Serving HIM Vol. 6

by M. S. Parker

  But Olympus was a lot more than that. A lot more.

  Casually, I reached for one of the bagels. I needed to do something. As I smeared cream cheese across it, I asked, “What should I wear?”

  “That’s up to you.” He pushed back from the table. “Some people wear club clothes. Others are comfortable in jeans.”

  I frowned. “I doubt I’d be comfortable in either. So…it’s basically whatever works for me, huh?”

  “Yes.” He came around to stand behind me, stroked a hand down my hair. He kissed my shoulder and then, quick as that, he was gone.

  ***

  There were times when having an expanded bank account came in handy. Even with the extra money, for the most part, I'd stuck to the same sort of clothing styles I’d always worn, even if I did scale it up a little bit now and then. That didn’t, however, include the business attire I had to wear for work. That was a different thing entirely and I had to accept that old adage that clothes made the man. Or, in my case, the woman.

  But this wasn’t a business thing. This was a me thing.

  And I wasn't going to make it about labels. I wanted it to be about style, and for me, that meant one-of-a kind designs. I didn’t really have the finances that allowed for shopping like this on a regular basis, but I did have enough to indulge for special occasions and if a trip to Olympus didn't qualify, then what did?

  I rushed through everything I needed to do, getting it all done by one. I’d skipped lunch and had one of Dominic's drivers meet me at the door. I used them because Dominic wanted me to, but I refused to think of them as anything other than Dominic's drivers.

  As I walked out, I was ready, credit card in hand and determined to find something that would absolutely blow Dominic’s mind. I wanted to put a crack in his cool public demeanor. More than that though, I wanted to make him think about nothing but me for the night, wanted to make it so that the first thing he thought of when he needed release was me and not that damn club. And I wanted him to stop worrying about the investigation and what Kowalski might unearth, and what his mother had told him and all the ugliness we were going to find.

  I knew we would find it too. Whenever I thought about it, my gut twisted with anxiety.

  But tonight wasn’t about that.

  Tonight was just for us.

  “Here you go, Miss Aleena.”

  I glanced out the window as Vincent came to a stop. He was Dominic's secondary driver, trading off with Maxwell, the driver who'd been with Dominic since childhood. I liked both men equally, though I'd always gotten the impression that Maxwell was a bit overprotective of Dominic. I was fine with that though. As much as he took care of everyone else, Dominic needed someone to look out for him.

  Biting my lip, I glanced up toward the rearview mirror to see Vincent smiling at me. He was younger than Maxwell, but still a good decade older than Dominic.

  “Ah…are you sure they aren’t going to throw me out?”

  He chuckled, his eyes shining and, a moment later, he was opening the door.

  “You’re Mr. Snow’s lady. That’s all you need to remember,” he said, smiling at me. Then he gestured to the doors. “I called ahead. Spoke with the owner. She’s already expecting you.”

  Mr. Snow’s lady.

  The words made me smile, blush. They also managed to steel my spine and I drew my shoulders back as I strode toward the doors. We were in an upscale area of Manhattan. Even the traffic seemed muted there and before I was within a couple feet of the door, someone was already rushing to open the door for me.

  Within the first five minutes, I had a good idea how Cinderella must have felt when her fairy godmother showed up.

  I had people rushing around me, bringing out dresses that ranged from the lewd to the lovely. I wanted something in between and while I had a hard time articulating that, the saleslady—a sweet-faced woman by the name of Jeanette—had no such problem. She stood there as I went through one dress after another, tapping her candy apple red lips and then smiled, waving everybody away.

  “I saw the two of you,” she said, her accent clearly French. “You and Dominic Snow at a party for his match-making business. You are…” She pursed her lips as she seemed to struggle for the word. “Hmmm. You are proper.”

  I frowned.

  She laughed and waved a hand. “I may not have the good words, but you will see. You wait here.”

