La Brat

by Ashe Barker

  His relaxed approach and natural confidence meant that he could hardly be described as possessive but even that wasn’t enough. She wanted to be possessed, she wanted to feel he cared, that he craved her even a fraction as much as she lusted after him. His control irritated her. His unflappable calm perplexed her. He could make her scream, whereas she couldn’t seem to ruffle his composure at all.

  She started to act up, just to get a rise from him. She would arrive late, having spent ten minutes sitting in her car outside his house. He’d know—he had eyes and windows. Occasionally, he’d spank her for it, but usually he didn’t, as he knew that was what she was wanting. He wouldn’t be manipulated.

  She might drink too much on her occasional nights out with her friends, despite his clear instructions that she not do that. Afterward, he always asked her, and she always told him the truth. Then he did spank her, hard. Her personal safety was important to him. He wouldn’t compromise that or permit such carelessness from her. On one occasion, she drove home after four glasses of wine. Of course, she confessed to it, and he was livid. He made her wait for nearly thirty-six hours until his anger cooled sufficiently before he was prepared to lay a hand on her. Then he bent her over a chair, tied her in place and thrashed her naked bottom with his belt while she screamed and writhed and begged him to stop. He did stop, eventually. Eugenie was uncertain as to whether she’d ever be able to sit again. Her ass felt to be on fire, her every muscle stiff from her desperate struggles and her throat ached from screaming. She hadn’t used her safe word, though.

  Her face was wet with tears, and she shivered uncontrollably as he finally released her. Then he carried her to his bed and lay with her, holding her until she stopped crying and her body was still again. He laid her face down and massaged cream into her flaming buttocks, his fingers cool and gentle as they touched her tender skin. She apologized, cried some more and swore never to drink and drive again. He kissed her, then made slow, leisurely love to her. The matter was closed.

  Eugenie knew she’d never drive after having so much as one glass of wine again.

  Chapter Five

  Now

  Eugenie woke, feeling remarkably refreshed. She stretched and opened her eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar room that greeted her.

  Totally Five Star Paris. She was here in a guest suite, enjoying the understated luxury as she prepared to be interviewed for the job of a lifetime. She sat up, planning her day even before she was fully awake. Shower, dress, breakfast, then perhaps spend an hour or two prowling the lounges and public areas. She could learn a lot from watching the other guests, listening, observing their reactions to the hotel, their needs, the attentive staff. She could use these remaining hours to deepen her understanding of how this place ticked, which would be all to the good later.

  The afternoon she would spend back here in her room. Maybe she would shower again before dressing for the interview. She’d apply her makeup, subtle of course, since she was going for the natural look. She would arrange her hair in a neat, businesslike coil at the back of her head, fastened with a wooden claw she’d bought just for this occasion. She may have had only a few days’ notice, but she’d used the time well. Her planning had been meticulous.

  She was realistic enough to know that she may not succeed today, that there might be other candidates more impressive than she. But Eugenie was determined that she would not look back on this and berate herself that there was anything more she could have done. She would review her notes then probably run through her presentation a couple more times in front of the mirror.

  Practice makes perfect, and perfect was what might—just might—get her this job.

  * * * *

  At precisely three twenty-three, Eugenie presented herself at the entrance to the hotel’s executive management suite. The door was marked Staff Only with a button to gain admittance. She pressed and waited.

  A buzzer sounded, followed by a smooth female voice. “Bonjour, puis je vous aider?”

  “Bonjour, madame. Je suis Eugenie d’André…”

  “Ah oui, nous vous entenderons. Entre, s’il vous plait.”

  The buzzer sounded again, followed by a quiet click. Eugenie pushed the door. It opened and she stepped inside.

  She stood in an empty, carpeted corridor. Double doors ran all down one side. The other side sported a series of prints. She thought she recognized one or two of the artists, Lowry certainly, perhaps Monet. Constable’s The Hay Wain was unmistakable.

  As she contemplated which direction to head in, a middle-aged woman appeared from a door about halfway down the hallway and bustled in her direction.

  “Mademoiselle d’André, how nice to meet you.” She spoke in English so Eugenie answered in like manner, accepting the proffered hand for a brief shake.

  “Thank you, it is lovely to be here.”

  “You are welcome, very welcome. My name is Elise Rougin. I am the general manager here at the Totally Five Star Paris. I am chairing the interview panel today. I will introduce you to my colleagues in a few minutes, but first, may I offer you some refreshment?”

  “A glass of water would be nice, if that is not any trouble.”

  “None at all. Please follow me.” She gestured Eugenie into a small side room where a bottle of chilled water and several glasses sat on a low table. There was a leather couch, too—clearly some sort of waiting area.

  “Please help yourself to water. Your interview will commence in ten minutes. First, you might like to glance at this…”

  She handed over a sheet of paper. “This is the list of questions we will ask you at the interview. It is our intention to get the best from you, so we want to hear all you have to tell us about yourself. By letting you know what we intend to talk about, you have an opportunity to collect your thoughts, even make a few notes should you wish. You only have ten minutes, so not sufficient time to browse the Internet or phone your friends. Enough, though, to know that we have no surprises lurking. There are no trick questions. We are not looking to catch you out.

