I didn’t even blink or think to negotiate.

  “Yes. Just send me the information, and I’ll be there.”

  “Wonderful.” She almost sounded as relieved as me. “Just go to Infinity’s website and officially apply for the job. You’ll receive the pertinent information by email.”

  I glanced at my suitcase. I had a laptop, but I wasn’t sure if there was any Wi-Fi around. Hell, I’d drive around until I found a signal. Double hell, I’d drive all the way back to New York tonight if I had to.

  “I’m in West Virginia right now, and it’ll take me about eight or nine hours to drive back tomorrow. I can leave early in the morning and be on-site tomorrow afternoon or evening at the latest.” I crossed my fingers, hoping it would be soon enough.

  “Drive on out to the estate when you get into town. We’ll get you settled into a room, and you can begin work the next morning. The director and assistant director will be on-site to give you your assignment.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  As I said goodbye to my new most favorite person in the world, I was smiling.

  A bachelor type reality show wasn’t on my list of dreams, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  One arrogant, rich albeit sexy-as-all-hell jerk.

  Nine prissy primadonnas.

  How bad could it be?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rhett

  “Rhett Hamilton. Good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

  Stretching out a hand, I greeted Michael Murphy. Owner of The Xanctuary, a private BDSM club, Michael stood only an inch shorter than my six-three frame but was probably fifty pounds lighter due to his love of running marathons.

  Me? I liked to run, loved the endorphins and escape the rhythmic sound of shoes on pavement created, but I also lifted weights, hitting the gym in an effort to keep the encroaching softness of age far at bay.

  “It has been too long, Michael. Good to see you again too.”

  The doorman must have alerted the owner to my presence because a table was cleared in the VIP section and a perfectly aged Macallan waiting by the time I’d trudged up the steps. I took a sip, nodding to the bartender, who gave me a little salute in return. In addition to the saucy gesture, a big smile adorned her glossy lips. Tonight, Alisa’s dress consisted of suspenders holding up a piece of cloth that barely covered her ass. With each movement, the suspenders shifted on her large globes, causing every man in the balcony section to be mesmerized, waiting to see if they would slip just enough to give them a glimpse of the nipples underneath.

  No matter the amount of nakedness around them, boys would be boys.

  Tonight was my last night in the city before heading to my Georgica Pond estate. I dreaded it. For the first time, I actually dreaded going to my other sanctuary, the home that gave me all the space I needed to wander around in total isolation if I wished. It was also the perfect place to throw parties, bring the team out for the occasional barbeque if there was ever time.

  Time.

  One thing I hadn’t counted on when I decided to create my own team was just how much time was involved. Naively, I thought I’d build it, choose the men, hire the right team, then be able to sit back and enjoy the games.

  Wrong.

  I felt more like a daddy than anything most of the time. It had gotten better after Calvin Malone and Ace Newman had settled their asses down, but then there was the daredevil antics of Todd Morris and his hookup with my public relations manager. That had been a mess. Then came the nightmare of Kane and Eliana’s relationship. That had been scary as hell. I bet half of New York now had tape over their personal electronics’ camera eyes. If they didn’t, they should. I sure as fuck did.

  Their relationship struggles had gotten me thinking how lucky I’d been to live the life I’d chosen for myself without some money hungry drama queen trying to take a big hunk of my hard work.

  Of course, that was why I was very careful with the women I took to bed.

  The tabloids made it seem like I fucked a new girl every day of the week, then two a night each weekend.

  That couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, in the beginning, right as the first season had begun, I had my share. Hell, women were throwing themselves at me, expecting nothing but a good fuck and a chance to brag about it to their friends.

  That had gotten old quick. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the sex. A part of me did, very much. But it wasn’t what I craved. The women weren’t who I craved.

  Hell, I didn’t even know what I was craving anymore. I just knew what I wasn’t.

  Flighty.

  Flirty.

  Empty-headed.

  I’d rather be alone than deal with the emptiness of only sex and no conversation. Better to fuck my fist than deal with the something or someone I didn’t want. Maybe it was my age. Maybe it was the degree of celebrity in which I’d found myself.

  That was something else I’d been naive about — the media’s attention toward me. I’d expected all the focus to be on the players, but that hadn’t been the case. Maybe it was because I was still single at thirty-six. Maybe it was because I was a recluse, which added a mystery around me. That, and the fact that no one would find a picture of me in any yearbook or any mention of a young Rhett Hamilton before the age of eighteen.

  I hadn’t lied to Nana Steele.

  I hadn’t had anyone like her in my life growing up. But I wasn’t going to tell her the truth either. I didn’t want to see the spark of fear in her eyes, wondering if I was a monster. I didn’t want her to realize I was.

  “Need anything special tonight, Rhett?”

  What Michael was really asking was whether I wanted to secure a private room for later. A private room where I could take a Sub of my choosing. A private room where I could get rid of this tension, clear my head before dealing with the reality show I’d agreed to be in.

  Damn it to all hell. What had I been thinking?

