“Just tell her that you don’t want her to move in.”
She shot me a you-gotta-be-kidding-me look. “Hey, it’s my mother we’re talking about here! To her, ‘please don’t move in with us’ means, ‘so when should we expect you?’ It’s a waste of time.”
I couldn’t help laughing at her misfortune. Good ol’ Magda. I was going to miss her and her wacky tales about her mother. “You really should write a book about this stuff, Magda. It’s hilarious. Trust me, it’ll be an instant bestseller.”
She looked up at me from the large box in front of her and flashed me one of her bright, dimpled smiles, but it didn’t seem to reach her pretty gray eyes. “Yeah, I should probably do that, but I wanted you to edit it and… well, now you won’t!” She burst into tearless sobs for the third time today.
My smile faded. Sadness surged as I thought of the people and the wonderful things I would be leaving behind. Bookends AtoZ was like a second home to me, and turning in my two weeks’ notice was one of the most difficult things I had ever had to do in my life. Some lucky dog would be occupying this desk soon, and would be welcomed to the Bookends family with open arms. Holding back tears, I crossed over to the window and looked out at the rainy town square.
Autumn had arrived. The leaves had changed color, the weather was crisp and the nights were longer. Fast winds stirred the multi-colored leaves and a thin drizzle spotted the windows, casting a gloom over the day that mirrored my current mood.
Ever since Seton signed with Bookends AtoZ, he had practically turned this place into his second home. He was always here, doing something or other, taking up space, forcing me to see him almost daily. We exchanged curt nods whenever we ran into each other in the hallway. Even though he had pretty much left me alone since we had that talk in front of the building weeks ago, it was nevertheless disconcerting to have to face him so often. So I had decided to quit Bookends and skip town. Was I running away from my feelings for Seton again? Maybe, but I had to do it. Northampton wasn’t big enough for both of us, and I had to deal with my personal demons as far away from him as possible. I was at a point in my life where either I could carry on behaving the way I had been for the last couple of months—thus leaving myself unchanged and open to more self-destruction—or I could step back and focus on becoming a better person. The second option was the sensible one. There were things I had to work out, and I was determined to do it. Alone.
In an effort to prepare for the future, I had tested the waters, just to see if I could make it without Seton. I’d tried dating a cute financial journalist from Springfield named Josh, and he was as adorable and charming as they come. We’d had a lovely meal at an Italian restaurant near Puffer’s Pond over in quiet, picturesque Amherst. I’d had a nice enough time, dating wasn’t quite as tedious as I thought it would be, but when he kissed me at the door, all I saw was Seton’s face, and I felt awful, like I’d been cheating on him or something. When Josh gave me an eager, expectant look, wanting me to invite him in, I’d made my excuses, claiming I was tired, and almost slammed the door in the poor guy’s face. I felt awful and mean, so I called to apologize the next day. He asked me out again, but I declined.
And that sums up my dating experiment. I wasn’t ready to see other people, couldn’t bear the idea of anyone touching me, and I had to get past that in order to do something I had never done before—go out on regular dates until I meet a nice guy. Hey, it would have to happen some time!
For now, I would focus on putting some real distance between Seton and me. I decided to move to Boston. Magda had helped me find an apartment and a job there. She’d lived in Boston before moving here, and she was more than happy to give me a hand. Well, ‘give me a hand’ implies that she only helped a little when in fact she did most of the research. She thought I should focus on other things while she did the grunt work, which was fine with me. I’ve never been a fan of real estate.
The apartment, according Magda, was in a beautiful brownstone near the Harbor Islands. The rent was ridiculously high, way above my price range, but I had some money saved up, and I would start my new job as soon as I got there anyway. The problem was that my new job wouldn’t pay well enough to cover the rent and have money leftover for other things. The new job was at a small PR firm situated on artsy and chic Newbury Street. Publicity was way outside my area of expertise, but it would do for now. I would have to get another job while I found a cheaper apartment though, or maybe do some freelance editing on the side. Whatever. I would work something out. I’d do anything just to get the hell out of Northampton as soon as possible.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Magda went on, sobbing. “Who’s going to read those god-awful poems now?”
