by Tami Lund
“Your wish is my command,” he said as he began to load their leftovers back into the picnic basket. It was a term he’d once upon a time loathed because it was true about his life: He always did whatever everyone else wanted him to do, regardless of his own opinion in the matter.
Except this time it took on a whole different meaning. Whatever Shannon wanted to do, so did he. Especially if she wanted to do it with him.
Chapter Six
Well, that had been a brief but potent near heart attack moment.
The minute Leo had said he worked in hotels, Shannon immediately feared that he owned one of the properties where she met her clients. Sure, she was discrete, but she knew damn well that hotel employees were far more aware of their environment than anyone gave them credit for, and if Leo made the connection, realized he’d seen her at what was essentially her place of business, he’d surely ask the inevitable question.
What do you do for a living?
And she had no illusions that he would appreciate the answer. Men of his station in life did not hang out with call girls, unless of course they were paying for services rendered. And no way in hell would she ever offer that to Leo. If something were to happen between them, it definitely wouldn’t be a business fuck.
She would be all in, on an entirely personal level. She would let go, strive for her own pleasure, maybe even demand he give it to her. She would not blow him because it was part of their contract; she would do it because she wanted to, because she knew she’d get as much of a thrill out of it as he would.
God, how she’d dreamed over the years of having sex for the pure pleasure of having sex, because she was attracted to a guy and he was to her and there were no other underlying reasons.
The first time she’d ever had sex was at the tender age of twenty after being kept a prisoner for nearly a year in his basement, her captor wooing her even as he refused to let her free. She knew what Stockholm Syndrome was because she’d lived it.
And she’d been repulsed by herself, even more so when she moved into his master suite and for a moment, they played house. She’d thought that was what she wanted, to be a mafia don’s far- too-young bride.
Yes, even though he was thirty-six years her senior, her captor wanted her to give him another child.
She’d thought about that conversation the first time she’d had sex with Davit when he returned home from college and declared her “his” now.
As soon as Davit climaxed and rolled off her, she rushed to the bathroom and retched, puking up all her despair and humility and frustration because she’d let it all happen, and she hated herself more with each passing day.
“Here we go,” Leo said, guiding his SUV into a small parking lot next to a long, one-story building situated on the main drag through the small town of Lake Leelanau. “Ready to get your tasting on?”
He was so upbeat, so relaxed, so friendly—so very different from any man she’d ever spent significant time with. All she’d known were men who were hard, spoke mostly of business, and always took what they wanted, with no care for the consequences.
Because there rarely were consequences. Any potential for that was eliminated. Her captor had appropriately compensated her father and they were still business associates, on friendly terms. That’s why her father never looked for her, never found her. Shannon had been afraid to ask what sort of compensation he’d given, mostly because she did not want to know how much her father believed she was worth. Even when she’d been freed from the basement, given a smart phone and told she could contact whomever she pleased, she hadn’t reached out to her parents.
She had nothing to say to them.
“I am,” she said to Leo, and she pushed away the unwanted memories. That life was over. Every day was another step forward, another step away from her past. One day, she’d figure out how to make the nightmares stop, too, and then she would truly be free.
She could not wait to be that new woman.
They walked down a narrow sidewalk, passing under a sign shaped like a liquor bottle hung from an old tree branch, and then Leo held the door so she could step inside first.
The place was wood from floor to ceiling, with shelves lined with bottles and bottles of booze. The still was situated at the front of the room, and a bar sat in the middle of the space, old whisky barrels marking each of the four corners.
Instead of rushing straight to the bar, Leo trailed her as she wandered around the perimeter, admiring the merchandise for sale, from seemingly endless bottles of liquor to kitschy signs and sweatshirts and barware.
Peace. Comfort. Enjoyment. Relaxation.
“Thanks,” she said to Leo, offering up a small smile that probably looked hesitant to him.
“We haven’t tried anything yet,” he said.
“I meant for today. For getting me out of my own head.”
“Oh, well, in that case, it is entirely my pleasure. Any time I can be of service, you just give me a shout.”
He was trying to make light of her words, but she suspected he was serious too. He was a fascinating combination of the two emotions.
“Okay, let’s go try this Jack Pine gin you keep raving about.” She stepped up to the bar, and the tender gave her a wide smile as he pulled shot glasses off a shelf and lined them up in front of her and Leo.
Leo laughed. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned it once.”
“Once is all you need,” the bartender said, and he showed her a fat bottle filled with clear liquid, a pinecone on the label.
Shannon nodded her permission. “Let’s do it.”
They tried the gin, which was as excellent as Leo promised. And a vodka that was made from local cherries. Shannon was definitely buying a bottle or two of that one.
Then there was the spiced rum that made her want to book a vacation to the Bahamas and drink pina coladas all day. They moved on to the specialty liqueurs, cherry and lemon and Mackinac Island Fudge, and Shannon was pretty sure she’d died and gone to boozy heaven.
