#2: With All Due Respect

~Lila~

“Bud?” Ryder breathes.

The name lands like a physical blow against my ribs.

I jerk away from Ryder’s grip, my heart slamming against my ribs like it wants to break free. His hand falls away, but the heat of his fingers lingers on my scalp, sending unwelcome sparks down my spine. Zane and Axel stand frozen near the door, their eyes wide as they take in the scene.

“My name is Lila,” I hiss, my voice a dangerous, low vibration. “Agent Mitchell to you. I have no idea who this ‘bud’ is.”

He moves back, but his posture doesn’t soften. Instead, that terrifying, familiar intensity returns to his gaze, fueling an arrogance that makes my chest tighten. “I know you still have that tiny, crescent-shaped birthmark on your left thigh, just two inches below your hip. I also know you bite the inside of your lip when you’re trying to look like you aren’t terrified. And you still have the exact same stubborn tilt to your chin that you had when you were tutoring me in sophomore literature and I was too busy staring at your mouth the entire time.”

Heat floods my face, equal parts fury and something far more dangerous that clenches low in my belly. I hate that my body reacts to his voice after twelve years. My nipples tighten against the thin fabric of my bra, and I cross my arms quickly to hide it.

Zane clears his throat. “We should, uh… give you two a minute.”

Axel nods, already backing toward the door. “Yeah. Thorne’s watching the feed anyway. Good luck, guys.”

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving us alone in the training dungeon. The silence feels heavier than the music that had been playing earlier. I snatch a silk robe from the nearby bench and wrap it tightly around myself, knotting the belt with sharp, angry movements.

“What the hell are you doing here, Ryder?” I demand, keeping my voice low and controlled even though I want to scream. “Last I checked, you disappeared from my life without a backward glance. Now you’re playing Dom in some high-end club while I’m trying to save my friend’s life? The universe sure does have a sick sense of humor.”

He steps closer, that commanding presence filling the room. “I’m here when I’m on leave from the Navy SEALs. The club keeps me grounded when the job tries to hollow me out. Never expected to find you on the other side of the glass, arguing with some weak-handed fed who couldn’t top a pillow.”

I laugh, but there is no humor in it. “Grounded. Right. Because vanishing on the girl who gave you everything was so destabilizing for you. Fuck you, Ryder.”

“I know you’re angry,” he warns, his eyes darkening as he closes the distance between us until he is towering over me. “And you have every right to be. But you are in my world now and you came here because you need help to save your friend. Now if you’d just let me expl–”

“I don’t need your fucking help!” I spit back, glaring up at him, refusing to give an inch of ground. “I would rather walk into that warehouse ring completely naked and blind than let a pathetic liar like you teach me a damn thing about trust or submission. You used me and then threw me away after taking everything I had to give. You think I’m going to kneel for you now? Go to hell.”

Ryder’s jaw tightens so hard the muscle leaps under his skin. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around my chin with a firm, unyielding pressure that forces my head up.

“Swear at me again, Lila, and our very first official training session will be with your body draped across my lap, receiving the spanking you clearly still need,” he says, his tone dangerously calm but dripping with a dominance that makes my knees turn to water despite the fire in my veins. “I am your instructor. If you speak to me with that tone again, I will correct it. Do you understand me?”

The threat should make me angrier. Instead, my thighs press together involuntarily. I shove the feeling down hard.

“See that’s just the thing…” I say, jerking my chin from his grip. “You’re not my instructor. And I’m not one of your club toys. Now stay the hell away from me.”

I storm toward the door, robe flapping around my legs, refusing to look back.

My hands shake as I change in the small restroom down the corridor back to my work clothes. I check my reflection, smoothing my ponytail and fixing the flush in my cheeks with sheer willpower. I am FBI. I volunteered for this. Harper is counting on me. Some ghost from my past is not going to derail everything.

I step out and nearly collide with Ryder waiting right there with his arms crossed, looking far too comfortable in his dark shirt and jeans.

“Lila. We need to talk about this.”

“Talk to someone who gives a damn,” I toss over my shoulder as I storm away.

I march down the corridor, my heels clicking with purpose, feeling his eyes on my back the entire way. I push through the double doors of the lounge and march straight up to Thorne’s frosted glass door, knocking twice before turning the handle and stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Nico Thorne is sitting behind a massive, dark mahogany desk, a glass of amber liquid sitting untouched near his elbow. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, he looks entirely relaxed, leaning back in his leather chair as he watches me enter.

“Agent Mitchell,” Thorne says smoothly, gesturing to the chair across from him. “I imagined I’d be seeing you shortly. Have a seat.”

I walk straight up to the desk, planting my palms flat on the wood and leaning forward. “I need a new trainer. Immediately. I cannot work with Kane. It is a massive conflict of interest, and it compromises the security of this entire operation.”

