Inside the Lines: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel by Ally Bishop

before the words tumble out. “Well, it was rumor up until today. But I got the official word from Divine, Inc. earlier today—they own Paddled as well as a couple of sex clubs in L.A. and Chicago,” I explain as my stomach jumps at the idea of saying my news out loud, “they want to invest in Kinked.”
    “Congratulations!” Ella jumps out of her chair to hug me. “This is so awesome! I told you it would rock.”
    Ian embraces me as well. “Very happy for you, Lux.”
    Once again seated, Ella digs out her phone. “My best friend, entrepreneur, and business owner of the hottest new international dating site…smile for the camera, Ms. Trace.”
    I make a fish face, and she snaps the photo.
    “This calls for champagne.” Ian signals the waiter, and within minutes, we’re toasting.
    “To your hard work and success,” Noah says, and we all join in with “salute” and clink glasses.
    As I sip the sharp, fruity champagne, two emotions race though my veins: giddy excitement and jittery fear. But for once, the excitement is stronger.
    Ella meets my gaze across the table, her smile of pride a boon to my nerves. “You’re going to rock this, lady.”
    I nod and hold my glass out to hers again. “Agreed.”

    The downside to getting investors? Shit gets real.
    For the next two days, I spend day and night with Noah, fine-tuning my business plan in order to submit a final version to Divine, Inc.’s accounting and marketing departments, as well as to the CEO. I advertise on freelance and free posting sites for coding and website experts, graphic designers, and internet dating consultants.
    “How are you going to pay for this?” Noah asks as I receive responses to my ads and price quotes.
    “Since I don’t yet have any paperwork from Divine, with my savings. Do you mind if I don’t pay the rent for the next six months?” I tease.
    He grins. “I can take out your rent in other ways.”
    “Hm.” I look at him appraisingly. “I can totally whip your ass and have you begging for release in five minutes flat.”
    With a laugh, he nods. “You’d definitely have me begging—for you to stop.” He shivers. “I’m definitely not into pain.”
    “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Storm.”
    He looks mildly afraid, but then he sobers. “Lux, if you need to skip a few month’s rent, that’s fine. Seriously. I can pay for everything on my own.”
    I shake my head. “No. I’ll figure it out. But thanks.”
    The cost estimates are broad, ranging from ouch to yowie, and I’m not even sure I know what to look for, but I parse out the information, using my knowledge of spreadsheets gleaned from a few years as an account manager before my Dominatrix days.
    By the end of the next week, I’ve interviewed and selected a handful of designers and coders to work on the website, and I’ve got meetings scheduled for the next three months with Divine, Inc.’s marketing team. I make an appointment with Divine’s project manager for Kinked to sign the final paperwork. I should be elated. And I am…mostly. But there’s still a part of me that cautions: you’ve never done anything like this. You could be a total failure. Who do you think you are, to take on a project this large, interfere with the love lives of people, and then expect to make a living?
    I try to ignore it, to push away the negative thoughts, but I’d be lying if I said I was confident. I want this. I do. But what if I fail?

    Fin asks me out for, of all things, bowling. I’ve long since clipped my nails short, as any amount of computer work puts a stop to my sexy, long nails. It doesn’t matter, though—I’m a horrible bowler. Fin refuses to believe me until after our first game where I can count more gutter balls than points.
    “Ye’re terrible,” he finally agrees in disbelief.
    I sit back in the molded chair, grinning. “Told you. Worst. Bowler. Evah.” I own the title quite happily.
    “Do ye want me to help ye a bit?” He’s so baffled by