by Emma York
“We can cancel the contract if he doesn’t provide a manuscript by the end of today but only if we have another book lined up to take its place.”
“Is he likely to have it with you by the end of today?”
“I doubt he’s written more than a few pages. The key part of the contract was what happens if we don’t have another book. He gets to keep the advance and gets a huge severance pay for us terminating the deal.”
“So you need another book. Have you got one?”
“Nothing good enough to be a blockbuster.”
“What’re going to do then?”
“Hopefully find something suitable at this conference. Even his lawyers won’t work weekends. I want to go in next week and wave a future bestseller in Marty’s face, show him he can’t walk all over us, send him back to Sandra and wish them a happy future together.”
“Want me to put the feelers out?”
“If you find a book before I do, I’ll buy you an island.”
“I’ve already got one.”
“Yeah but yours is full of monkeys.”
“I like monkeys. Look, you better be going if you’re going to win this bet.”
I glanced at the time. “I suppose so. See you next week sometime?”
“Be careful, Bill.”
“I promise. Fuck, then chuck but with a signed legally binding contract that says she won’t sue squeezed into the foreplay somewhere.”
He smiled but I knew he was right. I did need to be careful. As I drove away from the restaurant, I wondered if I might be better off not sleeping with her. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of women happy to climb into bed with me. I could find someone else at the conference to take back to my room, to keep me company.
But I knew I was lying to myself. I was going to take her to bed. I knew from the moment I helped her undress in Future Trends that I was going to fuck her. I had the case I needed in the back of my car to make it happen.
The only real question was how to handle things afterwards. What if, horror of horrors, she wanted some kind of relationship with me? That wasn’t who I was. I was used to the single life. I had seen what marriage had done to Ted. It wasn’t for me.
Some of them did want relationships, begging me to let them stay in my life. I had turned them all down. It would be fine. I’d just turn her down too.
So why did I keep thinking that it might not be such a bad thing after all? Keeping that sweet ass in my life, those pouting lips, those curving hips of hers that I wanted to run my hands over and…
I pulled off the road and stopped at the barrier dividing public from private. The guard nodded before I’d even shown my card. “Afternoon, Bill,” he said, pressing the button beside him.
The barrier rose and I drove through, crossing the tarmac towards the shed. The train was outside. I stopped the car in my spot and climbed out.
The propellers were just starting to move, the pilot running through the pre-flight checklist.
I had Ted to thank for the train. When I was little, I used to get the words for things mixed up. Not everything, just a few things. I used to call trains heli-cop-cops. I called heli-cop-cops trains.
Turning thirty had been a big milestone for us both. For Ted’s thirtieth, I’d given him a train track for his garden, a quarter of a mile in a figure of eight loop for him to play on when he needed to get away from the in-laws. He’d returned the favour when my birthday came around, buying me a helicopter. On the side, in Italic letters, he’d written, ‘The Train.’
It became an in joke after that. Whenever I was heading into the skies, I was, ‘catching the train.’
I was strapping myself in a couple of minutes later, the case safely stowed in the webbing under my seat. Lucy’s driver had rung me when he was waiting outside her house. I looked at my watch. She’d have been driving for about two and a half hours, she’d be more than halfway there. She probably thought there was no chance I could beat her to the hotel.
But she had traffic to contend with. I only had the occasional passing UFO. I’d be there long before her.
As we took off, I watched the ground falling away. With the ear defenders in place, I sank back into my thoughts. I needed to plan what I was going to do, make sure I didn’t scare her off.
I would get there first. She would come to the hotel room and find me waiting for her. I’d tell her she lost. She’d crumble. I got to punish her. Would I make her strip or do it to her? She would submit at once, whichever I chose.
Then I’d tie her to the bed, ass up, ready to be spanked. I had butt plugs to use, vibrators, all the things that would draw the real her out, the woman she really was. She could complain all she wanted but she’d soon change her tune when I brought her to the edge of orgasm. Then I’d fuck her. It would be glorious.
She would pay for hanging up my phone in the office, from trying to act all high and mighty. I’d have her begging for release, keep her on the brink of a climax for as long as I could, only letting her come when I was done with her. If she behaved, if she did as she was told, she would have a night she’d remember for the rest of her life.
The thought made me smile. Ted might have said be careful but there’d be plenty of time to think about that afterwards. I was too swept up in thoughts of what she might taste like to consider the consequences of what I was about to do. Whatever happened, I could handle it. I’d done it before and I’d do it again.
It took an hour and three quarters to get there, longer than I’d been planning but we were battling a strong headwind. Once the helicopter landed, I jumped straight into the car that would drive me the short distance to the hotel. Five minutes later, I was there, case in hand, checking in at the desk. “Snow Day Publishing,” I said. “I believe you have a room ready for the CEO.”
“Ah, yes, here we are. If you could just fill this out.”
I wrote quickly on the form, worried she might turn up before I had chance to get up there and get the case ready.
“You’re on the top floor, on the far left as requested, Sir. Would you like someone to take your bag up for you?”
