by Loki Renard
Harris had shown little to no mercy. She would have thought he would have been nice to her, seeing as she was a lady and his employer to boot, but he’d spanked her as hard and as long as he might any common chambermaid. Fiona pouted to herself and rubbed her bottom. Why had he done that? Didn’t he like her? Or was it just because his friend was there? Was he showing off for the big blond man with the wise blue eyes?
It was with no small amount of nervousness that Fiona considered the possibility she was going to meet her match in Harris. And if she met her match in him, what about this Tom? What did he want? She guessed it was something to do with her father. The old man could not just accept she was going to make her own decisions in life and lately, his pressure had become quite unpleasant. If Tom was one of her father’s minions, she was going to have to lose him, and quick.
Dammit. She was thirsty. She was getting tired of standing, and sitting on the hard floor with a sore bottom was not an option. She tried the door, but it steadfastly refused to open.
“Harris!” She called out to the world beyond. “Harris, come on, let me out, I need to pee.”
Chapter Six
“She sounds almost human again,” Tom noted from the other side of the door. He had still not left the suite, and he had no intention of doing so. Harris was doing it tough. It was one thing to protect a client from people trying to hurt them, something entirely different to try to protect them from themselves.
Harris leaned against the door and nodded grimly. “She’s not ready to come out yet,” he said. “It takes her a while to come down properly once she goes into one of those…”
“…tantrums?” Tom finished the sentence. “Boy, you have your hands full.”
“I had a platoon in Afghanistan who gave me less trouble,” Harris agreed with a wry grin.
“Harrriiiiiiiisssss!” Fiona’s high pitched whine interrupted their conversation.
“Listen,” Tom said. “This girl’s family wants her back. She has a few warrants, but they can make them go away. They just want to make sure she’s safe.”
“She is safe,” Harris said. “You can tell them that, put their minds at ease.”
“All due respect, that’s not what they’re paying me for.”
“And taking her back to her family is not what Fiona is paying me for,” Harris said. “You’re wasting your time here. Fiona, tantrums or not, is the one who will decide where she goes and how she goes there.”
He was loyal. Tom was impressed by that. Most men would have leaped at the chance to get a hellion like Fiona off their hands.
“Then I’ll wait until she’s ready to see reason,” Tom said.
“You could be waiting a long while.”
“Harriiiisss!” Fiona’s whine had gone from strident to whimpery. “Are you still there?”
Harris cracked the door and poked his head in. “I’m still here. You can cool your heels a little longer, then we’ll talk.”
“But…”
Harris shut the door, cutting off her complaint. That did not please Fiona, who shrieked with rage and, by the sounds of it, pounded both fists and feet against the doors. Tom watched as Harris leaned against the sturdy barriers, ignoring the way they vibrated against his back.
“You’ve been dealing with this for two straight weeks, huh?”
“She’ll get better soon,” Harris said. “The first couple weeks I went easy on her, wasn’t so sure of my place, just getting a feel for the lay of the land. It’s obvious what she needs now, though.”
“Is it in your brief, to discipline the client?”
“It’s in my brief to keep her safe, and if I can’t get her to mind me, she won’t be. So yes.” Harris shot him something of a defensive look.
“Hey, I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Tom said, putting up his hands. “I’m just saying you’re taking on a big job here. She’s no ordinary brat. Not from what I’ve seen.”
“You’re right,” Harris admitted. “She’s been spoiled her whole damn life. Neglected too, I think.”
“Classic poor little rich girl,” Tom said. “Well, I can tell you the family definitely wants her back with them. They’re paying a pretty penny for it.”
“Are you talking about me?” Fiona’s suspicious tones wafted through the keyhole.
“We’re discussing just how we’re going to spank you,” Harris called back, winking at Tom.
“Both of you?”
To Tom’s surprise, and judging by Harris’s raised brows, his too, she didn’t seem that put off by the idea. The woman who had just destroyed a hotel room more effectively than your average rock band sounded almost intrigued at the prospect of receiving discipline at both their hands.
“What do you say?” Harris lowered his voice so she couldn’t hear. “They say two heads are better than one, right?”
“Two strong right hands are probably more effective than one,” Tom agreed. “But I don’t want to step on your toes, you and Fiona have a relationship…”
“We don’t have a relationship,” Harris clarified. “Not that kind of relationship. First time I spanked her was yesterday. Before that I made sure drunk heirs to sausage fortunes didn’t snag her panties in the VIP lounge. The closest we ever got was when I carried her back to her room because she was too drunk to walk.”
“So this is the first time she’s ever had to deal with consequences,” Tom said. “First time anybody ever told her no and meant it. No wonder she’s panicking.”
“I guess,” Harris agreed. “Actually, she wasn’t taking it too badly until, well, you saw until…”
“Until it got in the way of her temper and getting her own way,” Tom said. “Being a spoiled little brat isn’t something that changes overnight. It’s not going to be easy, turning this girl around.” He was aware they were discussing Fiona more like a mission or a project than a person, but with the havoc she’d just unleashed, the woman was more like a disaster zone.
