“Did you believe him? What he said about me? Not the part about me being a slag.”

His face went red, and she watched as his hands twitched. “I’ll kill him for that.”

“It’s fine, Damon. It was a refreshing change actually. Usually when people insult me it’s about the fact that I can’t get a date, not that I’m a dirty whore.”

“Like I said, I’ll kill him.”

She shook her head. She’d immediately understood what Champion was doing, but it seemed to have eluded Damon. “They’re just words. And he didn’t really mean them. He was doing the same thing you do. He was manipulating you. He was trying to get you as angry as possible so you would make a mistake. I meant did you believe him when he talked about me being dirty in a non-sexual way?”

He’d claimed he didn’t believe she could be working for The Collective, but had he really believed it?

He laughed, a release of tension. “No. Not for a second. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s that you’re not the betraying type.” His eyes focused on her again. “It’s why I want you.”

“For the mission.”

He remained silent, his look telling her what he wanted her to know.

If only she could believe him, but he was so good at giving a person what they wanted. If she was going to get out of this with a whole heart, she had to guard it herself. “I’d like to see the rest of the place.”

He gestured to the lift. “Of course.”

She followed him, wishing the lift was slightly larger because she was so close to him their fingers touched.

She forced herself to move away, not trusting that she wouldn’t hold his hand.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, he’d shown her the guest floor. He walked beside her, putting off the time when he would have to tell her that she wasn’t staying on this floor. He didn’t want another argument. Since her pronouncement that she wanted to explore BDSM and find her own Dom, she’d been talking about all the ways they could pretend to be a couple without actually having sex.

Like he was going to allow that to happen.

The trouble was his charm wasn’t working. She seemed to see right through it. There had been a moment down in the dungeon when he’d been sure she’d seen right through him, past all his defenses, right down to the fact that he was still a lonely boy who’d been left to fend for himself.

It was pathetic.

“The common rooms are just ahead,” he explained.

“I’m sure they’re lovely. Everything is lovely, Damon.” Her eyes glowed with pleasure, and he wondered how difficult it had been for her in that tiny town house where everything had been utilitarian and drab. Even her bedroom had been spartan, with just a bed and a dresser and a well-organized bookshelf. He’d gone with the clean-up team himself because he’d wanted to see where she lived. Yet again, Penelope Cash proved elusive because he was sure that tiny dull room wasn’t who this woman was on the inside.

And he’d been right because she delighted in the theater of his home. She’d looked around the dungeon with wonder, and he’d wished they were here for different reasons. He’d love to chase her through the garden, catch her, drag her to the soft earth and hear her gasp when he penetrated her.

The woman might just drive him mad.

They were interrupted by raucous laughter coming from a large living area.

“Come along,” Damon said, his tone still serious. He’d been meticulously polite, showing her his building and explaining how it worked. There was a whole floor of offices and a large conference room where they would all meet tomorrow to go over the particulars of the mission. The second and third floors were part of the club, including privacy rooms for members who preferred to play without eyes upon them. The time they had spent together had been awkward, with none of the seemingly easy intimacy from before.

He wanted that back so badly, and he couldn’t even fool himself in to thinking it was all about the operation. He’d enjoyed the day with her.

Then Baz had shown up and it had all gone to hell. He showed her into the guest lounge where Tag and his crew were gathered. “Good evening, everyone. I’d like you to meet the last member of our crew. This is…”

“Pen? Good god. He didn’t tell me your name, just said he’d found someone who would work.” Simon Weston stood up, his handsome face smiling with obvious shock.

And Penelope—shy, retiring Penelope—squealed like a schoolgirl and flew across the room, practically jumping into the bugger’s arms. “Simon, it’s so good to see you!”

He chuckled and pulled her up into a bear hug. “You, too, love. I’m so sorry I left like I did. I didn’t even say good-bye.”

“So you know each other then?” It was an understatement. They obviously knew each other. Perhaps quite well. The idea of Simon bloody Weston getting his overly aristocratic hands on Penelope made him want to shred the bugger. He and Simon had worked together for two years, though Damon never spent a lot of time with him. Simon had worked undercover most of his career, using his society connections to move easily in the business and social worlds.

