Bondage And Bureaucracy

by Rynne Raines

  Sardonic laughter bellowed and sent an eerie chill up Fiona’s spine.

  “My dear, dear Fiona. You’re so very right. A single kiss just isn’t enough. In fact, the voters might actually find it romantic on some pathetic level. No, I need something a bit more risqué.” Daniel began to pace at the end of the bed, tapping his middle finger against his lips.

  Fiona’s brow creased as she cautiously studied him. He really had lost his mind. He looked unbalanced, frazzled.

  “Aha!” He spun toward her and she jerked back, unsure of what he might do next. “Listen to this headline. ‘Loving and dedicated husband discovers appalling sex secrets about his ex-wife and running opponent.’ What do you think? Catchy, isn’t it?”

  She barely had time to absorb what he was saying before he spoke again.

  “Oh, yes. That barn photo of you plastered beside the others will do just the trick.”

  Shocked, Fiona stared.

  “Aw. Isn’t that adorable. You thought you had the only copy? For someone who has been around this business for as long as you’ve been, you really are quite naive.”

  Her entire body went numb. Her stomach rioted. How could this all be happening? Only twenty minutes ago, she was on the verge of building her new life. Now, she sat in the debris of it all coming down around her. Even Harrison admitted that the public would never been able to accept their lifestyle choice.

  “He doesn’t know,” Fiona lied, grasping at straws.

  “Doesn’t matter. The speculation alone would be enough to rattle his supporters and end his career. Voters are like cattle. All it takes is one stupid cow to jump on the ‘he likes to beat women to reach sexual satisfaction’ train, and it’s all over.”

  It would be so different if it was only her reputation he was threatening to sully. If that were the case, she’d have told him to go right ahead and publish the damned photo. She was done letting it control her life. She had made a promise to herself that she would no longer bend to the whims of others, that her life was now her own.

  But this wasn’t only about her.

  Her gut wrenched. Could she refuse Daniel and stand by while he carried out his personal assault on Harrison, using a weapon she had provided? Hell, she and Harrison may have known each other ten years, but they’d only been intimate for three days. Was three days of intimacy worth signing away her life for?

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to give Daniel the satisfaction of seeing even one drop of moisture fall. The heart knew nothing of time or logic. Either was irrelevant when it came to emotion. Although they had agreed to take things slow and see where their relationship took them once the election was over, her back was now against the wall.

  She couldn’t pretend she had just shared a weekend of fantastic sex with an attractive and intelligent man. Her bond to him ran deeper. He listened to her, cared for her. He acted as a mentor and teacher yet knew when to give her space. He was her friend and lover. He was her Dominant.

  “If you ever loved me at all,” she whispered, unable to curb the devastation in her tone. “You wouldn’t ask me to do this.”

  “You’re probably right about that.” Daniel turned to her with a thoughtful look, pausing and giving her hope. “It’s a good thing I never loved you.”

  No. He never had. Maybe she didn’t want to believe that before, but she believed it now. If there had been a shred of decency in him, a twinge of affection for her, then he would set her free.

  He stepped toward the bed and crouched until they were eye level.

  “You know, you’re not the only one who’s suffered from this union. I never wanted a wife, especially one like you. Frankly, redheads disgust me. No, I would’ve been happy to live the life of a bachelor.”

  “Then…then why did you ever marry me?”

  “Come now, you really can’t be that naive. I wanted power,” he said simply. “I wasn’t going to be able to get that without help. You’ve seen the popularity votes. I’m not overly likable.”

  “Oh, and I can’t begin to imagine why.”

  “Your father wanted to marry you off, and I wanted to hitch my wagon to the fastest horse. At the time, I didn’t think it would be all bad. The prospect of having a son to groom in my image appealed to me. But you? You couldn’t even do that.”

  Devastation paralyzed her.

  “I guess my consolation prize is seeing the pathetic, heartbroken look on your face right now and forever knowing that I will be the one thing standing between you and real happiness.”