Thorne raises an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile touching the corner of his lips. “A conflict of interest? Or a personal vendetta? I am well aware of who he is to you, Agent Mitchell. The cameras in the training rooms have excellent audio feeds, and frankly, Ryder’s history with a girl named Bud is practically legend among the senior staff here. He hasn’t touched a woman in five years because of you.”

The information hits me like a splash of cold water, but I refuse to let it derail my focus.

I straighten up, pulling my shoulders back. “Whatever his personal psychological defects are, they are not my concern. The fact remains that I do not trust him. Trust is the fundamental foundation of a D/s dynamic, isn’t it? That’s what your files say. If I cannot trust the man holding the leash, the training is useless. I will not be able to simulate submission because my survival instincts will be screaming at me to fight him.”

Thorne studies me for a long moment, his expression calm but unyielding. “I have been watching your evaluation footage all week. I’ve watched you interact with Agent Reed. You are a highly capable field operative, but you are topping from the bottom in every–”

“I'm not topping from the bottom.” I cut in, shaking my head.

At that, he raises a brow and lets the silence linger for a moment.

Then he continues. “You are. And if you were mine, I’d paddle you for that lie and for interrupting me. In fact, your stubbornness is one reason Agent Reed isn’t progressing. He’s placating you instead of getting his act together. Second, Ryder is the best at training subs who need, shall we say… an attitude adjustment. He’s patient, logical, and unyielding. You, Agent Mitchell, need a firm hand. He’ll give it to you, make no mistake.”

My jaw tightens. “With all due respect, my personal history with him makes this impossible. I need someone I can trust to prepare me for the mission. Harper’s life depends on this working.”

“And your friend will die if you walk into that ring unprepared,” Thorne counters smoothly. “And so will you. The contract gives me discretion over training methods and I think Ryder is the best man for the job.”

I grip the back of the chair in front of his desk. “Forcing me to submit to the man who broke my heart at eighteen is not preparation. It is cruelty.”

Thorne’s smile is small and knowing. “You have a natural submissive streak, Lila. You fight it because it scares you. Ryder will not let you hide. He will force you to face it, and that is precisely what you need to sell the cover in a world where one wrong glance gets you auctioned off to monsters.”

I swallow hard, hating how accurate his words feel. My mind races for another angle, something logical and unemotional. “There must be other experienced Doms here. Anyone else.”

“None with his success rate on defiant cases,” Thorne replies.

I lean forward, my voice dropping with urgency. “I have the right to refuse a specific contractor under our agency agreement.”

Thorne raises an eyebrow.

“You do,” he says calmly. “But I have a right to refuse to train you. Your agency can send over another undercover agent if you’re not up to the task. Would you like me to place a call to Director Ruiz?”

That’s a low blow. I refuse to give up on Harper, and Thorne knows it. I fight to hold down an angry flush.

“No.”

He raises a dark brow.

He wants a “Sir” out of me, damn him. But giving it would prove to him that I understand protocol and can embrace it. And if I want another Dom, I need to play his game.

“No, Sir,” I murmur. “But–”

“That was slow and insincere. Your manners need work, Agent Mitchell. Ryder may make you uncomfortable, but I believe he will be effective. I’ve watched you with Axel this week. I saw from the observation room when you first realized that Ryder had come for you. Your reaction was …very enlightening.” He prowls around to the edge of his desk again. “For the first time since you stepped into this club, you snapped to attention and listened. I’ll bet he made you wet. There’s a reason a sweet sub like you denies her nature, and Ryder will get to the bottom of that. Besides, if you truly are unable to trust him ever again, this will be good training for your mission. You’ll never trust an international slave dealer who wants you to kneel at his feet so he can sell you to the highest bidder. Pretending obedience will do you good.”

I stand there, completely trapped, the walls of the office closing in on me. My mind is racing, trying to find a loophole, a workaround, some way to survive the upcoming weeks without losing my mind or my identity to the man who shattered me.

“Please,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it, my defenses crumbling just enough to show the raw desperation underneath. “Anyone else, Thorne. Axel, Zane, yourself… anyone but him.”

Thorne looks at me for a long moment, a flicker of genuine sympathy passing through his eyes, but his expression remains entirely immovable.

“Unless you have a legitimate professional objection that doesn’t involve your high-school prom memories, my decision stands. Besides, you always have your safe word. Should you truly need to use it, we’ll discuss your options then.” He rises from the desk and opens his door. “Good-bye.”

I rise to my feet stiffly, gritting my teeth.

The bastard thinks he has this all figured out. Fine. If he isn’t going to believe me, there is no sense wasting more time arguing. Giving one hundred percent to her mission and rescuing Harper is the priority. Besides, Thorne has all but told me the way out of this nonsense.

Now all I need is an opportunity.

Whirling to face the club’s owner, I open my mouth… and close it when I see we are no longer alone. Ryder is leaning against the doorjamb, staring at me with a dissecting blue gaze that promises punishment. Against my will, my womb clenches.

“C’mon, Bud,” Ryder says, his voice low and commanding, echoing through the quiet office. “Apparently, I need to start with that spanking, after all. Let’s go.”