The Businessman's Tie (The Power to Please, Book 1) by Deena Ward

playboy had a finger in my bra and was toying
with my nipple while a couple dozen club-goers enjoyed the show.
    Then I saw The Businessman among the watching crowd, looking
as devastatingly handsome as I remembered. And he was angry. Definitely angry.
    Immediately, I felt guilty.
    Guilt. Really? It couldn’t be. The memory of cheating on my
husband blazed clear and large in my mind. I’d felt no guilt for a cuckolded
husband, for broken vows and secret trysts. Not even once. Not even close.
    Apparently, I saved my shame for virtual strangers, for men
who seduced me then didn’t bother to tell me their names, or ask for mine.
    What the hell was wrong with me? The entire scene was absurd
to the point of farce. I fought down an urge to laugh, though I was in no way
amused.
    I couldn’t look away from The Businessman and his anger.
Mixed with my inexplicable feelings of guilt was an equally inexplicable,
though less powerful, tremble of fear. Fear of what? Shame for what?
    He and I didn’t even know each other, not in any real way.
There could be no concerns about promises and fidelity. Yet he glared at me as
if I’d somehow betrayed him. Impossible.
    Michael noticed the change in me. He followed my gaze to The
Businessman, who immediately switched his glare from me to Michael.
    Michael smiled and gave an acknowledgement nod, the briefest
hello. The Businessman didn’t return the gesture. His angry expression
disappeared the next instant, replaced by total blandness. He turned away and
walked off into the crowd, gone from my view within seconds.
    Now you see him, now you don’t, I thought. How like him.
    Michael, still smiling, appeared unfazed by The
Businessman’s cut. His finger circled my nipple as he asked, “Someone you
know?”
    The moment having been considerably dampened for me, I
gently removed his hand from my breast and answered, “A passing acquaintance.”
    Mood spoiled, I buttoned up my shirt.
    Michael sighed in a playfully dramatic way. “It’s so sad
when a good time is ruined by some random thing or other. Still, you pleased me
while it lasted, so I’m content with that.”
    I smiled even though my nerves remained on edge. I reached
for my drink. It was watery and tasteless from the melted ice, but it served
its purpose of wetting my dry lips and mouth, bringing me back to a more even
state.
    I asked the question that I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.
“Do you know that man?”
    I was certain that Michael almost asked, “Who?” It was
something about the shape of his mouth before he said, “Just a passing
acquaintance, same as you.”
    “Do you know his name? I can’t remember it, and I hate it
when I can’t remember a name.”
    Michael said he didn’t remember. I was disappointed, until
Michael added, “But I’ve heard some rumors about him.”
    Ah, rumors. That was something, anyway. “Oh,” I said, then
waited to see if he would tell me more.
    He did. “Some people have said he can be, how should I say
this, unfeeling and harsh to his, uh, to the women under his care.”
    “What do you mean, the women under his care?”
    “His sexual partners. I’m not much for labels, but in
general, a partner of his would be called a sub, short for submissive.”
    This time my “Oh” was no ploy. “Then he’s some kind of
regular here, and has subs. It’s BDSM.”
    “Most people who come here are into BDSM,” he said, “in one
way or another, as I more or less told you before. I’m pleased you know the
term. You’d be surprised how many people don’t. Here I thought you were an
innocent young thing with no idea of the ways of the world.”
    “Uh-huh. Was that before or after you stuck your finger in
my bra in front of 30-odd strangers?”
    He chuckled low and sexy, “Well, perhaps not all that
innocent. Innocent enough that I thought you needed special handling. Now,
however ...”
    I didn’t like where he was heading. “I don’t live under a
rock, so I have a general knowledge