by Desiree Holt
She followed him into the living room, dressing carefully under his scrutiny. As she slipped into each piece, she glanced at him as if waiting for his approval. Triumph surged through him. Yes! She definitely had a true submissive nature. He was sure her other Masters had given her the crap about power exchange and all that shit. He was the only one with the power here, and he’d damn well teach her that. This woman who commanded attention in public, who had built a solid business reputation, was going to be his slave in any manner he chose by the time he was finished with her. This was almost better than stealing someone’s company out from under them.
“This is only the beginning.” He waited until she looked at him. “I will teach you everything you need to know to please me. We’re beginning a journey, Slave.”
He could see all her emotions playing out in her eyes, the uncertainty of a new relationship and the heat of desire. Once again he waited for her response—and wasn’t disappointed.
“I understand. Master.”
“Good.” He led her to one of the big chairs and urged her into it. Lifting a tiny glass of sambuca, he held it to her lips. He was always good with some form of aftercare in the beginning, until the sub was well and truly under his power. And he wanted Fallon Crowe to leave here so taken with him, so aroused, that she would count the minutes until the next time they were together.
“Thank you.” She smiled as he drew the glass away.
“Look at me,” he ordered. When she did, he held her gaze. “Here are the last orders for today. No touching yourself when you get home. Not with your hand, not with toys, not with anything. Concentrate on the pain you feel when you sit down. Think of my hand and what I can do to you if you disobey me. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.” The words came out on a wobbly breath.
“Excellent.” He cupped her face. “I think you will turn into the perfect sub for me, Slave. Absolutely perfect. Now—time to get you home.”
As he walked her to the elevator, his mind was already busy with what he would do the next time they were together. Which would be damn soon.
* * * * *
The present
Fallon pulled through the entrance to the ranch and down the driveway feeling as if the hounds of hell were after her. She hoped with all her heart that Cord was home and breathed a sigh of relief when the garage door slid up and she saw his truck in its usual spot.
Thank god!
She pulled into the garage, shut off the engine and just sat for a long moment. She looked at her hands, realizing they were still shaking. She wasn’t even sure how she’d managed to drive home safely, as rattled as she was by Brian’s call. She’d even blown off her last two stops of the day, which meant a longer day tomorrow. But she’d been in no frame of mind to conduct business.
She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised that he was able to get her cell number. All he had to do was Google her and it came up. But after a year, she’d figured he’d moved on and forgotten about her. Written her off. Or she’d hoped.
But she also knew Brian wasn’t a man to take defeat or rejection lightly. Or betrayal. And that was how he’d seen her leaving him, and the way she’d done it.
Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes, swallowed and tried to dispel the sick feeling still lingering in her stomach. She’d been nauseous and shaking ever since she answered the phone and heard his voice. He had that effect on her even now. The man was pure evil yet she couldn’t seem to break her sick fascination or his mesmerizing grasp, despite how much time had passed. How was it that she still allowed him to maintain this invisible hold?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She was a smart woman who’d been enticed by a facet of the BDSM lifestyle she didn’t really understand, something that—she was ashamed to admit—aroused her beyond belief. And she’d fallen into a sexual hellhole. How was it possible that after all she’d been through, after the near-destruction of her mind, her body still craved what Brian offered? How sick was that? When she’d left him—or more specifically, when Claire had literally dragged her out of his house—she’d hidden herself away, first at Claire’s then at her new place in the rural Hill Country, healing until she’d met Cord.
Now she was here, in his house, in the kind of relationship she hadn’t ever thought she’d have, with a man who mastered her with love and care. Who taught her what a real D/s relationship was about. She simply could not let anything connected to Brian touch him. Or them.
I won’t see him tomorrow. And I won’t answer any more of his calls. Tomorrow I’m blocking his number. I’m done with him. Done!
Unexpectedly she felt a burning awareness on her wrists, a memory of the periods Brian had left her bound for extraordinary lengths of time. He’d always protected the skin. She was at least grateful that, despite everything he’d done, he’d had an aversion to marking any visible parts of her body. But suddenly the sensation was there, and she rubbed her skin as if to wipe it away.
Stop this! Stop it now! Don’t let yourself get sucked in again. You’re smarter than this!
She sat there for some minutes, breathing slowly, trying to blank her mind. When she was sure she had herself under control, she took a moment to refresh her lipstick and run her fingers through her hair before getting out of her car. She wasn’t sure if Cord was out with the hands checking the cattle or in the stable with the horses, but she really, really needed to see him.
To have him hold her and kiss her.
To punish her and then drive her to intense orgasm.
First, she decided, she’d go inside and change into jeans and boots before hiking through the stable or riding out into the pastures. But when she let herself in the back door, she heard voices coming from Cord’s den—his and another she didn’t immediately recognize. And Cord did not sound happy.
“I understand what you’re telling me,” he said, “but I should have some control over my own guest list.”
“I agree,” the stranger answered. “But when someone who has this much clout asks a favor, it’s not really a favor. You know what I mean?”
