Chapter 75


    He always forgot how beautiful this ce was. Las Palmas was housed in a gorgeous Spanish-style


    Malibu estate—not the cliff-hugging ocean-view Malibu most people knew. The sprawling estate was


    tucked into one of the canyons of the Santa Monica Mountains. Thendscaping had been redone


    since he wasst here—the greenwns were gone, reced by drought-tolerant desert grasses and


    shrubs.


    The main structure was actually a series of smaller buildings, connected by covered walkways. Each


    building was a hollow square around a roofless courtyard. The sprawling estate also housed a variety


    of other structures. Off to one side was a massive barn. Near it were some more utilitarian buildings


    that functioned almost as a hotel, with members who nned to spend the whole weekend able to


    book sleeping quarters.


    Grabbing a duffle bag from the trunk, Hadrian headed for the doors. It was Friday night, and as he


    crossed the gravel parking area, another car pulled in. Weekends were party time for the rich, famous,


    and kinkily-inclined.


    Once inside, he headed for the Doms’ lounge. The den, as theymonly referred to it, was modeled


    after a traditional European style men’s study or library.


    Wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and robust leather furniture were out of sync with the


    whitewashed walls and red adobe tile roofs, but no lessfortable and elegant for the stylistic


    dissonance. A wall of tall windows bathed the room in sunset light, and beyond the ss golden hills


    sprawled.


    Mikel stood by the well-stocked bar. The overseer had a slim, strong face. His eyes were heavily


    lidded, and seemed to regard the world with a sort ofzy pleasure.


    “Just give me a minute.” Hadrian held up his duffle.


    “Take your time. Your sub isn’t here yet.”


    His sub.


    Something rumbled through Hadrian. It was like far off thunder, thunder that heralded a great storm.


    Hadrian slipped into the elegant changing room—there were lockers, but calling it a locker room


    implied it was something crude and inelegant, when it was anything but. Cherry wood lockers each


    bore a small que with a Master, Mistress, or Owner’s name on it. Back when he’d first joined, he’d


    kept clothes and toys in his locker at all times.


    Hadrian opened his locker, surprised to find there was a shirt hung neatly on a hanger. “Huh. I


    wondered what happened to that shirt.”


    Moving quickly, he unpacked his duffle, then changed out of the workout shorts he’d worn for the drive


    down. An upational hazard of being both a fitness andputer geek was a major aversion to real


    clothing. But for an asion like this, gym shorts wouldn’t do.


    Dressed in a tailored ck suit and a white button-down shirt, he returned to the den. Mikel was seated


    in one of a pair of armchairs positioned by the empty firece. Hadrian joined him, nodding his thanks


    for the drink that waited.


    “I’m d you came,” Mikel said.


    “I told you I would. Wouldn’t want to let down the letter D.”


    Mikel grinned. Hadrian’sment had been mildly amusing, but notedic enough to warrant a grin.


    Why was the overseer smiling like that?


    “Mikel, I’m starting to have a bad feeling.”


    “A bad feeling. Bad like you’re ready to do something interesting? Bad like you need a submissive on


    her knees?”


    “Bad like you haven’t told me everything.”


    Mikel raised his ss, only partially hiding his grin. “You’re a smart man, Master Hadrian.” He took a


    sip. “We have time. Why don’t I show you what you have to work with?”


    Mikel plucked an envelope off the table and passed it over.


    Anticipation rumbled through Hadrian, and when he took a sip of scotch, it tasted warmer and richer


    than it had moments ago. Taking the envelope, he opened the p, shaking out the papers inside.


    It was a slim stack, maybe five sheets in all.


    “The checklist.” Hadrian flipped through the pages. “I…remember filling this out.”


    “Do you? Tell me about it.”


    Hadrian focused on the letter D. “It was a long time ago.”


    “Not so long.”


    “I was a different person.” Young, sessful, drunk on power and love.


    “Were you? That’s disappointing.”


    “Master Mikel.” Hadrian kept his gaze on the paper while anger tightened his shoulders. “I find it best


    not to think too hard about the past.”


    Mikel said nothing.


    Hadrian had a vivid sh of memory—a memory that was more feelings than a specific event.


    If the word everything were an emotion, that was the feeling dominating his memories of that time. He’d


    had everything he wanted and more. He’d known, with such certainty that it was practically faith, that


    everything he wanted was his. That everything the world had to offer was his for the taking. And that


    everything, anything, was possible as long as he had the woman he loved by his side.


    It had been a long time since he’d experienced that “everything” feeling.


    Owned by N?velDrama.Org.


    Hadrian looked at the envelope, cleared his throat. “You said I’d get the checklist for my sub. This is


    nk.”


    Mikel checked his watch. “It’s time. Are you ready?”


    “I’m not going to say yes when I’m sure that you’ve got something up your sleeve.”


    “You sub is waiting for you in the Constetion Court. The Cassiopeia Room.”


    Hadrian opened the envelope, pulled out the list and ripped off the section of the page that included


    everything starting with D. Tucking that in his pocket, he rose.


    Right now “D” stood for “damned,” because that’s how he was starting to feel.