Finding Him Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by L.M. Somerton

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Read more from L.M. Somerton

  Get your copy now

  More exciting books!

  About the Author

  Pride Publishing books by L.M. Somerton

  Single Books

  Mountain Rescue

  Black Dog

  The Portrait

  Stroke Rate

  Chemical Bonds

  Testing Lysander

  Owned by the Sea

  The Wyverns

  Mantrap

  Deathtrap

  Rattrap

  Sand Trap

  Steel Trap

  Tales from The Edge

  Reaching the Edge

  Living on the Edge

  Dancing on the Edge

  A Double-Edged Sword

  Rough Around the Edges

  Scorched Edges

  Driven to the Edge

  Binding the Edges

  Edging Closer

  Investigating Love

  Rasputin’s Kiss

  Evil’s Embrace

  Tarot’s Love

  Warlocks

  Elemental Love

  Elemental Hope

  Elemental Faith

  The Retreat

  Serving Him

  Trusting Him

  Fairground Attractions

  Ghost Train

  Merry-Go-Round

  Helter Skelter

  Treasure Trove Antiques

  The Lucky Cat

  The Gilded Mirror

  Anthologies

  Racing Hearts: Keeping the Luck

  His Rules: Tagging Mackenzie

  Hard Evidence: Secret’s Hold

  The Retreat

  FINDING HIM

  L.M. SOMERTON

  Finding Him

  ISBN # 978-1-83943-178-4

  ©Copyright L.M. Somerton 2022

  Cover Art by Fiona Jayde ©Copyright March 2022

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2022 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  Book three in The Retreat series

  Sometimes, using a safe word gets you exactly what you want.

  Canadian Zac Denman is young, rich and submissive. He’s also a kidnap risk who’s grown up in the shadow of bodyguards and security precautions. All he wants is to work out what kind of submissive he is in a safe environment and thanks to his very understanding father, he’s getting the chance to do exactly that. The Retreat in England is safe, discreet and willing to provide a selection of Doms for Zac to play with—a great way of discovering what he is, and isn’t, into.

  Dale Gastrell is a friend of The Retreat’s owner, a member of The Underground BDSM club and a soldier turned landscape gardener thanks to an inconvenient bullet. Two weeks providing covert protection to a wealthy client who won’t even know he’s there seems like a perfect break from city life.

  But life is never simple, and when Dale and Zac are thrown together, Dale has to fight his attraction. Zac is from a whole different world of wealth and privilege. He’s not for the likes of Dale who has to watch as Doms arrive at The Retreat to give Zac a taste of submission.

  Dedication

  To finding the one.

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Ryanair: Ryanair DAC

  Calvin Klein: Calvin Klein Inc.

  Mini: Bayerische Motoren Werke AG

  Ghostbusters: Columbia Pictures

  Vans: VF Corporation

  Michelin: Compagnie Générale des Établissements Michelin SCA

  Netflix: Netflix Inc.

  Disney Channel: The Walt Disney Company

  Amazon Prime: Amazon.com, Inc.

  Grindr: San Vicente Acquisition LLC

  Harlequins RFC: Harlequins Football Club

  Porsche: Porsche AG

  James Bond: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures

  The Italian Job: Oakhurst Productions

  Chapter One

  Carey Hoffman stepped out of the air-conditioned limousine into the burning heat of a Palm Springs summer’s day. The air shimmered, and he half-expected to see a mirage in the distance along with a camel train and a bunch of wandering nomads. The sun’s intensity made the greenery around him all the more astounding. Extensive, manicured lawns stretched to either side of the sweeping drive and in front of him stood the biggest, most palatial house he’d ever seen. He could only imagine how much watering all that lush grass would need.

  “It’s enormous.” Pure white, the sun reflecting off the building’s curved walls was blinding. Carey slipped on his sunglasses to reduce the combined glare of the sun and the paintwork. He couldn’t decide whether he liked the property or not. There was no doubt that it was extravagant and no question it was unique. “Probably designed by some celebrity architect for an extortionate fee,” Carey muttered. “It must be worth a small fortune.”

  “I kind of like the smooth lines, it’s all curves, no harsh edges.” Alistair, Carey’s partner and submissive, joined him, slipping his hand into Carey’s. “It doesn’t come across as ostentatious as the McMansions you see in California. It’s understated, restrained somehow.”

  “That’s your artistic eye at work, love. There’s way too much white for my liking. What’s wrong with a bit of color? Or at the very least a shade of white that isn’t…misty cloud or curdled milk or something. There are whole pages of so-called whites on paint charts, though they mostly look the same to me.”

  Alistair gave him a gentle smile. “T
he heat’s getting to you, isn’t it, Sir?”