  “I’ll let you know if I do.” He nodded and took off, leaving me to sit and let the music wash over me. It wasn’t too loud, just enough that the bass thudded in my chest. Loud enough to drown out the chaos of my thoughts, which was the reason I was here.

  I needed to stop thinking.

  It was Friday night, and the place was packed. Even the chilly December night and the air conditioning couldn’t keep up with the press of bodies writhing on the dance floor below me. I never danced when I was here and wasn’t in the mood to begin tonight, so I sat and drank, waiting for someone to strike my attention enough to make me give a damn. If no one did, I’d watch a show then head out, get to the estate a day earlier than expected. Maybe take a run, workout, swim, jack off… anything to get this tension out of me.

  I blew out a breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. Maybe I would find someone to play with tonight. Someone who knew the game. Knew the expectations. Was willing to submit to the animal inside me.

  The music downstairs changed, growing lower, slower, and I focused my attention on the stage below. A couple was making their way up the steps. They seemed familiar, but it had been so long since I’d been here that I wasn’t sure if I recognized them, or simply recognized their intentions. The woman was beautiful, long red hair nearly reaching an ass that was covered only in the faintest hint of material. She wore a collar and stilettoes so tall her calf muscles popped with the effort of each step. She was glamorous. Erotic. But the expression on her face was serene.

  The man led her by a chain attached to the collar around her neck. When he stopped walking, she stopped as well, waiting for what was to come next. The man approached her, brushing his lips against her cheek before whispering something that caused her to shudder. Through the glossy material of her dress, her nipples grew taut, and she inclined her head in submission.

  Slowly, the Dom untied the straps at her shoulders, and the dress fell gracefully to her feet, leaving a tiny thong the only barrier between her and complete nakedness.

  His hands trailed down her arms, bringing her hands behind her back. Lifting a long coil of rope from the table beside them, he began to wrap her wrists in an elaborate chain of knots, not stopping until he reached her elbows.

  I watched her face, the faint smile playing on her lips. Her chest heaved in and out in anticipation. Everyone in the room seemed to breathe with her. Me included.

  Turning her, the man placed a hand on her back, pressing until she was belly down on the narrow, padded table, her full breasts hanging off the front, her long hair dangling nearly to the floor. He strolled to another table, one laden with a paddle, floggers, and whips as well as numerous other implements.

  He lifted a pair of nipple clamps, and not the nice padded ones. These had metal teeth, and I let out a low whistle. Many of my Subs liked and wanted pain, but those would inflict more than I’d normally give them. Judging from the loud moan escaping the Sub’s throat when the Dom clamped first one then the other to her dangling nipples, they were the right amount of pain for her.

  No, it clearly wasn’t the right amount of pain yet. The Dom brought out a pair of small weights and clipped them to the clamps. Her breasts distended from the weight, but the wail escaping her throat couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but what it was — ecstasy.

  “Too much?” The Dom’s voice was low but carried enough for everyone to hear.

  The Sub shook her head, and the Dom smacked her ass hard enough to leave a handprint.

  “No, Master.” Her voice was raw, her fingers flexing at her back.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “More, Master,” she whimpered, then begged in a louder, clearer voice, “Please more.”

  Stepping back to the table, the Dom fingered the whips, lifting one and setting it back down. The flogger would have been my preference, and I wondered which would be his. I didn’t know how long this couple had been together. I didn’t know her pain tolerance or his level of sadistic nature.

  He chose the paddle, and I shifted in my seat, interested in how this would play out.

  Taunting the woman, he rubbed the wood over her ass then between her legs. Her eyes closed in anticipation.

  Thwack.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and I could almost hear her sigh. Another smack and she bit her lower lip. My cock twitched. Not from the assault, but from the expression on her face. The surrender. The need.

  Even when a warm presence arrived at my elbow, I assumed it was a waitress and ignored her, not wanting to tear my gaze away from the stage. I watched the Sub fully trusting her master, fully trusting what he was doing and would do. As a Dom, that surrender was humbling. Witnessing it was humbling too.

  A moment of jealousy sliced through me at the intimacy of their relationship. I’d never had that. Not really. And I’d vowed to never allow myself the hope of it again. Never take that risk. Not after my one attempt at getting close to a woman many years ago had failed so dismally.

  I grimaced at the reminder, pushing the thought far away.

  Maybe the distraction of having nine women throw themselves at me wouldn’t be so bad. It would push me out of the box I’d enclosed myself in for so many years. Give me something to do besides work sixteen hours a day. It might be fun.

  I groaned. And fish enjoyed walking on land.

  Damn. Why in the hell had I agreed to that damn show?

  The presence beside me stepped closer, and I glanced over to find a beautiful blonde at my elbow. Wearing a leather bustier, her breasts nearly spilled from the top. Clearly a Sub searching for a master, she inclined her head.

  “What’s your name?”

  A pink tongue darted out to lick her lips. “Whatever you wish it to be.”

  “What do you want?”

  Her lashes fluttered. “Whatever you wish to give me.”

  A year ago, I’d have had her sweet little ass halfway to a room by now. But tonight… I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I knew this beautiful creature couldn’t fill whatever void had dug the crater deep in my psyche. My soul.

