Command

by Sierra Cartwright

  He needed to see if they could work together, if she could coax or coach Grant into being more prominent. The public, as well as the press and business community, would need to trust him.

  Turning to her for help wasn’t a bad tactic. She’d developed a leadership program in their overseas divisions so that all representatives, no matter where they lived on the planet, were communicating the same messages about Bonds’ integrity and how freaking cool the products were.

  She’d seen an intense side of Grant. The fact he’d created Molly—and the hologram dog—attested to his creativity. If the world could see that—like she did, like Julien did—then Julien would be free to expand the business. But first, she had to get Grant out of his cave. Realization dawned on her. The cave wasn’t just literal, it was figurative, too. The man needed to come back, at least occasionally, to Silicon Valley. Julien was right about other things, too. When people interacted, energy was generated. What had happened between her and Grant was proof of that.

  But she recognized the firm set of his jaw. Whatever had brought him here to Los Alamos would take a while to undo. That was okay. She was patient. He hadn’t shoved her into a BDSM scene. He’d allowed it to move at its own pace. She could do the same for Julien and Bonds. “There is no one else,” she told him. “You’re a cofounder. You understand him. Without you, there would be no Bonds. Julien is smart enough to know it—and so are you.”

  “This was never part of the deal.”

  She was willing to bet that Grant leaving Julien’s side hadn’t been part of the plan, either. To cover her frustration and the fact she wasn’t sure how to help, she asked, “So, where were we before the genius interrupted?”

  “Talking in circles,” he replied. “Probably because I couldn’t stop thinking about sex.”

  She grinned. “Me either.” She crossed the room and slid back onto the stool near him. “What have we got?”

  Drinking coffee, they reviewed their ideas from yesterday.

  Grant pressed a couple of keys and a thick piece of glass rose from the floor. “Sometimes I prefer to work the old-fashioned way.”

  If glass partitions rising from a hole in the floor were old-fashioned, sure.

  He grabbed a set of colorful markers and put them on top of the metal table then picked up an eraser and started to remove old notes.

  “Wait!”

  “Don’t panic. Molly took an image of the work, saved it and created a file. She can project it back at any point.”

  “Silly me. When I say old-fashioned, I mean I get a notebook and scribble random thoughts, and when I can’t remember where I left the notebook, my ideas are gone forever.”

  “That is old-fashioned,” he agreed with a disarming grin.

  Together, they recreated the thoughts from yesterday, of how to make Molly functional at a greater level. They added new notes, ways Molly could be improved.

  “Don’t tell her I agree with you,” Grant warned.

  They took a short break to head back toward the kitchen for snacks and to brew a third pot of coffee. She noticed the dog in front of the hearth, and it lifted its head when she entered the room. Its tail did a slow thump on the floor. “Shadow,” she said.

  “Shadow?”

  “The dog. He’s always there, real, but not real.”

  “Brilliant and appropriate,” Grant approved.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before now.”

  “You did well. I’ve lived with him for months without even coming up with a name. Shadow it is.” He nodded.

  Outside, the sky was a milky blue. “This is the first time I’ve seen the sun since I arrived.”

  “Once the front passes, it will be spectacular.”

  A few minutes later, drinks refreshed, they returned to the workshop. The forest scene was back, and the sight of their notes, in random colors, with dots connecting them and small drawings invigorated her. “We need to start with a platform that already exists,” she said. “Something that’s already in a lot of—if not all—homes and build from there. Don’t limit it, but consider ones that carry data.”

  He drew a line that arced. “Name them.”

  “Internet. Cable. Some appliances already have smart technology built-in.”

  “Cell phones. Tablets.” Grant nodded and wrote, then added, “Alarm companies.”

  “Alarm companies?” She drummed her fingers on the metal. “That’s a hell of an idea.”

  “We still have the problem of proprietary or closed interfaces.”

  She nodded. “Unless we work out a deal. Or…”

  “Or?”

  “Never mind. It seems…ridiculous.”

  He capped the marker and looked back at her. “That’s what the brainstorming process is for.”

  “I know. But no one wants to be that person. You know, the one where everyone rolls their eyes? Or worse, groans.”

  “Better you than me.”

  “Thanks.” She shot him the stink eye to let him know how she felt.

  He grinned and slid onto a stool across from her.

  “We could work out deals with all these different places—or we could build our own. It makes sense in some ways. We already provide music, books.”

  “Keep going.”

  “An even bigger challenge is the hardware. How do you think Julien would feel if we asked him to go out and buy an alarm company and a cable company?”

  “Yeah.” He sat back. “Pick any two from above. Cable and alarm. Satellite and alarm.”

  “They have hardware already in people’s houses. They’ve got trust established, a business model that could be tweaked, but it wouldn’t need to be created.”

  Grant whistled. “This is a departure.”

