by Hannah Ford
Nicole was already sick of it and she wasn’t doing it all day long the way Remi was.
She finally sat back and rubbed her eyes, glancing away from her monitor just in time to see Red striding past her cubicle. He didn’t even turn to look at her, make eye contact, nothing.
She knew full well that he’d seen her, though. Red didn’t miss a thing, he was notoriously detail oriented. She’d heard stories of him remembering people’s names, friends of friends that he’d never even met but had heard someone mention years before.
Burning with rage, her pride mortally wounded, she got up and followed him through the maze of cubicles and out into the hallway near his private elevators. Luckily there was nobody else out there.
“Why are you ignoring me?” she said, as he pressed the call button.
He turned slowly, not showing even an ounce of surprise at her following him.
“Ignoring you?”
“Yes. We…” she looked around again to make sure nobody could hear her. “We had that time together. It meant a lot to me. I thought we shared something special.” She hated the pleading quality her voice had taken on, petulant, childish.
He studied her like a scientist discovering a peculiar new species of insect. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“I know that.” Her voice quieted. She knew she’d overstepped her bounds.
“Did you enjoy yourself this weekend?”
Startled, she met his steady gaze. “Did I enjoy myself?”
“You had some company. A young man. Was that also special?”
“My roommate was interested in his friend, so she insisted—“
He waved her explanation off. “Your time is your own.”
“You spied on me.” She’d only just realized he must have had someone watching her.
“I need to look after you,” he said, his tone softening. He came towards her now. “I have to protect you at all times. I’ll never let any harm come to you.”
“If someone was watching me, then you know I wasn’t with that stupid boy.”
He smiled at her. “I’m aware of everything.”
“So why did you try and use it against me?”
“I don’t like you putting yourself in those situations. Out at bars, bringing strange men home. Things can happen fast. What if I can’t get to you in time?”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, but inside she was joyful. Her heart sang. He cared. He was watching after her the whole time. He hadn’t simply forgotten about her.
“I can’t talk much longer,” he said. The elevator pinged its arrival. “I have an important meeting to attend to.”
“I—I miss you.”
“You’ve forgotten your manners again,” he chided, turning to enter the elevator. “I’ll be in touch.”
And then the doors closed and he was gone.
***
That night, he came for her.
It was only just after ten o’clock. She and Danielle were watching a Desperate Housewives rerun and snacking on roasted peanuts.
The apartment buzzer sounded, making both of them jump.
Danielle and her locked eyes. “You think it’s a mistake?” Nicole asked.
“I don’t know.” Danielle jumped up and ran to the window, looked down at the street. “There’s some fancy black car parked out front, but I can’t see anybody.”
Again, the buzzer sounded.
Red. It had to be, Nicole thought. She ran to the intercom. “Hello?”
“Be outside in five minutes,” the deep voice said.
“I need to get dressed,” she replied. But he’d already gone.
Danielle stared at her. “Who’s that?”
“I—I—It’s an old friend of mine. He just moved here and he mentioned he might be around but I forgot.” She started running to her room to change. He hadn’t been specific about what to wear.
“An old friend who drives a fancy ass car like that? What’s his name?”
“His parents are very rich!” she yelled back, running to her closet and pouring quickly through her hangers. Finally she saw something that might work. A black and white striped Nordstrom miniskirt. To go with it, a white sleeveless top. It was a pretty hot combination and one she would normally fret over. She’d bought both pieces a couple of years ago when she’d been determined to try and come out of her shell.
That had never quite happened…
She stripped off her sweats and undies, found a pair of thong panties, decided to go nude underneath and tossed the thong aside. Quickly, she put on her ensemble and a pair of short heels, then went to the bathroom to freshen up.
Danielle was watching her when she came out of the bathroom. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
“Nothing, I told you. I have this friend—“
“Who is it really? You’re a terrible liar.”
“Gotta go! I’ll be back soon!” she called, running out the door before Danielle could try and grill her further.
Danielle came to the door as Nicole ran down the stairwell. “Be careful!”
“I will!”
And then she reached the first floor landing and burst out into the cool night air. It was chilly and breezy and she was wearing next to nothing.
The car was a black Bentley, which she remembered from reading the Rolling Stone article. The car was running softly. She opened the passenger door and Red glanced at her. “Get in back,” he said.
She was about to say yes sir, and apologize for thinking she could ride up front with him. But then she realized he had come for her.
“No, I won’t get in back,” she said. “If you can’t stand to have me in the front seat next to you, then forget it.”
He glanced at her sideways. “Fine,” he sighed. “Hurry up.”
