Temptation
Copyright © 2014 Christine Elliott
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
*****
Serena bit her lip as she walked into the office, her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floors. She hated heels. Of course, she also hated offices, expensive jewelry like the pearl earrings she wore, and skimpy black dresses like the one she had slung on mere minutes ago. But these were the terms of the agreement, and she couldn’t back out now.
For some reason, that thrilled her. Though the thrill only barely pierced through the thick veil of terror that was slowly falling down on her.
Her jewelry clicked and tinkled against itself as she marched into the office building, a bit surprised as the titanic glass doors were opened for her by men in black suits. The office was absolutely massive, all of it glass and marble and sleek silvery metal, and the more time Serena spent here, the more she worried she had made a mistake. She kept her head down and stopped biting her lip. No need to ruin the lipstick of the first professional makeover she’d ever been given. Especially not when she was about to meet him.
“And you are?” asked the secretary at the front desk. She slit her eyes at Serena, somewhere between suspicion and coma-level boredom.
“Um, Ms. Nicoletti. To see Mr. Valentine Marquette.”
The secretary’s blue eyes popped open, and her pen slipped from her perfectly manicured fingers. Serena flinched, now aware that everyone in the office—at least twenty people, Jesus—were now watching her like the freak show she was. She tipped her chin up as the secretary composed herself.
“Of course,” said the secretary coolly. She began scribbling on a small pass printed on cream paper. “Mr. Marquette said he was expecting you.”
Really? thought Serena. Thought he would have kept the bedroom and the office separate.
Then again, you never knew. Maybe he was one of those eccentric billionaires you read about in the paper. Oh God, what if they all knew? What if they all knew exactly why she was here? Crimson crept into her cheeks.
The secretary handed her the cream paper, and Serena’s eyes widened at its weight and luxurious texture. “Walk down that hallway,” the secretary said, pointing to the left, “and then take the hall with the ‘Executive Division’ sign. Knock, and Mr. Marquette will let you know when you can come in.”
The secretary gave Serena a dazzling smile about as genuine as her breasts. Serena managed a tiny smile back, though it was hard to tell if the secretary bought it. It was hard to tell anything with her heart beating so loudly in her chest.
You can do this, Serena told herself as she walked down the hall. You made it through the first call, the interview, the contract signing…. You can’t back out now.
Of course, when she had first seen the ad, it had seemed exciting and fun. Something dangerous and thrilling for a girl whose most daring act had been shoplifting a lipstick once in high school. And how couldn’t she be interested, especially when it had been so mysterious? She remembered it now:
PROFESSIONAL DOM SEEKS SUB—
Master seeks young woman for sexual slavery agreement, contracted for three months. Includes bondage, BDSM, and kink to be agreed upon at time of contract signing.
You know you want to.
That was what had gotten her, wasn’t it? You know you want to. And the things listed—bondage, BDSM, kink? Just strange enough to get her curious, just filthy enough to hook her. And, of course, the best part, located conveniently at the bottom:
Pay: $500,000 USD
How could she turn that down? And fuck, she needed it. God knows her student loans weren’t going to pay for themselves. But more importantly, Harry needed it. Stupid, stupid Harry, who had to get involved with the mob, who had to get himself kidnapped, who had to be the stupid brother she’d do anything for. And so here she was, about to meet her new master, who, surprise, was apparently also one of the richest billionaires in the world. Even now, walking down the hallway to her fate, it didn’t seem real. She must be dreaming. Right?
She reached the door, a massive thing of dark wood looking like the gateway to hell. She swallowed hard, looking up at the golden plaque above it:
VALENTINE MARQUETTE
No business description, despite the fact that he owned this building along with half of Manhattan, and even more in his home country. No professional title, despite the fact that Serena’s obsessive googling had revealed the man held two Ph.D.s. Not even a title like “Mr.” He was too famous for that, she guessed. Everyone knew who you were talking about when you said the name Marquette, or even just his first name: Val, short for Valentine. First name famous. He was like Madonna.
Serena choked on a nervous giggle at that. Oh God, she had to calm herself. With her luck, she’d be laughing hysterically half way through meeting him and be fired on the spot. And she couldn’t risk that. Harry needed her.
Reluctantly, she reached forward and knocked on the door. She waited a few seconds, growing paranoid. Maybe she hadn’t knocked loud enough? But would it be too awkward to keep knocking? Maybe she should just run away now… Yes! That’s it, she should run away! She had to, it was—
“Come in,” said a deep voice from beyond the door.
Serena held her breath and turned the doorknob, trying desperately to slow her heartbeat as she stepped into her new master’s office. What she saw when she entered she could have never prepared for.
Mr. Marquette’s personal office was absolutely massive, with a towering glass ceiling that must have been two, maybe three stories up. Serena’s gaze raked over the room, taking in the dark leather furniture, the cherrywood bookcases and desks, the gold accents and endless plaques and awards that lined the walls. For a moment, she forget what she was there for. She just wanted to watch the room forever. It was gorgeous.
