I heard our bedroom door open and close down the hall.
On the other hand, I married her knowing I was a bastard. I knew there was a chance I'd hurt her because my original use for her was selfish. I'd never set out to make her unhappy, but her happiness had never been my absolute aim either.
I couldn't understand, for the life of me, why she was unhappy, though. Her life was no longer hard. She never wanted for anything. She never had to work. She just had to play house and smile at public appearances. All she had to do was stand by my side.
At this point, I only had months left to win over the voters.
All that mattered to me was getting ahead, becoming more than I was yesterday. If I had to cause her a slight bit of discomfort by stepping on her freedom, then so be it. She'd just have to deal with the choice she'd made to marry me. She'd have to learn to be a politician's trophy wife. If that meant she'd be a little uncomfortable during the meeting with Stratford the next day, it'd be too bad for her.
I'd put her through worse, after all, and she'd come out of that. She could handle a lunch with someone who could win me votes, and probably the county seat.
I began clearing my desk of clutter, my thoughts turning to my future goals. After I obtained the county executive position, I could run for Mayor or even the Senate.
'Senator Duncan'. That had a nice ring to it.
And Emily would be there, too, a senator's wife, perfect, poised, and following all of my commands.
Lately we hadn't had much time alone, let alone sex. I hated to admit it, but our sessions were becoming boring. I should have felt bad about reducing her to a fixture in my life. I'd promised her more than that, but I hadn't been able to deliver.
The truth I'd come to realize was that I didn't love her—at least not in the way that most married people loved each other. I'd been told once that love was this immense, acute emotion that changed one's life, but Emily coming into my life hadn't changed me.
I wondered if Emily knew what love was, whether what she felt for me was true, or whether it was just another naïve illusion she believed in.
I'd never had a use for the type of relationship most people vied for. It was such a foreign idea to me that there were people in this world who required other people. I never had, not even when it came to Emily. She was fine to have around, and she was sweet as well as supportive, but her presence hadn't added much to my existence.
My phone vibrated and I took it from my pocket to check it.
This bitch, on the other hand, I thought, scowling at my phone screen.
John my phone screen read. I had half a mind not to answer it, but I picked up.
“I told you never to call me before ten ‘o’clock,” I said without greeting Julia.
“It's ten-thirty,” she said cattily.
I glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall. “The time must have gotten away from me,” I said. “What do you want?”
“I found a new place. I thought you might want to go there. It caters to people with our tastes,” her deep velvety voice echoed in the earpiece.
“Our tastes? Is it another BDSM club? You know I don't like those. Half of those people aren't lifestyle Doms and subs.”
“It's more of a trading club.”
“Trading? You mean swingers?” My lip curled in disdain. “Those places aren't really my thing either.”
“Can we try it, please … Master?” The addition of the honorific term stirred my blood.
“Do you think of nothing else except getting used?” I sneered. “Fine. Maybe I'll lend you out to a few dozen men.”
“Th—thank you, Master,” she whimpered. “If that would give you pleasure.”
“It always gives me pleasure to see you treated like the slut you are,” I said with more ire than she perhaps deserved. She really did sicken me. She was exclusively my slave, but I could never quite satisfy her cock-lust. Our sessions had been few since I'd gotten married. The campaign had weighed heavily down on me and I wasn't gaining enough ground with voters in the polls to be able to relax.
Being that there was an undeniable chasm between Emily and I, the idea of being entertained sexually was too good to pass up. It'd been weeks since I'd even had time to relieve myself. I was itching to use somebody again, and my fantasies went far beyond the idea of watching Julia get fucked by a half-dozen strangers.
No … I needed to feel fresh meat under my hands. I wanted to dominate a hot new conquest, one who would bite back, one who would earn her punishments, one who might shed a few tears from the pain I gave her. I wanted to experience the same high I'd once felt with Emily, or at least something close to it. There were things I'd dreamed of doing to Emily that she would never have enjoyed. Julia wouldn't be able to provide the freshness I wanted.
It was plainly evident that I'd have to find someone new to satisfy my darker desires, and it seemed like this club was just the place to start looking.
(The Next Day)
Stratford had booked us a table at Delmonico's. I'd been there once or twice, and generally liked the food. I'd never taken Emily before, though we'd frequented many of the expensive eateries in New York.
When she walked into my office, she looked tired but primped to the extreme. She wore an amazing skirt-suit accented by black sheer stockings and black pumps. On her earlobes she'd donned a modest set of pearl earrings. On her finger was the four-carat cushion-cut diamond ring I'd bought her for our first anniversary.
The shade of lipstick she wore was just slightly pinker than nude, one that screamed innocence. In instances like this, she came off as an inexperienced, barely legal girl trying hard to appear adult, and for some reason, it never failed to arouse me. Her brunette hair was straight, falling down to the middle of her back. She'd had the stylist give her side-bangs. I couldn't resist touching the wispy strands that teased her long lashes.
Her cheeks blushed in response. That trusting, coy expression she gave me almost drove me over the edge of reason.