I rested my cheek against the windowpane and tried not to cry myself. “Magda, we’ll still be friends. You’ll come visit me in Boston, right?”
She sauntered over to the window and pulled me by the elbow, enveloping me in a bear hug. Her tall, slightly pudgy frame sent warm comfort through me. “Of course I’ll go visit you! Especially now that my mother’s moving in.”
I laughed and returned her hug. “Then it’s settled. No more crying. And I’ll edit your book if you want me to. My editing fees will be reasonable, I promise.”
“What will you charge me?”
“I won’t come cheap, but I’ll cut you a deal anyway.”
“You’d better!” She broke our hug and gave me a doleful smile, her dimples peeking out of her round cheeks. “That’s actually not a bad idea. That way, I can call you and visit you whenever.”
“Yup. Sounds like a plan.”
We were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door, followed by the door swinging open. Alfred, carrying a large file folder with both hands, glanced briefly at all the mayhem in the room and flashed us one of his toothy grins.
“Hiya, kiddo,” Alfred said, dumping the large folder on my desk. “Almost done here, I see.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll be finished soon. I had no idea this office was so full of junk.”
Alfred waved me away and parked his butt in one of the chairs. “Never mind that, darlin’. No one’s rushing you. No one’s fired ya. We’re only sorry to see you go.” He paused to light up a cigarette, his usually cheerful face turning solemn. “We’re going to miss you, kiddo.”
I tore myself away from the window and sashayed over to Alfred, a fresh wave of sorrow coursing within me. Man, I knew this was going to be hard, but I had no idea it would be like this. The thought of leaving Alfred, Magda and Jeremy—people who were like family to me—broke my heart in two, and I almost bit my tongue to keep myself from asking Alfred for my job back.
“I’m going to miss you too, ’Fred,” I said, wondering if he heard the odd little squeak that escaped my throat. “I don’t think I’ll ever have another boss like you.” Sappy, I know, but that was how I felt at the moment. I bent in front of Alfred and dropped a kiss across his leathery cheek.
He blushed. “Yeah, well, you’ll always have a job here with us at Bookends AtoZ.”
“Thanks.” I cast a glance out the door and raised an eyebrow. “So… no goodbye cake? No farewell party? No cheap, tepid champagne in plastic cups?”
Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Jeremy bustled into the room, his hands behind his back. “I come bearing a goodbye gift,” he announced.
Yippee! At least someone got me a little something! “Eep! What did you get—”
The words froze in my throat when Jeremy’s hands suddenly revealed a black carrier bag, just like the ones Seton used to give me. My heart leaped, almost jumped out of my chest, and for several seconds all I could do was stare.
“What…” I swallowed and tried again. “What is that?”
Jeremy’s eyes dipped to the bag. “Just a little going away present from Mr. David J. Seton. Should I leave it at the desk or…?”
I took several deep breaths and tried to relax. Then I opened my mouth to tell Jeremy to shove t
he bag up his hairy butt, but closed it immediately, mentally reminding myself that I was no longer the bitchy person I once was. Okay, okay, so I was still a tad bitchy, but only on the general principle that bitchiness kicks meekness in the ass a thousand times, but quickly overcame my bitchy tendencies when I cast a worried glance across the room. The three of them had gone suspiciously quiet, staring at me with hopeful, almost simpering eyes. Identical smirks teased their mouths, and I had to stop myself from glowering at them. It took a second for me to put the pieces together. Alfred and Magda knew about my relationship with Seton, and Jeremy was somehow responsible for that. Damn it, I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his big mouth shut!
When I finally managed to gather enough strength to form a reaction, I said, “What the hell’s going on here?”
My annoyance was evident in my voice. Putting up with Jeremy’s meddling was bad enough, now I had to put up with everyone else’s at the office too? Boy, I was sure glad I was getting the hell out of there!
