Sold as a Domme on Valentine's Day

by Juliana Conners

  She switched gears on me the moment I said it. Her face fell, and a frown knitted her perfectly sculpted brows.

  “Excuse me?” she said loudly. “Do I look like a piece of ass to you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Hadn’t she just initiated everything? And I had turned her down? What the hell was she even talking about?

  “You’re all the same, you know that?” she said.

  She was talking loudly enough for everyone around us to hear her. I wanted to get away from her. She was drama on wheels. But I couldn’t just turn around and walk away.

  “You walk in here, wearing your fame like a crown, and you think you can just get with any girl you feel like? Well, I’m not that kind of woman. I have respect for myself, and I would never let a pig like you put his hands on me.”

  She turned around and stormed away, leaving me to wonder what the hell had just happened. I glanced to the side to see who had been watching. Faces were turned toward me from all around. One or two phones were lifted in my direction, too.

  Dammit! Wasn’t this just fucking perfect?

  I left the gym. I couldn’t spend more time there after they had recorded me looking like I had been harassing a woman. Which made no sense because in all my life, I’d never had to resort to such tactics.

  I could have any woman I wanted with the snap of a finger. Yet there was one who for some reason freaked out on me for not wanting her and tried to make it look like I had. She must have been fucking crazy.

  When I arrived home, I got into the shower again. I stood under the hot spray until the water ran cold. Was I going to have to deal with this for the rest of my life? Was I going to be portrayed as the asshole every time I spoke to someone?

  Of course, most of the time, I was an asshole. But what if there were times I was nice? Didn’t that count for something?

  Obviously not.

  My phone rang when I got out of the shower. I tied a towel around my hips and walked to the bedroom where I’d put the phone on the bed. Lacey’s name flashed on the screen, and I smiled.

  “Hello, Beautiful,” I said.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice cold. “You idiot.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Did you think that it wouldn’t hit the internet the moment you left that gym? You’re all over Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, you name it. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Blood drained from my face, and I sat down on the bed.

  “Look, Lacey, I can explain.”

  “Save it, Bell,” she sneered. Usually I thought it was cute when she called me by my surname by right now I was not amused. “I’m not even going to go into what it means to me personally. We’ll focus on the professional ramifications of this. Just your reputation alone isn’t going to hold up if you go on like this. You don’t seem to care that you’ll lose it all. Everyone else around you is scrambling, trying to fix the shit you get yourself into, and all you seem to do is repeat the same stupid mistakes.”

  “It’s not what happened,” I said. “Was the whole thing even caught on tape? Did you see all of it?”

  “No one is going to care what your version of events is, Hanson.” At least it wasn’t Bell anymore. “I told you— people only see what they want to see. They’re only going to care about how it looked. Which is horrible. It’s all over the internet, how much of a womanizer you are. Is this really the image you’re trying to maintain? Are you set on doing this? Should I just give up?”

  “Lacey.”

  “Don’t,” she said, not letting me speak. “I’m going to have a hell of a time trying to sort this out with your coach. Thanks to you, I have more than enough damage control to last me the rest of this week.”

  She hung up the phone before I got to say anything else. I stared at the phone. A part of me wanted to throw it against the wall.

  Dammit.

  I didn’t even get to explain myself. But it was clear she didn’t want to give me the chance.

  Chapter 24 – Lacey

  “This isn’t something we can’t handle,” I said to Thompson. “It’s not nearly as serious as the DUI, for instance.”

  I sat in the Shark’s Coach’s office at the training facility at Nova Southeastern University, trying to do damage control after Hanson had decided not to train at the facility but in a standard gym. It was like he was looking for trouble.

  Coach Rudi Thompson rolled his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to me, and I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to stick up for Hanson, either, but it was my job.

  After all the publicity Hanson had been getting, and none of the good kind, Coach Thompson was considering kicking him off the team for good. Seeing as how he’d already been suspended for six games, that wouldn’t look very good for Hanson. It could potentially ruin his career.

  “What am I supposed to do with him, then?” Thompson asked. “You can’t tell me you don’t know what he’s like. What’s stopping him from doing it again?”

  I nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. And I can’t tell what the future holds for him. But he’s been trying to change his image. The donation was a big one, and he’s helping with the city’s homeless committee after he visits the hospital. Those all count.”

  “Not for much, if videos like these keep getting released,” the coach said. “Have you seen how many views he’s gotten? You would swear football has become a new reality show.”

  Coach Thompson leaned forward, and his windbreaker rustled. He was dressed in what I saw as standard coaching attire, sweats and a windbreaker, with a cap that was pulled low over his eyes when he was outside.

  “For what it’s worth, he says he didn’t do it,” I told him. “I know…”

  “…he said that the last time,” we said in unison.

  Coach rolled his eyes, and I didn’t blame him. It was taking all the willpower I had not to roll mine too.

