintight navy polo—but Michael was well aware that the cop was armed. More than likely a gun was tucked on Brady’s ankle. Ever since he’d been in a store robbery without his weapon, he never went anywhere without one. Brady turned around in the center of the living room, placed his arms over his chest and set his feet shoulder’s width apart.

“Tell me about her.”

Michael closed the door. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything I can’t get from our records database. She’s not a member of Fantasia but she was there during the Halloween Masquerade. I did some digging and found out you were her host at the event. I want to know why you invited her and why she hasn’t returned.”

“Can I ask why?”

Unfolding his arms, Brady shifted his weight uncomfortably. “We struck up a conversation at the bar and eventually we took it somewhere private.”

Shit. Candice and Brady? It would have been laughable if the man standing before him wasn’t dead serious.

“She approached me about writing a piece on the club, and I agreed to get her in if she kept the intimate details—including names—out of her article. I got her in for a couple of weeks to get a feel for the lifestyle and the people. That’s it.”

Brady’s face fell. “She’s not a Domme?”

“If she is, she didn’t share it with me.” He couldn’t answer that question, even if he wanted to.

Candice Bradshaw exuded a dominant vibe, but so did a lot of people. During the two weekends she’d spent at Fantasia, their personal encounters and chats had been brief. He hadn’t wanted to discuss his personal life and neither had she. He came and visited friends while she mingled at the club as a Domme without a sub. Since she was extremely picky and standoffish, it worked perfectly.

He protected his club while she got her story.

“If she’s not a Domme, why was she pretending to be one?”

“She asked to get into the club for an exclusive story. That meant she had to blend in. We both know how it can be for a submissive. It was best, in her case, that she portrayed herself as a dominant.”

“What the fuck?” Brady sent an angry glare in his direction as he put the pieces together. “She was the one who wrote the article on Fantastia in Pleasant View Living, wasn’t she? Why would you expose the club like that?”

“Because the snitch would have gotten in if I hadn’t and possibly revealed names. The deal was she would keep the identities of the members secret and I would help her get a story.”

“So you don’t know anything about her?”

“I knew her when she was just a kid, before she left for college. We didn’t talk much when she returned, aside from saying hello when we crossed paths. I was actually shocked when she approached me about Fantasia.”

“Did you discuss anything when you took her to the club?”

“Afraid not. Since I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of getting her in, and she wasn’t exactly social, we parted ways at the door.”

“Shit.” Brady combed his fingers through his hair. “No wonder she’s been avoiding me.”

“You’ve tried talking to her?”

Brady nodded. “I approached her after you left the apartment but she acted like she didn’t know who in the hell I was, thanked me for my time and closed the door in my face. I managed to get her phone numbers, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her. She won’t return my messages and she’s not been to her apartment all week. That’s why I decided to come here.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Blackmail.”

“Excuse me?” Michael asked.

“I’m resorting to blackmail. When she refused to return my calls, I used the only thing I had to get her attention.”

“I’ve got to hear this.”

For the first time, Brady cracked a smile. “She invited me to play in a private room. I found it odd, since most Dommes who don’t know a sub won’t consider doing anything with them in private or without a Dungeon Master. Now I’m thinking she did it so that the encounter would be completely private.”

“How do you plan to use that as blackmail?”

“She chose the first empty room we came to that had a bed and a lock on the door.” Brady’s smile turned to a grin. “The video room.”

Michael returned Brady’s grin despite himself. That’s what you got when you fucked with karma. The video room was used by exhibitionists who were also voyeurs and liked to watch themselves as they played. The moment the lock was engaged, it triggered the camera hidden in the mirror across from the bed. Every single minute of their encounter would have been digitally stored in the computer upstairs.

“She knows you have the video?”

“I texted a screenshot to her earlier today with the message that I’d be at her apartment tomorrow night. She hasn’t responded yet, but I still plan on showing up. She owes me an explanation at the least.”

“Somehow I don’t think she’ll take kindly to you pushing the issue.”

“I didn’t take kindly to being left tied to a bed until a DM came along and found me with my pants down.”

Michael couldn’t help but chuckle at the visual. An enormous man left helpless on a bed by a woman who was lucky to be an inch or two over five feet. “Seriously?”

“I shit you not.”

“I suppose I can’t feel too sorry for her then.”

“I didn’t know anything about her. When she split, there was nothing to go on. I tried frequenting the club but she never showed again. I’d almost given up until I saw her last weekend.”

Brady finally seemed to notice the dress slacks, shirt and tie. “Going somewhere?”

Michael tugged at the bowtie, recalling all too well why it was that he never frequented the upper-class restaurants in the city. “To dinner and a private party if things go well.”

“The same newbie I met at Candice’s?”

“She’s Candice’s best friend.”

“What party are you taking her to?”

“Trevor and Brian are having an informal play party. I figured I’d let her watch. If she’s game for more I’ll set something up at Fantasia.”

“And if she isn’t?”

Michael tried to ignore that heavy weight inside his chest. It was a question he’d asked himself a thousand times as he’d carefully planned out his seduction, searching for the proper way to introduce her to his world and earn her trust. But trust only went so far. The desire to engage in what he wanted and needed had to be something she reciprocated. If not, they’d be living a lie, and eventually it would all fall apart.

Meeting Brady’s expectant gaze, he repeated the same thing he’d told himself in the mirror each time the devil on his shoulder reared its ugly head.

“I’ll have to do the right thing.”

“Which is?”

“The same thing you will if things don’t pan out with Candice.” Michael turned away and started back up the stairs. “I’ll have to let her go.”