Contrasting Lives Read online

  Paul Meccelli answered on the third ring. “Hey buddy. No doubt you're phoning to thank me for the advice, and the pearls of wisdom.”

  “I want her number.”

  “You've got the number.”

  Matt bit his lip, to stop from yelling at his partner. “Not the number for her agency. I want a number I can contact her on directly.”

  “No can do, partner.” Paul's voice was cheerful, but Matt didn't miss the edge of caution in Paul's voice, which confirmed what he'd suspected. Paul did have a number for Sienna, which he didn't intend to give to Matt.

  “Give me the number, Paul. Please.”

  “I can't, Matt. You'll have to phone on the business line.”

  “She won't take my calls.”

  Paul sounded incredulous when he responded. Incredulous and more than a little bit pissed. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.

  “Nothing!”

  “You must have done something, if she's put you on the no contact list.”

  “The what? What the hell is a no contact list?”

  Paul sighed. “Sally keeps her girls safe, and more importantly, gives them a choice on who they accept as clients. If any of the girls don't like a client, or feel uncomfortable, they can ask Sally to put the client on their no contact list. The girls won't be asked to escort that client again.”

  “What the hell? I didn't do anything to her.”

  “Nothing at all?” Paul questioned innocently.

  “It's none of your damn business, Meccelli,” Matt growled.

  “It is, if you hurt her.”

  “What's fucking wrong with you? I didn't hurt her! All of a sudden I'm a goddamn pariah, and the woman who runs the joint says I have to choose someone else.”

  “Ah.”

  Matt raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Ah? Ah, what?”

  “You're off the hook, buddy. If you'd hurt her, Sally would have banned you from hiring any of the escorts. Obviously it's a decision Sienna has made herself, for her own reasons.”

  “Well, I want to know what they are. Give me the number, Paul,” Matt demanded.

  “I can't. It would be an invasion of her privacy.”

  “I want to see her,” Matt insisted, not caring if he sounded like a fucking idiot. “I have to see her, Paul.”

  There was silence at the other end of the line for a few seconds and Matt twisted the beer bottle between his fingers impatiently, desperate for his partner to understand how important this was, to comprehend how badly Matt needed the number. He grimaced – he needed the number badly, and he had no idea why. What was so pressing about seeing a woman with whom he'd spent one disastrous afternoon? What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he did need to see a shrink.

  “Alright, Matt. You win; I'll give you her cell number. You need to promise me though, that you're not going to hurt her.”

  “You shouldn't have to ask me that.”

  “Yeah, I do have to ask. She's a nice woman, Matt. I don't know what you're thinking, hell; I haven't had a clue what you've been thinking since Caroline died. I gave you Sienna's business number, because I thought she could help you through a tough time – but if anything, she's more fragile than you are. You'd better be damned sure you're not going to do anything that could hurt her. If you do, I'll be the one busting your balls.”

  “Duly noted,” Matt said gruffly. “Now give me the damn number.”

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  She picked up the phone on the fourth ring and answered hesitantly, her soft voice cautious. “Hello?”

  “Sienna?”

  “Who is this?” Suspicion was evident in her tone, and Matt guessed she didn't like receiving calls from strangers.

  “Matt Pendleton.”

  A long pause followed his announcement. “How did you get this number?”

  Honesty seemed like his best option. “Your boss rang, told me you wouldn't see me again. I got in touch with Paul Meccelli and bullied him, until he gave me your private number.”

  “You shouldn't have done that.”

  “Yeah, I know. I'm an asshole; I shouldn't have asked him.” Matt paused, inhaling sharply. “I want to see you again.”

  There was another long silence on the other end of the line and Matt held his breath, waiting for her response.

  “I don't think it's a good idea.”

  “Why did you have me put on your no contact list? Did I do something to hurt your feelings?” he demanded quietly.

  “No.”

  “Then why? Why did you refuse to see me again?”

  “I didn't expect you would want to see me, after our appointment this afternoon,” she responded.

