Page 216 of To Catch a Sub

It was a lovely fantasy, but just a fantasy.

Tired of being alone with her thoughts, she picked up her new untraceable phone, sliding in ear buds. She’d purchased wifi for the flight, and planned to find something to watch.

A number one was superimposed on the email icon.

The only email account on this phone was the new, heavily encrypted one she’d set up to send Landon the goodbye note.

She hesitated, not wanting to read his angry, hurt reply. Not wanting to see the beginning of the end of his love for her rendered in pixels.

Throat dry, she opened the email.

Remember what I told you. This time consider it a threat.

Au revoir,

Landon

Colette stared at the phone. That was…not the response she expected.

Remember what I told you. When, exactly? He’d told her a great many things, so what was he referring to…

I’ll always find you.

He’d said that to her several times. When he rescued her, and she’d barely dared hope he was really there, and then again the night they checked for her new hard limits.

Except instead of a promise, apparently she was supposed to consider those words a threat.

He was going to look for her.

Colette’s traitorous heart leapt, but she squashed the hope before it could root.

She should delete the email. Nothing good could come of replying.

But her self-control wasn’t perfect, because before she could stop herself, she typed out a quick reply and hit send.

* * *

Landon stormed into the club, taking the stairs two at a time and shoving his key into the elaborate lock.

Andrei was lounging on one of the couches, sunlight streaming around him, a laptop propped on his thighs.

Good, Andrei was the one he needed. Landon had been slightly worried they might have changed up the schedule, but it looked like Rolf had gone home, and Andrei was here for his official week. Rolf had extended his time in London to help Landon, but eventually he did have to go back to work to do the non-BDSM club part of his job.

“Landon.” Andrei arched a brow, gaze flicking behind him. “Where’s Colette?”

“Gone.”

“Gone kidnapped, or gone left you?”

Landon snarled. “Gone because she thinks she’s ruining my life and is doing fucking noble sacrifice.”

“That’s irritating.”

“Exactly! I need you to help me find her. Can you track an email?”

Andrei sat up. “Of course.”

“Here.” Landon passed over his phone. Colette’s latest email, a reply to his reply, was open on the screen.