The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(41)

The phone rings twice, and she coos, "Riggs. Long time."

"Aria, how've you been?" I question.

"I can't complain. You?"

"Good. I need your assistance."

She laughs. "Of course you do. Why else would you call."

"Guess I'm predictable," I claim.

Aria takes a deep breath, which makes me smile. She's like an open book to me after our time together. Every ounce of air she takes displays a different emotion, and this one has pure adrenaline in it. She inquires, "The woman you bid on?"

"Yes."

"When do you want to meet?" she asks.

Calmness enters me. Getting some assistance to train Blakely while I'm at work is the best idea I've had all day. Aria is the best at what she does. She's never let me down with any previous subs.

Since I bought Blakely at the auction, I have to prove she's fully submitted to me at the two-week mark, or the club will revoke our contract. They'll give an apartment to her in the city. It'll be in a discreet location the club chooses for the remainder of the contract period.

The fine print of the club's paperwork states that Club Indulgence has the final say over everything. It's in the members' contracts and the subs who go up on the auction block. Since Blakely didn't even bother to look at my contract until I forced her to, I doubt she paid attention to the details, not that it's clear what it means.

It's why rule fourteen is in my contract. The one Blakely was fretting over. Every Dom must have it in his contract, as well as rule five stating a safe word, and rule twelve about basic needs being provided for by the Dom. The rest of the rules the club allows the Dom to create. And while I added language to rule five, it was approved by the board when they reviewed my contract.

The mandatory rules ensure subs are being taken care of properly and sever the relationships that aren't working.

So while I told Blakely not to worry about rule fourteen because it's off the table, I was telling a half-truth. It won't be due to my boredom if it gets enacted, but if she doesn't fully submit when it's time to present her to the club, I won't have a choice.

And I'll be damned if I allow that to happen.

I ask Aria, "Can you meet tonight?"

She chirps, "Sorry. I have a date."

"Cancel it. I'm on a timeline. And I need you to stay until she's ready. Please," I add.

Another moment of silence passes.

"Aria—"

"Well, don't beg me. It's not becoming of you, Riggs," she teases.

"You know what the rules are, Flower," I remind her.

"Oh, not fair! You know I still get weak-kneed when you call me that," she scolds.

I chuckle. Flower was the nickname I gave Aria. I assert, "Then say yes to tonight, and you'll hear more of it."

"Ugh. Riggs, I like this guy," she whines.

"Bring him. I'll train him for you," I offer.

Another moment passes, and she lowers her voice, confessing, "He's not in the lifestyle."

My pulse pounds quicker. Aria and I are good friends. There's nothing between us except that, and I care about her well-being. I claim, "You know that'll never work."

She groans. "Things change. People can change."

"No. That's not how our lifestyle works. You'll get bored."

"I won't. He's a really great guy!"

I reprimand, "Aria, you can't go backward."

The line turns silent again.

She says, "Riggs, he's different."

"Then you have to convert him," I declare.

"He says he isn't into it."

"Then dump him," I order.

"No."

"Flower, I'm trying to look out for you," I state, then veer left to avoid a semi.

Horns blare, and I give the driver my middle finger. And I'm frustrated with this entire conversation. I can't risk losing my pet, and Aria will realize after tonight there's no backtracking into old lifestyles once you're in ours. So I use my most commanding voice, demanding, "Loverboy will wait. Tonight, Flower."

She sharply inhales, then stays quiet.

I can imagine her squeezing her thighs together and lightly scratching her neck. And this is exactly why she can't be with a vanilla-sex guy. She needs a Dom. One firm order, and I know I have her, but I still question, "Is that a yes?"

She sighs. "Okay, but you owe me."

"But you love reminiscing so much," I remind her.

She snorts. "Don't push it. Apartment Thirteen?"

I grin. "Always. And bring your stud. Let him learn."

"Hard pass," she says.

"Suit yourself. I need blueish-purple highlights put in your hair, and call Isabella. Tell her to rush over the gold heels and lingerie I bought the other day. Wear it tonight. I'll send a driver around six." I hang up and continue to deal with the traffic. I crack my window but within seconds shut it when the smog seeps into my Porsche.

I almost call Blakely but stop myself. It's too soon for her to hear from me. She needs to wonder what I'm doing and when I'm returning.

When I get to Malibu, I roll the windows down and turn the volume up. I get to my driveway, open the gate, and reverse in.