Honestly, though, he could have left word so she didn’t have to fight off territorial bulldogs.

As she picked up a magazine, she glanced at the reception desk. The woman had summoned a security guard. For heaven’s sake.

“She says she’s picking up Mr. Leduc,” Ms. Bulldog said in a low tone.

Abby looked down before the guard turned. He made a laughing sound. “She’s sure nothing like his usual lady friends.”

“Exactly. I’m calling Mrs. Benton now. Can you show her out when his admin tells me she’s never heard of her?” Clicking sounds. “Yes, Mrs. Benton, I have an Abigail here saying she’s supposed to pick up Mr.— Excuse me? Send her up if she wouldn’t mind?” The bulldog actually sputtered.

Abby smothered a grin. Okay, Xavier, you’re forgiven all the nasty thoughts.

“Miss?”

She looked up. The security guard smiled politely. Respectfully. “I’ll escort you up.”

The guard used a locked elevator at the end of the elevator banks. When he punched the highest button, Abby’s stomach roiled like she’d chugged a soda.

She swallowed. “Does this building have a name? I didn’t see a sign.”

“Nah. Something smashed it in the last storm, and the new one isn’t finished yet. Leduc Industries, it’s called.”

“The whole building?” Oh, this isn’t good. Whether it felt like stalking or not, she should have googled the man. She felt like thumping her head against the elevator door. “How many Leducs are there?”

The door slid open silently, and the guard stepped out with her. The creamy carpet was thick enough to drown in, and the statuary looked much like what was in Xavier’s home.

“How many?” He gave her a startled look “Just the one.”

Abby closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. Don’t be a moron—Xavier is the same man. He hadn’t changed because she learned he had a bit more money than a club owner did. A whole lot more money. Don’t get all weird. Even as she told herself that, she wished she’d worn something nicer than jeans, running shoes, and a hooded sweatshirt.

“You must be Dr. Bern.” The brunette woman rose from behind the desk. Her brown eyes were surprisingly welcoming. “I’m Mrs. Benton, Mr. Leduc’s administrative assistant. Let me show you the way.”

But it wasn’t necessary. An office door opened, and Xavier wheeled himself out. Or tried to. The plush carpet wasn’t wheelchair friendly, especially when he couldn’t use both arms. He smiled a welcome, but the muscles of his face were tight, his cheekbones stark, and his color almost gray. “Abby, I’m—”

“You didn’t take any pain meds, did you? Or use ice packs.” She glared. “Or let anyone help you.”

He looked taken aback for a second, then burst into laughter. The admin and guard seemed appalled.

“Abby, you are a wonder.” He held his hand out. As his fingers closed around hers, she realized she’d automatically crossed the room. The man could command her without a word.

“And you’re too stubborn for words,” she said under her breath. She turned. “Mrs. Benton, could you get him a glass of water?”

“Of course.” The woman studied Abby. “You mentioned ice packs. I can contrive one of sorts, if you’d like?”

No wonder Xavier had her. “Two, if you could? That would be wonderful.”

After giving Xavier a deferential nod, the guard popped back into the elevator.

As Abby searched her purse for ibuprofen, Xavier chuckled. “You, little fluff, are fully as stubborn as I am. If you don’t mind waiting for about ten minutes, I have one last call to finish.”

“No problem.”

“You can come in with me or wait out here, wherever you’re more comfortable.”

Wait in the reception area? Not a chance. When he tried to turn his wheelchair, she gave a snort of exasperation and pushed him back into his office.

“Nice place you have.” From the waist up, two whole walls were glass, opening to a spectacular view of the city. His desk was gleaming walnut with matching chairs in front. A dark leather couch and chairs sat off to one side. She approved of the huge painting of a French café. She’d had a glass of wine there last time she’d been in Paris.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her. “Did you get the pups settled in?”

“Moved and fed and sleeping.” Since his office chair had been pushed into a corner, Abby maneuvered Xavier behind his desk. With a frown of concern, she raised the foot part of the wheelchair to elevate his leg. “Your ankle is swollen again.”

“Is it?” Laughter in his eyes, he ran a finger over her scowling lips.

“It’s not funny, you—”

“Maybe these will help.” Mrs. Benton handed Xavier the water. Abby received two plastic bags filled with ice.

“Thank you very much.” Abby gave the admin a smile and Xavier another frown. After positioning the packs, she retreated to the couch while Xavier took his pills and made his phone call.

