Fool's Desire

by Poppy Flynn

  Desirae waited in trepidation for someone to contradict her declaration. She could see from the way Joel's eyes darkened and narrowed that he wanted to do just that, but apart from the expression smouldering in his penetrating gaze that silently called her a liar, he had yet to move, or touch, or even acknowledge her past his initial recognition.

  And anyway, she comforted herself with a literal elucidation, she hadn't been lying. Every single word she had said was true. She had spent eighteen months at University with them, it had been eleven years ago, and they hadn't had any contact since. If the subtleties of the relationship they had shared were slightly—considerably—different than she had implied, then that was nobody else's business. It certainly had no place in this boardroom.

  Jake's face held a slightly bemused expression and he cocked an eyebrow which seemed to scream, "Really?" and suddenly the recollection popped into Desirae's head that he, too, had seen her naked and…everything. Dear Lord! She had even scened with him during those times that Joel had wanted to really push her boundaries…and she so wasn't going there!

  Ironically, it was that last thought which galvanised her into action.

  "Jake!" she said instead, stepping forward and pressing her cheek briefly against his in a gesture that bordered on informal but wasn't quite intimate. She felt a soft warmth seeping into her soul at being in his welcoming presence. One that she wasn't entirely comfortable with and which she desperately tried to push away without complete success.

  Stepping back, she steeled herself and held out a formal hand to his cousin.

  "Joel." She nodded, hoping like hell that the jolt of electricity that had just zinged down her arm at his casual touch hadn't shown on her face.

  She pulled away a tad too quickly and turned hurriedly to Connor Griffin, grasping his hand firmly as she released her breath. "Nice to meet you again, Mr Griffin," she said tritely, not meeting his eyes as she speculated as to whether he was recalling Friday's clash with John.

  "I think, under the circumstances, you should call me Connor." Desirae's shoulders stiffened and she wondered if she had just imagined the innuendo in his voice. Glancing sharply at him, her breath hitched as she caught the sensory awareness betrayed in his eyes, and in that second, she knew. Knew that Connor Griffin had personal knowledge of her. Of Daisy Kidde. Intimate knowledge that he could only have heard from Joel.

  Her eyes widened fractionally before she could temper her reaction and then narrowed. Jeez! Could this situation get any worse?

  What a clusterfuck! Desirae used years of long practice to haul an air of aloof professionalism around her and erected what she hoped was the equivalent of a metaphorical barbed wire fence abound herself.

  She was supposed to be discussing the complexities and intricacies of a situation that could very well turn into a hostile takeover with these three men. Undoubtedly, it was the most significant and delicate position of her entire career, and here she'd had an incendiary sexual, BDSM relationship with one, which hadn't ended anywhere close to well, an intimate and, to most minds, probably perverted relationship with another, when he had been involved in their scenes as a third, and the last man clearly had intimate knowledge of all of those things. How on earth was she going to maintain any kind of professionalism here? How was she going to be able to look any one of them in the eye and talk business? How was she going to get any of them to take her seriously? They each knew her as a completely different person from a completely different world.

  Panic started to bubble up stealthily underneath her surface calm and she felt the layers of her poise and control traitorously start to spin away.

  And then it occurred to her—what they knew of her, she also knew of them.

  With a relieved inner sigh, her mental scales rebalanced. Funny how that one small realisation finally made her feel empowered and restored her equilibrium. It also led to another recollection; in the world of BDSM, there was no judgement. Everybody accepted each other's kinks. With that, the shroud of despair that had been threatening to envelope her finally lifted. She could do this. It was time to show this lot exactly what she was made of.

  Several hours later, Joel was looking at Desirae with renewed respect. The woman obviously knew her stuff. She had a mind like a steel trap and the ability to view everything from a unique perspective. He guessed that was the secret of her success. It was difficult to articulate, but she didn't quite approach things in the same way as the rest of them would and that difference...made a difference.

  Damn, if her brain didn't turn him on, and that was something completely new to him. Usually, his only lure was BDSM and the occasional business women that he met through his work were unknown quantities in that area and thereby didn't interest him.

  He'd always known that Daisy was intelligent, but she had never used her intellect the way she did now and it was fascinating.

  Of course, she had always turned him on, but just watching her work, listening to her reasoning, added a new dimension to that attraction.

  Maybe because he already knew her to be a submissive…but that didn't make sense, either. There were plenty of subs at the club who were professional women. The difference was, at the club, they didn't talk business. The two were separate. So, the answer must be that here he was talking business with Desirae, his kind of business specifically, layered with the fact that he knew her to be submissive—his perfect submissive.

  Not just his perfect submissive, but his perfect woman, and it occurred to Joel that maybe, just maybe, with Desirae Harper, he could have everything.

  A business associate he could respect, a partner who understood his work, a woman his father approved of and a submissive who could fulfil all his needs.

  The idea had his blood rushing south at warp speed until he shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust the wood he was now sporting that was suddenly hard enough to pound nails. And that was another first. Never in his life had his libido spilled over into the boardroom. The two had always been entirely separate, but right now, he found himself backing unification on that front. He just wondered if it was even remotely possible to get Desirae on board or if she would be as receptive to him as she was to the idea of a company takeover.

