Still, nothing she’d discovered gave her an answer to her own burning question.

Maybe I’ll never really know why.

Hell, when she’d angrily confronted him the second time, even James couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer. He’d begged for forgiveness, begged her not to leave him.

She’d waited to confront him until after she’d spent the afternoon alternating between throwing up in the bathroom, following his online trail through the different websites, and on the phone with various credit card companies after pulling an online credit report on herself and discovering the full extent of his treachery.

Until after she’d been armed with the truth.

Until after there was no way he could gaslight or sweet-talk his way out of it.

Okay, yes, so mailing copies of everything to his parents had been a tad on the over-the-line side of crazy, but after the shit James put her through, he should count himself lucky she hadn’t mailed copies, along with a report of the criminal fraud he perpetrated, to his boss as well.

It would have cost him his job. Had she decided to press charges, he’d be looking at jail time.

She’d been able to reclaim most of the deposits for the wedding, which gave her nearly three thousand dollars she applied to paying for her move. James promised to one day reimburse her in full.

Not that she would hold her breath. Although before she departed for Florida, he had left her a check for five hundred at the apartment.

No note enclosed.

Asshat.

With a sigh, she hit play and resumed listening.

* * *

Thursday morning didn’t start well. Shayla startled awake on the couch at six o’clock, with a crick in her neck and the headphones still on after having fallen asleep listening to the interview.

“Shoot.” She sat up and tried to ease the pain in her neck. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch.

After briefly considering going to bed to sleep for another hour, she opted to put coffee on and head out for an early walk. Her uneasy dreams still swirled along the perimeters of her brain, images of naked women kneeling at the feet of hunky guys, bullwhips coiled in the men’s hands. Of darkly lit dungeons and screams of pain and pleasure.

What the hell was I thinking taking this assignment?

She pulled on shorts and sneakers and with the sun beginning to lighten the eastern horizon, she left her apartment for the humid, cool Sarasota morning.

Part of her wondered what else she’d discover on this journey.

What if I never find the answers I’m looking for?

Everything Loren and Ross talked about the night before came full circle to the fact that the people involved with each other in healthy dynamics had trust and communication as a foundation. Different levels of trust, sure, depending on what activities they were engaged in.

How do I ever learn to trust anyone again?

She’d trusted James. Loved him. Had been ready to spend the rest of her life with him.

It was nearly seven by the time she returned to her apartment, sweating and breathing heavily after jogging all the way home.

It had been the only way to get the nagging, unanswered questions out of her brain for a little while.

* * *

“You’re still looking a tad vexated,” Bill observed upon her walking into the break room to refill her coffee.

Shayla ducked around him. “I’m fine,” she mumbled.

They were alone in the break room. It surprised her when she heard the door close. Turning, she saw he stood against it. “If this assignment is too much for you,” he softly said, “I don’t have a problem reassigning it.”

She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms in front of her. “No. I want to do it.” She reached up and nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

His arched eyebrow spoke his disbelief.

“Seriously,” she said as she turned to fill her mug. “I…” She took a deep breath to buy herself a second or two. “I’m just trying to digest everything is all. I’ll be fine.”

When she turned back to him, he slowly nodded. “Okay. But if you find it isn’t, I want to know about it. I’d rather you hand it off than cause yourself distress.”

“Understood.”

With a nod he opened the door and left. A moment later she returned to her desk and checked her e-mail, where she found a note from Loren.

Hope we didn’t scare you off last night. If you’d like, I can come to the Submission 101 class with you. We’ll be there on Saturday anyway for the dungeon play following the class. Ross said he’d be happy to sponsor you so you can attend the night play session, and we can introduce you around. That way, we can answer any questions you might have about what you see there.

Shayla drummed her fingers on her desk for a few minutes as she reread the note before replying.

Sure, that sounds great. I appreciate it. I’ll see you there.

Within minutes, she had a reply.