  “I do,” Matt stated firmly. “I want to see you again, Sienna.” He didn't know why he was so determined, but he was, and Matt acknowledged to himself that seeing her again was rating far more importantly in his life than it should.

  “Alright,” she said, after another brief silence. “I'll have you taken off the list and you can make another appointment—”

  “I don't want to make an appointment,” Matt announced. “What are you doing now? Have you eaten dinner?”

  “Matt, that isn't how this works.” Emily sounded off-balance, and Matt decided to push the advantage while he had it.

  “Would you have dinner with me? I know a great little place; it's relaxed, low key. You don't even have to dress up, it's very casual.”

  “That sounds more like a date, than an appointment.”

  “Yeah. It does.” Relief flooded through his chest. She wasn't refusing the suggestion outright, which provided him with a glimmer of hope. He decided to press the advantage. “Have dinner with me, Sienna.”

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  She should say no. Her mind was firmly announcing the answer should be no, even as her heart was pressing for an affirmative response. There were a multitude of reasons for saying no; she knew she should politely refuse what could only end up being a disastrous mistake. He was a client, and she was an escort. He was a cop with a family; she was a submissive who needed a Dom. He couldn't possibly understand her lifestyle choices – and he hadn't recovered from the death of his wife. As much as Emily wanted to say yes, she knew once he found out everything about her, Matt would run for the hills, would no doubt find her lifestyle abhorrent. Despite every argument, when she responded the answer she gave him surprised her. “Alright.”

  “Great, I'll pick you up. What's the address?”

  Oh, hell. She should tell Matt she'd meet him at the restaurant, but even as the thought crossed her mind, Emily decided if she was going to pursue this craziness, she should lay it all on the line. “Do you know Salacious?”

  “That kink joint downtown?”

  Emily smiled to herself when she heard the surprise in his voice. “Yeah. That kink joint.”

  “Uh, yeah. I do.”

  “Meet me out front. How long will it take you to get here?”

  Matt did some rough mental calculations. “Twenty minutes.”

  “Alright. I'll see you then.” Emily disconnected the call and stood with her cell phone clutched in her hand. She couldn't stop the gleeful little smile that pasted itself on her lips, or ignore the little skip of joy her heart made. Despite her doubts, she was tickled that Matt wanted to see her again.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Salacious was located at the northern end of the city, an old warehouse converted into what was possibly the most discreet club in Seattle. Of course, the Seattle Police Department knew about it, but it was the one club that never caused any headaches to Seattle's finest. They were never called in to break up fights, deal with drunks – the place stuck to the rules with military precision and never caused an ounce of trouble. Given the type of club it was, Matt could understand their desire to keep under the radar. He'd heard all sorts of rumors about what the club members got up to, and as he pulled up outside the building, he wondered for the hundredth time
why Sienna was here.

  The street Salacious was situated on had once been part of a large Seattle industrial area, long ago deserted by enterprise. From what Matt had heard, the owner of Salacious had brought the warehouse the club was situated in, and then proceeded to purchase the land around the warehouse, affording Salacious a sizeable amount of privacy for its patrons. The streets around the club had gradually been modernized with new apartments, up-market condominiums, and popular restaurants – but Salacious had remained. A small bronze sign displaying the name of the club hung on the red brick wall facing the street, illuminated by a lone spotlight. The street outside the building was packed with cars, but there was no one around, and Matt discovered there wasn't a visible entrance where he'd pulled up. Well, hell – where was the entrance? Given the nature of the club, he assumed it was probably off the street; people would want privacy when they arrived. He was about to pull away from the curb when two figures turned the corner of the building and approached his truck. The man was tall and muscular, solidly built and wearing black jeans and a t-shirt with 'Salacious' printed in bold red lettering across the tightly stretched material. The girl was petite and as they drew closer to the truck, Matt recognized her. He hurriedly opened the door and stepped out. “Hi.”