  I was restless. Searching. But also running at the same time. From what, I didn’t know.

  I turned back to the stage to see that the man had set the paddle down. With a knee, the Dom spread the woman’s legs farther, spanking her between them with a quick smack of his palm. She cried out, the hands bound behind her tightening into fists. He spanked her there again, and again, then left his hand in place the last time. The Sub bit her lip, pleasure playing over her features as he took her to her first orgasm of the evening.

  “Do I not please you?” the woman beside me asked.

  I turned my attention back to her, surprised by the question. It was brazen for a submissive. I stood and reached out to lift her chin until she looked at me. “You’re very beautiful.”

  She was. Dark chocolate eyes were an interesting contrast to her icy pale features. But I didn’t want her. Didn’t want this, for some reason. I never went into an encounter without being fully committed to it or to the woman placing her trust in me. I wouldn’t start that practice now.

  I wasn’t into relationships, but I wasn’t a complete bastard.

  I kissed her forehead, hoping the tender gesture would soften the rejection before I strode away. As I walked down the steps, I glanced back to see her approaching the man at the next table and being immediately pulled onto his lap. She’d be fine.

  As I texted my driver to take me to the estate, I wondered if I’d be fine as well.

  And if I wasn’t, would anyone care?

  ***

  Less than an hour later, I could feel myself already breathing easier as we passed through the gates of what I laughingly considered to be my country home. It wasn’t exactly country, but it was secluded by the trees and fence that surrounded the twenty-plus acres.

  The entire house glowed, and I watched it grow larger upon our approach, frowning slightly at the number of vehicles parked around the circular driveway. I couldn’t stop the pride I felt as Dillon approached the garage to my private entrance. So very different than the house I’d grown up in. I closed my eyes against the memory of the two-bedroom shack. The cellar. The closet. The squeak of the door opening during the night.

  “You okay, Rhett?”

  I glanced up to see Dillon watching me carefully in the rearview mirror. Dillon Sloane wasn’t just my driver, but as ex-military, also served as head of security. More than that, he was a man I called a friend. A man who harbored secrets, like I did. A wounded soul. Not just physically — I sometimes caught the flash of pain he carefully hid.

  “I’m good. Just dreading the shitstorm of the next couple weeks.”

  Dillon laughed and opened his door. “Still can’t believe you agreed to this.”

  I grunted. I didn’t wait for him to open mine as well, grabbing my briefcase from the seat beside me and stepping out into the cool night as the garage door rumbled down to shut it all out.

  “What time does the taping begin?”

  I scowled at the reminder. “They want me to shoot some interview-style segments that will be woven into the show, but I won’t meet the girls until dusk when they shoot the introduction ceremony.” I air quoted the words. “Something about the lighting and the sun, or some shit like that. They’re planning on doing all the ceremonies when it’s dark for some reason.”

  Dillon nodded. “Want to spar in the morning? Get some of the tension worked out?” He grinned. “I promise I won’t mar your pretty face.”

  I shot him a look. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Punch me into a coma so I can sleep through this entire thing.”

  Dillon laughed. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. I was up here earlier, and some of the contenders are not hard on the eyes.”

  “Want to change places with me?” I eyed his bald head. “We could stick a wig and beard on you. No one would ever know.”

  “No way in hell.”

  I groaned. “That’s what I thought.”

  Slamming the door to the Bentley, I ran a hand over the Alfa Romeo parked next to it then eyed the Jag and Aston Martin that were a stark contrast to the lifted, rugged-looking Jeep beside them. A Land Rover completed the collection, the one I drove the most whenever I found myself behind the wheel. I allowed myself little time for the frivolity of the sports cars, even though I loved owning them. Another little boy dream turned into reality.

  “Should I hide all the keys so you won’t be tempted to run?” Dillon asked with a chuckle.

  “I’ll give you a million dollars to drive me out of here right now.”

  The big man snorted. “And miss all this? No amount of money would be worth missing watching you try to remove all the claws from these she-cats.”

  “You’re fired.”

  Dillon chortled. “Don’t you ever get tired of saying and not meaning that?”

  I ignored him and pushed open the door to my wing of the house, glad I wouldn’t risk bumping into anyone from the show. I probably would have lost my shit if some Mrs. Hamilton-wanna-be batted her eyes in my direction.

  Tossing the suitcase down in my private office, I went straight to the bar and poured a drink.

  “Want one?” I asked Dillon, who set my bag on my bed. I hadn’t needed to bring much. I kept a full wardrobe here and at the penthouse. I didn’t like being weighed down by baggage. I’d carried enough of that around in my life.

  “Naw. I’m going to head to my room unless you need something else. I’m hungry. Want me to have Wanda bring you anything?”

  “Don’t wake her. I might grab something later. Think I might head to the gym and run off some of this stress.” I checked my watch. It was a little after midnight. “Hopefully won’t bump into anyone at this hour.”

  Dillon stifled a yawn. “Want some company? Need someone to fight off your lovely gold diggers?”