Chapter Four—Macey

When Reece left this morning, saying he had business to attend to, I wasn’t expecting him home just a couple of hours later. So when he arrives and finds me dancing around his apartment in a pair of yoga pants and an old T-shirt, I let out a squeal of surprise.

He holds up both hands, a grin tugging up his sexy mouth. “Sorry to startle you.”

“No, it’s… okay.” I pull my earbuds from my ears, aware I’m talking entirely too loudly.

His gaze slowly moves down my body, sliding over my curves before coming to a rest on my face. “Keep yourself busy, did you?”

“Something like that.”

He surveys the apartment, taking in my handiwork. His apartment is gorgeous with its tall ceilings and modern furniture. But it had all the distinct makings of a bachelor pad, so I busied myself with correcting that today in my free time.

His brow furrows and his mouth eases down from a smile into more of a grimace. Shit. I hadn’t given two thoughts about tidying up and organizing. Nana and I were supposed to spend the morning looking at apartments, but I fell in love with the first place we saw, put a deposit down, and was back early. And a bored Macey with nothing to do is a dangerous thing.

Reece’s apartment was clean but it was lacking in organization, so I straightened his bookshelves, cleaned out old leftovers from his fridge, and organized all of his Economist magazines by order of date, leaving them stacked neatly near his armchair. Then I tackled the closets, de-cluttering and taming the mess that’s accumulated from him living as a bachelor for so many years.

I hadn’t realized that he’d be mad, but the look on his face says that he is. I’ve invaded his personal space. He’s invited you to sleep in the guest room, not flounce around like you own the damn place.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt.

After surveying the living spaces, he heads toward his bedroom with me quick on his heels. I’m worried he’s going to explode when he sees what I’ve done in there.

He stops and stands in the doorway. I’ve moved his writing desk under the window, and switched the tall bookcase to a narrow wall between the doors to his closet and bathroom. It just fits better on that wall. More feng shui.

After a brief and silent pause, Reece heads into the large walk-in closet and looks over the rows of clothes.

“Did you face all my hangers the same way?”

“Yes, and I organized your shirts by color family. See?” I point to the white shirts that lead to the gray, light blue, then navy, and finally black shirts at the back.

“Why?” He turns to face me, his expression quizzical.

“I’m sorry, I… I was just trying to be helpful. We can put everything back if you like. Well, except for those Thai leftovers in the fridge. Those are long gone.” Down the garbage disposal, along with the scent of aged curry. Gross.

He nods thoughtfully, his face a stern mask. “I don’t even remember the last time I had Thai food.” His fingertips skim over the rows of hanging shirts.

“Oh, and I picked you up a bath mat, because you didn’t have one.”

He turns to face me, his expression impassive. “Did you find an apartment today?”

“Yes. Not far from here, actually. It’s in Lincoln Park. They have a third-floor unit open now, so I put a deposit down and can move in a couple of days. I need a bed, a couch, and dishes, pretty much everything. It sucks starting over.”

I don’t want to think about the fact that the dirtbag Tony got all of my hard-earned things in the breakup, simply because I couldn’t afford to ship it all across the country. And while furnishing a new apartment will cost me almost as much, I can do it at my own pace, and my stuff won’t be tainted by sour memories.

Reece exits the closet, and I follow him back out to the living room. “I’ll help you move whenever you’re ready.” He thumbs through his stack of magazines and cocks an eyebrow at me.

Embarrassed, I glance away. They’re now organized by issue date. I seriously feel like an idiot for going through all of his stuff. My intention wasn’t to snoop, just to keep myself busy. I’ll need to look for a job sooner than I realized.

I can only dodge Cameron’s questions for so long about which friend I’ve been staying with. I’ve been vague up until this point, knowing he won’t take the news well that I’ve been sleeping just down the hall from Reece. He’s always been the consummate older brother, concerned and overprotective, even more so after our parents passed.

When I sit down on the couch, Reece settles across from me in his leather armchair. “I talked to Hale about your request.”

A flash of nerves hits my belly. I can only imagine how that conversation went. I’d have literally died of embarrassment if I’d been present for that conversation. “What did he say?”

He licks his lips and a crooked smile forms on his mouth. “If it weren’t for him being madly in love with Brielle, I’m fairly certain I’d have ended up in the hospital.”

I chew on my lip. My brother? In love? I’ll need more information on that soon. “That bad?”

“No, actually. He agreed that you and I could work together on exploring BDSM.” His gaze skitters away from mine, and he’s entirely too calm. Not to mention, it doesn’t sound like something Cam would agree to. Like ever.

He’s leaving something out.

“That’s it? He was fine with it?” My voice reveals my disbelief.

“The only caveat is there will be no sex.”

I glare at him as if he’s grown three heads. That’s the point. The entire fucking point. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” There’s no way in fuck I’m agreeing to that, but I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot before we even begin. “Cam’s an idiot,” I say instead, waiting to feel him out.

Reece shrugs. “He’s your older brother. It’s to be expected.”

“So… how do we do this?” Do I drop my pants here, or are we venturing down into the club?

“It’ll be three lessons. I think you’ll be satisfied with that.”

My heart hammers wildly in my chest at the knowledge we’re actually going to do this. Three lessons. With Reece Jackson, the Dominant. “When do we start?”

“Tonight. I have work to do today, but we’ll have dinner and discuss your goals and limits. Do you like Cuban food?”

I level him with my stare. “I lived in Miami for two years. Of course I do.”

“Perfect. There’s a good restaurant we can meet at tonight just down the street. The food is excellent, and the lighting is low. It’s quiet enough to talk, but loud enough to not be overheard.”

“Okay,” I agree.

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I always exchange numbers with submissives I’m working with.”

He says it so dismissively, as if I’m nothing more than one of his playthings, as if we don’t have a deep and complicated history. I hand my phone over reluctantly, probably some leftover reaction from Tony’s constant distrust and questions. He used to read my texts, even though I was nothing but faithful to him.

Glancing at me curiously, Reece adds, “And I’m going to text you the address of the restaurant.”

“All right. Sounds good. I’ll see you there.”

“Seven o’clock. Don’t be late, Macey.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” I can’t help the sass in my voice. One way or another, I will get my way.