“It's too bad we have to go,” I said. “I'm very tempted to bend you over my desk.” Her gaze met mine and her eyelids drooped low as though she were intoxicated. I pressed my thumb down her cheek and grazed her bottom lip with my fingernail. Like a curious child tasting candy for the first time, she licked her tongue across my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “Jesus Christ, woman.” I cleared my throat. “I'll have to punish you later for being such a tempting minx.”
Her smile broke between her cheeks like sunshine through clouds on a rainy day. I was oddly happy to see it. I quickly dismissed it as a remnant of the intensity we used to share.
I remembered there were more important things to think about than ravaging my wife. No, today she had a more important use.
We had Dante drive us into the city. I was glad we'd left when we had. Any later and Stratford would have had to wait for us.
Dante dropped us off at the entrance and went to park the car. I held out my arm for Emily and she threaded hers with it.
Luckily, we'd arrived before Stratford. The host seated us and Emily glanced around the high-ceilinged room, taking in the splendor of one of New York City's oldest restaurants.
A waiter poured water into our goblets, recommended wines, and informed us of the chef's specialties.
“Thank you. We're waiting for someone,” I told him. He smiled and nodded. “I will be back in a few minutes to see if your guest has arrived.” With that, he was gone.
“All this sounds good,” Emily said, eyeballing the menu. “I'm so hungry. With all the running around I did, I wasn't able to eat. I had a granola bar in the car.”
“You've got to stay healthy, Emily,” I said, silently choosing what I would eat. “That means getting enough food and exercise.”
“I think the amount of exercise I get is fine. I'm actually a few pounds lighter than I was before I had Katherine,” she pointed out.
“Don't argue. Just do as I say,” I said dismissively.
; She didn't bring it up again, and if she had, there wouldn't have been time to talk about it. I saw Stratford's face floating behind a host. Though he wasn't fat, he was a man of considerable size. He was built like a linebacker, from his thick torso up to his wide shoulders. I shouldn't have been in the least bit intimidated by him, since I was a decade his junior, but I was—slightly. His face glowed when he saw me.
I stood to greet him and he immediately seized my hand in not one, but both, of his massive ones for a cordial shake. “Good afternoon, Mr. Duncan. I'm glad to meet you.”
“Hello, Mr. Stratford. I'm happy you could find time in your busy schedule for us today.”
Our interaction stopped when he saw Emily. He was obviously struck by her. This was what I'd counted on, that she could be an enticement, an ornament on my sleeve. She gave him a sweet smile.
“This must be your wife,” he said, holding out his hand palm-up. She gave him her hand, and when his fingers closed, everything below her wrist disappeared. He bent low and planted a kiss on her knuckles.
She blushed again. It irritated me that he'd gotten that response from her. I may not have loved her, but, damn it, she still belonged to me.
“Mr. Stratford, this is my wife, Emily.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Emily,” he said, not tearing his eyes from her.
That’s enough, Bigfoot, I thought.
“Shall we sit?” I asked, indicating the empty chair between Emily and me.
“Absolutely. I could murder one of these steaks. They have the best in the city. What are you having, Mrs. Duncan?” he asked.
“Uh. Me?” She looked back at the linen card-stock in her hand. “I think I'll have the Roasted Halibut.”
“You wouldn't prefer a steak? We are at a steakhouse, after all,” I said.
Her cheeks colored again. “I guess you're right.” She ran her finger down the menu. “I'll do the Filet Mignon, then.” She smiled.
“Good choice!” Stratford commented. “How do you take your meat?” he asked.
I detected a salacious note in the way he said meat. Emily's cheeks flushed a deeper red.
“Medium. Isn't that right, darling?” I interjected.
She nodded.
“I take mine medium-rare. I have an affinity for rare things.”
I knew he was talking about Emily. He wanted her. It took everything in me not to lunge across the table and choke him. I maintained my composure. He could make or break my campaign. Allowing him to ogle my wife was a small price to pay.
The waiter came back to the table. Stratford ordered a cognac, red wine, and the second largest steak they offered. Emily and I added ours to the waiter's pad and he was gone again.
Once his cognac arrived, Stratford was all business. He barely paid Emily any attention at all, a fact for which I was exceedingly glad. My sense of ownership had really been tested. I decided not to bring her to any of our meetings again. This time would be the last.
We talked a good deal about my strategies and the type of staff I had working in my city office. Emily stayed quiet, never interrupting us as we ate and talked.
I enjoyed my New York Strip Au Poivre. Stratford ate half his filet and downed several drinks by the time we were finished.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I have to go powder my nose,” Emily said, standing and excusing herself.
Both of us smiled at her before she left the table.
“Beautiful creature, that wife of yours,” Stratford said, sipping from his fifth cognac.
“She has many attractive qualities,” I said, giving my red wine a swirl in my glass.
“I don't suppose you could part with her for an afternoon, could you?” His eyes stayed fixed in the direction of the restroom into which she'd disappeared.
His question put me on edge. “Why? What for?”
“I'm sure my wife would love to meet her. She could give Emily a taste of what the life of a politician's wife offers.” He tapped his pinkie finger lightly on his snifter.
