Bondage And Bureaucracy

by Rynne Raines

Daniel shrugged.

  Bile rose in Fiona’s throat. She remembered the West Avenue project. It had been one of the drop-in center locations where youth ages twelve to eighteen could spend time and obtain free counseling services. The building was a hazard that needed to be torn down and rebuilt from the ground up. Two counselors and a seventeen-year-old girl had been crushed.

  “You’re unbelievable,” Harrison replied in disgust. “Fortunately, we won’t need to worry about you making it into Senate anytime soon.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Last time I checked, I was neck in neck with you.”

  To Fiona’s surprise, Harrison pulled Daniel up to safety and set him back on his feet. “Check again.”

  A gathering of people stood just inside the French doors, horrified expressions. The district attorney stood front and center, ice in his eyes.

  “What the fuck is this?” Daniel snapped.

  “The end of your career I’d say.” Harrison lifted the mini microphone off Daniel’s lapel and tapped it. The crowd cringed. Even from outside, the shriek of static feedback could be heard piercing through the banquet hall. The most influential players in New York just witnessed the callous confession and from Daniel’s expression, it looked as if he wished Harrison had dropped him over the rail after all.

  ****

  Tuxedo jacket slung over his shoulder, Harrison gave his bowtie an aggravated jerk as he shoved through the revolving doors of city hall. The autumn air was crisp and refreshing compared to the stuffy centralized crap he’d been sitting in the last few hours, but it was hardly brisk enough to cool his temper.

  “Hastings and thirty-first,” he snapped, sliding into the backseat of one of several cabs lined up on the street outside. Hearing his own sharp tone he swore under his breath and frowned. “Please.”

  The white-haired, old man behind the wheel gave an understanding nod, then shifted into drive. Harrison took a deep breath. It wasn’t in his nature to snap, let alone at random strangers. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Being trapped in a two hour-long interrogation with the district attorney regarding his knowledge on Forrester’s dealings with organized crime was not how Harrison planned for tonight to end.

  When he devised his plan to expose Forrester’s corruption, he had envisioned the night ending with Fiona apologizing for brushing him off the last two months and then professing her undying love while a crowd of angry socialites tore Daniel limb from limb.

  Reality was rarely so dramatic. Or satisfying.

  He pulled out his phone, stared down at the screen, and scowled.

  No new calls. No new messages.

  Could he blame her for disappearing from the gala without a word and keeping her distance at a time like this? Already, the media hounds were chomping at the bit for interviews with anyone who held ties to Forrester or Adams. Fiona would top their list. Knowing her feelings and background with politics and the press, Harrison imagined she would find a hotel and lie low for as long as possible. So, could he blame her for running? No. But he didn’t have to be happy about it.

  He rode the elevator up to his floor in silent reflection of the evening’s events and concluded that Fiona would make contact when she was ready. His little submissive would come to him without being cornered, coerced, or chased. And she would come to him. He saw the longing in her eyes tonight. The bond they established remained strong and true.

  Whether or not she somehow remained Forrester’s wife on paper, Fiona belonged to him. They belonged to each other.

  “Ballsy move back there.”

  Harrison lifted his gaze to the end of the hall and frowned at Marcus coming out of his apartment suite.

  “More calculated than ballsy,” he replied in a dry tone. “Do I dare ask where the hell you’ve been all night?”

  “Damage control.”

  “In my apartment?”

  “Not exactly. You know, you could’ve told me what you planned on doing tonight. If I’d known what was going on, I could’ve handled the backlash better. “

  “Handled the backlash?” Harrison scoffed. “Strange, I didn’t see you handling anything while I sat for two hours listening to Mason’s crazy conspiracy theories.”

  “Something more important came up.”

  Harrison arched an eyebrow. Something more important than him getting grilled by the district attorney’s office?

  “What are you doing here, Marc?”

  “I’m sure Fiona will explain everything.” Marc gave him a pat on the shoulder, started past him, and called back over his shoulder, “I’ll draw up an official statement for you to address the press with and fax it over first thing in the morning.”

  Unable to get past the first thing his brother said, Harrison stared at the door ajar to his apartment. When he turned back, intent on carrying out an interrogation of his own, Marc stepped into the elevator.

  Harrison entered the foyer and eased the door shut behind him. Light flickered beyond the entrance stairs, bouncing along the windows opposite the kitchen. Playful, jumping light. He arched an eyebrow and carelessly tossed his suit coat onto the entrance bench on his way up the stairs. His heart paused. She was here. He could feel the warmth of her inside the apartment. It seemed impossible that a woman could change the entire ambiance of his home simply by being there, but Fiona did. He had missed her dreadfully. He turned the corner and froze.

  She stood at the fireplace. The slim shadow of her silhouette stretched across the area rug behind her. She still wore the sage dress but had removed the pins from her hair. Long, beautiful, ginger curls spilled over her shoulders down to the center of her back. It had grown since he’d seen her last, which seemed now like a lifetime ago.

  He flexed his jaw and battled the urgency to cross his living room in a single bound, take her in his arms, and kiss her more soundly and more savagely than he had their entire weekend together. As much as he wanted to touch her, claim her, he needed an explanation for why she abandoned their plans and left him guessing for months. One taste of that pretty mouth and he wouldn’t be getting any answers for hours, maybe even days.

