Love Me, Master Me (The Dungeon Fantasy Club Book 6) Read online

  Delilah held out her hand in greeting. "It's very nice to meet you, Zoey. Congratulations, you've got a great one here."

  "I know it." Zoey politely returned the handshake. "Are you hungry? Mrs. Stewart will be serving lunch here in a bit."

  "Lunch would be nice, thank you. Would you want to head to the conservatory while we wait? That way I can run through a few pieces and you can make your selection."

  "I would love that. I think I know which one I'd like but…"

  "It's much better to hear it in the venue," Delilah said, understanding her point.

  "Declan, do you want to join us? I know you have some meetings this week."

  "I'd love to but you're right, I have meetings in place that I must see to so we can enjoy our honeymoon."

  A look passed between the pair and Delilah felt a pang at the intensity of their bond. Being in their presence, she couldn't help but wish them well. It was a rare and beautiful thing to witness such love and devotion.

  "Dee, I will leave you in Zoey's capable hands, and we'll catch up at dinner tonight."

  "Sounds like a plan." She smiled at him, keeping up the pretense that everything in her world was sunshine and daisies.

  Declan kissed Zoey on the temple and then departed the library.

  "Let's go to the conservatory. Declan mentioned you've been to the manor before. How long has it been since you visited?" Zoey asked.

  They left the library and headed toward the elevator.

  "Yes. A few years ago, but it's been a while since I've had the time to visit with my tour schedule. This is a great home. One of my favorite places in Europe, to be sure," Delilah said, not elaborating as they entered the lift and rode it down to the first floor. She knew her way around the place but let Zoey lead her down the hall. The last time she'd visited had been about five years ago. Before Ethan had maneuvered himself into her orbit. It had been the time she and Jared had done a scene together in the DFC and given partnering a whirl. Fun times, but that was all they'd been.

  "I love it here. Just to warn you that you are about to enter the lion's den of chaos. My wedding planners are here, getting both the conservatory and ballroom arranged."

  "I'm used to pandemonium so it won't bother me at all. Believe me, there's nothing like a director in a panic minutes before curtain call on Don Quixote," Delilah said wistfully.

  "I can't imagine what that must be like."

  They entered the conservatory, where an army of workers were in a flurry of activity, transforming the space into one filled with wedding finery. It reminded her a bit of the 'oldie but goodie' Christmas in Connecticut, and that scene when they were preparing for the show with an army of men behind them. There were men in dickies up on ladders, hanging yards of ivory and twinkling lights, and other men erecting and placing columns and trees in a strategic display. The stage was in the midst of a transformation. The pounding thuds of hammers at work, combined with drills, made Delilah unexpectedly homesick. It reminded her of the week leading up to the opening of a show, with stage hands building sets, last minute run performance run-throughs, and quite a bit of hair pulling, until somehow, as if by magic, opening night would arrive and the place would transform into another universe for a time.

  It was one of the reasons she'd always loved what she did.

  In the center of the controlled melee stood a brunette woman conducting the men with all the strength and skill of a maestro. Delilah trailed a few steps behind Zoey as they approached her.

  "Hey, Zoey."

  "Kara, I'd like you to meet Delilah Gregory. She's going to be performing during the ceremony. Delilah, this is Kara Lowe, owner of Bridal Dreams and keeper of my sanity right now."

  "Hi, Delilah. It's so nice to meet you."

  She shook Kara's hand. "You, as well."

  "What can I do for you both?" Kara asked, keeping an eye on the workers.

  "If it wouldn't intrude too much, Delilah was going to run through a couple numbers so I could make my final selection on the music for the ceremony. We thought it would be a good idea to actually hear them in the space where she'd perform them."

  "Not at all. The guys are due up for a break anyway." Kara turned with all the command of a general on the battlefield and whistled loudly, getting the workers' attention. "Take a break, we'll reconvene in thirty."

  "The musicians will be over here to the right of the stage." Kara pointed her arm toward the right of the stage with a small flourish. With a grace borne of experience, she led Delilah to the front of the room.

