She stood there, staring at him, challenging him. Dante sat very calmly, apparently nonplused at her outburst.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she demanded.
“There really isn’t much to say. You’ve made your choice.”
Kate stared at him, hating that he was so gorgeous. Hating that his sapphire blue eyes seemed to look right through her. Hating that his hands on her body made her feel things she’d only dreamed of. Hating that she loved his quiet control, and yes, hating that she loved that he had dared put her over his knee. She stamped her foot, spun around and stomped to the door.
“Kate,” Dante called.
She stopped but did not turn around.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
His voice was infuriatingly steady.
“What?” she spat, spinning around.
“The clothes.”
“Fine!” she barked, her temper now in complete control. “I don’t want you to have them anymore anyway. I’ll take these stupid clothes but I’m no putting them away. That’s what Lois is paid to do!”
Turning around she reached down and gathered up the strewn clothes, bundling them haphazardly in her arms and strode to the door. It was however, locked, and she had great difficulty holding the load of unfolded clothes while trying to turn the small knob above the door handle.
She began cursing, furious that her grand exit was being marred. She heard Dante chuckling which exasperated her even more. She fiddled with the small brass knob but it refused to budge. It was impossible with all the clothes bunched up in her arms. She turned her head to look at him. The huge smile on his face was too much to bear.
“Here!” she cried, hurling the clothes at him. “You want them back in my father’s room, you put them there!”
The garments landed short of their mark and fell on the floor in front of him.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, shaking his head. “I think you just might end up a very sorry girl for this.”
“The only thing I’m sorry about is getting into the bath with you,” she yelled, finally able to open the door.
She slammed it behind her and bolted up the stairs to her room. She burst in, ran straight to her bathroom, and finding the deepest, darkest red lipstick she had hastily applied it to her lips.
“Aaarrggghh!” she cried. “Damn you Dante Giordano. Damn you, damn you!”
Running into the bedroom she threw herself on her bed and grabbed a pillow. Hugging it tightly she let out a loud, exasperated shriek. Never had she been so enraged.
CHAPTER FOUR
Who did he think he was? Maybe some of the things he had said were true. It was just her frustration and temper that would get the best of her. She didn’t mean any harm.
The whole job thing was stupid. She had lots of money in her trust fund waiting for her and in just a few years she could do as she pleased so why did her father insist on her working anyway. When it came right down to it all she really wanted to do was ride her horses and indulge in her other favorite pastime. Painting.
Being a professional artist. Now that was a job that she’d love. She’d tried to take art classes but none of the teachers could show her anything about painting that was of any interest to her. She was a free spirit. She didn’t want structure, and rules, and - and - and....
She rolled on to her back and stared up at the ornate ceiling. Her room had been decorated to her very demanding specifications but it was she who had painted the ivy that climbed her walls. It appeared to wrap around pretty white trellises and criss-crossed the ceiling. It had taken many back breaking hours which became more back breaking hours, but the time was insignificant. The day she finished was one of the happiest of her life.
The forest green carpet reminded her of deep grass from which the ivy sprung, and the flowers that festooned her white furniture and four poster bed she had painstakingly sketched, then painted in thick oils to give them a three dimensional affect. Staring at the ivy always calmed her, and even now, overwhelmed by the events of the morning she was able to lose herself in its tangled vines.
She started to settle down and as she did so she began to regret her hasty retreat. As usual she had acted impulsively. Yes she had been angry, but with just cause. Surely when she saw him again and explained he would understand. He spanked her for heaven’s sake, hard, and she’d taken it and even kneeled before him just as he’d asked. What more could he want?
The memory of the moment swam inside her and a dust devil sprang up, twirling in her stomach. It had felt so amazing to be there - like that - kneeling in front of him. She could feel her pussy react and slipped her hand inside her tights. She closed her eyes, recalling how he had fondled between her legs, his touch sending sparks through her loins just as it had in the bath tub. Her fingers began prancing, moving against her clitoris in a slow, practiced rhythm.
To her surprise she found herself thinking about being across his lap, his hand bouncing off her flesh, his lecture, his control and authority. She was rubbing herself urgently, feeling almost panicked the need for release was so great.
The bubble was building fast and the more she thought about the spicy spanking the higher and faster she found herself climbing. The dam broke, and she let out a cry as the orgasm surged through her body. Her fingers toyed and played milking the moment until the last short spasm died away.
Never had she climaxed so fast, and never to such imagery. She wished he was with her now, enveloping her with his powerful arms. She wanted to smell him, to taste him. And oh- how she wanted to kiss him.
She felt the threat of tears and was filled with regret. What had she done? How could she have been so impetuous and stupid? Why hadn’t she just gone to the corner as he’d instructed? Would it have been so terrible?
Amends. She would find a way to make it up to him. He was her friend - for years and years - besides the fact that he had turned into the most extraordinary man she’d ever met. She was sure he would understand.
