Beyond the Compound: The Compound Trilogy - Book 2

by Claire Thompson

  “What?” Ronan asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “No, I don’t,” Ronan lied. Was it that obvious?

  “You’re falling for her. It’s written all over your face.”

  Ronan shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. “Nah. I mean, don’t get me wrong—she’s great. The best. You did a hell of a job finding her, George. But falling?” He shrugged again, aware George wasn’t buying his story, though he stuck to it. “You know me better than that. Ronan Wolfe never falls. I’m impervious. Just ask People Magazine.” He managed a grin.

  “Yeah, okay. Play it that way if you want.”

  Mercifully, George let it drop as Hailey returned to the table. Ronan turned his focus to the food. Everything was delicious, the menu especially chosen for them by Gerard himself, who appeared midway through the meal in his crisp white chef uniform to inquire if they were enjoying the repast, and if there was anything else they needed, anything at all. Ronan assured the man, famous in his own right, that the food and the service were excellent.

  The three of them talked amiably and easily as they ate, and Ronan was glad Hailey felt comfortable and free enough to contribute to the conversation. She was bright, funny and perceptive. When asked, she entertained them with stories about her training at The Compound, which she infused with humility and grace, even while making them laugh. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, and they managed to consume two bottles of wine with their meal. They all agreed they were too full for dessert, though they did enjoy some espresso and fresh berries with vanilla cream.

  “This was a great idea,” Ronan said to George as the three of them prepared to leave. “Thanks for getting us out.”

  “My pleasure,” George said warmly, his eyes twinkling as he added, “And thank you for your graceful submission, Hailey, dear. You were breathtaking, as always.”

  Hailey blushed prettily and smiled at the floor. Ronan pressed the bell to summon the waiter. “Can you have my car ready out back, please?” He had already arranged to cover the dinner bill beforehand, not wanting George to have the chance to pay. He handed the valet ticket to the young man, who took it with a nod and disappeared.

  Ronan put his arm around Hailey as they walked down the narrow hallway toward the outside exit. As they stepped into the night, a sudden blinding rush of lights flashed. A swell of people swarmed toward them like human locusts, buzzing with menacing intent.

  “It’s Wolfe! That’s Ronan Wolfe!”

  “See, I told you the tip was good.”

  “Hurry! Ronan! Over here! Look over here!”

  More lights flashed as the crowd closed in around them like piranhas on the scent of blood. Hailey shrank against Ronan and turned her face from the lights.

  “What the fuck?” Ronan swore, instinctively drawing Hailey closer.

  “Ronan, who’s the knockout girl? Do we know her?”

  “Hey, sweetheart! Look this way! Smile for the camera, babe!”

  Hailey stared with dazed, frightened eyes toward the oncoming mob waving cell phones and cameras like pitchforks and brooms. Ronan dropped his arm from Hailey’s shoulders and pushed her toward George, who swept her from the fray as Ronan turned to face the paparazzi. He had learned the hard way that if you showed even the slightest hint of irritation at having cameras and microphones shoved into your face at any time of the day or night, for any reason whatsoever, you would be vilified in the gossip rags as an arrogant prick who didn’t appreciate his fans. The backlash that invariably resulted would affect everyone with you.

  Damn it, he should have followed his first instincts and kept Hailey home, safe and sound. Instead all he could do now was damage control. “I’m just out with some old friends,” he said with a forced smile, hoping he’d managed to keep the murderous fury from his tone.

  “Get her into the car,” Ronan called as a section of the paparazzi broke away from him to cluster around Hailey and George. They were peppered with questions as the cameras clicked relentlessly. Though it seemed like an hour, in reality only seconds passed before George managed to slide with Hailey into the backseat.

  Thrusting a tip into the valet’s open hand, Ronan jumped into the driver’s seat, rage pulsing in his head like a hammer. Forcing himself to call out a good night to his attackers, Ronan gunned the engine and made his getaway.

  ~*~

  “It’s okay, really. I’m fine, I promise.”