“I’m not a stranger to financial politics, Lee.” Cord’s voice had a harsh edge to it. “I just labored under the foolish misapprehension that here, as opposed to in the cities, it didn’t come into play.”
The man’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “Don’t be fooled. It’s even stronger here, where there are fewer top players and more to be gained. Arm twisting can be really painful if you resist.”
“So you’re telling me I really don’t have a choice.”
“Not at all. You can choose whatever you want. You just need to weigh all the consequences.”
Fallon couldn’t hold back anymore. She stepped through the doorway. Cord sat behind his desk, tension in every line of his body. In one of the deep leather chairs facing him was their host from the party the other night, Leland Grange. He didn’t look much happier than Cord. And they both looked startled to see her.
Cord recovered first. “Hi, sugar. Aren’t you home early?”
She nodded and forced a smile. “A little. Just figured I’d quit early today and catch up on the lists for the party.”
“Now see?” Grange said. “That’s just what I’m talking to Cord about. The guest list. And by the way, real nice to see you again.”
“Thank you.” She wore her best public-relations face and used her most professional public-relations voice. This was business, not personal, although everything that affected Cord had become personal to her. “Is there something we can help you with?”
“It’s handled,” Cord said in a tight voice.
“Well, actually,” Grange drawled, “‘handled’ isn’t exactly what I’d call it. Maybe you can convince Cord to change his mind.”
She frowned. “About what?”
“Adding someone to the guest list for the private opening party.”
She and Cord had spent hours refining the list, making
sure to invite movers and shakers from all over the state but at the same time keeping the list exclusive so the invitation would have more punch to it.
“Why don’t you tell me who it is?” she asked Grange. “I’m sure if he or she is important enough, we’d be happy to include them.”
Cord sat forward in his chair. “No. We wouldn’t. And that’s final.”
Now she was really curious. “Who is this person?”
“A real player on the global stage. He could steer a lot of business your way. And the bank would really appreciate it. Do you know of Brian Willoughby?”
Fallon had to sit down in the other armchair before she fell down. She hoped she didn’t look as sick as she felt.
Brian here? At their home? Tainting the very place where she lived? She clenched her hands, steadying herself, digging for some semblance of control. “We’re aware of Mr. Willoughby,” she told the banker. “Both of us are. And Cord has his reasons for not including him at this event.”
Grange sat forward in his chair. “I’m sure you think they’re good ones, but Brian was insistent that he attend this particular event.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why but he expects me to make it happen.” He paused. “Would you by any chance have an answer to that?”
Cord started to answer but Fallon held up her hand. This was her mess. She’d handle it.
“I have an…unpleasant connection to Mr. Willoughby. Cord is just trying to protect me.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that. But maybe he wants to make amends.”
That’s not even close to what he wants.
She sighed. How to handle this? But Grange interrupted her thoughts.
“In any event, folks, I think I’m going to have to insist. Brian could use any bank for his domestic interests and he chose us. We want to keep him happy. If you don’t want to send him a separate invitation, I’m afraid I’ll just bring him along with the wife.” He looked at Cord. “He could do you a lot of good, Cord. A lot. But he could also do you a lot of harm. I’m trying to protect your interests as well as ours.”
No way would Fallon let Brian hurt Cord’s business. She could do this. She could. And maybe this would be the chance to show Brian she was finished with him. Settled into a good life with Cord.
And maybe she’d even convince herself at the same time.
She focused on Grange. “Please tell Mr. Willoughby we’d be glad to have him join us. In fact, let me get you an invitation to pass along.”
“Fallon—” Cord began.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “Truly.”
She made her way to the bedroom Cord had turned into an office for her and plucked an invitation from extras on her desk. Pausing for a moment, she forced herself to take some deep breaths, hoping it would still the shaking in her hands. Digging for every shred of self-confidence, she marched back to the den. She held the envelope out to Grange.
“You’ll see that he gets this?” she asked.
“I will. And thanks.” He turned back to Cord. “Willoughby is a major presence everywhere, but the bank also values your business, Cord. And we’re invested in you. When it comes to some folks around here, the names you can boast on your guest list are almost as important as how much money you have. I wouldn’t want to put myself or the bank in the middle of a pissing contest between you and Brian Willoughby. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”
Again Fallon jumped in before Cord could say anything. “We both understand. Whatever the problems between us and Brian, we’ll put them aside to accommodate your request.”
The smile he gave her was big and almost as false as a pair of knock-off boots.
“Glad to hear it. Glad to hear it.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Thanks for this.” He indicated the envelope.
“Glad we could help. Cord?” She turned to him. “I’m going upstairs to change.”
She nearly ran from the den, racing to their bedroom where she collapsed on the edge of the bed. Her heart was racing and her palms sweating. How could she do this? How could she smile and be polite when Brian was silently digging into her mind every minute he’d be there? But the ranch and the event center meant too much to Cord. He’d poured a lot of money and sweat equity into it and she’d be damned if she let someone with a power-hungry personality destroy it.
