ARROGANT MASTER

by Winter Renshaw

  A delirious smile claims her ruby mouth and her hands reach for my belt buckle.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I push myself out of her reach.

  “Making it up to you, Master,” she says without pause. Her hands linger in the air, mid-grip, and the shine in her eyes is intense.

  “No.”

  Bellamy’s brows raise, a silent question mark, and I rise up and step away, straightening my belt. She has another thing coming if she thinks I can be bought off with some mind-altering mouth fucking on a Monday morning. I’m not that easy.

  “Get up…no,” I seethe. “Stay there. On your knees.”

  Her palms rest flat on her thighs, and her spine curls to match her slumped shoulders.

  “You’ll stare at the ground while I talk to you, and listen closely because I’m only going to say this one time.”

  “Wait.”

  She’s got a lot of fucking nerve this morning.

  “Are you asking for permission to speak?” I refuse to call her “Angel” today. She doesn’t deserve the honor, and there’s nothing angelic about a filthy con-artist.

  “I just want to explain.” She glances up at me, and for a millisecond, I consider it. “Please? Can I explain?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Her jaw unhinges. “But you don’t understand–”

  “You’re fired, Bellamy. Take your personal belongings and leave the building. You have thirty minutes, and I strongly advise you not to make a scene.”

  I flatten my black tie and head to the window, turning my back to her in the figurative and literal sense.

  “You’re firing me because I couldn’t make it to a date with you.” Her voice breaks. “A date you sprung on me at the last minute, after I’d only been your employee for a handful of days. Do you realize how insane your expectations are? Cut me some slack. I mean, I blew you not once, but twice. I pranced around here in some bustier with my breasts hanging out, and I let you finger me in some fancy restaurant. I wear what you tell me to wear. I do what you tell me to do, and now I’m fired because I had absolutely no way of getting to you Saturday night? Do you even know how badly I wanted to be there?”

  I turn to face her though I won’t look at her yet. She’s standing tall now, and the strain that accompanies her words tells me she’s seconds from a melt down.

  “No, of course you don’t know,” she continues. “Because you don’t let me talk. You don’t let me say anything unless you give me permission. I guess because I’m a woman, my opinions don’t mean anything to you. I’m just some holes to fill and another way for you to feel like you’re the king of the world because apparently it’s not enough to run a multi-million dollar company and look the way you do and have the world at your fingertips.”

  Correction. Multi-billion dollar company...

  “Your opinions are important, Bellamy.”

  “Then why don’t you act like it?”

  “I was afraid this was going to happen.” I turn to face the window again, resting my hands against the ledge and hanging my head. If it weren’t so fucking early in the morning, I’d pour myself three fingers of Macallan and pass out on the sofa the rest of the day. It’s been a long week, an even longer weekend, and a doubly as long Monday morning already.

  “What?”

  “I made my expectations to you perfectly clear. Did I not?”

  “I guess.”

  “I told you, you’re my release. This is purely a professional relationship. No feelings. No complications.” My gaze narrows at the gray cityscape on this rainy April morning. Droplets bead against the window and condensation fogs up the glass. “I spent the better part of last week training you, breaking you in. You were doing so well, too.”

  “You’re overreacting, Dane.”

  “Oh, but I’m not.”

  If she only knew where I was coming from…

  But she’ll never know. My past is sealed. Locked in a vault and drowned in the bottom of the Pacific where it belongs.

  “I wanted to be with you Saturday night.” Her voice is closer now. I shudder when her palm presses against my shoulder. How dare she touch me without asking. “I had my dress ready to go. I knew how I was going to do my hair.”

  Her fingertips drag down my back before abandoning me. I turn to face her; only I find she’s invading my space like she’s my equal.

  “I don’t know why either,” she says, her delicate fingers twisting the gold chain of the Cartier necklace around her neck. “I don’t like to be tied up. It’s not particularly enjoyable to have my mouth pounded until I’m gagging. And I certainly don’t appreciate having to wear some kind of collar around my neck like I’m your pet.”

  That’s because it’s what you are.

  “But I find myself thinking about you all the time. And to be honest, I don’t know why.” She yanks the chain from her neck in one fluid movement, and it crumbles into her hand. “You’re arrogant. You’re rude and demanding. You’re ridiculously pretentious, lacking an ounce of humility, and yet I still find myself desperately seeking your constant approval.”

  She hands me the tangled chain, her soft skin brushing mine for the last time.

  “And besides all that, I can’t stop thinking about the way your cock would feel inside me. Mission accomplished, Dane. You got exactly what you wanted.”

  I try not to chuckle when she says that word. Cock. She enunciates every letter like it’s a brand new word in her pristine vocabulary. A foreign word.

  “That’s how it works. Congratulations.” I smirk. “You figured it out in a fraction of the time it takes the others.”

  “I don’t even know why I like you.” A palm flies toward my face before clenching into a tight fist. “And when I say that I like you, I don’t mean it romantically. I know you’re terrified of that word. I mean, like I think underneath this outrageous façade of yours, I’m pretty sure there’s a halfway decent human being in there. I’ve caught glimpses of him here and there, but I’ve yet to meet him because I’m pretty sure you dominate him too. He’s probably terrified to make an appearance because of you.”

