by Trisha Wolfe
The pressure on my chest eases some, and I nod toward the bed nearest her. “You’ll sleep here tonight, then I’ll arrange for Jefferson to take you home in the morning.” I walk toward the other bed and remove my suit jacket. “Tomorrow, go to Julia. She’ll show you to your office—”
“Office?” she interrupts, and immediately realizes her mistake. Her head bows as she mutters, “Sorry, sir.”
For some reason, my chest pangs at her response. “Chase,” I correct, unbuttoning my shirt and tugging it off. “Remember? When alone, that’s fine. You’re such a fast learner, though.” I give her a smile, which seems to lighten her dejected countenance.
“As I was saying—” I strip off my pants, needing to be rid of the binding clothes “—your office. It’s a few doors down from mine, and I’ll have your assignments prepared for you when you arrive. Julia will help you get situated, but you can come to me with any questions.” I stall near the edge of the bed, turn toward her. “I have no doubt that you’ll do well in this position. You’ve worked hard, Alexis. You do deserve this promotion.”
She tucks her feet beneath her, sitting so casually on the bed it makes my chest ache at the beautiful sight of her. With each softly spoken word, she seems to come alive a little more. Oddly, it encourages me to say more—to want to see this side of her.
“Always let me know what you need,” I say as I pull back the comforter and slip into bed. “I’ll take care of you.”
Before I reach toward the lamp, she eases off the bed and approaches mine, her steps as timid as her downturned gaze.
“I need to feel you next to me,” she says, her voice breathy, unsure.
Against my better judgment, I peel back the sheets, welcoming her into my bed. I should be stern, teaching her her place. But I can see she needs more aftercare than I’ve offered her thus far.
I don’t think it was my brutality in taking her tonight that has shaken her. It was more the display on which I put her. Stripped nude before her subordinates. Made to perform sexually with women before an audience—which I have no doubt she has never experienced.
Although that is required in the induction, it was more for me. Knowing just how humiliated she’d feel. And yes, when being inducted as my sub, she was supposed to be shared among the partners. That’s the agreement. That’s what keeps us equal.
I broke the covenant.
Of course, it’s within my power to do so—to assert my dominance over them—but it was a test I failed for myself. I didn’t know if I’d be able to go through with it, to allow them to touch her until that moment. And in a blinding fit of fury, I had my answer.
And now, they have theirs.
If one of them is really moving into position to advance a takeover, they know I’m vulnerable. My gambit failed. I thought I could sacrifice Alexis to them—to reestablish my dominance—but she turned out to be too great a sacrifice.
She is not a pawn to be maneuvered. She is not even a pawn to be promoted; she is already my queen.
And to my utter dread, I know the queen holds all the power.
Should they try to abuse that knowledge, however, I’ll have to remove their power. For now, I’ll need to keep Alexis under close watch.
Her slender body presses up against mine as she hesitantly lays her head on my chest. Her wet hair is bothersome at first, and I open my mouth to order her to dry it—but her scent of lavender soon douses my irritation, and I wrap my arm around her. I have to admit, though I couldn’t sleep like this, the feel of her so close and under my protection eases the rest of the lingering anxiety.
“Tonight was hard for you,” I say. It’s not a question.
She nods against me. “Yes.”
I run my fingers along her back, giving her the comforting touch she needs. “It was more difficult than it should’ve been. That is partly my fault,” I admit.
“Because they weren’t supposed to touch me.”
My eyes close as I release the tightness from my chest with a heavy breath. “No, because they were.”
She shivers as I stroke her arm, and I’m not sure if it’s due to my admission or my callused touch. Possibly both. “Once something is mine—once it belongs to me, I don’t like sharing. And ironically, I’m the one who designed the induction rule. It was meant to create an equality among the partners.”
Bravely, she rests her hand on my chest, her fingers splaying over me. “You didn’t think you’d change your mind.”
A clipped laugh slips free. “Close.” I glance down, taking her in with a hard swallow. “I don’t believe any of us are capable of change. Truthfully, I never feared that there would ever be something or someone that I’d deem valuable enough not to be shared among the partners. It was a rule I enforced more for them than myself. To keep any one of them from asserting themselves over another.” I stroke her damp hair. “It’s not within our makeup to share power.”
“Then why put men like that in charge at all?”
Good question. “Because The Firm needs dominant overseers to ensure the members obey the rules. And the law firm needs respected partners to set a standard.”
She tilts her head back, her green eyes catching the low lamplight. “I think you enjoyed asserting your dominance over them tonight.”
A crooked smile hikes my face. Relief settles me more—that I didn’t thoroughly terrify her. However, what does it mean that I terrified myself? “I enjoyed taking you from them.”
I enjoyed it far too much—to the point I nearly lost control.
The second I felt myself slip…Alexis broke through and could’ve easily pulled a switch. She could’ve demanded I do anything in that moment, and I would’ve obeyed her without question. Without thought. Willingly and helplessly. And that’s what has the monster within snapping and growling to finish her off.
She’s more of a threat than any one of the partners.
