by Nikki Chase
The only secret I can think of, the only strange thing that has happened recently, has to do with this sudden lunchtime meeting .
Who’s Bertha Jones ?
Sure, I’ve discovered some facts about her from my private investigator, but facts and figures rarely tell the whole story. I already have her address, though, so now it’s just a matter of paying her a visit .
Bertha Jones has been living in the small town of Ashbourne for the last forty years, so she can’t be one of Pop’s recent lovers. He doesn’t tell me much about his affairs, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d get into a long-distance affair .
Bertha Jones’ life seems boring on the surface, except for two things .
One, she has a dead stripper for a daughter. The daughter was killed by her boyfriend, a piece-of-shit owner of the strip club where she worked .
Word on the street was, the guy was hell-bent on going after the girl who’d ratted him out, as well as Bertha Jones. So, we paid his posse a little visit and gave them a strongly worded warning to stay away from both women .
Two, Bertha Jones seems to have no past before moving to Ashbourne four decades ago. There are no records of her early twenties, her teenage years, or her childhood .
What secret is Pop hiding, and who is this mysterious woman ?
Daisy
T he doorbell rings, and I jump from the shock. In all the days that I’ve been here, I haven’t heard the doorbell ring even once .
Maybe I can pretend I’m not home? I don’t know what’s waiting for me behind that door. I’ve also never discussed this with Caine. I just assumed nobody ever visits him .
But it could just be something super normal like the UPS delivery guy, in which case there’s probably no harm opening the door and Caine probably expects me to behave like a normal, sane person and just let the guy in .
I tiptoe toward the front door, trying to stay quiet as I pad across the cool marble floor. I line up my right eye with the peephole and focus .
It’s a guy in a business suit. An expensive business suit. So, definitely not the UPS guy .
He has short, light-brown hair and thin lips. I’d say he’s about Caine’s age, so probably in his mid-thirties. He’s good looking, I guess. Well dressed. I’d probably stare for a while if I saw him at the mall .
Maybe he’s one of Caine’s business associates ?
“Can you open the door already?” The guy runs his fingers through his thick hair. He heaves an impatient sigh .
I freeze. Could he have heard my footsteps ?
“You’re casting a shadow through the peephole,” he says .
That explains it. I guess I have no choice now but to at least talk to him .
“Caine’s not home,” I finally say. My heart is beating fast. I’m not supposed to talk to anyone, but I don’t know if this counts as breaking one of Caine’s rules and I don’t want to risk it. I hope this guy will just go away .
He smiles into the peephole. “I’m his cousin, Todd. I’m sure Caine has mentioned me .”
“Not really,” I say. Caine hasn’t told me anything personal about himself, much less the name of his cousin .
“Could you let me in so I can use the bathroom? I need to pee really bad .”
I hesitate. This should be fine, right ?
Caine’s cousin drops by to visit and he just happens to be out. Completely normal. So, a normal reaction would be to let him in .
“Please?” Todd puts his palms together and smiles. “I promise I won’t bite .”
With a knot of anxiety in my stomach, I unlock the door and slowly pull it open .
“Thanks.” Todd extends a friendly hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Todd, Caine’s cousin .”
“Daisy,” I say as I shake Todd’s hand and return his smile. I don’t offer any more information about myself, though. The less people know about my connection to Caine, the easier it will be for me to leave this phase of my life in the past .
“Nice to meet you, Daisy .”
“Nice to meet you, too .”
“Caine has never mentioned having a beautiful girl in his apartment .”
“He’s never mentioned having a cousin either. When does he ever tell anyone anything?” I laugh nervously. I get the vibe that Caine doesn’t open up to anybody, but I’m screwed if it turns out it’s just me he’s acting all mysterious with .
“You have a point.” Todd grins, showing off his pearly white teeth .
“Um, the bathroom is — ”
“I know where it is,” Todd says before I can finish my sentence .
Of course. He’s obviously been here before, so he knows where everything is .
He walks straight toward Caine’s bedroom door, his shiny leather loafers echoing with every step. I’m about to redirect him to the bathroom when he looks at me over his shoulder and says, “I prefer the ensuite bathroom. It’s bigger.” He winks and disappears into Caine’s bedroom .
Shit. I hope Caine doesn’t mind .
Sure, I’ve been a little nosy, going through Caine’s drawers and cabinets. The agreement doesn’t say much about what I can and can’t do inside the apartment, but I’ve stayed away from Caine’s bedroom out of respect because that’s personal space .
Before long, there’s the faint sound of flushing and Todd emerges from Caine’s bedroom. I smile, relieved this is almost over .
“Thanks for letting me in, Daisy,” Todd says as he approaches me by the front door. He stops about one foot away and gives me an appreciative look. “I still can’t believe Caine is hiding a girl like you in his apartment .”
I smile as heat spreads across my cheeks .
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Daisy. If you’re ever bored with Caine, come find me.” Todd shoots me a big grin before he strides out the door into the freedom of the outside world, leaving me alone again in this big, empty apartment .
He’s so different from Caine. So friendly. He smiles a lot .
