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looked annoyed.
    “This is a waste of time,” he said.
    “Not to me it isn’t,” Olivia said, looking sideways at her costar. “If you’re going to have me over one of those things, I damn sure want to know how it works.”
    Adra and Ford looked at each other. Olivia might actually be pretty great, so long as she stopped looking at Ford.
    “I mean, not… have me,” the actress said, suddenly flustered.
    “We knew what you meant,” Ford said. “And you’re right.”
    Adra hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Ford since she’d remembered their night on that table. In this room. All over the club. And finally, in his bed.
    Then Olivia had talked about being had over pieces of equipment, and now Ford was looking back at Adra, too.
    She could barely breathe.
    “Then let’s get on with it,” Derrick said.
    Ford broke his gaze from Adra’s face, shaking his head, turning away slightly. He paused a moment, and then pointed up, toward the center of the room, where a suspension apparatus hung from the ceiling.
    “That might not be quite as familiar as the spanking bench,” Ford said.
    Adra thought she heard Olivia catch her breath, unaware that anyone had noticed her reactions to all of this. But that wasn’t what caught her attention. It was Derrick, staring right at her.
    “I know Adra’s familiar with it,” he said.
    It was like being slapped in the face. With something gross.
    Adra was so shocked she honestly was sort of speechless. Never mind the level of unprofessionalism that Derrick had just sunk to; it was the fact that it was clearly some sort of weird power play that got to her. Yeah, they’d done bondage and suspension play. Years ago. They’d taken a class in rope bondage, for safety, and he’d tied her up and suspended her, and, well. It had been ok. Just ok.
    But to bring it up? Now? When they hadn’t seen each other in years, when this was supposed to be a professional setting, when Adra was supposed to be an authority, when all it would do would humiliate and demean her, when—
    “Mr. Duvall,” Ford said. His voice was different. It was the voice, only deeper. Threatening.
    Ford had turned back around and was staring at Derrick, his eyes on fire, his face dark. He took two steps and put himself between Adra and Derrick, and then…he kept going.
    Derrick stepped back.
    Ford walked him back until he bumped into the wall. Adra could see Ford’s fists opening and closing, opening and closing, his huge, hulking back obscuring Derrick's face entirely. Everything was very, very quiet.
    “Every competent practitioner is somewhat familiar with suspension techniques, Mr. Duvall,” Ford said. “We run a professional club here. I recommend that you behave professionally.”
    “Holy shit,” Olivia whispered, looking sideways at Adra.
    Adra couldn’t speak.
    Then came Derrick's thin voice. “Or what?” he said.
    Ford was silent for a long, long time. Adra had never seen him like this. Only once had he been close—the night of Volare’s Bacchanal party, when some jerk had gotten drunk and practically yanked Adra’s arm out of its socket. That guy had left with a broken nose, and Adra had thought that was the most primitive, violent, and slightly frightening thing she’d ever seen from Ford.
    Until now.
    Ford was breathing deep, his shoulders heaving, his body coiled tight. He hadn’t touched Derrick. He kept his hands to his sides. And he hadn’t looked away. But there was something about the intensity of it all, about the impression of supreme control, that made you wonder what would happen if Ford decided he needed to let go.
    He’s protecting me , Adra realized. He’s protecting me from Derrick.
    The thought hit her like a hammer to the chest.
    “Or what?” Derrick said again, his voice slightly higher.
    Finally, Ford said, “Don’t find out.”
    Oh God, she needed to stop this. She knew Derrick; he was an idiot. And she hadn’t planned on Ford caring about Derrick being an