  “Privacy concerns,” she added. “And that’s just the beginning. We’ll be accused of dozens of things. Obscure laws will be dug up. We’ll be sued by private industry, by governments, including our own. It’s ludicrous to even consider it.” She put a hand over mouth, as if that had any hope of stopping the flow of the words. “I can list sixty-two thousand reasons we should abandon this line of thinking right now. Figure out how to market a stuffed animal that lets nervous parents know how their baby is doing at day care. We should enhance the phones, tweak the watch technology. I know…release the tablet in fourteen karat gold accented with diamonds.” Anything but dream up a project so filled with problems.

  “If we’re not going to change the world, what’s the point in showing up for work?” he asked.

  That wasn’t rhetorical. More like the company motto.

  “It would enable us to add a million different services. Your music can play through the whole house.”

  “And if Julien wants to go into movies…”

  “Fuck me. He could be on everyone’s television sets.” Grant tossed his pen in the air. “He’ll fucking love it.”

  “And he can talk everyone through the instructions via a hologram.”

  “If there’s a device in the home…”

  They were both silent.

  “This will take years,” he said.

  “Eons,” she agreed. Her heart was thundering as ideas zipped through her brain, and possibilities blossomed. “Connecting the world. Others will be forced to interact with our interface.”

  “Better that than us trying to interact with theirs.”

  Those words could have come directly out of Julien’s mouth, she knew. She was beginning to see how much alike their viewpoint was, even though they couldn’t be more different otherwise.

  “And someone’s going to attempt this eventually,” he continued. “But it will never end up as well as if we do it.”

  “This is beyond arrogant,” she said. “Audacious.”

  “Huge.”

  “Hairy.” And that was what Julien demanded from all his employees. If a concept wasn’t scary, it wasn’t worth the investment of energy. If it was terrifying, all the better.

  She picked up her thermal cup to
take a drink, but it was empty.

  “I could go and refill it for you.”

  “You’re a man after my heart, but I need to sleep tonight.” Forgetting the coffee again, she slid from the stool and arched her back. “We need to think this through. We can’t take it to Julien at this stage.”

  “Agreed.”

  She noticed that the sun was setting on the horizon. Again, they’d worked for hours without either of them noticing. Being here, without constant email and phone interruptions, soothed the brain as well as the body. She understood Grant better. Who could blame him for not wanting to go back, especially with all that that entailed?

  Unfortunately, she knew it was part of her job to get him to agree to that. Bonds needed him. Julien needed him. The world needed him. So how the hell was she going to convince him to do that? “It looks so pretty out there with all that snow,” she said, glancing at him back over her shoulder. “Cold, but spectacular.”

  “We can use the hot tub after our session in the dungeon.”

  Just that fast, he changed her thoughts, derailing work ideas and making her internal temperature climb. Her pulse, already zinging from the brainstorming, became even threadier. “I thought I said I’d pass on that.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “But you didn’t say yellow.”

  “Clever man, Mr. Kingston.”

  “He likes Your Majesty better,” Molly chimed in.

  “Automatic response,” he said.

  “Julien,” Aria added.

  “Those privacy concerns are going to be legitimate. Anyway, back to our conversation. Let’s start dinner. As I suggested earlier, I’ll take you out there. You can have a look around. You can even bring your wine and your objections. Then you can make a decision about the upcoming evening. If you don’t want to be the subbie to christen it, that’s fine. No pressure.”

  He made it sound light, fun. And maybe it could be, for a different woman. But she knew herself and him. Grant would snare her in his spell, and soon she’d be trying things she’d never heard of. And she’d be having a spectacular orgasm—or two.

  He stood. Since they’d been working for hours without a break and she was hungry, she nodded. “No promises.”

  “Haven’t asked for any.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  After leaving the workshop and securing the door, they walked down the hall, and she saw the dog was again curled in front of the fire. “Do you have Shadow on a timer?”

  “I enjoy the companionship when I want dinner, so yes. Whatever time dusk is, he shows up. And if I leave the house, he waits in the foyer for me.”

  Her heart slowed momentarily as it occurred to her how very alone Grant was. Julien was right to seek him out. It wasn’t just for the brainstorming or for the fact Bonds needed a more involved second-in-command. This was about Grant himself.

  She knew his isolation was self-induced. She was willing to bet it had something to do with his former fiancée as well as grief. He was clearly a man who loved deeply and completely.

  “Pasta?” he offered. “Or we could warm up some tamales, though I’d rather make those for breakfast with eggs.”

  “That sounds interesting. So pasta would be great.”

  “Baked ziti?”

  “Yum.”

  “Don’t be overly impressed. Daniella brought the sauce, so it’s homemade, just not in this house.”

  They settled on a bottle of Chianti, and while she set the table, he opened the wine.

  After the pasta was cooked, he mixed it with the sauce and an obscene amount of cheese.

  “Who knew heaven could be found at seven thousand, five hundred feet,” she said.

  “I take it you approve,” he replied as he popped the casserole dish into the oven. After they loaded the dishwasher, he poured wine into two plastic mugs.

  “Let’s go have that look, shall we?”

  Now the plastic mugs made sense.

  He grabbed her coat from the hook and held it while she shrugged into it.

  “Are you always so chivalrous?”

  “When the woman matters,” he replied.

  She looked at him. “Am I being seduced?”