  The three of them were sitting in Ronan’s study, a room Hailey had never spent much time in before. Ronan, who had barely spoken during the drive from the restaurant, still looked grim-faced as he stared down into his brandy snifter. He’d already apologized a dozen times for the paparazzi invasion, and though it had been rather shocking while it was occurring—all the flashing lights and peering faces waving cameras and cell phones as they shouted—it had happened so quickly Hailey had barely had time to register what was going on.

  “I’m sorry it got out somehow that we were there, but really, other than an annoyance, there’s no real harm done,” George added. “Armand will be thrilled. You know what he says—any press is good press. Now the blogs can go wild with speculation about Ronan Wolfe’s mystery girl.”

  Though he still didn’t look too happy, Ronan nodded and forced a smile. “I guess. As long as you’re sure you’re all right, Hailey. I know you value your privacy.”

  Hailey smiled at him reassuringly. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I promise I’m okay. I’m only sorry the evening was spoiled for you.”

  The forced smile eased into something more authentic, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, other than the ending, it was a great night, and you were the star attraction, slave Hailey.”

  Embarrassed but pleased, Hailey set her snifter carefully on the coaster. The end table between their chairs was especially beautiful, made from a dark wood with stunning designs in lighter woods inlaid around the edges. To change the subject, Hailey remarked with sincerity, “This table is really beautiful. Is it an antique?”

  Ronan shook his head. “No. I made it, actually. I made all the pieces in this room, as a matter of fact.” He waved his hand to take in a large desk, several chairs and a sofa, all of it made from the same dark, lustrous wood, with intricate designs carved into the legs and arms.

  “You made this?” Hailey was both awed and stunned by this revelation of yet another layer to this enigmatic man.

  “Ronan used to be a humble carpenter, before he was ‘discovered’.” George drew quotations in the air around the word.

  “That’s how I earned my living for years,” Ronan agreed. “It’s what I really love doing. I miss working with my hands. I miss the peace that comes with creating beautiful, functional things.”

  He looked so sad as he said this that Hailey nearly asked him why he didn’t return to it. She held her tongue, however, aware that, even though this evening felt like three friends sharing a glass of brandy after a delicious meal, she was still his hired slave girl—nothing more.

  George drank the last of his drink and set his glass down. Hauling himself to his feet, he said, “Well, I’m going to head on out. I want to be first in line in the morning for the tabloids, so I can add some pictures to my scrapbook.” He grinned. “Assuming I’m in any of the shots, which is doubtful.”

  Ronan glowered and George playfully swatted at the younger man’s head. “Relax, buddy. It’s no big deal. Just part of the game—you know that.” He turned to Hailey and smiled. “Have a good night, sweet girl. Keep this young Master in line.”

  Ronan walked George to the door. Hailey waited in the hallway. It was after midnight, and normally by now she would be tucked into her little bed beside the dungeon. She touched the sleeve of her pretty dress, wondering if she should take off her clothing now that they were alone again. The night had been such an aberration, she wasn’t sure what was expected of her.

  Not sure what to do, she dropped to her knees
and waited, head bowed. She heard Ronan’s footsteps and felt his presence as he stopped to stand in front of her. He tapped her shoulder and she rose to her feet. “Take off those things,” he commanded in a low, sensual voice. “All of it.

  Hailey slipped off her shoes and reached back to unzip her dress. She stepped carefully out of it and placed it on the hallway side table, another beautiful piece of craftsmanship she recognized must be Ronan’s.

  Lifting her leg, she balanced her foot on the top of the low table, consciously posing in a way that her Master would find pleasing as she slowly rolled the silky stocking down her leg. As she shifted her position to remove the other stocking, she stole a glance at Master Ronan, and was at once gratified and thrilled to see him watching her with hungry, burning eyes.

  Once completely naked, she stood at attention, arms crossed behind her back, awaiting her Master’s next bidding. She expected him to tell her to go up to bed. And, in truth, she was exhausted, not used to eating so much food or drinking so much alcohol, coupled with the unwelcome excitement that had followed the meal.

