by Evelyn Adams
“As I already stated for the record, Mr. Jensen, I don’t believe I can train Dominants. What my doctorate did was give me valuable insight into the hearts and desires of many women and as a result, to the men who care about them.”
I didn’t know whether she simply decided to be done being scared of me, or if she hit her stride talking about something she felt passionately about. Either way, the last remnants of her fear seemed to have burned away in the intensity of her gaze. If I wanted her when she was timid, she was magnificent nearing her full power.
“The desire to dominate and submit has become so ingrained in popular culture. It’s pervasive in books and movies. Contemporary fiction is full of examples. It was an easy step to see what people wanted, and realize there would be many of them who wouldn’t know how to get there. I help men take that final step. To learn to give their partners some of what they need. I provide a service, Mr. Jensen. One that is in increasing demand.”
She said my name, and I swallowed hard. I was supposed to be the one turning the tables on her, not the other way around. I glanced down at my notes, scrambling for a question that would give me a moment to find my footing again. In my personal and professional life, I was the one in control and I liked it that way. Hell no, I needed it that way. Nothing about this day was turning out the way I expected.
“Do you have any employees?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“But what about security?” I asked, going off script yet again. “Surely in your line of work, you must have some mechanism in place to protect you from potentially dangerous clients.” If she said no, I was going to have to sit on my hands to keep from shaking her. The idea of her inadvertently putting herself at the mercy of one of the many crazies out there made my jaw clench, and I could feel my blood pressure spike.
“I have a screening process in place before I take on a new client. If I have any reservations at all, I will subcontract security for our first session.”
“Perfect. So they have to wait until the second session to let the crazy show,” I muttered to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, forcing myself to move on to what the Dom in me and not the lawyer really wanted to know. “What does a typical session consist of?”
“I’m not sure how that’s relevant, Counselor,” said Ms. Ellis.
It probably wasn’t, but this was part of discovery and not a trial. As such, I had more leeway in my line of questioning.
“In order to understand the extent to which your client is infringing on my client’s brand, I need to establish exactly what constitutes a session with the Gentleman’s Submissive.” I was laying on the bullshit pretty thick. I knew it and I could tell by the pit bull set of Ms. Ellis’s pink lacquered lips that she knew it too. The challenge, however, seemed to have taken some of the steam out of Dr. Smithson. She straightened in her chair, looking slightly wary. Good. I wanted to know exactly what she was playing at and keeping her off-balance seemed like the best way to find out. “So tell me, Dr. Smithson, what exactly do you do during one of your sessions?”
She glanced to her attorney and then back to me, her brown eyes wide behind the inky fringe of her lashes. Her lips parted but no sound came out and when I saw her hands go white-knuckled on the arms of her chair, it was over for me. I was done.
“Perhaps you’d rather simply show me? Take me through a typical new client session. If there’s nothing illicit going on and you have nothing to hide, why not just show me?”
“That’s enough, Counselor.” I knew Ms. Ellis was objecting, but her voice barely registered.
My entire focus—every atom in my body—shifted to Alexandra and the way she sat frozen in place like a rabbit in front of a wolf. I could be a wolf. Lord knows I’d been called much worse.
“If you are so sure you know enough about the BDSM lifestyle to take men’s money to train them to be Doms, then surely you have no reason not to show me—and the court,” I added, although in that moment I couldn’t have cared less about the case or my trumped-up client. All I cared about was getting Alexandra alone and putting her through her paces. Showing her just the edge of everything she didn’t know. “I’m sure I could get Judge Black to order you to follow through as a condition of the suit.” It was utter bullshit. Judge Black was no more likely to order Alexandra to take me through a session than he was to suggest we move the trial up a month and hold it in Tahiti. But my words worked. Behind the fear in Alexandra’s gaze was a thin sliver of challenge. I’d double-dog dared her and she didn’t strike me as the kind of woman who’d let a challenge go unanswered.
“That’s enough, Mr. Jensen,” said Ms. Ellis, leaning far enough forward in her chair to put her in my line of sight and interrupt my view of Alexandra worrying her bottom lip, her small white teeth dragging against the plump, pink flesh.
“I withdraw.”
“The question? Good,” said Ms. Ellis, so angry she was practically vibrating.
I didn’t blame her. My whole line of questioning had veered completely out of line. I didn’t care. I wanted to know—no, needed to know—what was going on in Alexandra’s pretty head.
“No, I withdraw from the case,” I said, not believing the words until I heard them from my own mouth. It would be tricky, but since I’d been the one pushing for the litigation, I shouldn’t have any trouble getting Judge Black to let me off the case. There’d be hell to pay with the other partners, but it was a chance I was more than willing to take.
I RODE THE ELEVATOR TO the street level of Charlotte’s building, still shaking from the confrontation with Jensen. His hatred for me and my business felt much too personal. A feeling he’d only reinforced by withdrawing from the case. What was his deal, anyway?
