Legally Bound

by Rynne Raines

“Not necessarily true. Maybe I’m allowing your client enough rope to hang herself because the end result will be more satisfying that way.”

  “That’s a big maybe.”

  At the challenge, Eve lifted her chin a measure while the wheels in her head nearly flew off their tracks. This could be her chance to finally put Donavan’s doubts about her being a Mistress to rest. “Care to make a friendly wager, then?”

  Donavan studied her thoughtfully. “I’ve been known to make a bet or two. What did you have in mind?”

  As if deep in thought, Eve tapped one freshly manicured fingernail against her lips. She wasn’t however. She knew exactly what she wanted.

  “All right, if I win this case, we will attend the masquerade together—ah,” Eve wagged her finger when he tried to interrupt. “But you will be my slave. You’ll peel me grapes, rub my feet, and if you’re lucky I might just let you fan me with one of those giant feathers.”

  For the first time in ages, Eve saw Donavan hesitate. It was only for a split second but it was there. Perhaps the stakes were just a bit too high for him.

  “And if you lose?” he asked, intrigue evident in his tone.

  There was no chance in hell of her losing now that she had the tape. Although it was underhanded to make a bet with an ace in the hole, he would never find out. No harm. No foul.

  “If I lose, I’ll willingly submit to you for the entire weekend.”

  His eyes narrowed and Eve’s pulse skipped a beat. Could he smell the bet was fixed? Did she look too eager? Too confident? Were her lips twitching and giving her lucky ace away?

  Her throat dried further as Marcy proudly clutched the tape to her chest and marched toward them. If Donavan spotted that cassette, he wouldn’t enter into a wager that could land him on his knees without seeing what was on the tape first. She needed his answer. Now.

  “What do you say, Carver?”

  With his scorching gaze hot enough to melt the buttons clean off her ivory blouse, Donavan scanned her from head to toe. He brought his eyes back to hers. “You got yourself a bet, counselor.”

  As they shook to confirm, his large hand swallowed her smaller one and she wondered if he could feel the rapid pulse throbbing through her fingers.

  “See you in court then.” Eve casually broke off their handshake and anxiously waited until Donavan disappeared back inside conference room B before bolting full speed toward Marcy.

  “Oh God, sorry I’m late, boss. I got here as soon as I could,” Marcy said, out of breath.

  The moment the sleek black cassette touched Eve’s fingers, a wave of triumph rushed through her. Now, she had the upper hand.

  Eve smiled. “Marcy, your timing was absolutely perfect.”

  ****

  Defeat had never tasted so bitter.

  Even a double shot of McKinley’s best scotch couldn’t dilute the taste that formed in Donavan’s mouth the moment Judge Bishop struck down his gavel in favor of Arthur Langly. By morning, the outcome of the case would be splashed across the pages of every tabloid in Los Angeles, alongside his self respect.

  He’d lost high profile cases before and bounced back. In time, the respect of his peers could be restored and his professional reputation wouldn’t take too much of a hit. Everyone knew that clients lied to their lawyers, and Harriet Langly had sure pulled a fast one on him. However, it wasn’t merely the backlash of the Langly case making his temples throb and his gut churn.

  His seductive adversary now owned his ass for the entire weekend.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a cruel Mistress,” she had whispered on her way out of the courtroom. “We’ll start slow. Maybe my first order will be for you to give me a nice long massage. I love a good massage.”

  Oh, he had no problem with her wanting him to put his hands all over that long luscious body. His cock throbbed with the thought. Since law school, he’d wanted to get his hands on Evelyn Morgan. She was clever, sassy, and just the right amount devious. Unfortunately, she also insisted that she was a Mistress. No doubt she would don him in shackles the first chance she got.

  “Fuck.” Donavan tossed back the last of his scotch then slammed the glass down hard against the bar. “Keep em’ coming. Hell, just leave the bottle.”

  “I hate to say this but getting drunk off your ass at four o’clock in the afternoon won’t change the fact that you made a stupid bet, lost, and now have to pay up, my friend.”

  Donavan slowly craned his neck left and glared. Evan Chambers, his oldest friend and confidant, occupied the stool next to him, offering a sympathetic wince.

