Teeth brushed and faced washed, she climbed into her queen-sized bed and switched on the TV, but she was too wound up to fall asleep. What had she gotten herself into? That pompous ass would be sending someone to pick her up tomorrow night and take her to his house where he’d do terrible things to her. The thought made something in her belly clench. Well, not really her belly, farther down. She decided to consider the bright side. He could have been an ugly son-of-a-bitch, something she hadn’t considered when volunteering with her unbridled enthusiasm, and before thinking the whole thing through. He was probably the best-groomed and best-dressed man she’d ever seen. That black pinstriped suit he wore had to be more than the mortgage payment on her apartment and the royal blue tie perfectly complimented his pale blue shirt. She’d always been a sucker for a guy in an expertly tailored suit. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean, his wavy brown hair framed a face that could knock your breath out at twenty feet, not to mention those smoldering dark eyes. They looked downright dangerous. And the kissing, she hadn’t expected that. But her thoughts soon settled on other things—floggers, restraints, clamps, hot wax? Yikes. Well, restraints didn’t bother her, she’d let a boyfriend or two tie her up before, that was fun. Clamps? Definitely not. The other stuff? Perhaps in an alternate universe.
Sleep continued to evade her. Even Jimmy Fallon couldn’t distract her from thoughts of kinky sex and what the perverted Dr. Taylor would do to her. Frustrated, she jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen to retrieve the folder Rob had given her. Sliding under the covers again, she switched on the bedside lamp and flipped through the background info inside. There: the required negotiation between a Dominant and a submissive. They would have to agree on what was acceptable to both of them. Well, she thought, he probably liked the most extreme everything. Ugh. There were definitely things she had no intention of trying. Some of them she couldn’t even say out loud. How much stuff could he make her do in a week? Well, twenty-four hours in a day, times seven days, that’s 168 hours. Gulp. That’s a lot of sex, or whatever. But they had to sleep and he had to go to work, so that would probably cut it in half. Maybe there would be a lot of people in need of emergency heart surgery and she’d get lucky. On the other hand, she did need to learn enough to be convincing for her debut at the club next weekend. Oh, boy. Catch 22.
Whichever way this went she was fucked, literally and figuratively.
Chapter 2
Saturday
The morning found Alyx in bed with three of the Seven Dwarfs—Grumpy, Sleepy and of course, Dopey—for having volunteered for this reckless assignment in the first place, and she was off to see Doc, although he was most definitely not a dwarf in any way, shape, or form. She’d probably take a turn as Bashful when she arrived at his den of iniquity, but hopefully she’d have a few moments as Happy. Sneezy? Maybe she’d catch cold from being naked too much. Well, she’d officially lost her mind.
Alyx reminded herself to keep her eye on the prize, seeing those slavers in handcuffs. She’d managed a few hours of restless sleep, haunted by nightmares of whips, chains, nipple clamps and spreader bars, although the one where the illustrious Dr. Taylor dripped hot wax on her had actually awakened her with an orgasm.
Shit. Could she really be into this stuff? Could she be some sort of sex-crazed pervert? Hell, no. What would her parents have said if they’d ever known she was doing this? Good thing they were both dead, because it might have killed them. Did she really just say that? She was glad her parents were dead? Well, she wasn’t entirely sure her mother was six feet under.
Fuck, she was losing it and she hadn’t even stepped into Daniel’s dungeon yet. Holy Crap. Did he really have a dungeon? She’d read about them and seen pictures online. Some people called them playrooms. Yeah, playroom, she liked the sound of that much better than dungeon. She thought she remembered Jack, the club owner, saying Daniel had a playroom in his house. A shiver ran through her and her belly clenched in that weird-wonderful way again.
Alyx scoffed down her usual breakfast, Greek yogurt with granola—blueberry today, and then ruminated over her coffee for at least an hour. Perhaps she should spend some time grooming her body. She had the distinct impression she wouldn’t be wearing much clothing during the upcoming week of scheduled torture under the iron hand of Dr. Taylor. Grabbing the phone, she called the salon to see if she could get a mani-pedi. Three o-clock. Perfect. She’d save her shower for later.