I’d racked my brain, trying to remember if I’d ever had anything to do with him before the case, but I kept coming up blank. I wouldn’t forget a man like Erik Jensen. I doubted anyone would—woman or man. The man made an impression. Which still didn’t answer my questions about why he seemed to be gunning for me and what the hell he’d been thinking, making it personal.
Despite the slightly unorthodox nature of my career choice, I was proud of what I did, and I had a list of satisfied clients to prove it. Of course, until I got out from under this damn lawsuit, the list would shrivel to nothing. Before I left her office, I’d grilled Charlotte about what Jensen pulling himself off my case meant. She seemed as stunned as I was, which was saying something. Charlotte was a Titan. In her element, I’d never seen her show an emotion I wasn’t sure she’d intended to show. She’d tried to shake it off and had managed to convince me that Jensen withdrawing could only help my case, but I couldn’t tell if she meant it or if she was trying to save my nerves.
I was grateful for either, I thought, digging into my bag for another roll of the chalky fruit-flavored antacid that was my constant companion. I managed to peel the paper back on a new roll as the elevator doors slid open. Thumbing one of the discs into my mouth, I stepped out into the lobby and almost ran into Erik Jensen.
“What do you want?” I asked, moving back so quickly I almost stumbled. The last thing I wanted was to give the man another excuse to touch me.
He moved with me, closing the distance between us, the look in his eyes positively predatory.
“What the fuck’s your problem? You withdrew. As far as I’m concerned, that means we’re finished.”
Charlotte had at least been clear about that when she explained to me what it meant that Jensen had withdrawn. She’d even used words like disbar. He couldn’t possibly hate me enough to risk that. He didn’t know me.
“No, Dr. Smithson, we’re nowhere near finished.”
He reached for my elbow, attempting to steer me through the lobby. The practiced ease with which he moved made it clear he was used to doing just that. Steering. Leading. Controlling. I doubt he’d had a woman complain before. His touch was firm and commanding, and if I wasn’t so damned confused and pissed off,
I might have liked the way his strong fingers dug gently into the tender skin above my elbow. I didn’t like it—or at least I didn’t want to and that was enough. I made a show of yanking my arm out of his grip and moving away from him.
When I squared my shoulders and looked up to meet his gaze, instead of the anger or, at a minimum, irritation I expected to see, I found amusement. The smug bastard actually looked like he was laughing at me. Fuck that. I was through being treated like a child. He’d patronized the hell out of me during the interrogatories, at least before he’d gone off his rails.
“I don’t know what the hell crawled up your ass or why you’ve decided to direct your personal vendetta toward me, but you and I are done.” I lifted my chin, daring him to contradict me, and then turned back to the door outside. I’d walk away from him, catch a cab home and lose myself for the time being in the luxury of a long, hot bath. And I’d never have to talk to Erik Jensen again.
“Do you remember Kyle Sondheim, Dr. Smithson? Or has your client list grown so extensive that they all run together?”
His mocking tone when he said client made me want to punch the smug smirk off his face, but my curiosity was stronger. Kyle had been a client. When he’d come to me, he’d practically been afraid of his own shadow. We’d done a session a week for three months and by the end of our time together, he seemed like a different man. I’d been proud of the work I’d done with Kyle.
“Why do you want to know?” I asked, determined not to surrender anything to this man.
“He was a client of yours?”
He asked the question like he already knew the answer, which I didn’t doubt he did. My question was how. Client confidentiality was the foundation of what I did. I wouldn’t have a business without it. The only way he could have found out about my work with Kyle was from the man himself. And if he was half as pleased with our results as he had been at our last session, I couldn’t imagine what he could have said to Jensen to cause such animosity.
“I can’t tell you that, and you know it.”
“Ah,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Now you’ve developed some standards. Pity it’s too late.”
“You don’t know anything about me or my standards. What makes you think you’re qualified to judge me?” I spat out the words, layering them with as much disdain as I felt. I was done being lectured by this overbearing pompous asshole of a man.
He took a step closer, then another, and I forced myself to hold my ground. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making me back down.
“I am a Dom, Dr. Smithson,” he said, standing so close to me I could feel the heat radiating off his tall, hard body.
I couldn’t take a breath without being inundated by the rich, spicy scent of expensive cologne and powerful man, but I’d be damned if I let him intimidate me. Then his words cut through the fog his nearness was making of my brain and I snorted. A decidedly unladylike sound. My mother would be so disappointed.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
The flare of his nostrils was the only indication I had as to how he felt about what I’d said, but he didn’t give an inch. He simply stood, completely invading my personal space. I caved, not willing to face the intensity I saw in his gaze and hating myself a little bit for it.
“You don’t have to believe in gravity, Dr. Smithson. It simply is, regardless of your perception of it. Mr. Sondheim was a guest at a club I frequent.”
I could tell by the care he used to pick his words that there was more than he was telling me, but I wasn’t about to let myself be sidetracked.
“And your point is?” Apparently we both had secrets we needed to keep.
