Shades of Submission: Fifty by Fifty #1: Billionaire Romance Boxed Set

by Hunter, Adriana

  "'Very good, Miss Bauer,'" she whispered, watching the floors pass with half-closed eyes, knowing that at any moment, the elevator could halt to pick up more passengers, but she couldn't stop.

  She rubbed the cum-stained fabric against her clit, whispering, "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" until she finally came, her body shuddering and twisting in the corner of the empty elevator.

  She slipped the fabric sample out from between her lips, bringing it up to her mouth and licking the taste of them together off the material as she clutched the railing, her ears ringing, the bag falling to the floor.

  The doors behind her opened to reveal two men in suits waiting to get on. Heidi straightened up and slipped the fabric into her pocket with her panties, trying to juggle her purse and the Styrofoam container.

  "Is that yours?" one of the men asked, pointing to the grey bag.

  "Oh," she breathed, still gasping. "Yes."

  "Here," the other one said, picking it up and handing it to her.

  "Thank you." She slung it back over her shoulder and faced forward, leaning against the wall.

  The numbers couldn't light up fast enough as the elevator took her down to the first floor where she could rush home and touch herself, remembering him, again and again. She didn't know how she was going to make it through the weekend.

  Chapter Four

  “Carvel?” Heidi whispered, nearly losing her grip on the coffee mug right over the blotter. She managed to catch it, not spilling a drop, before setting it on a coaster. “Roberto Carvel?”

  “Yes,” Warren Kaiser replied, tilting his head to frown at her. “Heidi, if you are going to work here, you really must stop sounding star struck every time I mention the name of a designer.”

  “I’m sorry.” She straightened up and smoothed her hand over her skirt. His eyes followed her hands, the frown growing.

  “A thousand dollar outfit and you still look like a little mouse,” he sighed. “Maybe it’s the hair. Perhaps I should send you to a salon?”

  “Oh.” She tucked a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry.”

  She had been wearing designer outfits every day and feeling like a queen. Today she was wearing Donna Karan, a knee-length pleated black skirt and a grey stretch v-neck cashmere sweater.

  “Here.” Kaiser wrote something down on a yellow legal pad and tore the sheet off, handing it to her. “Call this number and make an appointment. I’ll give you time during your lunch hour tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” She folded the paper and slipped it into her skirt pocket.

  He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Let me know when Carvel arrives.”

  Heidi slipped out of his office, closing the door behind her with a sigh. It had been a difficult few weeks, trying to say and do everything right. He had been right about there being an adjustment period. She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned back against the door. She wanted nothing more than to please him, but his punishments had been so awfully delightful she didn’t know if she wanted to be that good.

  The elevator doors opened and she startled, smoothing her skirt again as Robert Carvel strolled towards her. His gray hair and beard and olive complexion reminded her a great deal of Sean Connery, although his accent was Italian instead of Scottish. She straightened, determined to make a good first impression.

  “Hello, Mr. Carvel, I’m—”

  He didn’t even stop to look at her, just reached for the doorknob and walked right into Kaiser’s office. Heidi moved to follow, but the door swung shut with a shuddering bang and she stood there blinking at it, unmoving, undecided. Surely she should knock, offer them some refreshment? But what if she interrupted something…? Maybe Roberto Carvel always made such an entrance.

  Heidi’s anxiety was relieved when the door opened and Kaiser poked his head out. “Coffee, Heidi. Black.”

  She nodded, but he cut her, “Yes, sir,” off with another slam of the door. The coffee was hot, and she’d just made a fresh gourmet pot. The beans were organic, imported and smelled so rich when she ground them—by hand, Kaiser insisted—they made her dizzy. And she didn’t even drink coffee. It was the definitive smell she had come to associate with Kaiser—that, and the scent of leather.

  She held the full cup in one hand when she approached the closed door, raising her other to knock, but Kaiser’s impatient face appeared again, his brow immediately smoothing out when he saw her.

  “Your coffee, Mr. Carvel,” Heidi murmured, setting the hot cup on a black leather coaster on Kaiser’s desk in front of the man. He glanced up at her just briefly, his only acknowledgment a grunt. There were designs spread out in front of him and for a moment, Heidi entirely forgot where she was, and who she worked for.

