ARROGANT MASTER

by Winter Renshaw

  “Chanel.” I examine the tags of a pink blazer and shake my head, fighting a smile. “He’s out of his mind. Certifiably insane. Yep.”

  I remove tissue paper from a Gucci box and examine the candy apple red bag that emerges. The hardware is heavy and solid, and the zippers run smooth.

  “Dane,” I whisper, loving the way his name feels when I say it. I wish I could say it more. Calling him Master feels contrived and awkward. Silly.

  I yank out a Fendi belt and slip it around my waist.

  Perfect.

  I am an actress, and this is a role I’m playing. I can be this girl. I can be the girl who wears fancy things and graces his presence like I’m some elegant socialite.

  With an armful of things that cost more than what my father makes in one year, I head over to the closet and carefully unload. A small ledge below a mirror will house the cosmetics he provided.

  I’m not a girl who normally wears much makeup, but I know my way around a makeup kit, especially for special occasions.

  As soon as everything is properly stowed, I fold up the boxes and bags and tuck them all into one another. I assume he’ll want all of this back when he’s done with me.

  I am an actress. This is my part. These are my costumes.

  It’s that simple.

  ***

  My check engine light comes on halfway through my commute home and a burning odor wafts through my air vents. I’m not sure why Waverly got the shiny new Jetta, and I got stuck with the family’s old Chrysler, but I figured this was going to happen one of these days.

  I buzz past a green sign that tells me Whispering Hills is twenty-three miles from here. My palms sweat against the steering wheel as my mind dithers. If I pull over and call my father to get me, he’ll wonder where I got my phone. If I drive with this light on and something goes wrong mechanically, I’m not sure my father will pay to fix or replace my car. Money’s tight at home. I heard him saying so the other night to Mom.

  But without a car, I won’t have a way to get to Salt Lake City, and I’ll lose my position with Dane.

  Wisps of pale smoke escape the front of my hood and graze over my windshield.

  I can’t win. Ever.

  I smack my hazard light buttons and pull over to a nearby rest stop. One nickel, two dimes and a penny are all I see in my cup holder, so I climb out and begin feeling around between seat cushions and under floor mats until I find two more quarters.

  There’s a payphone inside. I’ll use that to call Dad and go from there. I still haven’t quite figured out how to tell him I have a cell phone for work. I’ll get around to it, but I’m not ready yet. If he takes it away, I’m not sure how I’ll explain to Dane that I won’t be reachable 24/7 like he requires.

  Shit.

  My toes pinch as I walk, reminding me that I’m still wearing the Christian Louboutin heels I’d slipped into per Dane’s request earlier. I changed into a little black dress by some designer I couldn’t pronounce and pranced around in these bad boys the rest of the afternoon. Before I left, I changed back into my old outfit but forgot to switch shoes.

  Hopefully, no one at home will notice. I doubt any of them have ever heard of red-bottomed shoes, and I can always say they’re from Target. No one will question me because the truth would seem more preposterous than a lie.

  I slip some coins into the phone and dial my dad’s number.

  “Mark Miller,” he answers halfway through the first ring. For someone so anti-cell phones, he’s got that thing glued to his hand most of the time.

  “Dad, it’s me,” I say.

  “Bellamy?”

  “Yeah, I’m calling you from a pay phone.” I press my forehead against my balled up fist. “My check engine light came on, so I pulled over.”

  Muffled voices come through the other end like my father has covered up the phone and is talking to someone else.

  “I’m here with Cortland, and he says his uncle has a towing business. I’ll send Cortland out to pick you up, and someone will come for the car later tonight.”

  A sick twist of relief and dread swirl in my belly.

  Also, why are they together right now?!

  “Great,” I say. “I’m at the Sierra Valley rest stop, about twenty miles outside of town.”

  “He’s leaving now, sweetie. Sit tight.”

  TEN

  DANE

  “Right this way, Mr. Townsend. He’s been asking about you.”

  I follow a middle-aged nurse in Winnie the Pooh scrubs down a sterile hallway. At least there are no flickering lights or shit-stained carpets. We never would’ve put him in a place like that.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “Last time, he didn’t know who I was.”

  Where the fuck is Beck? Beckham should be here. I shouldn’t be doing this alone.

  “He’s had a few lucid moments today,” she says gently. “He’s on a high dose of morphine right now.”

  She raps on the door to a dark room. It feels much later than six o’clock in here. The drapes are pulled, and the T.V. is on, but there’s no sound. Guess it doesn’t matter how much you shell out for a nursing facility, all the money in the world can’t get rid of that sick, depressing veil that saturates all who dare to enter here.

  “Uncle Leo.” I have a seat in the chair next to his half-elevated bed. His brows twist when he hears my voice, and he turns his face toward me. It takes all the strength that man has just to open his eyes halfway.

  I place my hand over his, careful to avoid his I.V. lines.

  “How are you feeling today?” I ask.

  “Dane.” There’s a dry scratch in his voice, and my name mostly comes out in a puff of air.

  Fuck me. This is hard. I’m calling Beckham and chewing his ass the second I leave here.