Amusement touched Jeremy’s dark eyes. “Like I said, this is a going away present from David.” He placed the glossy bag on top of the desk and cast a glance at everyone in the room. “My mean man George brought it in.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Your mean man?”
Jeremy laughed. “Let’s leave Margie alone so she could inspect her gift.”
“No, no!” I bellowed as everyone scrambled to the door. “No one’s leaving this room! I’m not opening that bag, so you might as well take it with you.”
They ignored me and opened the door to leave.
“Wait a second!” I ordered, holding up a quelling hand. “I don’t have to take this. I’m not opening the friggin’ bag and that’s final. I’m leaving.” I grabbed my Coach bag and started toward the door, but Alfred blocked my exit.
“You’re gonna sit your pretty little butt down and accept the gift from our superstar author,” he said in a non-negotiable, don’t-contradict-me-or-else voice.
“You’re not my boss anymore, you know.”
He had the audacity to scowl at me. “Yes, I am, kiddo. At least for another couple of hours. Now, open the bag. We’ll be out of your way.”
A pleased smile touched the corners of Jeremy’s mouth as he turned and disappeared out the door. Magda brushed a kiss across my cheek, and let out a slight giggle when I turned stormy eyes to her. Oh, so now she was laughing! No wonder her sobs were tearless. It was all a friggin’ act. I blew out a breath when Alfred gave me one of his I’m-with-ya-kiddo winks before closing the door. I did nothing for a while, just stood there, stunned, staring at the black bag with trepidation.
Despite my reluctance, the bag called out to me like a double-fudge ice cream sundae to a diabetic. I heaved out a sigh. I wanted to see what was inside the damn thing, wanted to see what Seton had gotten for me. Besides, the three meddling musketeers were outside, no doubt guarding my door, and those bastards wouldn’t let me out until I’d opened up Seton’s so-called going away present. And I wouldn’t beg them to leave me alone. A girl’s pride could only take so many blows.
Taking a deep, shuddery breath, I grabbed the bag and reached inside, extracting a heavy mass of paper held in place by two rubber bands. It was Seton’s finished manuscript. Pain surged through me as I tossed the empty bag onto the floor, out of the way and out of sight.
I swallowed a lump of dread and plopped down on my seat, glaring down at my old nemesis—Madeleine, by David J. Seton. I briefly contemplated setting the thing on fire, but what would I gain from that? Seton had wanted me to read his revised story, and I knew that he would insist on it until I had read it. So, reaching for a half-empty bottle of water sitting on my desk, I took a long sip and slid out the rubber bands from the manuscript, turning over the page and settling down to read.
One-hundred and fifty pages later, I looked up from the manuscript, confused. The story was exactly the same so far. No revisions, no change in tone or storyline, nothing. A quick flip through several more pages revealed nothing more than what I’d read the last time. I shook my head and shrugged to myself. What the hell was the point to this? Why would he want me to read this crap again? Was he trying to punish me or something? I ran clammy fingers through my hair and rubbed my eyes, then I settled down to read again. There had to be a catch, that much was certain. Maybe there was a new key sentence or paragraph somewhere that he’d wanted me to read.
The changes emerged as if from nowhere. They were subtle, but they were there from the very beginning. About halfway through the story, the tone changed from contemptuous amusement to… love. The narrator had fallen in love with Madeleine. The switch was slow, gradual, almost imperceptive, and when I finally noticed the difference in tone, the ambiguous narrator was obsessed with Madeline, and his obsession mirrored S.’s. S. had fallen in love with Madeleine at the same time the second-person voice had, confirming that the mysterious narrator and S. were one and the same.
S.’s plans to drive Madeleine mad with obsession had backfired, and he reluctantly began to notice all of her good qualities, and his sudden bursts of tenderness didn’t sit well with him. She had begun to invade his thoughts, his dreams, and he hated it. His mind spun with turmoil, and it echoed with Madeleine’s conflicting emotions. My heart rose to my throat when I realized that Seton had in fact gone through the same things I went through. We were two tormented souls, reluctantly reaching out to one another. We were real life versions of one of Quinn Armitage’s darkly erotic paintings.
