by Cynthia Dane
She didn’t remember any Gerald Warren coming through the door. It must have been before Monica’s time. Since so many people owed Jackson money, she never bothered to keep track of them.
“I don’t believe it. How?” The Warrens were filthy rich. Why would they need money?
“It’s complicated. Isn’t it always?” Finally, Henry sat up, but he lacked the confidence from the time he walked into the room. “I’d say it was about… fifteen years ago? Maybe thirteen. Either way, my father pissed away most of his wealth with some seriously bad investments. Technology.”
“I see.” Lots of rich investors lost serious money during the Dot Com bust. Jackson made a ton of it.
“I had already started making my fortunes, so it didn’t affect me. However, my father was stubborn and insisted on keeping up the same lifestyle as before. So he borrowed money. Like an idiot. I told you. They’re always boring stories in my family.”
“That’s hardly boring to me!’
“I’m sorry, Monica. I should have told you.”
“You damn well should have.”
“But I didn’t want to…”
“Didn’t want to what? Scare me off? Fuck that, Henry, I thought you were pranking me!”
“Pranking you?”
“Oh God, forget I said that.”
“Look, Monica.” He put his hand on the desk, toward her, but did not move to take her hand or limb. “I’m sorry. I hardly ever see that man. I don’t know what my sister is doing with him. Maybe she’s speaking on my father’s behalf. I know they’re not in a relationship.”
“I’m confused, not stupid, Henry.”
“He should have not been there while you were. Ever. The conflict of interest right now is… a bit much.”
“I’ll say. You remember what happened at The Dark Hour.”
“Not only that, but I know what he’s done to you. I don’t like that man any more than you do. I don’t respect him, not even in a business sense. He’s legal, but shady. I’m not cutthroat like he is. I can afford to take my time with dealings. He’s like a kid in high school, fucking with people’s money and feelings.”
“That sounds about right.”
“I’m so sorry I made you feel unsafe at any time, Monica. I don’t mean to keep things from you. How was I supposed to tell you? I hoped that it would never matter. I’m not a keeper of my father’s wealth and debts. All I expect to get from him when he dies is some property, like the house and maybe the ranch in Montana. Oh, you know, that’s why he’s out west. Jackson doesn’t bother him out there. Only the lawyers. Ha, my father thinks if he ‘retires’ out west then he never has to face his responsibilities.”
“I still wish you had told me. You don’t – you can’t – understand how that man has affected my life. If your father owes him a ton of money, then I need to know… and your sister needs to know that if I’m there, he can’t be there either.”
“So you intend to go back there?”
“Now that I know you’re not being cruel to me, I may just yet. Not right now. This whole thing has dredged up a ton of bad feelings, and I intend on wading through them before I commit to you again.”
“Ah, Monica, I’m so sorry.”
“Besides…” She opened her drawer, fingers touching the top of a dangerous letter. “There’s something I haven’t told you either.”
“Oh?”
Time came to a slow as Monica pulled out the latest letter from Jackson. She received it a week ago, after a lull in which she received nothing. Blissfully. Now they’re back.
The letter landed in front of Henry. He snatched it off the desk, and Monica turned away. She wouldn’t look at his face while he read the filthy words sent to her by a terrible man they both despised.
She could remember what it said.
My dear pet,
It seems so long since I saw your gorgeous face in that man’s window. I was surprised to see it there that day. I didn’t think you would be there… not that day. And yet there you were, your angelic complexion looking upon me as it once did not so long ago. Do you remember? You used to look at me as if I were your god. I miss those glorious days. I’ve long come to realize how much I needed you as my priestess tending to my altar.
Isn’t it about time you came home? You’ve been having quite the sabbatical. Over a year since we last made love. Ah, do you remember it? That final night we were together? I never saw a woman covered in so many beautiful welts. Every time you cried out in pain, begging me to stop, I thought we reached a new level of paradise.
Then you left me, you ungrateful bitch.
I thought you had run off to be with Ethan Cole and his frigid whore. Not so. You struck off on your own, my pet! I could be content with that. Love you from afar, knowing that you were in your tower, secluded from other men’s eyes. And then Henry Warren, that arrogant son of a bitch… not only did you let him touch you, but I bet you’ve fucked him quite a bit. My soiled pet. Who else would want you but me and that man? Nobody. You are worthless to everyone but me.
Come back. Let’s put this behind us.
The letter crumpled in Henry’s hand and found its new home in the wastebasket.
“How long has he been sending you this shit?”