“It’s a BDSM club, Dr. Smithson. Mr. Sondheim was engaged in a scene with his partner and took things too far. He was calling your name as the bouncers had to physically remove him from the club, insisting that Lexi taught him what to do.”
My momentary fascination with the fact that Jensen considered himself a real Dom and frequented BDSM clubs evaporated as the rest of his words sunk in. Kyle had done something so over the line, he’d gotten himself kicked out of a club. Mouth dry and heart hammering in my throat, I asked the question I needed to know but was afraid to hear the answer.
“Was his partner hurt?” My voice sounded rough but given the sick uneasiness settling in my stomach, it was lucky I could speak at all.
“Not permanently,” he said.
The band around my chest relaxed a fraction of an inch.
“This time,” he added. “So I’m going to ask you again, Dr. Smithson, what the fuck makes you think you are qualified to teach anyone about dominance and submission, or anything else for that matter? Have you ever actually worked with a real Dom? Oh, that’s right.” He sneered at me and I felt much smaller than my five-foot-four inches. “You don’t believe there is such a thing.”
“I worked with a Dom.” I felt like a petulant child defending myself, and I hated it.
It was his turn to snort. “For how long? How long, Ms. Smithson?” he repeated when I didn’t answer.
“An afternoon,” I said and braced myself for the explosion I knew would follow.
“Fuck.” Jensen ran a hand through his dark hair. “You foolish little girl. You spent an afternoon with someone who claimed to be a Dom and believed you knew enough to teach something you don’t even believe in. Unfucking believable.”
I should have done more. I’d played voyeur at some clubs up north and gone to a couple of munches. I’d read everything I could get my hands on, from The Loving Dominant to a library’s worth of popular genre fiction, but I’d never become part of a community. I knew when I’d started an afternoon of hands-on practice wasn’t enough, but it had been hard to find someone who called himself a Dom and who actually seemed to have some idea what he was doing. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to give control over to someone else and the whole experience left me feeling very uncomfortable. After I’d started the business and hit my stride, I figured I knew enough to get the job done. My clients certainly seemed to think so.
“Take me through one of your sessions.” He somehow managed to make the rest of the lobby disappear until we were the only ones left and the only things I could concentrate on were the sound of his voice and his dark eyes pinning me in place.
“I can’t do that,” I said, giving my head a shake to try to clear it. The man was too damn much. Too big, too strong, just too there. “My clients demand confidentiality.”
“I don’t want to watch, Dr. Smithson.” The corner of his lip curved up in that sexy pirate sneer and my traitorous body decided to take notice. “Pretend I’m a client. Hell, I’ll pay you if it makes you feel better.”
I thought about Jensen on the other end of the flogger and something that felt a hell of a lot like desire wound low and warm inside me. I checked my reaction, clenching my jaw and forcing my expression into what I hoped looked neutral and not crazed. Taking the dangerous man through a session was a colossally bad idea. I opened my mouth to tell him but he interrupted before I got the no out.
“What are you scared of? If you’re so sure you know what you’re doing, taking me through a session should be a cakewalk.”
Everything from the set of his shoulders to his arched eyebrow—hell, even the way he said doctor as if it were an insult, not an honor—screamed challenge. I made it a point of pride never to back down from a challenge, but the idea of taking Jensen through one of my typical sessions made my stomach knot. Or it could completely turn the tables. He’d obviously lost his mind earlier, which meant despite his cool exterior, he wasn’t immune. And even though I’d be the one mostly naked, I’d found, with most men at least, that gave me more of the power. I’d ignore for now the fact that Jensen didn’t strike me as anything like most men.
“Come on, Dr. Smithson. I dare you.”
“You dare me? What are we, back in middle school?”
“The way you’re handling it, we may as well be. So tell me, ar
e you woman enough to show me what you do?” He stepped back, giving the illusion at least that he would abide by my choice. “Or are you going to run away and continue to play dress up like a little girl until someone really gets hurt?”
Well, hell. I’d like to think I was enough of an adult not to let myself be goaded into something as stupid as taking the arrogant attorney through a session just to save my pride, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I was responsible for what had happened to Kyle. When he’d come to see me, he seemed like such a sweet, careful man. I didn’t understand how he could have gotten things so wrong, and I hated that he thought it was because of something he’d learned from me. I wouldn’t forgive myself if it happened again and someone else got hurt. I couldn’t let that happen. Which meant taking on Jensen. Fuck.
“Fine,” I said, regretting the word as soon as it left my mouth. “We can set up an appointment for one session.”
His expression turned triumphant and for a second, I felt like a gazelle negotiating with a tiger.
“Our appointment is in twenty minutes,” he said, taking my arm again and moving me through the doors and out onto the street. “I’m not giving you a chance to come up with some kind of bullshit excuse.”
The driver got out of a black town car parked in front of the building and opened the door for me.
“Where to, Mr. Jensen?” he asked, tipping his hat to the marauder in a designer suit behind me.
“Wherever the lady says.”
