Declaration to Submit

by Leeland, Jennifer

  “I’ve seen the same expression on your face when you study a company prospectus that you know we need to own,” Tony stated with a grin. “I take it she is one of the employees with the added fraternization clause.”

  “I wanted to give her something to think about,” Mark said and kept his gaze on Nell. “She’s efficient, cerebral, and very meticulous. The clause will give her the excuse to say yes when I finally charm her.” If he was successful. Doubt was not usually an emotion he dealt with too much. But to win Nell, he would have to step carefully, take his time, and not rush things.

  “I’m not sure you will,” Atticus stated. “She was extremely loyal to Ernest Dover, and you drove him into retirement.”

  “Our source was clear about Dover. He wasn’t the mastermind of the financial expenditures that weakened Sunsoon, but he helped cover it up.” Mark shook his head. “He was loyal to Victor Tourine to the last. There was no way to win him to our side.”

  “You don’t think there might be trouble?” Dimitri Caruso’s dark gaze darted around the room, keeping an eye on all the employees that dotted the tables around them. As their risk manager, he usually had a cynical viewpoint on human nature.

  “There have been some rumors,” Atticus added. “I don’t like the vibe I get from the office in L.A. The other software plants have fallen in line, given us no trouble since we kept their management intact.”

  “Los Angeles was Sunsoon’s headquarters,” Anthony said with a sharp nod. “It makes sense.”

  “I don’t know that I should take over the office there,” Mark said, his gaze still on Nell’s curves. Of all people, he should back away and let Dimitri or Atticus handle the L.A. office. His past might interfere with the reorganization.

  “This is what we’ve worked for,” Atticus said.

  “It could be dangerous,” Mark warned. Even though he’d wanted this more than any other acquisition they’d implemented, he worried that his closely held secrets could damage their reputation.

  Tony gave Mark a steady look. “We’ve discussed the possibilities. Stop worrying.”

  For a moment, Mark felt that embarrassing combination of kinship he lacked from his family. Tony was his family now. He’d looked after Mark, stood by him, and had been a good friend.

  “Look out. Ms. Armstrong is heading our way,” Atticus said and then raised an eyebrow as she wobbled on her high heels. “And I’d say she’s not entirely sober.”

  Mark stared. Nell was the most self-contained woman he’d ever met, and this was not what he was used to seeing from her. She staggered across the floor, making a beeline for their table, her gaze locked with his.

  As always, she electrified him, tempted him. Even when she met his stare, it was brief, and she would glance away, an intoxicatingly submissive action. When she stopped at their table, she addressed Atticus. “Atticus, I would like to discuss my employee agreement.”

  “Miss Armstrong, I believe you’re a little the worse for wear.” Atticus raised an eyebrow and frowned at her.

  Nell blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You think? After a few tequila shots, I have decided that I would like clarification about my contract.” She slurred the word clarification.

  Paulus started to protest again, but Mark stopped him with a raised hand. “What would you like clarified, Miss Armstrong?”

  “How exactly does an employee declare that they are available for a Dominant/submissive relationship? Officially, I mean.” Nell’s tone was filled with drunken amusement.

  “Ms. Armstrong—” Atticus started, but Nell cut him short.

  “I mean, the stip-stipulation was clear that there must be mutual consent.” She stumbled over the words. “But it wasn’t specific.”

  Mark wondered if she realized how she sounded. Amused? Yes. Also, she sounded interested, almost wistful about the possibility. He felt a thrill of satisfaction that his plan had worked and a little anxiety that she was so bluntly addressing it. “With some, we require written documentation. With others, no verbal or written declaration is required.”

  Nell blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Mark rose from his chair and stood beside her, shielding her from the crowd beyond their table “There are some who declare their availability without saying a word, Miss Armstrong.”

  He held her gaze until she lowered her head, confusion in her beautiful hazel eyes. Her voice was faint. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. Drop to your knees, Miss Armstrong.” He barked out the command, and Nell slid to her knees, her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze on his shoes.

