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A bellhop met us where we were let off and carried the two duffel bags inside the main building, where we crossed a wooden footbridge over a stream complete with river rock. The way it was done, it seemed to be floating, and already, I was impressed.
The reception area was an enormous open atrium, beautifully landscaped, with an enormous waterfall. But the bigger surprise came when I saw a man leading a stunning blonde woman around on a leash.
Aaron’s hand on the small of my back propelled me forward, and at the desk, the clerk—an attractive woman—smiled and said our stay would be taken care of by the owner of the resort, Mr. Wells.
“Oh. That’s very kind of him.” Aaron gave the woman his killer smile, and I watched her swallow her tongue. “But please take my card for incidentals, as I plan to be ordering many.”
She shook her head. “No, Mr. Sutter. He said he knew you would insist, but no.”
“Well, that’s so generous and unexpected. Are you able to tell me, will we be seated at his table this evening?”
“Yes, you will be, Mr. Sutter. Cocktails are at nine in the Red Room.”
“Excellent.”
She furrowed her brow delicately. “I don’t mean to in any way overstep, sir, but does your boy have his collar?”
“He does, and thank you for your concern.”
“I just wouldn’t want him to be mistaken for someone who’s available.”
“Of course not.”
She looked relieved, and her smile returned. “Here are your keys, sir.”
“Thank you so much. Could you please point me in the direction of our bungalow?”
She produced a trifold map and proceeded to give him precise instructions. Once she was done, Aaron took my hand and walked me away from the front, but instead of following the path the nice girl had instructed he take, he veered off toward the balcony.
“What’s going on?”
In answer, he let go of my hand, bent to his courier bag, reached inside it, and brought out a large black velvet box.
“What is this?”
He cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing, there are specific rules at this resort that I guessed at fairly quickly from how Clay Wells acted when we met him.”
I squinted in question.
“This whole scene is based on BDSM, though from what I know of Mr. Wells already, I can tell you that the true scene is not something he knows anything about.”
This was new. “And you do?”
He shrugged. “I tried a long time ago, when I was younger.”
“And?” I asked, interested.
“Like the idea of that, do you? Me held down?”
“Yeah,” I said frankly, the thought of it very hot. “Answer the question.”
“I will be honest and tell you that I lacked both the commitment and discipline for the lifestyle.”
“So you were too big of a flake, is what you’re telling me.”
He laughed and passed me the box.
“What is this?”