  “Where did you get this?” She snatched one of the designs up and held it with trembling fingers.

  The dress was sleek, sexy, form-fitted over the hips, slit high up the side, but it was the soft feather accents across the bodice and down the draped front that made it seem as if it could float off the page. The dress was hers—she had designed it two years ago and, although the original sketch had been stolen, she had recreated it as part of the portfolio she had presented when she applied for a job at Kaiser.

  “Heidi!” Kaiser’s sharp admonishment brought her back and she swallowed, looking up at him, the drawing still clutched in her hand. “Put that down!”

  “I’m sorry.” She did as she was told, unable to keep the pain and confusion from clouding her features. It couldn’t possibly be her design…but it was. She knew it. Roberto Carvel stared at her, aghast, and she flushed, apologizing again. “I didn’t mean…it’s just…”

  “Clean up my table, Heidi,” Kaiser directed, pointing a finger toward the huge rectangular glass table by the window he had his papers spread out on. She hesitated, her mouth opening, unable to help herself, but seeing the look in his eyes stopped her again. Putting the design back on the desk in front of a stunned Carvel, she rushed over to do Kaiser’s bidding.

  “She’s new,” Kaiser explained with a shake of his head as he took a seat behind his desk. Carvel just raised an eyebrow in response, picking up the design Heidi had been holding. “And a bit star struck, I’m afraid.” Kaiser chuckled.

  “By me?” Carvel barked a laugh. “Well, she has good taste, anyway.”

  “She does.” Kaiser agreed, looking at the design in the man’s hand. “As do I. Andrea Paxton is going to be a household name before the end of the year, I have no doubt.”

  Andrea Paxton!

  Heidi’s head came up sharply—she had been on her knees, rummaging for papers that had found their way to the floor—and she rapped it so hard on the underside of the table she briefly saw stars and wondered if she’d actually cracked the glass. She let out a little squeak of pain and both men frowned, turning their heads to look at her. Rubbing the bump already forming, she scrambled out from underneath the table and began shuffling papers together on top.

  “She’s good, I’ll give you that,” Carvel agreed, flipping through the designs. “But inconsistent. Look, here…this design is amateurish, almost childish.”

  “Ah, but this one!” Kaiser lovingly lifted the design Heidi had been holding. “Is inspired!”

  And it’s mine! Heidi fumed, feeling her face flush as she watched Kaiser trace the dress’ lines with his finger.

  “Everyone has off days, bad designs.” Kaiser shrugged. “I’ll take a few of those if a designer can also bring me genius.”

  Genius. Heidi couldn’t help the tingle in her belly at the word. He thought her design was genius! Of course… he had no idea that it was hers. He believed Andrea Paxton, daughter of the late Reynold Paxton, whose silent connections in the fashion world extended far beyond Valentino or Versace, had designed that dress. And why wouldn’t he believe it, given her position, her money?

  But Heidi knew better. The girl had never had any real talent, even when they were in school together. Everything about Andrea was fake, f
rom her hair color to her nails to her bought-and-paid-for c-cup breasts. And now, she was faking someone else’s designs as her own. Stealing them.

  Heidi knew instantly how it had happened—and realized she should have suspected, given how much time Andrea had spent in their apartment. Was she ever going to stop being so naïve? Mentally, she kicked herself as she sorted Kaiser’s paper mess into organized piles, remembering her roommate, Sara, introducing her to Andrea Paxton—yes, that Andrea Paxton. Heidi’s hackles had gone up immediately, and now she knew why.

  I never trust my instincts, but they’re always right. She sighed audibly and bit her lip in apology when Kaiser frowned and gave her a sharp look. The two men were conferring over something, but Heidi had lost the conversation, too involved for who knew how long in her own thoughts.

  “Well, let’s see what your aficionado has to say.” Carvel held up two designs. Neither of them were hers, thank goodness, and both were quite good—so they couldn’t be Andrea Paxton’s, Heidi thought grimly. “Which one?”

