The Girlfriend (The Boss)

by Abigail Barnette

  “She tried to help Gabriella Winters sabotage Porteras. Aren’t you the slightest bit suspicious that she might not have your best interests at heart?”

  That was it. I wasn’t going to listen to any more, and I wasn’t going to let Neil listen to any more, either. I squared my shoulders, took a few quiet steps back from the door, then raised a racket with my heels on the marble floor, calling, “Hey, do you guys need help in there?” before I pushed my way in. I didn’t look at Valerie, though I desperately wanted to make full, glaring eye contact with her. I kind of didn’t want her to know that I’d overheard her. It was embarrassing.

  “I think we have everything, darling.” Neil had set the champagne bottle aside, and he reached for it now.

  “Everything except your sparkling company, of course,” Valerie said, and the weird thing was, I could almost believe she was being nice, if I hadn’t heard the nasty things she’d said about me.

  “I suppose I should congratulate you,” I said with a bright smile at the both of them. “Your daughter is getting married.”

  Neil knocked over two of the glasses. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it had to do with his obvious displeasure at Michael’s proposal, or something worse. I went to his side at once, and Valerie moved aside.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him, putting a hand on his back as he righted the flutes.

  “Fine. I’m fine.” But he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a gesture I used to think was habitual, but now I suspected had to do with the headaches from the leukemia.

  I turned to Valerie and faked an apologetic smile. “Could you give us a moment?”

  She blinked at me, and then said, “Of course. Yes, of course. Let us know if you need any more help.”

  After she left, the door swinging behind her, Neil looked up with a pained expression and said, “You heard every bloody word.”

  “I did. I don’t like her.” I wasn’t going to lie. It wouldn’t help to pretend like it didn’t bother me. “But I can get along with her. I don’t want to make waves.”

  “Or splash blood on the walls?” he filled one flute and handed it to me. “We didn’t meet yesterday, Sophie. I can read your face like a book.”

  “Oh god, could everyone tell that I’m massively threatened by her?” I took a long swallow from my glass.

  “That’s for the toast,” he scolded. “And you needn’t be threatened by her. Regardless of what she may imagine, Valerie doesn’t have that kind of control over my personal life.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” I watched as he filled the other flutes, and I spied the other bottle on the counter. “Hey, do you have more of this? We should take some up to our room tonight.”

  He put an arm around my waist and pulled me close, brushing his lips over my forehead. “You see? I love you for your brain, not just that incredible body.”

  I laughed, and he released me to lift the tray of glasses. Just a moment ago, he’d been weak and fumbling, now he was fine. Then I had the horrible thought that “fine” Neil had been hiding his illness from me for a long time. I vividly remembered every instance where he’d complained about a headache or looked tired, and I felt so guilty for not realizing there had been a problem.

  “Shall we?” He asked, and I quickly composed my expression.

  No matter what happened, I resolved that I wouldn’t let him see my worry. At least, not right now.

  * * * *

  We stayed up late celebrating Emma’s engagement, but when talk turned to dresses and flower arrangements, Neil suggested he and I turn in. We said our goodnights, then made the trek to his room. I was so thankful once we were alone again. Meeting his family had been lovely, for the most part, but the stresses of the evening— good and bad— had sapped my energy.

  “I think that went pretty well,” I called to him as I slipped the pins from my hair and shook it out. I almost moaned at the delicious soreness in my scalp.

  Neil was in the bathroom, taking out his contacts. He called back, “It really did, darling. And thank you for being so kind to my mother at dinner, when she called you Elizabeth. I should have warned you about her memory.”

  “It’s okay. She had a stroke, I totally get it.”

  “I’m having difficulty remembering that her brain has been damaged, because she’s still so like herself. Even in the wheelchair, she’s terrifying. Shorter, but still just as terrifying.”

  He came out of the bathroom, bare-chested, bare-footed, wearing just his black silk boxers. I’d never considered boxers sexy at all until I’d started dating Neil.

  “Did you have a good Christmas?” he asked as he walked around the huge bed and pulled the blankets back on his side.

  “I did. And what a thoughtful gift. Beautiful shoes and Paris. You truly know the way to a girl’s heart.” I grinned at him while I took off my earrings. “So... Emma is getting married, huh?”

  He raised an eyebrow in warning and said nothing.

  I ignored his sullen attitude. “You have to admit, it was very sweet, doing it here, with her family all around. It was romantic.”

  “Was it?” he sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his neck wearily. “I thought he was supposed to ask for my blessing first.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s traditional.” He would have sounded outraged, if he weren’t so tired.

  “It’s an outdated custom. Your daughter is a grown woman.” I remembered a tactic Emma had used to shut him up once. “Unless you have a problem with a twenty-four year old woman making a serious commitment to her boyfriend?”

  “Keep it up and I might,” he grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about horrible Michael. Come on. Get naked and get into this bed.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him as I wriggled out of my dress. He laughed low in his chest as I bent over unnecessarily far to retrieve it from the floor.

  “I was lying when I said I didn’t have a present for you,” I told him, crawling across the impossibly wide bed to get to his side. “I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you about it in front of your mother.”