  And then I realize he said my name. He remembers me. He’s acknowledging me. It’s the first time in months.

  “Yes, Uncle Leo. That’s right. I’m Dane.”

  “Where ya been?” He sputters. His eyes are wider this time. Brighter than ever. He licks his dry, cracked lips and then curls them into a mischievous smile. I see a little bit of a younger version of him inside there.

  I know he’s teasing, and I force myself to smile. It’s much easier to smile right now than to think about the fact that this seventy-year-old beautiful bastard’s days are numbered.

  “Where’s your brother?” His brows straighten.

  “He was supposed to fly in this afternoon.” I shrug. “I bet he’ll be here tomorrow at the latest. He wants to see you.”

  “Tell him to give his cock a rest for a change.” Uncle Leo laughs, which turns into a coughing fit. He knows damn well about Beckham’s reputation as a ladies’ man, after all he learned from the best. “Man thinks he’s a Goddamn sheik.”

  “Well, he did change his last name to King...”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” an orderly in a white outfit comes in with a paper cup and a glass of water. “It’s time for your meds, Leo.”

  It’s crazy to watch a man I once idolized lying feeble and dying in a small ten by ten room at a hospice center.

  Fuck pancreatic cancer.

  The doctor called us yesterday, told us Uncle Leo doesn’t have more than a week left.

  I wait for the orderly to leave before scooting closer. I’ll be here all damn night. I’m not leaving for anyone or anything. The light in his eyes is flickering, and I’d give anything to hear one of his stories one last time before he goes.

  “Hey, Daney-boy, can you hit that button for me.” His grip loosens from a button connected to his morphine drip. “Give me some of the good stuff, will ya?”

  I press the button for him, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he forgets who I am again.

  ELEVEN

  BELLAMY

  I count thirty-five black cars passing until one slows down and veers off the exit ramp toward the rest stop.

  There he is, my knight in shining armor riding up on his big black steed.

&
nbsp; Actually, it’s more like a miniature pony, since it’s an economy car. He just thinks it’s fancy since it has remote start and a sunroof.

  But I digress.

  I peel myself up off the park bench at the last possible moment and angle my hand over my eyes, squinting into the passenger seat of his car to see who my father sent to tag along with him for supervisory reasons.

  Oh shoot.

  He’s alone.

  There’s no way my father would’ve sent him alone. Does he know what happens when you ride in cars with boys? Does he know what happens when you put your twenty-two-year-old daughter alone with a crazy Cortland McGregor?

  He hops out and rushes up to me, slipping his arms around me like we didn’t just see each other last night. He grabs the flesh of my backside, roughing me up and pulling me into him as he tries to kiss me. I twist my head, letting him have my cheek.

  “What the hell? What’s your problem? Got your panties all twisted just because your car broke down?” Cortland leans in for another kiss.

  Hope he likes the way Dane’s cock tastes.

  I let him kiss me this time because I’m afraid of what he’ll do if I don’t.

  It’s funny how Dane can tie me up, rough me up, and have his way with me, and it doesn’t scare me a bit. But the way Cortland touches me, like he’s entitled to touch me, terrifies me through and through.

  I wonder what Dane would do if I texted him right now?

  “You smell different,” Cortland says.

  That would be the new perfume I got from my soon-to-be lover...

  Five fragrances for all kinds of different occasions, though he did say he enjoyed what I already wear.

  “There are a lot of women in the office,” I say. “Lots of smells. They all mix. You’re probably smelling that.”

  “No, it’s like cologne or something?” He wrinkles his nose and then checks his watch. “Why are you late today?”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t you get off at five? You didn’t call your dad until around six, so you were, like, going to be a half-hour late coming home.”

  “Are you serious right now, Cortland?”

  “Oh, come on. I’m asking for safety reasons.”

  Safety reasons my ass.

  “I like to know where you are, you know, in case something happens.” He places his hand on my back and walks me to the passenger door of his car like he’s suddenly some noble gentleman. “I worry about you, Bellamy. That’s all.”

  More like you worry about losing control over me.

  I wait for him to climb in and start his car up before asking my burning question. “How did you convince my father to let you come by yourself?”

  Cortland lifts an eyebrow. “He trusts me.”

  “All of a sudden he trusts you to be alone with me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He shifts into reverse and backs out. “Told you your father would love me.”

  I fasten my seatbelt and lean against the cool glass to my right. If I could get any further away from him, I would. I’d sooner ride on top of the hood of the car than spend the next several miles sitting next to this asshole.

  His hand flies over, landing on my knee before creeping under my skirt and trailing up my inner thigh. My knees instinctively smash together in defense, but he pulls my leg toward him.

  “Don’t fight it. Don’t act like you’re all prude now. I know better,” he says, his fingers tracing the outside of my panties. “Damn, you’re wet. I knew it!”

  My heart pounds harder and stronger in my chest. I’m convinced he’s two seconds from accusing me of being with another man.

  It’s all going to end. It’ll all be for nothing.

