A Promise of Passion

by Maggie Carpenter

  “Oh, sure, no problem,” she nodded.

  “Merci, and that breakfast smells very good. Already I am hungry.”

  “You’ll have some choices, but I’ll wait until you let me know you’re ready before I come back and take your order.”

  Heading back through the plane, entering the living area of their spacious compartment, he stopped at his bag and pulled the short, fat crop, then moved through the bedroom door, closing and locking behind him. Stretching her arms above her head, Vivien immediately spied the black stick in his hand.

  “Why are you…uh…?”

  “Did you think this had slipped my mind, ma cherie?” he asked, holding it up in the air.

  “I, uh, I…wasn’t sure,” she stammered.

  “I don’t forget such things.”

  Ambling towards her he let his robe drop to the floor, then climbed into the bed, but remained sitting with his back against the padded headboard.

  “Now, méchante fille, drape yourself over my lap.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Naughty girl,” he said firmly, fixing her with a scolding stare.

  “But what if the flight attendant brings us morning coffee?“

  “Nina will not enter our compartment,” he assured her. “She has been told to wait until I buzz for her.”

  “Why you want to do this now?” Vivien protested, her butterflies suddenly flapping. “Why have you waited so long?”

  “You were expecting me to spank you last night?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tell me, how did it make you feel when I did not?”

  “A bit weird,” she replied, dropping her eyes as she felt a warm blush cross her face.

  “Were you disappointed?”

  “Kind of, uh, yes.”

  “Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said softly. “The frustration, the let down, you needed to feel it so you are clear in your needs. Am I explaining this right?”

  “You are,” she nodded. “It put me in touch with myself.”

  “Ah, yes, this is a better way to say it,” he smiled. “Also, I am spanking you now because it will help you deal with things. I’m sure Alana will be difficult in the car on the way into the city, and there will be-“

  “You don’t have to say anymore,” she breathed, putting her arms around his neck and hugging him. “You know me better than I know myself. You’re right. It will help me.”

  He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her body against his. He longed to lay her down and ravage her, but fighting the temptation he gently released her and helped her into position. Already naked, she looked utterly delectable stretched over his thighs, and begging his rising erection to go back to sleep, he smoothed the tongue of the crop over her cheeks.

  “This will be quick and sharp,” he declared, “and we don’t want to make a lot of noise.”

  “I know, I’ll be quiet,” she promised.

  Lifting the crop a few inches above her waiting backside, he flicked his wrist, landing the leather swatch with a peppery bite. She gasped, then grabbed a pillow, stuffing it under her head. He waited until she settled before resuming his work, then sent the hot little tongue briskly across both cheeks, leaving bright red blotches in its wake.

  “No sniping in the car,” he said sternly as he spanked her. “You don’t respond if she is nasty.”

  “I won’t, I won’t,” she promised, her earnest vow muffled by the pillow.

  When her bottom was reddened to his satisfaction, he threw down the crop and pulled her into his arms.

  “You are beautiful and talented, and that hasn’t changed just because you took some time off,” he purred. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmured.

  “Alana is very insecure, she is afraid of you, afraid you will win the interview and she wants the job with Harrison just as much as you do. This is why she is spiteful. She wants to make you nervous. Take strength from her jealousy. You are above it, you understand?”

  “I do, thank you,” she purred, leaning into his chest. “My butt is so sore though.”

  “Good, it will remind you that I am here for you, that I cherish you, that there is no need to feel worried. Okay?”

  “Yes, Dominic, okay,” she smiled.

  “Now we will rise and shine and have an excellent breakfast. We will soon be back in your flat drinking cups of tea and eating crumpets,” he smiled.

  “Ooh, crumpets, yes please!”

  It was two hours later that they were walking towards into the stretch limousine that had been waiting for them, but as Alana and Vivien climbed inside, Dominic ambled toward the driver as he placed their baggage into the trunk.

  “Excuse me,” Dominic said quietly.