Penelope turned but kept her arm around Simon’s waist. “When he worked for SIS, we were paired for a few cases. I translated for him.”

“She was fantastic. An amazing code breaker. I was working with the Agency on a terror cell in Malaysia. Pen here didn’t even speak the bloody language, but she cracked the code in forty-eight hours.” The bastard kept his arm around her shoulder, winking down at her.

Penelope’s smile nearly lit up the room. It was good she was happy with someone. “It was a fairly simple code.”

Damon had worked with her a few times as well. He knew how competent she was, but he’d also been smart enough to stay away from her. She’d been engaged at first and then she’d had trouble and then…well, then he’d been almost dead.

The truth was he likely never would have approached her because he knew how dangerous his life could be. And he knew how much she would need from a man. Commitment. Tenderness. Things he wasn’t sure he could give her.

“She helped out when I worked at United One Fund, too.” Simon looked down at her affectionately. “She’s being humble. Don’t believe her. She’s fabulous.”

Damon had worked that particular op as well. Simon had been undercover for a suspected arms dealer who was running a charity as a front for his illegal activities. Now that he thought about it, Nigel had assigned Penny to work on the man’s code, which she’d discovered was buried in letters from potential donors. Simon had fucked up the op, and he’d hired on with Ian.

Simon hugged her again, pulling her up so her toes didn’t touch the ground. “It is so good to see you.”

“You can unhand her now. She can stand perfectly fine on her own.” Damon’s tone held a bite of ice.

Simon eased her to the floor, still chuckling. “And of course I know her, Knight. I made it a point to get to know the girl who made the best biscuits and cakes. I remember she made you a cake. Chocolate, I believe. It was delicious. You wouldn’t know. You didn’t even try a bite.”

He’d hoped no one had noticed. He was allergic to gluten. That sounded stupid. It was just another bloody weakness. Naturally Simon lasered in on it. Damon was pretty sure the man blamed him for the reprimand that led to Simon leaving SIS.

“It’s fine. Not everyone likes cake.” Penelope smiled brightly, obviously trying to defuse the situation. She turned to the rest of the room. “Hello again, Mr. Taggart.”

“God, that makes me sound old. Call me Ian or bastard or son of a bitch. I answer to them all.” Taggart was sitting in a big wingback chair looking like a king on a throne, and there was a naked woman with strawberry blonde hair at his feet. So that was Charlotte’s punishment. He waited to see how Penelope would take it. None of the others in the room seemed even vaguely distracted by the fact that their boss’s wife wasn’t clothed, but Penelope wasn’t used to the lifestyle.

“Hello.” She nodded and smiled, but he could sense the shock in her.

Charlotte grinned up at her. “Hey. How’s it going? Sorry about the way-too-much-of-me part. I mouthed off and this was how Ian chose to punish me.”

“Yeah, because you’re so not an exhibitionist, baby.” Taggart petted his wife’s hair and suddenly didn’t look like he wanted to murder everyone around him.

The only other female in the room walked with a slight limp. Chelsea Dennis was dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly chilly. She gave Penelope a tight-lipped smile. “Hello. I’m the non-exhibitionist of the family. That’s my sister, Charlotte. Only Satan calls her Charlie. I’m here to work tech. I’m Chelsea, by the way. And yes, I know. I’m Chelsea in Chelsea. Jesse already made the joke about forty times.”

“I think it’s funny,” Jesse Murdoch, the newest member of McKay-Taggart, said. He was a younger man with sandy blond hair and a ready smile. “Simon finally got into Chelsea, too. He’s been trying really hard for months to get into Chelsea.”

Simon reached out, his hand coming up to slam the side of Jesse’s head, but the younger man was quite fast. He rolled off the couch and was on his feet before the smack caught him.

“I’m so used to that by now.” He reached out, offering her a big hand. “Jesse Murdoch. I’m pure muscle. Like all muscle. How are you doing today?”

He was practically a bloody infant.

“Why don’t you kill him?” Damon asked Simon. He was a bit sick of men touching his sub. Oh, she might be fighting him at the moment, but she was under his roof and his command.