Dressed in jeans and a navy tee, she threw on her short white denim jacket and walked the three blocks to the shop. Another beautiful autumn day greeted her and she soured over the fact that she wouldn’t be able to attend the get-together with her hometown buddies. She’d been excited about seeing everyone this weekend and catching up on local gossip. Riding a few waves if the weather held out.
Someone shouted, “Alyx!” His tall lean frame came at her. Jason. Ugh. She waited and watched, hoping a car might hit him as he crossed 9th Avenue against the light.
“Hey, babe, what’s new?” His good looks dazzled her, like they had when she first met him. Too bad he was such a prick. He had an ego the size of the Empire State Building and made sure he spread it generously around most of Manhattan, the bodies of fawning women (and maybe even a few men) strewn thoughtlessly in its wake. She still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his act, blaming it on his GQ looks and his well-honed sexpertise. Momentary insanity she pleaded to herself and perhaps a tad too much alcohol on countless occasions.
“What do you want?” she said tersely. He pulled her into a hug and she felt her body go stiff. He promptly let go.
“You look great. How are you?” he said as if they hadn’t been through the worst break-up ever.
“Why do you care?” she said, her expression dour.
“What’s with the cold shoulder? You on the rag or something?” His glare unnerved her and anger lurched up from her gut.
“In case your memory fails you, the last time I saw you things got pretty ugly between us.”
“I was a jerk. It wasn’t intentional. I just got a little carried away with the game we had going. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You totally overreacted.”
“Overreacted? You left me tied up for hours. I was so numb I thought I’d never walk again.”
Jason leered at her. “Such a drama queen.”
“I have somewhere to be.” She shook her head in frustration and walked around him. Stopped. Jason still had a set of keys to her apartment. Shit. She had to get them back, or change her locks. She’d already let this go on too long. “Jason,” she said, turning toward him. “I need my keys. I’ve asked you like a dozen times.”
“Sure, I’ll bring them over one night. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not,” she said emphatically. “I’ll be out of town until next weekend. I don’t want you coming over, just drop them in the mail.”
“Come on, I’ll come over and we’ll have some fun. We were good together.”
“What? We were awful. You cheated on me at least five times.”
“Whatever.” He walked off in a huff. Well, she’d definitely have to get her locks changed the minute she finished this assignment.
Alyx returned home with bright red toenails glaring up at her from her flip-flops. She usually picked a more demure color but apparently her inner harlot had already surfaced.
She emptied the duffle bag of clothing for her cancelled weekend with friends and repacked if for a week with Mr. You-Won’t-Be-Wearing-Much-Clothing. Zipping it shut with a forceful tug, she stripped out of her clothes and headed for the shower. The buzzer on her intercom sounded, startling her. She wasn’t expecting company. Fearful she’d lost track of time and Daniel’s driver had already arrived, she glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Only 5:30 p.m. Safe.
She wrapped herself in a terrycloth bath sheet and went into the living room. Pressing the intercom button, she heard Matt’s voice and buzzed him in. Opening the door a crack, she peered down the hallway at the elevator. Matt greeted
her warmly and they shared a quick hug before she ushered him inside.
“Sorry, you caught me as I was getting into the shower,” she said, a touch embarrassed.
“Good thing I love my wife.” Matt flashed her a wicked smile.
Alyx slapped him on the back in playful admonishment. “What are you doing here? Everything all right?”
Matt removed his denim jacket and slung it over the couch. “I wanted to check on you. I’m worried about what you’re doing with this guy, this Dom dude.”
How sweet, she thought. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Please.”
“But I do. This is way over the top, if you ask me. I can’t believe the Bureau even asked you guys to do something like this.” Matt’s brow wrinkled up. “Go take your shower, I’ll help myself to a beer and then we can talk.” Matt headed over to the refrigerator and opened it wide. He leaned in and grabbed a Corona from the top shelf. “Got any lime?” he called, his head still inside the fridge and his cute butt perched in the air.
