Paparazzi

Richard had invited me to meet him at the Virgin Hotel, and the irony didn’t get past me. He wanted a secret liaison where we could explore our first BDSM encounter together. Neither of us would risk a meeting at our homes. Police protection was watching over me. Last week I’d drawn too much media attention when I went to Richard’s apartment with Assad. Now, the paparazzi was watching us both. There were too many eyes on our personal lives.

My request to lose Travis for the night didn’t fly with Richard. And recalling Domie’s warning, I agreed.

Derek Stone is a scapegoat. The killer’s still out there.

After swimming that night, I sat at my kitchen counter, a big glass of wine in my hand. Gazing at the note, I set the glass down and removed the collar necklace. With it splayed out beside the Richard’s gifts—the rose and the invitation—I realized what he wanted. The question was, was I ready? This was what I’d wanted for so long. He was what I wanted. From a relationship standpoint, fro