  “Also, if there is anything you really want to share with us that we have not included in our topics for discussion, please feel free to mention it at the end of the interview. There will be an opportunity to ask us questions and, following the interviews, our security team will conduct each candidate on a tour of the conference and banqueting facilities if you would like to take advantage of that.”

  Eugenie was astonished and impressed. She’d never come across such a practice before, but it made perfect sense. And it chimed completely with her desire to be as prepared as possible for this. She could not have asked for a better start.

  “Thank you. I—”

  Madame Rougin raised a hand in friendly dismissal. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I will be back in ten minutes.” She closed the door quietly as she left.

  Eugenie poured herself a glass of water and wasted no time in perusing the list of questions. Relief washed over her. She could offer a decent response for all of these issues.

  She had several ideas about how she’d approach growing the corporate events side of the Totally Five Star Hotels. She had read up on recent and current trends in the hospitality industry and was familiar with the main areas of European Union legislation relating to public safety. And she could manage the equality and diversity stuff readily enough. She had a list of her own training needs, which she had already recognized for herself, and by asking her about this, the Totally Five Star chain seemed intent on developing their employees’ skills.

  The final question delighted her. They intended to ask her to imagine herself five years in the future. Those had been the best years she could possibly hope for both professionally and personally. She was to look back and pick out for them the reasons why those years had been so good, what had gone well, what had she done to create such success? And what did she intend for the following five years?

  It was a clever way to ask the question, engaging candidates’ imaginations and flair as w
ell as their professional skills. Eugenie knew she could craft an impressive response. She spent the next few minutes scribbling feverish notes on the reverse of the sheet and looked up in surprise when the door opened again.

  “We are ready for you now. Please come with me.” Madame Rougin stood in the doorway holding the door open for her.

  Eugenie put the cap back on her pen, picked up her notes and the sheet she’d brought with her outlining her presentation, then she followed Madame Rougin.

  * * * *

  The interview had gone well. Better than well—it had been a dream. Eugenie knew she’d done herself justice and could tell by the reactions of the panel that they were impressed. She was particularly encouraged by the quiet, friendly smile and occasional nods from the hotel’s medical officer, introduced as Fleur Mansouri. She seemed especially interested in Eugenie’s ideas for adding childcare and play facilities which would enable delegates to bring their families to events. The other member of the panel, Pierre Rivaux, was in charge of finance and admin, including human resources. He quizzed Eugenie carefully regarding her projected out-turn figures, and he was keen to explore her grasp of promotion and marketing. He seemed well satisfied with her responses.

  Madame Rougin concentrated on the development and strategy aspects of the interview, and was forensic in her questions on that final topic. Eugenie was glad of her notes and felt she gave a good account of herself. As the interview drew to a close, she asked a couple of questions of her own about the management structure and Totally Five Star’s policies on conservation and carbon emissions. Not her central area of concern, but these were important matters to her even so.

  “Thank you, Miss d’André. That concludes all our questions for you. Do you have anything else you’d like to mention before we finish?” Madame Rougin smiled across the interview table as she rearranged her notes into a neat pile.

  Eugenie had observed that the hotel manager had been writing a lot during her interview, and she took it to be a promising sign. “No, I think that’s everything I wanted to say. Do you know when you’ll be making your decision?”

  “Soon. Today, probably. We have another candidate to see and we met with three before you. We are hoping to be able to let the successful candidate know by tomorrow or the day after—subject to getting verbal references. Do we have a mobile phone number for you, Miss D’andré? Ah yes, here it is, on your application form.”

  Her smile remained pleasant, but Eugenie knew the interview was concluded and the panel had to move on now to the next and final candidate. She would not outstay her welcome by stretching out the time. She stood and held out her hand to Madame Rougin.

  “Thank you for inviting me here to meet you. This is a beautiful hotel. May I wish you every success, whatever your decision.”

  The hotel manager shook her hand, her smile unwavering. Eugenie took her leave of the other two panel members as the door opened at her back.

  Madame Rougin glanced toward the door. “Ah, thank you. Miss d’André, you did say you wanted to make a tour of the conference and business center facilities, did you not?”

  “Yes, I would appreciate that.”

  “You are honored. Our director of security is here to conduct you personally, it would seem. May I introduce…”

  Eugenie turned. The smile of welcome died on her face.

  Aaron Praed.

  “Miss d’André and I have met before. In England. You look well, Eugenie.”

  His slow, easy drawl drifted across the room, the modulated tones in sharp contrast to her own breathless stuttering.

  Stunned, incoherent, Eugenie could only gape at him. The careful, perfectly orchestrated poise that had served her so well for the last hour deserted her entirely.

  “Aaron! What? I mean, how…? I thought you were in England, in the police.” She stood rooted to the spot, staring at him, incredulous. So much for not wasting any more of the panel’s time.

