Perfect Submission

by Roxy Sloane

  Bates’s eyes narrow. “Yes. The assault. That would make a person angry, angry enough to fight back. Maybe even to kill. Hurting Mr. Clayton would make you feel better, wouldn’t it? You’d want to see him burn after what he tried to do to you. You’d want revenge.”

  I can’t even speak. My mind’s racing, desperately trying to sort out all of the memories of that day. Bates is making me doubt myself. Did I leave him to die intentionally? Am I capable of doing something so cold, so cruel?

  “So I’m asking you again, Miss Ashcroft. This is your last chance to save yourself. To confess before your case goes to trial. Tell me the truth. Did you deliberately set fire to the house that night to injure your foster father?” Bates leans across the table, fixing me with an accusing stare.

  “No!” I protest. “I didn’t!”

  “We have a witness who says otherwise.” Bates leans back. “This witness says you did set that fire deliberately in an attempt to injure or even kill your guardian.”

  “That’s not true. There was nobody else there!” I yell.

  Or was there? I don’t even trust my own memory anymore. Everything’s a whirl of confusion, Clayton’s face blurring in my mind.

  I can’t hold back the tears anymore. I break down.

  “That’s enough.” Grant stands. “This interview is over.” He takes my arm and helps me up, ushering me out of the room. The door slams shut behind us, but it sounds to me like a prison cell door closing for good.

  They have a witness. That means no matter what I say, I could be spending the rest of my life in jail.

  FOUR: CAM

  “They have a witness?” My voice rises in anger. I dropped off Isabelle with Keely after her interview at the police precinct. Now, I’m meeting in my office at Ashcroft Industries with the lawyer, Grant, and my private investigator, Jake. We need to figure this situation out, and I want to have a plan in place before I tell Isabelle.

  “Dammit, Grant, why didn’t we know about this? What the hell am I paying you for?”

  He gives me a look. “It’s been barely twenty-four hours since she was arrested. Now we know what’s making them reopen the case. I count that as a win.”

  “It won’t be a win until all charges against Isabelle are dropped, and she’s free to live her life in peace without the fear of being locked up in jail,” I retort angrily.

  I’m pacing my office like a caged animal, every muscle in my body tense as hell.

  I’m the one who’s responsible for her wellbeing. I let her down, and now I can’t rest until she’s safe again.

  “Let’s just take a breath,” Jake speaks up. He’s slouched in his seat, looking like he just got in from a hard night’s partying – and way too relaxed for this situation.

  “Do you know what’s at stake here?” I demand, turning on him. “Murder is a serious charge. She could spend her life behind bars.”

  “She was a minor,” Grant points out. “Even if she’s tried as an adult – which she won’t be – they’d be crazy to go for first degree murder. At most, involuntary manslaughter,” he shrugs. “That’s what, seven years? We could even get them down with a plea bargain. A couple of years, maybe. She could walk in twelve months on good behavior.”

  I stare at him in furious disbelief. Twelve months of Isabelle’s life, stolen just like that? Just one night in holding left her a total wreck. My girl is strong, but prison would destroy her. There’s no way I’m letting anyone put her away.

  I promised I would protect her.

  “We’re not taking a plea,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Grant clears his throat. “Have you talked to her about that?” he asks.

  “I don’t need to.”

  Grant pauses, like he’s weighing something.

  “Spit it out,” I demand, impatient.

  “Look, she’s a sweet girl, sure. But it sounds like it was a pretty messed up situation.” Grant shrugs. “Do you really know what she’s capable of? I hate to say it, but maybe the cops have it right. Maybe she started that fire, didn’t think it through until it was too late—”

  He’s cut off by my hand gripping tight around his neck. I slam him back against the wall, choking him hard.

  “Isabelle didn’t do this!” I growl, furious.

  “Easy there,” Jake says as he pulls me back. I don’t let go. I can’t. I’m in a red haze, all my anger focused on Grant, who’s turning red and struggling under my grip.

  “Cam!”