  “I still have it, Bellamy,” he boasts. “I can still get you wetter than sin. I knew you missed me.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Not only is he an asshole, but he’s also impossibly dense. Although I suppose, once again, this would be a situation where the truth would be stranger than fiction. No one I know would believe me if I told them I’m two days in on my new job, and I spent the morning trying on lingerie and exchanging oral sex with my incredibly handsome, amazingly well-endowed, curiously powerful, and obnoxiously arrogant boss.

  Cortland merges into traffic, and I reach for my purse on the floorboard, pretending to fish around. I grab my phone and type off a quick text to Dane.

  I’M WET FOR YOU RIGHT NOW.

  I combat the grin that wants to claim my lips. He’s going to love that text. What man wouldn’t? He should know that even when I’m not with him, he still has the power to liquefy my desire.

  I keep my purse in my lap, hoping that if it vibrates I’ll feel it.

  “If we had a few minutes to spare, I’d pull over and hop in the back with you,” Cortland says. “Old times’ sake.”

  “It’ll be much more special if we just hold off on everything until our wedding night.” Yeah, our wedding that is never going to happen. Not while I have any ounce of fight left in me.

  “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  “I don’t know that you have a choice.” I almost add that he’ll have to take that up with my father, but I don’t want to give him any ideas.

  My phone doesn’t vibrate at all over the next twenty miles. I thought for sure he would love hearing that. After all, he said his goal is to keep me thinking about him sexually all the time, even when he’s not around.

  Cortland pulls into my driveway, and I hate not seeing my car parked out front. I’m trapped now more than ever. And how the hell am I going to get to work in the morning?

  “I need a phone, Dad,” I say as I climb out of the car. Dad is pulling dead flowers from the landscaping out front with Summer. They’re both glazed in a thin coating of dirt and sweat. “I barely had enough money for a payphone, and what if I wouldn’t have been close to a rest stop? Someone could’ve pulled over and kidnapped me.”

  Dramatic always works well with him.

  “Either I need a cell phone or a reliable car,” I add. The either/or thing always worked on my younger brothers and sisters, so I may as well try it with him. You don’t ask yes or no questions, you give two options, and then they end up picking one.

  Dad drags his forearm across his brow, pursing his lips together. “Yeah, okay. You can have a phone. But just while you’re commuting to the city.”

  Was it really just that easy?

  “Uncle James is going to tow the Chrysler to your uncle’s shop,” Cortland says.

  “How am I going to get to work tomorrow?” Burning panic rises in my throat, but I force it out of my voice. They can’t know how important it is that I never miss a single day of work. “Can I borrow Kath’s car?”

  “No, no,” Summer says. “Kath’s doing school drop offs all week, and I’m going to be restocking shelves at the pharmacy.”

  “What about Mom’s car?” I ask.

  Summer scoffs. We both know what that means. Mom doesn’t let anyone drive her car at all, no matter what. And not even Dad argues with her. It’s the only brand new car she’s ever had in her forty-odd years, and the only car Dad’s ever let her hand select. She loves that thing more than she loves us.

  “I can take you,” Cortland offers.

  I look to my dad, hoping against hope he says no. Then again, why would he if he allowed Cortland to come pick me up tonight?

  “How will I get home? See, this is why I need to drive myself.”

  “Bellamy, calm down,” Summer chuckles, walking up to me and hooking her dirt-stained hand on my shoulder. Does she not know I have to wear this to work? “We’ll get this figured out. I know it’s your first week, but geez Louise. Woosah.”

  I hate when she says that, then again, most of her expressions grate on my nerves.

  “Cortland can take you until your car gets fixed,” Dad says, wiping his hands on a rag sticking out of his jeans pocket. His watchful stare darts between our faces as if he’s trying to instill a silent warning. “I’ll send
Waverly or one of your mothers to pick you up.”

  Great. I’m sure Dane finds nothing sexier than a twenty-two-year-old in high heels and on all fours all day long getting picked up by her kid sister.

  “I better head out,” Cortland says. “Told my dad I’d grab some things from the store on the way home. I’ll see you in the morning, Bellamy. What time do you need picked up?”

  My jaw unclenches just enough for me to tell him seven. “And please don’t be late.”

  TWELVE

  DANE

  Where the hell is he?

  I jerk my watch out from under my sleeve and cross my arms as I glance down from my office. A steady stream of morning traffic passes by, none of them stopping outside the building. Knowing my brother, he’s arriving in a chauffeured import because that’s the way they do it in New York. I suppose we each house our own brand of arrogance from our respective posts in the world.

  Last night, I slipped out of the hospice center after Uncle Leo had passed out and saw a text from Bellamy. Any other night I would’ve been rather pleased by such a declaration, but not last night. I’m not quite sure I’m in the mood to play around today either. She’s going to have it pretty easy today as I’m not exactly in a teaching mood.

  I squint against the dirty glass and make a mental note to have housekeeping touch up my windows. This is completely unacceptable, and I want Bellamy to have something clean to cling to when I eventually fuck her against it.

  A black car pulls up to the front of the building, and a leggy blonde climbs out. I recognize her instantly.

  I know what belongs to me when I see it.

  A man climbs out of the passenger side and runs up behind her, reaching for her arm.