He shook his head. But I don’t want a replacement. He had no intention of replacing his sun goddess with a moon maiden—he just needed a new slave.

Not someone like Abby. The teacher was a Dark Haven staff member. He owed her his protection and some instruction. Nothing more. And he needed to stay within those boundaries despite the temptation to take her home. If he didn’t, she’d end up hurt in the end. Avoiding her would be better; she’d understand without an explanation.

He should ask Simon to find her some experienced, reputable Doms to play with. Yet the idea of her with someone else was unpalatable. As he watched the fog start to dissolve under the weight of the sun, he knew Abby wasn’t the only one who might be hurt.

Mouth tight, he yanked the curtains shut.

At his desk he frowned at the pile in his in-box and the long list of e-mails displayed on the screen. This hadn’t been a productive Monday morning.

Two e-mails and one letter later, his middle-aged administrative assistant tapped on the door before opening it. “Marilee Thompson is here. Rona Demakis sent her.”

“Yes, Rona warned me.” The hospital administrator said Marilee had escaped from an abusive husband and ended up in Rona’s hospital with internal bleeding. Two children. No skills. No job history. Rona suspected the woman couldn’t read.

“Bring her in, please.”

Short and round, Ms. Thompson might have been pretty if her face hadn’t been puffy and purple-green from bruising. Xavier tamped down his anger and motioned toward the sitting area on the far side of the office. “Ms. Thompson, please have a seat.”

“Mr. Leduc.” Clad in an ugly brown skirt and white shirt, she stood straight, hands trembling. “I…I didn’t realize. I’m sorry to have taken your time.” She turned to leave.

He shook his head. Although comfortable, his office was designed for intimidation. Just another tool for a canny businessman to employ. But meeting her downstairs might have been wise. Too late now. “Marilee, if you leave, Rona will yell at me.” He smiled and saw her relax a fraction. “Please, sit.”

She perched on the edge of a leather chair. Abby’s smallest puppy had shown the same timidity when venturing too far from the pack.

Xavier sat on the couch, stretching his legs out. See, I won’t attack. “I admire your courage in leaving your husband and coming all the way here from the Midwest.”

She stared at her hands.

“My mother was in a similar situation. She ran to San Francisco from New Orleans.”

That brought her head up. Her eyes were dark brown, the color of his mother’s. “And she took you along?”

“Not exactly.”

“She left you with him?” Marilee frowned.

“No, she wouldn’t have done that. I was at a European school and didn’t even know she’d left.” When she’d missed her weekly calls, Xavier had called home. His father had been incoherent with rage—and alcohol. Xavier’s lips tightened. He hadn’t known his father had turned abusive, but the neighbor had described his mother’s condition when she ran. “I stowed away on a boat, worked my way across the ocean, then hitchhiked to San Francisco.”

“My goodness. How old were you?”

“I turned seventeen two days after I arrived. I was certain I could help her.” Xavier gave her a rueful look. “Instead I was one more burden.”

“You poor baby.” Her compassionate expression showed she no longer saw him as intimidating but as a child like one of her own.

Softhearted women pulled at him every time.

“My mother deserves the sympathy. She had no marketable skills and ended up holding down three jobs.” She’d insisted he finish school, which meant he could only work part-time. Food wasn’t plentiful; clothes were secondhand, treats nonexistent. Then his father had died, leaving everything to Xavier. At least he’d had a few years to pamper his mother before she died. “But she never gave up.”

Marilee’s spine stiffened in an obvious sign that she wouldn’t quit either.

“Rona said she found you somewhere to stay while you heal. Meantime, we’ll concentrate on finding you a job.”

“Once the doctor gives the okay, I can clean. Bus tables. Do yard work.”

No heavy physical work for a while, Rona had said. But light labor usually required reading. “Marilee, I need you to be honest with me. How much can you read? Do you know your letters? Can you sound out words at all—or do you memorize them?”

Her head went back down, her hands clenched.

He waited patiently. As a Dom he’d learned that silence often extracted more answers than persuasion.

She drew in a slow breath. “I’ve learned the letters—I just can’t do anything with them. I memorize what words look like.”

“Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy to share.”