“You’re not wrong.” Harris gave him a keen look. “So which room did you book into?”
“Who said I’m staying here?” Tom grinned.
“I know your type,” Harris replied. “You tailed us all the way from New York. There’s no way you didn’t check into this hotel too. It’s just common sense.”
“Actually,” Tom admitted, “I took the room across the hall.”
Harris snorted. “Of course you did. You’ll follow us anywhere we go, won’t you?”
“That’s the general idea,” Tom said. “Unless or until Fiona goes back home or the client pulls the funding.”
“Well,” Harris said, scratching under his chin. “Way I see it, you’re going to be around one way or another. Might as well make yourself useful.”
What they were discussing was a most unorthodox relationship, but Tom was glad Harris was clever enough to see the sense behind it. Both of them were going to be tailing Fiona wherever she went anyway, there was little point in treating one another like enemies.
“Harris! I am going to pee on the carpet if you don’t let me out of here right now!”
Harris rolled his eyes, while Tom grinned. “Here,” he said, “let me see if I can get through to her.”
“Be my guest.”
Harris stepped away from the door and let Tom go up to it. Cracking the door open, Tom put his head into the room and gave Fiona a stern look.
“Now listen here, you little varmint. You’ll hold your bladder or I’ll send down for some diapers and put ‘em on you.”
Fiona’s look of shock was utterly priceless. “Where’s Harris?”
“Harris is having a well-earned cup of coffee,” Tom said. “Now are you going to mind me and quiet down? Or are you going to make me tan your hide too?”
He was laying the Texas drawl on thick. It was effective. Fiona’s eyes were like big blue and green saucers as she stared at him, her hands going to toy with the hem of her skirt nervously.
“Yo
u’re… you can’t…” she voiced the objections softly.
“I am and I can,” Tom told her firmly. “I’ve been sent here to ask you to go home…”
Her eyes sparked and her lip curled. “I will never go back home. Never.”
“That’s fine,” Tom said. “But you won’t throw tantrums like a ten ton bull either.”
“Are you calling me a cow?”
Tom wasn’t going to play that game.
“I’m calling you a spoiled little whelp,” he said, “now you quiet down for fifteen minutes or so. You do that, you can come out.”
She stared at him, her expression slightly curious, slightly hostile. The mention of her family had certainly had an effect, not a positive one. She was calmer, but she was also more watchful. He’d triggered a much more thoughtful state of mind. A concerned state of mind.
“Leave me be,” she said.
He was being dismissed from an empty closet. Somehow she managed to sound haughty. But she was doing what he asked, so he did what she asked and shut the door again. By that time, Harris had returned from getting the coffee Tom had indirectly suggested he get.
“Is the carpet wet?”
“No,” Tom guffawed. “She wouldn’t really do that, would she?”
“She hasn’t done it yet,” Harris said, “but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t. Girl doesn’t really have much in the way of boundaries.”
* * *
Fiona didn’t know what the hell was going on. It felt as though she’d left the US and landed on another planet. First Harris grew a spine and then this cowboy invaded her suite and was making threats left, right and center. When did men get this forceful and sure of themselves? Her whole life, Fiona had been surrounded by people who did what she told them to do. Her father had not been quite so obliging, but she’d hardly seen him. After her mother died, he’d basically refused to look at her or speak to her. It had been a long series of private tutors, nannies, servants, and paid holidays. Home was where the cash was, and not much else.
Harris and Tom were making her nervous. What sort of men were these? What sort of man gave an order and expected it to be obeyed? What sort of man didn’t tolerate being screamed at?
She leaned against a wall and puzzled at the question, and her own feelings, which were violently mixed. She wanted to both yell at Harris and rush into his arms and be hugged. She fervently wished he would be nice to her, but at the same time she just wanted to scream him down until he let her have control again. It was all so confusing. It was all too much to think about and yet she could think of nothing else.
Finally, the door opened. Fiona stepped out with all the dignity she could muster.
“Harris,” she said politely. “May I speak with you please?”
“Certainly, Fiona.”
He followed her to one of the suite’s other bedrooms. One not covered in shards of glass and ceramic.
“I don’t want that man here,” she said. “Can you make him leave, please?” Putting ‘please’ at the end of every sentence was the only way she knew to convey politeness. It was not her usual mode of communication, and the word felt odd on her tongue.
“I can, but he won’t be far behind us, no matter where we go. He’s got the same training as I have, and he was in the service longer.”
“So you’re saying you can’t outwit one old man?”
Her tone had dipped into the derisive again. For a second, she thought Harris might spank her. He didn’t.
“I’m saying you don’t want to live on the run from him,” he said. “Tom is persistent and he has skills.”
“So what? He’s going to move in with us? Shall we take him shopping? Maybe book him a bed? Or do you two want to cuddle up together?” She let her sarcasm take over again.
“All he wants is to talk to you. Maybe we do that first.”