“In the bottom right-hand drawer.”
She let the hot water cascade down her back, banishing the invading chill of anxiety. She shaved everything smooth. Jason had talked her into going sans pubic hair; actually, he’d done it for her, having come up with the idea one night in the middle of foreplay. He’d pushed her knees open wide and secured them to the frame of the living room’s pullout bed using scarves he’d scrounged from her closet. A little foam and a razor and well, the whole thing had been pretty hot and the added sensitivity during sex had surprised and elated her. There she went again, remembering the good parts of a relationship when this one belonged clearly in the loser column.
She towel-dried her hair, rubbed her skin with coconut oil and threw on yoga pants plus a white camisole. Matt sat on her couch with his legs sprawled across the coffee table. His alma mater, Michigan State, scored a touchdown and he hooted loudly, slapping his knee. “Yeah, baby.”
Alyx sat on the over-stuffed chair and propped her bare feet on the table. She wiggled her garish red toes and chuckled.
“For your new sexy persona?” Matt pointed the neck of his beer bottle at Alyx’s toes. He smirked.
“Might as well go whole hog if I’m going to be convincing.”
“You’re scaring me. Who are you and what have you done with Alyx? I think some sex-crazed alien has snatched her body.”
“It’s kinda weird. I waver between terror and excitement.”
Matt chuckled. “I came over because I was worried about you, but it seems like you’ve got this under control. But having kinky sex for a week with a total stranger.” Matt seemed to consider the situation carefully for a minute. “Although, I could see where it could be kinda interesting. Like a fantasy.”
“Exactly. That’s kind of where my head’s at. It’ll be for the greater good. I have to admit; his body is like a god’s.” Alyx blushed.
Matt laughed out loud. “Shit, Alyx, you’re hysterical. I think you’re actually looking forward to it.”
Matt drained the last of his beer and slammed it down hard on the coffee table. “I’m glad I stopped by. You’ve put my mind at ease, mostly. But if this whole thing goes south, call me. I’ll drop everything and come get you.”
“Thanks, Matt. Sure, I know you always have my back. I’ll be fine. It’s only for a week. How much stuff could he do to me in a week?” Well, she’d already done the math on that and had concluded, a lot.
Matt slipped on his jacket, hugged her, landing a kiss on her forehead. “Do you need me to keep an eye on your apartment?”
“No. My neighbor, Hilda, has a key and she’ll water my plants. After this week, I figure there’ll be another week or so while I’m working at the club and I’ll be staying at the place they rented for me to crash at.”
“All right then, I’m outta here. Jillian is going out with her girlfriends tonight and I’m on baby duty. Sure is nothing like my old Saturday nights. At least there’s a good game on tonight.”
They shared a wave goodbye as the elevator doors closed. The clock on her kitchen wall said 6:30 p.m. Yikes. She only had a half-hour to finish drying her hair, put on a little makeup and throw on some clothes.
At seven o’clock on the dot the buzzer shrieked. She gasped. A short man in a dark suit and thin black tie greeted her when she opened the door. His graying hair formed a perfect semicircle around the back of his head, the hallway lights reflecting off his shiny bald top. “Ms. Cameron?”
“Yes,” Alyx croaked. Where had her voice gone?
“My name is Mason, Dr. Taylor sent me to pick you up.”
“Hello, Mason. You’re very punctual.” Alyx reached for her overnight bag, but Mason beat her to it.
“I’ll get that, miss,” he said, turning toward the elevator. Alyx locked her apartment door and followed him. Mason pressed the bottom button marked LL. Her mind wandered. LL— Loser, Loser or Lucky Lady? Alyx settled into the rear of the silver Lincoln Navigator and laid her head against the seat. She’d offered to sit shotgun next to Mason, but he insisted she take the back seat, like some privileged rich bitch with a chauffeur. Retrieving her phone from her purse, she plugged in the ear buds and swiped her finger across the screen until she found Adele. She closed her eyes and let the music carry her away to someplace sad. Perhaps she fell asleep, because they arrived at the beachside mansion fairly quickly. Actually, too quickly.