  Heidi’s eyes flickered to Kaiser. He was frowning, but he was also clearly going to humor the old man. He gave her a slight nod and she moved forward to take the two pieces of paper. They were full color illustrations—hours of work, Heidi knew from her own time spent at a drawing pad.

  “Lovely,” Heidi sighed happily as she looked from one to the other. It really was a tough choice, although both were significantly different dresses. The first was a cream-colored silk, the bodice and back dangerously low. The other was a bold pomegranate concoction bursting with seed-pearls. Just looking at it made Heidi’s imagination take flight and she found herself mentally improving on it.

  “So much for that.” Kaiser laughed, looking at his secretary’s dreamy expression.

  “This one.” Heidi said firmly, handing the red dress to Carvel, not looking at Kaiser. “The one here pretends to take risks—it thinks itself daring and dangerous.” She scoffed, tossing the cream-colored backless dress on the desk in dismissal. “But this dress…this dress is actually everything the other one claims to be. It’s bold… courageous.” Heidi’s gaze followed the line of the dress in Carvel’s hand. “It’s unapologetic.”

  “Intrepid.” Kaiser’s voice brought her attention again and Heidi flushed, meeting his gaze. Was he talking about the dress? She wondered. His dark eyes were burning and she knew she was in trouble—big trouble—for everything that had happened that day. The thought sent a shiver of both fear and excitement up her spine. He looked like he wanted to take her across his knee right there, and she wondered if he would have if the phone hadn’t rung.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured, edging around the desk, giving it a wide berth, and going out into the vestibule to answer the phone.

  By the time Heidi had cleared up the order for white silk scarves—three hundred, not three thousand, and oh her bottom tingled just at the thought of what the mistake of an extra zero might have cost her—Roberto Carvel was shaking Kaiser’s hand at the elevator and they were talking about dinner plans.

  “Bring Eve,” Kaiser insisted, smiling. “If she’s managed to forgive you your trespasses.”

  “I’m out of hot water for the moment.” Carvel chuckled, looking sheepish. “I named a line of sunglasses after her. And I’m letting her run her own pet fashion line.”

  “Now that’s what I call contrition!” Kaiser laughed. “I’m sure you’ll make a mint.”

  Heidi, who had stood, Pavlovian, as soon as Kaiser’s office door had swung open, waited for the elevator doors to close, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Poor woman. He’s been fucking around on her for years,” Kaiser remarked as he turned and pinned her with his gaze. When he looked at her like that, she found her breath simply gone. “Infidelity is a clear sign of weakness.”

  It made her wonder about his life—not that she hadn’t spent her time since meeting him pouring over the society pages trying to find out. He wasn’t married, everyone knew that, never had been. But he was clearly not gay, as so many in the field were, especially the designers. So where was the woman in his life, if he didn’t believe in playing the field? And where did his…secretary…fit into that picture?

  I’m invisible, she thought. I don’t count.

  “Of course, poor Eve found solace with a young paramour pretty quickly, I hear,” Kaiser mused and shrugged, walking back toward his office. “Tit for tat.”

  For a moment, Heidi thought he was going to simply go in and shut the door behind him, and she wasn’t sure if what she felt was disappointment or relief. Then he stopped, tilted his head in her direction, and slanted his eyes.

  “Come into my office.”

  She followed him meekly, standing beside his desk and watching him peer out the window. He looked pensive, his mouth drawn into a tight line, his eyes veiled. It felt like a long time and she tried not to fidget, finding herself swallowing reflexively, blinking too often, eager for some movement, a break in the tension.

  “Carvel didn’t notice anything I haven’t already made note of.” Kaiser turned from the window and she straightened slightly at the motion. “I’ve been quite impressed by your knowledge of fashion.” His praise made her want to wiggle like a puppy and she struggled to keep herself still, to breathe, calm deep breaths.

  His approach was enormous, his presence huge, leaving her in shadow as he stood in front of her. In spite of her efforts, her breath quickened, her heart raced.

  “Tell me why I hired you.” He lifted her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. He was close, very close, and she was all too aware of his heat. It was hard to think, let alone speak, but she wanted, as ever, to please him.