“No, don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Very good, Sir. Enjoy your stay.”
I took the key for the room from her and then headed to the lift. I stepped out on the top floor and made my way past the wilting pot plant to the last door at the end of the corridor.
Inside was a room that looked perfect for my purposes. I’d specifically ordered the end room on the top floor, hoping it would mean fewer noise complaints. She would be making a lot of noise this evening, not that she knew it yet.
I put my case down in the corner of the room. No need for it for a little while. Then I looked around.
The bed was a decent size. The view from the window showing the Valley Gardens in the distance, a Victorian boating lake twinkling in the sunshine, people walking back and forth, tourists, pensioners, dog walkers.
I pushed open the door to the bathroom. It would do fine. I might even put her in the shower after I was done with her, clean her up after getting her as dirty as I could.
I sat down on the armchair near the window. It was going to be glorious. I would strip her, I decided. That would be better. I would see that body of hers reveal itself to my eager eyes, this time without anyone to interrupt us. I would tie her to that bed and the dull ache in my cock would finally be satisfied. What sort of sounds would she make? How would she react to me spanking her? Those were the questions I loved to ask, knowing the answers would be with me soon.
My phone went off in my pocket, distracting me from my thoughts. I dug it out and looked at the message I’d received. It was from Malcolm.
I’ve had Marty on the phone, wants to know when he should receive the severance pay for you breaching the terms of the contract.
I rang Malcolm, it was quicker than typing back. “Tell him we’ve another book lined up so he won’t be getting a penny. No, better yet, ask him when he plans on repaying his advance.”<
br />
Another book. That was what I was doing here. I was at the conference to find an amazing author who had somehow been ignored or rejected unjustly. It was possible. J.K Rowling had submitted to more than twenty publishers before getting her empire moving.
I tried not to think about the money we’d lose if I couldn’t find a book that would be a smash hit. Marty and Sandra would take us to the cleaners, I’d have to lay off a load of staff, we wouldn’t be able to invest in ebooks. It would probably be the beginning of the end for Snow Day Publishing.
Find a book and fuck Lucy Rhodes, all in one weekend. That was why I was in charge. If it was one thing I could do, it was multitask.
NINE
LUCY
We got stuck on the outskirts of Harrogate for ages, the ring road grinding to a halt. The first of the evening traffic was combining with people like me trying to get into the city centre. For a long time, all I could see was hedges and glimpses of car showrooms and shopping centres through the other side.
Then after what felt like forever and with my bladder starting to feel like it might explode, we turned towards the town. Why did I have that coffee the driver offered me? Could I ask him to stop? No, that was ridiculous. The boss of a publishing division did not pee in the bushes in full view of rush hour traffic. I could hold it. I hoped.
We crawled along the road, passing a farm, then a sign for the showground. Finally houses appeared. We were getting close.
But the closer we got, the slower we moved. I started shuffling in the seat. It was amazing how basic we were. Comfortable, I was a high powered mega-bitch executive in a chauffeur driven car on the way to a publishing convention. Needing a pee, I was little more than a panicking child, wriggling in my seat and hoping the driver didn’t notice.
It was the same when I thought about Bill. I went from mature, dignified, respectable, to lust filled adolescent, incapable of stringing sentences together that made any sense. Take control, Lucy, you’re an adult for crying out loud.
“Turn in there,” I said, pointing at the sign for a supermarket on the left.
The driver changed lanes just as the red light in front of us turned green. We swung into the supermarket car park and he brought us to a halt. “Won’t be a minute,” I said, not telling him why I was marching as fast as I could for the entrance.
I had to ask where the ladies was and by the time I made it inside, I could have sworn I hadn’t taken a breath for over a minute.
I breathed out once I was in the cubicle, a long, slow sigh that released all the tension that had been gripping me too tightly for too long.
Once I was done, I headed to the book aisle, wanting an excuse for an impromptu stop. There was another woman standing there and she nodded towards me. "Going to the conference?" she asked.
"How did you guess?"
"Business suit, armful of paperbacks. You're checking out the competition."
"Yeah, well, maybe I'll see you there."
"Maybe you will."
A couple of minutes later, I was back in the car, bag of paperbacks next to me. “Wanted to check out the competition,” I said by way of an excuse. “Off we go.”
We set off again and I tried my best to relax, even as the time continued to tick by. It was nearly five when we reached the hotel. I left the driver finding somewhere to park and headed inside.
The spacious reception was impressive, easily coping with the number of guests milling around. There were several armchairs in the open space, low tables between them. I found reception to my left. There was a queue and I joined the back, standing behind a happy couple who were holding hands and beaming at each other. Would I ever have that? Have someone look at me the way he was looking at her? But then she looked like she’d never had a spot in her life, her hair had to be CGI, it couldn’t be real. No woman had hair that perfect. And that waist, I could have put a wrist watch around it.
“Mr and Mrs Cameron,” he said when they reached the front. Honeymoon. It had to be.
I wanted to be happy for them. I really did. But I couldn’t help a flare of jealousy. Younger than me, more attractive than me, already married. What did I have? A crush on an employee. It wasn’t quite the romantic ideal.
