by Saxon, K. E.
Except, he needed her to be on his arm over the next few months while he proved to his creditors that he was a responsible sort—they could trust him with their money. So, he’d best spend a little less time at the office and spend some real time with her. Not in bed, of course. He wouldn’t be that much of a bastard. Once he’d paid back the money, then yes. After that kiss—hell yes. But not until then.
His gaze dropped to the ring box on his desk. Good thing his last fiancée—the fourth to be exact—had over-nighted that ring to his office eight months ago. It had come in handy.
* * *
CHAPTER TWO
“So how long is Isadora supposed to be gone?” Delilah asked her stepmother. Delilah had only arrived a quarter-hour ago and was disappointed to learn that her half-sister had left on a holiday with friends early that morning.
Her stepmother’s drawn-on dark brow lifted as she did her usual look-down-her-nose glare in Delilah’s direction. “I believe she told me she would be back on Wednesday.”
Eudora Perrault was the most intimidating person Delilah knew. With her perfectly coiffured black hair, professionally silver streaked to frame her classic features; svelte form; manicured nails; and never-a-wrinkle-in-sight designer clothes, she also made Delilah feel like a shabby poor relation—high fashion on a full-figure was a travesty as far as Eudora was concerned—and that was before she opened her mouth and spewed her diatribes listing all the ways in which Delilah had fallen short in her estimation.
But today would be different. Today she’d have the woman eating out of her hand. And wouldn’t Paula, her assertiveness trainer-cum-domme mentor, be proud? An anticipatory thrill arced into Delilah’s chest as she set the teacup and saucer down on the cocktail table. “Well, Belle-mère, I have some wonderful news to give you. A couple of days ago, I invested a little money in diamond stocks, and as of this morning, I’m—well, we’re—worth millions!”
The silence that followed her announcement was as reverent as a prayer.
“I suppose you have documentation of this?” her stepmother said finally.
Delilah nodded, sliding the stockbroker documents from her briefcase and holding them out for the woman’s inspection. “The dollar amount is on the last page.”
Her stepmother snatched the papers from Delilah’s hand and quickly scanned the sheets. When her eyes landed on the sum, they widened and her lips curled into a smile. “Excellent my girl!” She handed the documents back to Delilah. Crossing her arms over her chest, she walked over to look out the floor to ceiling window that faced the backyard, tapping her red-nailed finger against her arm the entire time. “Although, it is rather hard to believe that you did this on your own.”
“I did. All by myself.”
Delilah could tell by her stepmother’s stiff posture that she didn’t want to believe her, but after another moment, evidently grasping the full impact such a situation would bestow upon, not just their finances, but their tarnished family name, her stance relaxed. “Hmmm.” Settling in the mauve Rococo style chair across from Delilah, she drummed her finger on the curve of the ornate arm. Delilah recognized the gleam in her eye. She’d switched from suspicious anger to cool calculation.
“So,” her stepmother said, “it seems it will be you who gains us our rentrée into society.”
Now for the coup de grâce! Her stepmother, surely, would beam with pride. Delilah stood up and thrust her be-ringed hand toward her. “And I’m engaged! To Chas Regan!”
Her stepmother’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “Chas Regan! I don’t believe you.” She raced forward and yanked Delilah’s hand up so she could examine the diamond more closely.
“Ow! Belle-mère, your nails are digging into my skin!” Delilah’s spirits plummeted as her all-too-familiar anxiety came back in a rush.
“Where did you get this?” The woman’s avaricious eyes bore daggers into Delilah.
“I-I—I told you. Chas proposed to me this morning, and I accepted.”
“Whyever would Chas Regan want you for a wife?”
The dagger points sank into Delilah’s heart. “B-be—because he loves me.”
With a swish of her hand, her stepmother dismissed the idea. “He should have given you the yellow diamond, then.”
A pang of grief for Chas’s mother mixed with longing for the symbolic heirloom swept through her. “Th-that was his mother’s ring—I’d never expect him to do that, it means too much to him. Besides, it’s too soon after her passing.”
The fire returned to her stepmother’s eyes. “What did you do to coerce the man into shackling himself to you?” She grabbed Delilah’s chin, pinching it as she brought it up to glare into her eyes. Are you pregnant?”
“No! No. I-I told you, belle-mere, he loves me.”
For an electric moment, the woman just stared at her with narrowed eyes. Then, dropping her hand to her side, she straightened and laughed, but the laugh held no humor, only anger. She crossed her arms over her chest. “He used those words, did he?”
“N-n—no, Not exactly.” Stop stuttering! Thrusting her shoulders back, she said more firmly, “He had this ring picked out and said he had very romantic plans to ask me on Valentine’s Day, but when I told him about my windfall, he worried that if he waited, I would be more likely to question his motives.” She captured her stepmother’s narrowed gaze and said again, “He loves me.” Something hard and pea-sized caught at the back of her throat and she choked on it.
“Be careful with my upholstery, girl! If you are ill, go to the lavatory! Quickly!”
The object flew out of Delilah’s mouth into her palm. Her stomach sank to her toes. She knew before she looked what it would be.
Her stepmother wrenched her hand up and took hold of the thing. “Why—” Her stepmother blinked up at her. “It’s a diamond!” Her eyes narrowed again. “Where did you get this, girl? You didn’t steal it, did you?” She whirled around and began to pace. “Of all the asinine schemes—hiding it in your mouth!” She jabbed her finger at her and said, “You are just like your father—a thief who’ll blight our family name with such shenanigans.” She thrust the diamond toward her. “Give it back to whomever you stole it from.”
Delilah took the diamond and squeezed it tight in her trembling hand. “I—” Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe. “I need to sit down.” Her head swam and her knees wobbled as she sank down onto the sofa once more. “Belle-mère—Oh, God, Belle-mère. Something very strange is going on.” She shook her head and met her stepmother’s gaze. “I didn’t steal this diamond, I swear.” She rubbed her dry throat. “A-a—A few days ago, I was standing in front of the downtown library when a beggar woman walked by. I offered her some food.” She leaned forward. “Then, all at once, there was a loud explosive sound—everything turned rose-hued—and glitter swirled in the air.” She opened her hand and looked down at the diamond. “Then—this. Not this one exactly, but the same thing happened. A diamond appeared in my mouth, nearly went down my wind pipe.” Her brows drew together. “One other thing: before she disappeared, she—she called me ‘Lila’. It was creepy, unsettling. She said ‘bless you Lila dear.’” Delilah looked at her stepmother. “How could she have known my name?”
Her stepmother’s eyes held a light as bright as the diamond in Delilah’s hand, her shoulders heaved with the effort to take air into her lungs. “The fairy. It must be.”
* * *
“Isadora, come home immediately.” Delilah’s stepmother slammed the receiver of her Victorian-style phone onto its cradle and stormed back to her chair. “I have no idea why the fairy chose you to bestow her blessing upon, when it’s clear as clear can be that Isadora is the more deserving of you. But, that will change, I’m sure, once Isadora returns and meets the fey creature herself.” She took a long drag from her gold-tipped black cigarette before saying, “I had to leave a message. Of course the girl’s phone was turned off.”
She marched over to Delilah and held out her hand. “The diamonds.
Give them to me.”
After nearly choking on both of them, Delilah was more than willing to hand them over. She quickly retrieved the other from her purse and dropped them both into her stepmother’s hand.
Her stepmother mewed with pleasure. “These still hold magic in them, I’d bet my life on it!” She lifted them in the air and said, “MAKE THE PERRAULTS THE MOST ADMIRED FAMILY IN SOCIETY!”
Silver smoke rose in long tentacles from the diamonds and in the next instant, sparks flew. Eudora lowered her hand and looked, eyes wide with expectation. “Aargh! They’re worthless!” She stormed over to Delilah and slapped her across her face. “What did you do!” her stepmother yelled.
Delilah cried out, nearly toppling from her chair.