Mason popped open the door and waved her out with a bit of a flourish. The three-story Victorian structure seemed to glow with the light of a thousand candles. No lawn, just tufts of beach grass with their flouncy fronds bowing to and fro in the night breeze. It stayed cooler near the ocean and she hugged herself for momentary warmth. Her eyes peered up to the top of the huge manor where an oversized tower loomed. She immediately thought of shackles and whips. Could there be a dungeon on the high turret of the massive house? No, a dungeon would be underground, in the basement. She shuddered, but not from the chill. Her thoughts ran through scenes from scary movies. God, Alyx. What have you gotten yourself into?
“Coming, miss?” Mason said, interrupting Alyx’s thoughts of bondage and pain. She hadn’t taken a single step away from the car yet.
“Of course. It’s quite an impressive home, Mason.”
“You’ll like it. Dr. Taylor has taken this old house and made it quite a showplace. Yet, as my wife says, it’s rather homey.” Somehow Alyx seriously doubted that.
Mason opened the colossal front door and stepped back, his hand upswept in a welcoming gesture. Alyx crossed over the threshold and held her breath, the foyer alone was bigger than her entire apartment. A double staircase arched upward to the second floor, the white spindles in stark contrast to the dark oak banisters. The chandelier above belonged in a haunted mansion with its dark wrought iron filigree frame that enclosed glass globes. Gleaming wooden floors welcomed her feet and a giant circular table with a marble top held a replica of an old-world schooner with its intricate rigging and starched white sails. Soft jazz sounds wafted and she felt transfixed in this completely unfamiliar world.
“Can I take your jacket, Miss Cameron?”
“No thank you. Please, call me Alyx.” She wondered what the kindly old man thought of this whole arrangement. Did he know why she was really here? Did he know she worked for the FBI?
“Very well. Dr. Taylor said to meet him in the main living room,” Mason announced. “Come, I’ll show you.” He left Alyx’s duffle at the foot of the majestic staircase and she trailed him through a huge, well-appointed kitchen and a short hallway to the right.
The doctor sat on the far side of a U-shaped sectional couch facing a massive stone fireplace with a giant TV screen mounted above. A fuzzy beige rug lay beneath a square wooden coffee table. The black and taupe striped cushions surrounded him in a comfy embrace. Newspaper pages masked his face and only his faded jeans and part of his black tee were visible. He’d crossed one leg over his knee, his feet bare.
Did he know she was stand
ing there? She waited. Mason had vanished soundlessly. She wondered if he expected her to start acting like a submissive already. Especially after she’d gotten all up in his face about being willing to jump right in. Or perhaps she was the one who’d been a pompous ass. Panic grabbed her gut. Maybe she should kneel in front of him. Or, or, or. No way that was happening. However, she didn’t want to piss him off in the first five minutes of her arrival either.
Slowly, methodically, he folded the paper in half and laid it on the cushion next to him. He folded his arms over his broad chest, making his biceps bulge. His gaze fell on her. “Agent Cameron, you came.” Alyx didn’t say anything. Anger warmed her face. She thought she’d been clear about her commitment. Apparently, he hadn’t taken her seriously. Her number one rule in life was not to jump to conclusions, take each situation on its own merits and assess its worth. It had served her well on the job and in her personal life. Well, except for Jason the Philanderer. Her radar had definitely been malfunctioning then.
“I told you I was in. I thought I’d made that crystal clear.”
“You did. However, I’ve found people frequently don’t say what they mean.”
“Or,” she countered, “they mean it when they say it, but they change their minds.” Alyx pursed her lips. “I prefer to believe people don’t choose to lie.”
“That’s an odd statement coming from someone in law enforcement. Not only are you a professional liar, I would think you deal with many, many liars in the sordid world of crime.”
Alyx thought a minute. True. Matt had often chided her for being too sympathetic in their line of work. However, she’d never actually been wrong in her assessment of a suspect, or a witness. She believed in people, but she wasn’t stupid either.
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