Bondage And Bureaucracy

by Rynne Raines

  A time later, he smoothed the hair back from her face, kissed her softly on the mouth, and whispered, “Mine.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Warm. Silky. Sweet beyond sinful. Fiona didn’t bother trying to stop the moan from surfacing as maple syrup coated her tongue and shocked her taste buds into a dimension of flavor she had yet to revisit since childhood. Groaning happily, she swallowed the first bite of her promised Sunday pancake and eagerly stabbed another generous portion.

  Harrison chuckled and kissed the top of her head on his way to the head of the table where he’d meticulously arranged the newspaper, his coffee, half a grapefruit, and two pieces of toast.

  She wrinkled her nose at his grapefruit. “You’d really rather eat that demon fruit and some dry brown toast than have a stack of pancakes?”

  Harrison’s lips twitched into a grin around the rim of his coffee cup, but his eyes didn’t lift from his newspaper. “For the third time, yes, I really would.”

  “Fluffy cake. Sugary syrup. Rich, creamy butter.” Brow creasing, Fiona frowned. “How could anyone not like pancakes?”

  “How could anyone who enjoys eating as much as you do not know how to cook? It’s an enigma.”

  She laughed and dove back into her food.

  After breakfast, Fiona cleared and began washing the dishes while Harrison had his second cup of coffee and finished reading the paper. Her lack of cooking skills and his dislike for pancakes weren’t the only enigmas around here. She submerged a plate in the sudsy water while studying him across the room. He looked relaxed sitting there in a pair of navy joggers and a matching sweatshirt.

  It was nice to see him out of a suit for once, comfortable and at ease. She had begun to wonder if stepping into his walk-in closet would instantly transport her directly to a suit and tie outlet. As opposing as both looks were, she liked both equally. Just as she liked his Dominant persona along with his understanding and kindhearted nature.

  She rinsed and set the dishes in the drying rack, and then turned to grab the final pan off the stove. If she told anyone that she had engaged in a playful Sunday morning pillow fight that ended in an enthusiastic lovemaking session with Councilman Serious, they’d never believe her. Before a few days ago, she wouldn’t have believed herself.

  There were many facets that made up Harrison Lancaster, and Fiona considered it a privilege that he would share so many of them with her over the last few days. As intimidating as he seemed from a professional standpoint, he was an amazing listener, tutor, friend, and lover. He was a remarkable man, and any woman would be lucky to have him. The clock struck one, and she frowned. Their last day together was going by way too fast for her liking.

  Harrison closed his paper, then drained the last of his coffee before he joined her at the sink and took over washing his cup while she dried her hands. He circled the cloth inside the mug exactly three times before repeating the routine on the exterior and around the rim. Grinning, she bit her lower lip. Yes, so many facets. She might actually miss the compulsive ones the most.

  “I can hear you thinking about me,” he said, and gestured for the hand towel.

  She laughed and swatted him with it. “You can not.”

  “Oh?” He arched an eyebrow. “So, you weren’t just thinking about me?”

  Her lips quirked. “Okay. Fine. I was thinking about you.”

  His white teeth flashed in a rare full smile, and she felt like a giddy fool.

  “What are you smiling about? I didn’t say I was thinking anything good.”

  He hooked the towel at her lower back and gave a firm tug. She stumbled and splayed her hands on his chest for balance. He gazed down at her sternly, and her grin faded and her face warmed.

  “We are definitely going to have to work on your fibbing, little slave.” He nipped lightly at her lower lip, and her pulse jumped. “Now,” he whispered, “tell me what you were thinking about.”

  Her eyes drifted shut as he lightly brushed his mouth over hers, teasing and toying her lips into short, labored breathing. “I was just thinking about how much I’ll miss this after today,” she spoke between kisses.

  He cocked his head back and creased his brow. “I think we need to talk, about what I said last night.”

  You’re mine. Now. Forever. Mine.