  “Maybe not,” Donavan agreed. “But, with any luck I’ll drink myself into a coma so deep there’ll be no possible way Eve can expect me to follow through with our wager.” He picked up his refilled glass, tossed it back, and then clenched his teeth as it burned going down.

  “If I know Eve, and I think I do, there’s no way you’re getting out of this one.”

  Donavan scowled. Evan was right. He was always right.

  Evan had the ability to read people. That’s probably what made him such a successful business man. Seven years ago when Eden opened, Donavan wasn’t entirely convinced Evan had what it took to run his own business. Soon after, he realized that entrepreneur ran in Chamber’s blood.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Evan continued, “I hear Eve takes very good care of her slaves.”

  “Blow me.”

  Evan chuckled then took a pull on his beer. “Isn’t Harriet Langly in her seventies?”

  “Seventy-five,” Donavan grumbled. “And as limber as a goddamn ballerina. You’d think Eve forcing me to watch that sex tape would be punishment enough.”

  “That good, eh?”

  “Let’s just say after the scene with the gardener, I’ll never be able to look at ornamental shrubbery in the same way again.”

  Evan laughed harder now, but Donavan’s scowl only deepened.

  This was not how he pictured things transpiring with Eve. She claimed to be a Mistress, yet her body screamed submissive. Whenever he whispered naughty, shameless words about taking her in hand, her lashes always fluttered and her cheeks always flushed. When he cornered her in a hallway like a lion stalking his prey, excitement lit in her vivid green eyes. Eve might say she was a Mistress but people lied every day. Physical reaction didn’t.

  Unfortunately his suspicions were neither here nor there now. He wasn’t a welcher. Whether he liked it or not, tomorrow night he’d be peeling grapes and giving PG-rated foot massages.

  “Mr. Carver? Oh wow, it is you! Small world! How lucky am I, getting to see you twice in one day?”

  Drawn out of his pity party by a small blonde leaning against the bar, Donavan tried to place her. It could have been the potency of the scotch, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who she was. About five-three, wide blue eyes, pleated plaid skirt and snug white blouse—not his usual type but there was a period in law school that included toga’s, bottomless kegs, and a hell of a lot of women.

  Donavan glanced at Evan in hopes of a life preserver, but his friend only arched a brow.

  “My apologies, sweetheart, I can’t quite remember your name.”

  “Marcy. Marcy Baxter.” She beamed and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder but the name didn’t ring any bells. “Ms. Morgan’s assistant.”

  Ms. Morgan’s assistant…Duh.

  “Right. Right, Marcy. Of course. Sorry, my head’s still a bit fuzzy from the case.”

  “It’s okay.” She continued to stare and nibble provocatively on her lower lip. “I’m sorry about the loss.”

  “Ah.” Donavan raised his glass. “Happens to the best of us.”

  “True. It could just as easily be Ms. Morgan sitting here, drowning her sorrows. I had to burn three red lights in order to get the tape to the courthouse in time. Luckily, I made it with twenty minutes to spare.”

  So this was the woman responsible for the piece of evidence that would land him on his knees. Fantastic. As her
words echoed in his head again, he creased his brow. Did she say she’d brought the tape with twenty minutes to spare?

  Donavan went ramrod straighten in his chair and turned to her. Twenty minutes before the recess ended was about the same time he and Eve were chatting in the hallway.

  “Marcy, you said that this is the second time seeing me today—did you happen to see me at the courthouse?”

  “Where else?” She giggled. “Maybe you didn’t see me. You were talking to Ms. Morgan when I got there.”

  Evelyn Morgan…you little cheat.

  “Oh shoot, there’s my order,” Marcy said. “The fish and chips here are to die for. A bit unhealthy, but you gotta live a little, right?”

  “No point in living if you can’t indulge in the sinful from time to time.” Donavan offered a polite smile while indulging in the fantasy of ringing Eve’s slender neck.

  “Well, see ya around. It was nice running into you.”

  “You too, Marcy.” You have no idea how nice. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  When Marcy was out of earshot, Donavan whirled on Evan. “She played me.”

