Auctioned to the Spanish Dom [The Spectrum Auctions 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Doris O'Connor

  The minute the door shut behind them, Mike swore.

  “Fucking hell, Peyton, how did you get into this mess?”

  Arms crossed, blue eyes blazing, he sure didn’t look a sub now. No, Mike was thoroughly pissed and looked about ready to put Peyton over her knee.

  She blinked back fresh tears, and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. That article is not the one I wrote. My editor didn’t look happy when I handed it in, but I never thought she would do that.”

  Mike ran a hand through his hair and some of his tenseness left him.

  “Do they all hate me now at the club?” she asked, hating the wobble in her voice, and Mike’s harsh features softened.

  “No, though I reckon it would be a damn sight easier if they did. Slade’s got his hands full doing damage control and, well, let’s just say I carry some marks of my own. Scarlett was pretty pissed.”

  “I’m sorry, Mike. Pedro, is he…I mean how is he?”

  Mike sighed and shook his head.

  “He’s not in a good place, girl. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  Peyton’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and Mike pulled a tissue out of his trouser pocket and handed it to her. Peyton blew her nose noisily and murmured her thanks.

  “I don’t know what to do. He won’t answer my calls, and now they don’t even connect.”

  “He most likely blocked your number. Like I said, I’ve never seen him like this. It’s downright scary. He thinks you betrayed him, and this assault charge may just push him over the edge.”

  “Assault charge?” Peyton screeched the question and Mike winced and lifted his long index finger to his lips.

  “Ssshh, I’m supposed to be taking your statement and then it’s Pedro’s turn. I fear for my balls.” A grim smile lit up his features and Peyton clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. She took a deep breath and continued in a more even-tempered tone of voice.

  “I didn’t press any assault charges, so, surely this is all bull?”

  “I’m afraid not. Your brother-in-law is friends with the commissioner, and after Pedro’s pelt. Fortunately the commissioner is a friend of the club, shall we say, and gave me the case.” He laughed as Peyton’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Yeah, lucky me, eh? Anyway, you’re right of course, that it will not go any further if you deny the allegations, unless the crown prosecution thinks it would serve the community to press charges. The commissioner will ensure that doesn’t happen, and it’s unlikely anyway. They’re overloaded with cases as it is. However, we need to be seen to follow protocol, so with that in mind, tell me in your words how you received those marks.”

  Peyton sighed, and cheeks flaming, filled Mike in.

  Two hours later, she signed her life away and Mike took his leave. Peyton couldn’t help but think that she would never see him again.

  * * * *

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Pedro stared down Mike, and his fingers itched to bury his fists into the other man’s face.

  However, Mike was here on official business, and besides, Scarlett hovered around him like a fucking mother hen. As much as Pedro was spoiling for a fight, he didn’t fancy taking on Scarlett. No, there was only one woman’s ass he wanted to beat black and blue, and he was highly unlikely to ever see her again. Besides he had never hit a woman in anger, and he wasn’t about to start now. That would make him into the monster the papers were making him out to be.

  It was small comfort that Peyton had not added fuel to the fire. She hadn’t been seen out in public since the article broke, and she hadn’t made any further allegations, but fuck, it hurt.

  Despite Slade’s warnings, Pedro had read the article her rag of a paper had printed and his gut twisted even now. Reading what they had shared so grossly distorted had made him feel sick. Had this whole thing been an act on her part? When had he become so blinkered that he read her so wrong?

  It was enough to do your fucking head in. But what had he expected? She said she was after the pay rise, didn’t she? But this…this took the whole thing to a new level of crazy fuckery.

  “She’s pulled fucking assault charges on me?” He growled the question and stepped right into Mike’s personal space.

  Not that it had any effect on the man-made mountain. He simply crossed his arms and stared Pedro down.

  “Did I say that? Pedro, with all due respect, get your head out of your ass and listen.”