We’re meeting friends for dinner between the end of class and when the dungeon session starts. You’re welcomed to join us. They’re all in the lifestyle.

More finger drumming.

Why am I hesitating? This is my fricking job. She needed to nut up and do it.

She replied. Thanks. Sounds good. Any special dress code for Saturday night?

Loren must have been sitting at her computer. Her reply arrived less than five minutes later.

Nope. Jeans, comfortable shoes, and a blouse are fine. Just no flip-flips or anything like that. Or feel free to dress up, if you want. Everyone will be street-legal for the restaurant anyway. Some people change clothes once they get to the club before they play if they aren’t coming straight from home.

Shayla waited a little while to reply, to clear out some of her other e-mail first.

Thanks. I’ll see you on Saturday.

She paged through notes she’d made the night before.

Now I just have to keep myself from chickening out before Saturday afternoon.

* * *

Loren squealed and held out her phone so Leah and Tilly could both read the e-mail on the screen. Leah held it steady, an ear-to-ear grin filling her face. The three of them were at their weekly Thursday morning girls-only breakfast meet-up, before they went to get their nails done.

“You realize Seth and Ross will beat us in a bad way if they realize we’re ambushing Tony, don’t you?” Leah commented as she released Loren’s hands.

Tilly let out a snort. “You two have to worry about that. I don’t.” She speared a piece of sausage and forked it into her mouth. “That’s one of the benefits of being a switch. I keep telling you girls you need to come over to the Dominant dark side. We have fantastic cookies.”

Loren let out a snort. “I’ve seen you ‘yes, Sir’ Landry more than once.” She poked her friend in the shoulder. “And that wasn’t Cris strapped down to a bench last weekend at the club, either. How’s your ass, by the way?”

Leah laughed as Tilly turned pink. “Don’t pick on her,” Leah said. “We’re all a work in progress.”

Loren laid her phone down. She picked up her fork and bit back the joking reply she’d almost casually let fly. About Tilly being a lucky bitch and having two guys.

Leah, while healthy and happy with her husband and Master, Seth, was barely two years out from having lost her first husband, Master, and Seth’s best friend, Kaden, to cancer. A long, excruciating process that left Leah grief-stricken. For a while, she, too, had two men of her own. The triad she’d longed for for years.

Until they lost Kaden.

“How do we handle things if Valerie is there Saturday?” Loren asked instead.

Leah considered it. “Well, she usually doesn’t come until after nine, so we’d already be back from dinner by then. Unless or until she shows up, I won’t know if we need to run interference or not.”

“You can always set her up to play with Landry,” Tilly offered.

Leah considered it. “That’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Tilly arched an eyebrow at her friend and pulled her long, auburn hair back away from her face. “Seriously? Landry’s always in the mood to give out a beating. Better her ass than mine,” she added.

Loren was glad Tilly had let her hair grow long again. For several years after Cris had left her, she’d cut it super short as well as had it dyed red, a look that harshened her features and added years to her appearance. Upon Landry popping up in her life almost three years earlier with Cris in tow, Tilly had once again learned how to enjoy life.

Especially since Landry was himself now cancer-free.

“We should dub this ‘Operation Trap Tony,’” Loren joked.

“Or ‘Operation Dom Date,’” Tilly added.

Leah pointed her fork at her friends. “The man needs a submissive. I’ve seen him at the club, the way he watches scenes. The look he gets. He’s lonely.”

“He’s a DM,” Tilly quipped. “He’s supposed to pay attention to scenes. It’s his job.”

“No,” Leah insisted with a firm shake of her head. “You don’t understand. He gets this sad look in his eyes. He didn’t used to have that look.”

“What happened with that last girl he dated?” Tilly asked. “I thought you said they hit it off well. Wasn’t she his submissive?”

Leah let out a snort. “They did. She hit it off too well. She gave him an ultimatum that she wanted a commitment from him, or she was gone.”

Tilly winced. “Yowch. Never demand a Dom do anything.”