by Qwillia Rain
“I was supposed to cover the skirmish, but I passed it off to Simon.”
“Simon Dunstan?”
Mike nodded, dropping his head against the back cushions and closing his eyes.
Bryce waited, then asked, “Where were you? Dad and I tried your cell as soon as we heard.”
His brother chuckled, the lines of his face looking younger for just a few moments. “It’s probably at the bottom of the Aegean.”
“You went sailing?”
“Yes and no. I was doing some photo editing and enhancement work for a friend. They happened to have a boat, and I went out to get some shots and lost my phone over the side.”
“Okay, so you were helping a friend.” Bryce kept his skepticism quiet regarding the work Mike was doing. He’d broach that subject later. “How did you find out about Simon?”
“The friend I was helping told me about the story. They knew I’d passed the job to Simon when I agreed to help them.”
“How’s he doing?”
Mike shrugged. “Doctors say he’ll make a full recovery.”
Bryce could read the doubt and concern in his brother’s face. “You don’t think he will?”
“Physically, yeah, he’ll be fine. There was no permanent damage done to him. It’s what they made him do and what he saw that’re tearing him up inside.”
Bryce didn’t ask any questions, he simply waited for his brother to continue if he was going to.
“I keep thinking it would have been me. I would have been forced to take pictures of…” Mike shook his head. “When I found out Vance was the soldier who led the unit to rescue Simon, I felt even worse.”
“Vance? Justiss?”
Mike nodded. “I stopped by the hospital on the way into town to see if Vance’s friend, Ben Murphy, was on duty, but they said he’d just left.”
“Will he make it?” Bryce made a mental note to contact the hospital in Germany. Make sure Simon and Vance were getting the best care available.
“He’ll survive, but the doctors were whispering about secondary infections and shrapnel when I had to leave to catch my plane home.” Mike leaned forward, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll go by Ben’s house in the morning. They told me he was working second shift.”
“Since she lives on the same street as Ben, try to be nice if you run into Lawrence’s sister,” Bryce cautioned.
“I’m always nice.”
“No, you’re always propositioning her.”
Mike held his hands, palms up in front of him. “Can I help it if my artistic nature demands I get her on film?”
Bryce laughed. Resting his arms along the back of the sofa, he warned, “Rein in that artistic nature, little brother. By the end of next month, Lyssa may be your sister-in-law.”
His brother surprised him when he lunged out of his seat and glared down at him. “You proposed marriage?”
Baffled by his sudden anger, Bryce rose to face Mike and nodded. “Yes.”
“Why her when you’ve already got Mattie?” Mike demanded. “Okay, hell, I admit Lyssa is beautiful and smart and amazingly talented. What man wouldn’t want her?”
Bryce held up his hand. “Whoa. Stop right there. I think you’re a bit confused, Mike.”
“You just said you proposed—”
“To my Lawrence,” Bryce clarified, chuckling at the chagrined look on his brother’s face. As he watched the information register in his brother’s exhausted brain, Bryce wondered if perhaps Mike’s interest in Lyssa went beyond art.
“Oh.” Mike dropped down onto the sofa with a low snort of laughter. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“Not to mention enlightening.”
“Wait.” Mike looked at Bryce carefully. “You’re serious? You really proposed marriage to Mattie? When?”
“Today.”
“What did she say?”
Bryce returned to his seat facing Mike. “She’ll give me her answer tomorrow. She wanted some time to think it over.”
“Why?” Mike asked.
“Why did she want some time to think it over?”
“No. Why propose to her?”
Bryce could feel his brother’s scrutiny. “It was time.”
“There’s more to it than that. You’ve been circling her like a great white with a sweet yellowfin tuna for eight years. Proposing sex I can see, but marriage? No. There’s something else going on here.”
“I didn’t think I’d been that obvious.”
“You weren’t, but I know you better than most people.” Mike fought a yawn.
“Why don’t you go get some sleep?” Bryce suggested. “We can discuss this in the morning before I head out to the Folly.”
Dragging his hands down his face, Mike agreed. “Yeah, I’m beat.” Groaning, he pulled himself off the sofa and picked up his bags. Before he turned toward the bedrooms, he met Bryce’s gaze. “Is Dad okay?”
Having risen from his seat, Bryce nodded. “Yes. He’s fine.” Settling his hand along his brother’s back, he squeezed Mike’s shoulder. “We were both nervous when we first heard about the kidnapping, but once we confirmed it wasn’t you, and that the journalist had survived, we both calmed down.”
Mike grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
“Just don’t let it happen, again, Mike.” Bryce met his younger brother’s brown eyes. “I don’t want to think what losing you would do to the family.”
Chapter Three
Hovering beside her SUV, Mattie hesitated. The drive out of San Diablo to Bryce’s home had taken her past the Club and toward the cliffs overlooking the Pacific. The challenge she was about to issue reminded her of the first time she’d stood at the western edge of the land surrounding Pirate’s Folly. The sheer drop at some spots was easily eighty feet or more and had made her stomach roll at the thought of tumbling over. A well-maintained fence kept guests from nearing the edge of the precipice, while hidden near two wild rosebushes, one with white blooms and one with red, was a set of steps carved into the rock face that led to an expanse of beach and a finger of land jutting out into the water. The combination of safety and danger had stirred the need she’d developed to test the boundaries of propriety. Ironic that Bryce should choose to marry her for the very thing from which she struggled to break free.