  Sienna smiled nervously, but the gorilla who was accompanying her didn't alter his severe expression. Sienna glanced up at the man standing beside her, touching his arm. “This is Matt, Bud. I'll be fine now, thank you.”

  The gorilla looked down at Sienna and offered her a brotherly smile, and then his gaze darted back to Matt, as if he suspected Matt was an insect that needed crushing. “You need anything, you call me, darlin'.”

  “I will.”

  Matt had walked around the car and he opened the passenger door for Sienna, eyeing her hair with interest. “I'll take care of her.” He couldn't figure out for the life of him why he felt the need to reassure Gorilla Guy.

  “You'd better.” Gorilla Guy grunted the response and headed back towards the corner of the club. Sienna stepped up into the cab of the truck, eyeing the interior with interest.

  Matt settled back into the driver's seat and clipped his seatbelt, turning to Sienna. She looked tiny in his truck, swamped by the size of the seat and he smiled. “Thanks for agreeing.”

  “Thanks for asking.”

  Matt motioned towards her hair. “Is that your real hair?”

  She touched it self-consciously. “Yeah.”

  “This afternoon it was a wig?”

  She licked her lips, nibbling the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. And as this is a date, and not an appointment, you should probably know my name isn't Sienna.”

  “I see.” Matt twisted a little more in the seat, mesmerized by the motion of her tongue and the little damp spot she'd left on her lower lip. He fought against the urge to lean across and kiss it. “What is your name?”

  “Emily.”

  Matt smiled warmly. “Emily. That's a real pretty name.” Tugging his rampaging hormones back under control, he pulled the truck away from the curb and eased into the street. “I like it better than Sienna. That sounded like an actress's name.”

  “I guess that's what I am, when I'm with a client.” Emily settled back in the seat, her gaze fixed on the windscreen.

  Matt made small talk as they drove towards the restaurant, carefully steering away from anything personal. Sienna – Emily – seemed skittish and he wanted her to relax. Glancing at her surreptitiously while they waited at a set of traffic lights, he was again taken by the beauty of her fine features and blown away by the pretty mop of curls she'd kept hidden under the wig. His fingers itched to run through the ringlets, but he tightened his hands on the steering wheel instead.

  The restaurant was a little Italian place, close to the 27th Precinct where he worked. Opened some forty years ago by Nico Donetti, the place was still managed by Nico, his wife Lucy and a hodgepodge of sons, daughters and grandchildren. In Matt's humble opinion, they served the best Italian food in Seattle and it was a favorite with him and his kids. The server had them settled into a cozy private booth within seconds of their arrival and took their drink orders. Given he'd had two beers already, Matt settled on a Coke and Emily requested a lemonade. When the server left, he relaxed against the back of the booth and eyed the beautiful woman across from him. “So technically, this is a date?”

  Emily's response was guarded, and he watched her play with a napkin. “Yes.”

  “So I can ask about you, and not get told you don't answer personal questions?”

  Emily considered this carefully for a few seconds, a tiny crease appearing in the skin between her eyes, and Matt resisted the strong urge to reach out and smooth it away. “Within reason,” she answered cautiously.

  “Okay,” Matt agreed. “Within reason.” The server appeared with their drinks and Matt sat back, waiting while she took their meal order and then hurried away again. The restaurant was busy and Matt was grateful he knew Nico well enough to pull in a favor and get this quiet booth at the back of the restaurant. “So what's a girl like you, doing at a club like Salacious?”

  “A girl like me?” Emily repeated softly. She twirled the straw in her glass, considering her response before she answered. “I live there, Matt.”

  Matt raised an eyebrow; this wasn't the response he'd expected. “You live… at Salacious?”

  Emily nodded. “Sally offered me a place to stay two years ago. I live up above the club, in an apartment on the second floor.”

  “Two years ago?” Matt contemplated the answer for a few seconds. “Did that coincide with the bad situation Paul rescued you from?”

  “Yes.”

  “So Paul rescued you, this Sally took you in.”

  “Yes.”

