Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission

by Tawny Taylor

  A noise downstairs reminded her of why she’d better hurry. She ran across the thickly carpeted floor to the first of two nightstands situated on either side of the bed. She checked the surface for a phone then ran around the bed and checked the other one.

  No phone?

  She did a quick three-sixty then headed for what she hoped might be a walk-in closet on the other side of the room. Nope. Bathroom. And no laundry basket. She tried the door next to it. Score!

  She stepped into one of those closet rooms, the kind that had cedar walls and fancy built-in furniture with shoe racks and drawers. On one shelf, she found a basket, and her keys. No phone.

  Well, one out of two wasn’t bad. She could still use her cell, call Ashley, schedule a time for them to meet, and then head back to the restaurant to get her car.

  On the way, she’d tell Ashley everything. No sense keeping it from her anymore. Ashley might be tempted to do something foolish to set things right, but now that Elena had pretty much accepted the fact that her job was history, there wasn’t much damage an enraged out-of-control best friend could do.

  She jammed her keys in her pocket and hurried down the hall, back to her room. She called Ashley, told her she desperately needed her help, told her the address—thank God Kyler had left a pile of mail in his closet. They planned on meeting in exactly one hour.

  Elena didn’t want Kyler to know she’d left, at least not right away. She told Ashley she’d meet her down the street, and warned her not to come to the house no matter what. Her phone chirped a warning just as they were wrapping up the brief conversation, and died just before she ended the conversation.

  She stuffed her useless phone in her purse and rushed back down the stairs. She made it as far as the front door when Kyler came sauntering from a room just to the left of the door.

  He looked her up and down. “Where are you going?”

  She thought about lying. Then she thought about telling the truth. It was too late for the lies to do any good anymore. “I’m leaving. But don’t worry, I won’t bother going to work on Monday.” She brushed past him, her gaze locked on the door’s handle.

  He caught her shoulders and jerked her around. “No, no. We had a deal.”

  He was not going to hold her to that stupid bet, was he? This whole blackmail thing was so over with. It wasn’t a game anymore, and she wasn’t deluding herself either. She wasn’t his guest. They weren’t on a date. And he didn’t give a rat’s ass about her.

  Her heart was banging against her breastbone so hard it hurt. And she could literally see her hands shaking. “I think we both now the game’s over.” She spun back around, wrapped her fingers around the handle. “You win.”

  Once again, she was hauled back around. She growled as she tried to fight free of Kyler’s iron-handed grip.

  “You’re not leaving.” He dragged her toward the room he’d just exited, an office with an enormous desk, bookcases, couch, a pair of chairs and a sleek fireplace.

  “Holding me here against my will is false imprisonment.”

  “So, are you going to the police?” He rough-handed her toward the couch. “Sit down.” His face was the shade of a tomato as he glared down at her.

  God, this dominating, controlling jerk thing was pissing her off. She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead, at the empty fireplace. “I’d rather stand, thank you. Actually, I’d rather leave but you’re being a bastard.”

  “Fine. Stand then.” He rounded the desk and eased into the chair behind it. “I’m going to ask you one simple question, and I expect you to answer it truthfully.”

  “Yeah, so, what’s in it for me?”

  “That depends,” he said, coolly, resting his elbows on his desk. “I think you’ve got a whole lot more at stake than I do. Are you a gambler?”

  At least five seconds ticked past, each one measured by the grandfather clock standing in the room’s corner. “Fine, what’s the question?”

  “I just want to know one thing…who the hell are you? I have a picture of Elena Caine, and you’re not her.”

  Chapter Four

  Well, fuck. The cat was out of the bag now. How had he discovered her lie? And more importantly, she wondered how many other people knew.

  Petrified, she dropped onto her butt on the couch and searched his face. Was he ready to call the police? She wished he was genuinely interested in knowing the answer to the question he’d asked—for more personal reasons. Wished he was back to being the concerned guy she’d met the first night. But that guy was long gone.

  “I tried to tell you earlier,” she confessed. “In the kitchen. Remember when I told you about the cousin my brother and I had been sent to live with?”

  His brows furrowed, he nodded, steepled his fingers under his chin. “Yeah.”

  “Well, Elena Caine is—was—her name. How’d you find out?”

  “My father has a private detective on the payroll.”

  “Your father needs a private detective on his payroll?”

  “Long story. We don’t have much time. I’d rather hear yours.” His voice had softened a little, which was a surprise. She’d pretty much expected him to keep playing the heartless bastard he’d become since this morning.

  “Mine’s pretty long too, but I can give you the abbreviated version. I was born Amy Harris. Our cousin, Elena Caine, died shortly after my brother and I had been sent to live with her—and no, I did not kill her. And well…my best friend got rid of her body somewhere—I didn’t tell her to—and I took over Elena Caine’s identity.”

  He looked bewildered. She could understand his reaction. “Why would you do that?”

  She stared blindly at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “Seems pretty crazy, doesn’t it? Right out of a movie script or crime television show. In fact, my friend got the idea from a TV program and convinced me it was the only way. I did it for one reason—my brother.” She glanced up, afraid of what she’d see.