Come to think of it, though, I guess Todd’s just normal. I probably have a distorted view of normal human behavior, since I’ve only been interacting with Caine lately. Cold, intense, rude, domineering, arrogant Caine .
Ugh. I’d sleep on cardboard if I could talk to someone else, someone I actually know rather than some random cousin of Caine’s .
Maybe…
Maybe if Todd can go in and out of Caine’s bedroom just like that, it’s okay if I sneak in, too ?
It’s not out of curiosity. I’ve seen what’s inside the room, after all. But when I was in there last night, I spotted a phone on the night stand .
Maybe I can make a quick phone call? Caine never has to find out .
* * *
“S hit. I have to go,” I say into the phone. “Take care, okay? Do your homework .”
I hang up and scan the bedroom .
I’ve gone over this in my mind so many times. I need to go in and out before Caine gets home. If he gets home and I’m still here, there’s nowhere to hide .
Now he’s home. I can hear his key turning in the lock, then the door opening and closing again .
There’s nowhere to hide .
When Caine bursts into the room, I’m still standing by the night stand, looking as guilty as a dog that has just shredded the morning paper .
“What have you been doing, kitten?” He cocks an eyebrow and keeps his eyes on me as he closes the door behind him .
“Nothing,” I say. I realize my voice sounds shaky and unconvincing. Shit .
“I didn’t expect to see you here .”
“Yeah, well, nothing in the contract says I’m not allowed in here.” I swallow. I hope he doesn’t call my bluff .
He narrows his eyes at me. I freeze, but I will myself to look straight back at him. If I act like there’s nothing wrong, maybe he’ll let me off the hook, as long as he doesn’t find anything incriminating. Before I’m conscious of what I’m doing, my gaze flicks to the phone, checking if I lef
t any kind of evidence that could lead back to me .
Big mistake .
“I see,” Caine says. “You called someone .”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement. He knows .
The room suddenly feels cold—not just the mood in here, but also physically. My body turns cold at the accusation .
“You’re not going to confess?” Caine stalks closer. There’s anger there, but it’s contained, controlled. Just like everything about him. Not a crease in his suit. Not a hair out of place .
“I…” My voice trails off, silenced by fear. I know Caine’s not going to do anything to seriously hurt me, but this fear, it comes from deep within me .
I’ve been conditioned to fear a man’s anger, trained to hide in my own room and lock the door as Mom and her latest boyfriend yell at each other outside. But this man—this angry man—is right here in this enclosed room with me. This big, spacious room feels suffocating .
“You know, kitten, it’s easy enough for me to find out what you did.” Caine’s standing only inches away from me now. He lifts up my chin and makes me look up at him. He smirks at me, mocking me. “All I have to do is pick up the phone and redial the last number .”
Shit. He’s right. I didn’t even think of that .
“I see you’re only realizing that now,” he says. “You see, kitten, I can read you like a book. So you’d better tell me what you just did. You don’t want me to waste my energy trying to find out. You don’t want to make me angry .”
I swallow again. I know he’s already angry. He’s just holding back. Regardless, he’s right; I don’t want to make things any worse than they already are .
“You got me.” I try to sound casual, but I’m not sure I’m quite pulling it off. “You’re right. I made a phone call .”
“Who did you call ?”
“A friend .”
“So if I redial the last number and ask who’s on the other end of the line, that person will say the same thing? That he’s your friend?” He studies me, his deep blue eyes darkening and piercing into my soul .
I don’t know how he does it, but I feel naked already, even though I’m wearing my usual sweatpants-and-old-shirt combo .
“Okay. It’s my brother,” I finally admit .
“Interesting. You never mentioned having a brother before .”
“You never asked,” I retort .
I’m not lying. Caine has never explicitly asked about whether I have siblings, but I’ve also consciously taken Jack out of every single thing I’ve ever told Caine about my life .
I don’t know why. There’s never been any indication that Caine would hurt Jack if he knew, but when it comes to my little brother, I like to play it safe. Better safe than sorry .
“I’ll have to punish you,” he says with authority. “You know you’re not supposed to make any contact with anyone else other than Sasha. That’s against the rules. You know that, right?” He asks me sternly .
I lower my eyelids to avoid his gaze, but he only lifts my chin higher, forcing me to see his anger, his disappointment. I nod softly .
“And that’s why I’ll have to punish you. Actions must have consequences .”
His threatening voice penetrates my skin, sinks into my flesh and chills my bones. I shudder, which only makes him smirk .
“Luckily for you, I’m in a rush so I can’t do it now,” he says. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, though .”
Caine takes his hand off my chin. My knees are so weak I stumble a little and fall flat on my ass, landing on Caine’s bed .
Caine chuckles. He crouches in front of me and levels his gaze at me, predatory .
“I can think of a few things we can do on this bed, my little flower. There’s nothing I’d like to do more right now.” There’s promise in his voice, in his dangerous eyes. It tells me he can’t wait to pounce on me and devour me, and he’s going to. It’s just a matter of time .
My core clenches. The fear, the tension, the guilt, the regret—everything swirls together inside me and, strangely, blend together into arousal. No matter what happens between Caine and me, it always seems to lead to one thing: sex .