  “But I just wanted to give his side of the story, since he’s my client and all,” I told Coach, clearing my throat at the “client” part. “He says the girl started everything, and then got mad at him, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, I know. But it’s his story.”

  I had been able to talk to Hanson a bit more about the incident. I wanted his story to be true, but I was no fool. I wouldn’t let myself be hoodwinked by a player like Hanson Bell. I had stupidly thought that maybe we had something important going on, but clearly I was just a piece of meat, which was fine with me.

  Wasn’t it?

  My phone rang.

  “Let me take this,” I said. “Excuse me.”

  I stepped out of the office and answered. “Tell me you have good news, Conrad.”

  “I do,” he said over the phone. “I did some digging. The girl is a model. She’s on all the major runways.”

  “So, this can be a publicity thing?” I asked. “She kicked up a fuss on purpose, to get her name in the spotlight?”

  “I wouldn’t go around telling everyone that without a statement from her of some kind, but yes.”

  “I don’t need more than speculation to make this go away for now. I’m not going public with it.”

  “Great,” Conrad said.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I said.

  “Remember that when you’re out with the rich and famous, doing rich and famous things,” Conrad said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

  He loved that I’d needed to turn to him for help on this. I hung up. I would deal with my own damage control later. It would be a lot easier than what Hanson was throwing at me.

  I couldn’t help but admit, though, how glad I was that Conrad said the evidence could match Hanson’s story. I was probably a fool not to give up hope, but at least there was some support to back up my foolishness.

  I opened the door to the office and stepped back inside.

  “My sources just confirmed it,” I said. “The woman, Kelsey Dean, is a model. She’s been hitting it big on the runway, and she’s been seen a
round town with other athletes. Chances are, it was just a publicity stunt.”

  Coach Thompson regarded me for a moment. “You think so?”

  I had him. He was considering it, and that was all I needed.

  I nodded. “What better way to get into the limelight than by being scorned by Hanson Bell? He already has a record. You, of all people, know how tough the guys can have it in this world.”

  Thompson nodded. He was close enough to the players to get a taste of the spotlight without really being in it himself.

  “I’m not sure if Hanson did anything to cause her to go off,” I admitted to him. “I’ve watched several different videos and they all started filming after the girl flew off the handle. So, it could be that he is completely innocent, or it could be that he was giving her a hard time about something, but in any event, there isn’t enough evidence to condemn him. And she definitely seemed to be quite loony tunes in that video. I’m not sure it’s enough to make people believe her over him.”

  My heart pounded, as I allowed myself to believe my own words. Perhaps this was all a complete set up against Hanson. But I couldn’t allow myself to believe what I wanted to believe. I had to remain objective and professional— advocate for my client instead of getting caught up in his web of drama.

  Damn myself for sleeping with him!

  “So, you don’t think I should extend his suspension?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Let him carry on with his public services like we’d planned, and let him play in the meantime. If he’s on the field, his actions off the field will be noticed that much more.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Thompson said.

  “I understand your concern. But he is trying. And this incident was out of his control. Yes, we don’t know exactly what he said and he probably should have just stuck to the team gym for working out because he knows how important this time period is in terms of public image and avoiding any kind of drama at all, but we can’t exactly expect to keep him locked up 24/7. And that girl got exactly what she wanted. It sounded a lot like she was setting him up.”

  I was going to force myself to believe that. The video had been posted less than four hours after I’d left his place. It was a slap in the face to think that he wanted any of this to happen, that he would have taken her home.

  Coach Thompson rubbed his palms on his knees.

  “Okay, Miss Townsend,” he said, finally. “I’ll let him play. But if any of this goes wrong, I’m not just going to blame him.”

  “Of course not,” I said, getting up. “I’m his PR Manager. You hired me to do a job, and if I’m not doing it, I’m equally to blame for his actions.”

  I didn’t like saying the words, but they were the truth. Thompson shook my hand, and I left the office. When I’d come to the coach, he had been so angry, it had taken me half the morning just to calm him down. At least, Hanson wasn’t off the field. Not yet. If he kept it up, I couldn’t promise that would be the case for much longer.

  Chapter 25 – Lacey

  I walked to my car, feeling drained. It wasn’t even noon yet, and I was exhausted. That was partly because I had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, having sex. It was also partly because I’d had to fight the whole morning to restore the dignity of a man I didn’t feel exactly deserved it.

  And to think, I’d slept with him. Not once, but twice. The first time had been because he’d been hot as hell in that damn tux and he’d just donated so much money to the hospital. There was something about selflessness that just turned a woman on. I wasn’t sure what it was. The second time had been my fault.

  I’d been so drunk, I’d only been able to think of two things, sex and Hanson. I had gone to him and put the two together. And it had been a bad idea. It had meant nothing to him.