With his smile, she relaxed. “Job hunting isn’t easy. Not when…”

“Stella’s will find you a job, and unless you object, we’ll get you reading classes as well.”

The spark of hope in her dark brown eyes was his reward.

After she’d left, Mrs. Benton came into his office. “I helped Ms. Thompson set up an appointment tomorrow at Stella’s.”

“Excellent. Have one of the secretaries—a kind one—assist her in filling out an application.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Benton waited, not bothering to take notes. The woman had a trapdoor memory.

He rubbed his chin, considering. Pam Harkness wasn’t the most experienced placement counselor but had a way with frightened women. “Assign her to Ms. Harkness. Let her know we need to find Marilee a job, or Simon will kill me.”

His admin laughed. “We’ll do our best.” And they would, simply because they cared.

Most of the Leduc Industries and Stella’s personnel had experienced the same nightmare—lacking skills and unable to find a job.

“I will entrust her to your care, then. Thank you, Mrs. Benton, and please keep me informed as to her progress.” As the door closed, Xavier smiled. When he’d hired the insecure, almost-in-tears Mrs. Benton, he’d never imagined how a degree in business would transform her into someone so formidable.

Xavier turned back to his work, firmly putting aside his new ghost—one with wispy blonde hair, pale skin, and unhappy eyes the color of the fog outside.

* * *

So. What now? After her Saturday receptionist duty, Abby walked through the crowd on Dark Haven’s main floor, trying not to look for Xavier.

He hadn’t shown up on Friday. DeVries—Xavier’s Enforcer—had uncollared her and Lindsey. Abby’d been nervous, but he’d grinned and reminded her that he couldn’t whip her without Xavier’s permission. After he’d strolled away, Lindsey admitted the Dom scared her—almost as much as he turned her on.

Talk about insanity. Being attracted to deVries was like a moth saying, Hey, let’s go check out that awesome bonfire.

Unfortunately Abby had also flown too close to a fire—the dangerous one called my liege.

This evening Xavier had arrived late, and when he’d come into the reception area, he’d been distant, both emotionally and physically. She hadn’t realized how often he’d invaded her personal space until he stopped. Her wings were definitely scorched, and she’d hit the ground hard.

Pulling in a pain-filled breath, Abby looked at the people around her. Mistress Angela was in a latex bra, mesh tank top, and latex pants tucked into lace-up, knee-high boots. Her submissive wore only a loosely woven mesh dress.

Last week Xavier had decided the current fetwear was boring and arbitrarily declared Saturday a “see-through” or mesh night. Apparently his quirks were well-known, and the members always checked the club calendar for surprises. She had to admit, some people had a real talent for dressing up.

Wanting to look good, Abby had bought a prom dress from a secondhand store. She’d worn only the overlay, and her white skin showed clearly from under the soft pink lace. The Doms had been giving her lingering looks of appreciation.

Xavier hadn’t even noticed.

It hurt. Moron, you let yourself get attached. She’d blindly followed a trail that had petered out, leaving her lost and unsure what to do. She bit her lip. Whatever stupid thing she’d done during sex must have been bad, since he’d already been retreating when she rose from the bed.

The sound of bickering caught her attention. She looked to see a Dom and his partner arguing over the submissive’s flirtatious ways.

I’m here to observe. Nothing else. Taking mental notes, Abby chose a nearby table. If she didn’t get her research done, she was doomed.

Around her, people talked, laughed, and danced to the industrial rock music. She leaned her arms on the table and stared at the grain of the wood. If only the project were over, she could go home and not return. But she had a job to do.

“How’re you doing, girlfriend?” Dixon sat down beside her and pushed over a can of diet soda. “You look like you need this.”

Totally out of the blue, her eyes pooled with tears.

“Oh, shit, don’t do that.” He scooted his chair closer and patted her hand frantically. “If the big boss thinks I made you cry, he’ll give me over to the Enforcer, and I’ll get caned, and not in a good way.

She sniffled and managed to laugh. “Sorry.” What was the matter with her? She rarely cried—and never, ever in public. But her emotions felt abraded to the point of bleeding. “Xavier won’t care. No worries.”

Dixon’s eyes rounded. “Christ on a crutch, you’re why he’s in such a pissy mood?”

Her hopes lifted…and crashed back down. “Don’t think so.”