Shaking away the thoughts, she smoothed the skirt of her dress and crossed the cobblestone drive to the three broad steps leading onto the wraparound porch. Ionic columns supported a similar covered porch above it around the second level of the Greek Revival mansion, before ending where the angled roof became a widow’s walk around the four turreted corners of the third floor. Near the eastern corner of the veranda, a wide porch swing sported white and green gingham cushions. Similar pillows rested on the seats of two rocking chairs on the western side of the door. Refusing to lose herself in imagining the sunset from either comfortable spot, Mattie pressed the doorbell and waited, fighting the urge to tap the toe of her low-heeled slide.
“Miss Mattie.” The smile on the older woman’s face was welcoming as she pulled open the door.
Mattie smiled back. “Hello, Etta.” She followed Bryce’s housekeeper into the foyer.
“Bryce is upstairs, but he should be down any moment.”
“He told me he’d purchased another horse and it was supposed to arrive today.” Mattie was surprised that, as nervous as she was, she could recall the comment Bryce had made the previous week.
The older woman glanced over her shoulder as she led Mattie into a sitting room. “That’s why he’s upstairs. He just couldn’t let Deacon handle it. Had to see to the horse himself.” Hovering near the door, she asked, “Would you like a glass of sweet tea?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
Left alone, Mattie didn’t bother sitting down. Having visited Bryce’s home in the past to help with various parties and events, she was familiar with the different downstairs rooms.
Antiques mixed with modern furniture in many of the rooms. Matt
ie had always been impressed by how comfortable the house felt. Although the polished wood floors and tiled entry and hallways were showroom quality, the Folly, as Bryce liked to call it, was a home. Etta had been housekeeper on the property for nearly twenty years while her husband, Deacon, managed the stables for Bryce.
“Here you go.” Etta set a tray with two filled glasses and a pitcher of sweetened iced tea on the coffee table before moving toward Mattie as she stood beside one set of French doors leading onto the porch.
“Thank you.” Mattie accepted the glass the older woman held out to her and sipped.
“That’s a lovely dress,” Etta commented. “One of your sister’s?”
“Yes.” Mattie nodded, smoothing the purple silk and smiling at the sensual feel of the fabric.
“If I hadn’t known your voice, Lawrence, I would have never recognized you.” Bryce’s comment from the open door of the sitting room had both women turning.
He was always so sexy in his business suits, with ties and perfectly pressed shirts, that Mattie forgot how much more devastating a pair of faded jeans, boots, and a T-shirt looked on him. His gaze skimmed over the knee-length halter-style dress she wore, as well as the simple braid she’d twisted her waist-length brown curls into. Her pulse skyrocketed. Something in his pale green eyes had her body on alert, but she held her ground and fought the urge to stammer out an explanation for her appearance.
Bryce took his time collecting a glass of sweet tea from the tray. His attention remained on Mattie, taking in the flush on her cheeks and the way she gulped her drink. He’d known there was a figure beneath the boxy coats and loose trousers she wore at the office. The sedate gowns she’d worn during the dinner parties she’d helped him with had hinted at the full breasts and curving hips, but this dress did nothing to hide them. The deep V of the halter and the fitted light purple band of material highlighted her hourglass shape and had his imagination substituting something black or even red and made of leather to show off her body.
“You know,” he began as he walked around her, his eyes taking in every fold of fabric and the curves it revealed. “I have to say, the investment I made into your sister’s design business has been profitable, but I’ve never seen the real benefits until now.”
“I’m sure Lyssa would be surprised at your comments,” Mattie returned with a hint of annoyance. “Her designs are becoming very popular, and your returns have reflected that.”
He could see her pulling her composure together and tallied another mark in the plus column for reasons to marry her. Not that he needed any more proof to support his decision. “True, but I could have a valid argument in my favor if she could see what you normally wear at work.”
She laughed, propped a hand on her hip, and smirked. “Who do you think designed the clothes I wear at work?”
She was definitely going to be a handful, but the taming would be as stimulating as her training. More than just the dress was making his cock hard. The flirty look in her eyes, the smile, all of it was producing an effect he hadn’t lost control of in twenty years. “I’ll have to talk to her about that.”
“You can try, but my sister is very independent.”
“Like you?” He stepped closer, watching for any signs of discomfort.
Mattie shrugged, sipped her tea, and waited.
It would take her time to adjust to his play, but she’d get there. The spark of challenge in her eyes, the determination in her expression, all pointed to a strong will. And it was just that kind of will that would make her the perfect sub for him. He’d known that when he first met her. As Richard had said, he’d put years of work into getting Mattie to this point, and he would be able to reap the benefits soon.
“You’ve made your decision?” he asked, finishing his tea and setting the glass back on the tray.
“Shouldn’t we discuss the party?” she offered, gulping down more of her tea. “That was the original reason I was coming out here.”