  Master Ronan surprised her by saying, “I want you in my bed tonight, slave Hailey. Does that suit you?”

  She stood stunned for several beats. Night after night as she curled up alone in her dungeon loft, she had dreamed of falling asleep in this man’s arms, not as his slave, but as his lover. Was tonight the start of something new?

  Stop it, she admonished herself. Don’t anticipate, don’t manipulate. Obey with grace. Answer the question.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, hoping her voice sounded calmer than she felt. “That would suit me, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  He led her up the stairs and into his bedroom. “There should be an extra toothbrush in the bottom right drawer under the sinks,” he said, waving toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to get out of my things.”

  Hailey went into the bathroom, ordering herself not to speculate on how many other women had opened the drawer to choose from the several wrapped toothbrushes. Ronan came in while she was washing her face and took up a position at the second sink. Hailey stole a look at him as he brushed his teeth, allowing herself a brief fantasy that they were an old married couple, shocked at how right it felt.

  She preceded Ronan back to the bedroom. He had turned off the light, but the room was bathed in the silvery glow of the full moon coming through the large picture windows that looked out on the ocean behind the house.

  Again not sure what to do, she knelt beside the bed in an at-ease position and waited, consciously clearing her mind of clutter as she invited peace to take its place. She closed her eyes and slipped into a simple meditation, taking herself back to her Vermont home. Hummingbirds flitted to and fro around the feeder she’d set up on her back porch, and the wind chimes tinkled in harmony with the rush of the creek at the edge of her property.

  How she missed her little cottage, and the peace of her quiet life. Not that she would have given up the months of training at The Compound, or this incredible opportunity with Master Ronan. Deep-seated and long-held needs to submit had finally been fully explored and met with this adventure, and she didn’t regret a minute of it.

  If only she could have it all…

  Ronan tapped her shoulder. She rose, head still bowed. He took her into his arms. She melted against his strong naked body. Ronan pressed her down onto the mattress and lay beside her, again taking her into his arms. Lifting himself on an elbow, he looked down at her. He stroked the hair from her face. “I’m sorry about tonight,” he said again.

  “Really, I’m okay. I promise.”

  He nodded and smiled ruefully. “I guess I’m the one with the problem, huh? I hadn’t realized it quite so starkly before, but I hate my life.” He barked a laugh and ran a hand over his eyes. “I know, that sounds so fucking entitled, right? Don’t think I don’t know it. I’ve got it all—the fame, the career, the stuff that goes with it.” He shook his head. “I guess it’s just not what I thought it would be. When I first got into this, I thought it would be fun—a new challenge, something completely different. But somehow I got pigeonholed into these action films, and while the pay is great, it’s not really acting. It’s saying three lines and then working with the stunt men to make the car crash scenes and leaping from burning building shots look realistic. I’m selling a brand—those are the actual words my agent uses, and he sees nothing wrong with that. I miss just being a regular guy who can go out with his girl without having to hide out to do it. I miss making furniture—creating something beautiful, something real.”

  Go out with his girl… Was she his girl? She forced herself to focus on the man, instead of her own silly fantasies. He looked so woebegone, and her heart broke a little for him.

  “Permission to speak, Sir?”

  He smiled sadly. “Of course, yes. Please.”

  “If you hate what you’re doing so much, why don’t you just quit?”

  He snorted. “Don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me. It’s not as easy as you think to just walk away. I’m like an industry, for god’s sake. I’m tied in every which way. And I’ve made it. I’ve hit the big time, but it ain’t gonna last—that’s what my people, my handlers, are always reminding me. How can I just walk out on that?”

  Hailey said nothing to this. She recognized she didn’t understand the intricacies of whatever he was dealing with. This was something he would have to work through on his own. What the hell did a small town yoga instructor know about Hollywood? At the same time, she was deeply gratified that he’d felt close enough and safe enough to confide in her.

