“I didn’t know she was with him at first,” I reply.

“‘At first?’”

“He was being a jerk, getting up in my face even after I apologized. We got into a fight, and yeah, I slept with her the next day. Didn’t plan to, but she invited me up to her place.”

I could have kept things simple by lying, but for some reason I didn’t feel like lying to Bridget. Maybe because she’d sniff out the truth. I don’t know.

“No wonder he doesn’t like you!”

I look at her in disbelief. “You’re taking his side?”

“If you think about it…wait, what kind of fight did you get in?”

“I broke his nose.”

Her eyes widen. “Well, that just adds to it!”

“The guy’s a grade-A asshole.”

“I don’t disagree, but breaking his nose?”

I growl and look away. “It’s a guy thing.”

“Did you try diplomacy first?”

“No, I did not try any fucking diplomacy. We were in a dive bar, not the United Nations. I was drunk, he was drunk. If it makes you happy, I learned my lesson. I don’t get drunk like that anymore. At least not in public bars in foreign countries.”

Bridget is quiet, and I regret my tone of voice, but I’m still upset that Joseph spoke with her. Grabbing the panties I took off her earlier, I flip her onto her stomach and tie her wrists behind her with the underwear.

“What else did he say to you?” I ask.

“That was pretty much it.”

I lie on top of her, tug at her earlobe with my teeth, and slip my had between her thighs. “I think there was more.”

“He said he knew you didn’t like him. Oh! That feels good…”

“What else?”

“Um, he asked if you were serious about me, and…said I was bitchy.”

I stop fondling her clit. “What?!”

“I didn’t like his questions and told him I wanted to get back to my work.”

I wish I could have been there to witness exactly how their exchange went. I don’t like that Mok called Bridget bitchy, but I’m glad she was antagonistic toward him.

“That it?” I press, caressing her clit again.

“Yes, I swear.”

Satisfied she’s telling the truth, I pull her down past the edge of the bed so that her feet touch the floor and her ass rounds the end of the bed nicely.

“Don’t move,” I tell her.

I didn’t bring any toys for impact play, so I look around to see what there is. I go into the bathroom and return with her hairbrush, which is made of bamboo and has a rectangular head, practically a paddle.

“How many?”

“How many what?” she asks.

“Spanks. For disobeying me when I told you to stay away from Joseph Mok.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You want me to pick the number?”

She eyes the brush I hold. “You spanking me with that?”

I slap the flat side of the brush into my other hand. “If you pick a number that’s too low, I’ll add twenty to it.”