Bound To Protect. Anya Summers
a vulture among them waiting for the perfect moment to strike and rip him to shreds.
“That should be all for now,” James stated, closing his file.
“Great.” Michael rose, grabbed his briefcase, and nodded. “You may contact my assistant to schedule the review.”
He left the conference room. They had an intruder at Club Underworld. It was the only explanation that made sense. Michael was uber careful; they all were. They had non-disclosure agreements for members for a reason. He didn’t stop at Barbara’s office. Instead, he direct messaged her, telling her that something had come up and he needed her to cancel the rest of his appointments for today. And to give his regards to the Senator.
In his car—today he’d chosen to drive his black Bentley—he called Dante.
“Yo, what’s up?” Dante answered.
“We have a major fucking problem. Email the founders. Emergency meeting as soon as everyone can make it to the penthouse.”
“What the hell? I thought you had a board meeting.”
“I did. Someone knows about us, about our activities at the club, and is leaking that information to members of the board to get me not only removed from the board, but as CEO of my own fucking company.”
“Son of a bitch. I’m on it. When can you get here?” Dante asked him.
Michael switched lanes on the freeway, heading toward the exit for interstate ten from the six-ten. “I’m on my way now. Barbara is cancelling my appointments for the day. Oh, and Dante, we need to find me a fake fiancée on the double—one who will agree to a non-disclosure agreement. Start combing through the single submissives at Underworld looking at whom we might be able to vet.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ. It would be easier for me to resurrect Marie Laveau. No offense to the subs, but none of them will be on the level that you would need to convince the board.”
“I already mentioned it was someone they wouldn’t know, hopefully indicating they aren’t of the same class. Be there shortly. We can talk more about it then.” Michael hung up. Fury had him punching the gas. Dan was behind it, he had to be. Michael knew the son of a bitch was a climber, but he had never expected this type of subterfuge. That Dan would convince a member of Michael’s inner sanctum to collect dirt on his lifestyle.
Michael would discover who was behind the betrayal, and crush the motherfucker.
Chapter 2
The penthouse on the fifth floor above Club Underworld boasted an unobstructed view of the Mississippi River Delta on its path to join the Gulf of Mexico. Michael stood at the window, as he had on countless occasions, watching the barges and Navy vessels, the daily pleasure cruises and cruise ships bound for a trip around the gulf as the setting sun cast a gleaming orange shadow on the wide berth of silver water. Spring bloomed in a rampage of color along the banks.
It only added to the festive nature of the Quarter and his city.
He stayed at the window, still as a statue, his thoughts tumbling in a riot through his mind while he waited for his friends—the founders of Club Underworld—to arrive to discuss the betrayer within their midst. If they had a breach, someone willing to disclose his private information for a price, then it meant they were all at risk of exposure. There were reasons why they had put the safeguards in place.
Who had Dan insinuated into Michael’s club? Quinten had some of the most high-tech background research programs available, on par with what the FBI and CIA used. But still they had missed this, allowed a snake into their private Eden.
And now, somehow, Michael needed to locate a willing female to pretend to be his fake fiancée until a decision on the board was reached. Just where in the hell would he find a woman who wouldn’t take her story to the press even with a solid non-disclose agreement? Especially since the façade of the engagement would need to extend past the thirty days—say, upwards of three months—otherwise it would look suspicious. Granted, she would only need to live with him and be seen with him at events over the next thirty days.
At the crowd of voices behind him, Michael turned. The elevator softly dinged, bringing with it the last of their founding members: eight in all, including himself. Dante handed out drinks as each member took a seat on the black leather Chesterfield sofas in the living room. Michael had already availed himself of a Scotch earlier in the day, and needed a clear head for this meeting. They were all tall, commanding men in their own right, and all were the best Doms he knew. Michael trusted the men in this room, bar none.
“What the hell is this about?” Graham asked with a tilt of his head, his face lined with dark chestnut scruff. At least he hadn’t shown up in his construction gear, and had opted for clean jeans and a tee.
“Yeah, I had to rearrange my shift tonight,” Killian stated, leaning back with an arm over the backrest. The pretty boy firefighter made the subs and female population swoon with his looks—something the man took full advantage of whenever he could.
The tallest in the bunch, with a power-packed build that made him a bruiser on the rugby field, Hudson’s bald dome gleamed in the light as he sipped his beer and shrugged. “Michael wouldn’t call us together like this unless it was of vital importance. Just be glad I’m here and not on the road.”
“If we could wrap it up quickly, I have an early surgical shift at the hospital,” Luc commented with a glance at his watch. Early shift at the hospital meant up before dawn and the rest of the world got out of bed.
“Thank you all for coming at such short notice,” Michael stated, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs as he addressed the room.
Ramsey, in cargo shorts that displayed his prosthetic leg, commented, “You can dispense with the formalities, Michael. Just tell us what the hell is going on.”
“But he likes to expound on formalities,” Quinten added. His badge still hung around his neck, which meant he’d not even made it home from his shift at the police department.
“Listen up, can we stop with the chit chat? We have a big fucking problem. Michael could get started a lot faster if you idiots would shut the fuck up for two seconds,” Dante snapped. The man was Michael’s best friend and partner in crime. This betrayal affected him as much as it did Michael—and the life they had created, topping submissives together. They tended to play up the angel and devil angle, since Dante was Michael’s opposite in looks, with his dark hair and eyes.
Eyebrows around the room rose at Dante’s outburst. Michael steepled his hands, with his elbows on his knees. “Dante isn’t wrong. We do have a big problem. I was called to an emergency board meeting at one of my companies this morning, where I heard it has been leaked that I like to top subs with Dante.”
“What the fuck?” Killian exclaimed.
“How?” Hudson commented.
Michael held up a hand. “That’s exactly what we need to figure out. The how and the why. Although, I have a feeling I know the why.”
Leaning forward with a hard glint in his gaze, Quinten said, “You think it was a club member.”
Michael nodded. “I do. And someone who has access to our VIP level, which should help narrow down the search.”
“Should we shut the club down for the next month—our level, at least?” Luc asked.
Ramsey shook his head. “No. I don’t think we should, not if we’re going to find the culprit. We shut it down, they will pass that along to whomever is behind the breach at your company.”
“You’re correct. The board is investigating, and we meet in thirty days. Which means we have less time than that to uncover who is leaking information, how they slipped past our radar, and how they are connected to members of the board. I hate to say it, Quinten, but a lot of the investigation will fall on your shoulders.”
Hudson