by Maggie Ryan
After spending a quiet moment considering me, Deo’s voice was amused as he spoke. “Oh, my dear, I think you do know. After all, we discussed the very issue last night.” His hand reached out to run along the table, swiping across the surface slowly before it stilled, fingers splayed in the center before he gave the polished wood a single slap that had me jumping in my seat. “Do I need to bend you over this table, to remind you of exactly how I view dishonesty?”
“You wouldn’t!” I blurted out. A flash of the image of my bare bottom on display for the entire restaurant went through my mind.
Eyeing the patrons of the restaurant, Deo said, “I keep my promises and take my responsibilities to heart. Let me make it abundantly clear, my dear. You will be punished whenever and wherever I deem it necessary be it at home or in front of our fellow diners. Understand?”
It took every ounce of self-control not to squirm at his words—words I knew beyond a doubt were spoken in truth. I was stubborn and headstrong, but I wasn’t foolish. I knew when it was time to close my case without further argument. With a nod, I relented. “Yes, sir. Whatever you think is best.”
“Good girl,” Deo said with a smile, taking my napkin from me to tuck it into my lap. “I see our little discipline session is working already.”
“Little? I still can’t sit comfortably,” I muttered.
“Then I did a proper job,” Deo growled, the sound of absolute confidence causing me to lose the battle and fidget in my seat. “You’ve discovered that a tender, hot ass is a very good incentive to behave.”
Of course, the waiter showed up with food just in time to catch this last exchange. Carefully putting our plates down, the waiter eyed me curiously. If I didn’t die of sexual frustration, I was positive I would die of embarrassment.
Deo’s smile was self-satisfied. He knew how much I wanted him—he could probably smell it on me. Overwhelmed by carnal desire, I tried to gather myself. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. They popped back open wide when something cool and metallic was pressed into my hand.
With my fork securely transferred, he said, “I hope you don’t mind. I ordered for us from the car.”
I wanted to give a smart remark. But my bottom was still sore, and Deo was already peeved off by Andrew. I didn’t want to risk being turned over his knee in the middle of the busy pub. And, he was right. He’d done an exemplary job. The memory of every moment, both those of pain and pleasure ran through me.
“Eat,” Deo commanded. “You need your strength.” Deo ate a few bites of his fish, then leaning toward me, his brow furrowed, he said, “Promise me, Cassandra.”
“What?”
“Promise me you will remain faithful to our vows.” His deep voice was wrought with emotion.
My husband was so intense, taking in the world as if it were a constant battle. “Why do you take these vows so seriously, Deo? It’s just tradition, for crying out loud.”
Quickly and discreetly, Deo slid his hand from my face and grabbed the back of my neck under my hair, pulling my ear to his mouth. “You are my wife. And our marriage is a sacred union that you will treat with respect. Or, you will be crying out loud.” Turning my face to his, Deo pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was the same punishing one from last night, bruising my lips and lighting another part of me on fire all at once. Deo released me, a look of dominance crossing his face as he watched the flush rise in my cheeks.
I felt like a dog in heat. My bottom sore against the seat, the back of my neck tingling from his grasp, my lips abused by his love. Whatever had come over Deo was making me want him more than ever before. I was hungry to taste his power and feel his possession.
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“I promise, Deo.”
Deo analyzed my face, searching for the truth. Finally satisfied, he gave a small nod. “Finish your lunch, please.”
* * *
We’d finished our meal, but the dishes had not yet been cleared, when a soft ringing sounded.
“Excuse me,” Deo said, a look of displeasure flashing over his face as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.