Shifting her to lie on her side, I wrap an arm around her. Content for now to keep her close. “Do you know why you cry when you’re ridiculed? When you’re embarrassed? Why the shame causes your chest to ache?”
She tenses at my abrupt change of topic. Remaining silent, she shakes her head against the pillow.
“Humiliation stimulates certain brain regions associated with physical pain,” I say. “Most people take that hurt and convert it into anger, a defense mechanism, to protect themselves. You, my unique creature, simply feel that pain. It lives inside you. That is what makes you so much more tantalizing to every top and Dom out there – you are a true submissive. You surrender to your emotions. You don’t hide from them or try to fight them. You’re a rare and delectable treat. I have never come across a more perfect, tempting woman in my existence. And that is why, from here on out, as you are mine to possess, I’m your shelter. No one will ever hurt you again. If they wound you internally, they will bleed.”
She lies still in my arms. During my speech, she barely blinked, an almost mesmerized glaze to her expression that holds me captivated. This beautiful woman is looking at me like I’m the world to behold—yet it is she who has upset my most basic beliefs.
Her fingers pull away to clasp the pendant of her necklace. “Does it have a meaning?”
How far do I take her down the rabbit hole? My actions tonight didn’t scare her—but at some point, the veil will slip too far, and there won’t be any turning back.
“It’s a skylark,” I say simply.
Her eyebrows draw together. “Like your hotel.”
“That, and it’s a play on my surname.” I pause a beat, just to accept that I’ve opened this door to her. “Pride was a big deal to my father. He believed names hold value, so I took that to heart. Plus,” I add, bringing her closer. “I knew it would look beautiful on you.”
The doubt in her eyes calls me out, and I chuckle. “You didn’t have this designed for me,” she says.
“No, I didn’t,” I say, admitting the truth. “But I had it designed with you in mind.”
She accepts this more easily than I’m comfortable with. And I despise how honest and unfiltered the statement is. I suck in a breath and release her. “Roll over and get some sleep.”
My abruptness severs the moment. She nods as I move toward the other side of the bed. There’s more damage control that will need to be done tomorrow. But lying next to Alexis, hearing her shallow breaths as she drifts asleep, relieves the urgency I’d normally feel to control the matter.
The ringing of my phone brings me out of a heavy sleep. I’m disoriented for a moment until I recognize the hotel room. Bathed in early morning light, her features pale and her body curled beneath the white comforter, Alexis slumbers through the ringing that has now been picked up by the hotel phone.
I reach across her and grab the handset. “Who is this?”
“We’re sorry to disturb you, sir,” the woman on the other end says. “But there’s an urgent call from a Mister Malcolm Bates. Do you wish me to connect you?”
I blink hard a couple of times, clearing my vision. “Yes. Put me through to him.” I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand: 5:25 a.m. A knot forms in my throat, dread prickling my skin immediately.
As I wait to be patched through, the clicking of the earpiece forces me out of bed, my annoyance bringing me fully awake. The press. A disgruntled neighbor. Kids pranking. Bates’ reputation has suffered during the trial, so I prepped him for the public backlash.
“Larkin,” he says, his weary voice coming through the line.
“What is it, Malcolm?”
“I need you to come to my house in Falls Church. I’m about to be arrested.”
My hand grips the handset as I pull it away and utter a harsh curse. With a deep inhale, I bring it back to my ear. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything.”
“I know,” he says, and he does. We’ve been through this before.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I slam down the phone. “Fuck.”
Alexis is awake now, her arms wrapped around her knees as she watches me pace across the room, picking up clothes and dressing hurriedly.
“Find something decent to wear,” I say, buttoning my dress shirt. I snake my tie around my neck, forgoing tying it. “Now.”
She springs off the bed and grabs for any clothes she can find in the closet. “What’s wrong?”
When it comes to Malcolm Bates, what’s not wrong? I squeeze my eyes shut, angry with myself for thinking of my client with such contempt. But after nearly three months of working on one case—a rape case—I was relieved it was over.
“Bates,” I answer her, figuring that’s answer enough. “I need you to start a couple hours early. There’s a recorder in my briefcase, and I need you to take notes. Just—” I look at her, loathing that this is her introduction into her new position. “Let me know if anything becomes too much.”
Her head tilts a bit as she studies me, her gaze feeling intrusive in this small room. “All right,” she says.
I notify Jefferson to pick us up at the front of the hotel. I’m sure he’s not ecstatic over the early morning call, either, but that’s why he’s paid very nicely for his services.
He’s already waiting at the front as we exit, coffees to-go. Anticipating my needs; another reason why he’s paid so generously. Once he delivers us to my personal car, I give him a directive to take the rest of the day off. The less people involved, the less who have privileged information.
I try to prepare Alexis for what she might see or hear, though I doubt I’m doing any good. This is not how I planned her induction to go—being introduced to my world through the grime I have to shuffle.
I’m a difficult man. I have extreme, sexual preferences. But rape is not one of them. Only the lowest of filth gets a power trip from raping another human being. Power is to be obtained willingly—by earning it—not stripping it from another.