He’s all wrong for me. He’s way too dangerous .
Yet, my body craves his touch. As it turns out, desire doesn’t need a reason. That’s one lesson I’m learning .
“You tried to lie to me.” He chuckles, as if that amuses him. Something tells me he’s enjoying this. He likes the fact that I lied to him, because it gives him a reason to punish me, because now he has the upper hand .
This power play is making my head spin. Everything’s about control with Caine .
“Pack up, kitten. We’re going on a trip.” He gets up and starts grabbing things from his wardrobe, dumping them into a black duffel bag. He turns to look at me, still sitting with my jaw open on the bed. “That includes you, my little flower. You and me. We’re leaving. Now. Pack up. I’m not going to say it again .”
Daisy
“M iss?” The waitress in the cute yellow dress and little white apron gives me an impatient, inquisitive look .
She knows. Shit. She knows .
I look up from my seat in the booth that I share with Caine and give her the most normal smile I can muster. My index finger lands on a random item on the menu .
“This one,” I say .
“The pancake? Sorry, but breakfast is only until eleven,” she says, pointing to the big-ass sign by the entrance of the diner. I must’ve missed that. It’s hard to focus with the soft rumbling on my clit. My brain is too overloaded with pleasurable sensations to think .
“Right. This one, then.” I point at something on a different page of the menu. As long as it’s not a breakfast item. As long as it makes her leave .
“Okay,” she says with smooth, practiced friendliness. She repeats our order and waits for a nod from Caine before she leaves .
I remember being her, waiting on tables to pay the bills. Maybe she’s also struggling through school at the same time, or maybe she has some other job. Maybe she has family members to take care of .
I wonder if she thinks her job is hard. It’s definitely unglamorous, and it wears on you, dealing with difficult diners all day, many of whom stiff you on the tips .
I actually miss it, now that I’m sitting here being served, with a gorgeous, wealthy, successful older man sitting across the table from me, smiling at me .
The ironic thing is, maybe that waitress envies me. It’s not about me. I’m not unattractive, but I’m also not pretty enough for people to envy me for my looks. I’m not wearing anything flashy either; just a pair of skinny jeans and a black shirt .
It’s Caine. He stands out wherever he goes, with the Armani suit on his tall, solid frame, the shiny Rolex around his wrist, and the Mercedes .
It’s not that living with him has desensitized me to his good looks. It’s just that this is the first time I’m outside with him, and it’s freaking me out .
Women check him out when they think their boyfriends aren’t looking, then they size me up and give me the evil eye. Apparently, they find me unsatisfactory .
Or maybe they know .
Caine’s looking at me with victory gleaming in his blue eyes. He gives me a cocky smirk. He definitely knows. He’s the one who made me wear this thing in my panties. My prison guard, my oppressor, my tyrant .
I hope he’s the only one who knows .
He gave them to me before leaving the apartment: a pair of panties with a small vibrator at the crotch. When I emerged from my room with my duffel bag, he casually handed them to me and told me to wear them .
His tone of voice and his stern look told me it wasn’t a request. It was an order. And I had been paid to obey .
At least there’s dignity in the time-tested profession of waiting tables .
Even if the customers yell at you, curse at you, fondle you, you can politely tell them to fuck off and a good manager would have your back. Worst case scenario, t
he trouble-makers would be out of your hair in about an hour, at the most .
At least a waitress can’t be required to wear panties with a vibrating crotch .
I mean, yes, the grass is always greener on the other side. But next time I’d rather be someone else, I’ll remind myself that at least I don’t have a vibrator pressed right up against my clit in public .
I hardly taste the food. I just half-heartedly chew it and let it slide down my throat, spoonful by spoonful .
“Here you go, baby” Caine holds his fork up to my mouth, offering me a bite-sized chunk of his steak. I give him a blank stare and take it in my mouth .
This is torture, and Caine is enjoying it. I can tell by the mean curl of his lips when he asks the waitress yet another question to keep her at the table longer, or the way he watches me as he slips his hand into his pocket to turn up the vibration with the remote. He always does it when we’re around people, too. It’s like he can sense when I’m struggling, and decides to up the ante at that exact moment .
Like right now. I hold on to the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. I grit my teeth, clench my jaw. I give Caine a look to tell him to cut it off, but the cocky dominance in his eyes only gets me hotter .
Come. He moves his lips without making any sound so nobody else can hear .
He's ordering me to come like a dog and, Jesus, I should be furious, but I can't get angry with the buzzing in my clit distracting me. He smirks, his eyes making it clear that I’m his possession, his to order and command. And just like that, without even touching me, he pushes me over the edge .
I suck in my lips and press them together until they hurt, holding on until the waves of climax pass. At the end, I’m panting, my face flushed from the orgasm—my first public orgasm .
I look around me and sigh with relief. Nobody’s paying attention to me. At least I didn't accidentally recreate that restaurant scene from When Harry Meets Sally .
“Let’s go, my little flower.” Caine puts his wallet back in his pocket, stands up, and offers me his hand, making the women who have been watching us wet their panties at this display of chivalry .