  What would happen tomorrow, though, when they resumed their roles as Master and slave?

  She would face that in the morning. Right now, she dared to reach for him, her heart thumping as he allowed her to pull him down into her arms. They lay quietly, and though she could feel his erection against her thigh, he made no move to claim her with his body, and gave no sign he expected anything from her.

  She snuggled against him, breathing in his inviting masculine scent. Ronan lay still beside her, his eyes closed. Though she would have been ready and willing to service her Master in any way he wished, she could no longer deny the increasingly persistent tug of sleep. She closed her eyes, and dizziness assailed her, thanks to the wine and brandy still working their way through her system.

  With a final sigh, she gave in, letting sleep claim her as she lay in Ronan’s comforting arms.

  Chapter 9

  A persistent buzzing sound wormed its way into a particularly nice dream, but it was Ronan’s shout that jerked Hailey fully awake. “What? What the fuck are you talking about! What do you mean it’s all over the goddamned internet! How is that even possible?”

  The room was flooded with sunlight. Ronan, in the bed beside her, held his cell phone to his ear in a white-knuckled grip. He looked hard as stone, the anger in the air around him shimmering like sudden heat. Alarmed, Hailey tensed beside him.

  There was a stream of feminine chatter from the phone, during which Ronan’s countenance darkened even further. “No, I will not tell you who she is. Are you out of your goddamned mind? I don’t want it out there, are you insane? This is my private life, damn you. Jesus, Pat, you’re my publicist. Fucking fix this. Get it taken down. I don’t care what it takes—just do it.”

  He tapped the screen to end the call and threw the phone down onto the bed. He turned to Hailey, his face crumpling with what could only be described as mortification. “Oh, Hailey. I am so, so, so sorry.”

  “What’s going on, Sir?” she queried, trying to keep the distress his behavior was causing at bay. Surely he was overreacting? “Is it the photos from last night? I told you, I’m okay with it. Nobody knows who I am anyway. Being linked to the famous Ronan Wolfe isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a girl.” She bit her lip, afraid by the sudden flash in his eyes that she’d gone too far.

  “It’s way worse than that. Way worse,” he said ominously. His words
made her stomach swoop unpleasantly, and her left temple had started to pound. He retrieved the cell phone and clicked on the screen. He held it so she could see.

  “It’s everywhere—apparently it hit about three in the morning, and it has gone viral. I could sue that fucking restaurant into oblivion, but what good would that do? The video is still out there. Damn it, I never should have taken you out of the house.”

  The video on the screen was in black-and-white. It took Hailey a moment to understand what she was seeing. “It’s some kind of security camera feed,” Ronan continued. “That little shit waiter must have decided to trade his job for this fucking piece of tape. The only saving grace is there’s no audio, but still…”

  Hailey watched with dawning horror at the image of herself walking toward the table in the private dining room they’d been in the night before. It showed her dropping to her knees and slipping under the tablecloth. Ronan’s face in the video made it clear something was happening under there to him, something he liked very much.

  Then the camera jumped, crudely edited to move to a shot of her beside Ronan at the table, her face flushed, lips parted, hands clenched on the table. Hailey wanted to look away, but found she couldn’t. The clip segued to Ronan sliding his hand into the top of her dress, his eyes hooded with lust as he, and the rest of the internet world, watched her shudder and tremble to orgasm.

  Words flashed at the bottom of the screen: Ronan Wolfe caught on camera with his hand in the cookie jar! WHO is the Sex-Crazed Mystery Girl who seems to be enjoying way more than the food at Ronan Wolfe’s table? Is she a secret lover? Or just a girl toy hired for a night of dirty fun? Leave your tips regarding this sexy girl’s identity at #RonanWolfeMysteryDate. Leave your comments at #HaveWhatShe’sHaving.

  The screen went blank. Hailey felt as if she had been sucker punched, all the air ripped from her lungs. Bile rose in her throat and for one horrible moment she thought she would vomit. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears.