Temptation to Submit

by Jennifer Leeland

  “Heaven forbid I have a coherent thought in my head, right, Finch?” she snapped. “I’m sure you’d rather have a bimbo for a secretary, but you might come to appreciate one with a damn brain in her head.”

  “I said ‘too much,’” he said sedately, which only made her seethe more. “Are you telling me that you don’t have the proverbial hamster wheel going on right now?”

  Oh, how she wished she could deny it. The bastard. Yes, her thoughts went round and round, never stopping, never quiet. It’s why numbers were her thing. They added up, made sense. Everything else seemed like a twelve-ring circus with no ringmaster.

  There were three things that stopped the incessant head noise: work, music, and a damn good orgasm. The last item was rare and difficult to find, so she relied on numbers and her huge selection of music to get her through the day.

  Nell often marveled at Tori’s penchant for doing complex calculations with heavy metal blaring in her ears. She couldn’t wear headphones at work, but she’d put them on at lunch or a break, and the noise in her head would stop. Music didn’t require second dates or explanations or condoms. Just a little cold hard cash and a set of headphones.

  “And you’re gone.” Finch’s voice was filled with laughter, and she couldn’t help it. She snorted and turned toward him.

  “You’re right. And if it wasn’t for the fact that my situation is a lot more complicated than I could explain, I would tell you.” She wished she could tell him. She was well aware that a Dominant of Finch’s type desired trust above all else, and she wished she could give him that. But though she’d started the lie, too many people would be hurt if the truth came out.

  “You’re hiding something.”

  She knew that tone. Finch didn’t like deception at all. She remembered once when they were meeting late to hammer out some numbers with the software department. Jerry Arnold had been subtly needling her. He always did it. Ever since she’d refused to go out with him, he never missed an opportunity to try to get a zinger on her. That night, Jerry had implied Tori had been disloyal to Sunsoon because she helped with the transition for the ConFed team to take over.

  Tori had set Jerry straight, but the narrow look Finch gave the man didn’t bode well for the software designer. The last she’d heard, Jerry had been given a choice: transfer to the San Francisco office, or quit.

  “Everyone hides something.” She studied his profile. What secrets did Atticus Paulus keep? His practice in the Lifestyle was an open secret; his preference for pretty submissives well-known and gossiped about.

  “Eventually, Victoria, you will share your secrets with me.” He said it with such confidence. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased he wanted her to share with him or offended he was so certain she’d cave.

  Tori shook her head. “You’re the last person I’d share this one with, Finch.”

  He shot her a curious look. “Why? Do you think I’m not trustworthy?”

  “You always have your shit together,” she told him. “I bet you don’t even leave your underwear on the floor.” He’d be appalled at her comfortable apartment that was more about her love of books and food than her ability to be organized. “You’ve seen enough of my flaws.”

  “You’ve pointed out mine,” he argued. “Having flaws isn’t a bad thing, Victoria.”

  She snorted. “Says the man whose biggest flaw is arrogance. Let it go, Finch. I’m not talking.”

  When he turned his head and briefly met her gaze, she felt the erotic impact all the way to her toes. The man had an expression on his face that tapped into some of Tori’s deepest fantasies of being tied up and forced to talk. It wasn’t the first time she’d had these dark thoughts inspired by him. There was something in his demeanor that had her mind spiraling into those forbidden dreams of being stolen away, a consensual role-play that led to hot, rough sex. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.

  “What do you see in my face, Victoria?”

  She tipped her chin. “What do you think I see?”

  Finch watched the road as he answered her. “I think you saw a scene between us that involves kidnapping, rope, interrogation, and a lot of tears.”

  She couldn’t breathe normally. A kidnapping fantasy was nothing new, and she’d thought she was projecting her own wants onto his enigmatic glance. To know he was right there with her was both erotic and disturbing to her peace of mind.

  “I don’t cry,” she shot back.

  “Why not? Are you afraid it will make people think you’re weak?”

  She was damn sorry she’d told him.

  She was terrified that once she started to cry, she wouldn’t stop. “I just don’t. Some people release their emotions that way. I don’t. Why are we talking about this?”

  “I’d make you cry.” The way he said it arrowed straight to her pussy. Why the hell would the thought of Finch kidnapping her and forcing her to reveal her feelings make her heart ache and her panties wet?

  “Is that supposed to be sexy? Because I’m not seeing it.” Only she was seeing it. Every erotic moment of it.

  “Emotional release like that can be the biggest gift to a man like me.” He shot her a dark, unfathomable look. “It’s an act of trust.”

  “More incentive for me to keep my distance, don’t you think?”

  She turned back to the window and tried to shut out the loud voice in her head that screamed for the relief the man represented. He offered the opportunity she’d always avoided, the chance to turn all her emotional shit off and let it go. Somehow, he seemed to understand that crying, that natural response to grief or pain, was out of her reach and he could give her that through his dominance.

  The price was too fucking high, though. There was an intimacy, a connection she couldn’t give that would inevitably result from giving into him. It was imperative that she stay focused on her mother.

  Finch didn’t argue with her. He turned on his CD player and kept his attention on the long stretch of highway in front of them.

  THE WOMAN DROVE him insane. Atticus played his most recent musical purchase and kept his thoughts to himself. In the last six months, he had spent hours negotiating the details for the merger with Victoria, and she’d rarely been silent for more than five minutes. Now, she’d said nothing for over an hour.

  Whatever thoughts rattled around in her beautiful mind were not pleasant. She had a numb, resigned expression on her face. He recognized that look. He’d seen the same expression on Tony’s face whenever his father called. Alcoholism had caused a lot of damage in Tony’s life, and Atticus had often wondered why he didn’t cut his father loose completely.

  That resignation and pain was usually connected with someone who was loved but unlovable. In Tony’s case, his father. Who was it in Victoria’s life? It couldn’t be a family member. Victoria only had an aunt, and from what Atticus had gleaned, they weren’t close. Besides, the woman had seemed to be a paragon of virtue.

  Every one of the executive secretaries had been fully vetted by Atticus and his team. Victoria had been orphaned young, her father never in the picture and her mother dead when she was a teenager. So who was this person who caused so much distress for Victoria?

  The jealousy took Atticus by surprise. If some lover was causing this kind of drama, the bastard was not right for her. It appalled him that he was considering how to interfere. The woman had definitely become a problem.

  Her phone exploded as they reached the turnoff from I-15 to I-10, and whatever news she was given wasn’t good. She was frustratingly cryptic on her end, and Finch gritted his teeth as he negotiated the heavy L.A. traffic.

  “My address is—” Victoria started, but he interrupted her.

  “I know your address.” He put the details into his car’s GPS and followed the directions. Victoria lived in a nice neighborhood in a house she had purchased herself. West Covina wasn’t inexpensive, but Victoria had caught mortgages at a lower interest rate and managed to make the payments with what she made from Sun
soon.

  When ConFed took over, Atticus knew Victoria had a vested interest in making sure her paycheck continued. The house seemed to mean a lot to her since she’d sacrificed a lot to own it.

  The twists and turns to arrive at their destination were accompanied by silence; the only voice in the car was the robotic tone from the GPS. As they rounded the corner toward her street, she gasped.

  In front of her house were two police cars, their lights flashing. As Atticus pulled up, he noted the front door wide open and Victoria’s things scattered from the living room into the front yard. Someone had destroyed Victoria’s pictures, her knickknacks, and what looked like a big, stuffed teddy bear lay in pieces on the grass.

  He stopped the car, and she bounded out toward the house.

  Two officers stopped her at the door. “Miss, don’t go in there.”

  “This is my home. Please.” Victoria’s voice was high and shrill.

  Atticus approached and put his hand on her shoulder, a silent signal to the two men. She shrugged him off, but not before the two officers got the message.