Monica had never heard that edge in Henry’s voice before. It wasn’t erotic. It was genuine anger, the kind that broadcasted that everyone should get the hell out of the way. Was this a voice he used often? I wonder what he’s like at work. She had always imagined charming Henry getting his way. Perhaps it was something else.
“A few weeks now. They started after we began seeing each other.”
“He’s trying to get to you, Monica. Don’t believe any of it.”
“I don’t.”
Henry shook his head. “You’re still bothered by it.”
“How could I not be? The man is a monster and won’t leave me alone.”
“I would suggest a restraining order, but…”
“You know that’s impossible.” If she couldn’t even get him for his abuses, then the idea of a restraining order was laughable. “Really, Henry, I’m not afraid of him. He’s purely mental at this point. I don’t worry about him trying to touch or kidnap me. What he did is too public, even if no one will punish him for it. No.. I’m more worried about this business of your father and him. Is it possible for you to…” She couldn’t believe she was about to ask it.
“It’s too much money for me to pay off on my own,” Henry said softly. “I’ve been trying for years. I pay some extra here and there in an effort to get my father ahead, but Jackson Lyle is shifty with the interest rates. Even with my sister’s help, it’s still too little. We’ve discussed it plenty over the years.”
“I’m sure you have.”
Henry stood, hands in his pockets and body turning from Monica. “This is not a pleasant predicament for any of us. Just… let me extend my sincerest apologies for having kept this from you. I should have been upfront from the beginning.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“Now I know why you’ve been so standoffish lately. I don’t blame you.”
“You’re not angry?”
“No. Nor am I under any disillusion that I’m welcomed into your bed tonight.”
“Maybe some other time.”
Before Henry stepped out of her office, he turned and said, “I’m not that man. I want to make you happy, not hurt you.”
A lump went down Monica’s throat. Don’t break in front of him. Now was not the time. “Thank you, Henry. I know that. I just need some time.”
Time. She always needed time. Like how she needed Henry’s touch to reignite her spark for life once more.
Now was not the time.
Chapter 3
The Princess Submits
The time finally came a week later, after Monica had more time to sort out her feelings.
Gerald Warren owed Jackson Lyle half a billion dol
lars. This happened long before Monica even met Jackson. Long before she met Henry. But Henry had known when they met that such a relationship existed. He continued to hold that information from her even after he learned the extent of Jackson’s cruelties. Every time Monica reached this conclusion, she shook her head and had to distract herself with work.
Work was always the greatest distraction. It was the perfect mix of her ideals and an escape from reality. She could live vicariously through her girls, who were a fun fusion of bratty women looking for punishment, harsh mistresses with firm hands and firmer words, and sweet subs who reminded Monica of herself. Wanting to please through submitting and serving. Wanting to receive pleasure from the hands of their Doms.
The difference was that, even though the girls certainly had their preferences for which roles they played, they could do all three depending on the client of the night. Judith liked to dominate, but would purr like a submissive kitten for the right price. Chelsea wanted to pout and push her Dom to the edge until he shut her up and bound her hands behind her back. Grace wanted to kneel at the feet of anyone who came through the door, but was as likely to stick a heel in a patron’s back if that’s what he asked for. And Yvette… what did she like anyway? That girl was still a mystery.
Plus, Sylvia still needed replacing. Monica had gone through the stack of candidates from The Dark Hour that Judith provided, but nobody stuck out as of yet. She needed a versatile girl who could fill all three roles. Someone at least intriguing to look at, if not beautiful. Someone with experience in the lifestyle but no real desire to pursue it for herself. Sylvia was going out into the world to be Mr. Carlisle’s full-time sub, probably. Monica was only a tad jealous.
Except why was she jealous? She had Henry, didn’t she?
Of course. Every time she thought about him pulling her into his arms and taking her for his pleasure, she died. Died in her heart, in her mind, and in the pit of her stomach. I want him so badly. The few tastes she had were not enough. His gentle side, his firm side… when was the last time she met a man who understood both of her needs so well? Her need to submit and to be treated as a human being at the same time?
Men were usually only capable of doing one or the other. One was too painful. The other was too boring.
Being single was better than boring.
Henry wasn’t boring. He was… problematic.
What else hadn’t he told her? Monica wondered this as she watched Grace be led out of the Receiving Room with a leash around her neck. Mrs. Andrews was way, way too comfortable in her new role as Mistress. Monica would laugh, but…
“Whatever is bothering you, let it go.”
