wrong?” she asked, touching his face.
“You’re frowning.”
He forced a smile. “Just afraid I’ll wake up
and find it’s all been a dream.” He took her to his bed, naked, the
way a slave ought to be, and stayed up long after her eyes closed,
watching her lashes flutter against her cheek.
Chapter Six: Stay
Jason woke in the morning to the sound of
pounding. The front door? Sara sighed and stirred beside him.
“Don’t get up,” he said when her eyes blinked
open. “Stay here.”
He threw on sweats and a tee and padded down
the stairs, wondering who’d be knocking at eight in the morning. He
didn’t have any work appointments until ten. When he flung open the
door, Michel Lemaitre pushed Jason aside and strode into his living
room. “Sara is missing,” he said. “No one can find her. She hasn’t
been back to her dorm all night.”
Well, this was a fucking situation. Lemaitre
crossed to the window, his lips compressed in a line.
“She’s not missing,” said Jason. “She’s
asleep upstairs.”
Lemaitre turned back to him and stared. He
knew this house, because he’d sold it to Jason a few years ago. He
knew “upstairs” meant Sara was in his bedroom.
“And why is Sara asleep upstairs?” he asked
with a dangerous edge to his voice.
Because I got to her first, you horny
lecher. Sara was twelve years younger than him; that meant she
was twenty-two years younger than Lemaitre. “Keep your voice down,
okay? We were out late. I took her to see Tsilaosa .”
“And then what?”
Jason headed to the kitchen. He needed coffee
for this conversation. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I’m sure I want to know.” Lemaitre’s voice
sounded cold as ice. “I don’t know what disturbs me more, that my
most rigidly proper director is breaking the rules, or that he’s
breaking them with a woman who’s been here for one day. One
day , Jason.”
Once Jason had the coffee brewing, he crossed
to sit in the chair nearest Lemaitre, considering his options. He
could lie to his boss, but lies were hard to keep track of. He
could refuse to explain, which would probably cost him his job. Or
he could tell the truth, which Lemaitre would eventually figure out
anyway.
“Before I say anything, I want your word that
you won’t treat Sara any differently after you hear what I
say.”
Lemaitre narrowed his eyes. “ Dieu ,
such drama.”
“I want your word.”
He threw up his hands. “Yes, you have my
word, although I doubt this is her doing.”
Jason paused, sinking back in his chair. “My
first night in Ulaanbaatar, I went downtown to check out a BDSM
club. That’s where Sara and I met.”
Lemaitre’s eyes went from narrow to wide.
“There’s a BDSM club in Mongolia?”
“Yes, they have them everywhere. You of all
people should know,” Jason replied with an edge of sarcasm. “And it
wasn’t so much a club as a brothel. You know, girls dancing in
cages, and private rooms available for the right price.”
The older man’s jaw worked. “What was Sara
doing there?”
“Waiting tables in skimpy lingerie, serving
drinks to horny, kinky men.”
“Horny, kinky men like you.”
Jason pursed his lips. “I only went there to
relax, to loosen up as you told me to, but then shit started
happening. They tried to get me drunk, tried to take advantage of
the stupid American, but Sara wouldn’t let them. To make a long
story short, I got kicked out and she got fired.”
“Then what?” Lemaitre asked.
Jason held up a hand. “Look, I swear to God.
I didn’t know she was part of the act I was scouting, and she
didn’t know I was with Cirque du Monde.”
His voice turned a shade icier. “You slept
with her.”
“We were both freaked out by what happened.
She was upset.”
“So you lured her back to your hotel room and
soothed her, is that it? Such a heroic, selfless act.”
“You told me I worked too hard, remember? You
told me to ‘enjoy the local pleasures.’”
“I
“You’re frowning.”
He forced a smile. “Just afraid I’ll wake up
and find it’s all been a dream.” He took her to his bed, naked, the
way a slave ought to be, and stayed up long after her eyes closed,
watching her lashes flutter against her cheek.
Chapter Six: Stay
Jason woke in the morning to the sound of
pounding. The front door? Sara sighed and stirred beside him.
“Don’t get up,” he said when her eyes blinked
open. “Stay here.”
He threw on sweats and a tee and padded down
the stairs, wondering who’d be knocking at eight in the morning. He
didn’t have any work appointments until ten. When he flung open the
door, Michel Lemaitre pushed Jason aside and strode into his living
room. “Sara is missing,” he said. “No one can find her. She hasn’t
been back to her dorm all night.”
Well, this was a fucking situation. Lemaitre
crossed to the window, his lips compressed in a line.
“She’s not missing,” said Jason. “She’s
asleep upstairs.”
Lemaitre turned back to him and stared. He
knew this house, because he’d sold it to Jason a few years ago. He
knew “upstairs” meant Sara was in his bedroom.
“And why is Sara asleep upstairs?” he asked
with a dangerous edge to his voice.
Because I got to her first, you horny
lecher. Sara was twelve years younger than him; that meant she
was twenty-two years younger than Lemaitre. “Keep your voice down,
okay? We were out late. I took her to see Tsilaosa .”
“And then what?”
Jason headed to the kitchen. He needed coffee
for this conversation. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I’m sure I want to know.” Lemaitre’s voice
sounded cold as ice. “I don’t know what disturbs me more, that my
most rigidly proper director is breaking the rules, or that he’s
breaking them with a woman who’s been here for one day. One
day , Jason.”
Once Jason had the coffee brewing, he crossed
to sit in the chair nearest Lemaitre, considering his options. He
could lie to his boss, but lies were hard to keep track of. He
could refuse to explain, which would probably cost him his job. Or
he could tell the truth, which Lemaitre would eventually figure out
anyway.
“Before I say anything, I want your word that
you won’t treat Sara any differently after you hear what I
say.”
Lemaitre narrowed his eyes. “ Dieu ,
such drama.”
“I want your word.”
He threw up his hands. “Yes, you have my
word, although I doubt this is her doing.”
Jason paused, sinking back in his chair. “My
first night in Ulaanbaatar, I went downtown to check out a BDSM
club. That’s where Sara and I met.”
Lemaitre’s eyes went from narrow to wide.
“There’s a BDSM club in Mongolia?”
“Yes, they have them everywhere. You of all
people should know,” Jason replied with an edge of sarcasm. “And it
wasn’t so much a club as a brothel. You know, girls dancing in
cages, and private rooms available for the right price.”
The older man’s jaw worked. “What was Sara
doing there?”
“Waiting tables in skimpy lingerie, serving
drinks to horny, kinky men.”
“Horny, kinky men like you.”
Jason pursed his lips. “I only went there to
relax, to loosen up as you told me to, but then shit started
happening. They tried to get me drunk, tried to take advantage of
the stupid American, but Sara wouldn’t let them. To make a long
story short, I got kicked out and she got fired.”
“Then what?” Lemaitre asked.
Jason held up a hand. “Look, I swear to God.
I didn’t know she was part of the act I was scouting, and she
didn’t know I was with Cirque du Monde.”
His voice turned a shade icier. “You slept
with her.”
“We were both freaked out by what happened.
She was upset.”
“So you lured her back to your hotel room and
soothed her, is that it? Such a heroic, selfless act.”
“You told me I worked too hard, remember? You
told me to ‘enjoy the local pleasures.’”
“I
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