  “Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” I stifle a laugh as her narrowed gaze attempts to pin me to the window. “You’re implying there are two sides to me, and that I bully my nice side into hiding. Listen to yourself, Bellamy, but I’m done. I’ve heard all I need to hear. I’ve allowed you to say your peace, and now you need to go.”

  With her chest jutting out and her chin held high, she says, “Fine. I’ll go.”

  That’s all?

  For reasons inexplicable, I’m almost disappointed that she’s lowering her dukes and ending her fight. I quite liked her feisty side because while she was spewing her craziness, I was having my way with her in my head. Pinning her to the wall, ripping her dress off, pushing my fingers as deep inside of her as they would go, and fucking her until she’s a crumpled heap on the floor begging for one more round.

  It was an entertaining way to bide the time.

  “Before you go,” I say, stopping her in her tracks. “Just tell me why.”

  Jenessa’s reason at least made sense though it didn’t make it excusable.

  “Why what?”

  “Why you would sub for me when you belong to another man?”

  Her jaw falls, but she picks it up quickly. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  Bellamy’s words are shortened with emphasis on each syllable.

  “You’re lying.”

  Her bottom lip quivers. “I don’t belong to anyone but you.”

  “Yes, Bellamy. I heard you the first time.”

  A thin mist clouds her clear eyes. “You think I ditched you on Saturday to be with another man?”

  “In my experience, Bellamy, and I have a world of it,” I say, “the only reason a submissive would ever disobey her Dom is if she had another.”

  Her head shakes with a fervor, ruffling her blonde strands until they’re splayed across her pale shou
lders. Words reside behind her pinched lips, but I’m not finished speaking to her yet.

  “But in your case, you’re extremely green, so I have no reason to think you have another Dom, but I’ve every reason to believe you have another man.” I check my watch and hum faintly. “If I had to guess, and I’m just throwing out a guess here, I’d say it was that fellow who drove you to work the other morning.”

  “It’s not like that.” Her hand rubs against her chest like she’s physically pained by this accusation. “If you took two seconds to try and get to know me, you’d know about my situation at home.”

  “I’m well aware of your situation at home.” I can’t resist. Opportunity knocked, and I had to answer.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your family,” I say. “You’re AUB.”

  She hesitates, her lips pressing into a fine line as her brows scrunch. “How’d you know?”

  I refuse to explain that we live in the digital age, where anything about anyone can be discovered after a few clicks and the exchanging of money between hands.

  “Obviously it’s not an issue,” I state. “Despite the fact that I am vehemently against the idea of polygamous relationships, and I won’t even get into the religious aspect of it, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  “Oh?”

  “I respect that it’s not something that would’ve come up in conversation,” I say. “I’m not holding that against you, for the record.”

  I give myself a silent pat-on-the-back for saving my lawyer some trouble with that one. Wrongful termination suits based on religious beliefs can be a goldmine for the accusing party.

  “For the record, I don’t believe in polygamy either,” she says, her eyes darting into mine. We hold our gazes for a second beyond what feels natural to me. “I’m trying to get away, not that you care. Not that it matters to you.”

  “How do you know what does and does not matter to me?”

  “Okay, fine. Not that I matter to you. There. Fixed it.” Her arms cross and her fingers dig into the flesh of her arms until her knuckles whiten.

  “Are you being held prisoner right now? Against your will?”

  “It’s complicated, Dane. And if you’re just asking because you’re curious and not because you’re interested in helping get me out of this situation, then please don’t make me waste my breath.”

  “What if I said I was interested in helping you?”

  “Then I’d tell you to start by un-firing me.”

  “Not so fast.”

  Bellamy tucks her hair behind her ear like she’s about to cling to what I have to say next.

  “I’ll need some time to think about this,” I say, straightening my jacket. “Naturally.”

  What good would it do to teach her she could throw a tantrum, call me names, give me some sob story and get what she wants? I’d be doing both of us zero favors by allowing that.

  “How much time?” Her pretty eyes widen.

  “As much time as I need, Bellamy.” I fold my arms and narrow my gaze in her direction.

  “How long would that be?”

  “I don’t know? Weeks? Months?”

  Her fingers snake up to her neck, gripping just under her jaw as she blinks away tears. “You don’t understand.”

  Bellamy falls to her knees once again, like a woman who’s exercised all options and has nothing more to lose. There’s nothing sexy about this stance, and her shoulders rise and fall as her head smashes against the palms of her hands.

  Sniffling fills the voids between soft cries.

  I’m not good at this.

  I’m not good at soothing people when it’s not immediately following an intense sexual scene.

  “Stop.” I rake my hand along my jaw, my gaze flicking up. “Stop crying, Bellamy. Stand up. Have a little more respect for yourself. Show me the girl I met. The one drinking champagne on a Tuesday and ignoring the handsome stranger who dared to ask her name. Give me her. I want her.”

  Her shoulders shake, harder now, and her palms slick away against her wet cheeks until she drags her eyes to meet mine. She takes a moment and pulls in a long drag of cool air to quell the crying.

