He wanted to introduce her to his whips, his floggers. Nipple clamps. Predicament bondage.
When she’d first told him she wasn’t into pain, he had demonstrated that he knew ways to make pain erotic. He clearly enjoyed hurting his lovers. How much, she wondered? What were his limits? What were hers?
"What are you doing?"
Viola’s heart did a somersault and she jerked back from the desk in a manner that must have looked guilty. Stephen came up behind her, unsmiling for once. She hadn’t heard him on the stairs.
"I was watching the sun come up. Your screen was on, so I thought I’d switch it off. To save power."
"It’s still on," he pointed out.
Since it was obvious that she had been reading what was on the screen, she decided to be upfront about it. "I was briefly mesmerized by Bart’s being his usual nasty self. Is this the latest volume of your sadistic hero’s adventures?"
"Yes." Reaching past her, he pressed the screen’s off button. Bart went dark. "I don’t allow anyone to read my books until they’re finished."
"I’m sorry." She felt terrible. Would he think she was a snoop? No one wanted a lover who seized the first opportunity to rifle through the files on their computer. "I really did mean to turn it off. I wasn’t deliberately prying."
"Let’s go back down to the bedroom," he said, his tone far colder than usual. He was angry. He was tense and his lips were tight. Uneasiness shot through her. She had never seen him angry before. It scared her a little. Angry males reminded her of Derek, and Derek was absolutely the last person she wanted to think about now. Or ever.
She ducked away from the arm he tried to drape around her shoulders. She scurried down the narrow winding staircase to the lower level and climbed back into bed, shivering. She couldn’t seem to get the image of Bart slashing his prisoner with a vicious whip out of her head. Why had she permitted herself to read it?
Stephen joined her in bed, but he seemed remote. He didn’t touch her. "I’m really sorry," she said again. "You’re mad, aren’t you?"
There was a longer than usual interval before he answered, but when he did speak his voice was mercifully wry. "I’m getting over it. Sorry. I had a bit of a Melanie flashback. She used to sneak into my office and read my email. It really pissed me off."
"She’s the ex you were telling me about?"
"Yep. She knew my stuff was off limits, but she did it anyway. She loved to provoke me. I think she wanted to be caught because she got off on the punishment. It took me awhile to catch on."
"You used to punish her?"
"Sure," he said, sounding a bit abstract, as if still in the past. Then his eyes focused again on her and he added, "But when I figured out why she was being so brazen, I stopped. It was like the old joke—what does the sadist do to the masochist? Nothing."
Viola laughed, but she felt uneasy again.
"Are you okay?" he asked a few moments later. "I’m sorry I snapped at you."
"No, it was my bad. I went up there to watch the sunrise, which was beautiful, by the way. I had a Green attack and tried to turn off your monitor, and there was Bart. Don’t worry, I won’t do it again. I’m not usually a privacy invader, honestly."
"It’s just that I write a lot of drafts. Scenes are never finished until, well, they’re finished. I don’t like anyone seeing the unpolished early attempts. It’s embarrassing."
"Well, don’t worry." She tried to make light of it. "I only write nasty reviews of thoroughly complete and well-polished novels."
He pulled her into his arms. "I’m not Bart, you know. You do know that, right?"
"Sure," she said. "I know that."
Chapter 14
When they dragged themselves out of bed later in the morning, they had a light breakfast and went out together to walk the dog. When they got back with Rusty, Viola took a long shower. When she finally returned to the living room, she discovered Stephen sitting on the sofa in his living room typing furiously on his laptop. Not more torture, she hoped. "Are you writing?"
"Yep." He looked up with a smile. "Got another idea. You're inspiring me."
"Well, don't let me interrupt. Do you want to work for a couple of hours? I can amuse myself."
He lifted his eyebrows. "How would you do that?"
"I thought I might take a ride over to the other side of the Cape and stop in at my dad's house, since I'm so close."