After they were done and she was probably going to need a box for all her intended purchases, a chuckling Leo guided her to the back of the distillery, where a second bar and several small seating areas awaited.
“They make all kinds of cool drinks here,” Leo explained “Want to order one and chill for a bit?”
Yes, she did, although it took her so long to choose that both the bartender and Leo were laughing at her by the time she finally decided on something called a Chocolate Fizz because she wanted another dose of that Mackinac Island Fudge Chocolate liqueur. Leo scooped up his Gin Ginny, and they headed to a two-top in the corner, next to a bookshelf laden with the widest variety of funny signs she’d ever seen in one place before.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said again. “I doubt I’d have discovered this place on my own. Now I’ll have a fabulous memory and a serious dent in my checking account for your trouble.”
He gave an exaggerated wince. “Should I make sure you walk out of here with three bottles, max?”
She waved off his concern. “I can handle it. I hardly spend money beyond necessary expenses and clothes, since the sooner I can save up enough to buy my own B&B the sooner I can…” She was about to say, “quit my job,” which of course would lead to the natural question, “Oh, what do you do?”
And she definitely didn’t want to have to explain that. Especially not now. They were having so much fun, she had no desire to ruin it with the truth of her life.
She took a hefty swallow of chocolaty goodness and said, “Start living my dream.”
He picked up his glass and said, “Here, here.” After taking a drink, he added, “I’ll pay for whatever you decide you want today.”
It was funny; she understood triggers. She’d experienced plenty of them since her imprisonment and then her less restrictive but no less forced relationship with Davit. Still, she’d not thought Leo would be the cause of one.
And yet, here they were.
Her hand shoo
k, splashing dark liquid over the edges of her glass, and a heavy weight pressed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe for a moment. Focusing on mopping up the mess she’d made on the table, she snapped out, “No. I can pay for my own purchases.”
Leo’s hand landed on her forearm, and she stared at it for long moments, until he gave it a squeeze and said, “Hey, Shannon, look at me.”
She finally raised her gaze.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. Honestly, I don’t even know why I said it. I guess I’m just used to footing the bill. I didn’t think. I’m sorry. I get it; we’re friends. I have no expectations. And I wouldn’t, even if I did pay for your purchases today.”
Her breathing steadied; the weight lifted. She shifted her gaze to her drink and focused on bringing it to her lips, to savoring that not-bitter, not-sweet perfection.
Leo teased her about her drink, reminded her of the other three she’d been considering, and a laugh burbled up and burst out. Suddenly, the day was bright and sunny again, the moment gone, forgotten, hopefully.
When they were ready to go, she did indeed need a box to carry her purchases to the vehicle, and then they were heading back to the B&B.
“Any plans for later this evening?” Leo asked as he drove.
“Why do you keep asking? You already know I don’t have any.”
He shrugged. “Don’t want to make assumptions.”
Fair.
“Are you going to eat dinner at the B&B or head out somewhere else?” he asked.
“What are you planning to do?”
“Uh-uh, I asked you first.”
She giggled. “You are so different from any guy I’ve ever”—she cleared her throat—“hung out with.”
“Hey, guess what?”
He waited, kept glancing her way, until she finally said, “What?”
“You’re different from any girl I’ve ever hung out with. And I think that’s pretty cool.”
She let out her breath slowly, staring straight ahead, refusing to look his way. And then she said, “I think I’m going to have dinner at the B&B tonight.”
“Sounds good to me,” Leo said as he guided the SUV into the discrete parking area tucked behind the establishment.
“What are you doing?” Shannon finally asked, because, frankly, she wasn’t sure what his response meant.
“Same.”
Chapter Seven
“Are you two here together?”
Dinner had been going smoothly until that question. The B&B had ten guest rooms, all of which were booked through the weekend. Aside from Leo and Shannon, there were six couples and one family, parents and two small children, who’d brought the wife’s mother along to babysit and given her a private room.
Four of those other couples had joined Leo and Shannon that evening for dinner at the long, antique table in Maureen’s dining room.
Shannon had gone up to her room when they returned from the distillery, and when she stepped back downstairs, she wore a simple cotton sundress, another pair of fancy sandals, and she’d added smoky makeup to her eyes, blusher on her cheek, and dark red lipstick.
Leo had stood at the bottom of the stairs and stared at her until she blushed and swatted his chest and told him to stop gaping.
But he couldn’t help it.
He’d found her extraordinarily beautiful without even trying; this stepped up version was enough to make him follow her around like a dog, sniffing at her skirt and wondering how in the world he could be so lucky as to be in her company, not even considering everything else he wanted to do with the woman.
With him acting like a lovesick fool and her light flirting, their focus almost entirely on each other, it was no surprise the lady who made the remark wondered at their relationship status.
