Surrendered Control (The Control Series Book 1)

by Anna Edwards

  CHAPTER TWO

  James

  James could still smell her scent, no matter how many times he showered. She had gotten under his skin. Why had he walked out? He cursed himself for being such a fucking idiot. He could have been with her again and again, and he grew hard just at the thought.

  But he could never be normal. He could feel the tattoo burning on his back, the permanent reminder of what he was. So why did he continually torture himself?

  Sitting in his office, overlooking London, he angrily swiped the paperwork in front of him to the floor and walked to his safe, opened it, and took out a file.

  It hadn't taken Matthew, his bodyguard, long to find Amy's details. He was ex-MI5, after all.

  James read the words on the cover sheet again:

  STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL,

  "Amy Jones, D.O.B. 25th January 1996. Brentwood, Essex.

  Only child of Gavin and Judy Jones: both deceased 14th October 2012.

  Resident in Kennington, London, SE11. Purchased April 2013.

  He then returned the file to the safe and locked it.

  He couldn't do this anymore. He already regretted having Amy's details. He had a meeting and needed to concentrate on that. It was just a holiday fling. If she saw him again, after the way he had left her, she would probably slap him in the face. He gathered his papers and headed to the boardroom. His secretary flicked her hair as he passed. She clearly had a thing for him, which he was starting to find irritating.

  "Marie, can you ask Simon to have the figures on the Argentinian project on my desk in the next half hour, and could you also tell him to stop flirting with the girls in Accounts if he wants to keep his job?"

  "Of course, sir. I will see to it at once" she called after him, but he barely heard her. He was lost in the memory of Amy.

  Amy

  Amy pulled the collar of her thick coat up around her ears as she emerged from the Kennington tube station. It had been difficult to keep warm since her return home. She had acquired a beautiful tan but was unable to show it off in the miserable February weather.

  The final few days in Lanzarote had been occupied by a flurry of writing. She had managed to nearly finish her novel, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed with it.

  When she had returned home from the holiday, she put her computer in a drawer and vowed not to look at it for at least a couple of weeks. Until then, she would immerse herself in her dancing, perhaps seek some overtime, and try to forget about both her writing and her brief encounter with James. Although that was going to be hard, given how often she'd been replaying the events of that evening in her mind. Why had he been able to control her that way? How had he done those things to her body? And why did he disappear? What did she do wrong?'

  When she entered the club, Amy's uncle greeted her with a warm embrace. "Hello, little kitten. You have fun in the sun?" he kissed both her cheeks and then stood back looking proudly at her.

  'Kitten' had been her nickname since she was just four years old. She had been given a cuddly toy cat from her parents as a birthday present, which she carried everywhere as a young child, and to this day she still owned it. It now sat on top of the wardrobe in her bedroom, albeit in a slightly worse for wear condition, with just one eye and half a tail.

  Amy hesitated, blushed, and then responded. "It was lovely uncle Stephen. Thank you so much. It was ever so generous of you."

  "I'm pleased" he said. But then his familiarity changed to a business-like demeanour. "Sara has called in sick" he moaned; "I'll need you to dance on both stages tonight, and you'll only get a fifteen-minute break between." He chuckled and gestured to her tummy. "But I'm sure you ate and drank far too much in Lanzarote so it will do you good."

  Amy hadn't actually put on any weight whilst away. She'd been very careful with what she had eaten. She didn't mention anything, however, and just giggled. Her uncle always liked to have the last word. "Of course, uncle Stephen, Not a problem. I'll go get ready now."

  He was already walking away from her towards his office as he called back, "Good girl. I knew I could rely on you"

  Amy shrugged off her heavy coat, and headed towards her changing room that she shared with Sara. They had been friends ever since she started working at the club. Sara was a few years older than Amy, and had been there for almost a decade. She had an Amazonian look, with jet black hair and big sultry eyes. She was stunningly beautiful and was much sought-after by the punters in the club; a fact she often used to her advantage in generating additional income. For not only did the club provide public dancing, it also offered private lap dancing in the backrooms. Not that she would consent to doing any of these despite how much her uncle complained about it.

  Amy couldn't recall a time Sara had taken a day off sick. Worried that something could be wrong, she quickly took her mobile from her bag, texted her to check how she was, and offered to drop around at the end of her shift.

  As Amy sat down at her dressing table to apply her makeup, she could see the freckles on her face and shoulders, which always appeared upon her spending any time in the sun. Although she was supposed to wear thick makeup, she decided that tonight she was going to opt for a more natural look, and applied just a little dab of blue eye shadow, a fine amount of black eyeliner and a touch of long-lash mascara. Amy had a gentle wave to her strawberry-blonde hair. She decided to leave it down, giving her a bohemian appearance. She selected a studded bodice with a short jagged-edged silk skirt from the wardrobe and after putting them on, she slipped on her favourite pair of small silver heels. She was feeling a sense of anticipation and excitement to be returning to the dance stage that she had been away from for almost a fortnight. She loved to dance. It was a shame she didn't have any training and could actually do something like theatre work with it. All she had was dancing for drunken men. There had to be something more to her life than this.