Soothing her burning cheek with her hand, Delilah lifted her watery gaze to the virago towering above her. Insides trembling, she said, “N-nothing belle-mere.”
Her stepmother jammed her hand under Delilah’s nose “These are nothing more than worthless pieces of coal!”
“I-it must be the fairy.” Delilah’s heart tripped in her chest but somehow she got the next past her closed throat. “S-s-she must not have wanted you to h-have t-them.”
* * *
An hour later, red-eyed, sniffling and still unstrung, Delilah settled into her favorite chair in her living room, took a long swallow of wine, and dialed her mentor. After the tongue-lashing she’d just received from her stepmother—not to mention the unprecedented physical abuse—all her bright feelings and burgeoning self-confidence had crumbled into dust. She was in desperate need of a power boost and an ego cocktail. And she knew just how to get it. Paula answered on the third ring.
“Hey!”
“Hi, Paula. It’s me, Delilah.”
Paula chuckled. “I know.”
“Oh, yeah. Caller I.D.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I took a week of vacation.”
“Do you have a cold? You sound funny.”
No way was she going to admit to what she’d allowed her stepmother to get away with. Even if she was determined it would be the first and last time the woman ever did. “No—umm…I’m fine. Must be the phone line.” More tears welled in her eyes, but she took a deep breath to keep them at bay. “I need a fix.”
“Wow! That was fast. You’re usually good for at least a week between sessions.”
“I just had the conversation from hell with my belle-mère.”
Paula snorted. “Say no more. She’s really not good for you, you know.”
Delilah had introduced the two one day at the gym, and they clashed immediately. Paula, a.k.a. Mistress Olympia, was too self-assured for Eudora’s liking and Eudora was too haughty to be taken seriously by Paula.
“I know, but she’s the only mother I’ve ever known. I can’t just blow her off.”
Presently, Delilah heard the swish of pages turning on the other end of the line. “Hmm,” Paula said after a minute, “I’ve got a nine o’clock that might be good for you. He likes the whip. Just pretend it’s your stepmother.”
Delilah ran the pad of her finger over her bottom lip. “When is this particular type of assertiveness training supposed to start seeping into my real life situations? I’ve been doing it for three months now, and even though I enjoy the work, it hasn’t made me strong enough to stand up to her once she starts in on me.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Delilah. I’ve seen some real improvement in how you handle yourself with others since you began this thing. But it’s always hardest to change our behavior towards those we’re closest to. There’s a groove that gets set early on and moving outside it is harder than keeping pounds off. Baby steps. That’s the best advice I can give you at this point.”
Delilah nodded, even though she knew Paula couldn’t see her. “Okay. Thanks. You’ve been great. I guess I’ll see you this evening then.”
After hanging up with Paula, Delilah poured herself another glass of wine and ran a bubble bath.
Her day, which had started out with such exuberance and promise, had quickly turned ugly and hollow with her stepmother’s wrath.
Delilah sighed. Why had she ever thought the news of her engagement to Chas would please the woman? What would it take, Delilah wondered, to prove her own intrinsic worth?
* * *
At seven-fifteen, she dragged the silver metal zipper up her thigh-high red latex boot. Time to let off a little steam. But this would be the last time. She knew she couldn’t keep this secret life of hers going now that she was engaged to Chas, even if this form of assertiveness training had become a guilty pleasure for her as well. No, she’d explore her dark side one more time and then say goodbye to it for good.
She swiveled around and gauged the amount of butt crack showing between the lace-up back of the tight as seal skin latex dress she wore. Good. Just enough to give ‘em a taste without portioning a full bite. She sighed. If only her ass wasn’t so big. She smoothed her hands over the area in question and gave a Gallic shrug. Her clients didn’t seem to mind. Which, she supposed, was another reason she liked doing this. No criticism, only praise.
Her gaze flickered up and stilled on the stockbroker papers stacked on her dresser. Her shoulders drooped. It didn’t surprise her a bit that her stepmother had twisted the positive outcome of Delilah’s recent business decisions into the newest chapter in the so-called Perrault fairy legacy. Nor that she’d instantly set a course for furthering her own daughter’s chances at a blessing from the fey folk as well.
