No in Between (Inside Out #4)(20)

Since Amanda still hasn’t returned, I drop my coat and purse on her desk and head toward the break room. The soft murmur of voices has me peering cautiously around the doorway. Ryan and Amanda stand on the other side of the small kitchen table, facing each other.

He’s leaning close to Amanda, his head dipped low, and he murmurs something that I can’t make out.

Amanda leans away from him, giving me a partial glimpse of her face. “I’m not ready,” she whispers. “I can’t.”

Pretty sure I know what they’re discussing, I curl my hands into fists and it’s all I can do not to shout out my agreement. Of course she’s not ready. She’s a kid, an intern. He’s in his thirties, a Master with a depth of sexual experience.

“You are ready,” he insists, and I’ve had enough.

With a deep breath, I step into the room, and dare the deep muddy waters of butting into someone else’s life. “Ready for what?”

Ryan turns to face me, his light brown eyes skimming my body a bit too intimately. My stomach drops and I’m back in the moment when he and Mark tried to seduce me; when they trapped me, touched me. “Sara,” Ryan says softly, his voice almost as intimate as his inspection had been. “Good to see you. The last time we saw each other was in less than favorable circumstances.”

Is that what he calls Ava trying to kill me?

“I’ve been worried,” he adds. “How are you?”

“As good as any of us can be, under the still unfavorable circumstances.”

His mouth slips into a grim line. “Indeed. It’s not our best year, is it?”

His nonchalance over Rebecca’s death, and almost mine, makes me so angry, I decide no reply is better than what would come out of my mouth.

I focus on Amanda instead. “You’re not ready for what?”

She twists her fingers together in front of her. “Oh, I . . .”

“She wants a promotion,” Ryan offers, “and she’s afraid to ask Mark.”

His explanation is so fast and smooth, his stare so steady and unwavering, that I almost believe him. But I know Amanda almost walked out today and when I look at her, she cuts her gaze away, unintentionally telling me he’s lying. “I can talk to Mark for you,” I offer, pushing for the truth.

Her gaze jerks to mine. “No. Please no. I’m not . . . ready. Not yet. Please. Promise, Sara. Don’t say anything.”

“I’ll wait until you’re ready,” I say. “Just let me know.”

Her shoulders slump with relief. “Thank you. Yes, I will.” She casts Ryan a tentative look. “I’m going to go gather my things.”

She seems to wait for his approval, and he gives it with a nod. Then, and only then, does she rush from the room. Everything about the exchange screams Master and submissive.

I advance on Ryan. “Are you crazy?” I hiss softly. “Rebecca’s dead, and a million eyes are on the gallery and on Mark. This is not the time to be playing Master and submissive with one of the staff members.”

He arches a brow. “Mark? Not Mr. Compton?” He laughs. “He was crazy to think you’d ever call him Master.”

Unease ripples through me at the implication that they’d talked about turning me into their submissive, as they had Rebecca. “No,” I say, my tone crisp. “I wouldn’t, and neither is Amanda. She’s too young and too innocent, and frankly too immature, to take either of you on.”

“No woman in my life has to take me on, Sara. I’m not Mark. I know you read Rebecca’s journals. I can’t believe anything she wrote about me would have said that I was.”

More unease slides through me. He’s just admitted that he’s the other person in the journals. Then Jacob’s warning flickers in my mind, and I wonder if Ryan’s baiting me for information, trying to find out if he’s in the journals. I’m not sure why he’d care, though. Ava killed Rebecca. Didn’t she?

“My point,” I say, “is that now is not the time to bring your lifestyle into the gallery.”

“My lifestyle? Look in the mirror, Sara. It’s yours, too, and if you must know, I called Riptide looking for Mark, who hasn’t exactly been returning anyone’s calls. They told me he was headed here. I called the back-up line, and Amanda started rambling about some strange guy by the door. I was a few blocks away, so I came over to help. Now I’m going to give her a ride home. No games; just me being a gentleman. If Mark shows up, tell him I came by.”

He disappears into the hallway. No matter how he frames the story, I don’t believe his intentions are honorable toward Amanda. I’ve always thought he was less aggressive than Mark, but I’m not so sure anymore. Perhaps he’s the biggest game player of all.





Seven



He shoved me against the wall and then tore my panties off. His lips pressed close to my ear, his breath was hot on my neck, as he said, you know the rules, you know I have to punish you.

Rebecca Mason

Being alone is a unique opportunity to look around—perhaps for the security feed from the camera outside. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but it feels like there’s a missing piece to this puzzle that no one knows. I double-check the security system, then go to my old office. Settling behind the desk, I’m oddly drawn to the haunting painting of the roses again, as if my mind is trying to tell me something. A shiver races down my spine, and I dial Jacob to give him a heads-up that I’m alone.