Which is why being Malcolm Bates’ lawyer is becoming increasingly challenging. The day I no longer trust in his innocence, is the day he not only needs to find new representation, but a new city.
Alexis sits in the passenger-seat, quietly thinking. Taking in the overcast morning with her cup of coffee warming her hands. I typically have Julia send over whichever paralegal or lawyer I see fit to meet with clients. Alexis was never one of them. Not because she’s incapable. Rather, because I sheltered her from the more difficult cases.
Also, I wasn’t sure I could concentrate on my clients with her so near.
This is her test as much as it is mine.
“Pull my laptop out and get familiar with his cases,” I say, veering onto the highway.
Falls Church is only about fifteen minutes from the Skylark, but we make it there in less than ten. Ten short minutes where I convince myself of my client’s innocence.
11
My Mirror Speaks
Alexis
My weekends normally pass in a blur of nothingness. There is no measure of time more precise than that of boredom. Like flipping the pages of a book, watching someone else’s life play out in rapid succession, it’s safe, and isolating.
And for the past three years of my life, I have done everything within my power to keep my world at a distance from my past.
Being with Chase—even for the short time that I have—has suspended my internal clock. Days feel like years, minutes like days, seconds like hours. I can’t accurately compare it to anything I’ve ever experienced, as I’ve never experienced anything or anyone like him before.
I’ve watched him at a distance for a year, as an observer, fantasizing. Longing. Desiring…but never once confusing my reality with expectation. He was just like a fictional character. I was under no delusion that I’d ever become a part of his reality.
The moment he touched me, I changed. There was no impact on him; I absorbed the shock. I’m also under no delusion that I am anything more to him than what he desires for me to be.
I am his object of derision.
I am his.
A belonging.
And the glimpses he gives me beneath his rigid exterior are enough to sustain me. Like last night. I’m as equally aroused by his brutal touch as I am by his tender caress. I crave his harsh declarations just as I desire to hear his whispered confessions.
If you’re to love someone, love them wholly. You can’t break them down into pieces. Compartmentalizing. Puzzling a person into the perfect, ideal someone. If I belong to Chase, then I belong to the monster as much as I do the man.
I’m just unsure of which one will finally break me.
I fiddle with the top button of my thin blouse, unaccustomed to wearing such revealing or expensive clothes. I know it’s expensive, because his tastes are extravagant. The car I’m in now is sleek and silver, and is probably worth more than I earn in two years. It soars over the road at a speed I’m sure is faster than it feels.
In the short time allotted to me, I’ve gone over Malcolm Bates’ case files, trying to memorize the details. Chase peeks over at me often, a deep crease between his brows. I’m not sure if he’s concerned about my ability to be his personal paralegal, or if it’s the nature of the cases he’s worried I won’t be able to handle.
He’s not wrong to question either.
As we pull up to an enormous house, the gate is open, squad cars blocking off the entrance. “I’m the doctor’s lawyer,” he says as an officer approaches the car. “This is my assistant.”
Chase hands the cop his driver’s license, earning a scowl from the young officer. The cop glances at it quickly before handing it back and waving us through.
“Follow my lead,” Chase says as he parks behind one of the squad cars. “They’re going to arrest him, so we need to get as much information and any and all clues to the evidence they have before then.”
Recorder in hand, I stuff my phone and the laptop into his briefcase, only taking a pad and pen with me. I finger the little bird pendant as I stare ahead, notepad tucked close to my chest, concentrating too hard on regulat
ing my breathing.
Then the feel of Chase’s fingers clasping my chin speeds my already racing heart. He turns my face toward him as he leans over the console. “You’re mine. That means nothing can touch you. Not even this filth.”
His blue eyes blaze with the certainty of his words. I nod against his hold, and his fingers splay along my jaw, bringing me close enough to kiss.
“Later, I’m going to fuck anything that upsets you right out of your head,” he avows against my lips before tenderly touching his to mine, the contrast between his heated promise and gentle caress stealing my breath.
The whiplash spins my mind as I follow him past the open door into an elegant foyer. I need to focus, and yet all I can think about is the lingering wetness between my thighs. Only when I see the man who’s been splashed all over the Internet and TV seated at the bottom of the stairs, a cold blast knocks all enticing thoughts of Chase away.
Malcolm Bates is handsome. His gray-streaked hair is distinguished, accentuating his dark, clean-shaven features rather than aging him. He doesn’t look like a rapist—but as I know from experience, rapists don’t have a stereotypical profile.
I suppress a shudder as Chase reaches down to shake his hand. “Let’s find a private place to talk,” he says.
Malcolm nods, rising and leading us toward an office. A detective in a clichéd trench coat and scruffy beard eyes me before he motions a cop to stand guard at the door.
With shaky hands, I press Record on the device, then set it on the desk to prepare to take notes. So far, there doesn’t appear to be anything that stands out. This isn’t the crime scene, so why are they searching here?
“Keep your voice low,” Chase says to his client. “Tell me everything you know.”
Malcolm runs a hand through his disheveled hair, as if he’s been doing so all morning. “I don’t know anything,” he says, his voice rough, ragged. “I’ve been here all weekend. Haven’t had any company.”