  “Yes, Sir?” the driver asked.

  “Would you please drive to the street address before going to Harrison Towers?” Dominic requested, handing the driver a hefty tip.

  “It’ll be my pleasure, Sir,” the driver nodded, taking the cash and stuffing it in his pocket.

  “One of the young ladies might ask you to go to there first. Do you know how to handle this if she does?”

  “You just leave it to me, Sir,” the driver smiled. “Situations like this cross my path all the time.”

  “Ah, merci,” Dominic said gratefully, then moving swiftly he climbed in to join the girls, and not unexpectedly found the atmosphere in the confined space frosty and quiet.

  “Where have you been?” Vivien asked as he settled next to her.

  “I’d left my wallet in my bag,” he replied. “I like to have it with me.”

  “What’s keeping that driver?” Alana said testily. “I need a shower and nap.”

  Vivien was about to make a facetious comment about how well she’d slept on the plane, but her tender backside reminded her to button her lip, so she leaned her head against Dominic and let out a contented sigh instead.

  “There you are,” Alana declared as the driver slid behind the wheel. “Make sure the Harrison Towers is the first stop.”

  “Sorry, Madame, that will be the flat in Kensington.”

  “What? Why?” Alana barked.

  “Orders, Madame.”

  “I need to get to my room. I’m tired.”

  “I’ll get you there as quickly as possible, Madame.”

  “Darn it,” she griped, pushing the button to raise the privacy screen, “he’s nothing but an order-taker.”

  “That is his job,” Dominic said calmly, “to take orders.”

  “Irritating, it’s just so irritating,” she grumbled.

  Pulling a pair of dark sunglasses from her large Yves St Laurent handbag, she slipped them on and leaned her head back. The message was clear. Don’t bother me.

  While Dominic, Vivien and Alana were traveling in silence into Central London, Gustav was arriving at Harry Harrison’s London office. Gustav liked and respected Harry. Over the two years they’d been working together they had developed an easy rapport, but Gustav didn’t doubt for a moment that Harry was capable of being absolutely ruthless, and Gustav made it a point to keep him on his good side, and in the loop about every detail, always communicating the information in writing. The world of cosmetics and fashion was a departure for Harry, and Gustav was shocked when the famous businessman had expressed an interest in becoming his main source of financing.

  “You’re an established designer about to explode on to the scene in a big way,” Harry had said, “and I need a change. I’m tired of the same old, same old. I want to toss my hat into this fashion world and see what happens.”

  Gustav discovered that the mega-billionaire was not just a numbers and contracts man. He was insightfully creative, and had come up with some brilliant suggestions in many areas. He also proved to be a supportive and generous friend, and when the Spank Me Now clothes hit the stores, and sales exceeded even the loftiest expectations, Harry had invited Gustav out for a night on the town in London.

 
; “You must bring the model,” Harry had insisted. “She’s dynamite! You know I love all that BDSM stuff, and the photographs, let’s be honest, she looks like she’s in heaven.”

  “I’ll do my best to reach her,” Gustav had promised, but he’d had to disappoint his partner. Vivien was back in the USA and not accepting calls. Ben Marshall, her agent, didn’t know when she’d be available.

  To Gustav’s surprise, Harry had pushed the issue, offering to send one of his jets to whisk her back to London, or Paris, if that’s where the model would prefer to celebrate, but in spite of repeated calls to Ben, the answer continued to be, Vivien is simply not responding to any calls or emails, so Harry had asked Dominic to see if he could reach her, but Dominic had refused.

  “No, my friend, she is in the middle of a family crisis. She doesn’t want to hear about anything.”

  Though Harry had tried to hide it, Gustav could see the man was extremely disappointed, and months later, when they began discussing casting for the spokesmodel for Bare Beauty, Harry had raised Vivien’s name, insisting she be interviewed for the job. That’s when Gustav realized that Harry had more than a passing interest in Vivien McKay. He wanted to meet her, and it was personal.

