if Andre got in his face. Last thing he needed to do was take a swing at a cop. Foster hit the on button to start the coffee then turned around to face his uninvited house guest.
“I’m a dom. But I’m sure you already figured that out. And no, going after vanilla girls isn’t a hobby of mine. Last night wasn’t planned. And what happened should, frankly, be none of your goddamned concern.”
Andre put his hands on the breakfast bar, palms flat, and leaned forward. “Maybe not, but I’m asking you, man-to-man, to stay away from Marcela. She’s leaving soon and doesn’t need any complications in her life. She’s worked hard and has a nice life waiting for her back home. I know how guys like you—like us—can affect a woman who’s innocent to our world. It can be overwhelming and exciting, can make them question what they want. Don’t do that to Cela. Have a fling with someone else.”
Being told what to do by anyone raised Foster’s hackles, but he couldn’t deny the truth in Andre’s words. Even if Cela had wanted something more than last night, which she obviously didn’t, it’d be irresponsible for him to open up that submission, expose it, with only a few weeks together. Discovering that side of yourself brought up a lot of shit, even for a dominant. Coming to terms with those feelings and urges often took time and a support system, someone to guide a person through the pitfalls.
The idea teased at him like the scent of forbidden fruit. He’d love to be the one to lead Cela through that, uncover the layers of submission if last night hadn’t been a fluke and that need was truly there. He gripped the counter behind him, trying to get a hold on his quickly derailing thoughts. “You have nothing to worry about. Cela is a great girl, but I’m looking for a long-term sub. I steer clear of vanilla girls. Usually. Like I said, last night wasn’t planned.”
Andre straightened and nodded. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”
Foster smirked. “So I guess Cela doesn’t know anything about your … proclivities.”
For a brief moment, the hardened-cop act flickered, and Andre’s shoulders dipped as if heavy hands were pushing down on them. “No, she doesn’t know any of it. She wouldn’t understand. My family wouldn’t understand. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything to her.”
The coffee pot beeped, but Foster kept his attention on Andre. Foster knew what it was like to have to hide part of yourself. And from what he knew of Andre’s situation, the guy was having to hide a helluva lot. “I wouldn’t, but Cela may be more understanding than you think.”
Frown lines etched his face. “See you around, Foster.”
And with that, he was out the door.
The second Medina to walk away from him in a day.
“You okay, boss?”
“Hmm …” Foster turned away from the computer screen.
Lindy, his assistant, nodded toward his computer. “You’re on the same newspaper article you were on when I stopped in here half an hour ago.”
“Oh, right.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Guess I’m having trouble focusing today.”
“Rough weekend?” she asked, setting the takeout lunch he’d ordered on the corner of his desk.
“You could say that.” Rough. Amazing. Frustrating.
Lindy lifted a file folder in her other hand and waggled it in the air. “This should cheer you up. They found that little girl in Ohio last night. Scared to death and hungry but totally unharmed. She’d wandered off and gotten lost in the woods outside of her neighborhood. The Home Safe bracelet led them right to her.”
“Thank God.” A wash of relief went through him. No matter how many times he got that kind of news, each successful outcome was a triumph to be celebrated. And he had to hang on to those because he knew how many similar stories didn’t wrap up with that kind of happy ending. “That absolutely does cheer me up.”
“The father called in a few minutes ago. He wanted to know what he could do to thank you or help get the word out about our products. He’s already mentioned us in their local newspaper.”
Foster took the file from Lindy and opened it. The big smile of five-year-old Madison Dore greeted him. He touched the photo, the memory of another little girl always hovering at the edge of his mind. One who hadn’t been found. He closed the file quickly. “Tell him there’s no need to thank us. But if he really wants to help, he can make a donation of bracelets to a local school or he can do a testimonial for the website.”
“Awesome. I’ll tell him. And I’ll add her picture to the board. That’s fifteen this year. And the tenth for the bracelets alone.” She did a little fist pump. “Go team!”
He laughed. His assistant’s enthusiasm was one of the main reasons he’d hired her. There were often dark days at 4N. The situations they made products for weren’t happy ones. So the office needed all the positivity it could get. “Been hitting the coffee hard today?”
Lindy gave a sheepish smile. “Diet Mountain Dew, but yeah, probably need to lay off a bit.”
“Go eat something, absorb some of that caffeine.” He grabbed the bag of takeout. “I’ve got an article to read.”
“The key is to read left … to … right,” she said, talking slowly like he didn’t understand English.
He tossed a ball of paper at her. “Out, minion.”
Lindy shut his office door, and he pulled out the roast beef sandwich she’d brought in. But right as he was about to take his first bite, his cell phone rang with a familiar thrashing drumbeat. He sighed and pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Hey.”
“Whoa, you actually picked up,” Pike said, the sound of car noise in the background. “I tried to catch you before you left this morning, then tried to call.”
“I had a lot waiting for me here, had to leave a little early and then got caught up in something.” He took a bite of his sandwich, not wanting to have this conversation.
“Uh-huh. You’re pissed at me. I get it.”
“Hmm?” he asked, the noise muffled by his half-full mouth.
“Don’t be a dick. You’ve been avoiding me since Saturday,” Pike said, no ire in his voice. “Look, man, if you didn’t want me to touch her again, you should’ve said something. I would’ve backed off. You just had to say the word.”
Foster set his sandwich down, the bite he’d taken turning to sawdust in his mouth. “That wasn’t my place. I don’t have any say over her. You touched her, she didn’t tell you no. That’s that.”
“Right. So if I go home today and head over to her place for a little afternoon delight, you’re totally cool with that.”
His fist clenched around his soda, nearly busting the disposable cup. “Do it and I’ll fucking castrate you.”
Pike’s loud laugh echoed from the speaker. “Man, I love it when I’m right.”
Foster grunted. “That’s because it’s so rare, it’s worthy of celebration.”
“Touché. So have you called her?”
“I checked in with her yesterday just to make sure she was okay.”
He sniffed. “Checked on her? What the fuck? Because sex with you is so earth-shattering she needed a follow-up?”
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