by M. S. Parker
“Ah…call me Aleena, please?” I gave him my best smile as I thought it through. I hadn’t realized there was more than one bedroom. “Use the master bedroom, please.” Why not, I figured. I was the only one staying here, right?
“Of course.” He disappeared down the hall to the right and I made a mental note. When he returned, he asked, “Will there be anything else you need from me? Mr. Snow said to let you know there are some nice shops nearby if you’d like to go shopping.”
Shopping…I made a face and although I could have been imagining it, I thought I saw Maxwell hide a smile. “I’m tired of shopping, Max.” I paused and then asked, “Do you mind if I call you Max?”
“No.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “My wife used to call me Max.”
“You’re married?”
Now the smile on his lips took on a sad slant. “I was, yes. She died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Looking away, I brushed my hair back. “I think I’ll get familiar with the property, meet the staff inside the house before I worry about the shops in town.”
After Maxwell had left, I wandered the guesthouse.
It was nearly as big as the entire penthouse. I had never imagined I’d fall into anything like this. It wasn’t mine and I knew this. It was mine for now, though. And I still couldn’t figure out how I’d lucked into this. That was what it felt like—I’d lucked into this.
The guesthouse had a living room with a deluxe flat screen TV and long, low sofas that were more comfortable than anything I’d ever known.
There was a separate dining area that was far too formal. One look into the kitchen told me that I’d be spending most of my time eating in there. The kitchen made me want to jump around and clap my hands. And somebody had stocked it. I couldn’t help but smile when I peeked into cabinets and the fridge. I had a feeling whoever the somebody was had a direct line straight to Fawna. Somehow, the things I tended to eat were already on hand,
My exploration revealed a linen closet, a laundry room and then a spare bedroom—it was lavish and luxurious, but I knew it was the spare bedroom because it was down the left hallway.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought it was the master bedroom. With the dove gray walls and rich maroon accents, it was almost too beautiful to be real.
But then I found the master bedroom.
It looked like springtime.
Pale green walls, the carpet a sea of blue. Both colors twined in the bed set. When I stroked my hand down it, I was almost certain that it was real silk. Upon closer inspection, I saw that walls weren’t simply green, but hand-painted.
Tiny little swirls of green on green.
The king-sized bed looked like living trees rising up out of the carpet, spiraling up, the branches as perfect as if they truly were tree trunks.
Oh, yeah.
I was sleeping in the master bedroom. If I had my way, I’d never leave here.
Moving deeper into the bedroom, I found myself touching everything. There was no obvious place to store my clothing so I went to open one of the paneled doors and when it swung open, I stepped back, gasping in surprise at the TV there. It was almost as big as the TV out in the living room and one of those curved screens I’d seen advertised recently.
Wow.
I didn’t think anything could top that bedroom, but then I slid open the final set of louvered doors and this time, I couldn’t stop myself from gaping.
The bathroom was indescribable. Pillars surrounded the sunken Jacuzzi tub. On the far side of the bathroom, there were as a glass-in shower big enough for a party of five.
The toilet was enclosed and set apart from the rest of the room and to my delight, there was a padded vanity with a lighted mirror.
I felt like a frickin’ princess.
Maybe the castle wasn’t mine, but I still felt like a princess.
I had keys to the main house.
With those clutched in my hand, I made my way up to what I was now calling the real castle—at least in my head.
But I didn’t have a chance to use them. I’d followed the path that led from my guesthouse up to the main house and by the time I got there, the door opened.
“You must be Aleena!”
I found myself face to face with a beaming woman who would have been about my mother’s age, if she hadn’t died when I was so young.
“Ah…hi.” I smiled at her, and recalled a name from the list of employees. “Janice?”
I don’t know how it was possible, but the smile on her face widened. “That would be me.” She swung a coat around her shoulders as she stepped aside. “I’m on my way into town—a bit of shopping to get done. Is there anything I can get for you?”
“No.” I managed a smile. “I’m good. I noticed that someone had stocked the kitchen at the guesthouse…was that you?”
“It was. Did I miss anything?”
“No.” I shook my head and glanced around the kitchen. “I was going to take a look around. Should I wait?”
“Of course not.” She patted at her pockets. “Use those keys. I’ll be back in a few hours, as will the others. You can meet them all then, but you can take a look around, familiarize yourself with everything. Mr. Snow is in his quarters. He’s got a guest with him.” She hesitated and then added, “Just so you know.”
“Okay.” There was something in her voice, something in the way she watched me. I gave her a nod, uncertain what she was trying to relay.
She seemed satisfied with my response, though and turned. “I assume Fawna provided you with all my information, just in case?”
“Yes.” I had an entire category now, on my phone—a new one, courtesy of Dominic—that was full of nothing but contacts for Dominic’s Hampton House. Another that was for The Main House, and another for The Penthouse. One that was The Winter Corporation, one for Family and one for Friends…all in all, I had hundreds of contacts programed into my phone and only five of them were friends of mine.
A few minutes later, she was out the door and I was left alone. The first thing I did was pull up the map of the Hampton house that Fawna had provided me with.
