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“Hi, Hanna,” he said as he strode in.
She looked up from the files in front of her, rubbed her eyes and scowled. “You look obnoxiously happy. Good weekend?”
“The best,” he said. He grinned to himself and tackled the messages on his iPhone while they waited for the others.
Soon Mac and Peter, the other two partners, joined them.
“So when’s this rep supposed to get here?” Mac asked and checked his watch. Dr. Mac Sanderson was one of the older physician in their practice. His traditional button-down shirt and conservative tie reflected his personality perfectly. He was a good doctor though and his patients liked his confident, serious vibe.
“Any minute now,” Peter answered for the rest of them. “I checked out the price of an EKG machine online over the weekend.” He rubbed his hands together. “Couldn’t help myself.” Rick could see how jacked up Peter was about the proposed buy-in. Only a year older than him, Peter was normally the quiet one in the bunch. Peter was a worrier and always fretting about some possible catastrophe or other.
Outside, they heard Janice talking to a man with a deep, measured voice. Something he said made her laugh. As their voices drew closer Rick put his phone away and Hanna closed up her files.
A tallish, gray-haired man stepped into the room. He was meticulously groomed and Rick’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. “Harlan?” he said and felt a shiver of foreboding crawl up his back.
“Hello, Rick.”
“What…?” he stammered.
“I work as a consultant for Kingston Medical Associates,” Brenna’s former sub explained. “They vet the practices we’re considering on a medical basis, of course, but I’m their, well, let’s just say I’m their moneyman.” His smile was broad, unnaturally white and came nowhere near his cold, blue eyes.
Rick managed to regain enough of his composure to introduce his colleagues.
“Dr. West,” Harlan said and clasped Hanna’s hand in his. “I’ve heard good things about you. You do most of the pediatric work here if I’m not mistaken? The fellas at Kingston were keen to have someone with your reputation on board.” Harlan’s gaze moved around the table as Rick introduced the others. “Dr. Sanderson. Dr. Vincent,” he said.
When Harlan sat and pulled a file out of his case, the others fell silent and watched expectantly.
“Thank you for meeting me at this hour. I know your first appointments of the day are in about twenty minutes so I’ll get right to it. Kingston Medical Associates likes your practice and the patient base you’ve built, and your quality of care ranks with the best in the city. They’re excited by the possibility of buying in, and would like to invest five million dollars in your practice.” While the others gaped at him in astonishment, Harlan opened the file in front of him, handed out copies of a contract and kept one for himself.
He continued talking while they read. “Kingston Medical will invest in your practice on condition the money be used to buy equipment and increase your support staff as needed. In return, they ask for eight percent of the practice’s gross per year. We forecast that, within a decade, we’ll have recouped our initial investment.”
“Why are you asking for so little?” Hanna asked.
“We see health care as a long-term investment. In the meantime, our investment in you will be a tax deduction and we can all use more of those.” He laughed, revealing those too-perfect teeth again and the others laughed along with him. “I won’t get into too many details but the associates will want copies of all equipment invoices sent to them, and will send an auditor around once a year. They’ll make sure the facility is still up to snuff and, of course, that you’re all still here.” His voice dropped a tone or two. “What we’re really investing in is you. We’re coattail riders and you’re the kind of talented group we want to invest in.”
It was almost too good to be true. Everything Rick and his partners had envisioned was within their grasp. Still, that shiver of foreboding hadn’t gone away.
Harlan checked his watch. “I’ll leave you to discuss the offer. Please have your lawyers read over the contracts. Just to let you know though, after ten business days, the offer expires and we’ll assume you’re not interested. Sorry to rush you but there are three other practices we’re looking at in Toronto. We’d much prefer to invest in yours but until we’ve got signed contracts, that investment money is just sitting there, not working for us.” He closed up his folder and sat back in his chair. “There’s just one more thing.”
Rick’s chest got tight. That foreboding wasn’t a shiver anymore, it was a panic storm waiting to be unleashed.
“There is a morality clause. Kingston Medical Associates is the most respected group of our kind in the country. We believe in investing in the kind of work doctors like you do, but we also have a reputation to uphold.” He looked at everyone at the table, except for Rick. “Rick is a member of a sex club here in the city. It caters to practitioners of bondage and sadomasochism. The associates have decided it wouldn’t serve their image to invest in a medical group that has an open practitioner of masochism as a standing partner. This offer will be retracted unless the three of you are the only partners. I’m sorry, Rick,” he added.
His voice dripped insincerity.
Gathering up his things, Harlan said goodbye and left.
The four of them sat around the table, speechless. The others glanced at Rick then looked away quickly. Probably because the rage he was feeling was written on his face. He stood up so fast his chair toppled over. The only thing that kept him from running after Harlan and beating the snot out of him was the sound of the bell over the outer door, announcing the arrival of the day’s first patient.
Besides, what would be the point? He’d been played, masterfully and coldly. The one thing he’d been terrified of had happened. What was there to do?