  “Oh.” A flush crept up his neck, and he gave me a weird little smile before looking away from me. “I’m actually quite tired. Do you mind terribly if—”

  “It wasn’t a present for tonight. I was thinking we could try something out in Paris.” I chewed my lip and sat back on my heels. “I was reading a bit more. About twenty-four-seven submission, slave training... I thought maybe we’d give that a try. One last hurrah before you start chemo. Is that something you’d be interested in trying? Just while we’re in Paris?”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but I could tell he was pleased at the suggestion. “I would love it, but are you sure that’s something you’re ready for?”

  The thought of giving Neil total control over my life for real would never be appealing to me. The thought of giving him total control over me as a sexual partner for a few days, though... I took one of his hands and brought it to my chest, then slowly drew it down, between my breasts, over my stomach. He knew how I was going to answer him, and dove his fingers between my legs, slipping under my black satin panties to find me hot and wet already, just from talking about the idea.

  “Willing, obviously,” he said with a smirk, circling my clitoris with a fingertip.

  I moaned, and my head lolled on my neck, my long hair brushing my back. “Very willing, Sir.”

  I knew what that word did to him. And it had been a while since he’d heard me call him that.

  “I might not be as tired as I thought I was,” he said, slowly moving his finger over my flesh. “Are you going to be ready by the time we go to Paris? The doctor said two weeks.”

  I shrugged. “I feel fine, really. Just some light spotting now.” I knew that wasn’t a problem for him, anyway. “Nothing hurts, though. No more cramps or anything. I’m already dying to fuck you.”

  “Full-time submission is much different than the play we’ve engaged in bef
ore. I would be... stricter. I’m a different man in that role,” He warned.

  Oh. That was interesting. “Have you been going easy on me?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  My breath fluttered out of me, and I put my hand on his wrist, gently pushing his hand away. “No. No, we’re not doing anything right now. You’re going to talk to me.”

  He groaned and flopped onto his back. “I knew the moment I said it that you wouldn’t like that.”

  “Very perceptive of you.” I sat back and crisscrossed my legs, pulling the blankets to cover my lap. “Did you want to go further than we have been going?”

  “I would, if you would as well. But it’s been a while for us, Sophie,” he reminded me, and I thought back. The last time he’d played Dom was the day he’d first told me he loved me. He’d followed that bombshell by handcuffing me to him in the shower and using the hose attachment to subject me to forced orgasms.

  “Yeah, it has been,” I agreed. My skin ached at the memory. Sure, he’d spanked me while we were fucking, on occasion, but we hadn’t done any real D/s play for a few weeks. I was surprised at how much I missed it. “What kind of stuff would you want to do in Paris?”

  “Well...” he looked uncomfortable. That was so unlike Neil. Usually, he could talk about all sorts of sex stuff as easily as asking me to pass the salt. “How would you feel about going to a dungeon?”

  “Excuse me?” I had seen many police procedural dramas in my time, and “murder at the sex dungeon” episodes were as common to them as “divide the apartment in half” episodes were to sitcoms. I imagined a place with graffitied walls and loud house music. Then I tried to imagine Neil in an establishment like that. It seemed unlikely. “What goes on in one of those places?”

  “Well, the club I belong to is very exclusive, and they have a wonderful staff who keep the place clean and safe,” he began. He was trying to gauge my reaction, I realized. I kept my expression neutral and gave nothing away. If he thought I was disgusted or afraid, he would dismiss the idea altogether, and I was actually very curious about it. He continued, “There is some very interesting equipment there for the use of members, in private as well as public.”

  “Public sex?” I raised an eyebrow. “In the age of camera phones?”

  “No phones allowed. And I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you were uncomfortable with.” He shrugged. “This is the only dungeon I’ve ever been to that allows sex on the premises, in part because it isn’t prostitution. No money changes hands between the staff and the clientele beyond the annual membership dues.”

  “Wow, this sounds like some crazy rich-people-orgies-in-castles stuff,” I said warily. “How much are the yearly dues?”

  He shifted. “Let’s... not discuss that right now. I will tell you that a part owner in the club is involved in some very high level politics in France, and that helps the club fly under the radar, so to speak.”

  “Huh.” I guess there were a lot of rules you could circumvent if you had enough money. “So, if people can’t have sex in these clubs normally... What’s the point of them?”

  He looked a bit bashful. “Sometimes it’s nice to just spank someone and order them around, without intercourse being involved.”

  “But have you ever had sex with someone in this club?” I wasn’t jealous, just genuinely curious and quite turned on. Neil’s past experiences always sounded so hot.

  “I have,” he admitted.

  “Like what?” I licked my lower lip in a parody of over-the-top seduction. “I want all the dirty details, Sir.”

  He laughed. “All right. I was in a three way there—”

  “Boy-boy-girl?” I prompted. “Girl-girl-boy?”

  “All male, sorry to disappoint you,” he said with a grin.

  “Disappoint me? I’ll be thinking about that in the shower later.” I was so fucking hot for him. Two weeks wouldn’t be up soon enough.

  “And, I’ve occasionally been invited to engage other Doms’ subs. Sometimes, that offer is hard to pass up.”

