Sir

There’s no explanation for it.

I love my day job, really. But there’s something about my evening activities that just ignites everything in my soul. It’s as though everything in my life—all the crap, all the shit—fades away the moment I step foot in that building at 10:00 p.m. The only things left are excitement, adrenaline, and anticipation.

And I am completely in control.

But as I said, I also love my day job. Especially the person I work directly for.

As the secretary for Mr. Reid, I’m exposed to a lot of the business, but I also know there’s a lot that I don’t know—a lot that I’m not high enough in the hierarchy to be privy to. To everyone else, I’m simply the secretary to the CEO of Reid Global. This multi-million-dollar conglomerate has a hand in a lot of sectors: energy, science, politics, and sales. I am pretty sure if I named any well-known business, Reid Global would have someone on its board. It’s a very common name in the business world, and Mr. Reid is a highly prominent individual.

Having spent a year working for him, I feel like I’ve come to know him somewhat, and I definitely know his reputation. It paints him as a stoic businessman with no serious attachments. Some think he’s too young for the job at only thirty-one, but nobody can deny that he gets results where they’re needed.

Personally, I know that he’s kind. At least, he is to me. He is not arrogant, but he knows his capabilities. He cares for the people in his business, in the offices, although I know that he keeps his circle of trust small. I am not sure if I am in that circle yet, but I don’t mind. I also have my fair share of trust issues.

I walk into his office without even knocking, a habit that quickly formed after my first few weeks. David and I—or Dave, as I call him when it’s just the two of us—connected quickly and easily, and here I am, a year later, having never regretted a second of it.

He’s on the phone, as he usually is, but I set about my usual duties. I replace the cold cup of coffee on the table with a fresh one that he will likely still forget about, tidy up the files on his desk as he paces the room, yelling to whoever is on the other end of the line, and set his schedule for tomorrow beside his computer. I glance up at him as I finish, reminding myself of the other reason I enjoy this job so much.

Mr. Reid is hot.

His suit jacket has been discarded on one of the chairs, leaving him in just his shirt, waistcoat, dress trousers, and smart shoes. He is the epitome of what a CEO should look like, but his dark hair makes his sharp blue eyes stand out from across the room. I secretly love the fact that he always seems to buy shirts a size too small, making his muscles stretch the fabric slightly.

He catches me looking up at him and smiles, then rolls his eyes and holds up a finger, telling me to wait, signaling that he is already mentally done with whatever conversation he is having.

I stand patiently behind his desk, my arms cradling the old files he no longer needs, one hand clutching the two-hour-old coffee mug, waiting for him to hang up finally.

“I am not telling you again, Owen. You were supposed to get this done two days ago. If the signed deal is not in my hands by one o’clock tomorrow, consider it your last day,” David snaps into the phone before finally hanging up. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I told you weeks ago not to let Owen handle this, Dave,” I say.

He opens his eyes, chuckles, and heads over to me.

“I know you did, but I can’t let the heads of the departments know that I take strategy advice from my secretary. They’ll think I’m going soft,” he replies as he picks up the fresh coffee and takes a sip.

“Well, your lowly secretary is on the office floor more than you, so maybe you should listen to her in the future,” I reply, walking around the desk and passing him. “I’ll even let you take the credit.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he responds, putting his coffee down, then turning to lean back against his desk as he watches me walk toward the door. “All finished for the day?”

“I am, yes,” I say, stopping in my tracks. “I’ve left the Vance file out for you, though. You need to—”

“Ugh, I know,” he groans, rubbing his face with his hands.

“He wants a meeting next week.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“I’ve told him that for two months,” I laugh, walking back over to him. “He just wants your initial proposal, so put aside your distaste for him and deal with it,” I order as I come to stand in front of him.

He licks his bottom lip as he looks down at me with a raised eyebrow.

With any other boss, I’d be terrified of talking to them this way. Dave and I, though? This is normal for us—just friendly banter. The eyebrow and the lip-licking thing are also just habits of his, ones that I never want him to stop.

“I’ve done a draft for you already,” I add, making his face drop.

“You have?” he asks, reaching around to pick up the file and scan through it.

I laugh as I start heading back to the door. “Of course I have, because you were never going to.”

“This is shit, Nora!” he frowns, pointing at the pages.

“Oh, I know. I made it shit so that you’d be motivated to correct it,” I explain with a grin.

He rolls his eyes.

“Sneaky. You up to much this evening?” he asks, even though his attention is already back on the crap proposal, and he is already picking up his pen to edit it. This means he doesn’t notice my body tense slightly.

“Not really. Same old. You?” I ask politely.

“Pretty sure it’ll be some more of this,” he says with a slight sigh as he sits down in his chair and dumps the file onto his desk. He looks up at me with a small smile on his lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” I echo, and then I leave.

Four hours later, I’m walking into the other building that I spend the second half of my life in. I breathe in the familiar scent, observe the familiar faces, and enjoy the familiar feeling of excitement starting to spread through me. There is just nothing like it.

At my day job, I’m playing the role of Nora Ellis, secretary to Mr. Reid. Seen but not heard. No one would think to look twice at it.

Here, though? Here, I go by a different name, embrace a different part of my personality, and I certainly am not overlooked—even with the iconic purple and black lace mask that everyone has come to know so well.

It is a simple mask, covering the area around my eyes, with lace falling delicately over my cheeks, and ribbon tied at the back, adorned with droplets of black gems along the edges. It stands out against the red wig I also wear—another trademark that everyone has come to recognize me by.

I nod to the guards at the staff door, letting them open it for me before walking through. I head straight to greet and hug the others who work here before we all start filing out into the main room. I quickly take note of the regulars and the newbies, check each girl’s assigned area for the night, and give a nod to the bartender, who instantly starts mixing my drink.

I don’t own the place, but others regard me as the third in command. Selena, the real redhead, is the boss. She owns the venue. Second in charge is Nico. He stays behind the bar, acting like a regular bartender, but if anything happens, he’s there in a split second and can throw out anyone, even if they’re twice his size.

After that is me, unofficially, I have simply been here long enough that everyone assumes I’m part of management, and my close relationships with Sel and Nico only strengthen that assumption. Either way, I think of this place as my second home. I’ve lost count of the times that Sel, Nico, and I have ended up sleeping over once the doors are closed, bunking in her office when I was in between apartments, knowing that if I ever need anything, this place is here.

I take a deep breath, smiling to myself as I lean against the bar, preparing myself for a fun-filled night of debauchery.

I really love working in a BDSM club.