  “So it would seem,” Evan agreed with a chuckle. “Getting played by two women in one day, how unlike you.”

  It certainly was unlike him. The horrifying image of Harriet Langly in all her glory resurfaced and Donavan flexed his jaw. At least with Harriet, he had an excuse for lowering his guard—he hardly knew the woman. But Eve he had known for years. She was calculating and shrewd. Two of the attributes he most admired about her had come to life and bit him square on his unsuspecting ass.

  “So, are you going to call her on it?” Evan asked intrigued.

  “Oh yes,” he murmured. “But, not just yet.”

  “You’ll follow through with the bet then?”

  “For now,” he answered.

  Donavan had a hard time believing Eve would be as noble when it came to him collecting on their agreement. As much as he didn’t like the idea of playing the good slave, he would have to until he got her alone.

  “But, Evelyn Morgan is about to discover that she isn’t the only one who can play dirty.”

  Chapter Two

  Eden came alive with patrons from all over Los Angeles gathered for the July masquerade. On Eve’s walk from the vaulted entrance, she counted eight different women wearing only body paint over their breasts, lacey thongs barely covering their bottoms, and scraps of white silk for masks over their eyes. Most of the men who weren’t submissive wore long black capes and did their best to pull off a classic masked bandit façade. However, there were a few people who strived to be original. Eve was one of them.

  The ball gown she’d chosen was deep purple and wine with a strapless bodice covered in intricate gold embroidery. A sweep of feathers matching the color of her dress sprouted out from the top of her Venetian mask fastened beneath a riotous mass of synthetic red curls spilling half way down her back. She looked nothing at all like the stuffy lawyer she represented by day. Tonight, she looked like a wild and mysterious woman. A woman who was still on cloud nine from pulling the wool over Donavan’s eyes.

  Eve filtered through the crowd and found a vacant place to stand at the glossy, black, half-circle bar. Certainly, she deserved a tall glass of Merlot after such a momentous win. Not to mention for keeping a straight face when arranging the time she would meet Donavan at the club so he could pay up on their bet.

  Leaning against the shiny brass railing, she flagged the bartender and placed her order. As far as she could tell, Donavan hadn’t arrived yet. He soon would. When he did, her performance as a Mistress would begin.

  Graciously, Eve accepted a long stem glass of red wine from the bartender and indulged in her first sip. Her afternoon consisted of four demanding hours spent with Caitlyn. After two hours of shopping for the perfect costume, a visit to the salon, and then a quick lunch filled with grueling but thorough conversation on how a Mistress conducted herself when dealing with her slave boy, Eve still wasn’t certain this performance would go off without a hitch. Although she spent time with Caitlyn at the club and harbored submissive tendencies, she had never had a BDSM experience before and didn’t know the general rules on how Dominants dealt with submissives.

  Eve pressed a shaky hand to her abdomen as her nerves played up and took another long swallow of wine. It wasn’t lack of confidence in her performance that concerned her. She could bluff with the best of them. Though bluffing against a man as experienced at sniffing out lies as Donavan wouldn’t be an easy feat.

  If it did work, however, maybe he would finally stop trying to dominate her at every corner. That alone would be well worth the money she’d forked out for the costume.

  “Red hair suits you, Mistress.”

  Eve’s lashes fluttered. Warm, sinful breath teased her ear. The voice was low and rich and unmistakably Donavan’s. As was the hot groin pressed firmly to her ass and wedging her up against the bar rail. She took a shaky breath. Even though the thick fabric of her gown she could feel his rigid cock throbbing in almost the exact rhythm of her thudding heart. Heaven help her, he was already rock-hard.

  Trying to ignore his obvious state of arousal, Eve slowly turned within the entrapment of his muscular arms. A striking silver phantom mask concealed half his features. Even so, she could see his gray eyes clearly. Soulful. Calm. Commanding. Damn, he was a handsome sight.

  Swallowing back her sudden arousal, she lifted her chin and summoned the best haughty Mistress voice she could manage. “If you sneak up on me like that again, Carver, you may not appreciate the results.”