Someone from behind the desk cleared his throat. Serena’s heart stopped as the world fell down on her.
Reclining behind the desk was a tall man with light good looks, the kind you would expect from a quarterback or the boy next door. A strong chin, golden locks, and clear blue eyes like her mother’s turquoise jewelry. He appraised her from his seat, his arms folded across his chest, impeccably dressed in his dark silk suit. Her gaze traveled to the buttons straining against a muscled chest, but she immediately chastised herself.
Serena clasped her hands together and kept her gaze down, intently watching the swirling designs of the scarlet colored carpet. After a few moments, the man behind on the desk cleared his throat. Serena glanced up at him.
“Are you here for something, or…?” He looked genuinely perplexed, raising an eyebrow and fingering his watch awkwardly. He walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back on it, watching her with a mix of curiosity and confusion. Somehow it emboldened her, to see him just as unsure of himself as she was.
“I’m Serena,” she mumbled.
“Screamer?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “That’s a bit forward.”
Her cheeks blazed red, but she tipped her chin up.
“I said I’m Serena. Serena Nicoletti.”
“Serena? Lovely name, quite lovely. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“I’m answering your ad.”
“Ad?”
“In the Sunday Examiner?” she said, her voice getting hoarse out of embarrassment. And also desperation. Why couldn’t he just get to the point and re
member her? “You sent out the ad looking for a vi—a woman to hire? I went through the interview process and the contracting. You had your secretaries tell me to visit today at three, that you wanted to meet me today? To, erm, complete our agreement?”
He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it. Serena watched as he leaned back and a playful smile grew on his face. Oh God, what was he thinking? He probably thought she was an idiot. Maybe he had been teasing her.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Nicoletti.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re here for the sexual submission job?”
“I—well—erm—”
He held up a hand, stopping her. “No need, Ms. Nicoletti. I understand. But like I said, I’m sorry.”
Some other girl had gotten the job, she realized. It was the only answer. Her heart sank, though she wasn’t sure why.
“I understand.”
He chuckled amiably. “No, no, no. I mean I’m sorry … because I’m not Val.”
“What?”
“I’m not Val. Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to a leather couch to their side. She took a seat, keeping her hands clasped in her lap and trying to work out what was happening. He poured some kind of amber alcohol into two crystal glasses as she watched with wide eyes, scrambling to remember which drink was the amber one—bourbon, maybe? Scotch? She didn’t even drink. She was so out of her league here.
“So you’re here about the sub job,” he chuckled. “Well, that’s quite interesting.” He offered her a glass but she shook her head. He shrugged and poured its contents into his. “Never seen him send one straight to his office. That’s a great honor, Ms. Nicoletti. He must really like you, then?”
“I … I don’t know. I’ve never met him. You think he likes me?”
“Never met him?” He furrowed his brow. “That’s … interesting. Even the girls he’d been seeing for months never came here.” He shrugged. “Or he’s going crazy. I always told him he was going crazy. Ridiculous old man.”
“Old?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, he’s about my age. Though two weeks older, he never refrains from reminding me,” he grumbled.
“You’re close then?”
“Of course, closer than brothers.” He downed his drink. “But this isn’t about me, Ms. Nicoletti, is it? Strange you haven’t met him. Do you have any idea what you’re in for?”
“No,” she breathed.
He grinned. “Don’t worry. Val is a good Dom, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never met a sub of his who didn’t love him.”
“So there have been a lot?”
“Oh, not too many,” he said thoughtfully. “Fifteen, sixteen maybe. Seventeen if you count Olivia. Though I don’t.” He paused, then gave her an mischievous grin. “Have you ever played with a master? I’m sure Val will love to break you in.”
“I don’t … I don’t know….”
He shrugged. “It’s your choice. Being a sub is all about total submission, not force. If you don’t want to be here, don’t be here. Val doesn’t want someone who doesn’t want to do this. But when you do want to do this, he’ll be all over you.”
Her heart beat fast and hard against her chest. Was she really ready for this? Was she really going to go through with it? Did she really want it?
Something dark and sinful inside her ran a finger down her back and whispered into her hear: Yes.
“So, say,” he said, setting down his glass with a loud thump. “Let’s get you two lovebirds together, alright? I’ll go find Val and tell him his new paramour is here. Damn workaholic needs a break anyway. And I don’t want to be rude and waste your time, especially someone so pretty as you.”
Serena ignored that last bit and nodded. “Thank you, that would be very helpful....”
“Jacques,” he said smoothly. “Jacques Lepin. Now sit tight, I’ll be back with your new boy toy in a few moments.”
Serena mulled over the strangeness of the whole day so far as Jacques walked down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Val will love to break you in. It should have scared her, so why did the idea of that thrill her instead?
Only a few moments later, Jacques returned, his grin even more mischievous. It made Serena both uneasy and excited.
“He’ll be here in a few. He’s quite happy you’re here.”