I scanned it, oriented myself and gave strict mental instructions to stay away from the section I knew to be Dominic’s quarters. His quarters, so to speak, took up most of the west wing.
That left the east wing and the main part of the house for me to explore.
It took me nearly half an hour just to cover the first floor. There was a small indoor pool and I peeked into the garage and saw that I’d been right—there were seven cars inside and it could easily hold five more. The sun was starting to set, throwing shadows across the stairs as I walked up them.
I finished my self-guided tour. I cast the west wing another curious glance, but I had absolutely no desire to go anywhere if I might run into Dominic and a guest. That guest was female.
Dominic had made it clear he wanted his privacy and I’d give him that.
I’d also save myself the jealousy—
Yeah, girl. You’re really doing that, I thought sourly as a twinge of it dug its way into my heart and twisted deep.
Something cracked.
I jerked to a stop at the sound and whipped my head around.
It came again, followed by a low, rough noise.
What was—?
It came again and I found myself following the noise. I don’t know if it was foolishness or concern. Then I heard it again.
In high school—those hated, hated years—I’d found myself ostracized even more when I came across the football captain in the middle of a fight with his girlfriend. He’d backhanded her, slapping her across the face and the sound was one I’d never forget.
That sound was a lot like the one echoing through the halls now.
Maybe it was fury that drove me, just as it had then. I’d lunged between them and swung my Calculus textbook at the big, arrogant jock, catching him off-guard. When he’d gone to hit me, I’d swun
g again and then kicked him in the knee, the way my dad had taught me.
He’d gone down and when he fell, he broke his arm. Goodbye, regional championships.
I found myself reliving that moment as I raced around the corner and there, I froze. Because now I could hear the other sound. A moan. A low, rough moan and it brought a rush of heat to my cheeks.
Turn around, I told myself. You said you’d respect his privacy.
I almost did stop.
But I heard that harsh, heavy sound again, followed by another long, deep moan.
I had to look.
If there was somebody being hurt, I’d never be able to live with myself.
Carefully, I edged down the hallway, reaching into my pocket to pull out my cellphone. Automatically, I silenced the ringer. I peered inside the door. It was mostly shut, but not enough.
Day-yum.
Dominic was naked. Golden tanned skin covered every glorious inch of him, muscles rippling as he moved. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and from my angle, I had the perfect view of his perfect ass.
Seriously, it was like a work of art, firm and muscled and round.
I stood there, my mouth hanging open, he shifted position slightly and I watched as he brought one hand up, wrapped it around his cock and gave it a slow, thorough stroking.
He shifted again and my gaze landed on his back.
Eyes widening, I saw something I hadn’t seen before. Granted, I’d been a little preoccupied and a lot thrown off-balance, but he had scars. Scars the like I had never seen before. Not that I have a lot of experience, but my brain didn’t know how to process what I was looking at.
Thwack.
I jumped at the sound and shifted my gaze.
He wasn’t alone and he wasn’t the one moaning.
There was a naked woman in there with him…and she was tied up, her arms bound overhead to the bedpost. To the rings—oh my god, my mind flashed back to the bed back at the penthouse. To the rings. Fuck. Dominic—he was—okay, he was…
Shit.
Her arms were stretched high, her wrists tied with strips of cloth, attached to the tall wooden bedpost at the base of the bed, facing away from me. And as I watched, Dominic brought his hand down on her ass again. Which would explain why it was a startling shade of pink.
She made a low, husky noise.
I had to bite my lower lip to keep from doing the same. A hard, heavy throb echoed down deep inside and, to my horror, my clit began to pulse. He spanked her again, and my clit pulsed as though I was the one standing there, and not over here, an uninvited guest to their little party.
I pressed my hand against my chest, surprised to feel how hard my heart was beating against my ribs. Leave, I told myself as Dominic bent over and grabbed something. A moment later, I saw that it was a condom.
He was getting ready to…oh. No. I needed to leave. I can’t watch them…
You’re already watching it, a gleeful little voice thought. If you can watch it, have the guts to think it. You’re watching them fuck.
I watched, mesmerized, as Dominic rolled a condom over his cock. I knew I shouldn’t have stayed, but I couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t just Dominic, though. It was the sheer, unadulterated hunger and the way everything about her seemed to beg for more. For his touch, for his body, for the hard blow of his hand on her ass.
Spanking was something I’d always associated with children and punishment. A firm crack on the behind for something done wrong. Absolutely nothing sexual or sensual about it. I’d never understood the people who’d used it that way.
Now, though…
“Do you want me to stop?” Dominic’s voice was low, but not out of control. “You know what you have to say.”
I swallowed hard.
“Speak, Maya, or I’m going to get my belt and you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
I shivered, and reflexively, I found myself clenching my buttocks, just as this unknown woman, Maya, was. Need twisted low inside me.
“Fuck me.” On the other side of the door, Maya gasped. “Damn it! Fuck me!”
“That’s not what I want. Say what I want to hear.” Dominic wrapped her ponytail around his hand and yanked her head back. “This is the last time I’m going to ask.”
