Point of Release (Point Series Book 2)

by Remy Rose

  POINT OF RELEASE

  Book 2 of the Point Series

  by

  Remy Rose

  Copyright © 2017 by Remy Rose

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system) without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference with no implied endorsement.

  Cover art by Reese Inman of Bookmark Design (https://ebookcoverdesign.net)

  To horses and hot guys, and the joy of riding both ;).

  Table of Contents

  The final two chapters from Point of Submission follow:...

  Carlo

  Cassandra

  POINT OF RELEASE

  chapter one ~ Carlo

  chapter two ~ Cassandra

  chapter three ~ Carlo

  chapter four ~ Cassandra

  chapter five ~ Carlo

  chapter six ~ Cassandra

  chapter seven ~ Carlo

  chapter eight ~ Cassandra

  chapter nine ~ Carlo

  chapter ten ~ Cassandra

  chapter eleven ~ Carlo

  chapter twelve ~ Cassandra

  chapter thirteen ~ Carlo

  chapter fourteen ~ Cassandra

  chapter fifteen ~ Carlo

  chapter sixteen ~ Cassandra

  chapter seventeen ~ Carlo

  chapter eighteen ~ Cassandra

  chapter nineteen ~ Carlo

  chapter twenty ~ Cassandra

  chapter twenty-one ~ Carlo

  chapter twenty-two ~ Cassandra

  chapter twenty-three ~ Carlo

  chapter twenty-four ~ Cassandra

  chapter twenty-five ~ Carlo

  chapter twenty-six ~ Cassandra

  chapter twenty-seven ~ Carlo

  chapter twenty-eight ~ Cassandra

  chapter twenty-nine ~ Carlo

  chapter thirty ~ Cassandra

  chapter thirty-one ~ Carlo

  chapter thirty-two ~ Cassandra

  chapter thirty-three ~ Carlo

  chapter thirty-four ~ Cassandra

  chapter thirty-five ~ Carlo

  chapter thirty-six ~ Cassandra

  chapter thirty-seven ~ Carlo

  chapter thirty-eight ~ Cassandra

  chapter thirty-nine ~ Carlo

  chapter forty ~ Cassandra

  chapter forty-one ~ Carlo

  chapter forty-two ~ Cassandra

  chapter forty-three ~ Carlo

  chapter forty-four ~ Cassandra

  chapter forty-five ~ Carlo

  chapter forty-six ~ Cassandra

  Other Books by Remy Rose

  Acknowledgments

  Contact

  The final two chapters from Point of Submission follow:...

  Carlo

  I’m stepping out of the shower, and it hits me that I feel good. Really, really good about today and things in general. Even though it’s Saturday, I went into the office to tie up some loose ends and then had a great workout at the gym. I feel cleansed, somehow. Everything seems brighter, lighter, and I’m wanting to make a fresh start with Cassandra. With life. I decided to follow Gianna's advice and let myself consider that it might be time. Time to shed the heavy cloak of guilt, regret and the past, and look to the future—possibly a future with Cassandra Larsen.

  I can’t wait to have her in my arms again—cover her mouth with mine, listen to her whimpers and sighs, feel her body as she molds herself to me. I want to make love to her with a sweet, slow build-up, but given how it will be to see each other again...we may both want the first time to be intense, hard fucking.

  I can do that.

  Last night, after texting with her, I slept soundly—no dreams—and woke up feeling hungry. I can’t ignore the fact that just knowing I’ll see her again has completely changed my mood—that, in and of itself, says something. But we have a long way to go...there are some major issues that need to be addressed, one being the reason I went after her in the first place. Things will be different from here on out: no secrets between us, even if it means being brutally honest. I’ll find a way, somehow, to tell her about the game. Which will have to include telling her the why.

  I’m toweling off, thinking how fucking painful this is going to be—painful for me to say, and for her to hear. But if this relationship is going to move forward, it needs to happen. And hopefully she’ll understand—maybe not right away, but with time. I’ll work like hell to make her see how much she’s come to mean to me. And I’ll take care of her sexually—keep exploring submission and domination with her, for the pure pleasure it can bring us both, without any ulterior motives.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and pull on my jeans, grinning as I remember Cassandra teasing me about the holes in them. Her sense of humor is one of the sexiest things about her. I need more of that—laughing, flirting. The kind of things that boys and girls who like each other do. I smile again, thinking of what Gi had said.

  Maybe I’ll take her to Maine. Walk the beach and go for a long drive to see the foliage, which will be at peak in mid-October. I can picture Cassandra loving the colors. And a change of scenery would be good for both of us.

  Pulling on a sweater, I get my watch off the nightstand and flinch when I see the alarm clock. Jesus...I’ve been so preoccupied with everything that’s transpired this week, I didn’t take care of the video evidence. Definitely doing that now. This model has an SD card that I can remove and destroy. Turning the clock around, I find the slot.

  With nothing inside.

  Cassandra

  So the way Brock is just standing here smiling is kind of creeping me out. I’m a little annoyed that he showed up when I was almost ready to leave, but hopefully he won’t stay long. Of course, I’ll be nice, seeing as he works with Carlo.

