The dress we’d chosen for my big night was an elegant black full-length evening gown. It featured off-the-shoulder, three-quarter length sleeves that clung to my arms, and a plunging sweetheart neckline. The dress had an empire waist that was accented with a sparkling chain belt. My newly styled hair cascaded down my back in a tide of thick black curls. The makeup Cheryl had requested was perfectly understated and elegant, with soft shades of gray and a strong black eyeliner highlighting my slate blue eyes. Cheryl’s choice of lip color, a deep crimson, finished the look.
I added the final touch: the lariat diamond necklace M had given me. The dress’s dramatic neckline beautifully showcased the plunging teardrop diamond. When I looked in the mirror to check everything, I wasn’t surprised by how beautiful I looked. To be honest, I expected it. Not only had I grown to appreciate my beauty during my time serving M, but I spent a small fortune to ensure I would look amazing for the fundraiser. After all, I figured I had only a single shot at getting M’s attention. If this didn’t work, there would be no second chance.
The event was being held at Ryan Dorrance’s Forest Park estate. I pulled into the driveway and continued until I arrived at the huge Mediterranean style mansion. My heart was pounding as I handed my keys to the valet and noticed a garage with spaces for six vehicles — what in the world was I doing here? I didn’t really belong in this world, did I? My research had told me that Dorrance purchased the house in 2005 for just under four million dollars. I knew it had more than twenty thousand square feet of living space, but it wasn’t until I was ushered through the front door that I realized just how immense that was. I stepped into a foyer with a huge curving stairway and a large, ornate antique mirror hanging on the wall at the foot of the stairs. As I walked past, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Despite the anxious look on my face, I couldn’t have possibly been more radiant. It was time to meet M in person and let him see the woman he helped to create.
Just beyond the foyer was the great room where the fundraiser was taking place. A large crowd of elegantly dressed people socialized while a handful of servers plied them with Champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I froze, suddenly terrified about running into Ryan Dorrance — despite that being the sole reason I was there. I silently rehearsed my carefully scripted lines, but there was no guarantee he would give me the chance to say them. In fact, I might not even see him at all.
My hand trembled as I took a glass of Champagne from a passing tray and began to make my way around the room. I continuously scanned the crowd for Ryan Dorrance, and while I did see a handful of local celebrities, he was nowhere to be found. I made small talk with a few men who approached me and was surprised at what little effect their flirting had on me. When you’re focused on one specific man, the others don’t seem nearly as intimidating.
Dorrance’s estate was astounding and everything was beautifully appointed. Between the wealth on display and the people gathered there, it was a little overwhelming and I stepped out onto a terrace to get some fresh air.
The summer night air felt cool against my exposed shoulders and cleavage as I surveyed the vast, immaculately landscaped grounds behind the house. Across the terrace a handful of people were gathered in conversation. They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear them, save for an occasional word or two. The Champagne had calmed me a little, but I was still jittery and restless as I tried to focus on the task at hand. My goal was to locate Dorrance and muster the strength to deliver the first part of my planned message: “Hi, Ryan. Could we speak alone for a minute?” Hopefully, that would win me the time needed to recite the rest of it.
My visualizing was interrupted by a short phrase uttered by a voice I instantly recognized as M’s. My head spun toward the group just in time to see one of the men walking into the house. The thumping in my veins signaled that I’d found him, but in an instant he was gone. I re-entered the house through a different door and scanned the crowd in the great room, but didn’t see Ryan Dorrance anywhere. He had been wearing a black tuxedo and bow tie with a white shirt — like nearly every other man in the room.
My heart was pounding so hard I could practically hear the blood coursing through my veins. I watched as an elegant older woman stepped up onto a makeshift stage and took the podium, speaking momentarily into a silent microphone before someone helped her find the switch.
“Can you hear me? Okay, that’s better. I’d like to welcome you all to the fundraiser for St. Augustine’s Children’s Burn Unit. Ryan will be up soon, but first we’ll be hearing from some other people who play a big role in the CBU…”
So Dorrance would be making a speech. Perhaps if he saw me standing in the crowd, he would approach me to find out why I was in his house, and then maybe I could talk to him.
The older woman was followed by a man and then another woman who stepped up to the podium to speak. I continued to scour the faces in the room in hopes of spotting Dorrance again, but never found him. A server walked by with a tray of Champagne glasses and I took another, telling myself to drink it slowly. Although I wanted to settle my nerves, I needed to remain sober and coherent.
As I scanned the crowd someone bumped me from behind. I turned to see who the clumsy dolt was and my heart nearly stopped.
I was looking into the eyes of Ryan Dorrance. I’d found M.
He began to apologize for having accidentally bumped me then stopped cold, his eyes locked on me.
He recognizes me! Oh my god, I thought.
I couldn’t breathe as I stared at him, my mind entirely blank apart from the face in front of me. I tried to remember my opening line.