While they were filling in some form or other, I glanced around me. To the left of reception was a sign on an easel. It was one of those black pinboard things with the letters spelled out in white, not quite straight. I was so annoyed by the rakish angles of the words that I didn’t take in what it said for a moment. Then I realised.
Formal dance for Publishing Convention. Eight thirty until late. Passes must be shown. Herriot Suite.
A formal dance? That wasn’t on the itinerary Ellie gave me. I dug it out of my file, running my eyes down the page. No mention of a dance. I hadn’t brought dancing clothes. Great.
The first chance to make a big impression, to use my little known dancing talent to woo potential clients and distributors and I was going to have to miss it. My Kingdom for a dress that I could dance in.
When I reached reception, I asked if I could use their phone. “Of course,” the man behind the counter said, sliding it across to me.
Ellie’s number was at the top of the itinerary. I rang it and waited until she answered.
“Hello?”
“Ellie, it’s me.”
“Miss Rhodes. Did you make it there okay?”
“You never told me there was a dance tonight.”
“Didn’t I? I’m sure it’s on the itinerary.”
“It’s not. I’ve looked.”
“No, it is. On the back page.”
I turned the paper over. “Oh.”
“Did you find it?”
“Yes, thank you, Ellie.”
I hung up, swearing quietly under my breath. What would mega-bitch do? The answer came to me in a second. I had an assistant. His job was to assist. I would delegate the problem to him, let him work out a solution and assert my authority at the same time in one swift phone call.
I rang his number and when he answered I spoke before he had chance. My turn to take charge. Not because if I heard his voice, mega-bitch would melt away in a simmering pile of lust, not for that reason at all.
“There’s a formal dance at half past eight tonight and I need a dress to wear for it. What do you suggest?”
“I’ll get you one.”
His voice. His warm honey over gravel voice. If that was even a thing. However I described it, the result was the same, I was already melting. How did he do it? “You will?”
“Leave it with me.”
“But you don’t know what size I am.”
“Remember Future Trends? Relax and I’ll see you here.”
It didn’t occur to me to wonder why he said see you here until I got up to the room a couple of minutes later. Then I thought back to the words he’d said.
See you here. Not see you there. He wouldn’t say that unless he was already at the hotel. And he couldn’t be at the hotel already. I’d set off hours before him. He’d have been stuck in the same traffic as me. Even his macho rule the world demeanour couldn’t shift the rush hour from his path.
But there was a case in the bedroom, sitting next to the armchair. There could only be one reason for there being a case there next to his black jacket, the jacket I remembered from the park. I had no idea how he’d done it but somehow he’d got to the hotel first.
That meant I lost the bet. That meant he got to punish me. That meant I would have to stay somewhere else and he could enjoy the luxury of this place while I was on a lumpy mattress next to a glass bottle smashing and scream testing facility built over a cursed Native American burial ground.
I sat on the edge of the bed. It was so comfortable. I didn’t want to move hotels. I was tired after the drive. What I wanted to do was shower, change into pyjamas and climb into those blankets and never get out of them.
Something about a comfy bed just made me want to hibernate, bundle myself up, eat chocolates and watch
Netflix and not leave until the spring.
As I sat there, I ran my hand along the blanket. He would be sleeping in here tonight. Would he sleep naked? The thought sent a spark through my mind and I tried to ignore it as it smouldered and started to take.
I should go downstairs and take them up on the offer of getting a room somewhere else. Or ring Bill and tell him I was his boss and I was taking the room, the bet was off.
I couldn't do that.
It was a stupid bet but somehow I felt bound by it. I couldn’t throw him out of here. He’d won. I had to accept that.
I didn’t have to go yet though. I could at least enjoy it until he got back with a dress for me.
I left my case next to his and then kicked off my shoes. I slid up to the headboard with the file next to me. Digging out the remaining papers, I started to work my way through them, not noticing my feet slowly burrowing their way under the covers until only my head and arms remained outside.
The projections on the page made for such fascinating reading they started to dull my mind into a stupor. The afternoon sun was shining through the window, heating the space around me. The combination of pie charts and soft warmth made my eyes sag and before I knew it, I was asleep.
I didn’t know I was asleep. I was still reading the papers but when there was a knock on the door and I looked up, the room was different. There were candles lit, it was dark outside. Had the day gone?
The door opened and Bill was there, wearing a charcoal grey suit, two glasses and a bottle of champagne on a tray in his arms. “Mrs Cameron,” he said, kicking the door closed behind him.
“Mr Cameron,” I replied.
If I’d made the dream us take the names of the couple in the queue at reception, I didn’t notice. I just felt a warm glow at being his wife. There was another warmth inside me too, a warmth of a very different kind.
I didn’t know it at the time but my dream was mixing with Anna’s book. The plotline, the dominant hero, the submissive heroine, they became my dream. Bill was putting down the tray and picking up a pair of handcuffs and I wasn’t scared, I was excited, I was ready, I knew what he had planned for me.
