by Cox, Chloe
And, perhaps more importantly, there was always something else about her, something he would catch in stray moments when she thought no one was watching. Something he couldn’t identify, couldn’t name, but that made her seem vulnerable underneath her often glib exterior. Something that made him sure he would only hurt her more if he had her the way he wanted, and then, as always, proved himself incapable of a normal human relationship.
So he had done his best to stay away. Not that that did him any good now, with her ass in the air in front of him.
Even so, he was grateful to her for making him feel good, as she so often did without knowing it. Especially now that he’d just come from another board meeting at Stephan’s House. Now was a very good time for something to come along and help him feel good.
Which was why he was so dismayed when he took in the rest of the scene and pieced together what she’d been doing. Or at least the bare outlines of it. Why she’d want to burn a manila folder in the middle of Lola’s office was still a mystery.
“What were you doing?” he said quietly.
Catie leaned back on her calves, her fingers leaving dull streaks of ash on her pretty white dress, and looked up at him with huge blue eyes. She looked sad, defeated. Disappointed. In herself? And yet relieved.
That she stayed on her knees in his presence only tormented him. The image of Catie looking at up at him with those red lips wrapped around his cock flashed unbidden in his mind.
“I asked you a question,” he said.
“Oh God,” she said, wringing her hands. “Please don’t tell.”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and Jake realized she’d started to cry. He felt a surge of something, something unfamiliar: he wanted to protect her.
From what? She has obviously done something.
“Tell me,” he said, striding toward her, half wishing she would get up so he could stop thinking about her natural submissiveness. “Now.”
“I was…” She looked about, at all the evidence strewn around the ground, at the still recognizable chunk of manila folder where she’d dropped it. It was clear she was casting about for a story.
“Don’t lie to me, Catie,” he said.
“If I tell you the truth, I lose everything,” she said, so softly he wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.
She looked up at him with those sad eyes again, and he clenched his fists to keep from touching her. In another moment, he might have. Except for the sound of footsteps in the hall.
Catie hissed as she sucked in her breath, and Jake’s own shoulders stiffened. This was not the kind of moment that benefitted from interruption. His mind was already going through everything he knew, objectively, about Catie Roberts, everything he could call upon that had nothing to do with his physical reaction to her: she had not chosen a trainer, even after several months. She made Lola nervous. No one knew much about her, except presumably Roman, who had approved her application. This was someone who had something to hide, or believed she did, and was obviously living in fear.
She might never tell anyone if no one stood up for her.
“If anyone comes in, I will tell them that this is part of a scene,” he said. “You do not have to be afraid.”
Most of the fear left her eyes, to be slowly replaced with…something else. She flushed.
He realized, I called it a scene. I made her think…
“Catie, you must tell me,” he said, aware now of the full danger of this interaction. It wasn’t just his attraction he had to guard against. It was hers.
She bit her lip, as though coming to a decision, and put her hand down on the carpet to steady herself as she got up from the floor. That was a relief to him, at least. Perhaps he could think straight if she weren’t kneeling in front of him.
But as she bent over, a small memo pad fell from the little hollow between her breasts, a natural pocket created by the cut of the dress. Jake watched it almost in slow motion, as though some part of his brain knew immediately what it must be for. There was a pause during which neither of them moved or spoke. They both just stared at the memo pad. Maybe he was imagining it. Nothing about this felt ordinary any longer.
“Give it to me,” he finally said.
Refusing to look at him, she picked up the memo pad and rose, handing it to him. Then she simply stood there, frozen in place.
He flipped through the pages. They were notes in some sort of personalized shorthand, but he recognized enough to confirm what he feared. There was “ML”—Mistress Lola. And “MR,” for Master Roman.
And there, on so many pages, was “Jake.”
“Catie,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, “explain.”
~ ~ ~
Catie could barely think, there were so many different feelings shooting around inside her. She was afraid, of course. She was terrified. Jake was holding her book. He was looking at her book. Even if he couldn’t decipher her notes, he’d know she was a liar.
She should be dealing with that. She should be dealing with that awful calamity, that utter catastrophe that was about to ruin everything. But her body was so buzzed by his presence, by the tone of his voice, by the way he’d ordered her around…
Oh God, think, Catie, think!
She could smell him. He smelled like sweat and spice. Her whole body tingled when he spoke.
“Catie, please do not make me ask you again.”
She forced herself to look up at him. His eyes had darkened, and his expression had become grim. This was bad. His anger was frightening in a way, like a slow, cold cloud rolling in over the flat sky. Not in a violent way, but in a way that felt terrible to her: he’d think less of her. It only made her want him more.
What is wrong with me?
“Ok,” she said, taking a breath. She could do this. She was an actress, for Pete’s sake. “It’s for my thesis. School.”