“Hi, Ryan. Could we spea—”
“There you are!” said another man, grabbing Ryan by the arm. “Come on, it’s show time!” I saw the confusion in his eyes as he was led away from me. My entire body was tingling and I had to force myself to take slow breaths to avoid passing out.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you tonight’s host, Ryan Dorrance!” said the woman at the microphone. The crowd applauded as Ryan — M! — approached the podium while continuing to stare at me. I did the only thing I could think to do at that moment and tried to smile at him. When I did, he lowered his gaze and took a deep breath, then looked directly ahead and began his prepared speech.
“Hello, everyone, and thank you for coming tonight. It means a great deal to me, and more importantly it means a great deal to the thousands of unfortunate kids who have been, or one day will be, treated at St. Augustine’s Children’s Burn Unit.”
As he spoke, Ryan purposely avoided looking in my direction. At the end of his speech, he presented the older woman who’d kicked off the speeches with a donation of ten million dollars and urged everyone in attendance to give as generously as possible to the worthy cause. Having recovered his composure, he now looked powerful, even a little heroic.
Leaving the stage he was quickly surrounded by people shaking his hand and clapping him on the back. I watched as he spoke to each then artfully moved on to the next without alienating anyone, a skill he had obviously mastered. I saw him look in my direction and we locked eyes for a second before he politely extricated himself from a conversation and moved across the room toward me.
Ryan glided through the crowd, looking sexy and elegant, never taking his eyes off me until he was a foot away. My breath caught in my throat when he lowered his gaze to my cleavage.
“I knew that necklace was perfect for you,” he said.
I steeled my nerves and delivered my rehearsed line.
“Hi, Ryan. Could we speak alone for a minute?”
His eyes returned to meet mine.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” he said.
I was surprised by his response. While I didn’t know how Ryan would react to my presence, I never expected him to be dismissive. The optimist in me had only seen this scenario playing out successfully, with him agreeing to talk and me subsequently convincing him that I was the perfect sub for him. I opened my mouth to protest, but bef
ore I could utter a single syllable, he spoke.
“Thanks for coming. Enjoy your Champagne,” Ryan said. Then he turned and walked away, out of the room and down a hallway before I could react.
I was devastated by the unexpected turn of events. Tears welled up and I hurried to the terrace, away from everyone. I downed my Champagne and I tried to get my emotions under control. When I returned to the great room, a string quartet was playing on the small stage and people were milling about in quiet conversation. Ryan Dorrance, the host of the party, was nowhere to be seen.
I remained there another half hour before realizing he wasn’t going to return, at least not while I was in the room. I needed to leave, to get out of that place where I wasn’t wanted. As I made my way to the front door, I again caught my reflection in the giant antique mirror in the foyer.
I was still beautiful, but now I looked distinctly alone.
3
Losing Ryan hurt even worse the second time around. The weekend following the fundraiser I kept telling myself that if I had only approached him the right way, he would have given me the chance to talk. Eventually, though, I began to accept that maybe I’d just screwed everything up by hiring that detective and that Ryan no longer wanted anything to do with me.
The day after the fundraiser I made myself an entire pitcher of margaritas and headed out to my balcony to lie in the sun. I was despondent and wanted to get drunk and wallow in my misery. The warm rays felt comforting and I reclined in my lounge chair wearing a white T-shirt with my comfy gray yoga pants. By the time I’d finished my first drink, I’d begun to sweat and removed my bra from under my shirt. I remembered stripping out here for M, masturbating myself to orgasm in broad daylight while he watched via Skype. I longed to be pushed and prodded again, to be forced to do things outside of my comfort zone.
Todd, my next-door neighbor, waved to me as he came up the sidewalk after his ritual Saturday bike ride. A few minutes later I heard his balcony door slide open and I turned to see him step out, beer in hand. He was wearing matching yellow and blue cycling shorts and jersey. Secure behind my sunglasses, I looked over his fit body and noticed the bulge in his tight shorts.
“I’m glad I caught you, Rachel,” Todd said, leaning against the waist-high wooden railing.
“Yeah?” I responded. “Why’s that?” My plain white T did little to hide my dark nipples as we spoke, but I was becoming more comfortable wearing slightly revealing clothing and didn’t feel compelled to cover up.
“I saw you in the parking garage last night,” he said. “You were on your way out and I just wanted to tell you how stunning you looked.”
“Thank you,” I responded. Todd seemed to be having trouble looking away from my tits. “That’s very nice of you, Todd.”
He shuffled his feet. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me sometime.”
Caught off-guard, I hesitated for a moment. “Sure,” I answered slowly. “Sometime.” I didn’t want to commit to anything and really had no desire for a date with anyone. My open wounds would need to heal first, and that was going to take a while.
“How about tonight?” Todd asked. “Do you have plans?”
I felt bad turning him down, but going out with him that night would have been even worse. “I’m sorry, but right now isn’t a good time for me. Maybe in a few weeks?” I took another glance at his tight bike shorts through the balcony railing and was surprised to see his bulge had grown. Todd was getting a boner gawking at my nipples.
“Sure,” he said as I looked back up. “Whatever works for you. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment so I’ve got plenty of time. I just thought it would be fun to get to know each other better. Consider it a standing offer.”