She smiled at her small but important victory, got inside and closed her door. He immediately sped off, driving very fast but in total control. Speed normally scared her, but not with Red at the wheel. He was as home here as anywhere, and his movements were all precise and deliberate, nothing was left to chance.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he turned one corner and then immediately into the next.
“You know where.”
She frowned. “Your little tacky apartment where you bring all your whores.”
That made him smile. “Whores?”
“It’s true. And I’m not one of them.”
He chuckled. “I never said you were.”
“And I’m not going there.”
Now it was his turn to frown. “You agreed to my rules.”
“You said I was free to stop at any time.”
“I can turn the car around on your word,” he said, daring her.
“Fine.” She eyed him.
He slowed the Bentley. He was wearing one of his dark suits with a bright pink tie. He looked dashing, like he’d stepped right out of one of those photo shoots she’d paged through recently. “What is it you want from me?” he asked her.
“I want a real date.”
“What’s a real date?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she told him.
His jaw stiffened. “I’m not playing anything.”
She folded her arms. “I’ll go back to your special room,” she said. “Gladly.”
“That’s better,” he smiled.
“After we have a proper date.”
Now he looked like he’d just drank liquid soap. “Fine. Have it your way, Nicole.”
He made an abrupt U-turn and took off in the opposite direction, even faster than before.
Within ten minutes, they arrived at a restaurant called The Davenport. A valet took his keys and called him Mr. Jameson in a familiar way. Red escorted Nicole past a small coterie of waiting patrons and smiled at the hostess. “Table for two, if you please.”
“Of course. Right away,” she said, scurrying for menus and took them right to one of the few remaining window seats.
“I’m a little und
erdressed,” Nicole said, after they’d taken their seats.
He shrugged. “You wanted a real date, you didn’t specify that I had to accommodate your choice of attire.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled at him. “I like this.” She started browsing the menu. It consisted of foods that she’d never had before, the kind of stuff she’d seen while watching the Food Network perhaps, but never in real life.
She was still trying to decide on something when the waiter appeared. He was thin, small, older, with a tiny mustache. “Mister Jameson, what can I get for you sir?”
Red took her menu from her and handed it to the waiter. “She will have the duck cassoulet and I will have the agnolotti with squid.”
“Wonderful choices, sir.”
“Also, a bottle of the Latour Pauillac,” Red added, handing his menu to the waiter with finality.
The waiter nodded briskly, turned on his heel and hurried away.
Red turned his attention to her now. He folded his hands on the table. “Do you like it here?”
“It’s very elegant. But it would have been nice if you’d asked what I wanted to eat. I was going to order the organic chicken.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you going to order the organic chicken?”
She hesitated, realizing she didn’t even know why. “Because…”
“Because it was safe.”
She frowned. “I like chicken.”
“Then you’ll love the duck cassoulet.”
“You need to be in control all of the time,” she said. “It must get exhausting for you.”
He shrugged. “I think it’s worked out pretty well for me.”
“It’s exhausting for anyone who has to deal with you.”
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m sure all the girls you bring back to the apartment love it.”
The waiter came to the table with the wine, showed it to them both, and opened it with a flourish. Red tasted it and seemed to approve, so the waiter poured them each a half glass and set the bottle in the center of the table before leaving.
Nicole sipped her wine. It tasted amazing, better than any drink she’d ever had. She was trying to decide if the wonderful taste of her wine was more an after-effect of being in Red’s presence. Everything seemed better right now. Her clothes felt sexier, her eyes sharper, she heard everything.
The clinking forks and knives as an older couple ate something unrecognizable at a table just over Red’s shoulder, someone across the room tittering laughter.
Red was looking at her with interest. “You’re so young,” he marveled.
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“Perhaps too young for such a complicated relationship.”
“And perhaps you’re too old to be playing games all the time.” She arched her eyebrow at him.
“Touché.” He grinned and sipped his wine.
A few minutes later, the waiter brought their food on steaming hot plates. Nicole ate her duck without any outward signs of hesitation, knowing that Red would be looking for any excuse to poke fun at her naiveté.
And in any case, the food was tasty; she did enjoy the duck after all.
“So what’s it like to be one of the richest people in the world?” she asked him at one point.
He chuckled. “It’s not too bad.” He considered it further. “You know I didn’t come from money.”
“You grew up in a two-bedroom apartment with just your mother and little brother. Your mother worked two jobs. You did so well in school academically and with your swimming that you received a full scholarship to Harvard.”
He looked surprised. “You did your research.” Red leaned over and poured more wine into her glass.
“I guess I have the advantage when it comes to knowing your past,” she said. “You know almost nothing about me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said.
“Oh? Tell me something about my childhood.”
He sighed and checked his watch. “Another time perhaps.”
“That means you don’t know.”