  Jake wrenches me away. Grant doubles over, wheezing.

  “Seriously, you need to chill the fuck out.” Jake glares at me. “We’re on your side here. We’re not the enemy. And this is nothing compared to the questions Isabelle is going to face in court. What are you going to do then?” he adds. “Put the prosecutor in a head-lock?”

  Reality comes rushing in. I can’t believe I lost control. This situation has me so on edge, I’m barely acting like myself.

  “Sorry,” I tell Grant gruffly. “I know this isn’t your fault. I’m under a lot of pressure here. And this case is personal.” I normally wouldn’t tell Grant something like that, but he needs to know this isn’t just some regular job, this is my life.

  “I can see that.” He straightens up, adjusting his shirt. “You’re lucky you’re paying me so much,” he mutters.

  “Consider it doubled,” I say, as a peace offering.

  Grant looks mollified. “I’ll head back to the police precinct, see if I can’t catch one of the detectives on a break. Nose around for information about this witness. That Bates guy looked like he knew his shit, but maybe the kid he had with him will crack.”

  “Good.” I nod. At least it’s a plan. “Call me later with any updates.”

  Grant exits, leaving Jake and I alone.

  He strolls over to my wet bar in the corner and pours himself a shot of whiskey. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose it like that,” he notes, giving me a knowing look. “This girl means a lot to you, huh?”

  “She means everything,” I say shortly. “Which is why there’s no way she’s spending another night in prison. I don’t care what I have to do.”

  Jake nods. “Understood.”

  I take another couple of breaths, still trying to calm down. “I can’t shake the feeling that Brent is behind this somehow. He wants revenge on her for leaving him. He was the one who brought the police last night.”

  “You think he could have dug up this witness, too?” Jake flips open his notebook.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. But the timing, it’s all off. What witness waits almost ten years before coming forward? We need to find out who they are. Grant is working the police angle, so you keep digging into Brent,” I instruct him. “Find out what he’s been doing these past weeks, where he’s been. If we’re lucky, he’ll lead us straight to the information we need.”

  “Got it.” Jake stands. “I’ll be in touch. And Cam?” he pauses by the door. “You need to keep it together. Outbursts like that, they won’t help Isabelle. She’s depending on you.”

  He closes the door behind him with a sharp click.

  She’s depending on you.

  Does he think I don’t know that? I’ve never felt so powerless as watching her get taken away in handcuffs. Never felt like such a failure as when she fell, shaking in my arms after her night in jail.

  I’m her Master. She’s mine to protect. But even I have to admit it goes far deeper than that. I’ve never given this much to anyone, never wanted to. And now, the thought of not seeing her every day… It’s unthinkable.

  Our relationship is more than what happens in the bedroom. It’s taken over everything, every part of my life. My heart. She means more to me than I ever imagined, and now there’s nothing I won’t do to save her.

  No line I won’t cross.

  I just pray it doesn’t come to that.

  FIVE: ISABELLE

  Keely has lunch with me, and stays long enough for me to pull myself together after the terrible poli
ce interview. But she can’t stick around all day, she has a life and a job to get back to.

  “I’m so sorry I can’t push these meetings any later,” she says, as I walk her to the door.

  “I’m fine!” I say, trying to smile. “I don’t need babysitting, I’m OK, really.”

  Keely looks reluctant to go.

  “I mean it,” I tell her. “I’m so tired, I think I’ll just take a nap. Cam will be home soon, and the doorman’s right downstairs. I’m perfectly safe on my own.”

  “OK,” she agrees, then gives me a hug. “But call if you need anything. To talk, or hang out. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m here to listen if you need.”

  “Thanks.” My words catch in my throat. Keely is being so sweet and supportive, but the truth is, I’m not ready to talk about it just yet. “I’ll let you know.”