  “That’s really not necessary,” she insisted, a lump forming in her throat. “I’ve been around long enough to know everyone says things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment.”

  “I don’t,” he said firmly, locking eyes with her. “I meant what I said.”

  “You can’t seriously be considering us pursuing a public relationship.”

  “Strange, because that’s exactly what I’m considering.”

  “Jesus.” As giddy as the thought made her, he couldn’t possibly be thinking clearly. “Your brother will have a heart attack.”

  “My brother will be fine.”

  “What about your campaign? The election? You know this will have a negative effect on your career.”

  “Everything will be fine.”

  “You could lose the election.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “I’ve lost elections before. There are no guarantees in this business, love. There are no guarantees in life.”

  “No.” She shook her head and tried to pull away. She wouldn’t be the reason he lost the election. Not after how kind he had been to her. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do this.”

  “Let me do this?” He clasped her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Unless there’s some other reason that you want out of this, I’m not taking no for answer.”

  “I can’t be the reason that you lose the election, Harrison. I just can’t.”

  “Forget about the election for one goddamn minute.” He frowned at her. “What is it that you want?”

  “Of course I want to see you again, to pursue this, but—”

  “Stop there.” He cradled her face in his hands and sighed. “I understand the environment you were raised in. I can even try to understand why you married Forrester, but you have to understand that I’m not your father and I sure as hell am not Daniel. Yes, my career is important to me, but it is not all I am. Now, I’ve never sold out a person for political or personal gain, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to start doing so with you.”

  She could only stare at him. To believe everything he just said would be foolish and naive. Wouldn’t it?

  ****

  The beauty of Valhalla never failed to amaze Fiona. Even in the shadows, barely a sliver before dawn, the lush parks, cheerful school yards, and quaint little homes held a type of quiet charm contrary to the lure of Manhattan’s eclectic, energizing, and majestic personality. The hamlet was absolutely picturesque. The perfect place to start and raise a family.

  And she couldn’t wait to never have to see it again.

  Delighted, Fiona sank back against the smooth leather bench seat in the back of the cab and hugged Harrison’s wool coat around her tighter. As often as she had worn it over the weekend, it was beginning to smell more like her than like him, but if she nuzzled the collar in just the right spot, there was still a hint of his cologne.

  She shut her eyes and breathed deeply, knowing that by the time they saw each other again his scent would have long since faded. Even so, she knew the feelings she’d developed for him would remain.

  Upon realizing nothing would convince Harrison that a public relationship between them would put too much of a negative strain on his career, she opted for a compromise. They would limit their communications to phone calls and Internet video conferencing until the election was over. Then they would pick up where they left off and learn each other the way only time could teach. Time that would reveal favorite foods, taste in music and venues, and annoying habits that would undoubtedly make at least one of them want to climb the walls.

  Remembering the adorable pinch lines of irritation around Harrison’s handsome mouth when he realized they wouldn’t be
in physical contact for two months, Fiona grinned. She didn’t like the idea of it either, but it was the safest course of action and his annoyance hadn’t lasted for long. Eventually, he decided there were ways they could continue her submissive training even at a distance and said he would just need to get creative. At the endless possibilities, she delightfully shivered.

  When the cab slowed and lurched over the last fat speed bump in the school zone kitty corner to the multilevel two-story she had shared with Daniel for eight years, her heartbeat sped up.

  “Here we are, lady.”

  Yes. Here we are.

  “Keep it running, please.” Unable to curb her excitement, she slapped half the fare in the cabby’s wide palm and smiled. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  The moment Fiona set foot inside the dark, narrow entrance, an instant chill rolled the length of her spine. She shook it off. It wasn’t like she hadn’t experienced the dreadful chill before. Every time she entered the cookie-cutter home that helped sell their precious and devoted sham of a union, she got chills. Only this time was different. This time would be the last.