I literally shoved my tongue in my cheek. “Your wife … ” I said slowly. “I'm not sure.”
Stratford's eyes gleamed. “How about a bargain?” He tipped his head. “If you let me borrow your wife for an afternoon, I'll take on your campaign. How does that sound?”
I knew what he meant. I knew why he wanted her. The worst part was … I was considering it. My pride stung from the blow of his request. Could he sense just how badly I wanted to go into politics?
“If I were to consent to her … visiting you, how long would you have her?” I asked.
“Only a few hours. It doesn't take long to show a woman the intricacies of political life.” He grinned over the edge of his glass, his perfect pearly whites shining.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked.
“Come now, Jack, you've got to be a man of action. You've got to have enough faith in your decision-making abilities to make choices on the spot. How else can you expect to have power over others if you can't even master yourself?” He chuckled, turning back to check the bathroom entrance.
My anger threatened to erupt. He was challenging my control. Nobody ever did that. “I have faith in my abilities, sir, I can assure you.” I almost told him to fuck off, but … I knew if I said yes, I could have it all.
I knew I could do it, too. Because I didn't love Emily, I could lend her out. I could order her to go to him, to listen to him, and she would. She'd do anything for me. He'd have her for a day and, with him supporting me and guiding me, I knew I'd have everything I'd dreamed of.
“She'll be back soon. What's your answer?”
I dabbed the corner of my mouth. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Good! Then we see eye to eye.”
Emily came back to the table. “I'm sorry I was gone so long. There was a wait.” The silence between us was palpable, which was probably why she was cautious with her next question. “What did you boys talk about while I was gone?”
“Actually, we were talking about you, Emily,” Stratford said brazenly.
“Me?” she snickered nervously.
“I was thinking that you'd like to meet my wife, tomorrow. She'd love you. What do you say?”
“I—I guess … What do you think, Jack?”
“If you don't have anything else to do, I think you'd enjoy it.” I hated lying to her. It was filthy for me to give her away like that. Even though in the past few months I'd treated her like an object, at least I'd tried to be good to her. But things had changed. I was desperate to win—and Stratford knew it.
Damn this bastard, I thought.
“I'd be happy to meet your wife,” she said, a look of trusting naivety on her face.
“Good. I'll expect you around noon.” He looked pleased with himself.
My stomach was sick. I stifled a look of disgust as he paid our bill, insisting, despite my protests, that he would handle it.
His reason? He said he considered it an investment in the future.
(Emily)
Back in the car, I opened my clutch to take out a mint. “Well, that was interesting,” I said, shaking my head. “What a weird guy!”
“Yeah, weird,” Jack echoed. His eyes were fixed on the floor.
“Jack, what's wrong?” She rested a hand on my thigh. “Are you upset because he paid the bill?”
“No,” he snapped.
I withdrew my hand as if he'd tried to take a bite out of it. “Oh. Do you have to go to the campaign office today?”
He laid his head back against the seat. “Unfortunately.”
I scooted up beside him and wrapped an arm around his torso. “Maybe you can take today off. It wouldn't hurt to spend time with me and the baby just for one day,” I said.
His hand closed around mine. “One day can make all the difference!” he said angrily.
I tried to pull my hand free of his, but his fingers closed tighter. He sat up and squeezed his eyelids shut, a stuttered breath escaping him. “I'm sorr
y. I didn't mean to yell. I'm not mad at you.”
“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked. “Whatever it is, I'll do it.”
He tipped his head and our eyes met. “Come to my office tonight, after I get home. I need to talk to you.”
I smiled, trying to help his mood with what positivity I could spare. “Okay.”
(Hours Later)
He'd been gone all day, and, as usual, had come home late. By the time I heard the front door, I was pumped up. I'd gone and gotten waxed after he'd left for his campaign office. I was ready for the punishment he'd promised me earlier. The heat between us in his office had been so strong that I was sure he'd have made good on his word to fuck me right then and there.
Even though I'd been wrong about that, his request for me to meet him in his office had been encouraging.
Until I'd heard him go into his office, I didn't dare come out of the bedroom. After the telltale sliding noise of his office door, I crept down the hall and knocked.
“Come in,” he beckoned.
He looked ragged and exhausted as he sat at his desk. When he saw me, he didn't smile. This made me uneasy. He was always cocky and over-confident. My hopes of being loved by him that night suddenly plummeted.
“Did you have a good day?” I asked, hopefully.
“Emily, sit down and listen very carefully to what I have to say to you.”
Wow, he's drop-dead serious, I thought, a lump forming in my throat.
“What? What's wrong?” I asked, sitting down at the guest chair on the other side of his desk. He brooded in silence for a moment, rubbing his forehead with his palm. “Jack, I know I don't know much about what's going on, but you can tell me anything. I'll try to help you if I can. Did something happen with the campaign?”
“No. Nothing's changed with the campaign.” He stared off into the distance. “I have something to tell you about tomorrow.” He sat back in his chair. “It's hard to say.”
I wrung my hands. “What is it?”
“It's about your meeting with Stratford's wife. It's more than that. He wants … ”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wants what?”
Traded for Love Page 3