  Slade gave a humor less laugh, and Scarlett laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder in a clear touch my sub and you’re dead gesture.

  Pedro swore and took a step away.

  “You’re gonna let your toy talk to me like that, Scarlett?” he asked, and she shrugged her shoulders.

  “Right now, Mike is here on police business and you’d do well to pay attention to what he has to say. Someone has to break through that thick skull of yours.”

  “Meaning what, exactly, Scarlett? The woman fucking lied and then put those lies on paper, and now she’s claiming I fucking assaulted her? How do you expect me to react to that? Just grin and fucking bear it?”

  Scarlett groaned and shook her head. “Of course not, if that’s what she actually did.”

  Pedro snorted and laughed out loud. It was that or fucking cry. Peyton’s betrayal just hurt too fuckin’ much.

  “Pedro, Peyton is cut up about this as you are, trust me, Sir.” The quiet address in Mike’s deep tones brought Pedro’s head up. It wasn’t often that Mike showed that level of respect to anyone other than Scarlett.

  “You’ve seen her?” he asked and immediately regretted asking that. But fuck it, he couldn’t just shut off his feelings for her.

  “Yes, I took her statement first at the insistence of her brother-in-law. He is the one who’s pressing for charges. She’s currently in hiding at his house, as the reporters are camped on her doorstep. With the court case she’s been reporting on, before this shit happened, domestic violence is high on everyone’s radar at the moment. The irony of her being a supposed victim is not lost on folks.” Mike’s grim smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Some fucking victim,” Pedro grumbled and Mike sighed.

  “Actually, I do believe, she’s as much a victim as you are in these circumstances. She was absolutely horrified when she learnt why I was there, and she looks like shit.”

  Pedro took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “She asked after you.”

  Pedro’s heart leapt, and he scowled.

  “And I should care about this why? If her lies have caught up with her, then fine. I hope she’s fucking miserable. Now take your fucking statement and then leave me the fuck alone.”

  Mike sighed, and Scarlett and Slade left the room.

  “Okay in your own words, Pedro, tell me how she got those marks, and as long as that tallies with Peyton’s statement, then I’m sure I can bury this under mountains of paperwork.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Pedro asked.

  “Then things get more complicated.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pedro stared into the murky depths of his brandy glass, oblivious of his surroundings. Nothing felt right, and he couldn’t even find the energy to drown his sorrows in the finest beverage Club Spectrum had to offer. He had no intention of playing later, so he could have indulged, but like anything else lately, he had no enthusiasm for it. Home wasn’t home anymore, because everything reminded him of her. Reporters were hounding his every step, and even here at the club, all he could see, all he could relive were his scenes with Peyton. He was turning into a right fucking loser, sat at the bar of an empty BDSM club at lunch time.

  Pedro shut his eyes and cursed under his breath.

  “Stop scaring the little subbies.” Jonas’s voice in his ear made him open his eyes. “You just made our little Rissa jump out of her skin.”

  Jonas grinned at the pretty brunette, and she blushed and almost dropped the glass she was polishing.
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  “Don’t mind him, baby girl. He’s just got out of the wrong side of the bed again.”

  Pedro offered a grim smile to the barmaid, and she scurried off to stack the glasses on the opposite end of the bar.

  “What do you think her story is?” Jonas asked, and Pedro didn’t miss the way the young Dom’s eyes followed Rissa as she went about her duties.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her? Making moon eyes at her is not going to achieve anything now, amigo.”

  Jonas laughed.

  “Says the man who’s sat here every night, and now it seems daytime too, moping like the living dead.”

  Pedro growled low in his throat, and Jonas laughed and took the glass out of his hand and downed it in one go.

  “What the hell?”

  “You’ve been staring into that glass for the last hour. Seems a shame to let it go to waste. Go home, sort your head out, and decide what you want to do. This isn’t healthy. Go and fucking see her and get her side of the story.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Jonas. Fucking her once does not mean you know her.”

