A BAD GIRL FOR MY DADDY

SOPHIA Saturday nights were sacred. While the rest of Seattle's elite attended charity galas and wine tastings, I was lacing up leather boots and checking my makeup in the dim light of my car. My gallery closed at five on Saturdays for a reason. Not because I was meeting clients or attending auctions like my assistant believed, but because I needed time to transform. By day, I was Sophia Chen, owner of Luminous Arts Gallery in Pike Place Market. Tasteful. Sophisticated. The daughter who made something of herself despite her father's tech empire fortune. By night, in the underground clubs south of the city, I was just Sia. A submissive looking for someone who could actually handle me. My father, William Chen, thought I spent Saturday nights with my college friends. He had been lonely since Mom died three years ago, and I was all he had left. My brother Marcus would have taken over the family business, would have been the son Dad needed. But the same car accident that took Mom took Marcus too, and now it was just Dad and me, navigating a world that felt too big and too empty. That was why I went to the club. Not to fill the emptiness. Nothing could do that. But to feel something other than grief and obligation. To surrender control for just a few hours. I pulled into the parking lot of Sanctuary, the premier b**m club in the Pacific Northwest. It was housed in a renovated warehouse, all exposed brick and industrial chic on the outside, pure decadence within. The bouncer, Marcus, nodded as I approached. I had never told him about my brother, never explained why his name made my chest tight. "Evening, Sia. Good crowd tonight." "Thanks, Marcus." I showed my membership card. Black with silver embossing, the mark of a vetted, trusted member. Inside, the familiar scent of leather and expensive cologne wrapped around me. I checked my coat, revealing the deep emerald corset and black leather skirt I was wearing. My long black hair was pin straight down my back, and I had done my makeup darker than I would ever wear to the gallery. Dramatic smoky eyes, deep red lips. I headed to the check in desk where Mistress Vivienne, one of the dungeon monitors, gave me my bracelet. White for submissive and available. The committed submissives wore red. Dominants wore black. "Haven't seen you in two weeks," Vivienne said with a knowing smile. "Busy with the gallery?" "Something like that." I had actually been in Tokyo with Dad for a tech conference. Three days of translating, networking, and smiling until my face hurt. "Well, there's some new blood tonight. A Dom from New York. Tall, silver fox type. Came highly recommended from Velvet Chains in Manhattan." My interest piqued. "Experienced?" "Very. And he's already booked the Obsidian Room for the night." The Obsidian Room. The most exclusive private dungeon in Sanctuary, complete with every piece of equipment imaginable and soundproofing that cost more than my car. Only the wealthiest members could afford it, and even then, it had to be booked months in advance. "Must be quite the player," I murmured. "Or quite rich," Vivienne laughed. "Go on, have fun. Be safe." I made my way into the main hall, accepting a glass of sparkling water from the bar. I never drank when I was here. I wanted every sensation crystal clear, every moment of surrender fully experienced. The music was low and sensual, something with a deep bass that vibrated through the floor. I scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. There was Master James with his regular submissive, Sarah. Mistress Kira was demonstrating rope work on the suspension frame in the corner, a small crowd gathered to watch. Everything here was about consent, communication, and community. It was the one place where I felt completely safe to be vulnerable. And then I saw him. He was standing near the far bar, and "silver fox" didn't do him justice. He was probably in his early fifties, with steel gray hair swept back from a face that was all sharp angles and barely contained intensity. Tall. Easily six foot three. Broad shoulders in a black button down shirt that was rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He wore the black bracelet of a Dominant, and even from across the room, I could feel the authority radiating off him. Our eyes met, and the world narrowed to just that connection. His eyes were a striking pale gray, almost silver, and they pinned me in place like I was a butterfly in a collection. My breath caught. My pulse hammered. He didn't smile. Didn't nod. Just held my gaze with an intensity that made my knees weak. Then someone stepped between us. Master David, one of my occasional play partners. The spell broke. "Sia! I was hoping you'd be here tonight." David was nice, competent, but there was no spark. There never had been. "Hi, David." I tried to look past him, but the silver haired man had turned back to his conversation with one of the club owners. "I have the suspension room booked for eleven. Interested?" I should say yes. David was safe, predictable. But tonight, something in me rebelled against predictable. "I'm not sure yet. Can I let you know?" He looked disappointed but nodded. "Of course. You know where to find me." As he walked away, I felt a presence behind me. The air changed, charged with something electric. "You're Sia." It wasn't a question. His voice was deep, with a slight rasp that went straight through me.