She’d always had a fantasy of being a respected classicist somewhere, flying around giving lectures on the stuff she used to read about when she was little. She’d found the books in her dad’s office and read, at first because she thought her dad was interested in Marcus Aurelius and the ancient Greeks and the rest. By the time she figured out the books were just for show, she really was into all of it. She used to pretend she was a great scholar. The memory was a happy one, until she remembered that Jake actually was supposed to be an academic. An adjunct professor? Guest lecturer? Something at one of the big New York schools. In what? Crap, that was important…
“Your thesis,” he said. His eyes bore into her, pinning her in place.
“I know, it’s not…ok, it’s not as bad as it looks, I promise,” she said, warming to her subject. “Chivalry and BDSM and gender roles. I know that doesn’t sound all that impressive to you—”
“Tell me where you are enrolled.”
He really didn’t ask questions so much as state the prerequisite to whatever he wanted you to say next.
“It’s a working title,” she trailed off. Jake’s expression was unyielding. Didn’t he believe her? It was a lie, but it was a good one. If he was at one of the famous schools, she’d better name one of the others. “City community college. Part time.”
He looked down at the notepad again, flipping through some more pages. Every new page seemed to enflame him further, every new page another example of her deceit. She felt worse with every flip.
“Is this why you’ve never chosen a trainer?” he asked. “Why you’ve never ventured into any classes—never participated in a scene? I’ve noticed you, Catie, hanging back and watching. Observing.”
She didn’t answer immediately. How could she? He took another step toward her, and she flinched. His expression softened.
“I don’t hurt people, Catie,” he said. “Not unless they ask me to.”
He stood so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek, could see the gentle rise of his chest underneath his Oxford shirt. He was in street clothes, a sort of professor-casual look, with a w
ell-tailored grey blazer over his white button-down shirt and dark slacks. Where had he come from?
You’re getting hysterical, Catie. Concentrate.
Yes, she had to concentrate. Had to think her way out of this predicament. And yet, all she could focus on was the hollow at the base of his neck, the little dip in his collarbone, with a few curls of hair peeking up from his unbuttoned collar.
She reached out to touch it.
Lightning quick, he grabbed her wrist. His fingers burned into her. She nearly wilted from that touch, and looked up only when she heard him grunt.
For a long moment, they stood there like that, neither of them moving.
When Jake spoke, his voice was rough. “Quickly, Catie, tell me: are you only here to observe all the freaks? Is that your only reason for being at Club Volare?”
“No.” She was surprised to find she meant it.
“Then why haven’t you chosen a trainer? Why haven’t you committed?”
“I only wanted you, and you won’t look at me,” she blurted out.
Immediately she wished there was somewhere to hide, but Jake didn’t release her, and she didn’t think she could have moved even if he had. What she’d said had been absolutely true, and she knew that he knew it. It was humiliating, and exposing, and pathetic, and thrilling to know she had just put herself in his power. His expression had frozen, a flat, unreadable mask, except for the pulsing of a vein in his forehead. His grip on her wrist tightened imperceptibly.
Oh God, what had she done?
“I don’t… I didn’t mean… This is just how I try to understand things—by studying them, by watching. I’ve just been too scared to jump in. I’m not the cannonballing type. And I was never going to out anyone, I promise, it was just…academic.”
How many lies can you tell at once, Catie? At least one of those things had been true.
She hated herself, but it’s not like she could tell the truth. Telling the truth would mean she’d lose her shot to save what was left of her family. And it would mean that this man she craved in some incomprehensible way would walk away from her forever.
He might do that anyway. She might lose everything anyway. It was all up to him.
“What if you trained me?” she said suddenly.
Jake had been frozen in some sort of controlled Zen state, but this jolted him out of it.
“Catie…” he said.
She didn’t want to hear all the reasons he couldn’t do it. It was her only shot, and the thing she truly wanted. She’d figure out how it was going to work with all her lies and planned betrayal later.
“You can train me,” she went on, “and you can read all my notes. You can read the paper before I hand it in. I’ll obey you in everything, take out whatever you want me to take out. Please,” she begged. “Please just don’t tell anyone.”
Jake inhaled deeply. He looked like Dr. Jekyll on the verge of turning into Mr. Hyde. Catie was ashamed to find that she wanted them both. She opened her mouth to speak, but he put his fingers to his lips, silencing her.
“Do not speak over me again, Catie, not in this context. That is the first thing you will learn, and you will learn it right now.”
She nodded slowly, afraid to break his gaze. Did this mean…
“Ethically, I must consult with Master Roman. I will promise not to reveal your secret, as far as those ethics allow. But that does not mean you will be allowed to stay, or that I will agree to train you.”
For all his calm, formal language, Jake was breathing hard. He hadn’t let go of her wrist.
“I understand,” she said, looking at the floor.
“No, you do not. I am going to speak with Roman now. You will wait here for me.” She felt his thumb move against the inside of her wrist and suppressed a shiver. He continued, “Naked.”
It took her a moment to comprehend. Wait—naked?
She said, “This is Lola’s office…”
Jake squeezed her wrist before letting it drop to her side. Her skin felt cold where he no longer touched her, and she looked up at him imploringly.