“I’m not in the habit of lying.” For the first time, his voice had an edge to it. His dark eyes locked on hers and she thought again that she would do anything to please him.
The waiter came and collected their plates and asked if they’d like any dessert. Red answered. “No, we have other plans for desert,” he said, staring right at her.
“Very good, Mr. Jameson. I’ll get your check.”
***
Nicole was quiet on the ride to the apartment, but Red didn’t seem to notice.
She was excited to go there with him. She remembered how it had felt when she’d come the last time. She wanted that feeling again, wanted to have his hands touching her in every private place, wanted to be naked so he could look at her, watch her, do with her as he liked.
But she was also afraid. What if he continued to escalate the punishment and pain he was inflicting? Nicole wasn’t sure that she wanted to experience much more of that kind of thing.
And she also didn’t like going to a place that was clearly designed for this purpose, knowing she was just one of many, many women he’d brought there for exactly this kind of rendezvous.
Red parked his car in an underground lot and then escorted Nicole up through an entrance that brought them out at street level. When they came out, he pointed across the road to a brick building with a large man outside in leather pants and a tight black t-shirt. He had a handlebar mustache and tattoos on only one arm.
“That’s Club Dominion,” he said. “A very interesting place. Maybe I’ll take you sometime.”
The bouncer—or whatever he was—glared at them, oblivious of who Red was, or simply not caring.
“What’s so interesting about it?” she asked, as they continued walking in the other direction.
“You need to experience it yourself to answer that question.”
“So it’s an S&M club,” she said.
He laughed. “That’s a quaint term.”
“Sorry, I’m not up on my fetish terminology.”
“I like to think of it as a school of discipline,” he said. “And for those who have difficulty learning, Club Dominion can sometimes be very helpful in providing extra motivation.”
“I think it looks creepy. That man out front? Ugh.”
“He’s really nice once you get to know him. Unless you’re one of his subs, that is.”
“Whatever.” She shook her head and walked faster.
Soon they’d arrived at the street where his apartment was located. The hookers were out in force again, but the little Hispanic man who Red had punched out was nowhere to be found.
They went inside his apartment.
Red turned to her. “So, you had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”
She crossed her arms. “What if I refuse?”
His eyes darkened. “I let you drop the formality while we were at dinner, but you can’t continue this way.”
She felt annoyed. She didn’t want to play his stupid game right now. “I don’t understand, actually. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is, we had an agreement.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t say I’d be going along with every little command you give me. I’m my own person, you know. Why does it have to be this elaborate production? Can’t you just kiss me?”
He shook his head and turned away from her. “Damn you,” he muttered.
For the first time, she was afraid she’d pushed him too far. “I’m just asking—“
He spun around and his face was a mask of anger. “Enough. Ask again, push me again, and you will never feel so alone. You think a few days of me ignoring you was painful?”
Her mouth got very dry then. He’d hit a sore spot. She’d somehow convinced herself that she was special to him now, that he was falling in love with her. But here he was, essentially telling her that he�
��d drop her like a bad habit if she asked one more question. And the worst part was, she believed him.
“Sorry, sir,” she said. “Sorry for my insolence.”
He was still angry and his chest was moving up and down quickly as his nostrils flared. But there was still that intense hunger in his eyes.
“Don’t you want to make love to me?” she asked him, finally. “Sir.”
His lips tightened. “I told you not to ask questions.”
“But I called you sir, sir.”
“I don’t want any more questions from you tonight. I satisfied my part of the bargain, now you will do the same.”
“Yes, sir.” As she said it, the tears came. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help it. The shame of it all. The wanting him, the needing his touch, and his coldness. She was just a plaything to him.
“Why are you crying?” he asked her.
She shook her head and turned away. Her shoulders trembled. Soon she was sobbing outright and she hated herself for it. Hated herself for her weakness in front of him. He would likely put her out on the street now and she’d have to find her way home.
And then the real freeze out would begin.
But instead of pushing her out the door, Red touched her shoulder. “Come.” His voice was gentle.
“Sir, I’m so sorry, sir.” She shook her head. “I’m fine, sir.”
“Come with me, Nicole.” He grabbed her hand in his and led her to the bedroom.
“I’ll get on my knees for you,” she told him, happy that he was giving her a second chance.
“No. To the bed.”
He took her in his arms and laid her on her back, and then he gracefully lay down next to her, still holding her in his arms. His dark eyes were staring into her own.
“Please, don’t look at me when I’m like this,” she said, tears still streaming down her face.
“Why? You’re beautiful.”
“I feel hideous.”
“No. No you’re not.” His eyes studied her as if she was a painting. “I don’t ever want to make you cry,” he said.