I Married a Master(48)
Author: Melanie Marchande

Maddy and Daniel returned from their corner, without actually having disappeared into one of the mysterious back rooms, where I assumed all kinds of debauchery took place.

Ben was angry, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to talk my way out of this one. Nor did I want to, really. I wasn’t exactly alone in thinking this whole thing was more than little bit weird.

"Oh my God. Dan. Look." Ben jerked his head towards the front of the room. "Three o’ clock. Who let him back in here?"

I followed his gaze, spotting a tall, ruddy-faced, lanky man in a white suit. He had a stringy brown ponytail hanging down his back, and an ill-fitting fedora perched on his head. Judging by his hand gestures, that very hat was the main substance of whatever argument he was having with the bouncer.

Finally, he handed it over, stalking into the room in a huff.

"Oh Jesus," Daniel muttered. "With the hat, again."

"The dress code is very clear," Ben explained, glancing at Maddy and me. "No hats. He’s been fighting that since day one. He finally got himself banned a couple years back when he made a stink about some other meaningless bullshit, but apparently somebody decided it was a good idea to let him back in."

"Danny!" Fedora guy bellowed, coming over to clap both men on the shoulder. "Benji! I haven’t seen you in ages."

He turned to both of us, and the men sidled closer, as if on cue. Daniel’s arm wrapped around Maddy’s waist, slowly pulling her out of fedora guy’s tractor beam.

"Milady," he said, offering me his hand. I shook it, gingerly, which seemed to put him off. "I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Master Jordan."

"Jordan," said Ben, firmly. "You don’t have to call him Master if you’re not his sub."

Jordan’s lip twisted into a sneer. "Since when do you make the rules, Benji?"

"I’m just explaining the etiquette," he said, calmly. "It’s her first time."

"She under your protection?" His eyes had a hungry glint to them, and I didn’t like them at all. His attitude and his bearing stood out like a sore thumb among all these people, subtle and classy and respectful, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the setting. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the whole scene was so new to me, and I didn’t want to charge in here like a bull in a china shop and offend everybody.

I mean, not unless he gave me a really good reason.

"Yes," said Ben, stiffly. "But she’s just testing out the waters."

"Well, you’d better snap her up quick," he half-smiled, half-sneered. "She’s going to be very popular around here."

Ben’s lips thinned. "Thank you for the advice," he said.

"I mean, she’s got it all." Jordan’s eyes slid over my body, and I shivered. "But especially those breeding hips."

My mouth falling open, I took half a second to try and formulate my nuclear-level fuck off response before I saw the fire flash in Ben’s eyes – and his body lunge forward, his fist connecting with Jordan’s swollen face.

Crack.

Jordan let out the most undignified scream imaginable, pitching forward with both hands clutching his injury. Two huge men in suits immediately descended on us from God knows where, creating a physical barrier between Ben and Jordan. Moments later, a very important-looking woman in a sleek pantsuit appeared. Her flint-like eyes darted around the room, before she made a beeline for Ben.

Maddy and Daniel were still standing, frozen, on the sidelines. Maddy’s hand was halfway covering her mouth, and Daniel had a darkly satisfied smile on his face when as he watched Jordan disappear through the doors of the club.

"He never should have been let back in here," the woman in the pantsuit said, touching Ben’s arm. "Is your hand all right, Mr. Chase?"

"Yes, thanks. I aimed for soft tissue, mostly." He managed a slightly shaken smile. "I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away."

"Please, don’t apologize," she said. Belatedly, I realized she must be the manager. "I’m sure it was justified. It’s pretty clear at this point that his actual fetish is harassing women, and he’s not even smart enough to avoid the ones who came with someone who’s got a killer left hook." She smiled at me. "Or who might have a killer left hook themselves, given the opportunity. Welcome to the Silo, miss. I’m very sorry about this incident, but please don’t let it color your opinion of the place. My name is Lucy, I’m the manager here. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask."

"Thank you." I wasn’t sure what else to say. I was still reeling from the suddenness of it, and all I wanted to do was sit down in a quiet corner and try to figure out what it all meant.

"Come on," said Ben, as if he could read my mind. "Sit down. I’ll get you a drink."

"No thanks," I said, softly. "I just need to breathe for a minute."

"Okay." He sat down nearby, but not too close. "I’m just going to stay here, unless you want me to go.

"That’s fine," I said, glancing at him. "Thank you."

"I should’ve kept him away from you," Ben said, shaking his head. "There’s no particular honor in the fact that it escalated to violence."

I smiled. "All the same, it was pretty impressive."

"Yeah?" Some of the color was coming back into his face. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. You could probably have your pick of these women tonight."

He glanced around, following my line of sight. "Any woman in the room?"

"Sure," I said. "I mean, word’s going to spread fast, even if they didn’t see it."

"Any woman?" He smiled at me, and I finally caught his meaning.

I cleared my throat. "That’s not what I meant."

"I know," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you realized what you said."

"I seldom do, until it’s too late," I admitted. "Listen, I still feel really bad about that whole…mental illness thing. I shouldn’t have said it. It was dumb. I’m just some naive girl trying to understand shit that’s beyond me."

"You’re not naive," he said. "And you already understand a lot more than most people do."

On impulse, I reached out and grasped his hand. He was a little puzzled, for a moment, then he smiled.

"Seeing as we’re a couple and all, I said, softly, scooting closer. "We should probably look like one."

"Right." He stroked my hand, absently, with his thumb. "Maybe we should put on a little bit of a show."

Guiding me to my feet, he laid his hands on my waist and turned me to face him.