He breathed in, slowly and deliberately. “Now we know,” he said, more to himself than the others. “I’ll leave you to discuss the proposal. If you accept it, I’ll resign.” He made himself smile and, oddly, felt some of the tension in his chest ease. “I’ll understand. Really. And in case you’re wondering if Harlan was just jerking me around, he wasn’t.” Rick shrugged. “I like getting my ass spanked.”
Chapter Eleven
Rick spent the next two days not doing much more than working and thinking. His colleagues were polite, of course, and didn’t pressure him for details or even ask if he would stop going to the club Harlan had referenced.
Their discretion made him want to scream.
His feelings about Brenna were, for the first time, clouded. He left his phone on voicemail so she couldn’t reach him and walked around in a stupor of pain and anger.
She wasn’t the cause of his troubles. In his heart he knew that but he couldn’t help thinking if she’d never taken him on as a sub, if he’d never gone to that damn club in the first place, he’d be tripping through his life like the happy camper he used to be.
Sitting alone in the evenings, at home in the dark, Rick looked out over the ravine and drank too much scotch. Grabbing his wallet, he pulled out the 1-800-DOM-help card. He traced the feminine, scrolling handwriting on the back. Problem was, thinking about a life without Brenna made him hurt even more, if that was possible.
In the mornings, on his postsurgical rounds at Sunnybrook Hospital, he felt as if everyone was watching him, talking behind his back when he knew it wasn’t true. As he scrubbed in for his first surgeries of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to join in the usual banter between the anesthesiologist and nurses.
Walking to his car on Thursday, long after everyone else had left, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a man stepped into his path.
“Malcolm. Shit. You scared the hell out of me.”
“What’s with you, buddy? You haven’t returned my calls. Brenna’s pulling her hair out because she can’t reach you. Did something happen between you two? If it did, she’d like to know.”
“Never mind,�
�� Rick muttered. “Hey,” he blurted out when Malcolm snatched his keys out of his hand.
“I’m driving. We’re having dinner at the David Duncan House. You’re paying.” Depressing the key fob, Malcolm unlocked the doors and slid in on the driver’s side.
“Something wrong with your car?” Rick asked dryly.
“Yeah. It’s a Buick. I’m the one with alimony payments, remember?” When Rick got in, Malcolm was touching the leather-wrapped steering wheel with a focus that bordered on sexual. “Sweet,” was all he said before he pressed the starter button, revved the engine and dropped the car in gear.
* * * * *
“He told them what?” Malcolm practically spit his soup out.
“That I’m a public pervert. They’ll pull the investment money unless I give up my partnership in the practice.” While Malcolm mopped his chin, Rick shook his head. “I can’t keep working with them. It’s just me but every minute at work I feel exposed in ways that shrivel my nuts. Some things should be private and I don’t think I’m wired to get past that.
“They’re stand-up people and I’m sure they’ll tell Harlan where he can shove his money. Problem is, they might look at me five, ten years down the road, thinking about where they might be, what kind of medicine they’d be practicing if they’d booted me out and taken the investment back when.”
“I wish I could help you, buddy. Hell, my partners would sign you up like that.” He snapped his fingers loud enough to make heads turn. “But we’re just a general clinic. We’ve never structured ourselves around the kind of comprehensive, proactive care your practice does. You could always work at Sunnybrook fulltime. They’d be nuts not to offer you a helluva contract.”
Nodding his head, Rick stabbed his fork into his tiger shrimp appetizer, feeling as if he didn’t have the energy for anything else.
* * * * *
Friday afternoon, after the last patient left the clinic, Rick called his partners into the lunchroom. Mac closed the door and exchanged looks with the other two.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” Rick started. He paced the room slowly. “I’ve got a new girlfriend. We’re into Domination and submission.” He exhaled so hard his cheeks puffed out. “I met her at a private club downtown. The same club Harlan Rhode is a member of.”
Mac grunted. “Thought it might be something like that. That attack on you was personal. Anybody else notice he addressed us all as doctor and Rick was just Rick?”
Blinking, Rick stared at his ultraconservative partner.
Hanna spoke up. “I’ve met Brenna. She’s fantastic. Hell, I’d let her spank my ass and I’m straight.”
The others chuckled, which Rick appreciated.
“I called Kingston Medical’s director,” Mac said. “Asked them if that morality cause was standard. Asked them if it was written in stone that us squeezing you out was the only way they’d invest in us.” He leaned back in his chair. “Turns out the answer to both questions was no. There’s wiggle room. You only have to stop engaging in public acts of lewdity—their words, not mine. Your skill and reputation are big motivators in their interest in us. They want you in. They also want to protect their corporate asses.”
“I’m sorry my personal life has infringed on my professional one. In my defense I can only say I didn’t bring it in here. I’ve always been totally discreet. I respect all of you to be anything but.”
The others nodded and Rick felt buoyed by their quiet support.
“Harlan used to be one of Brenna’s, um, well, they used to date. I knew he was jealous but I never expected he’d find a way into my business and dump inappropriate information on my colleagues.”
“So he likes getting his ass spanked too,” Hanna said in that serious, straightforward way of hers, “and he’s trying to intimidate you into leaving her.”