Stephen abruptly shut the cover of his laptop. She noted that frown between his eyes as he said, "May I remind you that you're here with me this weekend. You didn't come down to the Cape to visit your father."
He was touchy about her father. "Don't worry, he's not even there. It's my cat I want to visit. Dad's gone fly fishing in Montana for a week. He's got a cat sitter taking care of Leta—that's my cat—but she only stops by once a day, and Leta must be lonely. I feel bad about her being all alone when I'm near enough to visit and cheer her up a bit."
Stephen appeared to relax again. "Okay, I get that. I have a dog sitter come in for Rusty when I'm away for the weekend, too, and he's not wild about that, either. I figure it's better than putting him in a kennel, though. But why is your cat living at your father's place?"
"Because the owner of house I'm renting in Rolling Meadows refused to allow me to have any pets. You've seen how immaculate the place is, so I guess I understand, but I think I'd have rented someplace else that did allow me to have Leta with me if the whole thing hadn't been so last minute."
"So Percy offered to take care of your cat for you?"
"Well, she's sorta become his cat, too, since I was living with him for a while after I left my husband." It had been one of the many things her father had taken care of for her after she had fled from Derek. She had never wanted to see him again, not for any reason. It had been Percy who had gone to their house and packed up her things, rescuing her cat from Derek, who had barely tolerated Leta anyhow.
"You mean you moved in with your father after your marriage broke up? You were living down here, on the Cape?"
"For a while, yes," she said, feeling defensive.
"Whoa. Too bad we didn't encounter each other then—it would have been a lot shorter drive for us."
"I thought you said you'd moved here less than a year ago."
"Last May, yes."
"I left in August for the college, so there wasn't much overlap."
"Still. It's strange, isn't it? We could have run into one another at the supermarket or the pharmacy."
Remembering the state she had been in last summer, she was glad she hadn't run into Stephen then. Unpleasant memories flooded her and she started feeling anxious. Stop that, she ordered herself. It's in the past. Keep it there.
"Do you know how to get to your father's place from here?" he asked. "I can pull up a map if you want."
"Once I get out to the main road, I'll be fine."
She poured herself another cup of coffee before going, though, and by the time she was ready to leave, Stephen had wound down. He set aside his computer. "Come to think of it, I need a few things from the supermarket. I'll come with you. I can drop you off at your Dad's place for an hour or so and go do some errands, then pick you up when you're done."
"Okay. But," she nodded to his computer, "Are you sure? What about the great idea that you don't want to forget?"
"I've got it all down. For the last few minutes I've been staring at a blank screen anyway."
"Cool."
* * *
After picking up some groceries for the dinner he was planning to cook for Viola tonight, Stephen approached the private road that led down to the water where Percy's house was. He had dropped her off there over an hour ago. Long enough for the cat to enjoy her company. He wanted her back now. Actually, he wanted her bound to the X-frame in his dungeon, but she didn't even know the dungeon existed. He wasn't sure whether to spring that surprise on her this weekend or wait until he had eased her more gradually into his favorite sexual activities.
His ph
one chimed, indicating an incoming text. Probably Viola telling him she was ready. He left the phone in his pocket and made the turn. A couple of minutes later he pulled into the driveway of Percy's place.
He noticed that there was another car parked there, a silver SUV. That was odd. Who else would be here while Percy was away in Montana? Then he remembered that Viola's mention of a cat-sitter who stopped by every day.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the message. Viola had texted one line. "Don't get out of your car." He stared at the text, puzzled. An unpleasant feeling came over him. He looked more closely at the silver SUV. It boasted a vanity license plate that read, "H Fielding."
Harry Fielding was hero of Percy Quentin's series of mystery novels.
Percy was not in Montana. He was here.
The surge of anger he felt was surprising. This was his time with Viola, dammit. There had been no silver SUV here when he'd dropped her off. Had the bastard returned early from his fishing trip? Was he going to try to get between them again?