He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped over the back of Shannon’s, letting her take the lead on this one. He didn’t care one way or the other what people thought, but he suspected she did, so he’d go along with whatever she said.
“They met here,” Maureen announced before Shannon had the chance. The innkeeper bustled into the room carrying a tray with an assortment of miniature pastries.
“It’s so romantic,” she added, beaming like a proud parent.
There were murmurs of assent as the guests all leaned forward and plucked sweets from the tray Maureen placed it in the center of the table.
“We’ll see,” Shannon said, tossing him a coy look that he wondered was real or for the benefit of their company.
Guests began drifting away from the table, heading into the front room to play cards or boardgames, or up to their own rooms, or into the parlor to watch television. One couple declared they were going for a walk and slipped out the front door. The family had long retired to their rooms.
Leo and Shannon took their wineglasses and wandered outside to the patio, where someone had started a fire in the small firepit. They sat together without doing much talking, and it wasn’t at all uncomfortable. He could get used to this.
He wasn’t here looking for forever. He was simply enjoying the company of a beautiful woman. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed, so he had no business letting his head get carried away with fanciful ideas like asking for her last name and her phone number and trying to figure out how they could get together again after this vacation was over.
Although Detroit and Chicago weren’t far from each other. Barely an hour flight. And his family owned several hotels in the city. If something were to bloom between them, it wouldn’t be difficult at all for him to move his office.
No. He needed to stop. He was acting like a teenage girl experiencing her first crush, for Christ’s sake.
“Why are you shaking your head?” Shannon asked, the flames dancing in her glassy eyes.
“Thinking about work,” he answered half truthfully. “And then telling myself to stop.”
She chuckled. “I understand. I’ve had to mentally shake myself out of those same thoughts a few times already.”
“What do you do, anyway?”
All that warmth, all that comfort, all the spark—everything disappeared. A giant black hole appeared and sucked all the happiness of the moment away, leaving him confused and Shannon stiff as a statue next to him.
Well, if that wasn’t an odd reaction to an innocuous question.
“I’m…self-employed,” she finally responded. Whatever she did, she was embarrassed to talk about it. He was naturally curious, but more so, he wanted her to relax. He wanted that comfortable atmosphere back.
He kicked out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and stared into the fire and said, “So how about those Tigers?”
She chuckled softly and the black hole dissipated. “Thanks,” she murmured, reaching over and cupping his hand. He flipped his over and twined their fingers, and they stayed like that for a long while, until both glasses were empty and the fire was little more than sizzling embers.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” she said, and Leo stood and stretched.
“Me too.”
As they headed up the stairs to the bedroom level, he asked if she had plans for tomorrow. She glanced at him and rolled her eyes.
“I think you can stop asking now.”
“What do you mean?”
“How about we just assume we’re going to spend the rest of our time here together?”
He grinned. “That works for me.”
“Good.”
They’d reached the top of the stairs. Shannon’s room was to the right, his to the left.
She snagged his hand, twined their fingers again. “Why don’t you come to my room, and we can discuss what we’re going to do tomorrow?”
Holy shit, was that code for take me to bed? To be fair, it wasn’t exactly subtle.
“I like that idea.”
***
This was the night, Shannon decided.
I’m dumping the nightmare. My past. The memory of my captor.
The man who slipped a mickey
into her drink at one of her parents’ endless cocktail parties. She was nineteen years old.
She had still been an innocent, something that was common knowledge in her circles. Men craved her for it, and women hated her for the fact that her as yet-untouched vagina somehow made her more desirable than they were.
Yeah, she used to live in a pretty fucked up world.
That night, it got even more fucked up when a trusted family friend knocked her out and then carried her out the kitchen door—she learned this part later. The staff, she was told, all turned a blind eye.
Because of who was helping her.
She remembered waking up in a pitch black world, the sort of never-ending darkness that only occurred in underground, windowless rooms. Even now, nine years later, thinking about it created an almost irresistible urge to rush to the nearest window and fling open the sash, thrust out her head and greedily suck in the night air.
Probably because that was the nightmare she clawed herself free of most nights.
She recalled waking up, lying on her back on a bed that was not her own, smoothing her palms over the thick, down comforter, noting its excellent quality. Whoever had put her in this room had expensive taste, likely had money. At the time, she’d had no clue who would kidnap her right from under her very powerful father’s nose, although that was a result of her own naivety, because, in retrospect, there had been signs of the man’s obsession.
And plenty more signs that her parents would let it happen.
She’d hated the dark, even back then. Too many horror stories told by older cousins who clearly hadn’t realized how young and impressionable she was.
And there had been no one to console her when she got scared, either. Her mother was a lofty bitch who was usually strung out on booze or pills, and her father saw her as another asset instead of a daughter who just wanted someone to love her.