  “She was a lie.” She focuses on my shoes, refusing to make eye contact. “She never existed.”

  TWENTY

  BELLAMY

  I’m in my office, but I don’t remember how I got here. I think I bolted away from Dane before he had a chance to say another word. I’ve tangled myself into a web of lies, and there’s no one else to blame but myself.

  Dane’s an arrogant, pretentious asshole, and all things considered, I don’t even deserve him. He deserves better than some wanna-be sophisticate who’s nothing like the girl she pretends to be.

  I walk up to the mirror and grab a tissue, smearing off the Chanel lipstick I’d slicked on for him this morning.

  I’m a humiliated fool, no doubt. I thought I could waltz into his office, fall on my knees, take him in my mouth, and redeem myself, but clearly that’s not how he operates.

  All the pretty things hanging in my closet will stay there. The makeup. The jewelry. The car. None of it was mine, but it was pretty amazing to step into someone else’s shoes for a change. I take one final look at them, running my hands along the intricate beading of a silk chiffon camisole in twenty shades of ivory I never had a chance to wear.

  I shut the closet. It’s not the fancy things I’m going to miss the most. It’s the way I felt when I was his for one whole week of my hopeless life. For a week, I was treasured, lavished, ravished, and needed.

  And for one whole week, freedom from Cortland and freedom from my father’s religious rule was beginning to be a fingers-reach away for the first time in my life.

  Plan B.

  I’ll keep trying.

  I’ll find something else.

  I’ll never give up.

  I empty my things from one of the fancy bags I’d used over the weekend, carrying my wallet and leaving the Land Rover keys and my cell phone on my desk, next to my laptop.

  “I’m not a believer in second chances.”

  I glance up to see Dane standing in the doorway.

  “And I’ve never chased after a woman.” He folds his arms. “Ever.”

  “This is you chasing after me?” My knees weaken, and after the morning I’ve had, I need to sit down.

  “I’m not letting you leave,” he says, “when clearly you’re in dire straits. I was hoping to make you work for it a bit more, but seeing as though you’re on a tight timeline, I’m not sure you can afford to wait.”

  I nod, squeezing my eyes. My fist tightens, pressing against my lips.

  “Can I just say something?” A quick inhalation bottles in my chest. “I’m so sorry for lying. I’m sorry for everything.”

  He chuckles, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat across from me. “Blanket apologies are half-assed, Bellamy. I’m happy to offer you assistance, but you won’t receive my forgiveness unless you offer a better apology than that.”

  He’s right.

  I’m going to have to confess…

  Everything.

  “Several months ago, I met this guy at church.” My eyes close as my fingers drum on the table. “We started out skipping Bible study and fooling around in the backseat of his car. Long story short, he’s threatening to tell my father everything if I don’t court him and subsequently agree to marry him.”

  I peek through one eye, to see Dane’s narrowed expression as he rests his chin against a balled fist while he studies me.

  “So I’ve been courting him a couple months now. It’s awful. He’s awful. The thought of him touching me again makes me sick.” My tongue smacks as a wave of nausea hits. “He’s a monster, Dane. And my family loves him.”

  “You’re an uncompromising woman, Bellamy. I’m finding it hard to believe you’re being strong-armed by some religious nut you met at Bible study.”

  My head tilts. “There’s so much more than you know, Dane. Gi
rls have been married off in my ward. Married off to old men with dozens of wives. My father associates with those people. Shares the same believes. You don’t understand what he’s capable of. He’ll do anything to protect the family’s reputation. He’d kill to be a quorum member too. Proving to them that he can raise a whole soccer team of children to walk the divine path would be a quick ticket in for him.”

  “I’m not discrediting you.” He sits up, pursing his lips. “What’s his name? The guy you’re supposed to marry?”

  I want to ask what he’s going to do with that information, but instead, I offer it up on a silver platter. “Cortland McGregor.”

  His name puckers my lips and sends a sloshing sensation to my stomach.

  “The salary you were paying me,” I say. “I was going to save it all until I had enough to buy my own car and afford to move out.”

  Dane is as quiet as he’s ever been in the short amount of time that I’ve known him. His fingers rake across the downturned corner of his mouth and the hollow spot above his jaw flexes.

  “You were selling yourself to me,” he says.

  “Willingly,” I add.

  “And what did you plan on doing once you’d achieved your goal?” His gaze tightens. “Once you were done with me, done doing what needed to be done.”

  “I didn’t think that far.”

  I wish he’d look at me.

  He rises. “I’m not fond of being used, Bellamy. I’m not fond of being lied to or manipulated.”

  “I understand. And I’m so sorry.” I get up and saunter around the desk until I’m face to face with him, and then I slowly lower myself to my knees once more. With my hands clasped tight against my heart, I glance up into his blue-grey gaze and pray he doesn’t hate me after what I’m about to tell him. “Randy Mutchler never offered me a job, which I know you know. I had an interview that day, and I missed it. That’s how I ended up at the bar. And then you walked in, and everything happened so fast. I needed a job in the worst way, Dane. And by the time I realized what I’d agreed to and you offered me such a generous salary, it was too late to mention to you that I was a virgin.”