  Since they had sat down around the table, she had cast off any vulnerabilities she might have been feeling at coming face to face with Jake and himself. If, indeed, the situation had caused any vulnerabilities. It was damn near impossible to tell, she remained so freaking impassive. For the past two hours, she had been reserved and detached. Her voice had remained modulated and calm. Her attention focussed. None of the arguments they put forward to back the takeover plan had her becoming heated or flustered. Her demeanour remained cool and composed, even under pressure. In fact, nothing at all seemed to ruffle her icy control, a control that Joel had always prized above all else. That had become his benchmark in his search for a submissive. His control over his submissive and their control over themselves, but perversely, all he wanted to do right now was find a way to make her lose that vaunted control.

  He'd spent a decade searching for a sub who didn't top from the bottom, who was quiet when he demanded quiet, who was still when he demanded still, no matter how uncomfortable, no matter the provocation, no matter how hard he pushed. Now that he had that in his sights, now that she sat before him, all calm and restrained and disciplined, he was overwhelmed with the desire to see her blow. To make her scream and watch her sweat, to have her flail and thrash about, to hear her plead and implore and beg him. To witness all hell let loose.

  As if she sensed that his mind was on her personally and not on business, she chose that moment to glance over at him. Joel held her gaze, and as she returned his blistering stare with a remote and frosty look of her own, he knew he would have his work cut out for him. But he was damn well going to try, and he really couldn't wait to get her alone because he was planning to demolish each and every one of her barriers until they crumbled at her feet and nothing was left but the quinte
ssential woman.

  Desirae battled hard to suppress the profound, bone deep shudder that threatened to shake her to the core.

  So far, Joel hadn't set a foot out of place. Despite her own hyperawareness of his presence, nothing he said or did could be even remotely construed to be unseemly, indecent or inappropriate. He had behaved like a perfect gentleman. He hadn't touched her, hadn't rebuked her, hadn't dismissed her input. He hadn't betrayed any kind of personal interest, never alluded to their previous relationship. In fact, he had been all business. Focused and attentive, listening to her arguments, countering with his own reasoning. He treated her as an equal and respected her opinions, even if they were counter to his own. They might almost have been exactly what they appeared on the surface, business acquaintances who had met fleetingly and insignificantly sometime in the distant past.

  It was all so very proper and yet, with that last look, Desirae had felt exposed and defenceless, as if her very essence of self was in jeopardy.

  The hairs stood up on the back of her neck and adrenaline poured through her veins, reinforcing her fight or flight response, and an indefinable perception in the corners of her consciousness warned her that if she valued the woman she'd become, she needed to stay the hell away from Joel Blackwood.

  Chapter 4

  Desirae sighed audibly, the sound loud in the quiet of the room, and gave in to the desire to kick off her shoes and wiggle her toes in the soft carpet under her feet. She was back in the relative sanctuary of her own office after a mentally tiring day of corporate boardroom Ping-Pong, and her brain was still being bombarded with all the different arguments an hour after they'd wrapped everything up and she was preparing to go home.

  Stretching her neck from side to side, she reached back and kneaded at the tight muscles there and rolled her shoulders against the tension that had set in. She was oh-so-very tempted to remove the pins confining her hair so that she could massage her scalp, but that would have to wait until she had left the building.

  Nothing had really been accomplished. The Blackwood Corporation was resolute about going ahead with the takeover plan and it had become clear during their negotiations that that decision lay squarely on the shoulders of the senior CEO, Joseph Blackwood. Since it was obvious that neither Jake, nor even Joel, was in a position to overrule his executive ruling, it had been agreed, reluctantly on her part, that both parties would prepare their considerations for a formal meeting of the board of directors at the end of the week.

  Desirae felt bone weary, not just from the threat to the company, but from the all-encompassing bombardment to her senses at being in such close proximity to Joel Blackwood. Somehow, whenever she had imagined this encounter, this day when she was forced to come face to face with him, because, let's face it, there was no way she would have done it voluntarily, she had always imagined that the years would have extinguished his power over her and curbed her reaction to him. Time heals all wounds and all that garbage.

  While she understood that Joel had irrevocably changed her, her appearance, her outlook, her future goals, she had truly believed that her feelings towards him had also changed. That her pain and outrage and humiliation had diluted the love and adoration she had once felt and that time had finally rinsed away any residual sentiment until nothing was left except an understandable trepidation at the prospect that their paths might cross.

  She had been prepared for the possibility of animosity and the probability of awkwardness, but she had honestly never expected the visceral desire that had slammed through her at the mere sight of him or the way that goose bumps had shivered down her spine at the resonant sound of his voice as it stroked over her senses.

  Even seeing Jake had triggered a yearning in her soul, dear, sweet Jake, who had become one of her closest friends. Where Joel had been her contrast, always serious and brooding, Jake had been her counterpart, the cheerful, fun loving guy. They had constantly laughed and joked together like a pair of mischievous children. It had always made her giggle that he had been the one to take up the whip as his speciality kink. She'd frequently tease him that he'd only done it in an attempt to get people to take him more seriously. God, she'd missed him. If she was honest, she had never admitted, even to herself, quite how much. Their easy relationship had become collateral damage during the fallout of that awful night over a decade ago.

