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Her heart pounded in her chest as butterflies took flight in her stomach. She silently begged the gods of Fate not to do this to her again. If she were paired with Landon, she would only have two choices—leave and lose her membership to the best BDSM club around or spend the next few hours scening with her ex-husband. Not an easy choice, in her opinion.
While she had houses or apartments in other cities around the world and belonged to private BDSM clubs near each, her home in South Tampa was her favorite and where she spent most of her free time.
“Master Landon, you’re . . . uh, it’s your turn!” Mistress China called out hesitantly, catching Clarissa’s attention. The usually unflappable Domme had apparently just noticed the former spouses were both participating in the event and still unpaired with anyone else.
Oh, God. This isn’t good. Clarissa glanced at the two other remaining submissives. One she recognized, but her brain was such a mess she couldn’t recall the woman’s name if her life depended on it right then. And she had no idea who the other woman was—probably a new member she hadn’t met yet.
Either way, it didn’t matter.
As Landon strode onto the stage, Clarissa stood ramrod straight, her gaze flittering toward Master Ian, who still leaned against the pillar across from her with his arms crossed as he stared her down. It was almost as if he knew Landon would draw her name, and he waited to see her reaction.
She swallowed hard, trembling as the chatter and other noises in the room faded from her consciousness until all she heard was the pounding of her pulse. She closed her eyes and waited for Mistress China to announce her fate.
“Master Landon, your submissive for the event is . . . um, Clarissa!”
There were several audible gasps from the crowd, followed by some murmuring. Her heart sank, and she didn’t move. Not toward the steps. Not toward the exit.
“Clarissa, please join us on the stage.” The Domme’s command was filled with a combination of authority and sympathy. Clarissa had spent enough time with Charlotte and several other female members outside the club to the point they called each other friends. Still, Mistress China demanded respect and obedience in The Covenant, as did every other Dominant. She would be disappointed if Clarissa caused a scene.
Tears of anguish stung her eyes, but she finally opened them, blinking several times as she gathered her composure while still wishing a black hole would open under her feet and swallow her.
You’re strong—you can do this. It’s only for a few hours, and then it’ll be over. Don’t let him or anyone else see you cry.
It took her a moment to realize the room had gone silent, and everyone was staring at her. Licking her lips, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, and somehow, she managed to get up the few steps to the stage without falling. A shiver went down her spine when her gaze met Landon’s. There was no smirk of satisfaction or triumph on his face, nor any other readable expression, other than . . . love?
If Clarissa wasn’t mistaken, that look in his eyes was the same one she’d seen while walking down the aisle to marry him.
No, your mind is playing tricks on you.
When she stopped in front of Mistress China, her friend gave her a reassuring nod before mouthing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he’d be here.”
Clarissa wouldn’t have signed up for the event if she’d heard there was the slightest chance that Landon would be there. If any of the women she was friends with, Dominants or submissives, knew he was coming tonight, they undoubtedly would’ve warned her. Clearly, only a scarce few had known.
Shaking her head slightly, Clarissa whispered, “It’s okay.”
Well, it really wasn’t okay, but it wasn’t the Domme’s fault for the mess Clarissa suddenly found herself in. No one else was to blame except for her and Landon—and maybe the owners of The Covenant, the rat bastards. If she could only go back in time to a few weeks ago, when she’d signed up for the event, she would kick her own ass for even thinking of it.
Master Mitch handed Landon the wooden chip. “Drop it on the board to find out what your scene will involve.”
Landon placed the chip flat against the top of the board and slid it a few inches to the left of dead center before releasing it. Clarissa watched the bouncing chip that would decide the rest of her fate for the evening until it landed in the fourth slot from the right.
“Breath play,” Master Mitch announced. “That’s on both of your red-limit lists, so it’s a do-over.”
It was torturous enough the first time, and now she had to wait for Landon to do it again? The universe had to hate her right then for some reason. It was the only thing she could think of for why this was all happening.
Picking up the chip, Landon repeated the process. When it fell into a different slot, the club’s manager called out, “Humiliation play!”
Well, that was right on target. They hadn’t even started yet, and she was already humiliated. Wonderful.
When Landon reached out to take her arm, she stepped back, shying away from him. She wasn’t ready for him to touch her and wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready again. But when her gaze shifted to Master Mitch, who frowned at her, she knew she had to suck it up.
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, then moved toward Landon, allowing him to gently close his hand around her upper arm and lead her off the stage. They passed Mister Ian, and his steely gaze followed them. She was sure it was on the tip of his tongue to remind her about the threat of being banned, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. That cold, hard stare told her all she needed to know.
Landon found them a spot near another pillar, out of everyone else’s way, where they could stand while waiting for the remaining Doms and subs to be paired up. Surprisingly, he hadn’t said a word to her yet. That was unlike him, but then again, she had barely acknowledged his presence since joining him on the stage.
If someone had asked her the names of the people she knew surrounding her at that moment, she wouldn’t have been able to come up with a single one. Her mind spun out of control to the point it almost seemed like the entire room was listing to one side, making her feel off-kilter.
Three hours. She had to scene with her ex-husband for the next three damn hours. Why, oh, why had she let Luna and Abigail talk her into this? Biting her tongue lightly, she tried not to let loose a string of curses damning Landon to Hell.
