A Promise of Passion

by Maggie Carpenter

  “But I don’t want to let him down,” Vivien protested. “I know he’s waiting to show me the set.”

  “You will let him down if you do not feel better for shooting tomorrow.”

  “I suppose,” she sighed.

  “You will do as I say, and I will be seeing you very soon.”

  “Really? When?”

  “Soon, ma chérie,” he said, softening his voice, “but you must not say a word to anyone.”

  “I won’t,” she promised, “but I’m dying to find out what all this is about. Oh, shoot, someone just knocked on the door. It’s probably much my lunch.”

  “Then you go, and call me later. Be safe and sleep well.”

  “Thank you, Dominic, bye, for now.”

  Vivien rose slowly, and holding the side of her head she moved into the living room and opened the door. To her shock, it wasn’t room service with her lunch, but Harry. He was holding the tray with the sandwich, a thermos of coffee, some pastries, and bottle of painkillers.

  “Harry!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I knew there was something wrong with you,” he said softly, walking past her and placing the tray on the wrought-iron, glass top, coffee table.

  “It’s nothing, it’s just a headache,” she muttered, closing the door.

  “I don’t think it’s just a headache. You’re as white as a sheet, and you have been since I picked you up this morning. Do you suffer from migraines?”

  “Not really, but maybe you’re right, maybe this is a migraine of some kind.”

  “Whatever it is, these will help,” he said, holding up the bottle. “Take two after you eat, then go to bed. I’ll make sure you’re left alone.”

  She stared at him. He was saying everything Dominic had said. He was just as concerned, and was being just as protective.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be having lunch with Alana?”

  “This is more important,” he declared, staring at her.

  Taking the bottle from his hand she stared up at him, the unspoken question in her eyes.

  Are you saying, I’m more important than Alana?

  “I’m going to leave you to your lunch,” he said softly. “As you rest, I want you to think about something.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, feeling the stabbing pain moving across her forehead.

  “You’ll be here for a week or so, and I would like to get to know you better, and not just because you’re going to be the face of Bare Beauty. When you feel better, let me know what you think about that. I can give you the world, Vivien, you and your family.”

  Raising his hand, he smoothed it over her forehead, and leaving her with a soft smile he walked away.

  “Wait,” she called, stopping him in his tracks.

  “You already have an answer?” he asked hopefully, turning around and moving back to her.

  “Maybe it’s because my head hurts so bad, but something isn’t making sense.”

  “What isn’t making sense?” he frowned. “I was perfectly clear.”

  “But, uh, you and, uh, Alana,” she stammered, struggling to find the right words. “The way you were today, you seemed so close.”

  Harry paused, studying her face.

  “There’s a catalogue of movies on your television,” he said, pointing to a closed armoire against the wall. “When you’re feeling better, watch The Thomas Crown Affair. The original film with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway. There’s a scene when they’re together on the beach. That will answer your question.”

  “All right, if I feel better,” she replied, with a vague sense that she already knew what he talking about.

  “Hopefully I’ll see you at dinner. Have a good rest, and take the pills,” he said firmly as he walked to the door, “they’ll help, I promise.”

  He winked at her as he stepped into the hall, and as she sat down on the couch, images of his dazzling penthouse, the limousines, and the luxury jet that had whisked her back to London from New York, began swimming around in her head. It was all too unbelievable, and doing her best to push them from her mind, she poured herself some coffee and picked up her sandwich.

  As she ate, she thought back to his request that she watch The Thomas Crown Affair, and it suddenly hit her. The scene on the beach! Sitting in front of a fire, Steve McQueen admitted to the woman he loved that he’d been dating a girl just to make her jealous, saying,

  She was just a way of putting you in touch with yourself.

  “Why didn’t I remember that when he brought it up?” she muttered, recalling that she’d even used a part of the famous line when Dominic had spanked her on the jet. “Oh, my gosh, Harry Harrison actually wants me,” she sputtered, and grabbing her head, she wondered if she’d ever feel better again.

  Sitting in the small, intimate dining room, Alana was drumming the cloth-covered table with her fingertips. Harry had deposited her there, promising to return in a few minutes. Staring at her watch, she saw the few minutes had become ten. She’d had enough! Picking up her handbag she strode from the room, and deciding to go for a walk in the gardens, she headed up the stairs to return to her suite and change.

  A few minutes after she’d left, Harry ambled into the restaurant. He’d just rolled the dice with Vivien, and though he wasn’t sure why, he felt slightly anxious. He always got what he wanted, always. Seducing Vivien would be a piece of cake, especially with Dominic out of the way, but he couldn’t shake the anxiety creeping through his bones.

  “A glass of wine and a little playtime with Alana will see me right,” he muttered, but as he walked across the room he saw that Alana wasn’t at their table.

  Deciding she must be visiting the ladies’ room, he settled into a chair and signaled to the waitress.

  “Mr. Harrison,” the pretty girl said with a radiant smile. “What can I get for you?”

  “It’s, what may I get for you, Sir,” he corrected her.

  “Oh, sorry, Sir,” she apologized.

  “Do you remember the document you signed when you joined our happy family here?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you remember the part about making mistakes could see your bottom getting smacked?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she nodded, lowering her eyes as a hot blush moved over her face.

  “Bend over the table.”

  Rising from his chair, and lifting her scandalously short skirt, he revealed her black, french-cut panties, and the sexy suspenders that were attached to her stocking tops. He moved his hand across her backside for a moment, then dispatched several hard slaps to each cheek.

  “What do you ask the guests?” he demanded.

  “What may I get you, Madame or Sir?” she whimpered.

  “Correct. Don’t forget it. Straighten up.”

  Sitting back down, he glanced quickly around at the other tables. Though there were only a few guests in the dining room, while the girl did need correction, the scene was just as much for them, as it had been to scratch his itch of anxiety.

  “What may I get for you, Sir?” the embarrassed, but clearly titillated young waitress asked.

  Harry paused. If Alana had been visiting the ladies’ room, she was taking an inordinate amount of time.

  “There was a woman sitting here. Did you see where she went?”

  “Alana, the supermodel? Yes, Sir, she left.”

  “Left? You mean, she left the room?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Back over the table,” he frowned.

  The girl immediately draped herself back into position.

  “What are the three words at the very top of the Page Of Rules?”

  “Uh, discretion, discretion, discretion,” she bleated.

  “Was that discreet? Naming the woman? Stating that she was a supermodel?”

  “Sorry, Sir, no, Sir.”

  Raising her skirt for the second time, he delivered a volley of stinging smacks, eliciting squeals and a string of wriggles.

  “I will ale
rt the manager that you are on notice for the next month. Repeat the mistake and you’ll receive six strokes of the cane. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, clutching her backside as he turned to leave.

  Striding from the room, in spite of her stinging behind, he knew the waitress would finish her shift with a smile on her face. She had purposely made the mistakes so he would punish her. She would now boast to her friends that had been spanked by Harry Harrison himself. They’d grill her about every last detail, salivating with envy, and they’d make her tell the tale many times over.

  Standing in the grand lobby, watching the guests come and go, he was about to call Alana and find out where she was, but changed his mind. She had served her purpose, and he had no guilt at having used her. She had been richly compensated. Being named spokesmodel for his international hotel chain was a glamorous, high-paying job, and she’d enjoyed her stay at the penthouse. Shaking off his annoyance that she’d left, he decided to chase up Gustav, and marched across to the reception desk.

  “Mr. Harrison,” smiled the sharply dressed man behind the counter. “How may I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Gustav, the designer who’s going to be shooting here tomorrow. Do you happen to know where he is?”

  “Yes, Mr. Harrison, his crew just arrived. They’re downstairs in the dungeon you reserved for them. I believe it’s the medieval room. Let me just check.”

  “Yes, that’s the one! Thank you, James, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Harrison.”

  “Didn’t I promote you to assistant manager?”

  “You did, and I’m very grateful.”

  “The young waitress in the casual dining room, blond, pretty…”

  “That would be Susie.”

  “She needs a refresher course. Are you interested?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I’ve told her she’s on notice for a month, but a quick, sharp reminder about the rules might be in order.”

  “I’ll see to it, Mr. Harrison, and thank you.”

  As he headed to the elevator that would carry down him down to Dungeon Hall, the underground area of the Chateau that housed the six dungeons available for the guests, the thought of the manager having a training session with the pretty young blonde sent a smile to his face, not to mention, energy into his loins. It would make them both happy and satisfied, and keeping his employees passionate about their job was imperative. The Chateau was a Male Dominant, female submissive establishment, and in keeping with the theme, the managers were all men, and were in charge of maintaining discipline with the female staff. Everyone who worked there did so gratefully, and it was their sizzling energy reverberating through the premises that helped make the venture a success.

  When he reached the medieval dungeon and opened the thick, creaking, wooden door, he discovered busy bees unpacking equipment, and pulling clothes out of garment bags and hanging them on rolling racks. He heard Gustav shout an order and headed in the direction of his voice, finding him with the young photographer who had done the test shots for Bare Beauty.

  “Peter,” Harry declared, surprised to see him. “I didn’t know you were involved in Spank Me Now.”

  “I wasn’t until this morning,” he replied.

  “Raphael had a sudden…something or other…” Gustav exclaimed, throwing up his hands, “and I called Peter. I am thanking God every day for a month that he was available and jumped in. I will be grateful forever, Peter.”

  “I assume Raphael was the photographer you were going to use?” Harry remarked.

  “He did the original campaign,” Gustav explained. “You don’t know Raphael? Never mind, of course you don’t. There’s no reason you should. Now I just need Vivien to get over her headache.”

  “How did you know she wasn’t well?” Harry frowned. “Have you spoken with her?”

  “No, no, nothing like that, just the opposite.”

  “Sorry, I’m not understanding this at all,” Harry frowned. “What do you mean, just the opposite?”