  She disappeared into the back of her store and emerged nearly twenty minutes later with two pieces of clothing in her hands. One was a black and white striped skirt, which I was ready to veto straightaway. The other was a simple, black top, strappy things falling from the top. No way. I'd look like a damned clown.

  She saw the look on my face and waved aside the protests forming on my lips. “Hush!” Her brows lowered over her eyes as I opened my mouth again. “I say, hush! I know clothes.”

  I clamped my lips shut and hushed.

  Thirty minutes later, I had to admit it. Jeanette knew clothes.

  The skirt was the tightest thing I’d ever worn. She called it a hobble skirt. The black and white stripes that I’d feared would make me look whalish actually accented my curves, from my waist to my hips on down to my knees and my legs looked like they went on for miles. She’d given me a nude and black lace body brief. It was open-ended, meaning that under it, my crotch was completely bare, but it smoothed and sleeked and whittled me down in all the right places, so I wasn't about to complain.

  The thought of Dominic having easy access to my pussy made my entire body flush. The blouse, if I could call it that, was black. It fit close and went up over my neck and shoulders in a series of straps and lines.

  It looked like a cage. An elegant cage, but one nonetheless. Appropriate, I thought. I stood there for almost a full minute, staring at my reflection. The final result was rather startling. And I hadn't even done my hair or make-up.

  “You need shoes,” Jeanette announced.

  “Hmmm,” I said. It could have been agreement or disagreement or anything in between.

  She laughed and came between me and the mirror. To my surprise, she pressed a smacking kiss to my right cheek then my left. “Shoes!” she said again, her voice firm. “An ensemble as ravishing as this needs the right shoes, non?”

  I smiled. “Right.”

  She nodded. “Just so.”

  She snapped her fingers to the two women waiting behind me and fired off something in a spate of French so rapid, I couldn’t possibly follow. They hustled me into the dressing room and hustled me out of the clothes, then they hustled out of the room with the clothes.

  I grabbed the clothes I'd worn to work and quickly pulled them on, feeling strangely vulnerable being completely naked even though I was in a dressing room. As I adjusted my blouse, I sagged down onto the padded, plush chair and tried to think.

  Well. I had a sexy outfit. That had been easier than I'd thought. The shoes couldn’t be worse, right?

  ***

  I'd been so fucking wrong.

  Almost a half hour had passed and I was on the receiving end of the harsh, stony stare of Penelope Rittenour.

  She didn’t bodily bar the entrance of the posh shoes store where Jeanette had sent me, but she might as well have.

  “They sell shoes that would suit your needs down on 5th Avenue. Saks. Bloomingdales.” She paused, then laughed, the shrill, twittering sound grating on my nerves. “I realize you’re paid well, but I doubt someone like you can afford this establishment.”

  I clenched a hand into a fist and told myself that an arrest for assault wouldn't be a good thing.

  “Please excuse me,” I said, moving to walk around her.

  She didn’t try to stop me, but she wasn’t done yet either. She came after me, her steps lazy, her voice apathetic. She wasn’t even talking to me now, really. She directed her words to the man she’d had carrying her bags. “Rupert, make sure you remember to get in touch with my assistant. I may have to find other arrangements,” she said. “If they
just let anybody shop here, I need to look elsewhere.”

  A shopkeeper came hurrying over and I automatically hunched my shoulders. The woman looked between us, from me to Penelope, giving me a once-over that stripped my confidence. When she rushed to Penelope’s side, I gauged the distance between me and the door. It would be pointless to stick around.

  “Ms. Rittenour, is there anything I can do for you?” The woman had one of those simpering voices I despised.

  Penelope sniffed. “I doubt it. It seems you let just anybody in nowadays, Elinor. I doubt I can continue to give you my patron—”

  Something inside me snapped. “Oh, shut up!” I shouted.

  Her eyes went wide and so did Elinor’s. I knew I was about to make a scene, but my blood was boiling. I was tired of her.

  “Are you really going to do this?” I demanded, sketching a line between me and her, feeling humiliated and out of place which I knew was exactly what Penelope had planned. I let it feed my anger. “Any time you see me, are you going to make sure everybody knows that I don’t belong? Are you that pissed that Dominic chose me over you?”