  "Watch your step." Kara pointed out the minefield of tools and supplies strewn about as they maneuvered toward the stage area. "I know it might not look like it now, but this will be the where the musicians are located. Will this be all right for you? Can I get you anything?" Kara asked with a generous smile.

  "Absolutely, it should be just fine, and I don't need anything, but thanks for asking."

  "Then I will leave you to it." Kara retraced her steps until she met Zoey in the center of the room. One of the workmen, with a wealth of inky black hair pulled into a ponytail at his neck, joined them. At the way Kara leaned into his muscled form briefly, proclaiming the inherent bond, Delilah knew they were a couple. It seemed to her that everyone around her was part of a twosome. Whereas she seemed to be the last single girl standing, and not for lack of trying.

  Shaking off her malaise, Delilah set her purse on the floor a few steps away, and then took up her stance. Singing and music, for Delilah, was the one place she could escape reality—or it had been until recently. It was her heart, the better parts of her soul and, for her, was where her internal peace resided. She hoped she could eventually retrieve the parts of it she'd allowed Ethan to tarnish.

  She rolled her shoulders, working out a few of the kinks from her travels, expanded her chest, filling her diaphragm up with oxygen, and slid into her rendition of Ave Maria. As the notes and her voice permeated the space, workers who hadn't laid down their tools stopped mid stroke. Everyone's eyes shifted to her as her voice rose with the cadence, trilling over a high note. She blocked out their stares. She always did, turning inward until there was nothing but the melody inside her veins. The room and its inhabitants dimmed as her voice soared.

  This was the one space where everything made sense to her, where Delilah felt at home. She didn't get stage fright; not really, she'd always just focused on the way the music made her feel and where it took her when she was on stage.

  After Delilah's voice hit the final note, ending the song, the room was deadly silent. There were tears in Zoey's eyes as the workers began to clap and hoot their appreciation.

  "Not to interrupt, but where would you like the band to set up?" A deep bass male voice reminding her of molasses boomed over the applause.

  There was an audible gasp. And was that a 'squee' from the bride-to-be as she turned toward that male voice? Delilah's gaze shot to the rude interloper, only to spy mega-watt rock star Bastian Dean of the band The Harbingers, with his hands shoved in his ripped jean pockets, replete with a bad boy half smirk and devil may care confident vibe rolling off his hot rod body. He had managed with a few choice words to remove the focus off her and redirect it toward himself.

  Her hands clenched. Either that or she'd do the man bodily harm. It wasn't that she craved the spotlight, but dammit, Ethan had done the same thing, using her voice to pretend he was the star of the show. It had been a way to erode her personal power and confidence in herself.

  "I can't believe you are really here!" Zoey said with an audible girlish sigh, her voice filled with a tone of reverence.

  "In the flesh, love. Where would you like the real band to set up? No offense, just never been one for music that's as old as dirt." He directed the last of his words to Delilah as he sauntered into the room toward Zoey, his long strides eating up the distance between them.

  Delilah straightened her spine and headed toward the group. She'd graced the stage with icons that spanned multiple generations
, withstood arrogant directors and fellow cast members, and even a manager and ex-boyfriend who acted like he owned her, so she would not bow before this arrogant jerk.

  "That's all right; most pop stars don't understand what it means to make music with staying power," she said.

  At her intentional dig, Bastian briefly scowled in her direction before he brought Zoey's hand up and kissed the back of it; all gentlemanly like. She didn't buy it for a second. Delilah knew his type all too well. The music superstar playboys, who were offended if a person didn't bow down before them.

  Apparently sensing the impending fireworks between Delilah and Bastian, Zoey interrupted. "Delilah, it was gorgeous. I think the Ave Maria is the one we should go with. Now, Mister Dean…"

  "Please call me Bastian."

  "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to the ballroom, where I believe the stage is already finished, and you can begin your preparations there. Jared, why don't you show Delilah to her room? Delilah, I will meet you back in the library for some lunch in thirty minutes."

  "Take your time."

