By the manner in which the man had asked the question, Cordell suspected Mitch already knew what he wanted to ask and had the answer at the ready. “What about Tiffany?”
Mitch and Ty exchanged a look before the latter grinned and said, “You owe me a hundred bucks. Told you he was falling for her.”
Well, apparently, Cordell hadn’t been as taciturn as he thought he’d been when it came to his feelings about his current submissive. Not that he cared if anyone else knew, he just didn’t want Tiffany to know yet. When the time was right, he’d make his intentions quite clear to her. He wanted to make sure her feelings for him were mutual, and not just because he was the first long-term Dom she’d had that’d treated her right.
“If Tiffany wants to relocate with you, we’ll have plenty of jobs at the resort for her to choose from. She can stay in the third cottage—”
“She’ll stay in mine.” That is, if he could convince her to make the move with him, provided he decided to take the job. The last thing he was willing to do was to start over without her. She’d brightened his world these last few months and had helped nurse him back to health after the shooting—something he’d told her she didn’t have to do.
Ty chuckled. “Make that two hundred you owe me, babe.”
“Fine,” Mitch said to Cordell, ignoring his fiancé. “She stays with you. Any other questions?”
Cordell couldn’t think of any off the top of his head, but he was sure he’d have plenty after reading through the file. “Not at the moment. Just when do you need my answer?”
“Is a week long enough to think about it?”
A single week to decide whether he wanted to leave the area he’d lived in since he’d been born to relocate to the Florida Keys, hopefully with Tiffany, to start a new life? Well, there wasn’t much holding him there, except the sweet, little submissive he dreamed about at night.
“A week is doable.” Lifting his glass, he made a silent toast to the two men, not letting on he was ninety percent sure what his answer would be.
Sighing, Tiffany scrutinized her surroundings to make sure everything she’d bought on her shopping trip yesterday had been put away and her bedroom was in perfect order. Tidiness was one of the things Master Cordell had insisted upon when she’d moved into the small cottage on his property about a month before he’d been shot. After they’d been in a no-sex D/s relationship for a few weeks, the apartment next to hers had been burglarized. That had been the third one in the complex. Instead of letting Tiffany renew her lease, Sir had given her the use of his guest house. Apparently, it’d been where the mother of one of the former owners had lived. With a single bedroom, small working kitchen, and living/dining room combo, it was the same size as her former place and all she needed.
At first, she’d been hesitant to accept Sir’s offer, since she’d only known him for a few weeks, but after talking it over with Mitch, Ty, and Tori, Tiffany had relented. To be honest, she’d been uneasy at the thought of remaining where she’d been with all the break-ins and the noise from the apartment upstairs. Depending on the night of the week, the couple who lived there had either been fighting or banging the hell out of each other. More than once, Tiffany had been woken up after midnight by them. At one time, it’d been a nice complex, but that had slowly changed over the past three years as old tenants had moved out and new ones moved in. If Sir hadn’t extended his invitation, she probably would’ve looked for another place to live, since there was no way she would ask her mother if she could move back in with her. No way, no how. Not while her mother’s asshole husband still lived there. Regina Armstrong had horrible taste in men and was currently on spouse number five. And those were the ones she’d actually married—there’d been three others whom she’d been engaged to but had never made it down the aisle with. Tiffany had always wished her mother would one day realize her self-respect was worth more than having a guy on her arm or in her bed.
Huh. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, Tiff?
She told her inner conscience to shut up. So, she also hadn’t had luck with the men in her life. It was probably because she hadn’t exactly had a good role model growing up. It amazed her how different her mother was from her sister, Tori’s mom. Aunt Christine was a sweet, smart, and strong woman who owned a small chain of combination hair salons and beauty supply stores in Florida. She’d been married only once, to Tori’s father, and had been widowed only a few short years ago. Had she gone out looking for husband number two before the corpse was cold? Nope, that was only something Regina would’ve done.
A buzzer in the kitchen sounded a moment before Tiffany heard her name being called through the intercom that was connected to the main house. She hurried into the other room and pressed the button on the device. “Yes, Sir?”
“Report to my office, pet, and present for me.”
Her heart rate speed up, and she felt her pussy grow wet, like it always did when he issued a command in that deep, dark voice of his, which just seemed to rumble right through her. Too bad Sir wasn’t attracted to her. Well, he didn’t seem to be. They still had a no-sex contract, and, damn it, she wished he would ask to renegotiate it, because she truly craved the man. The Dom. The one who could make her knees go weak with just a glance and not because it made her afraid. No, definitely not afraid, at least most of the time. His intense stares made her want to do anything and everything he ordered her to do. Unfortunately, sex was never on the list. Yes, he’d gotten her off numerous times, but only during play and while using his fingers or toys. Never with his mouth or cock, and she was dying to know what both felt like.
“Yes, Sir.” Sliding her feet into her sandals, she left her keys and phone behind. With all the security measures the Las Vegas PD lieutenant had on the property, she didn’t need to lock her front door unless she was going out somewhere and Sir wasn’t going to be home. As for her cell phone, that wasn’t allowed when they were in D/s mode. At the very beginning of their contract, Sir had gotten aggravated with all the interruptions from Tiffany’s family and friends. He’d said he wouldn’t have minded if most of them hadn’t been walking all over her. As much as she hated to admit it, he’d been right. A majority of the phone calls had to do with her watching her friends’ kids, loaning them gas money, running errands for them, and many other things they’d promised to reimburse her for and never did. She’d always had a hard time saying no to them and was kind of grateful Sir didn’t have that problem. If he were around when someone wanted her to do them a favor, 99% of the time he’d say no for her. At first, her family and friends had been taken aback by the man they’d thought was her boyfriend—it’d just been easier to tell them that, and Sir had agreed—but it wasn’t long before he’d won almost all of them over. The ones he hadn’t seemed to impress were those who’d used her the most. When they’d realized the immovable, brick wall blocking their way wouldn’t bend or cave, they’d dropped Tiffany flat and moved on to someone else they could use. Tiffany had been surprised when she’d realized she didn’t miss a single one of them.