  James

  When he arrived home later that evening, James went straight for a workout and then a shower. He stood in his large shower, resting his head against the wall of his ensuite bathroom. He had managed to put Amy out of his mind for the last few hours. The scorching water ran over his powerful shoulders and down his defined masculine chest and lean waist.

  Grabbing a towel from the rail, he dried his dripping body, put on a pair of black jeans and a blue linen shirt and headed to the kitchen.

  His mother lived with him, although she had her own floor in his large Kensington house. She helped with the housekeeping and looked after the place whilst he was away. James kissed her on the cheek as she handed him a chilled bottle of beer from the fridge.

  "Did you have a good day at work?" she asked him with a devoted smile.

  James nodded, "Did you speak to Sophie?" he asked.

  "Yes, she has finally chosen the navy gowns."

  His sister was getting married and was being a bit of a bridezilla. At twenty-three, she was five years younger than James and he adored and protected her, as he did his mother.

  James approved of her fiancé, even though the pair of them were rather wayward, likely to just fly through life on a soft breeze and see where it took them. James had insisted on paying for most of the wedding. Sophie didn't need to accept as her fiancé was a millionaire in his own right, but she knew how much it meant to James to be able to provide this for his sister given their father was totally out of their lives. He had left under an extremely black cloud a few years previously. His mother placed the plate of food in front of him and wondered off to her room leaving James alone with his thoughts.

  Just as James was finishing his dinner, his bodyguard entered, looking rather pensive.

  "Evening. Is everything alright?"

  "Um, yep. Oh, your secretary said that Enquirer has been on the phone again, asking about the interview for their magazine."

  "They don't take no for an answer, do they? Perhaps I should just agree to it. At least it would get them off my back." While he accepted the media's focus on his business aff
airs, he liked to keep his private life just that.

  "I'll have to protect you from even more female attention if you agree to it. I'm not sure how I'll cope." Matthew chuckled as he sat down with his food.

  After a short silence James asked, "So, did you follow her?"

  Matthew nodded.

  "Is it safe?" he asked.

  This time, he shook his head and frowned.

  James dropped his knife and fork to clatter on his plate as his heart missed a beat.

  "It's a gentlemen's club. Run by her uncle, a Mister Stephen Jones."

  Matthew also put his cutlery down.

  "What does she do there? Waitressing? Bar-work?"

  "No boss, She's a dancer. An erotic pole dancer. But from what I've been able to establish, that's all she does." He took a deep a breath and continued. "Her uncle though...." Matthew reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and handed James his phone with a video on it. James pressed play and clenched his jaw.

  "Is she is there now?" he asked.

  "Yes, boss."

  "Give me ten minutes." How could she be so stupid? Or was he the stupid one? Did she know who he was? Was she playing him? "Matthew, we are going in hard. Make preparations."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Amy

  When it was Amy's time to dance, Mrs Barton, the stage manager, called at her door.

  "There is a full crowd out there tonight. Make sure you dance well, Amy. Could get a few decent tips." The middle-aged woman peered behind the curtain. "If you would remove a bit more clothing you would earn a fortune."

  "My act is more about the illusion of sexuality, Mrs Barton. It works better with my clothes on."

  "Well suit your bloody self. More money for the other girls, then."

  "As long as I have enough at the end of the week to cover my living costs, I'm happy."

  The first half of Amy's set went well, although during it she felt strange. Like all the hairs on her body were standing on end and a heat flooded through her body. She put the feeling to the back of her mind, tucked her tips into the bra part of her corset, and headed to the bar to get some water and take her short break.

  The club was heaving. It was a Friday night and the city traders were celebrating the end of the week. One of them, looking totally inebriated, staggered into her slurring as he spoke. "Care to give me a private dance, darling?"

  "I never kiss on a first meeting," she said. "Now, how about you go find your friends."

  He groaned and staggered backward, struggling to stand up properly, as a security guard approached and then escorted him unceremoniously away. She looked over to where she knew her uncle would be sitting. She smiled cheekily at him, as if to say she had matters completely under control, and he winked back.

  When she finally made it to the bar, the barman presented her a glass of water with ice and a squeeze of lemon. He knew what she liked.

  "Thank you, Pierre." she said, blowing him a playful kiss, and he dramatically bowed.

  "You are welcome Miss Amy. How was the holiday?"

  "Hot, wet, and relaxing."

  "Sounds like a typical day in here without the relaxing bit." The barman chuckled and Amy joined in.

  "You ever wanted something more than this, Pierre?"

  "What, like waiting in a high class joint?"

  "No, a different job. Do you have a dream?"

  "Nobody can make as good a Manhattan as me."

  "You are right there. Save me one for later."

  "You are not paid to talk and flirt, Pierre. I believe you have people waiting for drinks." Pierre instantly turned and served another patron.

  Amy turned toward the voice. "Hello Leon."

  "Aren't you supposed to be working as well?"

  "I'm on my break."

  Leon was one her of uncle's 'henchmen'. He was also a total slimeball.