  “Chose?” She started to laugh. “As if he would ever—”

  “But he did.” I took a step toward her. “Dominic Snow would rather be with me, some nobody from Iowa, than with you and it pisses you off.”

  Elinor gave a soft gasp.

  Penelope shot her a desperate look. “Are you going to let this woman speak to me this way?”

  Before Elinor could answer, Vincent appeared at my side. I didn't know how long he’d been there. It could have been for five seconds or five minutes, but he was there now and that was what mattered.

  “Ms. Davison.” His voice was professional, as always.

  I cleared my throat and fought the urge to dash the back of my hand under my nose. I wanted to cry and I wanted to scream and I wanted to hit something. But I forced myself to look at him with a placid face. “Yes, Vincent?”

  He inclined his head. “Mr. Snow wanted me to escort you to Delacroix for more...superior service. They’re expecting you. It seems they let just anyone into this establishment.”

  I flicked a look at Penelope and I found myself smiling. It wasn’t a pleasant smile though. Harsh and brittle around the edges, sharp enough to cut. Inclining my head, I looked over at Vincent. “We should go then. There are only a few more hours before he gets home.”

  ***

  I had Cinderella’s slightly naughty shoes and her slightly naughty dress, but instead of getting myself ready for my date tonight, I was staring outside.

  It had started to rain on the way home and the melancholy landscape suited my mood.

  Penelope had glowered at me the entire way out of the store and I could feel her dismissive sneer even now.

  It had taken me a while to get it, but now I understood.

  She didn’t want Dominic. She didn’t even care about him. All she wanted was his name, and I knew that if she knew some of the things tied to his name, she’d probably be mortified, but none of that mattered to her. She was the kind of woman who was used to getting what she wanted and she hated me because I had gotten it instead.

  Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and rested my forehead against the window.

  Sometimes, I wished I’d never left Iowa. Life had been easier there. Emptier, but easier. Maybe I hadn’t fit in and some of the people there were as small-minded as Penelope, but at least they were used to me. No one made a scene every time I walked into a store.

  I was so tired of it. I tried to find the excitement from earlier, but it was just gone.

  Somewhere off in the apartment, I heard the front door open, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t find the energy to shove away from the glass or turn toward the door. I just wanted to stand there and do nothing. Think nothing. Be nothing. It was just easier that way. It always had been.

  Chapter 7

  Dominic

  I rode up the elevator in a state of anticipation.

  I hadn't been able to wait and had left the office an hour earlier than usual. I'd called Francisco and had been assured that dinner would still be ready when I arrived. Aleena and I would be able to take our time before heading to Olympus. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of taking her into the club. From the first moment I'd met her, I'd wanted her there with me. Now it was going to happen and I was equal parts terrified and excited. I didn't think I'd be able to bear it if it freaked her out.

  At least she seemed like she was looking forward to going. Vincent had contacted me earlier and asked me where Aleena could find the best shoes, so I gathered she'd gone shopping. I was looking forward to seeing what she’d found. She had eclectic, but impeccable taste and more often than not, no matter what she was wearing, I wanted to peel her clothing away and fuck her senseless.

  I went inside, desire burning, and then I stopped short.

  Francisco met my eyes grimly and gave a pointed look toward Aleena’s room.

  Dinner was laid out, as I’d requested, but Aleena wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have thought much about that normally, assuming she was doing something until I got home, but the look on his face was telling.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked quietly.

  Francisco looked down, his eyes going straight to his highly polished black boots. “Perhaps it would be better if you talked to her, Mr. Snow.”

  “I’m talking to you,” I said.

  Francisco blew out a rough breath and then he nodded, shoving away from the counter. He moved into the kitchen and I followed, watching as he quickly and expertly put together a salad. “She was out shopping,” he said, his words as economical as his motions. “She visited several stores, bought several items. Then she ran into somebody you know.” His gaze was thin and sharp. “Penelope Rittenour.”