  She leaves, and then I’m alone in the vast apartment. Olivia has been texting me to check in and give reassurances, but even her kindness adds to my anxiety, so I turn off my phone and wander the hallways, feeling out of sorts. It was Cam’s idea for me to stay at home and rest today. I know he’s worried I’ll have another panic attack or breakdown like last time, but I don’t feel the same blind panic anymore. Instead, I’m restless, trying not to think about what happened in the interview – and worse, the time with Clayton, all those years ago.

  I need a distraction, something to take my mind off the terrible charges hanging over me.

  Cam could distract me, no problem…

  I shiver, remembering the scene last night. I was barely keeping it together, but he knew exactly what to do to bring me back to myself. Just one word from him in that sexy, dominant voice, and all my anxiety seemed to melt away.

  And what happened after…

  I feel my body get hot just remembering. He knew just what I needed: the pain that focuses my desire, that makes the pleasure so intense. I was completely consumed by the incredible things he did to my body, it was all I could do to beg for more.

  I gave myself up to him, went further than we ever did before. But it didn’t feel dirty or wrong, it was amazing, the intimacy of trusting him to explore my most private places, to bring me to the edge of ecstasy and control my wrenching release. I’ve never felt so alive, so fulfilled, or so loved.

  It made all my worries disappear – but only for a while. Now, I’m reminded the reality of my situation. Besides Olivia’s caring texts, my phone is overflowing with faux-concerned voicemails from journalists and old supposed-friends, all wanting the inside scoop on the hottest gossip in the city. I haven’t even looked online, I can’t bring myself to see what people are saying about me.

  But every minute I’m cooped up here alone, I’m tempted. I wander into Cam’s office and move towards the computer. Just one quick peek—

  No!

  I force myself out of the office and down the hall. I grab my purse, and put on a big pair of shades to hide my face. I can’t stay trapped here forever, I need to feel human again, so I exit the apartment (grateful that Cam’s request for me to stay home wasn’t an order) and speed-dial the one person who can make me feel more like myself again.

  “Hi, Serge? Do you have room for a cut at three?”

  * * *

  I figure that some time at the salon is just what I need, and for a blissful half-hour, it is. Serge gives me an amazing scalp massage, and I relax while he blows out my hair. When he gives me a pointed look in the mirror and asks how I’ve been, I tell him I’d much rather hear about his week, and like the angel he is, he gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and gleefully recounts his nightmarish blind date from last night.

  The hum of dryers and gleaming polished mirrors lull me into forgetting everything; I stay hidden in a booth in the back of the salon and flip through gossip magazines, pretending just for a moment that I won’t be on the front page of the next issue.

  “We can fit you in for a mani-pedi, if you like,” he says, when my hair is a glossy mane.

  “Perfect.”

  I follow him to a chair near the front of the salon and take a seat. I keep reading my magazines, but slowly, I realize there’s a strange hush around me.

  I look around. The rich, perfect clients are all shooting looks my way, their heads bent together to whisper.

  “…last night, they dragged her off in handcuffs…”

  “…scandal. But you know, she was adopted from a bad family.”

  “Once trailer trash, always trailer trash.”

  “…I heard she killed him in cold blood…”

  Blood rushes to my cheeks. I want to bolt right out of here, but my feet are plunged in warm water, and besides, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.

  Act like you don’t hear them, I order myself. Fake that you don’t care.

  I turn a page, pretending to read my magazine, but the whispers only grow louder. I shift in my seat, feeling sick to my stomach. I wish I could make myself invisible, and hide from their accusing stares.

  Is this what it’s going to be like now? People gossiping wherever I go. Thinking that they know me, know my story. Even if we fight the charge in court, the rumors will follow me forever. I don’t know if I can bear it.

  “Isabelle? Oh my lord, is that you?”

  I look up to see Nicole and Lulu at the front of the salon. They’re dressed in their usual uniforms of designer jeans and chunky jewelry, with silk shirts and glossy hair. Their heels tap loudly as they come closer.

  “We heard what happened,” Nicole breathes, wide-eyed with fake concern. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine.” I flip my magazine closed nonchalantly and force myself to give a bright smile. “Just a little misunderstanding. Totally overblown.”

