That left the east wing and the main part of the house for me to explore.
It took me nearly half an hour just to cover the first floor. There was a small indoor pool and I peeked into the garage and saw that I’d been right—there were seven cars inside and it could easily hold five more. The sun was starting to set, throwing shadows across the stairs as I walked up them.
I finished my self-guided tour. I cast the west wing another curious glance, but I had absolutely no desire to go anywhere if I might run into Dominic and a guest. That guest was female.
Dominic had made it clear he wanted his privacy and I’d give him that.
I’d also save myself the jealousy—
Yeah, girl. You’re really doing that, I thought sourly as a twinge of it dug its way into my heart and twisted deep.
Something cracked.
I jerked to a stop at the sound and whipped my head around.
It came again, followed by a low, rough noise.
What was—?
It came again and I found myself following the noise. I don’t know if it was foolishness or concern. Then I heard it again.
In high school—those hated, hated years—I’d found myself ostracized even more when I came across the football captain in the middle of a fight with his girlfriend. He’d backhanded her, slapping her across the face and the sound was one I’d never forget.
That sound was a lot like the one echoing through the halls now.
Maybe it was fury that drove me, just as it had then. I’d lunged between them and swung my Calculus textbook at the big, arrogant jock, catching him off-guard. When he’d gone to hit me, I’d swung again and then kicked him in the knee, the way my dad had taught me.
He’d gone down and when he fell, he broke his arm. Goodbye, regional championships.
I found myself reliving that moment as I raced around the corner and there, I froze. Because now I could hear the other sound. A moan. A low, rough moan and it brought a rush of heat to my cheeks.
Turn around, I told myself. You said you’d respect his privacy.
I almost did stop.
But I heard that harsh, heavy sound again, followed by another long, deep moan.
I had to look.
If there was somebody being hurt, I’d never be able to live with myself.
Carefully, I edged down the hallway, reaching into my pocket to pull out my cellphone. Automatically, I silenced the ringer. I peered inside the door. It was mostly shut, but not enough.
Day-yum.
Dominic was naked. Golden tanned skin covered every glorious inch of him, muscles rippling as he moved. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and from my angle, I had the perfect view of his perfect ass.
Seriously, it was like a work of art, firm and muscled and round.
I stood there, my mouth hanging open, he shifted position slightly and I watched as he brought one hand up, wrapped it around his cock and gave it a slow, thorough stroking.
He shifted again and my gaze landed on his back.
Eyes widening, I saw something I hadn’t seen before. Granted, I’d been a little preoccupied and a lot thrown off-balance, but he had scars. Scars the like I had never seen before. Not that I have a lot of experience, but my brain didn’t know how to process what I was looking at.
Thwack.
I jumped at the sound and shifted my gaze.
He wasn’t alone and he wasn’t the one moaning.
There was a naked woman in there with him…and she was tied up, her arms bound overhead to the bedpost. To the rings—oh my god, my mind flashed back to the bed back at the penthouse. To the rings. Fuck. Dominic—he was—okay, he was…
Shit.
Her arms were stretched high, her wrists tied with strips of cloth, attached to the tall wooden bedpost at the base of the bed, facing away from me. And as I watched, Dominic brought his hand down on her ass again. Which would explain why it was a startling shade of pink.
She made a low, husky noise.
I had to bite my lower lip to keep from doing the same. A hard, heavy throb echoed down deep inside and, to my horror, my clit began to pulse. He spanked her again, and my clit pulsed as though I was the one standing there, and not over here, an uninvited guest to their little party.
I pressed my hand against my chest, surprised to feel how hard my heart was beating against my ribs. Leave, I told myself as Dominic bent over and grabbed something. A moment later, I saw that it was a condom.
He was getting ready to…oh. No. I needed to leave. I can’t watch them…
You’re already watching it, a gleeful little voice thought. If you can watch it, have the guts to think it. You’re watching them fuck.
I watched, mesmerized, as Dominic rolled a condom over his cock. I knew I shouldn’t have stayed, but I couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t just Dominic, though. It was the sheer, unadulterated hunger and the way everything about her seemed to beg for more. For his touch, for his body, for the hard blow of his hand on her ass.
Spanking was something I’d always associated with children and punishment. A firm crack on the behind for something done wrong. Absolutely nothing sexual or sensual about it. I’d never understood the people who’d used it that way.
Now, though…
“Do you want me to stop?” Dominic’s voice was low, but not out of control. “You know what you have to say.”
I swallowed hard.
“Speak, Maya, or I’m going to get my belt and you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
I shivered, and reflexively, I found myself clenching my buttocks, just as this unknown woman, Maya, was. Need twisted low inside me.
“Fuck me.” On the other side of the door, Maya gasped. “Damn it! Fuck me!”
“That’s not what I want. Say what I want to hear.” Dominic wrapped her ponytail around his hand and yanked her head back. “This is the last time I’m going to ask.”
I wasn’t sure which I wanted more: to see what would happen if she didn’t say it, or see what happened if she did.
“Please, sir.”
My nails dug into my palm and the wetness between my thighs gathered. I’d never be able to look at him and call him sir without remember this again. Never.