  "I think your break is about to finish. Unless you want to come and share some of it with me. I know a room that is free. You can show me how much you missed me."

  "Well, that won't take long. I didn't think of you once while I was away."

  "One day, you will beg for me to stick my cock in your tight little cunt."

  Amy stepped off her stool and headed back to the stage. "In your dreams, Leon."

  James

  As they entered the club, James and Matthew showed their I.D. The bouncers and girls on the door were experienced in recognising wealthy clients, and they were both quickly offered a private booth. A bottle of Dom Perignon was shortly brought to the table by a scantily-clad brunette, who was followed by a smartly-dressed man who introduced himself as a senior member of the management team and requested they ask for any services they may require.

  James looked around trying to locate Amy. It took him a few moments and a double take before he realised that the girl dancing on the back stage was her.

  God she looked sexy. The seductive, swaying movements of her curves were intensely erotic; if he touched himself, he would have exploded in an instant.

  "You better drink this, boss." Matthew said handing James his glass from the table.

  James drained it.

  James was impressed as he saw Amy deal with a drunk, closely observing as a bouncer then escorted him away. James followed Amy's gaze as she smiled at a man who was clearly her uncle and the owner of the establishment. She seemed to think her uncle had sent the bouncer over. In fact, he was paying no attention to the fact that she could have been molested in the middle of the club.

  "Have them bring the uncle over," James said to Matthew.

  Amy's uncle didn't take long to arrive at the table. He was greying at the temples, had a slightly portly figure, and his features were harsh. James saw nothing of Amy's warmth or kindness in his eyes. To be polite, James got to his feet and reluctantly held out his hand.

  "Mr North. It is a great pleasure to welcome you to my club. Please, anything we can do to make your visit more pleasant, don’t hesitate to ask. "

  "Thank you Mr Jones. The blonde with the wavy hair who was dancing earlier." He pointed to the second stage. "I'd like to meet her, privately." James reached for a neatly bound collection of fifty pound notes and placed them on the table. "And I am willing to pay ten grand for the privilege."

  Amy

  Amy went to the other stage to check everything was in order for her second act. A fifteen-minute gap gave her no time to relax. She would be exhausted when she got home.

  At the curtain, waiting to commence her second set, Mrs Barton reappeared.

  "Change of plan, Amy. Your uncle wants you."

  "What is it?"

  "He wouldn't tell me. He says he will tell you himself."

  Amy sighed, and rushed over to her uncle.

  "Mrs Barton said you wanted me?"

  "Amy, with Sara off tonight, I need a favour from you. We have an important guest asking for a private dance, and all the other girls are busy."

  "But what about the stage? There will be no one on it?"

  "Mrs Barton is going to shift some of the curtains around, and Jenny will dance for both crowds."

  "So why can't I dance for both crowds and Jenny do the private dance? uncle, please. You know that I don't like the private dances. Don't make me do it."

  "Don't argue about this, Amy" her uncle replied sternly. "Just do as you are asked. The club is full tonight, and I have a lot to do."

  Amy looked down forlornly, reached out, and tenderly touched his hand. She was so ungrateful sometimes. He was trying his hardest to look after her, and she was fighting him. What would one dance hurt?

  "I'm sorry uncle Stephen. Of course I will do it. Which room do I need to go to?"

  "Number One" he replied, looking slightly calmer.

  Amy quickly went back to her dressing room and freshened up a little. A quick squirt of some perfume always seemed to heighten their senses and made the inevitable 'coming in their pants' happen quicker.

  The next thing she knew she was standing outside of t
he private room with the client waiting inside. She took a deep breath, checked her clothing was in place, and opened the door. The room was darker than normal, almost pitch black. With a little unease, she stepped forward and closed the door behind her. She couldn't hear anything. From the centre of the room came a deep breath, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh that sent shivers down her spine. As a single soft light turned on, she heard a voice she never thought she would hear again. "Hello, Amy."

  "James," Amy gasped.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Amy

  Amy trembled as James slowly stood. He had the same intensity that he had had before but this time, she sensed anger in him.

  "How did you find me?"

  He snapped back with a curl of his lip, "Chance" he said sarcastically. "This wasn't the sort of place I expected to find you in. I thought you were innocent. Shows what I know."

  "I didn't think I would see you again after you walked out." Amy replied. "Did you have to get back to your wife?" Who did he think he was?

  The man who had given her the best orgasm of her life was in her place of work and insinuating she was a whore. He would have obviously paid to get her alone in this room. What a bastard.

  She was furious that he thought he could just show up here after walking out on her the way he did with no explanation and expect her to submit to him the way she had then. She switched on her business manner. He was not going to control her this time.

  "If you would return to your seat Sir, I will begin the dance you have paid for. First, though, I would like to remind you that you are not to remove your hands from the side cushions during the dance, and you are certainly not to touch me at any point.

  James didn't stop advancing on her.

  "Sir, sit down."

  "No." Amy wasn’t scared -- there were cameras in the room and her uncle would be having them watched. If James didn't stop, she would only have to make a signal and a bouncer would be in to protect her. She composed herself with a deep breath.