  His sensual smile came quick and easy and Eve couldn’t help warm to it.

  “I’ll make a note of that, counselor.”

  “Good,” she replied in a clipped tone, though her blood was heating from his nearness. Why did he have to look so debonair in his crisp, white dress shirt and dark slacks? Couldn’t he have come dressed as a masked bandit like the rest of them? She’d never been a fan of those thin little mustaches.

  “I see you’ve already started in on the merlot without me,” Donavan commented. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “Not at all,” she lied, maybe a little too quickly to be convincing. “You’re late. I was beginning to think you were backing out.”

  He cocked his head and raked her with a gaze so thorough shivers bolted down her spine. Then he stepped closer. His mouth hovered within an inch of hers. “Did you honestly think I’d pass up the opportunity to finally bury my cock between those long, beautiful legs?”

  With the promise of his words, Eve’s pussy clenched hard and violently. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from moaning. If he discovered how wet his dirty talk made her, the jig would be up. So she battled through the unrelenting flames licking and swirling between her thighs and met his gaze straight on.

  “Have you already forgotten the terms of our agreement?” she whispered back in a snooty voice. “The only way you’ll be burying your cock anywhere is if I command it and don’t hold your breath on that happening. Maybe I’ll chain you up the entire weekend. Or maybe…” she leaned forward and lightly brushed his ear with her mouth, “…just maybe instead of you peeling me grapes all weekend, I’ll chain you up and torment you with my mouth and my hands. Then just when you’re about to come, I’ll stop as punishment for your arrogant assumptions. What do you think of that?”

  “I think,” he murmured in a rough tone, “you’ll need some very, very strong chains.”

  Quicker than she could react, Donavan’s arm snaked around her waist and he jerked her against him. His rigid cock prodded hard against her lower abdomen. A few inches lower and his shaft would be at the apex of her legs and a single thrust away from grinding her swollen clit through her dress.

  A burst of excitement rippled all the way to Eve’s toes. Her panties flooded and her legs wobbled. How quickly he could take control of the situation and of her body. This was not part of their agreement. She was not supposed to be the one squi
rming in her high heels. But she was.

  “Excuse me,” a feminine voice piped up and Eve welcomed the interruption. The woman it came from was so petite, Eve hardly saw her standing behind Donavan.

  “Yes?” he acknowledged without letting up on his grip of Eve.

  “I’ve been instructed to notify you that studio seven has been prepared for your pleasure. Both of your bags will be waiting in the room. This is the only key.” She handed it to Donavan and then as stealthy as she appeared, vanished back into the crowd.

  He dangled the key between them. The jagged metal glistened in a pale stream of neon light reflecting from the bar and a lump formed in Eve’s throat. Before Donavan arrived she’d thought this would be the perfect chance to put his doubts about her being a Mistress to rest and at the same time maybe have a little fun at his expense. Now, she wasn’t sure.

  Her reaction to him was far more intense than she’d anticipated and from what she could tell, he didn’t plan on playing the good slave. If he insisted on trying to dominate her for the remainder of the weekend, she would end up crumbling and her secret would come out. Steeling herself against his charm and advances at the office or the courthouse was one thing but face off with him behind closed doors?

  No. Spending the weekend with him was too dangerous.

  Fortunately, Caitlyn had predicted a problem like this arising. After lunch, her blonde bombshell of a best friend had stuffed a kinky article inside Eve’s purse as a fail-safe.

  “If things get too hot, use this. When Donavan sees it, I guarantee he’ll back out of the bet. This way, you’ll come off still looking like the proper Mistress and him, the welcher. It’s win-win.”

  Eve hoped to hell Caitlyn was right.

  “Care to check out the room?” asked Donavan in a low drawl.

  “No. No I am not ready to check out the room,” Eve answered quickly in the coolest tone she could muster. “You are the slave, remember? I will be the one deciding when we’ll go to the room. Now, that girl obviously gave you the key because she assumed you were my master. Considering the death hold you have me in I can understand why, but I don’t want that mistake made again…so,” she dug deep inside her small handbag and yanked out the secret weapon, “put this on.”