  “Track her down, Gustav,” Harry had said determinedly. “Call that artist again, the one you said is a close friend of hers. Make sure he lets her know she’s a top candidate for this job. She’d be crazy not to take the interview.”

  Wanting her back for the campaign of his new line of Spank Me Now clothing, Gustav was also eager to get Vivien back into the scene, but Harry’s intense desire to have her interview for Bare Beauty had become almost obsessive, and Gustav had breathed several huge sighs of relief when Dominic had called and given him the good news that Vivien was ready to come back to work.

  As Gustav walked into the elevator that would zip him up to the floor that housed Harry’s executive suite, his cell phone vibrated, alerting him to a text. Pulling it from his pocket he stared at the message. It was from Dominic.

  Landed safely. See you this afternoon.

  Gustav smiled and typed back,

  Thanks. See you then.

  The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and as he stepped out into the lobby, the pretty receptionist greeted him with a red-lipsticked smile.

  “Good morning, Gustav, Mr. Harrison is waiting for you in the conference room.”

  “Thank you,” he nodded.

  Heading down to the end of the elegant, wood-paneled hallway, he pushed the ornate brass handle of the unmarked door. The conference room was soundproof and had no windows, the light shining from overhead recessed lamps. The floor was thickly carpeted turning footsteps silent, and the table highly polished flame mahogany. At one end of the room was a large abstract painting, but with the push of the button it slid up, revealing an oversized monitor.

  Gustav knew the conference room was duplicated in each of Harry’s offices across the globe. Corporate espionage was a very real threat, and Harry Harrison trusted no-one. When a meeting was scheduled that involved sensitive information, the room was scanned for listening devices, and a security guard would greet attendees at the door. Before allowing them entry he would sweep them with an odd looking silver canister, a supposedly hi-tech device capable of picking up any microwaves emitted by transmitter. Many thought Harry took security too far, but he didn’t care, and if someone didn’t like his rules they could leave.

  As Gustav walked inside he found the billionaire seated next to his long-time secretary, Madeline Paine. Madeline was a handsome woman, briskly efficient, and scrupulously professional. Laying on the table in neat piles were various photographs of the six models being considered for Bare Beauty. He thought it odd that Harry was having them all come in for an interview when it was obvious he wanted Vivien McKay, and why had Alana also been flown in from New York?

  “Ah, Gustav, good,” Harry said, standing up to shake his hand. “Our marketing people should be arriving shortly, and the casting director called, she’s on her way, caught in the damn traffic.”

  “Would you like some coffee or tea?” Madeline asked.

  “Yes, yes,” Gustav nodded, “coffee please. I heard from Dominic Dubois. They have landed safely.”

  “Yes, I know,” Harry said nodding his head. “This should prove to be an interesting day. I hope this will day will see an end to our search.”

  “I hope so too,” Gustav replied. This is all very peculiar. Why are you playing this game? We both know you want Vivien McKay. Ah, well, I will hold up the pretense. You must have your reasons.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Harry Harrison had been described as charming, crafty, generous, engaging, nasty, heartless, wily, narcissistic, kind, impossible, and the list of adjectives was ever-growing. He was all of those things, because Harry Harrison was a chameleon. To achieve his goal he could become whatever the circumstances dictated, and the means always justified the end. Life for him was one big chess game, or, as he had once told an interviewer, a series of chess games, and being a master manipulator he was almost always several moves ahead of his opponents, but being a chameleon wasn’t the only reason he had become enormously successful. Harry Harrison had a secret weapon.

  Harry didn’t care. He truly, didn’t care.

  He had learned that if he didn’t care, he had the power.

  Do things my way or I walk, was the mantra that lived in his head.

  There was always another deal, another girl, another car, another house, another anything. He believed caring made people weak and vulnerable. It was safer, smarter, and easier not to care.