  Of course, it didn’t mean anything to me, either, I quickly reminded myself. I didn’t care about Hanson and what he might feel for me. My own ego was a little bruised that he’d been able to get over our night together so quickly, but that was it.

  I didn’t care what he did and with whom, when he wasn’t with me. I didn’t care.

  I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care. Maybe if I repeated it enough times to myself, it would be true.

  I stopped in my parking space and made my way to my office. I’d just sat down behind my desk when Conrad knocked on my door.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “It worked,” I said. “Your call was just in time.”

  He nodded. “It’s a pleasure. You just let me know if you need my help again to do your job.” He winked at me.

  I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “God, what a morning,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

  “He’s a handful,” Conrad said. He wasn’t even asking. It was a statement.

  “You have no idea,” I said. “If any other guy does what he’s doing, it would just be written off as a guy thing. Some men are like that, and women accept or reject them, and nothing comes of it. But he’s so damn famous, everything he does has repercussions.”

  “It’s good for the good stuff, but when it goes bad, I get it.”

  I nodded and glanced up at Conrad.

  “You should be glad you don’t have clients like mine,” I said. “Yours always seem so timid.”

  Conrad chuckled. “We can swap.”

  I shook my head. That sounded like a good idea. I wasn’t in the mood for Hanson’s shit anymore, but I had to deal with it.

  “I have to get back to work,” Conrad said. “My boring clients await.”

  He left my office. I rubbed my hands down my face, not caring that I was wearing makeup. My back hurt from standing on my heels too long. My neck ached. It was where I kept all my tension. And I hadn’t eaten at all.

  The phone rang, and I picked up.

  “Townsend,” I said.

  “Hello, Lacey.” At least he wasn’t calling me “beautiful.”

  “You’re phoning me on the office line?” I asked.

  “I was worried you might not answer if I called your cell,” he said.

  Right. That would have been a possibility. I wasn’t in the mood to speak to him.

  “You’re my client,” I said. “I’m not going to ignore your calls.”

  “But you might not want to speak to me, either way.”

  I didn’t respond to that. It was true. Just because I had to didn’t mean I wanted to.

  The problem with sleeping with my client was that I couldn’t just recover from it in peace and forget what I’d done. I had to see them and speak to them all the time. It was one of the reasons why sleeping with Hanson had been such a big mistake.

  That, and the fact that he was a first-class asshole.

  “What do you need?” I asked.

  I’d wanted to be rude about it, but I kept myself in check.

  “I wanted to thank you for talking to Coach. He was really pissed at me, and you smoothed it over.”

  I sighed. “It wasn’t easy. You need to keep yourself in check. I don’t think you realize how easy it will be for him to get rid of you again.”

  “I know, I know. I was thinking, let’s go out for a drink or two. I want to thank you properly for what you’ve done. What you’ve been doing. For me. Right now, I still have a career thanks to you.”

  I didn’t hesitate before I answered him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hanson.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not going to take that risk and be seen in a public place with you if it’s not for business.”

  He sighed. “Are you sure? It’s just to say thank you.”

  “I’m sure. Others might not interpret it that way.”

  He didn’t fight with me. Instead, he politely ended the call and hung up. I was relieved. I wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

  When I finally got home, my feet were aching, and my head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. It had been a long day. I wal
ked to the bathroom and opened the taps, running myself a bath. I rarely took a bath. It took too much time and I was always so busy. But I needed to relax.

  I poured bath salts into the water, and the steam smelled like lavender and rose right away. I was just about to strip down when a knock sounded at my door.

  I sighed and turned off the taps before walking to the door. When I opened it, Hanson stood on my doorstep with a bottle of wine.

  “No limousine?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Don’t be like that,” he said. His voice was gentle.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” My tone had been unnecessary. “What are you doing here?”

  “You don’t want to be in public with me. I get that. So, I brought the drink and my thanks to you.”

  He held up the bottle of wine. I glanced at it. It was an expensive bottle, a Chateau de la Tour.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Hanson. Not tonight, okay? I just want to be alone.”

  Hanson swallowed. He looked dejected, but he didn’t argue with me. I closed the door on him and leaned against it. I half-expected him to knock again. He didn’t.

  I walked to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. When I sank into the hot water, my body finally relaxed, and the tension slipped out of my shoulders bit by bit.

  It had been sweet of Hanson to come around to the house. He had taken what I’d said about not being seen together in public seriously. It was another act of selflessness. He had it in there, somewhere. And it was nice that someone cared.

  No. I wouldn’t think like that. I didn’t care what he did, and he didn’t care about anything other than getting some ass. I was just stressed and my guard was down. I didn’t need a man.

  Yes, we had slept together, but it had just been about sex. That was what it would always be about with me.

  I had made myself a promise, and I would stick to it.

  No strings. No attachments. Only sex.

  So why was it so hard to stick to those rules with Hanson Bell?