Sinful Desire

*

“Be an artist. Be an athlete. Be a leader,” Clyde said, his voice booming through the mic across the ballroom. “The local community center has a mission to provide all those services to young men and women in our fine city, whether it’s shooting basketballs, learning photography, or even getting a healthy meal for dinner. The center has cooking, parties, poetry, volunteer services, and thanks to the fearless director, Elle Mariano, we have wonderful support and counseling for young people today. I couldn’t be more delighted to be a key supporter of this very fine center and its services. And I am thrilled that so many other local companies have opened their wallets and checkbooks to get on board with us.” Clyde then rattled off the names of other supporters, from Colin’s firm to the newest ones in White Box. When he was through, the crowd clapped and cheered, including Curtis and Charlie, who Ryan had been enjoying a drink with.

“Glad to hear you guys on that list. Impressive to see you get behind the local community,” Ryan said to the two men.

“Thank you. We were glad to help,” Charlie said in a gentlemanly and gracious tone. “As a younger man, I was a bit of a troublemaker. Now that I’m older, I try to stay out of trouble.”

“We were all troublemakers one way or the other, weren’t we?”

“Indeed we were. We try to do better as we grow older and wiser,” he said, like a sage advisor, dispensing wisdom gleaned over the years. “By the way, your security team is doing a spectacular job already with my clubs. I couldn’t be more thrilled to be working with you to help keep my business safe and secure.”

Ryan flashed a smile. Nothing delighted him more in business than a satisfied client and a job well done. “I’m thrilled.”

“Anything you need, you let me know,” Charlie said, then gestured to the stage.

After sharing the details of the fundraising goal – an announcement met with cheers and claps – Clyde passed the speaking baton to Sophie’s brother. John walked to the podium then gave a short speech about the importance of keeping the streets safe, finishing with a call to support the community center. “Places like this can make a big difference. I believe that if we give young people a chance early on to be involved in something other than gangs, crime, and the trouble they can get into on the streets, we’ll have a safe community and a better Las Vegas.”

John said thanks and nodded crisply, and everyone cheered. Ryan soaked in the atmosphere in the ballroom, and the sense that maybe there were enough people who cared about change. Who cared about this city. Who wanted the best for this town they all called home.

He was filled with pride, too, over Sophie’s work, bringing such a motley crew together all in the name of this cause. He only hoped seeing the support from the crowds would lift that knot of tension she’d been carrying all night. Even as she introduced the orchestra and her ex-husband, then asked the guests to find their seats to enjoy some Beethoven, he could tell she wasn’t herself.

He doubted anyone else could, but it was in the small details, from the way she cleared her throat before she spoke to how she briefly fiddled with her hair on stage. Sophie was not a fiddler. Or a throat-clearer.

All the more reason for him to tie her up to a chair tonight, or maybe blindfold her for the first time. Yeah, he liked the image of that. He suspected that was just what she needed to clear her mind, and rid her body of all that stress.

Great. Now his dick was hard in his tuxedo pants.

He excused himself from his clients, found his way to his seat, and waited for Sophie to join him and his hard-on.

When she did, he brushed his lips to her neck then whispered something dirty in her ear about what he wanted to do to her later. She shivered slightly.

Slightly.

That was all.

Something was wrong with his Sophie.

*

She wanted to vomit.

She wanted to hurl.

To crawl under the covers, pull them over her head, and pretend she’d never offered to make that damn jacket.

She should have baked a pie instead. Made a homemade card with construction paper. Knit a scarf.

That damn dog jacket was tormenting her. Its secrets hounded her. She repeated the names—T.J. Nelson, Kenny Nelson—over and over in her head all day.

Then the other names.

John. Ryan. Ryan. John.

Like a pendulum she swung back and forth, seesawing between the two men. She couldn’t last much longer in this state of suspended secrecy. She hardly knew how Ryan had ever managed to keep things locked inside his head. It was painful. It hurt her skull to have this knowledge that she needed to share sealed in her mind.

Her stomach clenched. Evil butterflies swarmed her belly, the nightmarish, haunting kind.