She took a deep breath and shook her head. Nope. None of that. Not tonight. She jutted her shoulders, jutted her chin, jutted herself into the proud stance expected for the coming night’s activities.
With a swift turn and a sweep of her hand, she grabbed up her riding crop and leather mask from the rose damask chaise next to her bedroom window and strode out. Her friend’s dungeon was located about twenty minutes from Delilah’s quaint 1920’s pier-and-beam house. It wouldn’t be long now before she’d once again feel in complete control.
* * *
Chas took a right turn onto one of the eclectic streets common to this part of town, where businesses and residences sat side-by-side. Old, three-story red brick houses, turned into duplexes, lined either side of this one.
It was the strangest thing. He’d been stopped at a traffic light a few minutes ago on his way home from the office when he’d seen a yellow cockatoo—the rare kind he’d first been introduced to on his trip to Australia last year—sitting on a telephone wire right in front of him. Just as the light changed, the bird flew in an arc toward his windshield and then took off. He’d followed it.
It hadn’t gone far. In fact, it stopped and waited for him to catch up to it. At least, that’s how it had seemed. Because they went through the ritual several times more before the bird finally settled on a streetlight in front of one of the houses.
He was careful when he opened his door not to make too much noise, for fear he’d scare the bird off into the stand of trees at the end of the cul-de-sac. As he approached, in steady, quiet steps, he heard a car door slam nearby and, on reflex, turned to look in that direction.
He blinked. Delilah? He shook his head to clear the shock-webs off his synapses. Dear God. It was her. In six-inch spike-heeled hot-sex boots.
He took off at a hard run. “Delilah!” She’d only managed a half-turn before he grabbed hold of her upper arm and hauled her the rest of the way around.
“Cha—!”
“What the—!”
“Chas!” She tried to wrench out of his grasp, but he only clamped down harder.
He flipped open one side of her trench coat and got an eyeful of the getup underneath. His heart did a triple beat, sending a rush of blood to his groin. Heat flamed his cheeks. Lust turned to alarm before he managed to channel it into something he could deal with: anger.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He did a quick scan of the front of the house. “Wha
t is this place, anyway? Who lives here? Are you fucking somebody?”
“No! There isn’t anyone else. I swear. Let me go, and I’ll explain everything.” Her tightly wound French twist had come undone, sending sweeps of dark sable hair over her flushed cheek and finely defined collarbone. When her rose-petal tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip as she tried again to loosen his grip, his heartbeat kicked up again. He was so zoned-in on that cherry-slice mouth of hers, in fact, that he didn’t even realize he’d dropped his hand until it bounced off his hard-on. He sucked air into his lungs in a bid to gain control over his potent physical responses to her.
“It’s truly not as bad as it looks to you.” Flustered, she bent down and picked up the riding crop from the sidewalk where it had fallen.
Which reminded him of what she wore—what she might have been up to if he hadn’t caught her. It made the momentary lust rebound back to anger. He shifted his gaze to scan the area. No one else around. Yet. Time to move it.
He shoved his hands onto his hips and jabbed his head in the direction of his Beemer. “Get in. We can talk there.”
She jerked a nod and walked in front of him toward his car. As she moved, for the first time, it registered just how easily she glided across the pavement in the heels. Yet another wave of feral anger swept across his solar plexus, clenching the muscles of his abdomen into taut, fierce, painful, fireballs.
Clearly, this wasn’t her first time in six-inch spikes.
But if he had anything to say about it—and he did—it’d damned sure be her last. At least until the deal with the creditors went through.
He yanked the car door open and pressed her inside, then jogged around the front of the car and got in himself. In seconds, he was facing her full on. “Okay, spill.”
* * *
CHAPTER THREE
Delilah moistened her lips again. She could tell that Chas was not in the frame of mind to listen to reason. To deal with her perfectly legal, really quite benign, means of coping. Even if she did know that she was risking his reputation by doing this tonight.