I wasn’t sure which I wanted more: to see what would happen if she didn’t say it, or see what happened if she did.
“Please, sir.”
My nails dug into my palm and the wetness between my thighs gathered. I’d never be able to look at him and call him sir without remember this again. Never.
“Please, fuck me.”
The last word turned into a wail as Dominic slammed into her with one thrust. I bit my bottom lip, wondering what it must feel like, being empty one moment and full the next. I wondered if it hurt. He was so big. The one guy I’d had sex with hadn’t even been close to that size, and it had hurt. But Maya didn’t sound like she was in pain.
In fact, as she threw back of her head and screamed, I was pretty damn certain she was enjoying herself. And it made me look back on the one pitiful sexual encounter I’d had with even more dismay.
Okay, so I’d been a kid and it hadn’t been much fun, but now I really felt cheated.
3
Dominic
Trouver L’Amour would open to clients on Valentine’s Day with a lavish masquerade ball.
Planning it with Fawna over the past few months had been more fun—and more intense and stressful—than I could imagine. You want to have a Valentine bash in New York City? Start planning it a few years in advance. Also, stock up on aspirin and alcohol.
Fawna was still nonplussed when it came to my…less than mainstream sex life, but we had a similar view when it came to anything resembling a romantic relationship. They were fine for other people, but not for us. We didn’t need a significant other to make ourselves feel better or special. We didn’t have the time or the patience for building trust and pretending to care about what other people thought or felt. We certainly had no time for mending the hurt feelings that would inevitably come with any sort of romantic relationship.
Our only real relationship was with each other. There were a few other casual friends, but the truth was, I was closer to my personal assistant than anybody else in life.
Now how fucked up is that?
We knew each other’s thoughts and moods. There was no pretense between us. When you see people at their worst, it had the tendency to either completely destroy a friendship or solidify it.
Fawna and I had seen each other at our worst—and I loved her as much as I was capable of loving somebody. There was nothing romantic to it. She was, plain and simply put, my closest friend in the world.
And she was leaving.
I understood. There was no doubt about that, but I’d miss her.
After this party, she was going to quietly withdraw. The two of us had both been surprised with how easily Aleena had taken to the job Fawna had turned over to her.
The slow burning attraction I felt for my new PA was still there—and it was no longer quite so slow burning, but it wasn’t happening. Down that way lay trouble—and possibly lawsuits.
The past three weeks hadn’t come and gone without pitfalls—especially the first few days after the trip to the Hamptons. Aleena had been stiff and awkward, hardly looking at me with direct eye contact and I wondered if, perhaps, Maya had said something to her, but once we got back to the city, she’d slowly relaxed.
She had more steel to her than I’d expected. It drove me crazy even as it drew me to her.
I was still aggravated about the shopping thing.
I’d dragged it out of Fawna. She’d gone shopping at consignment stores—consignment stores. I’d given her a damned credit card and she could have gone anywhere, but she’d preferred to stick with the clothing she’d already picked up. Fawna had talked her into buying a few more pieces, but it had been very few.
The only high-end purchases had b
een Fawna’s doing, several cocktail gowns that Fawna had rightly insisted Aleena would need.
Now, caught up in a debate with Aleena, Fawna and one Mrs. Irene Dudeck—the party planner Fawna had insisted we hire—I tried not to let myself get distracted by Aleena.
It was hard—no, almost impossible.
The one blessing in disguise was the one I hadn’t wanted, Irene Dudeck.
Irene was good at what she did, but she was also on the hunt for husband number three. I didn’t mind that nearly fifteen years separated us. I minded that she watched me with avid dollar signs in her eyes.
But just then, she was focused on the party and the dollars it would bring. Her overly high laugh kept interrupting my daydreams. Daydreams that had to do with me seeing Aleena stretched out over my bed, her warm skin gleaming soft against my sheets, then blushing to rose after I brought my hand down on that ripe, firm ass.
“Candlelight,” Aleena suggested. “Candlelight, a few roses at the table and some mirrors. Keep it subtle, keep it simple. If this is a masquerade ball, people are going to want to keep the focus on them anyway—and you want them thinking about Trouver L’Amour.”
Candlelight…I could get behind that idea.
“Nonsense,” Irene said, sniffing. “That’s clichéd. We want something with a little more mystery. Silk wall hangings.” She tapped her lips and her face lit up with a smile. “Champagne silk! I know just the thing!”
“No.” I straightened up and shot Irene a look. “We’re running out of time. I think simple is the best idea.”
“Why…” Irene drew herself up and stared at me. “Mr. Snow, I assure you that I can handle this. My staff and I—”
“Are very good at what you do, but you won’t be able to see the vision I have inside my head. I want simple elegance.” I gave her a smile and reached out, brushing my fingers across the back of her hand. “You have to admit, Irene. Nothing beats the flicker of candlelight across a woman’s skin for sheer elegance. As for mystery…a woman, in and of herself, is all the mystery we’ll need.”
As Irene smiled and leaned my way, I saw Aleena share a quick glance with Fawna. Their expressions were poised and perfectly professional. Yet, I had the feeling they were both smirking at me.