  Biting her lower lip, Fiona very carefully and gently eased the front door closed behind her. She cringed. Even the friction of the wood wedging into the jamb was too loud for her liking. Thankfully, Daniel slept like the dead and the master suite was on the second floor, so the likelihood of waking him was slim to none. That probability was still too high for Fiona.

  She toed off her heels on the French-style runner Daniel insisted on having that she had always hated. The stiffly woven fabric and cool pattern was as pretentious as the man who chose it, and she loved the thought of never having to set foot on it again.

  Last time, she mouthed and silently padded barefoot across the cool glazed brick floor toward the guest room she had been staying in for over a month now. Her suitcase had been packed and ready to go nearly as long. All she needed to do was grab her bag, hit the airport, and start her new life.

  She set her hand on the guest room doorknob and a renewed sense of giddiness rippled through her. She was nearly free. A giggle teased up the walls of her throat, but she forced it back down before any sound surfaced and settled on a smile. She reached around the wall and felt for the light switch.

  “Hello, wife.”

  Fiona nearly jumped ten feet off the floor.

  “Jesus!” She clutched a hand to her chest.

  Heart hammering through the thin fabric of her blouse and into her trembling fingers, she stared across the room, passed the bed and dresser to where Daniel sat perfectly still in an old wing chair, a tumbler of Scotch clasped in his left hand. The near-empty bottle sat next to him on the side table. How long had he sat in here, drinking?

  When she finally caught her breath, she locked eyes with Daniel. “For Christ’s sake. It’s nearly five in the morning. What are you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for my wife to come home.”

  “Stop calling me that.” Unease settled in her stomach, and she swallowed hard. He was acting strange, even for him. “I’m not your wife anymore.”

  “Ah, right.” He brought the glass to his lips and downed the last of the pale amber liquid in one mouthful, then hissed. “Slipped my mind.”

  Invisible fingers slithered down her back as Fiona watched Daniel’s clumsy and miscalculated attempt to set the glass on the table. He didn’t come close. The glass missed the table completely, hit the carpet, then rolled toward her feet. She frowned down at it. Had she ever seen him this drunk? It’d be a miracle if he could stand on his own. Not that it mattered. For as much as she cared, he could sleep in that chair forever and a day. Not her concern.

  Daniel possessed a mean streak when he drank Scotch. She wanted to get her suitcase and leave before that mean streak reared its ugly head.

  “Looking for this?” Daniel kicked the navy blue luggage beneath his chair. “You weren’t going to leave without a proper goodbye, were you?”

  “I said my goodbyes on the dotted line three days ago,” she said in a mild tone. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

  His sharp bark of laughter sent her stomach into spasms and she cringed. Something was very wrong. She needed to make this short and sweet, get her bag and get the hell out of here.

  “I don’t see how this is funny,” Fiona said with a bland expression. “Now if you’ll give me my bag…”

  “It’s not funny,” he agreed in a suddenly amicable tone. “But I do find it amusing that you should count the days. It makes me wonder if, during our marriage, you also counted the days you were away from your lover.”

  Taken aback, she scoffed. “I didn’t have lovers when we were married. You’re drunk, Daniel, and obviously confused. Just give me my bag, and I’ll leave you to slip into your drunken coma in peace.”

  “Answer the fucking question.”

  Eyes sharpening inside his hardened face, an icy chill formed on her skin. How dare he question her loyalty to their marriage vows. She had not suffered through years or his pathetic excuse for love making and years of abstinence so she could stand here and listen to this bullshit. Although carrying out an argument with an intoxicated and delusional fool hadn’t been on her agenda this morning, she would gladly do so if it meant showing him that his days of intimidation were over.

  She ventured a few confident strides deeper into the room, stopped a foot from his chair, and looked him in the eye. “As much as I loathed being married to you, I was always faithful to my marriage vows.”

  “Lies!” His fist slammed so hard against the table, the bottle of scotch jumped and so did Fiona.