  Zoey escorted Bastian Dean from the conservatory as Kara and company resumed their activity around her. Delilah tried to keep her face blank, to not show how irked she was over Bastian Dean's comments. If she wasn't so raw, normally it wouldn't faze her, but Mullardoch was supposed to be a safe haven for her.

  Jared wrapped his arm around her as they left the room, pulling her out of her funk.

  "You were lovely as ever, lass. Don't worry much over Bastian. He can be a royal ass but he means well."

  "I won't." But that was a lie. She would worry over it. And as for Bastian's ass—she'd like nothing more than to give his well-formed posterior a swift kick.

  Chapter Two

  After a rather tense lunch, at which Zoey profusely apologized for the interruption in the conservatory, Delilah opted to sequester herself in her room. Guests were starting to trickle into the manor for the celebration, and she didn't have the energy required to smile and preen like she was on display. There'd be enough time for that later in the week. By midday tomorrow, the decorations would all be in place in the conservatory, leaving her the room to rehearse. The orchestra ensemble would be in sometime in the morning, which left them more than enough time to rehearse with the musical accompaniment. She knew Ave Maria backwards and forwards, could sing it in just about any key, accompanied—or, as she'd done today, acoustically.

  She hated that it likely appeared as though she was hiding out in her room when she ordered room service for dinner but there was nothing else for it. She'd deflected Declan when he'd called, and explained she wanted to rest a bit before heading to the club tonight. In truth, the last thing she wanted to do was run into Bastian Dean again before she felt mentally prepared. He of the smoldering good looks, with his midnight hair artfully arranged to appear disheveled, and an arrogance that, with a simple smirk from his assessing gaze, made her want to do him bodily harm. Delilah was not prone to violent outbursts but the man dredged up all her fury and made her want to lash out. Safer to have dinner alone than to shock her hosts by strangling the man.

  Oh, she knew that her style of music was not for everyone. She was fine with that, truly, she wasn't a huge fan of techno, so she got it. Opera was unique in the emotions it evoked. Most people either loved or hated it; she understood that aspect of her music. Except it galled the hell out of her when one performer dissed another publicly, like Bastian had done with her today. Dratted man.

  Instead of staying in her room all night fuming, Delilah headed to the Dungeon Fantasy Club below decks. It had been a while since she'd been to the main club, or any BDSM club for that manner. Ethan had used her appearance, her heftier size, as an excuse, saying it made him uncomfortable for others to see her like she was, and if only she'd lose twenty pounds then he wouldn't be embarrassed. Instead of standing up for herself, and embracing the brave façade of living life to the fullest the way she showed on stage, Delilah had caved, conceding parts of her soul to Ethan for him to trample on. He had been her Dom, after all, and only had her best interests at heart—or so he professed.

  Delilah hadn't realized how deep the wounds he'd inflicted upon her, every time he used her appearance as an excuse not to have sex or go out in public with her, had gone until she'd broken it off with him last month. He'd controlled everything she did, what she ate, where she went, when she worked out, when she performed, who she was seen with in public, and so on. It wasn't until she walked in on him fucking the newest La Perla underwear model, in their bed, using Delilah's own handcuffs, that she'd seen him for what he was; a scum-sucking bottom feeder she'd blindly handed control of her life over to.

  Delilah had broken things off with him immediately and fired him as her manager. Ethan had threatened to go public with their relationship, adding that he was going to sue her for breach of contract for firing him. Let him try, she'd counter sue the hell out of him. It wasn't like she needed the money. Her bank accounts were well stocked, and Ethan had never had access to those. Thankfully, she'd had the good sense not to give him access to her bank account numbers. She'd transferred everything to new accounts the day she kicked him out. Just to be sure. Maybe she'd had some sixth sense guiding her actions with regards to her money. He'd certainly pushed for the control there, attempting to tell her that as he was her Dom, she should grant the power of the decision over to him. Not a day had passed since that fateful day a month previously that she wasn't grateful she'd had the foresight not to indulge him and grant that access. She'd never been one to harbor and carry hatred toward anyone, but she loathed Ethan as much as she thought she had once loved him.