  “How are you?” I’ll start with that.

  “I'm wonderful. And you?”

  “I'm good, thanks. How did you know I worked here?”

  “Your boyfriend told me a while back.”

  This makes me blush and shake my head. “Oh—Carlo's not actually my boyfriend...we've just gone out a few times.”

  “Gone out? Is that what you'd call it?” Brock's smile broadens.

  He really is very attractive, but something in his eyes...ugh. Kind of a cold gleam. I curl my toes inside my shoes. “I guess so. We're just getting to know each other.”

  “Tip of the iceberg, you could say.” He laughs softly, folding his arms across his broad chest. “We didn't get to talk much at Gianna's engagement party.”

  “No.” I’m getting more and more confused by the minute at the total randomness of this conversation.

  “I wish we had, because I wanted to find out more about the girl whom Carlo was so intrigued with.”

  I’m blushing again, not knowing how the hell to respond. Is there a point to all of this? If so, I wish he'd hurry up and get to it, because I still need to sweep before I leave. Maybe I can move things along. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Annnd more staring and smiling. Awkward.

  “That's actually very ironic, Cassandra. It's more about how I can help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yes. I can tell you're quite naïve, a
nd where Carlo's such a private person, I thought it might help if you had a little insight from one of his old friends. Just to put you on more even playing ground with him in the game.”

  Game?

  “I was going to just tell you, but showing you is so much better.” He reaches into his pants pocket and takes out a small white envelope.

  Taking it, I thank him hesitantly.

  Brock waves his hand at me. “No need for thanks—I felt it was the right thing to do. There are directions for you to read. My phone number's there as well, if you want to chat later. And Cassandra—give my best to Carlo.” He flashes me a dazzling grin before turning to walk away. I can hear him whistling as he heads out the barn door.

  This is sooo very sketchy. Why would—

  I stop in mid-thought. Oh, God...of course! Carlo is behind this. Doing something to surprise me, and having Brock be part of the plan. I can’t believe I was so clueless and didn’t think of this sooner. No wonder Brock was finding it so amusing.

  I’m smiling as I open the envelope and take out the contents: a note, and what appears to be a small computer card.

  I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. But I can’t wait to find out.

  POINT OF RELEASE

  chapter one ~ Carlo

  Brock.

  The name shoots through me like a missile, tearing into my gut as I sit immobilized with disbelief on the edge of the bed, the alarm clock in my hands and my breath coming in hot, harsh gasps. At this point, there’s no solid proof, but the feeling is so strong, so sure, it gives weight to the instinct laying cold, thick, and heavy inside of me.

  I turn the clock over, running my finger along the slot where the SD card goes. Where it should be.

  The intense desire to know how the fuck this happened is overshadowed by a paralyzing feeling of dread, snaking up my spine and gripping until I can barely breathe. I’m not used to being shaken like this. I can’t allow it. Regroup. Fucking regroup. Maybe these fears are unfounded and there’s some other explanation.

  Setting the clock on the bed, I lean forward to look at the nightstand, scanning its surface and hoping that somehow, the card simply got dislodged.

  Nothing.

  Maybe it fell on the floor. I stand up to shove the nightstand away from the wall, knocking over the lamp, and get on my hands and knees to look on the carpet. Again...nothing.

  Sitting back down on the bed, my heart plummets. The card is definitely gone. But when? And how?

  My initial hunch that it’s Brock flares brightly inside me once again. I need logic—rational thought. Who has been in my house? Cassandra, but she was never alone in my bedroom. My housekeeper, Rosa, would have been in here to clean yesterday—she comes every Friday—but there isn’t anything out of the ordinary about this clock to catch her eye and want to check it out. Even if she dusted it, she wouldn't have ever—

  And then the connection.

  Rosa also works for Brock.

  The realization reverberates in my brain. Brockton Dall. Betraying me once again.

  “Mother fucker.” I say it low, even though there’s rage pulsing in my veins. I rake my fingers through my hair, hating that my hands are trembling, hating myself for not destroying the card earlier, hating the feeling of helplessness spreading through me like a malignancy.

  I’ve got to get to Cassandra. I already made the decision to tell her about the game, about my past...I wanted to ease into it, but if it means getting to her before Brock does, I’ll find a way to tell her everything—now. The thought of Cassandra learning about the contest from my sleazy, traitorous former colleague is almost more than I can stand.

  There’s a chance that I’m not too late. There is every reason to believe Brock is holding onto the card for evidence, planning to use it for blackmail. That would definitely be his style. If Cassandra hasn't learned anything, I’ll tell her myself and thwart Dall's blackmail attempt. Then I’d be rid of that son of a bitch once and for all.

  I clench and unclench my hands, close my eyes, take some deep breaths. Standing up, I reach the bedroom door in a few quick strides, grabbing my phone from the top of the bureau on the way out. I’ll make a call to Rosa while I drive to Cassandra's apartment—to confirm what I already know.

  I climb into my Mercedes. It’s a beautiful October night, the sun a burning ball hovering on the horizon, streaking the sky with orange and pink. Less than an hour before, I would have considered this a perfect evening.