I thanked him and told him I’d let him know. Todd went inside and I poured myself another drink. As I took a sip it dawned on me that I’d eventually be okay. My newfound confidence made me attractive to men, as I’d seen repeatedly in recent weeks. And since nobody actually dies from a broken heart, in time I’d recover like everyone else does.
That brief moment of optimism disappeared along with Todd’s hot sweaty body and the semi I’d seen in his shorts. I was still miserable and my mind again filled with thoughts of Ryan Dorrance. I’d fallen in love and didn’t want to settle for other, lesser men. The tears began to fall and this time I didn’t bother to stop them.
In between sobs I heard my phone ringing. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered on the outside chance that it might be Ryan.
It wasn’t. A woman’s voice asked, “Rachel Malinksy?”
“Who’s calling?” I countered, in no mood to play games with a telemarketer.
“Hi, Rachel,” she said. “My name is Mia Temler. I’m an independent journalist doing a story on Ryan Dorrance and would like to ask you a few questions. Do you have a moment?”
I was shocked to hear someone else mention his name to me and glad she’d caught me after just one margarita when I still had my wits about me.
“I… Why would you call me? I know nothing about him.”
“Rachel,” she said, “I have two very good sources who say you and Ryan had a relationship until recently. Is that not true?”
What the fuck? How did she know?
“I’ve never met the man.” I was barely lying.
She ignored me and continued. “Forgive my being so blunt, but I know that you’ve been Dorrance’s submissive and that he’s forced you to do some lurid, potentially illegal things for his amusement. He has a history of this type of behavior and I want to let the public know before any other women are hurt by him.”
I hesitated. Ryan didn’t hurt me, I hurt him. I loved the things he’d made me do, even if they scared me half to death. His breaking up with me had been because of something I had done.
“Like I said, I’ve never met him. Now pleas—”
“Rachel, you don’t have to protect him,” she said firmly. “If you need some incentive, my employer will pay you well for giving us a statement on the record.” She hesitated, then added, “Look, this creep dumped you.”
I remained silent, afraid to speak.
“Is there any truth to the rumor he brushed you off at his fundraiser last night?” the reporter asked.
I was beginning to panic. She knew way too much about me. I could imagine a story coming out that would not only damage Ryan’s reputation, but drag me down as well. I certainly wasn’t going to contribute to his or my own downfall.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “And don’t call again.” I hung up and dropped the phone, my hands shaking.
4
By the middle of the next week it was beginning to sink in that my relationship with Ryan Dorrance was over before it ever really began. We’d finally been face-to-face and he knew that I wanted to talk to him about what had happened. Instead of letting me have my say, he’d disappeared and hadn’t attempted to contact me in the five days since the fundraiser. That was a clear indication of where he stood regarding my presence in his life.
After my mistake in hiring the detective, I managed to get one last shot at changing Ryan’s mind, and I’d blown that, too. Any further attempts to get in touch would no doubt be misconstrued as me intruding in his life and would scare him or just piss him off. Neither of those outcomes were in my favor.
I realized how much I’d grown while serving M. For more than a year, I admired my hot neighbor Todd from a distance. Once I’d passed him on the sidewalk when he was wearing nothing but runner’s shorts, his tight body glistening with sweat. Had he expressed any interest in going out with me at the time, I’d have felt both thrilled and apprehensive by the invitation. Recently, though, he’d complimented me several times, gawked at me while I was lounging in skimpy clothes on my balcony, and then directly asked me to go out with him.
All these years I’d assumed I needed to lose weight to get attention from men. It was a true revelation to learn that most of them weren’t interes
ted in skinny women, they were interested in confident ones. I was starting to appreciate my body because a man I’d fallen for loved it, yet I was utterly distraught because that man was no longer in my life.
Lately everything had become a never-ending string of things that reminded me of him, of things I’d done for him. Any well-dressed man I saw, even in magazine ads, made me think of Ryan. Song lyrics turned viciously against me, becoming little daggers that stabbed me in the heart with reminders of moments spent together on Skype or talking over the phone. Every text I received made me think about the ones I was no longer getting from him. A movie I was watching in bed with my cat became impossible to finish because the sex scene left me wondering “What if?”
“What if?” would never be answered. It was over. Common sense said to accept it and move on, to look for another dom if I didn’t want a romantic relationship. But I simply couldn’t do that. I didn’t want anyone except Ryan. Every fiber of my being ached for him, like a junkie’s vein throbbing with raw, naked need. Without him, I was vacant.
Still, I had no desire to get over Ryan; I was devoted to him. And what was the point of devotion, it not to stay? Why give yourself to someone if you can so easily walk away? I would move on. I would stay right here, where if I wasn’t still with Ryan, I was at least close to where we had been.
I was devoted and would remain so, even if the object of my devotion was no longer around. Maybe someday I’d decide it was time to move on, but not until I was ready.
And then Andre called.
I was distracting myself by watching TV one evening with my cat Mingus on my lap when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number and decided to ignore it, but something told me to answer.
“Hello Rachel, this is Andre Kennedy,” said the deep voice on the other end. Neither the name nor the voice rang a bell.
Forced to Bloom, The Complete Series: (BBW Alpha Male Billionaire BDSM Romance) Page 19