Monica looked up from her leather chair. Judith took a seat in the one next to her. They were now the only ones in the room, meaning they could converse freely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You think I got as far as I have without being able to read people? You make it damn difficult, but I can tell when you’re thinking poorly about something. What happened? Your boyfriend hasn’t been around lately. What did he do?”
Monica snorted. Was it that obvious? “He betrayed my trust a little bit. I’m still trying to decide how quickly I want to forgive him.”
“Men will always find ways to betray your trust. Usually by withholding something from you, right?”
“I suppose.” Monica already had a bleak outlook of the world. She didn’t need more reasons to distrust every man who showed interest in her. “He thought he was protecting me from something. Nothing of his own fault. Family matters.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I guess I only wonder what else he’s hiding.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Monica was not prepared for this fifth degree. “He understands why I am not happy.”
“What will it take to make you happy again?”
That was a good question. To submit to him, without fear of betrayal. A woman could only put her heart into a man’s hands so many times before she had to run because he crushed it. “I needed some space.”
“The poor man is probably being tortured.”
“Hm, you think so?”
“His balls are so blue he’s on the verge of popping a nut at a business meeting right now. I mean, I’m guessing.”
Finally, Monica laughed, the image filling her head with the naughtiest thoughts.
Judith had to go get ready for an appointment, leaving Monica to her thoughts and admonitions to herself. I want him. So why aren’t I with him? Perhaps the time had finally come.
Henry returned on Tuesday, a day he had to completely rearrange to fit Monica’s whims. From gauging the desperation in his voice, however, he would have moved his appointments to the moon if Monica asked.
Although he didn’t know it, Monica had no intention of asking him anything that night.
Tonight is the night he sees my true self. She closed the curtains in her room and lit candles everywhere – on the dresser, on the end tables, on the shelves lining her walls. She poured wine. One glass, for him… although she sneaked one to calm her nerves. Suddenly she was back to their first night together, when anticipation nearly sent her to her grave.
Monica was hardly dressed to go downstairs, but dinner had been set for Henry to join – alone. A maid came to her chambers to inform her that Mr. Warren was currently dining with Judith to keep him company. Judith? Monica hadn’t condoned that. Nor did she really hate the thought.
Knowing Judith, she didn’t mean anything wicked. She was more likely sousing Henry Warren out in an attempt to get a feel for what kind of man he was. Well, she could do that. And Monica would get back to her plans for the night.
Henry was in her Château. He had no idea what awaited him, but he was downstairs, eating and drinking what Monica had arranged to be served. Meanwhile, she was turning her bedroom into a domain of pleasure, and the last thing to fix up was herself.
Her hair had tender curls caressing her skin. Her body was devoid of undergarments, only covered with a red negligee and a rose-red sheer satin robe that flowed behind her as she walked. She kept her feet bare, but her toenails painted to match her outfit. She wore no jewelry besides the studs already in her ears.
While she waited, she started a small fire in the fireplace she did not often use. Especially at this time of year. Yet it fit the mood of the room, and all Monica cared about was creating the perfect mood for when Henry finally walked through those doors.
He sent her a text message. “This is nice and all, but where are you? This girl won’t shut up, as sweet as she seems.”
Monica stared at the message until she thought of something appropriate to reply with. “I am waiting for you, Mr. Warren.”
She turned her phone off after that, an excited smile splitting her face in two. No, no. She needed to get her emotions under control. Wouldn’t do her well to face Henry with the giddiness on the verge of making her explode.
The maid returned fifteen minutes later to announce that Henry was finished with dinner and making his way upstairs – Judith in tow. Monica could hear their voices down the hallway. “Be sure she shows him in. Then escort Miss Judith elsewhere. Mr. Warren and I are not to be disturbed for the remainder of the night.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The maid bowed her head and showed herself out. Within moments, Judith’s voice rang through the chambers.
“Do take care, Mr. Warren,” she said sweetly. “I believe your lady waits.”
“Pleasure talking to you… what was it, again?”
“Judith. Don’t mind remembering me. I’m nobody around here.”
She didn’t say it with malice, but with a tinge of playfulness that told Monica she knew what she was about. Playing matchmaker, are we? That was usually Monica’s job. Hearing her girl say that made her realize that Judith wasn’t really a girl after all. If anyone were to leave the Château and go her own way, it would be�
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Henry knocked on the door to Monica’s bedroom.
She took a deep breath. Not because she was afraid, but because she needed to change the space her head occupied.
On the surface, this looked like it was all about Henry.
In reality? It was as much about her as well.
Monica opened the door, head pointed to the floor and her knees begging to touch the carpet beneath her feet. “Pleased to see you,” she said softly.