  My heart plummeted. What had that bitch done? Slowly, I turned my head and followed the path of the stairs, upward toward where Aleena’s rooms were.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Francisco said quietly. He shook his head at my unasked question. “She won’t say. But Vincent…” He sighed and then continued, “He said that...words were exchanged.”

  Penelope Rittenour was going to pay for whatever she'd done to Aleena. But not now. Aleena needed me.

  I gave a short nod and put my briefcase down before glancing at the table. “Will the meal hold?”

  “I can put it away.” He hesitated. “Or shall I wait?”

  I almost said yes, that I wouldn't be long, but I had a feeling Aleena would need more than just an encouraging word and what she needed was more important than anything else. “Go ahead and put things away, then go home. We'll reheat if we have to.”

  The fact that he didn't protest my reheating the food told me more than anything how upset Aleena must have been.

  A few short minutes later, I stood outside her door and knocked. She didn't answer right away, so I knocked again.

  Finally, her voice came, low and rough. “Just a minute.”

  Like hell. I opened the door and went inside.

  She stopped in the middle of the floor, her mouth twisting in a scowl as she glared at me. “Just a minute means I’m not ready,” she pointed out as she dropped her gaze.

  “I know.” I moved toward her, not taking my eyes off of her. When I was close enough, I twisted my hand in her soft hair, tugging until she was staring up at me. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  The lie didn’t show in her eyes, but I heard it, felt it. Dipping my head, I pressed my mouth to her lips. I kissed her softly, then pulled back just enough for me to speak. “What happened?” I asked again as I released her hair.

  She sighed and shifted away, tucking her head into the crook of my neck. “It’s nothing, Dominic. Stupid.”

  “Tell me anyway.” I curved my arms around her and waited. Patience for something like this wasn't one of my strong points, but I would do whatever she needed, be what she needed.

  She clung to me, hard and
tight for another moment and then pulled away. Reluctantly, I let her go. A part of me wanted to order her to let me hold her, but I knew that wasn't the right way to handle this.

  Her voice was flat. “I went shopping.” She gave me a quick and brittle smile over her shoulder. “I wanted to knock you dead, you know?”

  “You do that always.”

  The smooth gold of her cheeks flushed and I was happy to see a bit of happiness flash across her eyes.

  “Anyway...” She fussed with her necklace. She rarely did it anymore, but when she was nervous or upset, those slim fingers would still sometimes seek out that delicate chain, as if asking for comfort from the grandmother who'd given it to her. “I’d found a dress—well, an outfit. A blouse and a skirt.”

  She lapsed back into silence, fingers moving back and forth across her necklace.

  My curiosity got the best of me. “Can I see it?”

  She frowned, then shrugged. “Okay.” The word was devoid of emotion.

  I followed her from her living room into her bedroom and saw the outfit laid on the bed. With one glance, I could see her in it. And see me taking her out of it.

  “It looks a lot better on…” She ran her hand over the skirt, then picked it up, clutching it to her as she turned toward me. Several different emotions ran across her face. “I needed shoes. Vincent took me to a place that had been recommended by the shop owner. Penelope was in there and, of course, she started on me. I don’t…”

  Her hands tightened on the skirt and I waited to hear what that bitch had said to upset Aleena so badly. When Aleena’s soft green eyes flew to mine, I didn't see hurt. Instead, the anger there burned through me.

  “She doesn’t even love you, dammit. She doesn’t love you, but she hates that I have you and she doesn’t. She could never make you happy, wouldn’t even want to try.”

  Shock rarely stunned me into silence, but I found myself struggling for the words as I realized why she was so angry. I stared at her. This woman just might stun the hell out of me. Hell with that. She already had.

  Aleena continued, eyes still flashing, “She pissed me off. Made a bunch of noise about how the store was going downhill if people like me were allowed in there.” She picked up the blouse and laughed, the sound harsh. “I told her to shut up and you should've seen her face.”