“Maybe. I’m not privy to the workings of the guy’s mind.”
They fell silent after that. Rick could practically smell the hard thinking the others were doing.
“What if we went to the bank?” Mac’s steady, modulated voice brought their attention back around to him. “If Kingston Medical Associates thinks we’re good enough to invest in, why don’t we do it ourselves? With interest rates the way they are, I know we’d get a better rate than eight percent.”
The other two started nodding as if they were mulling the idea over and liking it.
“I’m in,” Peter said. “I always expected the Kingston deal to fall through anyway. It was too good to be true. Investing in ourselves is something I wouldn’t worry about.”
* * * * *
When he pulled up to Brenna’s house later that evening and killed the ignition, Rick exhaled and dropped his head back. The sound of footsteps on gravel made him open his eyes.
Getting out of the car, he stood for a moment, gauging the set of her mouth, the anger in her eyes. He didn’t know if she’d send him right back the way he came or if she’d listen to his explanation.
“I’ve been ducking you this week,” he admitted. “That buy-in I was so excited about? Turns out they have a morality cause and wanted me out of the picture.”
Her brow furrowed and stayed that way for a moment. “How would they know?” she asked slowly.
Rick considered telling her it didn’t matter, then realized Harlan Rhode was a manipulative bastard and an acquaintance of hers. She needed to know the truth about him. He said one word. “Harlan.”
“Harlan Rhode?” she exclaimed. Her mouth fell open then shut slowly. He watched her nod a little, as if the balls were dropping into place in her head. Then she scowled, stepped up to him and grabbed the front of his polo shirt. “The next time something bad happens, don’t you dare shut me out, Rick.” She let go of him as if he disgusted her.
“Brenna, I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t,” she barked and held her hands up as if she was blocking the sound of his voice. “I’m very displeased. You will be punished for this but that’ll be all. I’ll still love you and you’ll still love me, only you’ll be rid of this guilty stink you’re carrying. Understood?”
He felt the corners of his mouth quirk up. “You love me?”
Her only answer was to cross her arms over her chest, cock an eyebrow at him and flash him a look that said he was the biggest idiot she’d come across that week.
“I love you too.”
“I know.” Her voice wasn’t as icy as he’d expected, and the look in her eyes softened.
“Yes, Mistress,” he answered and tried to sound remorseful, despite the smile threatening to take over his face. Grabbing his suitcase out of the trunk, he followed her to the house.
“And when you leave Monday morning,” she ordered, “leave your things here. You will keep clothing and other belongings here at all times.”
“Yes, Mistress.” As he followed her, he breathed in the clear air, listened to the birds and heard a raccoon screaming at them from a tree somewhere. “You know, I’d like to check out some boat dealers tomorrow. I think I’ll buy a canoe.”
* * * * *
Harlan Rhode marched into the private BDSM club he’d been a member of since his early twenties. There were no members here during the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and the expensive sound system was silent. Clutching a letter in his hand, he walked past the gleaming oak paneling his investment strategies on the club’s behalf had helped restore. He raced up the side stairs with a speed that belied his age and didn’t even bother knocking on the door marked Office.
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” he bellowed.
The club’s managing director, Jack, seated behind an impressive, wooden desk, glared at him. So did the other five people in the room. The board of directors was in attendance, plus one.
Brenna Darling.
She sat in a high-backed leather chair, crossed her legs with seductive slowness and shot him a look calculated to make a man’s nuts shrivel.
“You’re a smart guy,” Jack said. “It should
be obvious. Your membership has been revoked.”
Harlan grabbed the refund check that had accompanied the letter and tore it up. His face got progressively redder. “Unacceptable.”
“This club has always followed one basic precept. Trust. Our members, and I include those of us sitting in this room in that count, come here to practice Domination and submission and sadomasochism in private, with other like-minded practitioners. We vet potential members with the greatest of care. We indulge our fetishes out of the public eye. You’ve made a mockery of that trust by outing Dr. Finley in front of his colleagues.”
Jack stood, walked to the door and held it open. “You’ve lost my trust and the trust of every member of this club. Thanks to you we’re now facing a legal nightmare. Before you interrupted us, we were drafting a confidentiality contract we’ve now got to ask every member to sign.” He waved his hand in the direction of the open door. “You’re not a member so get out. And if you refuse, I’ll call the police and have you charged with trespassing.”
Harlan laughed. “You’re bluffing. Calling the police would be rather public, don’t you think?”
“Don’t forget who some of our members are. We’ve got two deputy police chiefs on the roster. How do you think they’d react if they found out you were a threat to them and their wives? Add to that a handful of judges and some of the big movers and shakers on Bay Street and I wouldn’t bet a wooden nickel on you not being run out of town by sundown.”
Harlan opened his mouth, shut it, then stormed out the door. “You can’t kick me out,” he yelled.
“Sure I can. Check the charter. It says anyone who acts counter to the best interests of the club and its members will have their membership rescinded immediately. You should know. You helped write the thing.” With a jerk of his thumb, Jack sent their youngest, most muscular member off in Harlan’s wake. “Make sure the door hits him in the ass on the way out.”