  “Is it working?”

  His tone was serious, the look in his eyes burning. “Yes,” she confessed. “It is.”

  “Part of my nefarious master plan.” He put his coat on then unlocked the door and picked up their wine mugs. “Molly, illuminate the path. Unlock the shed.”

  “The shed?” Aria asked.

  “Only certain people know the truth. Trying not to shock the ’Nillas.”

  “’Nillas?”

  “I’m sorry. That was scene speak. Short for vanillas. Someone who isn’t into kink.”

  He kept a protective arm beneath her elbow as he followed her to the building. “The path might have iced over,” he explained.

  She wasn’t sure a man had ever been this courteous toward her.

  “Allow me,” he said when he reached past her for the doorknob. “Molly turned up the temperature a while ago so you don’t freeze.”

  The nondescript door swung open, and shock almost made her lose her grip on the drink. “It’s…scary as hell.” The floor was concrete or stone of some sort. Shackles were attached to the walls. Some sort of X-shaped structure stood in the middle of the room, and it had a light focused on it. A pair of medieval-looking stocks sat off to the side.

  Grant put his fingers in the small of her back to encourage her to enter. If he hadn’t been blocking the way, she might have run. Instead, he sealed them inside.

  “Cue reality,” he said.

  The room seemed to shimmer. The shackles faded. The stocks vanished. “You…”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t resist.” His smile was irresistible.

  She scowled at him. “You know, by this age, most people have outgrown the need to pull pranks.”

  “No. They really haven’t. Think about surprise birthday parties. Or keeping it secret when someone’s coming home at the holidays.”

  “I always peek at my Christmas presents,” she reminded him. Because his enthusiasm was irresistible, she glanced around.

  The X stayed in the middle of the room

  Other than that, nothing remained the same. Walls were painted a dove gray. Blinds covered the only windows, which were on the far side of the space. A gorgeous wooden cupboard of sorts was attached to the wall. It was only about six inches thick, but it was a few feet wide. There were a couple of doors.

  “Storage,” he told her, “and a bathroom over there with a small dressing area.”

  She noticed there was also a sink, along with a round table accompanied by two chairs.

  “This is the real dungeon,” he assured her. “That’s called a St. Andrew’s cross.” He indicated the X-shaped structure that was painted black and had thick red padding attached.

  “You mentioned that when you were telling me about your first experience.” She could see why it had made an impact. The thing was at least five feet tall, and there were a number of eyebolts screwed into the wood. Even to a newbie like her, the screws didn’t need an explanation. “It’s huge,” she said. “Intimidating.”

  “Any more so than last night on my bed?”

  “Maybe not,” she admitted. “But, I don’t know. It seems much more serious.” She exhaled. “That didn’t make sense, did it?”

  “It did. You’re finding this a bit overwhelming because it’s out of context. Things progressed naturally yesterday. If I’d have brought out the spreader bar earlier, you might have run.” He nodded toward the cross. “Try it out,” he encouraged. “Get familiar with it.”

  “What?”

  “Step up on the platform. Face it. Spread your arms, your legs. See what it would feel like. Then try it with your back to the X. You can keep your clothes on. You’ll be perfectly safe. Even the restraints are still locked away.”

  She took a long drink from her wine, considering.
She was alternately scared and thrilled, as he’d undoubtedly known she would be.

  After a deep exhalation, she went to the table and put down her plastic mug before taking off her coat.

  As she walked across the stone floor, her footsteps echoed. That, she realized, was real. The surface wasn’t uneven enough to be dangerous even in heels, but it added to the ambiance.

  Feeling self-conscious, she stepped up onto the platform, facing the cross. The structure was angled slightly back, evidently so that gravity helped keep a submissive in place. She reached out her arms then spread her legs. The padding was thick, making it more comfortable than she’d guessed. In this position, her legs were no farther apart than they’d been when he’d used the spreader bar last night.

  “Visualize me dragging my flogger over your shoulders, down your back.”

  Since she’d never felt anything like that, she had difficulty with what he suggested. But his voice, low and deep was intoxicating, making her want to picture it. She closed her eyes.

  “To me, flogging is a sensuous experience. It’s meant to make your body feel alive. Foreplay.”

  Until his pussy spanking, she would have said that was impossible. But he’d said he intended to demolish her paradigms.

  “Now turn around to face me,” he said.

  She did. Approval was etched on his face, making her glad she was out here with him.

  “Now imagine looking at me, your gaze fixed on mine, as I use a light flogger on your breasts and thighs.”

  Her heart was doing a frantic thud.

  “Get yourself in the position you’d be in.”

  He’d stayed on the far side of the room. Mug of wine in hand, he rested his shoulders against the wall, and he put a booted foot on the wall behind him.

  Suddenly, she wanted to please him. She extended herself along the X.

  “As safe as you are at this moment, Aria? You will always feel this from me.”

  For endless seconds, they looked at each other. Earlier she’d thought of him in terms of his ability to weave a spell that drew her in, and that’s exactly what had happened. In a short space of time, his opinion had started to matter.