Red Collar

by Cartharn, Clarissa

  She scoffed. “You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?”

  “Is that your way of saying “yes”?” he asked, sternly.

  She fidgeted with her toes again. “Yes,” she muttered solemnly.

  “Very well. Why don’t we seal the deal, then?” He reached for her waist and pulled her roughly to him, crushing his lips against hers.

  Her eyes widened in shock, her hands pushing against his shoulders in protest. But he held her tightly, his other hand firmly against the back of her head, her lips locked onto his. Her knees buckled from the stirrings he forced inside of her. When he finally let her go, she gasped for air.

  “How dare you?” she shouted, anger overpowering any rationality she had.

  She raised her hand to strike him but he caught it and pulled her back to him.

  She writhed in his grasp as he spoke softly against her lips, his breath raspy against her face.

  “I dare every bit,” he said. “You’re mine now. Only mine. And if you’re going to keep protesting about it like that, I will have to remind you again who it is that you belong to.”

  She tensed, stilling momentarily.

  He let her go gently.

  “Put your clothes on,” he said. “And meet me here tomorrow, at seven. That’s all for now Ms Ripley. You can go.”

  He walked over to turn the lights on.

  “Please don’t do that,” she blurted out.

  He turned.

  “Please don’t do that,” she said, slowly. “I haven’t… put my clothes on.”

  He stalled, watching her in the dim lights of the wall lamps. “You know the way out, Ms Ripley,” he said, gruffly. He lowered his head, put his hands in his pocket and ambled into the inner labyrinth of his penthouse apartment.

  Kate touched her lips. They still stung from his kiss. In the ill-lit room, she grabbed at her clothes and began dressing herself quickly. For a brief moment, she regretted not having him turn on the lights. She still didn’t know who she had kissed.

  Chapter 3

  Her family was asleep when she arrived home. It was late; it was already past midnight. She couldn’t believe that the altercation she had had with Clayton Reid had lasted as long as this.

  She grabbed her towel and made her way to the shower. As she stood under the spray of water, her mind inevitably ran over every detail of their encounter. She blushed when she remembered the touch of his fingers against her naked waistline. She put her fingers to where his once lay. Her skin prickled. Despite her resistance, she was strangely attracted to this man, although she had yet to recognize him by his face. His imprint, however, was forever engraved on her body.

  She shook her head and tried to return to the facts of her situation. She was no longer a bona fide secretary but a mistress to a wealthy man. It was a colossal leap for a plain Jane such as herself, who had always preferred to live unnoticed rather than attract any sort of attraction, even during her workplace Christmas parties. The only kind of parties she did attend.

  In all her years, she only ever had two boyfriends. The first dated her for three months, took away her virginity and then slipped away without calling her again. She was nineteen then. She had cried herself to sleep each night for the next week before finally gathering the courage to wipe away her tears, determined to be never treated like that again.

  Her second relationship was with Alan. She was twenty-two. She had met him at the food court in her local mall. It was her first year as secretary at a steel fabrication company while he was an apprentice at an automotive part manufacturer.

  It was Sunday. She rarely went out anywhere but it had been a quiet rain pouring weekend and her dad was unusually working through it. So, after almost a third day of rain, she couldn’t bear the stifling loneliness and made her way to the shopping mall. He was standing in queue behind her for a cup of coffee.

  “Hi, there,” he had said.

  Kate smiled. She didn’t respond nor did she even try to engage in a conversation. He was scruffy, with extremely short hair cut to his scalp. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a checkered oversized shirt.

  “Hi,” he said again.

  “Hi,” Kate said, realizing he was determined to speak to her. Probably, if she obliged, he would go away.

  “Are queues normally as long as this here?” he asked, curiously.

  “You’ve never been here?” she asked in return.

  “I don’t normally buy coffee,” he grinned.

  “Neither do I.” She gave him a small smile.

  “Well, then,” he said. “Do you want to join me? I’ve got to be somewhere in an hour. So you can be sure I won’t keep you.”

  She hesitated. “But I…”

  “For a free coffee? I’ll pay.”

  She noticed an adorable dimple denting his right cheek and the rough stubble on his square jaw. She smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

  That was one of the few times Alan had ever bought her anything. From there on, it was she paying for everything else.

  Her father didn’t approve of Alan. But she refused to give up on him, believing that he was simply going through a dry spell.

  However when her father died a year later, Alan never came to pay his respects until three days after the funeral. She took her father’s advice and threw him out when he finally did come by to see her. After which, she wept into her pillow for the next five days. On the sixth, she once more determined she would never be treated like that- again.

  Mornings were always hectic in their apartment. Kate never imagined she would have adjusted fast to a large family after living for most as an only child. She never really had any trouble with the boys accepting her into the family or six year old Lily, who worshipped the ground she walked on. Libby, on the other hand, was an entirely different tale. Kate supposed she challenged her status as being the eldest in the family.