  With eerie slowness, Daniel pushed up from the chair and squared off with her. Though he was barely an inch taller, in his drunken rage he seemed much, much bigger. She suddenly felt dwarfed, but she would not cower to him, even if the acidic and fermented scent of booze was enough to turn her stomach.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” he demanded.

  “Now?” She cocked her head and forced her sweetest smile. “Or just in general?”

  His hand shot up. Thick, meaty fingers closed around her throat and a bolt of panic shocked through her. Daniel might be a dick, but he had never physically abused her.

  “You’re just a fucking comedian, aren’t you?” His wild eyes pinned her as he dug the pads of his fingers deeply into the soft tissue of her throat. “Not so funny now.”

  “Dan—iel,” she choked, swatting and clawing at his forearm. “Let…go.”

  “Why?” He jerked her closer. “Isn’t this what you like? What you get off on?”

  Fiona began to wheeze, her vision blurred. The more she struggled unsuccessfully to break his hold on her neck, the dizzier she became. Spots of white light danced before her eyes. Daniel no longer looked like the man she had married years ago but a darker, more sinister version. His thin upper lip curled back from his front teeth in a type of snarl. The aristocratic hollows to his face seemed to deepen and cave. He was terrifying.

  The light in the room seemed to flicker and dim, and the air too thick to drag in. She was going to die in this room. He was going to kill her. Panic fueled a last attempt to break free from his grip. She tried to kick his groin and wrench his hand from her throat, but it was no use. His grip was ironclad. She tried to swallow and it was like gulping down buckets of coarse sand. Only when it became too painful to keep her eyes open, did it all stop.

  Her body hit the mattress so hard that she bounced at least six inches off the bed before slamming back down. Fiona drew a ragged breath. Air. Sweet Air. It burned her lungs as she tipped her head back and took in greedy gulp after greedy gulp. Her fear churned with rage now. Bitter and furious, her body vibrated.

  “I swear to God,” she craned her head and pinned him with an unsteady glare through the tangled mess of hair plastered over her face, “if you ever, ever touch me again, the next election you’ll be running will be from behind iron bars.”

  “Spare me the dramatics. It’s hardly attracti
ve.” Like Jekyll and Hyde his voice returned to calm and collected and it made her sick. He casually straightened his tie and flicked a glance in her direction. “Tell me, does he know how you like it? Strikes me as a bit odd, considering you’re such a Goddamn liability, that he would run the risk but stranger things have been known to happen.”

  Touching a hand to her tender throat, she glared up at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? Still a tad fuzzy for you?” He cut to the dresser, removed something from the top drawer, then circled back. “Well, do let me refresh your memory.”

  Daniel flicked his wrist and a handful of photographs floated down onto the bed beside her. Fiona went rigid.

  “Where…where did you get these?” she breathlessly demanded as she picked through one photograph after another. They were all in black and white but the imagery needed no color for animation. Harrison and her stepping off the service elevator into the car park. Them walking hand in hand to the vehicle. Harrison pressing her back against the car and kissing her soundly on the mouth.

  “How did you get these?”

  “It hardly matters,” Daniel gestured dismissively. “What matters is that I have them. Which means, I have you.”

  Startled, she lifted a shaky gaze. “What…what do you mean, you have me?”

  “It means exactly that. You belong to me. There will be no divorce. We will carry on exactly as we did before all this nonsense and you will be happy to do so.”

  “The papers are already signed, Daniel. It’s over.”

  “These papers?”

  He withdrew a set of papers from his inside jacket pocket and held them up. Fiona gaped. He intercepted the divorce papers?

  “You’re insane.”

  “I won’t have you embarrassing me, Fiona. You are my wife and you will forever be my wife as far as the public is concerned.”

  “No.” She shook her head adamantly. “I will not stay married to you. It’s a single kiss on camera, Daniel. It’s not enough to do any significant damage. We were going to tell people eventually. You’ve got nothing.”