  Delilah's stress trickled away as she waltzed into the club. It was only nine, still early yet by club standards, but packed. This was what she needed, a night to be herself, maybe find a Dom to do a scene with, and relax. Away from the snapping cameras of the paparazzi and dazzling stage lights. Away from the confines and restrictions of her former relationship. Because, if she was honest, sex with Ethan had been subpar. She'd believed him when he told her it was her size that made it hard for him to perform. Echoes of his words had lingered as she dressed for tonight, which was why she'd chosen a knee-length leather dress in slimming black, with matching black knee-high boots. It did show her more than ample cleavage, but when it came to BDSM club wear, it was tame by any standards. And she did have the requisite leather cuffs at her wrists that proclaimed to all and sundry that she was a sub and a free agent.

  Delilah prayed that Jared and Declan would be too busy with the extra wedding guests to chide her over her appearance. She knew she should be wearing less and baring more flesh, but she couldn't right now. Ethan had done that, made her feel ashamed of her body. Granted, it had always been there. From the time Delilah was a little girl, she'd always been the bigger girl. She still had pictures from when she was in gymnastics in fourth grade. All the other girls were these twigs, while she had been solid. Not fat, not even chunky yet, but just more solid than they were. Her parents had put her on diets as a teen. She even remembered an instance where her father had said in a room full of extended family members that she had to watch what she ate or she'd get fatter.

  Delilah tried like hell to conform and make her body into something that was acceptable to them, that would make her worth loving in their eyes. Nothing ever worked. It didn't matter how healthy she ate or how many personal trainers she worked with, her body didn't want to be smaller—unless she went and had surgery to remove excess skin, which was something she didn't believe in.

  As much as she had put on the face of loving who she was unconditionally, Ethan's words over time had put a chink in that belief, until she could no longer look at herself in the mirror without hearing his ugly words. That was why she needed the time off from the stage. To remember who she was at her core, away from the tabloids that called her the 'plus-sized diva.'

  The day after she caught him with the model, Delilah had put her apartment, which sh
e'd paid for and shared with Ethan, on the market. Then she had moved into a hotel until her understudy could take over her part. She'd spent Christmas alone in a Paris hotel with a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey. Pretty pathetic, but it wasn't the first time she'd spent a holiday alone in a hotel room. Although she was mollified somewhat that she didn't have to spend it with her well-meaning family who, while they always tried to make her feel better, never seemed to understand how much it hurt when they told her that perhaps she could get him back if she lost a few pounds. Like it was her fault Ethan cheated, or that because she was a larger girl, it made his cheating okay, instead of the fact that he was actually a cheat and a liar.

  Delilah steeled herself, doing what she could to appear like she was enjoying the holiday festivities when really it just made her want to cry as she approached the bar and took a seat.

  Jared, as always, had a big smile for her from behind the bar. "What'll ya have, Dee?"

  "Grey Goose and cranberry."

  "Coming right up."

  "Thanks, Master J. How's life been treating you at the manor?"

  Jared shot her a contemplative look as he mixed and set her drink on the bar. "Different."

  "I'll bet. When are you going to find yourself a sub to settle down with?"

  "Lass, you know I'm not relationship material," he said. She didn't miss the wistful expression on his face that he shot toward the soon-to-be Mrs. Declan McDougal before it vanished and he covered his blunder. "But if you'd like a scene tonight, all you have to do is ask."

  He winked without any real heat behind it.

  "I don't know. The last scene I did with you, it took me three days to recover, and I need to be able to stand at the wedding."

  He flashed a devilish grin, and his accompanying dark chuckle was pure Dom pride as he moved on to the next patron. Delilah sipped her beverage, enjoying the fruity smooth flavor of her vodka cranberry. Music from Enya pumped through hidden wall speakers and Delilah felt her shoulders relax. She was home. In her mix of like-minded people; no masks, no pretenses, and no lies. She scanned the crowd at the bar and beyond. So far all she'd come across were couples who were either already engaged in a scene or were preparing for one. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, she could see the wedding planner at the stocks, with the brawny beefcake workman and a gorgeous, blond gentleman whom Delilah had yet to meet, in the middle of a scorcher of a threesome.