Despite the changes, the subtext remained sinister and satirical throughout the book, and Seton used the same ambivalent, thought-provoking conclusion as before. He hadn’t changed the ending. This wasn’t a love story. Seton had an image and reputation to maintain—the king of erotic suspense—and there were no and-so-they-lived-happily-ever-afters in his suspenseful thrillers.
I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened to trickle down my face. I may not have believed Seton’s words when he’d spoken them out loud, but I had no choice but to believe them in writing. He had proven he meant every word he said, because he’d poured his heart and soul into his work. Each sentence, each word, had jumped out of the pages, caressing me like a sensual, loving touch. He didn’t lie that night I stormed out in the rain, nor did he try to manipulate me. He was convinced that we were meant to be together, that our love was worth fighting for.
How could I resist a man who so completely believed his world revolved around me just as my world revolved around him? And how could I run away from that?
When he revealed his beautiful naked body to me, he had also shown me the depths of his love for me. He had revealed his nakedness just as I’d bared my soul to him. And when we made love, he’d given me what I’d been seeking, what I’d been missing my whole life, and gave it with no reservations. He held nothing back. I remembered looking into those eyes, those deep, beautiful, mysterious green eyes that spoke with uncontainable emotion—an emotion I now realized was love—just waiting for me to respond to their silent longing. And in that sweet, glorious moment, we had connected in a way that went beyond the physical. Our connection was spiritual. Soul deep.
A river of tears leaked out of my eyes as I got up and walked slowly toward the window. They were tears of joy, tears of love, and tears of regret. I had been a fool, avoiding the man who had taught me to become a better person, a man whose love had proven to be unwavering and strong, not to mention patient. Well, not always patient, and he was certainly no saint, but you know what I mean.
He was right—I was a coward. I might have been trying to change, might have been uttering pretty words about becoming a better person, but deep down I was simply making up more excuses. I was scared shitless, nothing had changed. Well, enough was enough. It was time to free myself from the restraints that had kept me confined to emptiness and misery throughout my life, and like the satiny ties that held me prisoner in Seton’s bed, all I had to do was figure out a way to break free. It was within my power to
do so. Seton was right—I had all the power in our relationship.
Did this mean that my fears of rejection were over? No, they were not, but damn it, I wasn’t going to let fear win. I would get past this, and if I couldn’t, my sexy, gorgeous Dom would keep me on my toes. If he had to spank me a thousand times to force me to face my inner torments, then so be it.
Smoothing away tears, I moved away from the window and dashed toward the door, falling on my ass when I stumbled over Seton’s bag. Scrambling to my feet, I accidentally kicked the bag and sent it sliding toward the door. And that was when I saw them—two tiny black boxes peeking out from inside the bag. A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered within me, and I almost fell on my ass again.
Slowly, cautiously, I crept my way toward the bag and snatched it up. I reached into it and removed the two velvet boxes and a folded piece of paper. The slightly larger box revealed a new ankle bracelet and toe ring. This new set was in shiny yellow gold, white diamonds and rubies twinkling around it. When I opened the smaller box, a gold ring with a huge white diamond encircled with tiny rubies glinted at me.
My knees nearly buckled beneath me, and I reached out to press a hand against the door to steady myself. Trembling now, I unfolded the note and read it.
Marry me.
That was all it said. Short, sweet, straight to the point. It wasn’t a proposal. It was a command. An order.
I laughed through the tears that trickled down my face. Oh, Seton, I thought as I slid the ring into my finger. That is so you!
Chapter Seventeen
Here I was, on my way to be with the man I loved, armored with nothing but a raincoat (I’d rushed home to strip off my clothes and grab the coat), the ankle bracelet and toe ring, the engagement ring, and my heart. (There was something else too, a sexy surprise for Seton.)
The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel Page 30