  “How do people around here not combust? This place is like a furnace—I feel like I’m desiccating just standing here. What I wouldn’t give for a dose of London drizzle right now and that’s not something I ever thought I’d say.”

  “We’re English. Our bodies are not equipped for more than two hot days a year—and by hot, I mean low eighties, not high nineties. Everything here seems to be air-conditioned to the point of frigidity, and I’m sure the house will be, too, once we get inside. You’ll be much happier then.”

  “It’s entirely your fault we’re here, you know that? Now you’re a famous photographer, everyone wants a piece of you. Even multimillionaires. A personal invite from Taylor Denman is not to be sniffed at.” Carey gave Alistair a kiss to demonstrate his pride. “I’m so proud of you love, even if I am being fried alive.”

  “Do you wish I’d turned down the invitation?” Alistair gazed at him anxiously. “I would have if you’d asked me to.”

  “Absolutely not! Ignore me, sweetheart. The heat’s making me fractious. I’m very glad you accepted the invitation and I’m intrigued to meet Mr. Denman since he sponsored your exhibition in San Francisco. It was an enormous success. I’ve never seen so many sold stickers at a show before and it wouldn’t surprise me if he bought some of the pictures himself. You worked really hard to get everything set up, the launch was wonderful but exhausting. Mr. Denman’s offer to spend a few days at one of his hotels was a perfect way to end our trip so you could hardly turn down an invitation to meet him in person. It’s a small price to pay for an all-expenses paid stay in the best hotel in Palm Springs.”

  They walked toward the house, glittering quartz gravel crunching beneath their shoes.

  “I have to confess I’m a little nervous.” Alistair gripped Carey’s hand tighter.

  “There’s no need to be. I’m here and I’ll take care of you.”

  “You always do.” Alistair smiled, and Carey’s breath hitched. Alistair was beautiful, the sun glinting on his blond hair, his skin showing a hint of tan from several weeks in the sun.

  “And I always will.” There was no doubt about that in Carey’s mind. Taking care of Alistair was the single most fulfilling part of his existence.

  As they approached the huge front door of the property, it swung open. Carey expected to see a butler or maybe a personal assistant, but it was Taylor Denman himself who stood waiting for them. Carey recognized him from pictures he’d seen in the press. Taylor was casually dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned arms and the curl of a tattoo. He was a striking man, about Carey’s age, his chestnut hair starting to silver at the temples. A trace of stubble shaded his jaw, and there were laughter lines around his eyes.

  “Welcome, gentlemen. I’m so glad you were able to make the trip from San Francisco.” Taylor stepped forward with a welcoming smile.

  “Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Denman,” Alistair said. “We’re so happy to meet you.”

  “Call me Taylor. You’re Alistair of course, I know you from your catalog picture, so this must be Carey.” He shook hands with Carey first, then with Alistair. “Come inside, it’s hotter than the surface of the fucking sun out here, excuse my language.”

  Alistair giggled. “You and Carey are going to get along really well.”

  “I thought it was only us rain-soaked Brits who couldn’t handle it,” Carey said, following Taylor into the icy-cool interior of his home. “I’m melting.”

  “I was born in Canada. Alberta. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat, but my business interests make having a home here convenient. I keep an apartment in New York but I thought you’d appreciate a few days here in Palm Springs after the bustle of San Francisco. It’s a lot more relaxing than The Big Apple.”

  “We certainly appreciate it,” Carey said, gazing around the entrance hall. “It’s rare that we get to spend a few days alone together, and the exhibition was a little frantic. Thanks to you it drew a lot of attention.” He was impressed by the cool colors and sleek minimalist design. The area managed to be welcoming even though the cathedral-like ceiling height could have made it intimidating.

  His eye was drawn to a wall displaying a single large picture. Carey smiled. It was one of Alistair's photographs, blown up to huge proportions. The original was one of Carey’s favorites. It showed a vast, ancient oak, standing alone in a rural landscape at twilight, its gnarled limbs outlined against the sky. A silhouette of a fox was just visible at its base. Ironically, it hadn’t taken hours of patient waiting for an animal to appear. He and Alistair had driven out to the Chiltern hills one afternoon and had been taking a stroll after an early dinner at a nearby restaurant. Alistair, his photographer’s instinct always active, had lifted his camera and taken the snap after spotting movement. He hadn’t even known it was a fox until he’d looked at the digital image. It had been pure luck that the picture had come out so well. It had sold at a London gallery, but the buyer had remained anonymous.

  Alistair edged a little closer to Carey’s side, blushing. “Now you know what happened to the picture,” Carey said with a chuckle.

  “I was curious,” Alistair admitted. “Anonymous buyers are intriguing.