Fuck.
He was trying to decide how to deal with this when the screen door opened and Viola came out, her glorious red hair blowing in the breeze coming in from the ocean. A man stepped through the doorway behind her, holding the door open and speaking to her as she walked quickly across the porch in the direction of the driveway. She looked back over her shoulder to respond to him.
Stephen got out of his car.
* * *
Viola's pulse shot up when she saw Stephen's car door open and his long, lanky body emerge from within. He must have recognized her father's car. She'd sent the text in hopes of averting a confrontation, but she ought to have known Stephen wouldn't let this moment pass.
Even though she was always glad to see her father, she had been dismayed when he had pulled into the driveway and started hauling his travel pack and his fishing gear out of his car. He'd dropped it all on the porch to envelop her in a huge hug when she'd opened the door, crying, "Dad! I thought you weren't returning until Tuesday?"
Percy Quentin was a large, bear-like man, tall and muscular, with thick reddish hair and a greying beard. An outdoorsman who loved quail hunting and fly fishing, he had skin that was permanently sun-tanned. His voice was hearty and he had a loud, booming laugh. But his affability could be deceptive; when angry or irritated, he used his considerable breadth of knowledge and wit to slice his adversaries down to size.
"My darling girl, what a nice surprise! We packed up and came home early because one of Ron's reckless sons got himself injured in a car crash. The kid's okay—just a bit banged up—but Ron insisted on flying home, and the rest of us wanted to show our support. The fishing was lousy, anyway. I swear those Big Horn trout get smarter every year."
Ron was one of his fishing buddies. They made the trip to the Big Horn River in Montana at least once a year, along with several other trips to fly fishing havens whenever they got the chance.
Viola explained that she'd stopped by to see Leta, whom Percy also took into his arms and hugged as soon as the cat brushed up against his calves.
"I have a cat-sitter, didn't I tell you? Surely you didn't drive all the way down here thinking she'd been left alone? I wouldn't do that to her, poor kitty."
"No, I was on the Cape anyway, visiting a friend."
Percy looked interested. "Really? Who's your friend?"
There was no way she was going to tell him she was staying with Stephen. It was far too early in what might not turn out to be a real relationship. She didn't want to explain, and she wasn't yet ready to confront him about the means he had used to separate them a decade ago. So she said, vaguely, "Just an old friend whom I haven't seen for years."
"I didn't know you had a friend who lived on the Cape. Why didn't you guys get together last summer?"
Ouch. She wasn't a very good liar. She shrugged, deciding not to add any further dubious claims, and wondering how she could escape quickly enough to walk down to the end of the private road and intercept Stephen before he drove into the driveway. Dammit! She really didn't want her father and Stephen, two alpha males who each had more than their fair share of testosterone, to face off against one another because of her.
"Can you stay for supper? I've had nothing to eat all day but airplane food, so I'm starved. Not sure what's in the fridge, but we could hit a restaurant. Your friend is welcome to come along." He added, as if he'd just realized it, "Where's your car? It wasn't in the driveway."
"My friend dropped me off and will be back soon to get me. And no, sorry, but we already have plans for this evening."
"Well, that's a damn shame. I'd like to meet this mysterious friend of yours." His blue eyes were twinkling, and Viola knew he'd guessed the "friend" was a man she was dating. He ought to be glad about that, at least. He'd been telling her she ought to "get back out there and enjoy yourself while you're still young."
She made an excuse to go to the bathroom, so she could send Stephen a text without being obvious about it. She couldn't decide what to tell him—it would all take too long to explain—so she simply wrote, "Don't get out of your car."
But she ought to have known that he would not just sit there, effacing himself, when he saw her with her father on the porch.
Stephen closed his car door and ambled toward them. "Ready to leave, babe?" he called, his voice liquid with what sounded to her like blatant sexual possessiveness. In an entirely different tone, he added, "Hello, Percy."