  “So you weren’t charged with murder?” Lulu announces loudly.

  Everyone goes silent, watching for my reaction.

  “It’s a mistake,” I say breezily, invoking my well-practiced mask of confidence. “I mean, think about it. It’s not true.”

  Their eyes burn into me, and out of the corner of my eye I can see people on their phones, too. Everyone is talking about me. Everyone is saying that I’m trash, a murderer, a joke. And just like that, I feel my defenses stuttering.

  “I should go,” I say, quickly pulling my feet out of the bowl and jamming them back into my flats. “Nice seeing you two.” I get up to leave, but they block my path.

  Nicole glares. “I can’t believe you’d show your face in public. I’d be too ashamed.”

  I don’t reply. I’m trying too hard to will away the sting behind my eyes.

  “We’ve taken your name off the committee for the benefit next month,” Lulu adds. “I’m sure you understand, we can’t be associated with any of this scandal.”

  “And don’t even think about coming to the meetings, either,” Nicole sneers. “We talked about it, and we’ve decided you’re no longer… suitable for our group.”

  “We did you a favor including you in the first place,” Lulu smirks. “We thought maybe someone from your background would benefit from our guidance, but we were wrong.”

  “Guess it’s just a case of nature over nurture,” Nicole snorts. “What was your mother, anyway? Didn’t she go to jail, too?”

  I grit my teeth as their cruel words cut through me. I wish I could come up with some smart retort, but I know if I open my mouth, all I’ll do is cry.

  The world I worked so hard to build for myself has come crashing down all around me as I stand here, while people point and laugh and whisper among themselves.

  I want to stay and fight back, but instead I grab my things and push blindly past Nicole, tears welling in the corners of my eyes.

  “Miss! Miss!” the manicurist calls after me, but I can’t stop. Then my foot catches on something, and I go tumbling to the floor.

  Oww.

  My knee slams hard against the polished tiles, but worse than that is the flush of humiliation as I sprawl on the ground, the contents of my purse
strewn across the floor.

  Lulu and Nicole burst out laughing.

  I try to get up, my knee throbbing.

  “I’ve got you.” A hand comes out to help me stand. I look up, blinking through my tears. It’s Olivia.

  “Come on,” she says, shooting Nicole and Lulu a fierce look as she gathers my things back into my bag. “This place is so over. Their clientele is pretty much worthless.”

  Olivia steers me to the exit.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “But you don’t have to do this. They might—”

  “Fuck them,” Olivia declares, out loud. “Under-eating, over-exposed pack of bitches.”

  I can’t help but smile through my tears. She’s so awesome, escorting me out even though it’s social suicide. Olivia takes me onto the sidewalk and hails us a cab.

  “Let’s get you home,” she says, nudging me inside and climbing in after me. She gives the driver Cam’s address, then passes me a tissue to clean my face up as we drive away through the Fifth Avenue traffic.

  “I can’t believe I ever thought they were my friends,” I say.

  “Shallow fools,” Olivia comforts me. “You don’t need them.”

  “I know, but still…” I shudder to remember the whispers. I’ve worked so hard to make my image perfect. Now they all know the ugly truth. “You heard what they were saying.”

  “And next week they’ll be gossiping about someone else. Just you wait,” Olivia reassures me. “Someone will get divorced, or a bad facelift, and you’ll be old news. But until then, maybe you should keep a low profile. Let the news die down.”

  I don’t believe the news will ever die down, but I nod anyway. “I just wanted to go out and do something normal,” I explain. “Try to forget what’s really happening. That’s why I blew off all your texts today. I’m so sorry, Olivia.”

  Olivia squeezes my hand. “Don’t apologize. Everything will be OK. And you don’t need those bitches anyway,” she adds. “You know they aren’t capable of having a real human emotion, even if their lives depended on it. Not that Lulu’s Botox would let her show it, even if she could.”

  I manage another smile. “Thanks again for rescuing me,” I tell her. “I owe you.”