  “Dominic called me, said she was in a bad way and to let her rest.”

  “I see,” Harry murmured thoughtfully.

  “What? This surprises you?”

  “No, I suppose not. I’ve given her some painkillers. They should knock it out. I’m expecting her to join us for dinner.”

  “This is good news,” Gustav nodded. “Did you wish to speak with me about something?”

  “No, I just wanted to make sure you had everything you need.”

  “Ah, merci, this will be a fabulous shoot. I can feel it. This dungeon is perfect.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to it,” Harry exclaimed. “Let’s plan on meeting in the formal dining room at around seven o’clock.”

  “Oui, I will see you there, now I must get back to all this. So much to do.”

  Turning around to say goodbye to Peter, he discovered the young photographer had moved away to help put together some lighting equipment, then turning back, he found Gustav deep in conversation with a young woman holding up a leather jacket.

  Feeling in the way, Harry decided to return to his suite and check in with his office. Moving back through the hectic room, doing his best not to trip over anything or anyone, he walked out into the hallway, but to his chagrin, as he headed for the elevator, Alana unexpectedly popped into his head. Frowning, he pushed her away, but just like the woman herself, her image proved stubborn.

  Vivien was tumbling through a bizarre dream. She was walking through a house made of gold and silver. It belonged to Harry, and he was handing her a huge key. It was heavy, so heavy she could barely hold it. Turning around she saw a door. It was covered in sparkling diamonds, and she knew if she was able to lift the key and put it in the lock, she’d be able to open it, and whatever was behind it would be hers, but it was taking a huge effort.

  A warm, lyrical melody made her turn around, and in the distance she saw a picture frame made from pink hearts. Though she didn’t know the picture it held, she wanted it, but the only way she’d be able to walk across and take the frame, was to drop the key.

  Looking down she saw she was standing on a cloud, and if she dropped the key, it was so heavy it would fall away. Raising her eyes she looked back at the pink frame. A voice began whispering, telling her to drop the key and move to the frame. It was impossible. She wanted to do both. Keep the key and open the door, but also move to the frame covered in hearts.

  Listen to your heart, Vivien, promise me, listen to you heart.

  Sitting bolt upright, panting heavily, her eyes darted around the room, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was.

  “Dominic,” she muttered, “are you here?”

  She was sweating profusely, and as she stared around the still, quiet, empty room, she realized she was alone. Flopping back on her pillows, she closed her eyes.

  Please come soon, Dominic, I need you. I need you here with me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When Dominic’s phone rang a few minutes after six o’clock, he assumed it was Vivien, but as he pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen, a flicker of disappointment moved through him. The caller was Walter Fairmont.

  “I have some excellent news,” Walter declared. “The documents have just arrived. They were sent over by special courier. It’s all signed, sealed and delivered, as they say.”

  “This is fabuleux nouvelles,” Dominic exclaimed.

  “I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “I’m almost tempted to take a flight out tonight,” he murmured, speaking more to himself than to his friend.

  “Why don’t you? Is there anything keeping you here?”

  “I would arrive very late,” Dominic said, quickly thinking it through, “but this doesn’t matter. It will be a very happy surprise.”

  “Do it, old chap. Why not? You only live once.”

  “Mon Dieu! I will. Merci, Walter, merci.”

  After recovering from her dream, Vivien h
ad taken a shower, and wrapping herself up in the thick terrycloth bathrobe provided by the Chateau, she padded across the room and picked up her phone. Though her excruciating headache had receded it wasn’t completely gone, and looking at the bottle of pills sitting on the coffee table she was tempted to take another.

  “I’ll call Dominic first,” she murmured, and dropping down on the couch, she touched his name on her screen.

  “Ma chérie,” he said happily as he answered. “How are you? How is your terrible headache?”

  “Not gone, but better, much better. Harry brought me up some pills. I think they helped.”

  “So you were able to sleep?”

  “I was, but I had the craziest dream.”

  “Maybe it was the pills that made you dream,” he suggested, worried about what Harry may have given her.

  “Possibly, the colors were so bright, and I heard your voice.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. It was weird. I’ve never heard a voice in my dreams before.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You said, listen to your heart, but it was more of a whisper.”

  “I told you that before,” he said softly.

  “I know. The dream was so intense, and it’s still with me. Actually, thinking about it is making my head hurt again.”

  “Then don’t, you will understand it when you’re meant to.”

  “I hope so,” she mumbled.

  “I have good news, would you like to hear it?”

  “Of course.”

  “We got the test results back, so we can be naughty and completely naked.”

  “That is good news. No surprise, but I’m really glad. I wish you were here, even if I do have this pain in my head.”

  “I will be there soon, my sweetheart.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “Dominic?”

  “Oui?”

  “You just called me, my sweetheart, in English.”

  “I know.”

  “I like it better when you say, ma chérie.”

  “Then, I shall always call you, ma chérie.”

  “It makes my toes curl,” she sighed.

  “I like to make your toes curl,” he chuckled. “Tell me, what are you doing now?”