  Fiona wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but the only sound that surfaced was a weak sob. Curling her fingers into the bed sheets, she stared down at the photographs of a happier time, happier memories. She wished to God she would wake up from this nightmare once and for all.

  “Pull yourself together and clean yourself up a bit. We have a plane to catch.”

  “Wait!” she demanded as he reached the door. “How do I know you’ll keep up your end of the agreement? How do I know you won’t peddle your filth in the future?”

  He cast a sinister look over his shoulder and flashed a toothy smile that made her blood curdle. “You don’t.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Crystal flutes of Champagne clinked and sparkled under the bright lights inside the mezzanine where the Penelope Chandler Under-Privileged Youth charity event took place once a year. Harrison sipped his bourbon, attention and eyes trained on the parade of evening gowns and tuxedos entering through the vaulted double doors. As far as he could see, she hadn’t arrived yet. But she would. Soon. He had spotted her name on the guest list, only a few beneath his own.

  Fiona Forrester.

  Given that Daniel was a speaker for the auction this evening, it didn’t surprise Harrison that Fiona would attend the event. After all, it was only proper for a good wife to lend support to her husband when he was graciously asked to play co-host at one of the largest fundraisers of the year. Everyone who was anyone in New York would be at the gala, including District Attorney Mason Johnston and the mayor.

  Harrison took another swallow of amber liquid and clenched his jaw from the burn of it going down.

  “We don’t have to stay here,” Marc whispered beside him. “I’ll make up an excuse and leave a sizable donation. I can’t believe Penelope would even sit at the same table as someone as slimy as Forrester, let alone ask him to play one of the auctioneers. It’s ridiculous. Come on, I’ll get the car and we can leave before they get here.”

  “We’re staying.”

  Marc swore under his breath and muttered, “You know, you’re turning into a real masochist. Seeing Fiona with that moron is only going to piss you off.”

  “Probably.”

  “You’ll no doubt lose your temper and deck the asshole.”

  Harrison arched an eyebrow but didn’t pull his gaze from the entrance. “A definite possibility.”

  “Then why? Why in the hell are we here?” His silence drew a frustrated sigh from Marc. “Listen, I don’t know what went on between the two of you that weekend or what plans you made the future, but I know how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. I know for some reason, Fiona chose to go back to Daniel.”

  Yes…for some reason.

  “Even if you deck Forrester and she comes to her senses, you’ll still have assaulted a fellow council member and very likely ruined your career. Are you willing to give up a chance at a Senate seat and all the good you could do with it for one woman you spent a single weekend with?”

  I’d give up everything for her.

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Harrison replied, barely sparing Marc a glance.

  Marc was still grumbling under his breath when Penelope Chandler approached them, sleek and beautiful in a floor length burgundy and gold sequined gown that hugged every inch of her body to perfection.

  “Good evening, gentleman,” she greeted with a slow curve of her deep cherry-painted lips. “I do hope you’re enjoying the e
vent so far.”

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Penelope.” Marc complimented, easily transitioning from worrisome brother to diplomatic campaign strategist. “Best party yet. I’m sure they’ll be plenty of wallets opening up tonight for your cause.”

  “That’s the idea.” Penelope acknowledged and turned her attention to Harrison. “How about you, darling? Does tonight meet your approval?”

  Harrison shifted his eyes from the door to Penelope. She looked beautiful tonight. As always, she carried herself with the posture of a queen and spoke with as much elegance. If she weren’t a Domme, they might have ended up in bed together at least once over the duration of their seven-year friendship.

  To this day, no one—not even his brother—actually knew how close he and Penelope were. After crossing paths with her at a secret sex club in Mazatlán, they’d agreed to keep public knowledge of their camaraderie to a minimum, that way if either of them ever had their lifestyles exposed it would have no chance at linking back to the other person.

  Politely, Harrison inclined his head to Penelope. “Like my brother said, you’ve outdone yourself. I’m sure the evening will prove to be a great success.”