  He followed her inside, his stomach churning. This wasn’t robbery. Things were missing, clearly, but the destruction was personal. Victoria’s clothes were shredded on the floor. Some artwork looked like it had been slashed with a knife. Whoever had done this hated Victoria.

  “We’ve taken fingerprints, and we’ll be able to tell—”

  “No.” Victoria faced the older cop who had spoken. “Please go. I won’t make a report.”

  “If you know who did this, then you should speak up,” the younger officer admonished.

  But the older cop had clearly seen Victoria’s expression before and shook his head. “It’s no use. She’s protecting someone.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. Please don’t go after anyone for this. It was my fault.”

  The older cop’s jaw clenched. “I only hope we won’t come back out here to look at your dead body. Whoever did this doesn’t like you.”

  Victoria nodded, and Atticus noted her lower lip trembled. “I know. I’m sorry.” She turned to Atticus and clenched her hands together. “Mr. Paulus, thank you for getting me here so quickly. I will see you on Monday.”

  “Victoria—”

  “Thank you,” she said and walked him to the door.

  He was tempted to override her and demand that she stay in a hotel, but he didn’t.

  He walked away. His reasons for doing so were weak. The truth was more pathetic. His pride was hurt. She wouldn’t allow him to help her, but then, why would she? He meant nothing to her, and she meant nothing to him.

  Yeah. He’d keep telling himself that. He’d keep telling himself that as he parked nearby so he could keep an eye on her.

  “I KNOW YOU don’t understand, but Betty isn’t responsible for her behavior right now,” Tori explained to the older officer. Officer Baker. The younger one was Officer John. Both men were irritated with her.

  “All the more reason to get her off the streets,” Officer Baker said.

  “She’s dying.” She managed to say it without falling apart. That was good.

  “Doesn’t she have any family to take care of her? Why does it have to be you?” Officer John pressed the issue.

  “She only has me.” Tori gritted her teeth and took a deep breath before she spoke again. “She’ll be off the streets soon. If it will locate her sooner, I’ll file a complaint, but I won’t press charges.”

  “Judging by this, she’ll end up getting in trouble anyway.” Officer John noted something else in his notebook and headed for the door.

  The cops were well-meaning, but they didn’t understand. Her mother was furious with Tori for breaking all contact, for being successful, for not supporting her habit. The damage was her mother’s last “fuck you” to the world. Tori just happened to be conveniently in the crosshairs.

  When the two cops left, Tori started to clean up the mess, bagging up the shredded clothes and broken pictures. It wasn’t until she stepped outside, collecting the remnants of the life she’d made for herself that her mother had destroyed, that she found the bear.

  Her teddy bear. It had been one of the only things Tori had ever won. She’d been in high school, dating a cute guy who didn’t think she was weird, and they’d gone to a local carnival. Too poor to visit the big amusement parks, they’d contented themselves with the dangerous rides and toothless carnies at the local fair. But Frank had bought her a chance to throw three rubber balls at a bull’s-eye and win a prize.

  That bear was one of the few things she had that held good memories of something normal. On that day, with that guy, she hadn’t felt like a freak with a drug-addict mom and a bachelor aunt.

  As she lifted the sad remains of her bear, the stuffing spread all over the yard, the beaded eyes ripped from the face, the arms and legs violently separated from the torso, she cradled it to her and rocked back and forth.

  The tears wouldn’t come. They never did.

  * * * *

  “I think this is a terrible idea,” Dr. Ives said, and his eyes narrowed on her face. “This will consume your life, Ms. Rodgers.”

  “She’s dying, Dr. Ives.” Tori gazed at her mother in the hospital bed. Officer John had been right. Betty had been picked up at two in the morning, trying to break into a gas station. Once she’d been arrested and booked, she collapsed and started to bleed out of her nose.

  She was barely conscious. But she woke up long enough to look Tori in the eye and say, “Bitch!”

  Monday, Tori called in sick. She didn’t call Finch directly. She couldn’t. Instead, she left a message and hoped he would leave her be. Then she spent the day lining up her mother’s care.