  Libby was only eleven when Kate first entered her life on more than just a glimpsing occasion. Since her father’s death, their mother had become more dependent on her than ever. Until then, she never knew how much her father was involved in her mother’s life. He never spoke of it although she did know he had never stopped loving her. He had never spoken ill about her. And whenever he had sat with a can of beer at the table, she knew he was thinking of her.

  She never questioned her mother’s love for her. It was her alcoholism which shredded her once happy family to pieces. She was kind of grateful she knew of the wonderful mother that once lay behind that disease. Libby and the kids, on the other hand, never did know that mother. She, perhaps, was indeed lucky in some strange way.

  She prepared breakfast quickly and then packed a small lunch for each of her siblings.

  “Libby,” she said, as she fried some eggs. “Do you mind picking Lily from school, today?”

  Libby snorted over her glass of juice. “But you do that.”

  “I know I do. But I’m asking you if you could today.” A frown etched on Kate’s forehead. Libby’s rebellious nature had begun to irk her recently.

  “Why?”

  “Does there have to be a why?” Kate snapped. “I’m asking you to. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No,” said Libby, staring stubbornly at her. “Not enough for me. I want to know why you’re ditching your responsibility. Especially after all that talk on pitching into the family and playing our roles.” She mimicked Kate, rudely upturning her mouth as she did.

  Kate took in a deep breath, trying to hold her temper inside her. “I have to prepare for work tonight.”

  “You found a job?” asked Libby, curiously.

  Kate didn’t answer but continued to stir at the scrambled eggs in her hot pan.

  “Well, if it’s a nightshift,” Libby continued. “You still have the time to pick her up.”

  “Libby!” Kate seethed. “It’s my first night and I want to make sure I keep it to pay for that bloody smart phone that never does seem to leave your fingers. Now, are you going to pick Lily up or not?”


  “Yes,” Libby growled. “Wasn’t I doing it before you came and messed this family up more than it already was.” She pushed her chair roughly and stood up. Grabbing her lunch bag, she stormed out of the kitchen.

  Kate held onto the bench top and lowered her head, meditating to regain control on her temper. She felt someone hug her legs and she smiled.

  “You okay, Kate?” said Lily.

  “Yes, honey,” she said. “I’m fine. Libby’s not in a good mood today, is she?” Kate added teasingly.

  Lily scrunched her nose.

  Kate tickled it. “Why don’t you wait for me in the living room? I’ll finish with the kitchen in a second and then we can walk to school, huh?”

  Lily nodded and ran out. The blaring of an animated voice told Kate that she had turned the television on. It didn’t take long for Johnny to finish with his scrambled egg breakfast and rush after Lily. Rudy had already left with Libby to catch the bus to school.

  She cleaned up rather quickly, a chore she on other days took her time with, and then walked Johnny and Lily to school.

  In her room later, she was once more left alone to gloat over her upcoming meet with her new boss.

  *****

  She rummaged through her closet for a decent cocktail dress. She didn’t have many to choose from, considering that she very rarely went to any dance or party. The only one she was the most satisfied with so far was a little black dress with spaghetti straps. A little number she had bought for her Christmas party while still working at Miller’s Furniture and on Bridget’s insistence that she looked ravishing in it.

  She laid it on her bed, studying it. It was relatively new since she had only worn it once. After splurging a significant amount of her savings on that champagne dress she had worn last night, she didn’t have enough to go buy another. She wondered if that extravagant expense was a waste since she was now downgraded from secretary-cum-mistress to just mistress.

  She calculated her options. She couldn’t very well just go and wear it again. These wealthy folks had a remarkable memory on what someone wore twice in a row. She would definitely be fired altogether again. It was a situation she couldn’t afford.

  She strolled towards her mother’s bedroom. She heard her coughing a little. It was a hoarse, dry and nagging cough, after which she usually gasped for air. Kate walked over to her mother and helped her sit up.

  “That cough’s been pretty persistent, Mom,” she said, worriedly. “May be we should get it checked out.”

  But her mother waved aside her concern. “It’s just my cirrhosis. It’s alright. It was bound to start sooner or later.”

  Kate frowned. “We need to be careful of any on-setting pneumonia,” she said. “Have you taken your diuretics and your medication to keep down your ammonia levels?”

  Her mother nodded through another haggling cough.

  “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Kate asked.

  “I’ll manage,” her mother smiled. “I still have some use of my legs. They’re getting weak but they’ll take me to the bathroom.”

  Kate adjusted the pillows at her mother’s bed-head.

  “You bother yourself too much with me,” her mother said. “You should go out more often. You spent too much time with your father and now…with me.”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Kate said. “I don’t see it as a bother. I love spending the time with you.”

  Her mother touched her face softly. “I’m sorry. I made you like this. You became responsible at too young an age when you should have been playing, enjoying your young years. It’s not too late, Kate. It still isn’t late.”

  “I do go out,” Kate persisted.

  “Not since you moved in with us,” her mother argued. “Listen, Kate, it’s well enough to step in and help us out like you are doing. If you hadn’t moved in, I would probably have had to put the kids into foster homes. There was no way I could have taken care of them with my cirrhosis. Poor Lily, she’s just a baby...,” she stopped, trying to choke back her tears.