  He encouraged her to continue with a nod. His expression was totally blank, devoid of all emotion. She had no clue what he was feeling.

  “Eddy’s…sick. He has been in and out of the hospital for much of his life. The only constant in his life has been me. I was afraid that if he were put into foster care he’d either be abused, misunderstood, neglected or die.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s severely bipolar. But at the time of my cousin’s death, we still didn’t have a diagnosis. I was pretty much taking care of him around the clock. Later, I was given legal power of attorney, or rather Elena Caine was. I was forever trapped in my lie. There was no going back. And so I’ve carried around this secret for years. Until Matt found out somehow. He threatened to have me fired. Without insurance, my brother’s treatment will stop.”

  “Maybe Becker stumbled upon the same photograph my father’s detective found.” Kyler’s gaze dropped to his desk. His expression turned grim. He leaned back in his chair. Finally, he lifted his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because what I did is against the law, and frankly I didn’t feel I could trust you. I don’t just go to jail if my lie is discovered. I could live with that. It’s what it would do to my brother…”

  He bit his lower lip. “Yeah.”

  The most agonizing silence followed. She felt sick to her stomach, wondering, waiting. What would Kyler do with the truth?

  He finally lifted his head and stood. She watched him walk across the room, stop in front of her. He scrubbed his face with his hands, then shoved his hands into his pocket. “Your car’s outside. I had it towed here. Go home, Elena. I’ll figure this out on my own.”

  * * * * *

  Kyler hit the button, ending the call. Sure enough, at least some of Elena’s story had been confirmed. Tom and Sue Harris had tragically died in a car accident, leaving their two children parentless. In addition, Edward—Eddy—Harris was a patient at the Longfellow Center in downtown Ann Arbor.

  Elena had told him the truth, at
least about those things.

  Before he ended the call with the detective, he gave him one more assignment, “Check out Stacy Russell for me. Dig deep. Either she’s dirty or she’s being fed some shitty information from somewhere. I want to know which one it is.”

  * * * * *

  Elena must have sat in her car for at least an hour, staring at Kyler’s house. He’d given her her walking papers, told her she could leave. He’d take care of everything.

  She should be home now, preparing. Checking in on her brother. And looking to see how much cash she had in her stash, getting ready to pack up and leave town in a hurry.

  But she wasn’t. She couldn’t. Why?

  First, because she wanted to know who had told Kyler she was sleeping with Matt Becker. That was so far from the truth. Just the thought of that man touching her made her gag.

  As she sat there, trying to work up the nerve to leave, a million thoughts kept running through her head. Should she go to work on Monday and plant the evidence? Or should she just pack up and leave town? What exactly was Kyler thinking?

  Finally, she decided to go back up to the house and ask him. There were too many things hanging in the air for her to know how to plan. She cut off her car’s engine and hurried back up to the front door. Rang the bell. And waited.

  Kyler looked so shocked to see her, she swore she could’ve knocked him over with a feather.

  “I can’t leave yet,” she explained, coolly.

  “I’m…surprised. Ummm, come in.” He raked his fingers through his hair again as he stepped aside to let her in. “I’ve been thinking this past hour. And, well, earlier. When you…I had no right… Shit, I’m sorry. Not that I’m making an excuse, because there are none. No matter what, I have no right to treat you the way I did. But I’d heard one thing from you and something different from another person, and I was having one hell of a time knowing who to believe.”

  She could understand that. She nodded. “Who told you I was sleeping with Matt?”

  “It doesn’t matter who said what or who you’re sleeping with. That’s none of my business.”

  Wasn’t his business? That was true, but she still felt like he’d punched her in the gut when he said it.

  His gaze dropped to the floor. He shook his head. “I’m so fucked in the head.” When he finally lifted his head again, his jaw was set. His expression was so dark, she didn’t know what to think. Suddenly, he turned around and headed toward his office.

  She stood in the foyer for a few minutes, not sure whether she should follow him or just forget it and head back out to her car. Finally, she decided to try to get the answers she’d come back for. She stopped at his office door and, leaning on the doorframe, peered in. “What are you going to do about Matt blackmailing me? I just need to know, so I can make plans.”

  He was sitting at his desk, his face buried in his hands. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “Maybe I should just go away. Leave town. Start over somewhere.”

  He tipped his head up, looking at her. “Where will you go? What will you do?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But I might not have a choice. Once Matt takes the proof he has about my cousin, I’ll be fired. I wouldn’t put it past him to take the information to the police too, like he threatened. He’d do that.”

  Silence.

  “Not if I give him what he wants first.”

  “What do you mean?” She followed Kyler with her eyes as he stood, ran his hands down the front of his creased trousers.

  “I could quit. It’s a fucking shame. I didn’t want to leave my job. It’s the first thing I’ve accomplished without my father’s help, and it’s taken me over ten years to get where I am. But keeping my pride isn’t worth the price you’d have to pay.”

  Did she just hear right? Kyler was willing to give up his job—the one that clearly meant more than she had ever guessed—for her?