A minute later Mrs. Benton brought a pile of magazines and a tray with a cup and tiny pot of tea, sugar, and lemon slices. “When the receptionist downstairs called up, Mr. Leduc mentioned you enjoy tea with lemon.”

He’d not only thought about her comfort, but remembered what she liked. The knowledge made her feel fuzzy and warm.

Then again, considering he knew her so well, how badly would that come back to bite her at the club? Her insides clenched as she remembered the plan for Friday—punishment at Dark Haven.

No point in imagining herself into hysterics, though. She picked up a magazine, leafed through the pages, and eavesdropped on his conversation.

He was trying to get a woman into some kind of a job, but her reading skills weren’t up to the employer’s qualifications. In fact, the woman sounded functionally illiterate.

With a growl of frustration, Xavier ended the conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked.

He rubbed his face, looking tired. “Rona took an interest in a patient in her hospital and wanted us to find her a job. She’s had recent surgery. Unfortunately she has no skills and can’t read. It’s not looking good.”

I am so confused. “Who’s us, and what exactly do you do here?”

He glanced at her, then smiled. “We never discussed my occupation, did we?” He leaned back, making the wheelchair look like a throne. My liege, indeed. “Leduc Industries owns a variety of businesses. I prefer to acquire hotels, cleaning and landscaping services, food prep—places that can employ women who are down on their luck, like those who are newly divorced or support themselves and their children.”

Amazing. “But how can you screen for that kind of background?”

He grinned. “A nonprofit organization, Stella’s Employment Services, has the first few floors of the building. They handle applications, training, and referrals. Their applicants are encouraged to keep learning, to move up and out, going on to better jobs and better lives.”

“Don’t tell me—you own the employment service as well? Isn’t that rather altruistic for a hard-nosed businessman.”

He gave her a Gallic shrug. “I saw the struggle my mother went through to find a job after my father divorced her. The employment market isn’t friendly to the unskilled.”

A light was beginning to dawn. “What was your mother’s name?”

“Clever professor.” His lips quirked up. “Her name was Stella.”

First he was the owner of a kink club, then a big-shot CEO, and now a tenderhearted man running a charity because of his mother. She felt dizzy. Intimidating on the outside, but inside? This was the man who’d insisted on helping her feed puppies. Who let a little boy check out his long braid. Who let a punished submissive cry on his shoulder.

“I haven’t run into the literacy problem before.” His frown turned to concern. “Women must fill out applications in the office. I didn’t realize the restriction might be a problem, but someone who couldn’t read wouldn’t even apply.”

“’Fraid not. Around twenty to thirty million Americans lack the reading ability to fill out a job application.”

He eyed her. “The professor checks out statistics on literacy?”

“I told you I teach reading. That’s why I couldn’t attend the club’s classes.”

Elbow on the side arm of the chair, he rubbed a finger over his lips. “Well, Professor Bern, at the time I assumed you were a grade-school teacher. Teaching subjects like reading, writing, and arithmetic.”

How mixed up could things have gotten? “I volunteer for a local literacy project, teaching women to read.” She smiled. “The program is booked solid, but I’m allowed some leeway. Want me to add your person to my class?”

“You’re full of surprises.”

“Back at you, my liege. You might have mentioned you do more than own a BDSM club.”

“True.” His gaze heated. “We have a lot of…exploring…yet to do.” Giving her that imperial stare, he crooked a finger at her.

Her pulse started to speed. When she reached his chair, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her down for a long, hot kiss. As her head spun, she braced herself on the arms of his chair.

He gave a rumbling sound of satisfaction. “Keep your hands right there.” His deep voice had roughened. He released her hair and slid his hand under her shirt. By tugging her bra upward, he freed one breast to fondle. His gaze on her face, he rolled a nipple between his fingers.

She pulled in a hard breath, caught his exotic scent, and felt the dampness growing between her legs.

“I have plans for you, little fluff,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”

After straightening her clothing, she wheeled him out. When they reached Mrs. Benton’s desk, the woman bade him a polite good night before turning to Abby. “He said a power chair wouldn’t fit in a car, but there’s no law against keeping one here. I’ve ordered one, and he’ll use it, even if only for a few more days.” She shook her head. “I have two teenage boys, and I know the drill for injuries: ice, elevate, and pain meds. Tomorrow I’ll ignore his growling and take better care of him.”