“Naked,” he repeated. “Strip.”
He stepped back from her, as though to get a good view. This is what it’s about, she thought, feeling slightly dizzy. This is how it works. A rush of adrenaline flooded her system, covering the guilt she still felt for lying, and spiking physical sensation in her entire body. She became aware of the heat growing in her pelvis, of the dull, thudding, drive building there. Her nipples grew tight in demanding little points under her thin dress, evidence of her desire.
He’ll see that…
“Right now, Catie.”
The window behind her was still open to the cold January air, but she could barely feel it for the heat rushing through her body. She locked eyes with Jake as she shrugged off one shoulder strap, then the other. He didn’t look away, didn’t reprimand her for what felt like a challenge. Catie wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. She wanted to obey, but she also wanted to fight him, and then she wanted him to win. So she locked eyes with him the whole time, until she stood before him completely naked.
After a moment, he gave the barest hint of a smile.
“You will wait here until I release you,” he said.
And then he was gone.
chapter 3
Jake barely escaped with his mind still intact. He had never wanted a woman so badly in his entire life. The way she looked at him! She was a sub who issued challenges without even knowing it. Did she know what kind of dance that was? Impossible. The way she’d looked at him….
It had only been a few minutes. His world had been upended in only a few minutes.
He stalked through the dimly lit halls of Volare NY, arguing with himself. Neither the Zen simplicity of the lines nor the rich sensuality of the fabrics did anything to calm him. He knew people were watching. He was famous for his reserve, his stern fortitude, his severity, and now he paced the halls muttering to himself. Well, let them watch.
Let her wait.
Oh God.
The thought of her—the memory of her—waiting for him, naked… He stopped abruptly. Why had he done that? He’d already engaged in a scene with her, without thinking, without negotiation, on the pretense of further thought. He never acted so impulsively. He was never moved to act so impulsively.
And he must think about it. Away from her. Away from the deafening lust she aroused in him. He’d wanted her since the moment he’d first seen her, but he had dealt with that with avoidance, and it had been manageable, if only barely. But somehow it was worse now, following this discovery. This…violation. There’d been something in her eyes, something beneath all the fear and sadness and regret—she liked getting caught. Did she really?
He felt his abdominals coil inside him and he licked his lips. It was impossible that he could make a rational decision in the grips of this…whatever it was. Lust. It was lust.
But hadn’t he always wanted to feel this strongly, about anything? It wasn’t love, but it was passion, of a kind. He wanted. He felt.
That might make him a terrible trainer. But she’d said he was the only one she’d wanted. Dare he believe her?
No, that part had been true. There had been more lies in the things she’d said, maybe more even than she’d intended. And he would discover them all. But that part had been true.
“Damn!”
He’d come to Roman’s office. The heavy, dark wooden door cracked slightly open, indicating Roman’s availability. Roman was not just the Master of Volare NY; he was Jake’s friend. He had saved Jake’s life, as far as Jake was concerned, when he’d brought him into Volare. Roman would offer him good counsel.
So why did he hesitate?
Slow down. Think.
He had promised not to reveal her betrayal. Why had he done that? That had been unnecessary and unwise. He hadn’t thought; he’d just done it. Again, unlike him. And yet now that the promise was made, he couldn’t break it. That was a line he simply refused
to cross.
And there was another promise he was bound to keep. A promise that said he couldn’t turn away from someone in need of help. Someone who was lost. That was the look he’d first seen when he’d caught her: she’d been lost, and afraid, and alone.
That was it. Her lies, her challenge—strength covering weakness, an offense hiding a wound. That was something with which he was familiar, that was something his heart—what there was of it—recognized immediately, even if it took his mind a moment to catch up. Perhaps that was what had drawn him to her all along.
Yet, it also left him with only two options. He could accept her as a trainee, take the duty seriously, try to ignore his own passions and hope to bring her far enough along that she would no longer consider the publication of anything that might be harmful to Volare. After all, she already had the information. She'd already been here…how long? Months? Long enough to do some damage if she felt like it.
And his second option was what? To kick her out. No. He already knew he wouldn’t do that. He’d already committed himself to that, hadn’t he?
He had. The minute he’d promised not to reveal what she’d done. The minute he’d ordered her to strip. He’d already made his decision without thinking it through, without considering all the angles, and without consulting with Roman, as he was obligated to do.
What had come over him?
Hadn’t he always wanted this? Something that made him feel enough to compel him to…do anything? Something? Even if it was only lust, it was…
Human.
So why did he feel nearly nauseous?
“When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers,” he said to himself, and opened Roman’s door.
Roman sat at his desk, his distinguished jaw resting in his hand as he surveyed Lola with a look of amused boredom. Jake knew it was the sort of thing that would infuriate Lola, and knew that it in fact had infuriated her, based on how rigid she held her back as she went through the binder that she held on her lap. Neither of them would ever admit to provoking the other, of course.
