His lips quirked into a half smile. “You’re in the business of fulfilling fantasies. Very admirable. Your clients speak highly of you.”

“How the hell would you know what my clients have to say?” she asked sharply.

“The internet is a wonderful tool. Amazing what will turn up in a Google search.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she muttered. “I’m not in the habit of searching for myself using Google.”

“So what can I do for you?” he prompted. “Perhaps a donation for the clients you waive charges for?”

Her cheeks tightened in mortification. “No! I don’t ask for donations. This isn’t about money. I wouldn’t—”

Damon held up a hand to interrupt her. “I’m sorry. I had no desire to offend you. Let’s start over. Why don’t you tell me what you wanted to discuss?”

Serena squared her shoulders and bolstered her flagging courage. “I have a client whose fantasy is a bit different from my usual requests.”

He remained silent as he waited for her to continue.

“Most of my clients want an experience, something they’ve dreamed about but feel they’ll never accomplish on their own. I think perhaps in this case, it’s more a lack of knowledge rather than an inability to achieve satisfaction.”

Damon nodded. “Makes sense.”

She drew in a breath. “Her fantasy is to be owned by a man.”

He didn’t outwardly react at all. He merely sat there, watching her, waiting for more.

“I’m unclear as to the precise name for it, but perhaps a sex slave would most suit,” she added in a low tone after a quick glance around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “This presents me with a rather unique problem,” she continued. “Obviously this isn’t something I can set up for her or pay for. I’m not looking for a legal quagmire nor do I fancy spending time in jail for solicitation of prostitution. Faith told me about your . . . The House, and suggested you might be able to help in finding someone suitable for this woman’s . . . fantasy.”

Damon rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I see.”

If she’d expected him to be shocked or amused even, she wasn’t prepared for him to take her so seriously.

“Tell me more,” he said as leaned forward in his chair. “You say fantasy. I assume this isn’t a permanent situation she’s seeking.”

“Um, no. Maybe a period of a month. She wants it to be long enough to experience it fully and all the nuances, but it’s purely a fantasy.”

“And Faith thought I would be helpful,” he said with an amused smile.

“Not you personally,” she said hastily. “She mentioned The House and thought you would know someone suitable who wouldn’t mind a temporary arrangement.”

“And what would this man receive in exchange for his . . . service?”

“Well, that’s the hard part,” Serena said.

They were interrupted when the waiter returned with their food. Serena broke off and waited until he’d settled their plates and left before she resumed. She picked up her napkin and laid it across her lap as she glanced back up at Damon.

“I can’t pay him for sex, obviously. I’d draw up a contract outlining the non-sexual aspects of the arrangement. Anything beyond that would purely be left up to the parties involved.”

“But sex would be expected,” Damon said.

“Well, yes, unofficially, of course,” she said hastily.

She tasted the grilled fish and sighed her contentment as the flavor burst in her mouth.

“You’re right. The food’s excellent.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

They ate in silence for a few moments before she peeked back up at him to find him watching her.

“So what do you think?” she asked hesitantly.

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” he said simply. “I could probably find a number of candidates for you to review. I do extensive background checks on all the members of The House but I would, of course, scrutinize a short list of men even further before providing you a list. With their permission, obviously.”

She nodded. “I would want to do my own background check in addition to the information you provide.”

“Of course. I would also ask that you provide me the name of your client so that I can do an appropriate security check on her as well.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“If I’m to allow her access to my facilities and ask that one of my members participate in this elaborate fantasy, I have to be assured she is suitable. I understand if she is uncomfortable revealing her identity, but I would require it if I’m to offer my services.”

This was so not going the way she’d envisioned. No, it wasn’t as though she’d be able to keep it a secret forever, but there certainly wasn’t a need to reveal her identity if no suitable candidate could be found.

Buck up and quit being such a wimp.

Clearly she needed a new motivational speech because as inspiration went, that one wasn’t terribly effective.

“I’ll . . . talk with my client and e-mail you the information this afternoon,” she hedged.

“An outline of precisely what she’s wanting would be helpful as well. I’d need her to be as specific as possible so that disappointment isn’t met on either side.”

Serena nodded. “I agree.”

She looked up and locked gazes with Damon. He really was handsome. He looked arrogant but not obnoxiously so. Assured. Confident. Comfortable in his skin.

Subtle power surrounded him like an aura, and she briefly allowed herself to fall into the fantasy of what it would be like to belong to him. Owned.

Just the word sent a shiver straight down her spine. Her groin tightened, and her clit tingled and pulsed until she had to shift in her seat to alleviate the pressure.

His fingers tapped absently at his wineglass, and she watched in fascination as one slid gently over the surface. He had beautiful hands. Long, lean fingers. How would they feel on her skin?

“Is the food not to your liking?”

She blinked and shook her head before staring down at her half-eaten entrée.

“No,” she said hastily. “It’s excellent. Sorry, was just collecting my thoughts.”

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, only breaking it occasionally for idle chitchat. When she was finished with the last bite, she checked her watch and grimaced.

“Lunch was lovely, but I really do have to go.”

Damon rose and nodded toward one of the waiters. “I’ll have the car brought around at once. Can I walk you out?”

She stood as he offered his arm, and she smiled at his gallantry.

“Your mother must be proud,” she said as they walked toward the door.

“Well, she is, but why do you say so?” he asked in an amused tone.

“You have impeccable manners.”

He laughed. “My mother would have no compunction about tracking me down and beating me if I ever forgot my manners, especially around a lady. She is a southern belle from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.”

When they reached the entrance, the maitre d’ opened the door, and Serena saw the Bentley parked a few feet away. Damon walked her to the door and opened it before handing her into the backseat. He leaned in, his hand holding the top of the door.

“It was a pleasure, Serena. I look forward to hearing from you.”

She smiled as he withdrew and offered a small wave as the car started in motion. He stood watching her for a long moment before tucking his hands in his pockets and returning to the restaurant.

Nervous little bubbles popped in her belly, and she wilted against the seat like a deflated balloon.

It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t so bad.

She’d survived, and he’d made it surprisingly easy to talk to him. As they drove back toward her office, a thought occurred to her. Damon owned The House, an establishment that catered to sexual fantasies, which begged the question: What was his?

Instead of returning to his downtown office, Damon drove into North Houston, where the private estate he’d turned into The House was situated. He’d given Serena his e-mail address, and he found himself curious as to the details of her client’s request.