  “Because I’ll do anything.” She spoke the words in a near-whisper, ashamed of them, and herself. But she knew they were true, even as she hated herself for it.

  “No.” Kaiser’s thumb moved along her jaw, over the swell of her lips. He seemed to be considering something as he rubbed her mouth and she felt desperate for him but didn’t dare ask for what she wanted. “Because you’re willing.”

  His head dipped toward hers, his mouth disappointing her and moving past hers, past her cheek, to rest against her ear. “Pull your skirt up.”

  Heidi did as she was told, willing, as ever. She didn’t bend over—he hadn’t asked her that much—just gathered the black pleats in her hands until her hemline inched up over her bottom, which was bare, of course. No panties, just garters and stockings, black, with a hint of lace.

  “You see?” Her bare skin touched the cold edge of the desk as he pressed against her, his knee moving between hers, his lips hot against the shell of her ear, making her shiver as he spoke. “Willing. Obedient.”

  Heidi gasped when he turned her around, using his hands on her hips to complete the motion. She nearly lost her grip on her skirt, but managed to hang on as he then bent her head with the palm of his hand until her cheek rested against the desk blotter.

  “I lived on a farm when I was a child, you know.” Kaiser’s hand moved along the back of her sweater, over her spine. Heidi wanted to turn and look at him, her face showing her surprise, but she didn’t move. He chuckled, using his knee between hers to force her thighs further apart and she obliged. “Surprised? It was a long time ago. My father was a rancher. A real Texas rancher.” His voice dipped quickly into a rich Texan accent and Heidi blinked, shocked, but remained both unmoving and silent.

  “We had horses. My father caught wild Mustangs, broke them and then sold them. Have you ever seen someone break a horse?” Kaiser’s voice had moved further away and she wanted to look, to see what the noise was, but she remained as he’d left her, cheek-against-blotter, her arms trembling as she held her skirt up for him.

  “No, sir,” she replied, realizing that he’d asked her a question.

  “It’s brutal.” Kaiser was close again and took her hands in his, moving her skirt higher up over her hips so it would stay by itself. “Savage. Horses that have lived in the wild thei
r whole lives know nothing of bits and bridles and saddles. My father called it ‘learnin.’ As in—‘We’re learnin’ these here horses to be right.’ He was definitely no horse-whisperer.” The Texas accent was back, briefly, and Kaiser laughed, but it was a humorless thing, and Heidi found herself blinking back tears.

  “Some horses break easy.” Kaiser stretched one of her arms out with his as he pressed against her from behind. “Some don’t.” He did the same with her other arm, and she spread her fingers out on the blotter, her hands disappearing under his. “When a horse has too much spirit, breaking it turns quite cruel. It’s a horrible struggle between human and beast.”

  His cheek found hers, resting there as he spoke. She was transfixed, trembling beneath him.

  “I don’t want a woman I have to break.” His voice was soft, urgent, and she wished she could see his face. “I want a woman who’s willing to bend.”

  His words thrilled her even as he stood up and stepped back, bringing a hand down hard against the swell of her behind. She didn’t do it, but she wanted to arch her back like a cat, begging for more. This is what she wanted, had always wanted, would forever want.

  He might have been right about breaking horses, she mused, biting her lip to keep from crying out as his hand came down again, but there was something she thought he didn’t know. That kind of surrender of the spirit required trust—a great deal of trust. Perhaps some horses refused to submit because they were worldly cynics, too cautious and suspicious to give in. To them, man was just another dangerously cruel faction of an already dangerous universe. Those horses that were easier to break—she wondered if their spirits were just as strong as the others. Maybe even stronger.

  “Eeee!” she squealed as his hand found the sweet spot again, again, picking up rhythm. She breathed a sigh of relief when he switched cheeks, but she knew that one would soon be red and stinging, too.

  Heidi closed her eyes and thought about horses, wild-eyed ones running free, and tame ones, sweet as the sugar-cubes they nuzzled from your hand. Were those captive horses broken, then? Was it so wrong to trust? To want someone to guide you, shape you, give you exactly what you needed?