“Please, fuck me.”
The last word turned into a wail as Dominic slammed into her with one thrust. I bit my bottom lip, wondering what it must feel like, being empty one moment and full the next. I wondered if it hurt. He was so big. The one guy I’d had sex with hadn’t even been close to that size, and it had hurt. But Maya didn’t sound like she was in pain.
In fact, as she threw back of her head and screamed, I was pretty damn certain she was enjoying herself. And it made me look back on the one pitiful sexual encounter I’d had with even more dismay.
Okay, so I’d been a kid and it hadn’t been much fun, but now I really felt cheated.
Chapter 3
Dominic
Trouver L’Amour would open to clients on Valentine’s Day with a lavish masquerade ball.
Planning it with Fawna over the past few months had been more fun—and more intense and stressful—than I could imagine. You want to have a Valentine bash in New York City? Start planning it a few years in advance. Also, stock up on aspirin and alcohol.
Fawna was still nonplussed when it came to my…less than mainstream sex life, but we had a similar view when it came to anything resembling a romantic relationship. They were fine for other people, but not for us. We didn’t need a significant other to make ourselves feel better or special. We didn’t have the time or the patience for building trust and pretending to care about what other people thought or felt. We certainly had no time for mending the hurt feelings that would inevitably come with any sort of romantic relationship.
Our only real relationship was with each other. There were a few other casual friends, but the truth was, I was closer to my personal assistant than anybody else in life.
Now how fucked up is that?<
br />
We knew each other’s thoughts and moods. There was no pretense between us. When you see people at their worst, it had the tendency to either completely destroy a friendship or solidify it.
Fawna and I had seen each other at our worst—and I loved her as much as I was capable of loving somebody. There was nothing romantic to it. She was, plain and simply put, my closest friend in the world.
And she was leaving.
I understood. There was no doubt about that, but I’d miss her.
After this party, she was going to quietly withdraw. The two of us had both been surprised with how easily Aleena had taken to the job Fawna had turned over to her.
The slow burning attraction I felt for my new PA was still there—and it was no longer quite so slow burning, but it wasn’t happening. Down that way lay trouble—and possibly lawsuits.
The past three weeks hadn’t come and gone without pitfalls—especially the first few days after the trip to the Hamptons. Aleena had been stiff and awkward, hardly looking at me with direct eye contact and I wondered if, perhaps, Maya had said something to her, but once we got back to the city, she’d slowly relaxed.
She had more steel to her than I’d expected. It drove me crazy even as it drew me to her.
I was still aggravated about the shopping thing.
I’d dragged it out of Fawna. She’d gone shopping at consignment stores—consignment stores. I’d given her a damned credit card and she could have gone anywhere, but she’d preferred to stick with the clothing she’d already picked up. Fawna had talked her into buying a few more pieces, but it had been very few.
The only high-end purchases had been Fawna’s doing, several cocktail gowns that Fawna had rightly insisted Aleena would need.
Now, caught up in a debate with Aleena, Fawna and one Mrs. Irene Dudeck—the party planner Fawna had insisted we hire—I tried not to let myself get distracted by Aleena.
It was hard—no, almost impossible.
The one blessing in disguise was the one I hadn’t wanted, Irene Dudeck.
Irene was good at what she did, but she was also on the hunt for husband number three. I didn’t mind that nearly fifteen years separated us. I minded that she watched me with avid dollar signs in her eyes.
But just then, she was focused on the party and the dollars it would bring. Her overly high laugh kept interrupting my daydreams. Daydreams that had to do with me seeing Aleena stretched out over my bed, her warm skin gleaming soft against my sheets, then blushing to rose after I brought my hand down on that ripe, firm ass.
“Candlelight,” Aleena suggested. “Candlelight, a few roses at the table and some mirrors. Keep it subtle, keep it simple. If this is a masquerade ball, people are going to want to keep the focus on them anyway—and you want them thinking about Trouver L’Amour.”
Candlelight…I could get behind that idea.
“Nonsense,” Irene said, sniffing. “That’s clichéd. We want something with a little more mystery. Silk wall hangings.” She tapped her lips and her face lit up with a smile. “Champagne silk! I know just the thing!”
“No.” I straightened up and shot Irene a look. “We’re running out of time. I think simple is the best idea.”
“Why…” Irene drew herself up and stared at me. “Mr. Snow, I assure you that I can handle this. My staff and I—”
“Are very good at what you do, but you won’t be able to see the vision I have inside my head. I want simple elegance.” I gave her a smile and reached out, brushing my fingers across the back of her hand. “You have to admit, Irene. Nothing beats the flicker of candlelight across a woman’s skin for sheer elegance. As for mystery…a woman, in and of herself, is all the mystery we’ll need.”
As Irene smiled and leaned my way, I saw Aleena share a quick glance with Fawna. Their expressions were poised and perfectly professional. Yet, I had the feeling they were both smirking at me.
A short while later, after I’d escorted a flustered Irene to the door, I turned and glared at Fawna.
“Problem?”
Fawna had been with me too long to be thrown by the curt tone.
