His Forbidden Submissive by Brandi Evans Page A

get your orders to the bar as soon as you’re seated.” Brin motioned for them to follow her. “Right this way.”
    As Brock fell into step behind his employee, he turned his complete attention to Viv. Her gaze seemed to be taking everything in, so he took the opportunity to do the same, to attempt to see the space as she might.
    When he’d designed his getaway, he’d blended “old” style with “new”. Sure leathers, chains and rod-iron bars dominated the bulk of the décor, but the space wasn’t dark or drab. Creams blended with deep reds and blacks to give the place a light appeal with a trim of edginess.
    He’d rounded out the look with ornate chandeliers and rock walls, giving the restaurant a dungeon-esque aspect, but his favorite feature of the restaurant, however, was the tables—although tables might be a stretch of the term.
    Large, cushioned platforms hung suspended from the ceiling by four thick chains and were secured to the floor with a hidden base. Couldn’t have drinks tipping whenever people got up to use the facilities. Circular rod-iron “tabletops” sat in the center of each platform—they weren’t large, but they were big enough to hold Ravenous’ trademark shared, no-silverware-required meals.
    “So what do you think?” he asked as she slid onto her seat.
    “I think it’s quite breathtaking. I love the colors, and these tables are phenomenal. It makes me feel risqué while also feeling safe.”
    “Good. That’s pretty much exactly what I was going for.”
    She went completely still. “What you were going for?”
    Oh shit, he’d just royally fucked up. He’d brought her here to judge her reaction, not to confess anything. Yet. But talking to her came so naturally, he’d just opened his damn mouth without thinking. He could lie, tell her he’d helped the owner build the club, which was the partial truth. But then what would happen later when he told her the truth?
    Fuck, fuck, fuck.
    He couldn’t lie to her. Whether he’d meant to or not, he’d crossed the line. Going back now only to go forward later would be far worse than simply telling her the truth.
    Wouldn’t it?
    As he joined her on the platform, he carefully prepared his next sentence. “Yes. I designed Ravenous. I’m also a co-owner.”
    “Co-own?” She seemed to be speaking as if she were in shock. Her words had no inflection, her facial muscles paralyzed. “How long have you owned this place? Were you thinking about opening it while I was sick? You never mentioned anything to me.”
    “Yes and no. The restaurant’s been in the making for years now but we’ve only been open about a month. I actually met my business partner while you were going through chemo. He’d been planning to open a place like this for years and had most everything lined up when we met but finding an architect and designer familiar with the BDSM lifestyle was hanging him up. So when he approached me, I jumped at the chance to design the place.”
    “The BDSM lifestyle? Oh god.” Her pupils turned to big, black saucers. In the span of two seconds, she went from shock to something closely resembling panic. “Oh my god. You mean…you’re actually into that ? The place isn’t just for show?”
    Christ. He was losing her. And fast. “I’m an active participant in the lifestyle, yes. I have been since my early twenties. Does that bother you?”
    He examined her expression for any sign of rejection or worse—fear. But before she answered, their server arrived.
    “Good evening, Master Brock,” the blond in a black leather vest and matching pants said as he placed their drinks between them. “Do you know what you’d like to order or do you need more—”
    “More time,” Brock said quickly. Much, much more time.
    The young man seemed to know where he was and wasn’t wanted and departed post haste.
    Viv took her coffee between two suddenly shaky hands, brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. Then a larger one, then a