  His eyes traveled along the subtle curves of her body, and his cock jerked. Maybe talk was overrated…

  “I can feel you watching me,” she murmured. The hint of a smile in her gentle voice made his knees weak.

  “I’m waiting,” he replied quietly from behind her, resisting the need to stroke her hair as she continued to gaze into the fire.

  “Oh? What for?”

  “An apology.” Her posture went from relaxed to rigid in the matter of a heartbeat. It wasn’t nice of him to tease her, but then it wasn’t nice of her to leave him high and dry at the party, either. He clasped her shoulders and eased her around to face him. “You stole my ride home. I was forced to take a cab. Do you know what types of things happen in the backseat of cabs?”

  She lifted her gaze to him and her solemn expression lightened. “Your brother was quick to abandon you once I told him what was at stake of being found.” She gestured to the coffee table.

  Harrison stepped toward the table and scanned over several photographs and two small thumb drives. He recognized one of the photographs as the one of her in the barn. The others he hadn’t seen before tonight, but he knew exactly when and where they were taken. So, Forrester had been blackmailing her all along. Typical of the bastard.

  “Is that everything?”

  “I can’t be one hundred percent certain, but I hardly think any man narcissistic enough to use his own birth date as a combination to his personal wall safe would entrust his secrets with anyone but himself. I would have got them sooner, but he always took them with him in his briefcase when he left the house. Tonight was the first night I knew they’d be locked up.” She leaned, tossing the photos and drives into the fire.

  For a time, they stood in silence watching the photos curl and bubble. The destruction of the jump drives would take longer, but eventually they too would break down to the point of bei
ng unrecoverable.

  “I should have told you,” she said some time later, an ache in her voice. “I should have told you everything, but I was afraid you might do something reckless. I couldn’t stand it if you lost everything because of me. There’s so much I need to say to you. First of all, I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”

  Irritation and endearment for her selfless nature tugged at Harrison’s heartstrings. She deserved a sound spanking for avoiding him all this time instead of trusting him, and he would gladly give her one, but not tonight. Her face was as ashen pale as it had been at the gala, and her hand stroked back and forth over her lower abdomen. She was ill. She needed rest and relaxation before they discussed what her punishment should be.

  “I really am sorry. I never meant to and—”

  “Shh, love.” He stroked the pad of his thumb lightly over her lips and shook his head. “I understand why you did what you did. As much as I don’t like it that you put everyone else first, it’s also one of the reasons I love you.”

  Like a deer in the headlights, her watery eyes widened. He brushed the hair off her forehead and realized her skin was slightly clammy. Christ. She shouldn’t even be on her feet right now, let alone have attended the gala earlier.

  “You…you love me?” she whispered.

  “I do.” He threw her arm around the back of his neck, gathered her up in his arms, and headed for the bedroom. “Which is why we’re going to continue this conversation tomorrow.”

  He loves me.

  “Mmm.” Fiona nuzzled her face along the crook of his neck and deeply inhaled. God, she had missed the smell of him. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  They could talk later. Right now there was nothing she wanted more than to make up for lost time. Two months had stretched on for what almost seemed longer than her ten years married to Daniel. Lord, how she missed Harrison’s strong arms around her, the solid power of his chest under her palms. Just being near him heated her blood.

  He set her on her feet next to the bed, her back to his chest. His deft fingers had the back zipper down and off before she could count to ten. Apparently he missed her as much as she missed him. In anticipation, she closed her eyes and held her breath as he unclasped her bra and stripped off her panties. His touch felt slightly mechanical in comparison to all the other times he had undressed her, but she wasn’t about to complain. She was just glad he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge.

  His arm hooked behind her bare legs, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. This was what she’d been dreaming about the last two months. The moment when they would finally be reunited.

  He lowered her onto the bed and she tilted her head back in preparation for his kiss.

  “In you go.”

  In you go?

  Fiona opened her eyes just in time to see him tucking the comforter snuggly around her nude frame. He was covering her up? This was a first.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water and a damp cloth for your forehead. I think you might have a slight fever.”

  “Wait! What?” she stammered, shoving up into a sitting position. “You’re putting me to bed?” Again?

  “I’m not about to punish and manhandle an ill woman. I like to think I have more restraint than that.”

  Fiona swore under her breath. “I’m not ill.”

  “You need fluids and rest.”

  “I am not ill.”

  “If you’re still feeling clammy in the morning, you will be going to the doctor whether you want to or not.”

  “Jesus Christ, I’m not sick.” She laughed. “I’m pregnant!”

  Glass of water in one hand and a damp cloth in the other, Harrison came to a skidding halt in the bathroom doorway. He stared at her from across the room. The creases in his brow momentarily deepened, smoothed, then deepened again. By his expression she couldn’t tell whether he was displeased with her announcement or trapped in sheer disbelief.

  “Please, say something,” she begged.

  “Pregnant,” he echoed, a quizzical eyebrow rising. “You’re pregnant.”

  “I believe we already covered that,” she muttered, dread beginning to swallow up her giddiness.