Bryce waved off the idea of discussing the dinner for the Australian businessman. “I trust you have everything under control, Lawrence. You always do.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he repeated his question. “You’ve made your decision?”
“With reservations.” The hand came off her hip, and she set her glass down beside his.
“Reservations?”
Mattie nodded. She could hear the curiosity in Bryce’s voice and hoped it wouldn’t become something else once she explained her request. After talking it over with Lyssa the night before, it made sense. “Yes.”
“Yes, what? Yes, you’ll marry me, or yes, you have reservations?”
“Both. I’ll marry you, but I wanted to discuss something with you first.” Moving toward the French doors, she chose her words carefully. Hell, she’d spent half the night trying to figure out just how to broach the subject. “You said my reputation would make the board believe I’d have a settling effect on you.”
“Yes.”
She glanced over her shoulder. He was still standing where she’d left him, beside the coffee table, thumbs tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “Would that also mean the board would expect you to end your visits to the Diablo Blanco Club?” Her gaze returned to the expanse of grass leading to a small gazebo. “A-and your other…interests?”
“If it’s necessary to gain the support of the board, then perhaps I might. But according to my father, the primary concern the board has isn’t with the type of sex I indulge in, but the variety of partners I’ve had.”
“And their tendency to blab secrets to reporters?” Mattie offered as she turned to face him.
Bryce nodded. “And that.” He seemed to gauge what she might be thinking before suggesting, “Is there something you want to know about my interest in dominance and bondage?”
His expression didn’t change nor did his voice, but there was something about how he held himself that had Mattie hesitating. Still, she wanted an answer to the doubts plaguing her. “As your wife would you expect me to do…that?”
“By ‘that,’ do you mean submit?”
Mattie held his gaze and nodded. “Yes. I would like to know what role you see me assuming in our marriage.”
“Partner.” His response was cool and immediate. “I’ll expect you to give as much as I do to the relationship. Compromises will have to be made on both sides, and I don’t intend either of us to deceive each other about the goals we set for ourselves and the company.”
Glass-fronted bookcases were built into the walls beside the French doors while between them was a black marble fireplace. Leaning against the lower, cabinet-style portions of one of the bookcases, Mattie shook her head in disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like the expected arrangements in a master/slave relationship.”
“How much do you know about the lifestyle, Lawrence?” Bryce settled into one of the wing chairs near her.
“Only what I’ve read online and in different books.” Moving closer, Mattie eased onto the settee, facing him, and leaned forward to refill her glass with tea. Lifting his glass, she filled it after he nodded in answer to her silent question.
“What kind of books?” He accepted the glass and waited for her answer.
“Some fiction, some nonfiction.”
“Depending on the authors of the nonfiction, you’ll run across the various philosophies associated with the scene. As for the fiction, ninety to ninety-five percent of that stuff is garbage, made-up ideas and fantasies from an overactive imagination.” His reasonable tone had her relaxing.
“Still, an equal partnership doesn’t give me the impression you expect me to participate in a…” She wasn’t sure how to complete her thought.
Bryce finished for her. “A Dominant/submissive relationship.”
She nodded and sipped at her tea.
“Why would you be concerned about a D/s arrangement?”
Mattie set her glass down and rose to begin pacing again. “Because I can’t see you maintaining a regular marriage if you deny
your sexual interests.”
“I told you we would have a normal marriage, Lawrence. If I need sex, I’ll be coming to you.”
She looked so agitated and out of sorts pacing the floor in front of the French doors. Bryce hid the smile tugging at his lips behind his glass. Perhaps her introduction to his lifestyle wouldn’t be as far off as he’d planned. Though he’d intended to gradually introduce her to the D/s scene, her preoccupation with his past Dominance boded well for him.
She seemed to come to a decision and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “Yes, but you’re a Dominant, Bryce. I can’t see you staying satisfied with nightly servings of the missionary position.”
“So, what are you offering?” He leaned forward, keeping his head down and hiding his smile from her as he set his empty glass back on the tray. Schooling his expression before he turned to her, he added, “That as long as I keep it discreet, I can indulge my need for spankings and anal sex with other women?”
“You said infidelity wasn’t an option.” Her tone was curt and the heat of anger darkened her brown eyes.
Bryce nodded and rose. “True, keeping it secret from the board would be difficult since a few of them, as well as my father, are members of the Diablo Blanco Club.”
Mattie nodded. “You’d lose whatever gains you’d made if you decided to stray.” Her arms folded over her chest. “Not to mention the speed at which I’d be slapping you with divorce papers.”
“Don’t like to share, huh?” Bryce moved closer. He had to admit, it excited him when this woman stood toe-to-toe with him in verbal battle. Nothing got him harder faster than Lawrence in a snit and ready to chew him out over some perceived infraction. Hell, he could practically name every time he’d intentionally ticked her off just to get a rise out of her.
“Never have. Never will.” Her expression was stern.
Leaning close, he held her gaze and whispered, “How do you feel about being shared?”
He watched the motions in her throat as she swallowed. Her arms dropped, and she started to step away from him. Time to test his theory. “Freeze, Lawrence.” Every inch the Dom, he held her eyes and let the master inside take over.