Fiona did not want to face Tom. The way he’d spoken to her showed a distinct lack of respect for her temper, and a lack of fear of her that surpassed even Harris’s recent nerve. Harris had spent a good two weeks getting the lay of the land before attempting to impose his authority upon her. This Tom, had a proprietary attitude she really didn’t care for right out of the gate.
“I will speak to him,” she said. “But if I do, and he doesn’t leave, I will expect you to do what needs to be done.”
“Let’s just talk, shall we?”
Fiona agreed, and followed Harris out to where Tom was once more sitting on the leather couches, looking as if he owned the place.
“Fiona has agreed to speak with you,” Harris informed him.
“That’s mighty kind of you.” Tom winked in her direction and her tummy turned all topsy-turvy in spite of itself.
“Listen,” she said, pretending she had not been threatening to pee on the carpet five minutes earlier. “I do not want anyone connected with my family around me. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll never set eyes on them again. If that means I never go back to America, very well.”
Tom nodded. “That’s your choice, Miss Fayrefield, and I certainly respect it. I’ll just keep an eye on you for a while, then. See if you change your mind.”
“I’d prefer you left me well alone,” she said, her voice all tight and squeaky from the effort it took not to scream at him. “I do not wish to be trailed by a spy from my family.”
“Best I can do is keep a respectful distance,” Tom said. “You won’t know I’m here. Harris likely will, but you won’t.”
Fiona felt her temper flaring for the third time that morning. The stupid man was not getting it.
“I want you to leave Milan. I want you to tell my father you could not find me and I want you to forget you ever met me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
The flames of Fiona’s anger were building again. She was going to lose control. Again. They were probably going to stick her in a closet. Again. That couldn’t happen. She had to get out of there before she destroyed everything she could lay her hands on.
With all the dignity she could muster, Fiona went back into her glass stained room, picked out her handbag amongst the chaos, selected a new pair of shoes, and left without another word to the two men. She swept out of the suite and back down to the lobby where she was once more treated with the deference and respect she deserved. She didn’t know if Harris had followed and honestly, she didn’t care. She just needed to get out of that claustrophobic grand suite before she did something she’d really regret.
Stepping out onto the streets of Milan, Fiona felt her stress fade almost instantly. It was a sunny day and in between the old Italian architecture, gaily colored stalls held all manner of goods and garments. Fiona loved to shop. In fact, shopping was the only exercise she willingly undertook.
Walking hither and thither, doling out euros left and right, she felt quite wonderful. There was a silk scarf that perfectly matched both her left and right eyes, a fact which was made much of by the pretty raven haired vendor who squealed with delight and babbled in both English and Italian.
Half an hour after leaving the hotel, Fiona was sitting in a cafe, sipping a coffee and enjoying the Italian sun. She received plenty of appreciative looks from passing men, who were not at all shy about displaying their approval of her curvaceous frame.
Italian men were beautiful. They dressed well, and with their raven hair and flashing eyes, even the smallest glance in their direction could be taken as an invitation to passion. One handsome man even went so far as to sit down next to her and begin a conversation, first in lyrical Italian, then in a deliciously accented English.
“You are beautiful,” he said, his eyes hungrily devouring her curves. “And all alone. A lady so beautiful should never be by herself.”
Fiona smiled. She was used to attention from men. Sometimes it seemed as though the world was full of nothing besides admirers, but a foreign one was always a nice change of pace.
“Walk with me,” the man said
. “To that fountain. We will throw in coins and I will pray for more of your beauty in the world.”
He was charming, very charming, and the fountain he was pointing out was in full public view. Fiona didn’t see the harm in taking a little walk with a handsome stranger. That was what she had originally planned to do in Milan, to shop and have hot, torrid affairs to keep her mind off the unpleasantness with Daddy Fayrefield.
“My name is Stefan,” he said, extending his hand. “Come, let us walk.”
She accepted his hand and stood up, smiling as they passed away from the coffee shop and toward the fountain. There were floods of tourists milling about the place. Tourists were attracted to the fountains like moths to flames.
“Look,” Stefan said. “Look at the…”
“Uurrk!”
The sound came from Fiona. She screamed as Stefan ripped her designer purse from her body and made a run for it through the crowd.
“Fucker!” She screamed and gave chase, no easy task given her shoes. Being effectively hobbled didn’t stop her from trying to catch the man who had made off with her favorite purse. Yes, she owned over a hundred purses, but that didn’t mean people were free to steal them.
“Fiona! Stop!” She heard Harris call her name and ignored him. There was no way she was going to stop. She pushed through gormless people staring into viewfinders and ignoring the world around them. One or two got shoved. Someone may or may not have fallen into the fountain. Fiona didn’t know or care. She could still see the pink of her purse flashing in the crowd. Stefan was impeded by other people, trying to dodge and dive around them.
“Asshole!” She shrieked, drawing more attention to her plight.
“Fiona!” Harris’s arms wrapped around her. He grabbed her and swung her off her feet. “Let it go! It’s just a purse!”
“It’s my purse!” She kicked out, half trying to escape Harris’s grip, half trying just to run more.
“My job is to take care of you, not your purse.”
