Round of thanks for Mel, April, Steph, Luna and Cris. Because they keep up with me, and my confused muse.

Edward

Shit. Fucking Christ.

I need another drink, but one of the floor waitresses is currently under the supervision of Mistress fucking Havoc.

I sigh and step away from the blonde, whose sickly-sweet perfume is so potent it's making me nauseated.

She looks up at me before she bats her lashes, casting her eyes down to my boots. Fuck. Here it comes.

"Go," I tell her. Her brows furrow before her green eyes zero in on mine.

"But… Sir? I thought…" she starts. I groan and bite the inside of my cheek in an attempt to keep it together.

"Stop thinking. It's not worth it. You're fun—sure, but not my type, sorry." I hold up my hands in surrender, step backward until she huffs and turns around, defeated.

I sit back on one of the spacious love seats opposite from Havoc and her entourage, one foot balancing on the opposite knee. From my comfortable seat, I have a first-class, front-row view for the little, pathetic show Mistress Havoc is putting on. Fuck, did she really think the demonstration of her power over a club waitress is going to scare me off? I huff, her act having the complete opposite—stimulating—effect on me and on my cock.

Shifting in my seat, my grip on the glass of whiskey is so tight my knuckles turn white. I don't drink; I don't even want to fucking blink. All I can do is watch from afar and admit that yeah, she's a fucking professional. She's a fucking goddess. She should teach classes—the way her back is perfectly straight; her eyes on nothing and nobody else but the sub at her high-heeled feet.

The way she's affecting Gianna, without even touching her, has me salivating. The look in her deep, dark brown eyes and her little mischievous smirk—fucking perfect. Havoc reminds me of everything I love about being a Dominant, makes me crave it. Right the fuck now.

I track down another waiter who takes my order. I don't even need a new drink, but I've been holding mine for so long it's turned lukewarm. The guy's thin, with mousy brown hair and a bright smile. His hair is curly, a shaggy cut that's styled.

"What's your name?" I ask. He smiles warmly, eyes gentle when he says his name's Peter.

"Pardon me, sir, but I don't think I've seen you here before."

I smirk at his averted eyes, the way his shoulders slump. The boy's got good manners, I'll give him that. "No, I'm new to the city," I tell him. "Edward Masen." There's no part of me who feels the need to follow protocol since I have no desire whatsoever to play with this guy. Besides, the collar around his neck, tucked in between the tips of his shirt collar, tells me he's already spoken for. And you don't just take something that isn't yours. The big padlock connecting both sides of the thick, gunmetal linked chain around his neck shines in the club lighting.

"Dominant?" Peter asks. He hugs the round, velvet tray in his hands against his body, his red, leather suspenders digging into his narrow shoulders.

"Yeah, I am."

"Figured as much." Peter winks. I chuckle. "You remind me of Daddy."

"And who's your Daddy, Peter?"

"Garrett Smythe, but he's not here tonight. He's actually away for work—business trip."

I nod. "And what makes you think of him when you see me?"

"Just the whole natural Dom demeanor, the obvious addiction to leather jackets too—maybe, probably." He laughs.

I look down at my vintage Saint Laurent and shrug.

"Peter," I start, sipping my glass and eyeing Havoc, who's circling her prey. "Mistress Havoc, what's her deal?"

Peter looks over his shoulder and back at me, pierced eyebrow raised in surprise.

"You know, does she do scenes with other Doms? What's she like?"

"Well, I don't know her personally, but Daddy's a friend of hers. They've never played together, though. She's very discreet about her private life, and it's been a while since she brought someone with her—a sub. But she's a very well-known Dominatrix; her dungeon with Lady Viper is booming," Peter explains.

"Hmm, okay. So she's going for mysterious, then." I chuckle.

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Masen, why do you want to know? Are you a switch?" This boy likes to gossip, for sure. I can tell from the little twinkle in his eyes. He almost flinches when I arch my brows and huff.

"Sweet boy, me? No." I laugh. "I'm as top as they come." Peter's cheeks flush a little before I send him off, leaning back and thinking of a plan.

Peter is on to something… That's for sure. I'm no switch, but Havoc doesn't need to know that just yet.