  My stomach roils as I slide the gear shift into drive and speed out of the driveway. It’s fucking incredible, really, how fast your perspective can change. All day I was thinking about a leisurely drive to Cassandra's place, filled with expectation. But now, I’m only feeling anxiety. And dread.

  I call Rosa. She picks up on the fourth ring.

  “Mr. Leone...hello.”

  “Hi, Rosa.” I force my voice to sound pleasant. “I'm calling to ask you about the alarm clock in my bedroom.”

  A hesitation. Fuck.

  “Yes?”

  “This particular model has a memory card, but it seems to be missing from the slot.” I pause. “Would you happen to know anything about this?”

  “Oh! I, um...” Rosa's voice trails off. She clears her throat. “I hope I'm not ruining anything by telling you.”

  “Ruining anything?”

  A sigh. “Yes. Mr. Dall called me yesterday morning and said he wanted to surprise you. He asked me to get the card out of the back of the clock for him...said it was some sort of private joke he was planning, and that you'd get a big kick out of it. Where you two are friends, I just figured it would be okay.” She pauses, her tone anxious. “It was an awkward position for me to be in, since I work for both of you. Ordinarily, I never would have done something like this, but Mr. Dall knew all about the clock, and he reminded me he has one just like it. So I figured this was something between the two of you, and it would be all right if I went along with him.”

  I’m gripping the steering wheel with my left hand. I can barely ask the question. “So you took the card yesterday, Rose?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Mr. Dall has it now?”

  “Yes.” Her voice is strained. “Mr. Leone, please forgive me if I did anything wrong. I know that you and Mr. Dall are good friends, so I honestly didn't see the harm.”

  Good friends. “You never should have given my personal property to anyone. You've violated my trust, Rosa. I'm going to need to think about whether you can keep working for me.”

  She gasps. “Mr. Leone, please don't be angry with me. Please.”

  I end the call and throw the phone into the passenger seat. Fucking Christ. I step on the gas pedal, and the car surges forward. Now my only hope is getting to Cassandra before Brock does. I want to call her, but what am I going to say? Have you talked to Brock? Bizarre question to ask her, and I don’t want to bring up that bastard's name if I don’t have to.

  I’ll know whether or not Brock has gotten to her the second I see her face.

  You've violated my trust, Rosa. On one level, I get why Rosa did what she did. But the trust—it’s broken, most likely irreparably…

  Jesus, that’s classic. Talk about hypocrisy...I’m considering firing my housekeeper for that transgression, yet I expect Cassandra to forgive me for major betrayal?

  God, please don't let it be too late. Don't let it be too late for the two of us.

  I guide the Mercedes around a bend, not caring that I’m driving too fast, not caring about anything except finding Cassandra and making things right. I’ll fight against this loss of control that’s threatening to weaken me yet again. And I’ll do fucking everything in my power to stop my world from unraveling.

  chapter two ~ Cassandra

  Any willpower I had regarding Carlo has packed its bags and gone on an indefinite vacation. Ever since I truly acknowledged my intense feelings and allowed myself to consider the possibility of Carlo as more reality than fantasy, there’s a lightness, a wide
-open-meadow kind of perspective that has overtaken me, bringing with it a feeling of throwing caution to the wind. Scary as hell, but invigorating at the same time. The idea that I now feel willing to give in to him, not only physically but emotionally, is liberating. And of course turns me on. I’m not going to be stupid and adolescent about it, but God, I want to tell him, show him—in a lot of different ways. I can’t wait to see him tonight. And that’s the reason I pushed my burning curiosity aside and shoved Brock's envelope in my jeans pocket for now, since I need to hurry and finish my barn chores so I can get home. To Carlo.

  I’ll read Brock's note in the car, though, because if my hunch is correct and Carlo put Brock up to this, it only makes sense to know what’s going on, before I see Carlo.

  I sweep the floor vigorously, my last job of the night at Windswept Stable. Ingrid, being the anal taskmaster that she is, always insists on a spotless aisle. Spotless everything: saddles polished with a rag and saddle soap at least once a week, bits wiped clean after every use, water and grain buckets scrubbed daily...and of course, the horses are all kept in a constant state of polished perfection. Sonya used to joke that Ingrid would make us buff the wings of horse flies if she could.

  I do my usual quick scan of the stable before I leave, because everything needs to be in its proper place—including the dressage whip I see on the bench near the cross-ties.

  Oh, God—the whip. A rush of heat to my face, remembering the last night with Carlo. The feel of the riding crop as he dragged it over my bare ass, my skin erupting in goosebumps as I fought the urge to shudder, because he had commanded me to remain absolutely still.

  Are you ready?

  I had whispered, yes. And then the crop had hit me. Even though I knew it was coming, it still surprised me, and it hurt. But it was a good hurt. I’ve never been with a man who was into spanking, and honestly would never have dreamed I’d want to participate, but with Carlo...I found myself wanting to please him, make him proud of me. So I had told him I was ready—really, really wanted to believe it—but I’d been overwhelmed. Cried, even. And that reaction had effed everything up.