Viola didn't have to turn to feel the force of her father's surprise and shock. "Silkwood," he snapped. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I should have thought that was obvious."
It seemed to take Percy a couple of seconds. "This is your so-called friend?" he barked at Viola. His heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder as if to prevent her leaving with Stephen.
Annoyed with both of them, she twisted around to face her father. "I didn't expect to do this now, but yes, I'm seeing Stephen. I've just learned the part you played in separating us nine years ago, and I'm pretty pissed about it, Dad."
"Nine years ago you were a child! That bastard violated my trust and molested you right under my nose. He's damn lucky I didn't have him arrested."
Stephen started to speak, but she beat him to it. "You're wrong, Dad. Nine years ago I was starting college. I was eighteen, something you lied to him about. Stephen and I were good friends who became closer, until you spied on us and threatened him. Now we've discovered each other again, and that's all the explanation you're going to get. I love you, Dad, but I won't have you interfering in my personal life."
"Bravo," said Stephen. He didn't say it loudly or aggressively, but it didn't help the situation. "Let's go, Viola."
"No interfering?" Percy said loudly. "You're singing a different tune now than you were last summer. Where would you be now if I hadn't helped you get rid of that vicious dog of a husband?"
"I'm grateful, you know I am," she cut in before Percy could expound on the details. "But I'm moving on now, as you've urged me to do many times." She had pulled free of him and was moving down the porch steps toward Stephen, who was now standing on the flagstone front walk. Her father descended the steps after her.
"Not with him, dammit! How long has this been going on? Do you actually know anything about him? My dear girl, he's the last man you would see if you knew some of the things he's been up to over the years. The world we live in—the writers' world—is a small one, and there are stories about him—" He stopped abruptly. Even he didn't seem to have the cojones to continue.
"It's a gossipy world we live in," Stephen said, sounding amused, "but I didn't realize it was that gossipy. The tales must have been colorful indeed. I've heard one or two about you, too, Percy, if we're going to sink to that level."
Her father ignored him, appealing to Viola, catching at her hand. He looked truly worried, and she could guess why. He knew what state she had been in last summer after Derek had beaten her. Stephen had no clue.
> "It's okay," she reassured her father. "Stephen and I were friends before we were lovers, remember. I do know him. There's nothing to worry about."
She had reached Stephen now. Unfortunately, there were only a couple of yards between the two men, who were nearly of a height. They were facing off in the unconsciously aggressive stance that men adopt when they are barely suppressing the urge to slug each other.
"Viola," Percy said in a shaking voice, "Perhaps you don't realize that this man and I have been adversaries for years. I've been hoping you'd find someone you could be happy with, but never did I imagine it would be him."
"Really, Dad," she said, exasperated, "It's only our second date."
'Then you probably have no idea what he's capable of!"
"Take it easy, Quentin," said Stephen. "She knows everything she needs to know. Get in the car, Viola."
"If you do anything to harm my girl, I'll kill you," Percy said.
"I would never do anything to harm her." He spoke coldly, but Viola could tell he was seriously pissed off. "You have my word on that."
He turned his back on Percy and guided Viola to his car. He helped her into the passenger seat and closed her door, gentlemanly as always. When he got in on his side, he gave her a cheery, reassuring smile. She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to calm down.
They backed out of the driveway, leaving Percy standing there, staring after them, looking more helpless than Viola could ever remember seeing him.
Chapter 15
"So is there anybody among your acquaintances who doesn't know about your sexual preferences?"
Stephen grimaced, trying to keep his own temper while Viola was losing hers. She was pacing his living room, looking anxious and agitated in a manner that did not resonate at all with his memories of the young Viola. Her phone had rung once, while they'd been driving back from her father's; she had taken one look at the caller ID and shut off the device without answering. Stephen wondered if the next thing Percy was going to do would be leap into his SUV and drive over with his shotgun.
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