by Marlee Wray
He folded his arms across his chest. He looked so forbidding when he did that.
“I expect you to let me act as his proxy.”
“As his proxy for what?”
“For whatever’s necessary.”
She scowled at him. “Who do you think you are?”
“The man that stands between you and eviction from this community. If you don’t want my help, you’re welcome to attempt to handle it on your own.”
He turned and stalked out of the room.
She wanted to let him go, so she could be left to her own devices. She’d go back to sleep and forget everything until the following day, but her stomach lurched from the terrible feeling that Eric wasn’t bluffing. She tried to imagine facing the council alone. No way. But when she thought about being sent away she couldn’t breathe.
She jumped off the couch and raced to the foyer.
He had the front door open and was about to step out.
“Wait.”
He looked over his shoulder, brows raised.
“I do want help.”
“Smart,” he said, closing the door. “You’re a mess. Get ready and then get dressed.”
“I took a shower this morning. I’m not a mess.”
“There’s clean and then there’s properly groomed for the clubhouse.”
“I’ve never actually been in the clubhouse library. The couple times my punishments were witnessed it was here.”
“Even so. Are you telling me that Colin let you skip shaving your legs and plucking your eyebrows those times? Did you have wild uncombed hair and chipped nail polish?”
Laci took a deep breath and exhaled. “No, Colin was really particular about that stuff. If you want me to get ready in a way that would’ve satisfied his inspection of me, it’ll take time. I’d need to have my nails done and to be waxed and—”
“There isn’t time for hours in a salon. Do whatever you can to get ready. We’re expected there in two hours.”
“Eric, I won’t know what to do in the clubhouse library. He never took me there.”
“You don’t need to know anything. You won’t be in charge of what happens there.”
She froze on her way to the stairs. “I won’t be passed around, especially not to men I don’t like. If that’s the plan, you bastards can forget it!”
“Watch your mouth,” he said, pinning her with a look.
She clenched her fists in frustration. She wanted to scream and break another vase… or a hundred vases. Instead she slapped the wall with a palm before she turned and leaned against it, her arms folded across her chest, her head down. “I can’t let John have me. Or Stu. I’m not a whore to be passed around.”
“No one is going to pass you around for sex, Laci. Why would you even think that?”
“Because people partner-swap at the clubhouse.”
“Everything that happens at the clubhouse is consensual, just like everything that happens in the community. And most people do not partner-swap. Only a very few couples do.”
She put her head in her hands. Eric walked to her and leaned down to bring their faces close.
“Laci, are you really sure you want to stay? I know this is the house you shared with Colin. You’re probably attached to it. But you can take his things with you and set up house anywhere. Do you think you’d be happier in the city with your friends?”
“No. Those people don’t really give a shit about me. They’re thrilled I’m not painting. They’re thrilled to see me fail. They came to see what a wreck I am, despite having a big house and a bunch of money. They came to drink and smoke for free and to roll their eyes at the fact that I’m still sad. They’re jerks.”
“So why do you keep going to the city to hang out with them?”
“How do you know where I go?”
“I review your credit card statements.”
She rubbed her eyes, angry that they were damp with tears. “I don’t know. I thought I needed to get away, but it’s not better there. It’s not better anywhere.”
“It can be.”
“Think so?” She wanted to believe him, but her hold on everything felt so fragile. It was like she was clutching sand as the ocean crashed over her body and dragged her out to sea.
Once, a long time ago, she’d felt at home in Haywood Hills. It was hard to imagine feeling that way again, but anything had to be better than being forced out of the only real home she’d ever had.
She would take her punishment and then she would take her life back.
Chapter Three
Sitting on the couch in the living room, Eric shoved his phone in his pocket after checking the time. Laci had been getting ready for about thirty minutes. He pictured her in the enormous master bathroom with its white marble sink and butter-colored walls. With her new look she wouldn’t match the sweet and serene decor.
He’d been thinking that the four-thousand-square-foot house seemed massive now that Colin was gone, but it had seemed enormous for just Colin and Laci even when he had been alive. Laci was around five-foot-three, and she’d been constantly dressed in little girl outfits. Colin had been about five-seven and trim. There had been a boyish quality to him. Peter Pan was the name that had come to mind the day Eric had met him. So the massive house with its antiques and frills had seemed like a stolen castle where any minute a Lost Boy would come tumbling from a closet. Except Colin wasn’t into Lost Boys. He was into a certain little lost girl who he’d claimed for himself.
Eric thought about the last time Colin had come to Eric’s place. Eric had a back deck that faced the lake and he’d been reading the Wall Street Journal when Colin had appeared on the path, using a cane with polished silver handle. By then, Colin had been weak from his illness and chemotherapy and had resorted to using various dapper walking sticks. Eric had thought the canes, which were occasionally accompanied by a top hat, said a lot about Colin. When anyone else would have been angry or bitter or just worn out by life’s unfairness, Colin had made a game of not letting the prospect of death dampen his spirits.