  Jonas shook his head and got up.

  “Sometimes you’re a real ass, Pedro. Fool yourself all you want, but I was there. I saw the two of you together. You can’t fake that connection. That girl is head over heels in love with you, and she’s in trouble. She needs you, and you need her, so go sort this mess out.”

  Jonas walked off, leaving Pedro to his brooding thoughts, and he swore and stalked out of the club. Maybe getting his frustrations out at the gym might help.

  Movement behind the bushes that lined the car park caught his attention, as the sun glinted off the long lens of the ever present reporters. They couldn’t enter the premises, but there was no law against them loitering on the public footpath outside.

  No wonder the club was half empty these days. No one fancied having their face plastered all over the newspapers. The whole fucking mess was bad for business, as well as his sanity.

  Pedro scowled at the reporter and the man ducked from view, just as Slade’s Land Rover pulled into the car park. Slade motioned for Pedro to wait, and with a sigh, Pedro crossed his arms and leant against the side of his own car.

  “I thought you were doing something about those,” he said when Slade opened his car door. Slade grimaced and looked across.

  “I have. They can’t use any of the pictures taken here without express permission, but I can’t stop them from being there. It’s a fucking mess, but hey, I’m glad I caught you. The assault charges have been dropped.”

  Pedro’s chest tightened in relief, and he nodded and turned to open his car door.

  “I thought you should know that.” Slade said. “Also her brother-in-law is spitting the proverbial feathers. I dare say he’s going to make life very difficult for her.”

  Pedro froze as the hair on his neck rose.

  “What do you mean difficult?” When Slade didn’t answer, he swung around to glare at him. “She can just leave. She’ll be fine.”

  Slade shook his head.

  “She’s handed in her resignation at her job, you know. Caused quite a commotion, I understand, and she’s e-mailed me some interesting information about her former boss. That woman is a scandal-making cunt, I tell you. Peyton’s article isn’t the first she’s bastardized. I’ll have to tread carefully, because most of the stuff your girl sent me will not stand up in court, but I’m sure as fuck gonna nail her to the wall for what she did to Peyton.”

  “She’s not my girl.” Pedro mumbled the words, and Slade punched him in the shoulder.

  “Yes, she is. I read the original article she wrote, as did Scarlett. That girl loves you, which you would realize if you stopped acting like a fool and used your brain, for once.”

  Pedro scowled at him, but Slade wasn’t finished yet.

  “I know the timing was fucking lousy, and you’re still reeling from all that shit with your father and brother, but fuck, Pedro, wake up and smell the roses. We were all rather shocked by that fucking story the paper printed and reacted without thinking, but we’ve all agreed that Peyton isn’t to blame here. I’ve e-mailed you her original story again. Fucking read it and you’ll see and maybe we can all go back to normal around here. Laura worries over you, and I don’t want her worried. It’s not good for the baby.”

  Slade stared at him, and that annoying itch between Pedro’s shoulder blades was back with a vengeance. Could it be that easy?

  “What’s to say Peyton would even want to see me? And I don’t know where her sister lives.”

  Slade raised his eyebrows in a don’t give me that bullshit gesture, and Pedro sighed.

  “You’ve e-mailed me that too, si?”

  “Naturally. Just don’t get yourself put up for another assault charge, will you? Peyton’s sister is pregnant and about to drop, from what I understand, so go easy when you get there. And persuade Peyton to take her story to the press. She has refused, even though it would help put an end to all this shit. She seems to think you wouldn’t approve and that she can’t trust the press, even though my contact is reliable and I’ve used him after all the hoo-ha with Scarlett.”

  “Right.” Pedro shook his head to clear it of the conflicting thoughts bombarding his skull, and Slade locked his car door, waved him good-bye, and disappeared into the club.

  Pedro slid behind the wheel of his car, started the engine, and put his phone on charge. The empty display mocked him, and swearing under his breath, he grabbed the phone and checked his e-mails.