She’d just have to make sure she had her act together when he arrived. Be cordial but cool. Polite but nothing more. And avoid him as much as possible.
She was ashamed to think something she’d done—someone she was still affected by—could intrude on her relationship with Cord and potentially ruin his livelihood. Maybe she deserved Brian’s worst for being so stupid in the first place, but Cord certainly didn’t.
She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the bed, head on the pillow, hands tucked beneath her cheek, eyes closed. That’s the way Cord found her when he came into the room.
“Girl.” His voice was soft and commanding at the same time. “I think we need to have a talk. Then possibly a punishment session.”
“Yes.” She nearly sobbed the word. “You should punish me for bringing that man into our lives.”
His fingers stroked lightly against her cheek, a soft caress.
“You leave him to me, girl. Everything will be fine.”
But she just knew it wouldn’t. Not at all.
Chapter Six
The party was in full swing. The main room of the renovated event center was filled with people, the air humming with the symphony of dozens of voices. Absolutely everyone on the list had accepted and shown up. They might have come out of curiosity, Cord thought. Checking out the interloper, so to speak. But as he moved through the room, stopping to converse with one group then another, the feedback on both the event and the venue was gratifyingly positive.
He stole a look at Fallon standing beside the high pub table she’d set up to one side, pointing out items on one of the brochures to a couple clearly focused on her every word. If anyone could sell this place, he knew she could. She had an incredible natural talent for drawing people in.
She glanced up as if sensing his eyes on her, and he swallowed a smile. Even at this distance he could see her slight nervousness. Her breasts pushed against the soft fabric of her blouse and he could visualize the nipple rings shielded by the satin of her bra. They were a stamp of ownership only he could see. Only he knew they were there. His cock hardened at the thought.
For the past few days she had been edgy. He hoped it was just the anticipation of the party and a desire for its success, and not anything to do with Willoughby.
She said she’d tell you. Keep remembering that.
He made sure the group he was talking with had their drinks and directed them to Fallon with any questions. As his gaze wandered over the crowd, it stopped on the people just coming in the doors. Leland Grange handed over his invitation and ushered his wife into the room. But it was the man entering with them who Cord focused on.
Brian Willoughby was a big man in every sense of the word. Cord judged him to be at least six foot six, with muscles barely disguised by the custom-made sports jacket he wore. His blond hair stopped just above his collar, framing a face that could have been chipped from ice. Only his eyes showed any life, twin blue flames that darted everywhere.
Cord saw the moment he spotted Fallon and watched as he started toward her. Grange touched Brian’s elbow, gesturing toward the bar, but the other man just shook his head. He mouthed the word “later” and continued moving through the crowd, focused on Fallon.
Cord focused on Willoughby, just the sight of the man making him clench his fists in silent rage.
That fucking bastard. I’d toss him out on his ass if I could. I know damn well he’s the reason she’s so screwed up. Killing him would be too mild for—
His thoughts cut off as he realized there was something about the look on Willoughby’s face the disturbed him, made him very uneasy. Cord offered a polite excuse to the man who had just come over to tal
k to him and headed toward Fallon. He arrived at the pub table just as Willoughby did, and slid his arm protectively around his girl. Claire had appeared as well, she and Cord flanking Fallon.
“Cord Jamieson.” He held out his hand. “You must be Brian Willoughby. Leland mentioned you.”
Rage flared in Willoughby’s eyes as he looked from Fallon to Claire to Cord. His handshake would have been a bone-crushing grip to another man but Cord gave as good as he got. Willoughby’s eyes narrowed but he released his hand and looked at the woman next to Cord.
“Hello, Fallon.” Despite the short greeting, his words dripped with venom.
She nodded her head once. “Brian.”
Cord could feel her trembling against him and he tightened his arm, drawing her closer. Claire made it obvious she wasn’t moving either. Cord saw the other man’s mouth tighten as he tried to keep his anger under control.
“I was hoping we could have a drink together, for old times’ sake.” His smile was anything but pleasant. “I believe you owe me one.”
What the fuck does that mean?
Cord cut off whatever Fallon might have said. “Maybe some other time. She’s very busy working tonight.” Nodding to Claire, he urged Willoughby away from the pub table. “Let me get you a drink and show you around.”
It was obvious the other man didn’t want to move but it was equally apparent he couldn’t refuse without creating a scene. A man like him would never let others see he wasn’t in control. When he followed Cord to the bar, however, the fury vibrating from his body was almost palpable.
“Bourbon,” Willoughby snapped at the bartender. “A. A. Hirsch Reserve. If you’ve got it,” he added, his tone derogatory.
“As a matter of fact, we do,” Cord told him, his voice even. “We researched our guests carefully. Apparently Hirsch is a pretty common choice in these parts.”
“You could have just asked Fallon.” He took a sip of the whiskey, watching Cord over the rim of his glass. “She knows all about my habits.”
