Page 11 of Suite 7

I don’t know who you are right now. But this isn’t something I can be part of.

And then, three weeks later, the thing I’ve never said out loud to anyone: I didn’t marry someone like that, Kane. I didn’t marry someone who needed me to be afraid of him.

She was wrong. It took eight months and six sessions I almost didn’t return to before I could hold that without flinching. But I remember the way it settles into you, quiet and corrosive, until you can’t tell anymore where the shame ends and you begin.

“You can show her what you learned,” Dominic says. “That this doesn’t diminish her.”

“I know.” I meet his eyes. “Logistics.”

“Saturday. Nine PM. Suite 7.”

Suite 7. My preferred room.

“I’ll be at Eclipse at seven. Two hours to prepare the room.”

“Reserved for you all evening.” He makes a note. “For her first session she’s chosen a blindfold and guided entry. She’ll know your experience level and approach. Nothing identifying.”

“What will you tell her?”

“The truth. Experienced Dominant. Prioritizes safety and aftercare.”

I stand. “I won’t let her down.”

“I know.”

Saturday, seven-thirty PM.

* * *

I stand at the mirror and take stock. Dark jeans. Fitted black shirt. Watch. Hair still slightly damp from the shower. I check for tells the way I always do before a scene — any sign of what’s running beneath the surface — and find none.

Good.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

Sloane: Coffee at my place at eight? Haven’t seen you in forever.

Me: Raincheck. Tomorrow.

Sloane: Okay. Love you.

Eclipse at eight fifty-five.

* * *

Suite 7 is exactly as I arranged it — amber light, the room’s quiet, everything in its place. I stand at the center of it and breathe, roll my shoulders, let the dominance settle. Dominance is not something I put on. It’s something I step into, the way I always have. But it took years to stop apologizing for.

At eight fifty-eight there are measured, hesitant footsteps in the corridor.

Then the soft sound of the handle turning.

“Just a few more steps,” Anya says calm and practiced. “There’s nothing in your path.”

The woman she guides inside is blindfolded.

I don’t move.

“Your partner is in the room.” Anya catches my eye briefly, a small professional nod, then turns her attention back to the woman. “Take your time. Remember your safewords. And enjoy your evening.”