  “I truly hope so,” she said, her eyes warming to him over the rim of her Champagne flute.

  Harrison was in the process of returning Penelope’s smile when he saw Fiona handing off her shawl to one of the staff in charge of the coatroom. At the sight of her, his chest tightened. Her simple, sage-colored evening gown fitted snugly to the waist produced the bell shape around her legs that he’d grown to adore since seeing her clothed in only a bed sheet their first night together. Her generally carefree and wild ginger curls were swept back from her face and tightly pinned a top her head in some regal style bun that reminded him of the horrid Sunday school nuns he feared as a boy. The hairstyle didn’t suit the sweet and amorous Fiona he knew at all. To him, the stuffy up-do represented the part she now played, the proper and dutiful trophy wife. Daniel’s wife.

  He flexed his jaw and briefly entertained the fantasy of going over there and dragging every confining pin free from her pretty little head. His daydream didn’t end there, though. He wanted to fist his fingers in her silky ginger hair, bend her over the coatroom counter, and fuck her until she screamed at the top of her lungs to whom it was she truly belonged.

  “Well, well.” Penelope glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the entrance. “I see one of my auctioneers for the evening has arrived and is wasting no time getting to know people. Please, excuse me, gentlemen.”

  With his focus entirely on Fiona, he hadn’t even seen Forrester standing to her left, meeting and greeting every possible prospective connection he could manage before the guests behind them waiting to get in lost patience. Then, Daniel turned. When their gazes met across the banquet hall, Daniel’s lips stretched into a slow, shit-eating smile. Harrison’s fingers flexed so tightly on his highball glass it was a miracle it didn’t shatter under the force.

  He knows. Somehow the son of a bitch found out…

  “Christ, I knew this was a bad idea,” Marc muttered. “He’s thirty feet away, and you look as if you’re having a hard time restraining yourself from crossing the room and throttling him.”

  Marc’s observation wasn’t far off. Everything Fiona confided in him regarding her marriage to Daniel had resurfaced in the forefront of his mind. He took a large swallow of his drink, hissed as the alcohol burned his throat, and glared.

  “So, you wanted to see her. Now you’ve seen her. Can we please leave?” Marc begged.

  Yes, he had wanted to see her and now that he had, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “If you want to leave, go.” Harrison’s eyes narrowed as he saw Daniel grasp Fiona’s upper arm and squeeze until she winced. “I’m staying.”

  Marc frowned. “To what end?”

  With any luck…Daniel Forrester’s.

  ****

  By the time the auction started and Daniel finally detached himself from her side, Fiona’s stomach was in knots. Leaning on the balcony’s stone railing, she turned her face into the fall breeze swirling up from the courtyard below. She hoped it would quell some of the nausea she’d been experiencing since Daniel had told her she would be attending this event with him, whether she wanted to or not.

  The moment they’d entered the banquet hall, she noticed Harrison across the room, more handsome and daunting than she had ever witnessed. Inside her belly, dread churned with guilt, and she broke into a cold sweat. Guilt mixed with an absolute longing to go to him, to say something, anything that might make him understand why all of his calls and messages to her had gone unanswered.

  She couldn’t risk it.

  Although Harrison was the most disciplined man she knew, he had a quick temper where Daniel was concerned. Telling him about Daniel’s superficial and twisted desire to keep her as his wife before the election could press just the button Daniel was hoping for. No. She would not be used as a tool in the destruction of Harrison’s career. As much as it made her physically ill to deceive him, he couldn’t know the truth yet. Her stomach rioted again. She pressed a hand against her abdomen and quietly cursed.

  “Here, drink this.”

  Startled, Fiona jerked her chin up and her heart paused. Harrison shouldn’t have been allowed to look so impossibly handsome when she was feeling this nauseous and sorry for herself. Even with the frown lines etched around his mouth, he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever known.

  “Go on,” he urged, putting the crystal flute in her hand. “Drink.”