“Of course,” I said though he’d already slid from the booth and had stepped away. I knew he thought it extremely rude to answer a phone or look at a tablet when having a meal with another person. The closest he’d ever come to breaking that rule was when he’d read the morning paper—until now. It didn’t truly matter that I could hear part of the conversation; Deo was speaking in Greek, far too quickly for me to even attempt to decipher the few words of the language I knew. After a few minutes, he glanced at me, his look intense as he continued to speak—this time in a tone that reminded me of last night, one that was not to be questioned or denied. Finally, he nodded and ended the call.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he offered his hand, helping me from the booth. “Yes, though I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet you for lunch tomorrow,” he said, holding my coat open to allow me to slip my arms inside. “I have to be away for a few days.”
As the head of a highly successful finance company, Deo’s presence was often in demand. While I was accustomed to him traveling, this time was different. My stomach fell in disappointment. I’d hoped to spend the night cradled in his arms—after experiencing the bliss I had last night. “How long will you be gone?”
His fingers worked to slip buttons of my coat into their holes and then to pull the belt around me, tying it around my waist. “As short a time as possible,” he said, moving his hands to cup my face. “Believe me, I’d much rather stay here with you.”
“Me too,” I said, pleased with his words. He dropped several bills on the table and then took my hand, leading me out of the pub.
“I’ll call you tonight,” he said, a hand behind my head as he bent down to kiss me. It was searing, demanding, a kiss that had every cell in my body coming alive. When he pulled away, it was only a fraction. “Behave yourself.”
Though he didn’t say more, something told me that even with him away, he’d know if I didn’t. “I will,” I said instead. “Hurry back.”
I watched as he climbed into the back of a sleek black car that pulled up to the curb. With a final wave, I turned to walk the few blocks back to my office. At the corner, waiting for the light to change, I looked over my shoulder, wondering if the car had yet to pull away. Not seeing it, I shook my head, stepping off the curb with the others waiting to cross the street. Get a grip, girl. No one is watching you. I smiled as that inner voice felt it necessary to add, though I suggest you do be that good girl you promised to be.
Chapter Four
Cassandra
Three days later, I hurried, head down against the wind toward the door to my building. With Cynthia booked, and both Andrew and Deo out of town, I’d not taken a true lunch break in days. Going a bit stir crazy, I had stepped out to the Starbucks on the corner for a caffeine fix. Holding my caramel macchiato in one hand, I reached for the door with the other. It opened from within, someone holding it wide for me.
“Thank you,” I murmured, brushing past the figure.
“You’re welcome.”
I looked up, recognizing the familiar friendly voice. “Andrew! Hi. When did you get back?”
“Last night,” he said, giving me a long look. “Cassandra, you look even more frazzled than you did at Hibernia. What the hell is going on? What was your husband doing at the pub the other day?”
“Gee, thanks,” I joked, my mind racing. I’d had three long days to try to sort out my feelings about the new dynamic of my marriage. Three days in which the only real conclusion I’d come to was that I missed my husband far more than I ever had before.
“I’m sorry,” he said, moving with me across the lobby floor toward the bank of elevators. “I’m just worried about you.”
His concern was evident, and I was touched. “You don’t need to be. He just wanted to have lunch with me… surprise me.”
“He seemed upset.” Andrew studied my face, obviously not ready to let it go.
“I think he was just a little taken off guard that his wife was dining with another man. He can be a little archaic at times,” I said, giving a nervous laugh.
Andrew hesitated before locking gazes with me and replying, “Forgive me if I overstep my bounds but Deo didn’t only seem upset. He seemed almost… dangerous.”
Clearing my throat nervously, I brushed at the air with my hands. “He just missed me. We’ve both been super busy lately.” I jabbed the call button a few times, as if that would speed its arrival. There was no way I could explain my suddenly complicated marriage to Andrew, nor did I want to.
The bell gave its polite ‘ding’, the silver doors gliding open. We stepped inside. Alone with Andrew in the elevator, I pushed the lighted number three for our floor, hoping the awkward conversation was over. It wasn’t. The moment the doors slid closed and the elevator began to rise, Andrew pressed for more details. “Are you guys, like, okay at home?”
“What are you implying?”
“I mean, he wouldn’t hurt you because he was jealous, or something, would he?”