  Sure enough, there was the address Peyton was staying at right now, and the attachment.

  With a scowl, he set to read it.

  * * * *

  “Again, again, again.” Little Martin threw his chubby arms up in the air for another airplane ride, and Peyton giggled and swung him through the air again.

  Her nephew hooted with laughter, and Alicia smiled.

  “Enough, you’re spoiling him. It’s time for his nap anyway. Nanny will take him up.”

  The sour-faced maternity nurse Alicia’s husband had employed in readiness for the arrival of the twins stepped up to take the little fellow off Peyton, and Peyton relinquished him reluctantly.

  “Not tired.” Martin pouted, but the Mary Poppins nightmare as Peyton secretively called the middle-aged woman took no notice of the boy’s protests.

  “That’s as may be, but it is time for your nap, young man.” She looked down her long nose at Peyton, and Peyton barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her. “It would help if your aunt would stick to the schedule.”

  That said, she carried him off, and Peyton sighed.

  “Really, Alicia, are you sure about this? She gives me the creeps with her schedules and shit. You’ve managed before, why get her now?”

  Alicia looked uncomfortable and rubbed her belly as though she was in pain.

  “James says I will not manage with the twins otherwise. His mother employed her, and James says…”

  Peyton rolled her eyes and stopped listening.

  James says this and James says that, and she was supposed to be the brainwashed one. It was beyond ridiculous. At least with Pedro, they had negotiated the terms of their dynamics and she always had her safe word. She wanted to follow his commands. She didn’t go along with them, just because he said so, like Alicia did.

  As always when she thought of Pedro, her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away. She was nowhere nearer to a solution of the problem, and her days here were numbered. With no job, and heartbroken to boot, she had no idea what to do.

  James had become frosty to the point of rudeness with her since the assault charges had been dropped, and Peyton was under no illusion that the only reason he hadn’t thrown her out yet was Alicia’s pregnancy. That was one point in her brother-in-law’s favor. He did love his wife in his own controlling way, and her sister wanted for nothing, bar the freedom to make her own decisions, of course.


  Certainly not Peyton’s ideal of a marriage, but who was she to judge? The doorbell rang, and she sighed. They weren’t expecting anyone.

  “I’ll go and see who it is,” she said to Alicia and received a distracted smile. Before Peyton had made it halfway up the garden, it rang again, and this time the person seemed to be holding their finger on it. Impatient so-and-so. They would wake Martin up at this rate, and James would get on his high horse.

  Sure enough, once Peyton got inside, James shot out of his office and yanked the door open. Peyton couldn’t see who it was, but James’s face contorted and he tried to slam the door shut. A booted foot stopped him from doing so, and Pedro’s deep-accented voice drifted across the foyer.

  “I’m here to see Peyton, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

  “You will take your fucking foot out of my door, before I call the police. They might have dropped the charges, but you, you woman-beating pervert, will not set foot in my house.”

  Peyton winced, but to Pedro’s credit, he didn’t retaliate. Instead he repeated his earlier words. It was only the controlled manner in which he did so, his voice taking on that edge of command that meant her stomach tightened in anticipation that told of his anger. Her nipples pushed against the confines of her bra, and she would have to change her panties. God, how she had missed that tone of voice?

  “Peyton, get your ass over here, so that this…person leaves. Better still, bugger off with him.” James hissed the words over his shoulder at her, while putting all his weight against the door.

  A futile exercise, because in the next instant he staggered back, as Pedro must have put all his weight against the door.

  “Do not talk to Peyton like that, if you don’t want to eat your balls. I have not come here to cause trouble, but I will see my pequeñita.”

  Pedro’s gaze sought hers and time stood still for a moment as they simply stared at each other. It took every ounce of willpower for Peyton to not sink to her knees, crawl over to him, and nuzzle into his groin, as was their greeting when they were alone. Her brother-in-law would have a fit at this however.