  “I’ll try, Mom,” assured Kate. She didn’t want to see her mother getting any more upset. “It’s gonna be hard though, with my new job and all.”

  “How is it?” her mother asked. “I heard you coming in quite late. Is it another late nighter again?”

  “It is. Tonight,” Kate said, biting her lips.

  “What are the hours?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Her mother frowned. “What do you mean? They should have given you the hours when you contracted, right?”

  “I’m just starting out. And it’s something… new.”

  “It isn’t a secretarial position? What sort of job is it?”

  “Mom,” Kate said. “You’re worrying, needlessly. It is similar to a secretarial position. And what does it matter, anyway. It pays well. And that’s what counts.”

  Her mother sighed. “I suppose.”

  Kate’s eyes inevitably followed to her mother’s closet. She knew there weren’t any dresses there that she could borrow or amend. Her mother never had any of those things. She knew she would never have that moment where daughters would gleefully ransack through their mother’s old things and wear them again.

  *****

  “I’ve made dinner,” she instructed Libby. “Stay in and don’t leave the kids alone. Mom’s asleep. She’s already taken her medication so you needn’t worry about it. And make sure you finish your homework. I don’t want to attend another lecture from your principal.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Libby replied, sarcastically.

  Kate glared. “Don’t run that mouth with me, Libby. I’m not your mother. And if you keep doing it, I just might show it by withdrawing your weekly allowance. What say?”

  Libby scowled.

  Kate was tempted to give a “Good”, but bit back. She didn’t want to provoke an argument with Libby. Not when she needed all her mental strength to face the most despicable man she’d met in her life.

  “You said you were going to work?” Libby asked curiously, studying her attire.

  “I am,” she answered, putting on a shimmering earring to liven up her dull dress.

  “What sort of work needs you to wear something skimpy like that?”

  “Work work,” Kate answered, impatiently. She hesitated and then asked, “Is it really skimpy?”

  Libby shrugged. “It looks cheap. I suppose it’s alright if you’re having a date with the delivery guy or something. He wouldn’t notice.”

  Kate stared at her disbelievingly and huffed. She studied herself in the mirror and then dug into her closet for a dark blazer.

  It was almost six. Kate stalled before the video intercom. She lightly touched the doorbell button but did not press it.

  Undoubtedly, she was scared. She did not know what lay in store for her in this unusual contractual relationship. Her mind meditated on the sum she would be paid. She supposed she could try it out and if she was too averse to him or the job, she could withdraw at any time.

  She still didn’t know how he looked. After a couple of hours of search through her computer earlier in the day, all there was were a few social networking links of unidentified Clayton Reids without a thumbnail image. There were no media or paparazzi pictures either. The spokesperson for Reid Enterprises was a beautiful blonde woman called Theresa Moore. It didn’t take much to guess that this was a man who valued his privacy and had no desire to be famous, despite his reported wealth.

  She straightened the blazer on her arm. She had second thoughts on wearing it. It didn’t quite match the dress she wore but it certainly acted as an assurance to protect herself if she got a little uncomfortable at dinner.

  She pulled in a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten. She pressed the doorbell, expecting the worst.

  “Kate?” he said, behind the camera.

  “Yes,” she said. It was the first time he had ever called her by her first name. It felt awkward.

  The door swung open and this ti
me she walked into a bright, elegantly designed living room. It was furnished in an old world style with electric candle chandeliers hanging from its wooden ceiling beams. Its tall arched windows overlooked the Hudson River and the city, with beautiful drapes bordering it. She was correct when she had assumed that it was perhaps designed by some notable interior designer. She loved it immediately.

  “I thought I told you to dress conventionally,” he said.

  She turned, startled briefly. He was a tall, dark haired man, probably in his mid-thirties, with grey, translucent eyes and a tiny cleft in his jaw. Undeniably, he was handsome. Despicable and handsome, she corrected as she swallowed a nervousness creeping into her chest.

  She straightened her spine and answered stiffly. “I did.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know what you call a conventional dress, Ms Ripley, but that is certainly not one from where I come from.”

  She glowered. “Oh and where is that? An upper, rich society with affluent snobs who erroneously believe that the dictionary is meant to keep up with what they define is right? Sorry, haven’t been there.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’re certainly one with words, Kate Ripley. I can give you that. Although, whichever way you see it, that is not what you will be wearing to a dinner with wealthy executives.” He walked with a threatening gait towards her. “As long as you’re my mistress, you will not try to attain any further clients. You are mine and solely mine. Am I understood?”

  Her legs warbled from his closeness and she closed her eyes, feeling she’d lose herself if she kept staring into his. “I can’t see what’s wrong with it,” she said, determinedly.

  She felt his hands wrap tightly at her waist as he drew her close to him. She felt his raucous breath over her face and travel down to her neck. She pushed at his chest in the little space between them.

  “If you had worn this little number last night, Ms Ripley,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear. “I swear you would have begun your employment with me as early as then.”