I had to smile to myself even as I felt my face heat. Deo taking me over his knee and spanking my bare behind until I was a blubbering mess, then fucking me until I was begging to come probably wasn’t exactly what Andrew had in mind when he asked the question.
“Andrew, I appreciate your concern, but I promise, everything’s good.”
The elevator doors opened, and I was released. As I walked away, Andrew grabbed my arm, turning me toward him.
“Cass, wait.”
I looked up at the genuine concern in those innocent blue eyes.
“I care about you. Just promise me you’ll tell me if you ever need help.” His hand lingered, still holding me.
I needed to proceed with caution. “Andrew, you’re a good friend,” I said, trying to place the emphasis on the word ‘friend’, glancing down meaningfully at his grasp of my arm. “But Deo is my husband and I love him. He’d never hurt me.”
Andrew awkwardly released me. “Of course,” he mumbled.
I gave him my sweetest ‘everything’s wonderful’ smile and walked quickly toward the sleek glass doors of Parker, Anderson, and Roe. Entering ahead of Andrew, I walked toward my office, nodding to Debbi at reception.
Though she was on the phone, she gave me the usual smile and wave. Then with a wink, she covered the receiver with one hand, whispering, “Someone’s in your office. A super hunk.”
I thanked her and continued down the hall. My two o’clock must be early. Rounding the corner, I was in view of the glass windows of my office. I was surprised to see that instead of sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of my desk, the client was standing behind it, appearing to be admiring my awards hanging on the wall or placed on the bookshelves.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, entering the room and closing the door behind me. My breath caught in my throat when the man turned to me. His eyes were light green, a shade I’ve never seen, like bottle glass. His shoulder-length light brown hair was the same color as the stubble that ran along his jawline. Slighter in build, he shared the chiseled look of my husband.
“Cassandra.” A smile spread across his lean face, revealing straight white teeth. He spoke as if we were family, with an accent like Deo’s, only thicker.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked, trying to hold myself together in this handsome stranger’s presence.
“Deo sent me.” The man picked up my small globe made of gemstones that sat on a shelf and casually tossed it back and forth between his hands.
Deo hadn’t said anything about sending someone to my office when he’d called me last night. “For what, exactly?”
“To talk.”
“Why didn’t he send Alekos?” The few times Deo had needed something from me, a form, a copy of some file or document from the firm, he had always sent his jovial younger brother, Alekos.
The smile dropped from the man’s face. His brow creased over his jade eyes. “Because Alekos can take ‘no’ for an answer. I will not.” Walking away from me, the man leaned his panther-like body against the desk.
Though his words were cryptic, the body language was clear. He was here for something I would not want to give, and he was not leaving without it.
“Can you draw the blinds for privacy?” he asked, gesturing at the large windows that looked out into the main office. I could see Debbi peeking around the corner, helping herself to another piece of eye candy.
Nervously, I gave my secretary a small wave and a tight-lipped smile. Giving me a thumbs up, she disappeared down the hall. Not exactly sure why I was acquiescing to this man’s request, I pulled on the cord of the blinds, bringing them down to cover the glass. Why on Earth would I need privacy with this man whom Deo had sent?
Completing the task, I turned back to him. “Privacy,” I said, waving at the covered windows.
Setting the small orb down, the stranger pushed away from the desk and held his hand out to me. “You may call me Baal. My name is Balthazar. It means ‘protect the king’.”
Shaking his hand, my temper flared. “What is it with you Greeks, always saying what your name means when you introduce yourselves? The first time Deo walked into this office, he did the same egomaniacal thing.”
I still remembered the feel of Deo’s rock-hard hand in mine. My name is Deo. The Greek meaning, ‘godlike’. He had given me a handsome smile and told me his finance firm was looking for a good lawyer and that my name had been brought up as one of the sharpest minds in New Jersey. The first time I’d met Alekos he’d said, Alekos, ‘defender of mankind,’ at your service. Though Alekos had given his introduction with a saucy wink, I still didn’t understand this tradition.