  It had been said that Harry Harrison was a sociopath, but he took no insult in the label. Many of his colleagues were just like him, but they disguised their lack of feelings. They pretended to care, hiding behind a wife they claimed to love, and feigning hurt when appropriate. Harry saw himself as far more noble. He made no excuses or apologies for who he was, and he didn’t try to hide it. That he didn’t care was a secret, because people didn’t believe it. They couldn’t believe it. It was too difficult to imagine.

  Harry did however, have a passion for beauty, and the securing of beautiful things. Having a passion for something and not caring about it could be seen as dichotomous, but Harry didn’t think it was, because once he possessed the object of his desire, he would lose interest. It was the hunt, the chase, the sealing of the deal, that he found exciting, and if he was offered enough money for the beautiful thing to turn a profit, he could part with it and not look back.

  That was also how he viewed women.

  There was nothing Harry wouldn’t to do win a woman’s heart, but once she was his, it was only a matter of time before he’d want to move on. Tears, recriminations, and accusations would bounce off him like a tennis ball on a racket. Nothing stuck, nothing touched him. He didn’t care.

  When he’d seen the sultry, sensual photographs of Vivien McKay in the Spank Me Now jeans campaign, he had been instantly captivated. He could almost smell the leather shackles that graced Vivien’s wrists, and the sight of the crop nestled between Vivien’s teeth had stirred his dominant soul. There was no pretense. He knew what pretense looked like, and the glazed euphoria in her eye was real.

  Everything about Harry was dominant. He ruled an empire, just as he ruled his bedroom, but like everything in his life, Harry had turned his love of BDSM into a money-making venture. He had purchased a twenty-thousand-square-foot Chateau in the South of France, and inspired by The Story Of O, he had created a five-star BDSM resort, catering to the needs of dominant men and submissive women, but in spite of the many delightfully decadent hours he spent there, something was lacking.

  The women would kneel before him, they would moan in gratitude as his flogger lashed their writhing behinds, they would orgasm with screams of joy, and all of that was just fine and dandy, but there was something in them that was flawed. Sincerity? He didn’t know, but when he’d stared at photograph after photograph of Vivien McK
ay dressed in Gustav’s provocative clothing, trussed up, and with longing in her eyes, he had seen perfection.

  Sitting in his conference room with his team of marketing gurus, the casting director, Jenny Graham, his assistant, Madeline on one side of him, and Gustav on the other, he could feel the growing anticipation take hold. Not even Gustav knew how difficult it had been for Harry to go through the self-imposed drill of meeting the other models, but now the hour was drawing near. Alana was scheduled at two o’clock, and Vivien at two-thirty, and glancing at his Patek Philippe Moon-phase Gold watch, he saw it was almost time for her to make her appearance.

  Several girls had come and gone. Each had displayed their portfolios, then outlined their careers with Jenny while the group at the table had watched attentively. Harry had pretended to be actively listening, but his mind had thinking about the delightful game upon which he was about to embark.

  The girl presently before them was traditionally pretty. Dark hair, light eyes, full lips, and perfect cheekbones, but there was little behind her eyes. It mattered not. For Harry she was only window dressing, an extra called in to give the interview process credibility. As she stood up and turned to leave, Harry’s gaze fell to her bottom. It was extremely curvaceous, and he could easily picture it bent over several pillows poised for punishment.

  “I liked her,” he heard someone remark.

  “I did too. She’s very natural, and that’s what Bare Beauty needs, a natural look.”

  The comments bounced around the table, and though Gustav joined in, he knew the job already belonged to Vivien or Alana. He just couldn’t figure out why Harry had spent hours of his enormously valuable time interviewing other candidates.

  “Alana is here,” Madeline declared.

  Her announcement sent the table into hushed silence. Alana was a superstar. The other girls might have been well-known, but Alana was in a league of her own. Several of the marketing team had been surprised she was even prepared to take a meeting, but then, it wasn’t just a meeting; it was a meeting with the one and only Harry Harrison.