  Matt sipped his Coke. “Have you always been a— escort?” He stumbled over the question, nearly calling Emily a hooker again, but after seeing her reaction to the word the last time, he managed to make the save at the last second.

  “No. Only for the past couple of years.”

  Matt frowned. “This Sally – did she make you do it?”

  To his surprise, Emily chuckled. “Good grief, no. It was my choice.”

  Matt chewed his lip thoughtfully. He had dozens of questions he wanted to ask, in a quest to understand why such a beautiful girl was selling her body to strangers, and living in a kink club. None of it made sense and being the good detective he was, Matt wanted answers. “Why?”

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Emily shrugged in response to the question. The man sitting across from her seemed genuinely interested, and hadn't seemed overwhelmed by anything he'd learned – so far. This afternoon he'd been so nervous – now he seemed much more in control and she was the one suffering from a bout of nerves. He was handsome in denim jeans and a white collared shirt, the top buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms. “I make good money. My clients are good to me, and treat me with respect. It's paying for college.”

  Matt's eyes widened and Emily wondered if this was it. Was this the moment when Matt would come to the realization that this was a mistake? It was bound to happen, Emily wasn't certain why he'd invited her to dinner tonight and was convinced that sooner or later, Matt would be repulsed by what she was, what she did for a living. So it came as some surprise when he spoke again, his voice casual. “What are you studying at college?”

  “I'm majoring in Ancient History and Archaeology. About to complete my second year.”

  “Obviously got brains, then,” Matt conceded with a wry grin.

  “I like to think so.” Emily leaned back in the seat, relaxing a smidgeon.

  Matt sipped his drink, and Emily could see that he was contemplating another question. He leaned forward in the seat, his gaze intense. “You live at Salacious. Does that mean you're into the kinky shit?”

  The server arrived with their order, seconds after Matt posed his question, and Emily was amused when Matt cursed under his
breath, obviously frustrated by the efficiency of the wait staff. He didn't start eating his Napolitano pasta; instead, he eyed Emily shrewdly, patiently waiting for an answer.

  Emily picked up her fork, twirling it lightly against the red tablecloth, eyeing the other customers as though gauging if they were within earshot. “I'm not sure I want to answer that question.”

  “Why?” Matt demanded.

  How could she answer? She was worried that if she told him the truth, he would walk out of the restaurant and she would never see him again. Even to her own ears, it made her sound pathetic, but she didn't want to tell him the truth and see repulsion on his handsome face. She wanted the chance to get to know Matt Pendleton better. Above everything else, Emily knew she should be honest with him. Nothing could possibly eventuate between them, even if she wanted it to, but she was fool enough to admit to holding onto a tiny bit of hope. “I'm a submissive, Matt.”

  Matt's face was set in stone, his eyes focused on hers and she assumed he was deciding whether to walk out. Instead, he pushed his plate across the table, picked up his glass, and left the booth, slipping in beside her on the other side. His large body invaded her space and she felt heat rush through her body at his closeness. It was similar to what she'd felt this afternoon, when her legs were straddled over his strong lean body and a rush of dampness flooded her underwear. “Explain what that means,” Matt demanded softly.

  She fought to buy time, aware of his warm thigh, just barely touching her own. “Matt, we should eat first.” Seeing him open his mouth to argue, she continued hurriedly. “I'm kind of hungry, and this isn't something which can be explained in a few short sentences.”

  With a terse nod, Matt agreed, and she watched him make a visible effort to relax. He picked up his fork and started stabbing at the hot pasta, stuffing it into his mouth.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Christ, he wanted another beer – badly. A submissive? He wasn't naïve, and he knew what it meant, but hell – what did it mean for him? Just hearing her utter the word had increased his discomfort tenfold. He'd been aroused from the second he'd seen her come around the corner at Salacious, and now, he was painfully hard, and his balls were on fire. What did that say about him? The thought of her being under his control, doing what he requested – willing to submit to his every desire. Shit.