  “I don’t know if I’d like that,” I admitted. “I mean, I’m not sure how I would feel about you with someone else. That’s kind of... mine.”

  “Oh, another piece of Dominant Sophie rears its head.”

  I shook my head, smiling down at my hands. “Not Dominant. Not at all. Just possessive. I waited a long time for you.”

  “You could watch if you’d like. Not a D/s scene with someone else. You’re right, that’s yours. But you could watch me fuck someone, if that turned you on.”

  I thought he was kidding, for a moment. “Are you serious?”

  “If you wanted to watch me with a man or another woman, I wouldn’t dismiss the notion out of hand.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind watching you with another man, sometime, if you were open to it.”

  Something in me recoiled at the thought. I’d long bought into the cultural expectation of One True Love, even if I hadn’t wanted one, myself. A threesome with strangers in a BDSM dungeon seemed fine to me, but watching the man or woman you loved being physically intimate with another person seemed as though it should wound you, not turn you on.

  But that discomfort was momentary, when I actually imagined it. When I pictured another woman’s legs winding around Neil’s waist, her face contorting with pleasure, and knowing exactly how she felt… There was a strange sort of pride in it. Ownership. That’s mine, look how lucky I am.

  Watching him with a man held a different sort of appeal, no less exciting; a man could give him something I could not. But I would still be there to see it, to be a part of the intimate experience.

  However, the reverse was a bit harder to imagine. “I don’t know if I could submit to another man.”

  “I don’t know that I would want you to,” he admitted. “I would want to control the interaction.”

  Now that... ooh, a shiver went down my spine. “Okay, I can get on board with that.”

  “Really?” he lifted an eyebrow. “And rough sex?”

  “How rough? I mean, I don’t want you to punch me in the face or electrocute me.” In my online BDSM exploration, I’d heard about things like violet wands and tens units. I didn’t think they sounded like my cup of tea at all.

  “I’m too afraid of electricity myself to use it on anyone else,” he assured me. “Some flogging maybe. Hair pulling, non-violent choking, face slapping, that sort of thing.”

  I considered. If I didn’t like any of it, I could just tell him. It wouldn’t be an issue and we wouldn’t do it again. That was just how our relationship was, so I didn’t have any real fear about trying new things. “Okay. Anything once.”

  I got into bed and rolled onto my side to face him, the way he was facing me. He raised his arm and dropped one hand on my hip, squeezing my flesh through my panties.

  “Did you have a good Christmas?” I asked him, as he massaged in wide circles. His thumb skimmed over the dip between my hip and my tummy, and my breath caught.

  “I was happier than I have been in a very long time,” he told me, lowering his mouth over my nipple.

  “I thought you said you were tired,” I reminded him, my voice a shaky murmur.

  “I remember saying no such thing,” He scolded. “How dare you. I might have to take you over my knee.”

  And, I am very happy to report, he did.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Neil’s house in London was in an area called Belgravia. The neighborhood was filled with a lot of very serious looking black sedans and tall, pristine white stucco mansions. And it was just a hop, skip, and a jump from Buckingham Palace.

  Which wasn’t weird at all.

  We left his house in Somerset the day after Christmas and travelled by car to London. It was a three-hour drive made totally bearable by the comfort of the Maybach and Neil’s company. Despite his daughter’s engagement, he was in great spirits when we arrived.

  At least this place looked more like a townhouse— albeit a very, very posh townhouse�
� than Hogwarts. It was a white stucco mansion in a row of white stucco mansions. There weren’t many cars parked along the street, but the ones that were parked there definitely matched the neighborhood’s price range. One long black sedan parked had flags I didn’t recognize on the front.

  “Is that an ambassador’s house or something?” I asked, poking Neil in the side as we went up the walkway.

  “Hmm?” He looked up, frowning. “I have no idea. It’s likely. I hardly know anyone in the neighborhood anymore. A lot of the neighbors don’t live here full time.”

  Neil opened the door onto an entrance hall with pristine white walls and a mosaic tile floor in greens and blues. A staircase with a single, l-shaped bend rose gracefully toward the ceiling. Aroyal blue runner edged with a gold border covered the width of each step, to the mahogany railing. Under the stairs was a plain, square fireplace, and two Queen Anne wing chairs in gray-blue.

  “Very masculine,” I said in appreciation as I stepped cautiously through the space.

  “Elizabeth thought so. We could change it, if you like.” Neil sounded embarrassed. He shrugged off his coat and opened a wide door— all of them had ornamental lintels with scrollwork arched above them— and pulled out a gleaming wood hanger. “I won’t be much help in the decorating department, I’m afraid, other than to plead with you to keep some blue—”

  “Nope, nope, no. I am not going to redecorate your house.” I slipped out of my coat and handed it to him. “No butler here?”

  He smiled to himself as he hung up my coat. “Don’t need one. This house is much smaller. I have the chef, of course, he’ll be here after the third, and a housekeeping staff of five. It doesn’t take much to run this place.”

  “A little more than your apartment in New York,” I observed. “More than I ever needed for my apartment...”