  “The original is in my study,” Taylor said. “I had this print made specifically for this space, and you have no idea how many compliments it draws. I’m loath to praise your work in public, Alistair because it never fails to increase competition for the pictures I want to buy. I’m a covetous man—I want the best for myself.”

  “I’m so flattered. The picture certainly suits this space. I’m glad it went to someone who appreciates it.”

  “Well, I’ve added several more to my collection thanks to the San Francisco exhibition. Shameless self-interest got me involved and as sponsor I got first pick, which caused huge annoyance to several acquaintances. An added bonus, I admit.” He grinned, mischief glittering in his eyes. “But I have to confess that it’s not the reason I’ve invited you both here. I’m afraid I have been somewhat dishonest. Of course, I sponsored the exhibition for absolutely genuine reasons, but over the last year things have come to light that I think you may be able to help me with. A personal matter.”

  “You have my attention,” Carey said. “Does this have something to do with Alistair’s photography skills?”

  “No. Actually, Carey, it’s you that I think can help. Let’s go sit in the sun room. I have light snacks set out in there, and cold drinks. We can relax and you can hear me out.”

  Carey exchanged a curious glance with Alastair who shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the mystery. They both followed Taylor through the house pausing to admire the pictures and sculptures that were displayed everywhere.

  The sun room proved to be constructed entirely of glass but managed to remain ice-cold. Several comfortable loungers surrounded a low glass table and there was a magnificent view of the sweeping grounds. Carey guessed that the hint of glittering water in the distance must be a pool.

  They settled into their seats, Carey and Alistair next to each other, Taylor opposite them. Taylor offered them a selection of drinks. Alistair opted for chilled mango juice while Carey accepted a light beer, mirroring Taylor’s choice. On the table sat several platters of cold finger food, which was tempting but Carey wanted to hear what Taylor had to say before switching his attention to snacks.

  “How do I start?” Taylor leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

  “I find it’s always best to be direct,” Carey said.

  “Perhaps the best way for me to introduce this subject is to mention that we have a mutual acquaintance.” Taylor stared at the view rather than meeting Carey’s eyes. “A close friend of mine, Lorcan Wilder.”

  Alistair reached for Carey’s hand. Carey took it and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Lorcan is a good friend of mine too. How do you know him?”

  “We met through various business dealings before he sold his comp
any, and now I’m involved in some of his philanthropic endeavors. I contribute to a number of the projects he supports through his foundation but that’s not why I mentioned his name. Lorcan told me all about his stay at The Retreat and how he met his Rowan, who I have to say is the sweetest young man. He’s perfect for Lorcan.”

  “They are very well suited,” Carey said, not bothering to conceal his curiosity. “But what’s your interest in The Retreat? I have to admit I would never have guessed that was what you wanted to talk about.”

  “I know I can trust your discretion,” Taylor said, finally meeting Carey’s gaze. “And for that reason I’m going to give you a bit of context. My wife died a long time ago, but she and I enjoyed a relationship that was not always vanilla. I’m not completely ignorant of the BDSM lifestyle, though Anya and I never played outside of the privacy of our own home. I’ve also known Lorcan for a long time, he knows I like to play occasionally.”

  “You understand that The Retreat only caters for men?” Carey said.

  “Yes, I do.” Taylor chuckled. “I’m sorry, I’m usually more direct than this. I’m not interested in a stay at The Retreat for myself. It’s for my son, Zac.”

  Alistair squeezed Carey’s fingers, and Carey gave him a nod to let him know he could speak. “Mr. Denman, Taylor, are you saying you want to book a stay at a BDSM retreat for your son?”

  “I suppose I am, Alistair.”

  “Forgive me for saying so, but that’s rather unusual.”

  “I realize it’s rather a strange request, but I can assure you it’s in his best interests.”

  “That’s so cool.” Alistair beamed. “The Retreat is an amazing place.”

  “We are a little biased, though,” Carey admitted. “Okay, a lot biased.”

  “I can assure you that Lorcan has the same opinion otherwise we wouldn’t be talking. I’ve taken his advice on this. I know this is…unusual but I’m extremely fortunate in having a very close relationship with Zac. He’s always been very open with me, and I’m proud that he feels able to be that way. I’m not sure whether I knew he was gay before he did or if it was the other way round, but he never had to come out to me. I’ve always been as supportive as possible and encouraged him to be open when he felt he could.” Carey nodded his approval. “However, being my son comes with a unique set of issues. Over the years there have been several threats against Zac. Let me be clear, that’s got nothing to do with his sexuality, it’s to do with my money and the fact that he’s my only heir. Zac has always had to deal with understanding that he’s at risk of being kidnapped. He’s recently finished college but his roommate was also his bodyguard. Other than the Internet, he’s had very little chance to explore the way he tells me he feels.”