“Only to you, Cassandra.” Baal’s green eyes bored into mine, seeming to try to pull understanding from my mind.
“Why only me?”
“Because you’re special. Have you ever wondered about the meaning of your own name?” Baal casually took a seat in my chair. I moved from the window, standing before him, in front of the desk. His eyes locked on mine. “Unheeded prophetess, daughter of King Priam.”
“Yes. And I’ve read The Iliad. Cassandra predicted the fall of Troy and the death of Agamemnon. Her warnings went unheeded. She was the most beautiful of Priam’s daughters, but not truly a prophetess,” I corrected him. “Meanings of names can be inaccurate.”
“You know your history,” Baal said, looking impressed. “Though I would expect nothing less than brilliance from any woman Deo would pledge his life to.” Baal’s eyes roved over me.
He stood, walking a slow circle around the desk. His nearness caused my spine to stiffen as he wandered around to me, appraising me, stopping just inches from where I stood. Nervous, I took a step away.
He smiled, but didn’t give me an inch of quarter. “But you are not Greek. Why were you given such a strong Greek name?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
The Irish blood that ran through my body I blamed for my temper. I was green-eyed and had auburn hair with hints of red and gold, my skin was pale—porcelain as Deo referred to it. Nothing about me looked Mediterranean. “My parents were obsessed with mythology, The Iliad, The Odyssey, the Trojan War. They were both historians.”
“Were?”
“Yes. I lost them both, at once, before I met Deo.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Baal turned away from me and walked back to the shelves that lined the far wall.
“Why are you here?” I asked, unable to hide my sudden annoyance. Good looking or not, Balthazar was grating at my nerves, seeming so comfortable in my office, asking questions, touching my personal belongings.
From the floor beside him, Baal lifted an empty gray duffle bag I did not recognize. “You must fill this with everything associated with the Ambrosia account as well as anything you wish to keep, then we must leav
e, without raising any suspicions. Begin immediately. I have brought paper to wrap any delicate items.” Dropping the bag at my feet, Baal slid back into my desk chair to watch.
“How thoughtful of you to bring paper when you demand that I gather my things and leave my place of work immediately, with absolutely no explanation whatsoever.” My heated words gushed from my lips.
“You’re welcome,” he said, ignoring my sarcasm. Gesturing at the bag, he said, “Deo said to be quick about it.”
Remembering Deo’s comment about my naiveté the other day, I shook my head. “Not so fast. Granted, you do look Greek and you are definitely bossy, but how do I know Deo actually sent you?” I asked suspiciously.
The twinkle in Baal’s eyes was unmistakable. He was laughing at me. Wordlessly, Baal held up his wrist. Glinting under the florescent lights, I saw Deo’s chain bracelet, the heavy platinum links dangling.
Seeing the recognition in my eyes, Baal smiled. “Start packing, please, Cassandra, daughter of Priam.” Picking up my globe again, he began to roll it back and forth between his palms, never taking his eyes from me.
Should I run; should I scream? I needed a moment to think. Though the bracelet confirmed that my husband had sent Baal, I had no idea why. Was Deo in trouble? I couldn’t imagine this man overpowering Deo. Was Cynthia onto something with her mob theory? I needed to gather more information before I just wandered out of the building with this infuriating Greek god.
“What about my job?” I asked, stalling.
“You work exclusively for Deo, now.”
Of course. I’d threatened to leave Deo. Now he was trying to gain control of every aspect of my life. Meeting me for lunch, taking away my job. ‘Protecting’ what was his. Maintaining my composure, I continued my line of questioning.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tried to look threatening. “And what makes my husband think that I will be agreeable working solely for him?”
Sliding his hand beneath his jacket’s lapel, he pulled out a white envelope that looked like the one Deo had thrown on his desk that night. Baal held it up and waved it toward me.