“Not at all.” She gave me a serene smile and asked, “Would you like me to send a personal invitation for Ms. Dudeck? I’m sure she’d love to…mystify you personally at the ball, Dominic.”
I snarled at her and then shifted my glare to Aleena. When all she did was give me an inquiring smile, I jabbed a finger at her. I was pissed off and being an asshole and I didn’t care. I was fed up with the frustration of wanting her. Fed up with there being nothing I could do about it. I could only imagine kissing that unseen smirk off her face and leaving her panting and aching—as desperate for me as I was becoming for her.
No. No…I don’t do this.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Ms. Davison,” I said, biting each word off. “If you can’t sit with an event planner and act more professionally than that, then this isn’t going to work out.”
Her lashes fluttered.
I braced myself, waiting for the snap of her temper—I’d come to appreciate it, even found it amusing, and sometimes, a welcome change.
But what I saw was a flash of shock. Her nostrils flared slightly and a flush of color appeared on her cheeks.
“I apologize, Mr. Snow.”
Her phone rang. “Turn that damn thing off,” I barked.
“Dominic!” Fawna snapped at me.
“I’m tired of that damn thing ringing when I’m trying to have a conversation.”
Aleena backed away. “I’ll take care of the call, if that’s acceptable, sir.”
She inclined her head and turned, walking quickly away. As the door closed behind her, Fawna rounded on me. “What is the matter with you?”
“I…” Snapping my jaw shut, I realized I had no answer.
The door opened and Aleena stood there. “Mr. Snow, it’s your mother. Are you available?”
Well, fuck.
I held out a hand, looking at Aleena’s face, but she had her head slightly bowed, her eyes downcast. “I’ll wait out in my office,” she said quietly as she turned the phone over.
Helpless, I lifted the phone to my ear. Closing my eyes, I said, “Hi, Mom.”
“What’s this I hear about a party, darling?”
Skipping the small talk, are we, Mom?
“It’s not a party, Mom,” I said with a sigh. “It’s for Trouver L’Amour. For clients.”
“But they’re clients from our social circle, darling. People who know me and respect me.”
I wasn’t so sure about that last part. Respect wasn’t really all that big in our inner circle. People respected money, and they respected power. But respecting the person? That wasn’t something we saw much of.
More and more, that was bothering me. I found my eyes straying to the closed door between Aleena and me.
“You’re welcome to come, Mom.” I knew that was only part of what she wanted, but if I gave in to this right away, I was hoping it’d move things along a bit faster. “I just didn’t think you’d want to spend your Valentine’s Day mingling with people during a match-making soiree.”
“And where else would I spend it?”
Now we were getting closer to it. “Aren’t you going to spend it with Richard?” I named the latest in a long list of ‘companions’ my mother had had since the divorce. The last two had gone to school with me at one point or another.
“Richard,” she scoffed. “I dumped him ages ago. He was only after my money.”
Translation: he found someone just as rich, but younger.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mom,” I said softly.
“Well, water under the bridge, as they say,” she said, her voice taking on a tragic, noble air.
That was my mother. Even as I thought it, guilt stabbed at me. I hadn’t had a good relationship with her for…well. Maybe I’d never had one. Even after my life had gone to shit in my teens, things hadn’t gone well for us. I hadn’t been the sweet little delight
she’d hoped for—not that she’d ever told me that to my face, but I knew I’d been more trouble than she’d planned on when she adopted me.
At least she did love me, though.
My dad…? Once it became clear how very scarred and ruined and broken I was, how damaged I’d probably always be, he’d decided then and there to wash his hands of me.
I thought of the woman on the other end of the phone.
Of us.
Clearing my throat, I said softly, “I’d love for you to come to the party, Mom.”
Things hadn’t always been easy, but she’d been there, even if she hadn’t known what to do or what to say after. She’d been there.
Dad had just walked away.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding mildly surprised.
“Okay.” Feeling awkward now, I looked around my office and immediately wished I hadn’t. Fawna stood exactly where she had been and her gaze was sheer fire. “Ah…okay, I need to get back to work. More things to wrap up for the party.”
“Very well. I’ll see you Saturday. Oh…I heard that Penelope Rittenour will be attending. I’m sure she’d love to have some time with you, Dominic. She so enjoys your company.”
I reminded myself that this was neither the time nor the place to go back to that discussion. “All right, Mom. I’ll send out an official invitation in today’s mail, and I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Lovely, darling,” she chirped. “Till then.”
Dropping Aleena’s phone onto my desk, I braced my hands on the surface.
Fawna said nothing.
“Get it out,” I said, staring at the neatly stacked and labeled folders. They bore Aleena’s handwriting now, not Fawna’s. She was taking to this job too easily, too quickly. It would have been better, I decided, if she’d just sucked at it.
“Get what out?” Fawna asked sweetly. “Tell you that you’re being an ass? Oh, I don’t think I need to mention that, dear. You already know.”
I shot her a dark look and then snatched up the phone.
I opened the door, an apology already forming on my tongue. Apologies were like medicine, I’d always tried to tell myself. Best to get them over and done with.
Serving HIM Box Set Page 9