  “I… To be honest I’m not feeling much like Champagne tonight, but thank you.”

  “It’s ginger ale.”

  Stunned, Fiona looked at the flute then up at Harrison. “Ginger ale?”

  His frowned deepened. “You’ve been clutching your stomach half the night, and you’re even paler than normal. It’s obvious you’re not well. Looking as ill as you are, you shouldn’t even be here.”

  God, he was an intuitive man.

  “Drink,” he ordered in a firmer tone that sent a slow, familiar shiver through her body.

  Bringing the glass to her lips, Fiona obediently sipped. Shortly after the bubbles reached her tummy, the revolt inside her started to calm a little, and she felt like she could breathe again. Unfortunately, the sweet ginger bubbles didn’t help ease the emotion swelling in her chest or quiet the voices in her head screaming for her to spill her guts to him about everything.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, silently praying for strength. “You really didn’t have to bring me this.”

  “Didn’t have to. Wanted to.” He stepped closer, dwarfing her even in her high heels. “Given your history with politicians, it may come as some surprise that when I told you I cared about you, I actually meant it. So, I’ll say it again. I care about you, Fiona.”

  The conviction in his tone stroked her from inside to out and her skin warmed. She nearly crumbled. It was hard deceiving him from across a room, not to mention when he was close enough to touch.

  “You…you shouldn’t be out here,” she insisted softly, forcing her emotions down. “If someone saw us together like this…well…it’s foolish.”

  “I’ve heard people often act the fool when love is involved. It’s time you stopped playing the martyr, Fiona. You’ve done it for too long.”

  He could have held her immobile with just intensity of his eyes, but his hand lifted and encircled her throat gently. The pad of his thumb stroked lightly over where her pulse beat wildly beneath the surface of her skin. Time suspended and again, she couldn’t breathe. He knew the truth. She could see it in his eyes. Quiet understanding. Maybe she saw a little disappointment but not anger or accusation or irritation. Only love.

  “Harrison, I—”

  “Well, isn’t this fucking precious?” Daniel shut the French doors behind him and angled an icy stare at her. “And here I thought we had an understanding, wife. Guess I should’ve known better than ta
ke the word of a whore.”

  “Harrison, don’t—”

  Too late.

  With the lapels of Daniel’s jacket fisted in his hands, Harrison swung the smaller man toward the stone rail and shoved him half over it. Breath locked in Fiona’s lungs, and she swallowed hard. Jesus Christ. He wouldn’t actually toss him off the balcony, would he? The disdain in Harrison’s gaze said he was seriously considering it.

  “For Fuck’s sake, Lancaster!” Daniel paled. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  “Regret?” Harrison scoffed. “If you think I’d experience a shred of remorse putting you over this railing, you don’t know me very well.”

  Daniel gulped.

  “Please, don’t.” Fiona touched Harrison’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it.”

  Daniel looked at her incredulously and sneered. “You want to talk about worth? Really?”

  “Bastard.”

  Daniel’s feet lifted off the ground, legs flailing in mid-air. Fiona’s stomach plummeted.

  “Fuck. Christ. Fuck! Don’t drop me! Crazy son of a bitch,” Daniel blurted. “Okay, okay! I take it back!”

  “I’ve grown so very tired of men like you—bullies, cons, and abusers in fifteen hundred dollar suits.” Harrison shook his head. “You think you’re untouchable because of who you do favors for? We’ll see how many tears they shed or how quickly they dig up another dirty politician to take your place when you’re no longer capable of pulling strings.”

  “W—wait!” Sweat glistened on Daniel’s face as his chest heaved. “Is that what this is all about? A little dirty money and a few questionable permits I pushed through for De Luca? All of us do it. If you want to go vigilante on someone, go talk to Adams. He was the one in charge when Rosetti paid him the twenty grand to stall the vote on the demolition over in West Avenue. People died there.”

  “My God. You knew about that and had information that could’ve prevented it? How could you be so selfish?” Fiona demanded.