  Fuck. It was as if she reached inside him and plucked out his favorite fantasy. He hadn’t meant to do this here and now, but she had seemed to reach out for this moment. Every tremble of her fingers and every hitch in her breath cried out for domination. His.

  He placed his hand on her head. “Do you need further proof, gentlemen?”

  All the men murmured their negative. Paulus spoke, his voice firm. “She isn’t completely coherent,” he stated. “You know the rules.”

  Mark stroked her hair and nodded. “Three days. Make the arrangements to delay my flight until Monday.”

  Suddenly, Nell lifted her head and gazed at him. “Does that mean I belong to you now?”

  Chapter Two

  Nell rubbed her temples and pushed back the twisted sheets of the king-size bed. Okay. Time to take a little inventory. She drank too much. Check. She woke up naked. Check. She couldn’t remember most of the night before. Check. And she didn’t know where her two so-called friends had gone. Check.

  Well, Nell Armstrong, you certainly covered all the bases. The only thing missing was—oh, wait. Nell glanced into the sitting room she had to pass through to escape. Right. There was the last item necessary for a fully fucked-up Vegas weekend—a naked man.

  His arm covered his face, and one bare leg dangled over the edge of the couch, but it was pretty clear he was naked. It was also clear that Nell had to get out of that room pronto.

  She suppressed a groan and did the frantic clothes search, finding her red fuck-me pumps under the bed and her bra dangling from one of the curtain rods. Her underwear was MIA. Her dress was crumpled up and tossed on the floor. What the hell had happened?

  The last thing she remembered was the leather bar. Just for a second, she thought she could smell the intoxicating mixture of latex and lace. Look what that had gotten her. Gina had plied her with tequila shots, and Tori flirted with every alpha male in the room until Nell’s head spun. There had been one man with dark brown eyes and something dangerous about him. Talking to him was Nell’s last memory.

  Shoes dangling from her fingers, without underwear, and clueless about what hotel she was in, Nell crept toward the exit and prayed she could escape and forget what she hadn’t already forgotten.

  “Don’t you want these?” A very low, sexy voice halted her progress.

  Fuck. She’d almost made it.

  She blinked and turned toward the voice coming from the couch. Sure enough, the man held up a pretty little satin thong Nell had bought for the trip. It was supposed to make her feel sexy. She tried to ignore the blazing heat in her face.

  Well, what now? Should she ask how she’d ended up here? Should she ask where the fuck she was? Nope. She was a coward and perfectly willing to admit it. At five foot nothing, she wasn’t going to intimidate anyone without her heels on, so the best thing to do was a strategic retreat.

  For a moment, though, she enjoyed the view. Six feet of oh-my-God and those dark brown eyes were enough to make her wish she could remember the night before. But the red material hanging off his fingers made her glad she’d forgotten. She whipped around and walked faster toward the exit.

  When his hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back, she yelped. “Let me go.” She hadn’t even heard him move. The man was fast on his feet.

  “No.” His voice never changed, the one word spoken quietly, confidently.

/>   Without another word, he hauled her against his naked, hard body and plundered her mouth with a familiarity that made her knees weak. She wanted to resist, to protest his manhandling, to state what an epically bad idea this had to be, but his tongue swept inside and robbed her of any coherent thought at all.

  Nell had been kissed before, even passionately kissed, but this—this was a possession, a branding. For a few pounding heartbeats, she lost herself in his touch, allowed him to sweep away her objections.

  Reality washed over her, and she tore away from him. “I don’t know what I did last night or what I said, but I’m sober this morning, and it’s time for me to leave.”

  She poured every ounce of that cold professionalism she was known to have into her tone. It should have worked. At her job as a secretary to a corporate powerhouse, she had been able to freeze interns and CEOs alike. This man didn’t seem fazed at all.