  Without warning, her office door flew open and the object of her lustful thoughts strode in. God, he looked good enough to eat in his perfectly tailored charcoal grey suit, the understated dove grey shirt and a Windsor knotted tie in a shade of grey exactly in between the two.

  Joel had filled out over the last ten years. His shoulders a little broader, the planes of his face a little sharper. It made the overall package even more tempting than she remembered, if that was even possible, and she felt a jolting pang of lust, a sensation that had been sadly missing from her life and her libido for a decade, just from looking at his delicious form.

  Joel hadn't been soft, even back then, but now, everything about him screamed brooding alpha male. It made her tummy do a little flip flop as he stalked towards her, determination shining in his sapphire eyes.

  He had the air of a predator, and right now, she'd do well to remember that she was nothing but the prey and that, if she wasn't careful, he would rip her to pieces all over again.

  Desirae stood up, unwilling to have him towering above her, then silently cursed that she'd removed her shoes and barely hit the shoulder of his towering six-foot-one frame.

  "We need to talk!" Joel growled, his eyes raking over her as if he might devour her whole.

  "We've been talking all afternoon." she replied coolly, applying a steadiness into her voice that she was far from feeling.

  "We need to talk about us," he clarified. "We have unfinished business, Daisy." Joel prowled around her office with all the lazy grace of a big cat but never took his eyes off her.

  "There is no us, Joel, and we've been finished for a long time. Over ten years."

  Desirae's voice was sharp, her face devoid of the emotion that was bubbling away perilously close to the surface, and she willed herself to stay still and not back away from him, in the same way as the quarry she felt like.

  "You ran away from me," Joel accused, his eyes turbulent and his shoulders tense. "You were my submissive. If there was a problem, you should have stopped and discussed it sensibly with me so that we could have reviewed our contract."

  Desirae fell back a step, her eyes widening at the shock of his words, and suddenly, unexpectedly, the pressure release valve with which she had anchored her broiling emotions finally failed and Desirae's anger erupted. His words had lit the torch paper and were the most effective douse to the churning desire that threatened to explode and have her throwing herself naked on his mercy. Instead, her passion erupted as temper.

  "And that right there is your problem, Joel." Her voice raised with each word. She stepped forward again and punctuated her every point by jabbing her finger against his muscled chest.

  "I was not your damn submissive; I was your girlfriend. We didn't have a bloody contract that dictated our time together, just a verbal agreement that covered the limits of our scenes. As far as I was concerned, that was just a bit of kink because that's what turned you on, not something that defined our entire relationship," she spat, her chest heaving and eyes flashing.

  Joel caught hold of her hand and halted her forward progress.

  "I was always your Dom," he insisted. "You should have come to me, not run away. It was up to me to protect you!"

  "Oh, and a damn fine job you did of that!" Desirae snarled. "You sat there knocking back a beer while one of your friends slagged me off and another asked about the dinner dates you'd had with another woman!" She heaved a breath and yanked her fingers away, the old hurts rushing back and crashing over her in a tide of vulnerability.

  "I remember quite clearly which one of them you addressed," she accused. "And it wasn't any attempt to defend
me, it was all about letting your kink buddies know just how hot Anita freaking Howard was. So, don't patronise me with that protection crap!"

  "I did defend you!" Joel bit out, reaching out for her again.

  Desirae spun away from him, desperate to put some distance between them as she felt a tell-tale prickling behind her eyes. She'd be damned if she let him see her cry. It was bad enough that she had lost her calm and flown off the handle with him. No way was she letting him know how deeply his presence was affecting her.

  She wound her arms around her middle, holding a tight rein on herself and hiding the whites of her knuckles as her fists clenched with the rage she was feeling at dragging up that whole humiliating incident and the eleven years that had passed without any release for those feelings. She had internalised them all, and now, here was Joel, providing the perfect outlet for all the emotions she had pent up for so long.

  "Oh, for crying out loud, don't patronise me, Joel," she seethed. "I heard every word. I heard Eric calling me a dizzy blonde bimbo who talked nothing but crap. I heard him telling everyone that I had a fat ass and afro hair and that I wasn't good enough for you to take home to meet your family. I heard him pointing out to everybody there that you only fucked me from behind so you didn't have to be reminded that I was short and had freckles." Daisy paced the room, stopping every so often to swing around and glower at him. She stopped briefly and looked straight at him.

  "You know what I heard you say about me, Joel?" she accused. "Nothing!"

  Desirae swung away from him again. "Not one single thing did you say in my defence. I could see you, Joel. You didn't even look that bothered. You just sat there, relaxing on the sofa and sipping your beer while your friend ripped me to shreds right in front of everyone. The only time you got angry was when you saw me. The first time any kind of expression crossed your face was when you knew I was there. Oh…" she said scornfully, glaring at him again. "Apart from the sappy grin you were wearing when you told everyone what a knockout Anita Howard was. Anita Howard, whom you had apparently been taking out to dinner behind my back!"