  He crossed the room, sat the water and cloth on the nightstand, then lowered onto the edge of the bed.

  “Listen, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted—”

  He jerked her against him and kissed her so deeply, so thoroughly that she lost the ability to think. Then as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss, he broke it off.

  “Pregnant!” he exclaimed so loudly it startled her. A rare, full blown smile erupted on his face and reached all the way into his eyes. He grasped her shoulders and shook her like a ragdoll. “This is wonderful news! How? How did this happen?”

  “You really need me to tell you how?” She giggled hysterically.

  “You know damned well that’s not what I meant. Sassy little thing.”

  “I’m not sure how.” She swallowed back her laughter long enough to shrug her shoulders. “I guess my lady parts are more discerning than inhospitable.”

  “I don’t care how it happened, just that it happened.” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “My sweet, beautiful, pregnant submissive. We’re having a baby. A baby.”

  “Yes,” she whispered as tears of joy swelled in her eyes. “We’re having a baby.”

  Harrison eased her back and looked into her eyes. “Marry me, Fiona.”

  “This isn’t the nineteenth century,” she laughed. “You don’t have to propose just because I’m pregnant.”

  “Don’t be silly. I love you. I want to marry you.” He brushed her cheeks with his knuckles and sighed. “The night you left here, this place became instantly cold. It was so quiet and bleak I nearly called my brother to go for a beer.”

  “Oh, that must have been very bleak,” she said in a dramatic tone.

  “It was empty is what I’m trying to say. I knew from that moment I had to get you back here as soon as possible and never let you go. So, marry me.” He stroked her hair and a mischievous gleam twinkled in his eyes. “Do I have to tie you to this bed and leave you here until you’re ready to say, yes? I’ll gladly do it.”

  Delight burst in her chest.

  “Yes.”

  “All right. You asked for it.”

  “No!” she squealed, as he reached for the nightstand where she knew well he kept several naughty toys. “I meant, yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

  About the Author

  Rynne Raines lives in rural Westaskiwin, AB. The Canadian girl writes fast-paced Erotic Romance for readers who like a little kink with their coffee and Hot Paranormals for those who enjoy taking a walk on the wicked side of night.

  Visit Rynne at

  www.RynneRaines.com

  To chat with Rynne Raines and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.

  Also Available

  Legally Bound

  by

  Rynne Raines

  Evelyn Morgan has a secret. Donavan Carver wants to expose it. Bondage, debauchery, and a weekend at Eden lands one of them on their knees.

  For years, Eve has craved sexual domination, but a kinky romp in the hay isn’t worth destroying her prestigious legal reputation over. Even if that romp’s with her handsome rival and legendary Dominant, Donavan Carver. Desperate to protect her secret and keep the notorious playboy at bay, Eve clings to the lie she’s told for two years—she’s a Domme. Donavan doesn’t buy it. Given an opportunity to put Donavan’s doubts to rest, Eve lures him into a bet he can’t win—one that will tether him to her leash. So what if she cheats to win? He’ll never find out. Or will he?

  Turn the page to read an excerpt.

  Chapter One

  The double doors of the courtroom opened into a sea of reporters and quick-finger photographers hailing from the Times, Daily News, and every tabloid magazine in the city eager to get first scoop on
the highest profile divorce case in Los Angeles. And, Eve Morgan stood center stage of it all.

  Well, nearly center stage.

  With three-hundred and fifty million dollars at stake, Langly vs. Langly would go down as the biggest case of her legal career. Walking away victorious meant newspapers quoting her and competing law firms clamoring for her. Finally, being one-up on her handsome rival, Donavan Carver, was the icing on the cake.

  Flash after flash assaulted Eve’s eyes but through the little white spots dancing around her head she watched Donavan usher his client toward the cluster of reporters gathered behind the security barrier.

  Carver always did look good on camera, Eve noted with a twinge of envy. Although he was tall and lean, blessed with broad shoulders and a stubborn, sculpted jaw most movie stars would kill for, those weren’t the only reasons why the cameras and the Press loved him. His stance alone commanded respect. Even as the media jabbed hand-held recorders and microphones toward his face, he kept his annotations crisp and clean, exuding poise. He dominated an interview like he dominated his lovers, with unwavering confidence and a firm yet skillful hand.

  As he answered question after question shouted by the Press, Eve’s gaze unwillingly skimmed the length of his masculine body. The suit he was wearing didn’t do him justice. Under his finely woven polyester jacket and well-fitted dark slacks was the body of a Grecian God. This much she knew. At the moment, part of her wished she didn’t.

  By day Donavan might don a suit and tie and carry a briefcase. By night, however, he sported a pair of leather pants that hugged his tight ass to perfection and wielded a flogger, a set of handcuffs, and a blindfold.

  Oh yes, Donavan Carver was the crème de la crème of Doms who frequented Eden—the fetish club her best friend’s husband owned. On several occasions when she met Caitlyn for drinks, she’d spotted Donavan there, surrounded by a harem of scantily clad women vying for his attention. Most nights he would single one out from the flock and disappear with them inside one of Eden’s secluded pleasure rooms.