“Oh good,” she breathed, immediately mortified when she realized she had said that out loud. Jacques just chuckled and gave her a gentlemanly bow.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Ms. Nicoletti,” Jacques said, his gaze even and dark as it settled on her. “But I think it’s time I let you and Val get to know each other.”
He winked at her. “Good luck, Screamer.”
Jacques left, and she heard him call to someone something that sounded like ‘She’s here.’ She steeled herself and sat up straight as the footsteps approached, marching down the hall as loud and powerful as thunder. Please let him like me, Serena willed to no one in particular.
Her new master entered the room, sweeping in with an aura of power that nearly knocked Serena over. He was even taller than Jacques, built as strong and imposing as the office, with dark looks to contrast Jacques’ boyish blond ones. His thin lips were pursed, and his green eyes gazed ahead like an emperor surveying his conquered city. He turned to her when she stood up from her seat, his dark hair framing the sharp contours of his face. The ghost of a smirk haunted his smile.
“Good morning, Ms. Nicoletti. I’m Val Marquette.”
*****
“Good morning, Ms. Nicoletti,” Val said, his voice as dark and rich as chocolate. Serena’s mouth would have watered at it if she hadn’t been petrified again. Inside, she screamed at herself. Why was she so apprehensive? He liked her, Jacques had said it himself! She had made it through the interviews, hadn’t she? She had made it straight to his office. She deserved this, so why was her heart beating so fast?
“You’ll excuse me for my tardiness,” he said with a genuinely apologetic tone. “Running this business can make me a bit obsessive. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to everything I do. As I’m sure Mr. Lepin mentioned.”
“He said something about it,” she murmured.
“And when I say everything, I do mean everything,” Val continued. “Including my private life.”
Serena bit her lip.
“Which is why you’re here,” Val finished, leaning against the desk much like Jacques had. Serena supposed they really were close—they even leaned like each other. “So tell me, Ms. Nicoletti. Why did you answer my advertisement?”
Serena took a deep breath.
“Like I said in my interview, Mr. Marquette, I meet all the qualifications. I don’t have any big attachments, I’m free for the next free months, I’m willing to do whatever is asked of me. And I’m … inexperienced,” she ended, unable to say it. Virgin. It was one of her great shames, to be a twenty-something virgin. At least now she could cash in on it.
His eyes lit up.
“Good.”
“Good?”
He leaned forward, so close to her that their noses almost touched. She had the mad desire to lean forward and kiss him but pinched her hand viciously to snap her back to reality.
“Yes, good. I like to teach,” he breathed.
“Teach,” she echoed. The air in the room had suddenly gotten very hot and very hard to breath in.
He reached out one hand and traced her jawline with it. Serena relished how long and slender it was. She began wondering what else he could do with it. “Yes, teach. I love opening minds to the darkness within them. Do you understand what I mean, Ms. Nicoletti?”
“Yes,” she breathed, unable to stop herself. It was as if he was drawing her breath out by sheer force of will.
Suddenly, he pulled back, all business again. Serena caught her breath as he walked back around to his desk and pulled out a sleek black binder. Out of it, he pulled the contract she had signed last week. “I see we have our papers in order, the
n,” he said, flipping through them. “You understand what is expected of you and what is expected of me in return?”
“Yes.”
“And you understand that you will not receive your payment until the end of the three months? You’re fine with that?”
“Yes,” she said. She felt ridiculous and simpleminded, only able to say small words like yes and no. She had the sudden, crazy urge to add, I trust you, but shut her mouth. That was stupid. She barely knew him.
“Let’s go through our terms again, then,” he said, turning on his heel and marching back to her. Her gaze wandered back to his chest, where the perfectly tailored shirt strained a bit against his muscled chest. Those buttons were holding on for dear life. She darted her gaze away before he could notice.
“First,” he said, reading off the page, pacing around the room, “this is an agreement between the Dominant, Valentine Marquette, and the submissive, Serena Nicoletti. Both parties consent of their own free will to the terms of this agreement. After the signing of this contract, the submissive agrees to give herself over totally into sexual slavery and submission to the Dominant, with the promise of care and good stewardship by the Dominant. This arrangement shall last three months.”
He walked around the desk, leaning forward on it, and Serena’s eyes locked on the muscles of his arm.
“Does that sound right, Serena?”
She lowered her gaze, keeping it on the clasped hands in her lap. “Yes.”
“Second,” he continued, just as formally, “there are our limits, of course, I’m glad to see we agreed about them.” Serena shuddered. She had never heard of most of the things on those limits lists, but she was very glad she was able to opt out of things like ‘tit torture’ and ‘needle play.’ And she was especially glad that he wasn’t interested in them either.
“And then, third, the practicalities. I’ll be feeding and housing you, of course. As long as you are my slave, you’ll be kept in my home. I believe you’ll find your living quarters quite comfortable, but we’ll get to that later when you arrive.
Temptation: a billionaire erotic romance Page 1
