"So what do you think, Ms. Hadley?" His elbows were resting on the desk, hands folded in front of his face, not-quite obscuring his smile. "Don't say no. Not now. I've already bought the ring."
I felt too warm, suddenly, my fingertips tingling with an excitement I couldn't name. "Really?"
He gave a single nod.
"Let me see it."
Lowering his hands, he reached for something on his desk, like he suddenly needed something for his hands to do. "No."
I cleared my throat. "Sorry?"
"No," he repeated. "You're not going to start wearing it yet. We can't announce our engagement right away, that's absurd."
"So? I can still see it." I caught myself before I actually started pouting - what was it about him that brought out my inner brat? "Come on. I want to know what kind of rock billionaires buy for their girlfriends."
"And you will, when it's time," he said, simply. He had the maddening tone of someone who's so used to getting his own way, there was no need to be defensive or to protest. His way was the only way.
Well, one thing was clear. If I wanted to make this work, I was going to have to play along.
"Fine," I said. My tone was full of calm acceptance.
He looked at me with a hint of suspicion. "Fine?" he echoed. "That's it?"
"That's it." I smiled. "Now, are you going to offer me dinner?"
Something in the room had changed. I couldn't define it, but he chilled, palpably, some door inside of him slamming shut with nearly audible bang.
"I think we're going to be seeing plenty of each other soon," he said. "Go home and get some rest. Are you taking care of Laura tomorrow?"
I nodded, trying to make sense of his sudden change of attitude. "For the next two days," I said. "Then I'm free until Friday."
Standing up, he started shuffling the papers on his desk. "Good. On Wednesday, I want you to come to the office with me and meet everyone. Keep your schedule clear. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
Yes, Sir.
I answered automatically, without hesitation or question. I thought I saw a slight grimace on his face, but it quickly disappeared.
What the hell did I do wrong?
Chapter Thirteen
Ben
Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a mother flipping cocksucking bitch.
This girl had me so tied up in knots, even my cursing didn't make sense anymore.
How I'd managed to keep my cool for as long as I did, I'll never know. When I woke up to the sound of the front door clicking shut, I figured, worst case scenario she must have had an attack of conscience - or an attack of good sense, maybe, about our plans. But that wasn't right. She'd very specifically changed her tune right after I left her alone with my computer.
A ball of panic started to form in my chest, and I sat there with my hand on the closed laptop for a while before I had the courage to open it.
There was nothing on there. I knew there was nothing on there. It was practically a full-time loaner, just for casual use, and I was very careful not to leave anything personal on it. It was safe. I'd let near-strangers use it a thousand times.
There must be something I was forgetting.
Finally, I forced myself to look. If I wanted to catch her before she got all the way home, I needed to know what I was dealing with - and fast.
When I spotted it, my stomach leapt into my throat.
I'd completely fucking forgotten bookmarking that site on this fucking thing. Not that it usually mattered. But I must've been drunk. Did I think I was being subtle, naming it some random string of letters? It stood out like a sore fucking thumb. I should have called it "Carpet Repair" or something.
Carpet repair. Jesus Christ.
Before I had a chance to think about it, I was running out the front door, heading down the sidewalk towards her neighborhood. It was sheer luck that I managed to run into her, and pretty remarkable that she actually stopped to talk to me. Agreed to see me again, nonetheless.
I could see the barely-concealed revulsion in her eyes. She didn't understand it. Of course she didn't. It was one of those things you had to feel. Everything I'd told her about my history was true. The first time Daria told me she wanted it, I wondered how I'd managed to hitch my wagon to a mental patient. I was about as judgmental as they come. Then, when I finally had her moaning and squirming underneath my hand, everything started to make a whole lot of sense.
It wasn't just about sex. I mean, sure, you'd have to be robot not to get a hard-on with a sexy woman squealing and shimmying across your lap, especially when you can feel her getting hot for you, punishment or no punishment. But the power, the control, it was intoxicating even beyond that. Even though I never had Daria's trust, I had something like it. And with her, I learned that almost was good enough.
Of course Jenna didn't understand it. I couldn't expect her to. But that wasn't what bothered me. I'd talked her back into our deal; that was no problem. I was persuasive. Short of her discovering I was the Zodiac killer, there was nothing I couldn't silver-tongue my way out of. That wasn't the reason why my brain felt like it was trying to swallow itself.
She wanted it.
Some men, some Doms, they claim they can look at a woman and just know if she's a natural submissive. I happen to think they're full of shit. People can put on all kinds of masks, all kinds of performances, during their everyday life. What I do is all about stripping those away, slowly, slowly revealing the person underneath who just craves pure sensation. The submission is just a way to get there. In the end, it's all about feelings. Triggering the right brain chemicals. Pretty soon, you're hooked.
Jenna wasn't hooked yet. But oh, she wanted a taste.
I could tell.
When we met, if she had the desire, it was dormant. It was too deeply hidden for me to see. But once the idea was planted in her head...
Well. Now, it had wormed its way into her brain. There was no way it was coming back out. Even if she never did it, for the rest of her life, she'd wonder.
And I didn't want that for her.
There was beauty in submission, yes. There was comfort. There was happiness, for those who wanted it, they got some kind of gratification they couldn't find any other way. But I'd never been fully convinced that they didn't lose a part of themselves in the process.
While something inside me growled with pleasure at seeing a powerful, independent woman subdued - another part of me still recoiled. I believed everything I'd said to Jenna - at least, I wanted to. Those were the justifications I'd read, over and over again, until I could recite them to myself whenever I had doubts. But that spark she'd had when she confronted me in the grocery store, the way she didn't even think twice, just saw me acting like an entitled asshole and lashed out. I never wanted to see that disappear. I didn't want to see her bite it back, I didn't want to see all kinds of unspoken things flashing in her eyes while she reluctantly bowed her head. It wasn't right. She deserved better.