  “I decided on a career change. Are you ready for the tour?”

  “I, what…?”

  “Miss d’André, are you all right? If you’d prefer a different escort, I am sure Monsieur Praed could assign another member of his staff…?” Doctor Mansouri, her face etched with concern, had come around the table and now touched Eugenie’s elbow.

  “No. Yes, I mean… That is…” Her sophisticated persona lay in tatters. Eugenie could have wept were it not for the absolute certainty that this would only serve to convince the panel that she was in fact a total idiot, nothing more than an overemotional impostor attempting to hoodwink them into thinking she might be able to hold down a responsible position in their pristine, slick organization. Certainly, that was how she felt in that moment, confronted by a man she never expected to see again.

  A Dom she’d loved. And lost in such spectacular fashion.

  It was ironic in the circumstances that Aaron should be the one to rescue her, to salvage her pride. Or maybe he always had. He closed the distance between them in seconds to place his hand under her elbow. “Would you like to follow me, Eugenie? I’m sure you’ll find our facilities of interest—and impressive too. The TFS ballroom holds eight hundred guests, sufficient for more or less any gathering. Smaller suites offer more intimate surroundings…”

  He propelled her from the room, all the while murmuring his cover story of a sales pitch, which she realized was intended to distract attention from her until she could recover her wits. She exited the room beside him to be ushered along the carpeted hallway and out of the executive suite. Once back in the public lounge, Aaron guided her to a low couch at one end of the room. He gestured to one of the waitstaff, and in moments a jug of ice water and a glass materialized in front of her. He poured her a drink and sat back while she sipped it.

  “Better now?” He took the glass from her.

  Eugenie met his eyes for the first time since that initial flash of stunned recognition. “Thank you. Yes. You surprised me, that’s all. I hadn’t expected to see you again.”

  “Evidently. Not so much a surprise as a shock, I’d say. Am I still so terrifying to you?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Well, that’s good then. Shall we continue?”

  Eugenie was beginning to think there really was no point in pursuing the tour. Even if she hadn’t entirely ruined her chances with that ridiculous display back in the interview room, Aaron was sure to be consulted about his opinion and he wasn’t likely to give her a glittering testimony. She could imagine it now.

  A promising candidate, were it not for her propensity to take dangerous risks and refuse to accept the consequences of her mistakes. Won’t even submit to a well-earned caning. Given to episodes of violence when provoked.

  It was true enough, fair comment even. She had broken the cardinal rule in the submissives’ handbook. Thou shalt not attack thy Dom—especially not with his own cane.

  Despite her fatalistic acceptance that this glorious dream was to end in ignoble failure, Eugenie followed Aaron as he conducted her through the conference and events suite. She hadn’t really listened to his remarks as he scooped her from the interview room so he repeated the patter, drawing her attention to the dimensions of the ballroom, the flexibility of the various other meeting and banqueting facilities. All were tastefully furnished, provided with audio and HD video facilities, staging, a range of seating styles and, of course, ready access to refreshments. Despite her inner turmoil, Eugenie was impressed. The video tour she’d watched back in her apartment did little justice to the real thing. Totally Five Star Paris was quite simply superb.

  But it was not for her. Not now. Not ever. Aaron would see to that. If he hadn’t already.

  Chapter Six

  Aaron took more pleasure than he’d expected he would in seeing Eugenie again. She looked to have lost weight, but she was still a sexy little package. He wondered if she was still in the lifestyle but thought probably not. He hoped not, if her last encounter with him was any indication of her approach. Submission di
d not come naturally to Eugenie d’André. Which was a pity, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “You didn’t seem surprised to see me. You knew I was one of the candidates.”

  It was a statement, not a question. Aaron paused at the door to the small lecture theater to answer her. “Of course. As Head of Security, it’s my job to run background checks on all the candidates.”

  “Yet I was still invited for an interview. Why?”

  “Elise was very impressed with your application. You look good on paper.” And in the flesh.

  “They won’t offer the job to me now. I made an absolute fool of myself.”

  “Not absolute, I’d say.”

  “I would. And even if I hadn’t…”

  He was interested in the play of emotions flitting across her face—annoyance, frustration and disappointment? Yes, disappointment dominated. She met his eyes again, squaring her shoulders. “I need to go back to my room now. I have to pack and check out.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I see. What time’s your train? You are on Eurostar, I assume?”

  “Yes. Eight o’clock.”

  He knew she was lying. Her claim for travel expenses had passed across his desk as part of the security check. He knew full well her train didn’t leave until after ten. Clearly, she was desperate to get away from him—and not for the first time. He inclined his head and gestured her toward the lift.

  He had to admire her powers of recovery as she made her way across the expanse of deep pile carpet. The seductive sway of her hips had lost none of its allure. The determined set of her chin was familiar too. She held her back ramrod straight, the very picture of dignity in defeat, though why she appeared so convinced her application would fail was beyond him. As far as he was aware—both from what he’d read of the candidates and the comments of his colleagues as they’d agreed on the short list—she was the standout candidate, the one to beat.