  “You’re under contract, Miss Armstrong.” And she’d thought she could freeze people with a tone. This man outclassed her in more ways than one.

  She tipped her chin. “Contracts signed under the influence are not binding Mr.—Mr.— What is your name?”

  The way his gaze traveled over her from head to toe made her tremble, but she wasn’t going to back down. Something stirred in her stomach, and she fought the desire to drop to her knees. What the hell was wrong with her? Even as she had the thought, she knew exactly what was wrong with her. Here was a man who swept away her objections, stood firm in the face of her iceberg act, and plugged into her deepest buried needs. Defiantly, she stared at him, ignoring the way her pulse accelerated.

  His smile was slow and wicked. “You were sober when you signed a contract with ConFed, weren’t you?”

  She blinked. “I signed an employee agreement.” Confused, she tried to back away from the intimidating presence of this naked person. He, however, gripped her arm and held her still.

  “Did you, in fact, read your employee agreement, Miss Armstrong?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Let me see if I can paint a picture for you,” she said and yanked against his hold. “ConFed bought Sunsoon and presented me with a choice. Sign or walk. I signed. But there is no employee agreement that I will honor that involves this kind of treatment.” She hoped he believed that lie, because even as she spoke, the fraternization clause was uppermost in her mind. She wasn’t as confident as she sounded.

  “That’s not what you said last night,” the infuriating man said with a grin.

  “Last night I was drunk.” She couldn’t even grip her high heel to knock him over the head.

  The smile disappeared. “I’m not talking about when you were drunk.”

  What? Nell sought her hazy memories for before the excessive drinking. Suddenly, the conversation at the bar came back to her.

  “Come on, Nell. You know it’s a declaration you’d love to make.”

  “You know I would.”

  Her gaze jerked to his. “I said that in private to my friends.”

  “You backed it up with action, Miss Armstrong.” He moved her farther into the sitting room. “Sit down. We can…negotiate this.”

  This? Nell was ready to scream. She sat, crossed her arms and her legs, and stared at a table lamp. Her head was pounding. She couldn’t make sense of anything. Her stomach rolled, and she wondered if she was going to throw up.

  That this was one of the upper management at ConFed was clear. A hazy memory of his presence at a table in the bar with Atticus Paulus niggled at her brain. Oh hell, he could be some crazy person.

  Did he think she was just going to sit here? She stood up, and he placed a hand on her arm. “Atticus said you’d worked for Ernest Dover for six years.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t resist when he gently urged her to sit back down.

  He picked up a pair of boxer briefs that were neatly hung over the end of the couch with his other clothes and pulled them on. They hugged his body in a way that made Nell’s mouth water. She’d wanted him dressed, his naked form too tempting, but maybe she was wrong. She tried to focus on his questions.

  His tone was casual. “You have a degree in business?”

  “From Pepperdine.” She remained perched on the edge of her seat.

  The man dressed quickly in casual slacks and a green polo shirt. His brown hair was mussed, but that only added to his appeal. He had craggy features, a term she’d never understood until she saw his rather blunt, angled bone structure. With economic movements, he even put on socks and loafers.

  He focused on a pleat of his pants. “I’ve met Professor Alyet.”

  Damn. He certainly knew how to get the heart of the matter. Had the professor told this man about her past? When he raised his head to look at her, she immediately went back to staring at the lamp. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was, she wasn’t going to…do whatever she’d agreed to do. Okay. She vaguely remembered discussing her employee agreement with Gina and Tori. She even remembered giggling about it. And the fact that the man knew her favorite professor didn’t mean a damn thing. Hadn’t she dug into the past of ConFed’s two top executives, men who shied away from the public eye? Of course they would have returned the favor. It didn’t mean anything. She pressed her lips together and prepared to rise to her feet.

  “Professor Alyet had a high regard for your business acumen,” he said.