  Hospice was called in, but Tori took the added precaution of hiring an extra hand. Money was tight, but Aunt Angela came through with a loan to help her sister live comfortably as she died.

  The only problem was that Maria couldn’t stay overnight, and she couldn’t be there until close to nine in the morning. There was no way that Tori was leaving her mother alone with a hospice nurse. Even as they moved Betty into Tori’s home, her mother cursed them all. She wanted her fix. She wanted to get high. She wanted oblivion.

  As Tori tucked her mother into the small extra bedroom Tori used for guests, she wondered if she’d lost her mind. By early Tuesday morning, she was sure she had. Betty had woken up several times in the night, tried to get out the window, and had to be pulled back into the bedroom.

  “You fucking bitch! If I hadn’t gotten knocked up with you, he never would have left me. I should have fucking killed you.” The cancer hadn’t made her voice any softer.

  The hospice nurse, whose name was Nancy, was appalled at the way Tori’s mother screamed at her.

  Tori only hoped Nancy wouldn’t make the connection and start talking. So far, Tori had been able to do everything as Betty’s “friend.”

  “Betty, you shouldn’t talk like that,” Nancy said soothingly.

  A sly expression crossed Betty’s face. Nancy probably had drugs. Hell, Tori could read it on her mother’s face as if Betty had said it aloud.

  “She wouldn’t talk to me or see me,” Betty whined. “I was homeless and on the streets, but she didn’t give a shit.”

  “She’s taking care of you now,” Nancy said.

  “She’s probably getting paid for it,” Betty sneered. And then, a horrified look stretched the skin over her face. “Oh, God, Tori, baby. I’m sorry.”

  Tori immediately sat on the bed beside her. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “I don’t know why I say those things.” She started to cry. This was the worst part. The cancer had robbed her mother of any of her good qualities. It wasn’t that Betty had been a horrible person all the time. She’d tried to quit taking drugs. She’d tried to be a good mother. But those things were unreachable for her. Long before she’d been sick with cancer, she’d been sick, helpless against the cravings that d
rove her.

  Tori held her mother until Betty fell asleep. Nancy didn’t say anything, thank God.

  The next morning, though, Tori was a raw nerve, tired and emotionally drained. She sure as hell wasn’t up to banter with Finch. But she needed the money. She needed her damn job.

  Maria showed up at ten minutes to nine, but it took Tori thirty minutes to get to the office. When she walked in, she knew she was in trouble. Finch had his arms crossed and glared at her.

  “Come into my office, please, Ms. Rodgers.”

  He shut the door behind her, and she realized she was terrified. Why, she wasn’t sure. But what shocked her into silence was that along with the fear, she was aroused. That couldn’t be normal. She was just tired, fucked up from the weekend.

  On his desk was one stapled stack of papers, and he picked it up and handed it to her. “Read the fraternization clause, Ms. Rodgers.”

  “I’ve read it before,” she snapped.

  “Read it,” he insisted sternly.

  “‘If any employee of ConFed declares themselves available for a Dominant/submissive relationship within the confines of company policy, they shall be employed by the most senior officer for such a relationship.’” She glanced at him. There were so many smart-ass things she should say like, Is this ConFed’s version of eHarmony? but the words dried up in her throat. After all, she usually mouthed off to Finch regularly, and she needed to misdirect him from that fraternization clause. If she didn’t need her job so badly, she would have.

  But she couldn’t help the longing she felt too. She wanted to explore her kinky side in real life, not just online, but she was afraid of what she might uncover. Well aware she was damaged goods, she didn’t want to start revealing all that shit that probably lay beneath the surface. She made men run like hell most of the time anyway. Imagine if she started accessing all that crap during sex?

  “Now, read section four.” His lips were tightened, and he seemed angry with her.

  She focused on the words. “‘Punctuality is required for all job positions. Notification and reason must be given for lateness. An employee who is late for work will be reprimanded. If they are more than ten minutes late, the employee will receive a written reprimand.’”