The last morning he’d walked over, Eric had stood, ready to give his friend a hand up the steps, but Colin had shaken his head.
“I bought a whole collection of these, and I plan to get my money’s worth,” Colin had joked, slightly breathlessly. “Very plebeian of me I know, but there you have it. The walking sticks are all quite grand. Wait until you see the one with the wolf’s head. It reminded me of you,” Colin had said with a small smirk.
Eric had sat back down, smiling. “There are so many pretty sheep in the world. There have to be a few wolves around to eat them up.” It hadn’t been a metaphor that Eric would normally have used, but Colin chuckled deeply as Eric had thought he would. Colin loved fairytales and fantasies.
“So what happened with the little sheep from Portland? Did you gobble her up?”
Eric nodded. “Yes, in all the ways that count. She enjoyed it, then got scared and ran away.”
Colin ambled over to an Adirondack chair and dropped into it, working to catch his breath. “Your problem is you’re too reserved. Which of us is half British again?”
Eric had smirked. He and Colin had both come from old money, but the formality and manners drummed into them by respective nannies and boarding schools had rolled off Colin like rainwater. Eric, on the other hand, could never have pulled off Colin’s impishness even when he’d been a boy.
“I take good care of them, but I don’t treat them like baby dolls. That’s not what I’m into,” Eric had said.
“You don’t need to treat them like baby dolls, but I don’t think it would compromise your iron will to bring a girl a bouquet of flowers or a little piece of jewelry after you’ve spent the weekend chaining her up and whipping her.”
Eric shrugged. “Her reward was to come harder than she’d ever come in her life.”
“And yet she didn’t sign on for endless weekends of the same,” Colin pointed out.
Eric folded his arms across his
chest. “I don’t fake emotions I don’t have.”
Colin sighed. “You have emotions, my friend. Since the night I told you about my diagnosis, a day never passes without a call or a text from you. Even while you were in Tokyo. You care for people a great deal, Eric, even if you are abysmal at expressing it.” Colin had run a hand through his light brown hair and leaned forward. “I need a favor.”
“Is this an exercise to prove that I have human emotions?” Eric asked mildly, the corners of his mouth curving up.
“No, it’s a real request. A somewhat serious one.”
Eric’s smile had faded, and he’d leaned forward. “Then yes, of course. What favor?”
“The kind that keeps on giving. An ongoing responsibility.”
Eric hadn’t been daunted. He’d wanted more than anything to do a favor for the man who’d always treated him with the kind of affection usually reserved for a younger brother. The worst thing in the world had been knowing that his good friend was dying, and there was nothing Eric could do to help him.
“The answer is yes,” Eric said firmly. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Committing to a favor before you’ve even heard it? That’s reckless. Very unlike you, Mr. Control.”
Eric waited, knowing that Colin was stalling. If Colin needed to work up his courage to explain what he needed, it must be a very big favor indeed.
“It’s about my precious little girl.”
Eric waited. Since Colin had gotten sick, Eric had kept even more distance than usual between himself and Laci because she interested him in ways that weren’t innocent. The last thing Eric had wanted was for Colin to wonder whether he would try to take up with his wife after his death.
“You know the estate is pretty large and complicated. I’ve mentioned I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it, especially right after she inherits it. She doesn’t have the patience for overly complicated things even during the best of times.”
“I thought you’d decided to put it into a trust for her with Elena Ochoa as the trustee?”
“Elena is a CFO. She also has a dominant husband to serve and children to raise. She’s on the Hills council. I think overseeing my estate is too much to ask of her. I’d like you to do it. You have more time. Also, my little darling can get surly when she’s overtired or pushed too far. Elena’s kind and intelligent, but I don’t know that she’ll be able to handle Laci in a temper. You, on the other hand, could squash an uprising led by Attila the Hun.”
Eric had sat very still, wondering what Colin had in mind for him and Laci. Was it just about controlling the money? Or did Colin assume the arrangement would turn into more?
Eric had experienced cognitive dissonance at the thought of taking on oversight of the estate. On the one hand, it was the greatest compliment in the world that Colin would put any aspect of Laci’s future into Eric’s hands. On the other, it was like taking a blade to the heart to recognize that the price of greater access to Laci would be the loss of his closest friend.
“I will do anything you need done,” Eric had said, his voice so thick with emotion that he had to clear his throat to overcome it. “But this new therapy they’re trying is working. You walked all the way over from your place. You couldn’t have done that two weeks ago.”
“It’s working,” Colin had said with a quick nod of reassurance. “I’m going to survive for a long time. But being ill has been a reminder that a man of means needs to keep his affairs in order. What if I’d been in a car accident and died suddenly and the will I’d written ten years ago hadn’t been updated?” Colin had shuddered. “All those cousins tearing at the estate like jackals? Refusing to give Laci a share? They might have tried it. They’re a cold-hearted bunch. No, no. I have to make sure she’s taken care of forever. I want everything in order, whether I live for six months or sixty years.” Colin’s raised hand had shaken slightly just from the exertion of gesturing with it. Eric had wished again that he could loan his friend some strength.