  Nell caught the subtle implication. Professor Alyet had been her advisor and mentor during an ugly chapter in her life, one that solidified Nell’s belief in her abilities and lack of confidence in her sexual life. Her exploration of the more deviant aspects of her personality had been stunted, and this man had discovered that fact.

  “I overheard your discussion.” He leaned back and studied her. “You indicated that you would be tempted by a Dominant/submissive relationship as stipulated in the employee agreement but were unaware of how to declare yourself.” He raised his eyebrows. “Let’s just say you sought clarification.”

  She groaned. “Tell me I didn’t.”

  “You did,” the man confirmed. “Normally, if an employee declares such an intention, it isn’t public. You, unfortunately, did it at a tableful of ConFed officers.”

  Oh. Shit. This was the part she didn’t remember. “What exactly did I say?” She couldn’t look at him, her voice muffled as she hid behind her shaking hands.

  “Exactly?” He removed her hands and held up his phone. A video. Of her. Drunk.

  She forced herself to watch and bit her lip when the image showed her on her knees asking “Does that mean I belong to you now?”

  The scene was also arousing as well as completely embarrassing.

  As the video ended, Nell couldn’t control the lump in her throat or the fear in her veins. “So last night—” She tried to swallow and almost choked.

  There was a suspicious twinkle in his eyes when he answered her unspoken question. “Last night, I packed you into my car, praying you didn’t do any damage to my interior, and brought you to my hotel room. Your friends weren’t really in any condition to drive you.”

  “No. We’d arranged for a car.” Her mouth was dry.

  He lifted one eyebrow. “A wise decision since you came back to my hotel room, did a memorable strip show, and passed out.”

  She closed her eyes, wanting the floor to open up and swallow her. “But…I mean…we didn’t…did we?”

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she opened her eyes, afraid of what she would see. His gaze held hers for what seemed like a very long time. “No, Anelda. I wanted you sober when you negotiated your declaration with me.”

  They were back to where this insane conversation began. She’d laughed at something she’d only dreamed about in her fantasies.

  But this was not how she’d hoped to be…dominated. She’d wanted a relationship, a partnership, that had kink on the side. This? This was…what? She didn’t even know. Part of her was titillated, fascinated by the idea of being acquired like a hostile company. But there was a roma
ntic side that balked, that wanted so much more than play.

  She cleared her throat. “What did you mean by three days?” Oh, she knew. Though she’d said very little to her friends, she knew what was in that clause.

  “The rules are clear, and they are outlined in the fraternization clause of your employee agreement.” He gripped her chin and held her gaze. “Though I get the impression you didn’t fully understand the section regarding this aspect of your employment.”

  How wrong he was, but she wasn’t going to reveal that. “I never intended to declare anything,” she stated and licked her lips. Right? That was true, wasn’t it?

  He sighed. “The contract states that if the employee at the time of declaration is impaired or feels threatened, that the senior officer has three days to determine if the declaration is valid.”

  She wouldn’t last three minutes. Her mouth went dry with fear. How could she get out of this? Did she really want to get out of this? “So you have three days to play with me? I have no choice?”

  “You always have a choice, Nell,” he said softly.

  Right. Sure. If she didn’t want to be employed. “And if I walk out that door?”

  He took a deep breath. “You will be subject to disciplinary action. However, the only consequence you will have to deal with is your inebriation last night. Though we are not strict about employee behavior as a rule, you are here for a ConFed conference.” He shrugged. “You are well aware that the legality of that section of the agreement regarding fraternization is a slippery slope. But the section on employee behavior during company conferences is not.”

  “And if I stay?”

  His stare was hard. “You will still have to pay the consequences, but they will be between you and your new boss.”

  She blinked. “Maybe I don’t understand.”

  He pointed to himself. “Me. You asked last night if you belong to me.” He smiled. “You do. Whether it will be as a secretary or as something more remains to be seen.”

  For a moment, it all seemed reasonable, completely normal. She shook her head, trying to clear it, finding only confusion. “None of this makes any sense at all.”