“Jesus Christ.” Deanne glared at Anne. “Who the hell do you think you are? This is between me and my brother. You—you just want to get your claws into his money and—”
“I don’t need Ben’s money, but it is my job to shield him.” She heard his startled grunt. After his time in the Shadowlands, had he missed learning that Mistresses as well as Masters protected their slaves? “How old are you, anyway?”
“She’s thirty-one.” Camille turned angry eyes on her sister. “Mimi said you told your manager to fuck off because he instructed you to work with middle-class customers as well as the rich ones. God, Dee. Mimi stuck her neck out to get you that job. Now, she’s in trouble with her boss for recommending you.”
Deanna slumped. Her expression indicated she blamed everyone except herself.
To Anne’s relief, Ben slid his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he whispered into her ear. Then he looked around her at his sister. “It hurts to think I’ve helped you turn into a fuck-up, Dee-dee, but I guess I have. Camille and I already know that if we lose our jobs, we don’t eat. Or we end up homeless. So we behave accordingly. Time for you to learn the nasty facts of life, sis.”
“But, Ben.” Sheena scooted her chair near enough to lay her hand on Ben’s forearm. “She’s your sister. She loves you because you have a big heart.” And then the woman actually leaned against him and stroked him.
Fury crackled across Anne’s nerves. So much for being tolerant. She didn’t share her slaves. She certainly didn’t share Ben. Never.
Anne picked up an unopened chopstick packet, slapped it on her palm to check the sting factor—very nice—then sharply smacked the back of Sheena’s trespassing hand.
Sheena jerked her hand away. “Hey!”
Anne gave her the stare that kept men on their knees and silent.
Sheena’s face paled, but she still…stupidly…tried to speak. “Listen, you—”
“Maybe your wimpy friends put up with you touching and hanging on their men, but I don’t. Hands off.” She twisted to put her hand on Ben’s stomach in her own claiming gesture. Why be subtle? “Mine.”
Across the table, she heard muffled laughter from Leon and Camille. But Deanna was scowling. Way to make friends, Anne.
“Ben, she hit me.” Sheena looked up at him with wide eyes. “Are you going to let her do that?”
Ben laughed. “Gotta say, I find it really hot when a woman says, ‘Mine.’ What do you think, Leon?”
Leon smiled at his wife. “My Camille destroys poachers verbally. But that physical stuff? Whoa, that’s hot. I’m gonna buy you some chopsticks, bebe.”
“Sheena should be glad you didn’t have a whip at hand,” Ben murmured to Anne.
As his gaze held hers, heat sizzled through her blood stream. And just south of her fingertips, his jeans bulged. The man really had enjoyed seeing her go all Domme on Sheena’s ass.
After that interlude, both Sheena and Deanna concentrated on their food, while the rest of them talked.
“It seems that all of you have moved out of the city. Didn’t you like growing up in the Bronx?” Anne asked Camille.
“The South Bronx isn’t the best neighborhood. But after our father died, Mom couldn’t make enough to support all four of us. She tried—God, she really tried.” Camille exchanged a sorrowful look with Ben.
The way his shoulders tensed, as if he blamed himself, hurt Anne’s heart.
When she took his hand, his big fingers closed tightly around hers. “Considering the children she raised, I’d say your mom did a fine job, even if money was tight.”
Camille gave her a grateful look. “She did, against all odds. Ben, especially, had a rough time since he was under pressure to join a gang. He was working part time, going to school, and trying to protect Deanna and me. And we were so broke, he…”
Camille stopped suddenly and gave her brother a repentant look.
Anne frowned. Something had happened. She’d have to ask Ben later.
Being Ben, he let it all spill out. “We were short on money, and I got talked into a scheme to rob a liquor store. But…Mom’s morals held up. I couldn’t do it and backed out two days before. Pissed off the guys involved, and they jumped me after school. I got messed up pretty good.” He gave her a half-grin and rubbed his nose.
The nose that had been broken.
He hadn’t been an adult—had been in high school. She wondered how many other broken bones he’d suffered.
He continued, “In the hospital, a cop took my report and then came back the next day just to talk. To help me figure out a better path. So I enlisted and skipped the last of my senior year. With my pay, Mom and the girls moved into a safer neighborhood.”