  She sat there, stunned, as he called Matt and told him he’d won, the VP position was as good as his, but only if he brought the evidence he had against her…all of it…to his house by six o’clock tonight.

  No one had ever done anything that selfless for her. “Thank you,” she said. It seemed so inadequate but she didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t have the means to pay him back.

  He nodded, toyed with the cordless phone. “I want to make another phone call. But I won’t, if you tell me not to.”

  “Who’re you going to call?”

  “My father. I haven’t asked him for any help in years, but I’d like to see what we can do for you. To keep something like this from coming up again.”

  Kyler had already gone above and beyond, no doubt trying to make up for his earlier mistreatment. Life had taught her that there was a price to pay for any favors done for her, at least favors that weren’t owed. She never liked to owe anyone.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know about that. I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Okay.”

  She was relieved when he didn’t push it, try to change her mind. She actually felt the air moving in and out of her lungs freely again. How long had she been holding her breath?

  He walked to her, stopped within reaching distance but didn’t touch her. Not a reassuring pat or a squeeze of the hand. Nothing. “Now go home. Get some rest. I’ll call you after I’ve had my little talk with Becker. I’ll let you know how it went.”

  This time, despite the heaviness in her chest, she had no problems getting into her car and driving home.

  * * * * *

  Kyler slid into the booth opposite Becker. “This is cozy.” Settling into his seat, he eyed the place, an Italian restaurant with a dark atmosphere and tables covered in floor-length burgundy tablecloths. “I half expected you to stiff me.”

  “I thought about it. But I what the hell? You were singing a song I liked. I wanted to hear the rest.”

  The man was shit. It turned Kyler’s stomach having to be even this close to Matt Becker. And God help the company if this kind of asshole was going to be VP. The missing money, which Becker had almost pinned on him, was the half of it.

  “So, I’d like to know, how are you going to cover your ass, Becker?”

  Becker waved a hand at the waiter and ordered his dinner and an expensive bottle of wine, speaking perfect Italian. “I’ll manage.”

  Interesting. Becker wasn’t exactly what he’d call cultured. Nor was he Italian. There was more to the slimeball than Kyler knew. Much more.

  The waiter turned to Kyler.

  Kyler shook his head. “Niente, grazie.” He didn’t exactly have a stomach for trenette alle vongole or fegato alla veneziana tonight. “If I resign on Monday, you’ll forget everything you know about the office manager.”

  After a long moment and several swallows of wine, Becker smiled. “I could be…convinced…”

  The bastard was looking for more? Fuck that.

  Disgusted, Kyler stood. Leaning over the asshole, he whispered, “Two can play this game, you fucking piece of shit. You want to make an innocent woman’s life hell by dragging all her skeletons out of her closet, then I can do the same. Your closet isn’t exactly uninhabited, is it?”

  Something flashed in Becker’s eyes. Fear, perhaps?

  If things didn’t go his way tonight, he’d get in touch with the detective again, see if he could dig up more details about this guy. He was hiding something.

  Dammit, if he’d had more time, this conversation might have gone very differently. In fact, it might not have gone at all. Instead, he might have been talking to the police right now, giving a statement.

  Eyes narrowed, Becker set down his wine glass. “How about you sit down and we talk about this?”

  “Last chance.” Kyler sat, crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me the proof I came for, tell me you’re going to forget you’ve ever heard or read anything about the office manager, or I’ll take what I have and go to the police.”

  “If you had anythin
g, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. Giving up your job.”

  Kyler shrugged. “Maybe I was tired of playing the sales and marketing game?”

  “I don’t buy that. So, the question I want answered is why would you give up your job for the secretary? She’s nobody.”

  No, that was just it. She wasn’t nobody. Not to him. But admitting that would only make things harder for her. “Yeah, she is nobody. Like I said, I’m not giving up anything for her. What do you care, anyway? By Monday, I’ll have my resignation handed in to the Board of Directors and by Tuesday, they’ll be interviewing new applicants for my job. We both know who’s on the top of their short list for the position. So, what’ll it be? Vice president? Or state’s ward?”

  Becker thought about what he’d said, reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. “How do I know you won’t take this and forget about our deal?”

  “Because I’m not the double-crossing shit that you are. I actually keep my promises.” He swept up the envelope, crammed it into his pocket and left the restaurant as fast as he could.

  That was one conversation that left him feeling sick. It would be a long time before he’d be able to enjoy another Italian meal without his stomach lurching into his throat. A damn long time.

  When he returned home, he called Elena. She didn’t answer, so he left a short message, saying that things had gone well, and he hoped she had a good week at work.

  Even though the situation had more or less been handled, he spent the next few days pacing his house, feeling caged-in and twitchy, restless. What was that bastard Becker trying to hide? The detective was still working on some things.

  Stacy called to check on him a few times. He didn’t answer, just let the voicemail pick up. She left a couple of messages, saying she was worried about him, hoped he was doing okay and letting him know that she’d heard through the rumor mill that he’d quit and Becker had been named VP. Would he please call her?