And as I thought, I realized something else—Cole was like me. Not that he needed to submit, but that he needed to dominate. He hadn’t just wanted to spank and pinch me, he’d needed to. Just now. Last night. Because without that, he couldn’t have reached orgasm any more than I could.
Hadn’t he told me as much when I’d come to his door, boldly demanding that he fuck me? I like it, he’d said, talking about inflicting pain. I need it.
I didn’t know what, but I was certain that he was able to empathize with me because something had happened to him, too. Something that kept him from coming unless he could pull himself over by grabbing onto the red threads of pain.
I was tempted to ask him to tell me. I didn’t, though. He’d tell me eventually, and right then, it was enough to simply understand him. And to know that somehow—through all the crazy shit that had made us who we were—we had ended up in each other’s arms.
sixteen
I followed Cole out of the ladies’ room, ignoring the curious stares from the two women who were entering as we were leaving.
“Oh. My. God,” I said, but Cole just grinned.
“You ready to see your dad?”
“Are you kidding? Of course.”
“Then let’s go.” He led the way down the hall, then to a service elevator.
I frowned as he punched the call button. “We’re going up to see Tyler and Sloane? I thought you were taking me to my dad.”
He stepped into the car. “I am.”
The elevator let us off on the sixth floor, and I followed Cole down the hall toward a corner room. “The Jahn Foundation keeps a suite here for out-of-town visitors. It’s ironic, but the more money you spend on someone, the more often they will donate to a cause.”
The Jahn Foundation, where Angie now worked, had been endowed by Howard Jahn as a charitable foundation with a primary purpose of preservation, restoration, and education regarding all forms of art. All three of the knights sat on the board of directors, so it didn’t surprise me that Cole had access to this suite.
“What about security?” I asked as we paused in front of the door. “There are surely cameras in the elevators and halls.”
“The odds of Muratti checking those are slim. But,” he added before I could voice my protest, “we took precautions anyway. Wig, mustache, lifts in his shoes. We aren’t new to the game, Kat. Remember that.”
“I do,” I said. “But it’s my dad.”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “I know.”
“What about maids?” I asked as he tapped three times on the door. “Room service?”
“Taken care of,” Cole said. “No one sees him.” The door opened, revealing a perky girl in her early twenties who looked vaguely familiar.
“Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping back so that we could enter.
“Darcy, you remember Kat? She’s Maury’s daughter.”
“He’s such a nice man,” Darcy said, holding out her hand for me to shake. “And we’ve met at Destiny. I used to dance there.”
“Darcy’s going back to school in the fall,” Cole said. “She’s taking a few college prep courses now, so we made a deal. She hangs out with your dad, answers the door and keeps him out of sight, and she can get paid for spending the rest of her time studying.”
“Not bad,” I said.
“It’s a great gig,” Darcy said, looking at Cole with something close to hero worship.
“Um, can I see him?”
“Huh? Oh! Right. Come on.” Darcy led the way into the suite, a still elegant but much smaller version of the one Tyler and Sloane occupied. “He goes into one of the bedrooms when anyone comes—maids or room service or maintenance. Hang on.” She bounced across the room, then disappeared down a short hall. I heard her tap on a door and call for him. A moment later, my father walked into the room, a wide grin spread across his face, and his arms held out wide for me.
I hugged him tight, then stepped back to look at him. He looked calm and rested—the fear I’d seen on his face when he’d come to my apartment had all but been erased. I eased closer to Cole and took his hand in a silent thank-you, because he’d played a huge part in erasing that worry.
We settled in the living room, me perched on the arm of the couch so I could be close to my dad, and Cole standing near the window, looking out at the city. Darcy played hostess, offering coffee or wine or something stronger.
I went for the stronger.
“You’re doing okay, Daddy? Not getting restless?”
“You know me, I’m always restless. But I’m content to stay put until your young man here tells me otherwise.”
“Good,” I said. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble, and he knows what he’s doing. You listen to him.”
“I am. You’ve got a good man there, taking care of me. Taking care of you. I didn’t want to put you at risk, kiddo, I really didn’t. But I’m glad I came.”
I sighed. “I am, too, Daddy. I just want you to stay safe.”
I made him promise a dozen or so more times that he’d follow all the rules and not do anything stupid.
“I did a bit more poking around,” Cole said, leaving the window to join us. “The property is prime, and although Frederick Charles doesn’t want to sell to Muratti, that’s not because he’s looking to develop the property himself or expects his niece to after she inherits.”
“He just doesn’t want to sell to a mafia guy,” I said.