Colin had leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests. “How long have I been here?” he’d asked.
Eric had glanced at his watch. “About ten minutes.”
“Are you even going to offer me a cup of tea? It really is like you were raised by wolves,” Colin had said dryly.
Eric had laughed. “If you send a note to my mother to that effect, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He’d stood to go in and brew the Darjeeling.
“Thank you, Eric,” Colin had said, and Eric had known Colin was talking about much more than tea.
Chapter Four
Laci had shaved her legs, rubbed lotion on her skin, and dabbed perfume on her wrists. She’d smoothed her hair with a straightening wand and made up her eyes with thick strokes of liquid liner, giving herself cat’s eyes. She put on a slinky gold dress with spaghetti straps so thin they threatened to snap under the dress’s weight.
“Interesting choice,” Eric said.
She fought not to roll her eyes. Colin would have called her his beautiful doll. How could he have put her financial future in Eric Renard’s hands? The guy had about as much passion as a white Crayola crayon.
“Colin brought it back for me from a business trip. I wore it the last New Year’s Eve.”
“The last New Year’s Eve with him, you mean?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Listen, I appreciate your trying to help, but, as much as I hate to say it, I should probably be punished by John or Stu. I’ve wronged both of them. Plus, they’re a lot older. Honestly, I don’t know why Colin picked you to help with the money. He had to know you weren’t the right person to keep me in line. You’re way too young. I can’t take you seriously,” she lied. Eric was young and that did make it more annoying when he acted like he was in charge, but he was definitely good at imposing his will.
Eric smiled. “Too young? I’m seven years older than you.”
“Colin was three times that older than me.”
“I know. It was perverse, in a lot of great ways I’d imagine.”
Her gaze slid to him. Was that a compliment or a dig? It had better not have been a negative comment. Not only had Colin been her husband, but he’d also been this jerk’s mentor for a lot of years.
Laci said nothing, but the gears in her head were turning furiously. She had to get control of herself, so she could get out from under this man’s thumb.
* * *
The clubhouse was similar to that enjoyed by many neighborhood associations and apartment complexes. It had a recreation room with stacks of board games, a card table, a seventy-two-inch flat screen, and a bar. There was a kitchen, a meeting room, and a library. There was also a second bar with a lounge that opened to the courtyard and swimming pool. The difference was that scattered throughout this clubhouse were hooks for restraints and cabinets filled with punishment tools.
Laci knew that once per month, several of the powerful men in the group brought their wives for a night of group punishment. Colin, who’d never been particularly voyeuristic and who had had some unusual kinks even by the community’s standards, had preferred to keep their life fairly private. With the exception of some kinky visits to the onsite clinic and two house parties where he’d spanked her in front of others while she laid across his lap in a cami and thong panties, Laci had never really been on display.
She had often wondered about the clubhouse activities and had hinted several times that she’d like to check them out, but Colin had never taken the bait. Now she really wished he had. It was a lot worse going into this situation blind. She wanted to mentally prepare herself, but it was hard to do that when she didn’t know what she’d be facing.
Laci stopped short a few feet before the entrance. “Safewords still apply, right?”
“Of course,” Eric said. “Yellow and red for simplicity during group play. You won’t need them, though. If you can’t withstand a hard bare-bottomed spanking, Colin wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
/> Laci glared at him. “Colin never spanked me with my ass naked in public.”
“I know. That’s why this is a good gesture of submission on your part. And why the assembled group is especially looking forward to it.”
“So you’ve been waiting for an opportunity to do this to me, huh?”
“Yes.”
It startled her that he’d admitted it so baldly. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but a simple yes hadn’t been it.
“You’re a jerk.”
“You continue to display poor judgement.”
“What? You think it makes you a nice guy that you’ve been looking forward to spanking your dead friend’s wife?”
“No, I think it shows poor judgement on your part to disrespect a man right before you’re about to be draped over his lap for punishment. Not much of a chess player, are you, Lace?”
God, he infuriated her. “I’m not afraid of you, Eric. You can spank me, it’ll hurt, and I might even cry a little, but it won’t break me. You don’t have the juice to make me really submit.”
There was a flash of darkness and danger in his eyes, and for the first time she wondered whether there might be something animal lurking beneath his cool facade. It should have made her regret taunting him, but somehow it raised her anticipation.
She turned and strode to the door of the clubhouse, opened it, and entered.
* * *
Eric’s heart thudded heavily with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time. Laci had always tempted him. She was a fascinating dichotomy of darkness and light. When Colin had met her she’d just aged out of foster care and was crashing on the couches of friends. She’d had cropped dark hair and darker makeup, and if it hadn’t been for a sponsorship to art school, she’d probably have been panhandling. But for as much as she was rough-edged and knowing, she’d still been really young. Colin had made her over, including having her hair lightened and tossing all the kohl makeup. He’d dressed her in baby doll dresses, ribbons, and knee socks with almost no makeup; she had been a perfect little girl for his ageplay.