Rolling on her side she hugged her pillow and resolved to make things right. She’d take a quick shower and change into something sweet and alluring then go and find him. She’d apologize, even offer to lay across his knee again and take her punishment for being so bad tempered. The thought sent a tremor up her spine, and running to the bathroom she stripped quickly and stepped into the shower.
Dante was taking a nap. The clothes were exactly where they had landed when Kate had thrown her tantrum and tossed them across the room. He hoped she would come to her senses soon, and then he would have to have a very serious talk with her. Such conduct would not be tolerated again.
His ankle was throbbing badly and stirred him from his light sleep. Sitting up he leaned over to study it and was shocked at the sight. It had swollen considerably and his skin was an ugly shade of black and blue. He attempted to put some weight on it but found it excruciating. He was in bad shape and he wondered if he had indeed, suffered a fracture. Standing up he painfully hobbled to the door and went in search of Cecil. He needed professional medical help and he hoped Cecil would be able drive him into town.
A short time later, Kate, dressed in a clingy white silk top and pale blue mini-skirt came bouncing down the stairs. Her long legs were freshly moisturized and she wore no socks with her white ballet slippers. It may be bleak and cold outside but she wanted to look bright. Like the spring.
She moved quickly to Dante’s suite, but hesitated when she reached the door. Taking a deep breath she practiced her apology in her head then knocked quietly and waited for a response. When none came she wasn’t sure what to do. Perhaps he was in the bathroom or taking a nap. She knocked again, a little more loudly, but was greeted by silence. She didn’t want to intrude but she was desperate to see him. She knocked a third time, and finally unable to stand it any longer she pushed down the handle and opened the door.
Tentatively she peered in the room and called his name. No response. The clothes she’d thro
wn at him in her righteous indignation were laying exactly where they had landed. Guiltily she walked past them and made her way to the bathroom. The door was open and there was no Dante to be seen. Turning back to the bedroom she decided to wait for him, convinced he’d be back soon.
Slowly she began to pick up the sweaters and shirts and pants laying on the floor. One by one she folded them neatly, and when she was finished she sat on the bed wondering where he could be. She kept expecting him to walk through the door but the longer she waited the more concerned she became.
She thought back to her outburst. What was it he had said?
Apparently you’ve made your choice.
Panic seized her. Did he think she didn’t want him? A hand clutched at her heart and she raced into the hallway. Running through the house she called his name but was met with silence.
Bursting into the kitchen she looked around frantically.
“Miss Hollister, is there a problem?”
The voice came from behind her and Kate spun around. It was Lois, the housekeeper and cook, coming in from the laundry room.
“Cecil, Dante, have you seen them - either of them?” she demanded.
Lois, a kind woman who had been with the family for for many years, stared at the young woman in front of her. Kate was extremely distraught and totally out of breath.
“What’s the matter? Are you all right?” Lois asked, more concerned with the state of the young woman than Kate’s question.
“I’m fine,” Kate declared loudly, filled with frustration. “Just tell me if you’ve seen them.”
Lois, having known Kate’s temper and attitude for longer than she wished to remember, did not react to the outburst. Kate was a drama queen and that Lois knew all too well.
“Yes. They left a little while ago.”
“Did they say when they’d be back?” Kate asked anxiously.
Lois shook her head.
“No, but Dante was limping rather badly. I doubt he’ll be back today. Probably not for a while. Not with that ankle.”
Kate felt her heart sink. She couldn’t believe it. She’d driven him out of the house. Cecil must have taken him home, wherever that was.
Walking dejectedly from the kitchen she made her way back to the guest quarters feeling depressed and miserable. She picked up the pile of neatly folded clothes and headed up the stairs. The very least she could do was put them back.
She walked down the long, deeply carpeted hallway and through the imposing double doors that lead to her parents suite. It was huge and grand, with expansive dressing areas for each of them on either side of the room. She entered her father’s closet and put everything back exactly where she had found it.
Walking back into the impressive bedroom she moved across to the window. The weather was terrible. The cold rain was still pelting down and it was a dark, dreary day. She wondered where Dante was, where he lived, what his house was like. Maybe he didn’t even live in a house. Maybe he lived in an apartment. He wondered how many girlfriends he’d had. Had he spanked the other women in his past?
The unanswered questions were making her a little nuts, and the thought of him being with another girl made her crazy. Sighing, heavy of heart, she decided to go back downstairs, back to his room. Whether he returned or not it would never be the same again. Nothing - would ever be the same again.
She ambled dejectedly down the stairs, turned into the hallway and entered his room. She stopped at the couch and stared at his bed. There was an indentation where he had stretched out. She moved across, and climbing on the soft comforter she laid herself out, taking up the space where his body had been. She could smell him on the cover and prayed silently, promising if he came back to her she would be a very good girl.
Just, please give me the chance, she begged, she knew not to whom.
A few miles away, after a long wait in the emergency room and exrays taken, Dante’s ankle had been strapped up. Much to his relief there were no broken bones but it was a nasty sprain. He was going to be laid up for at least a week.
“I think you should stay at the estate,” Cecil advised him, as they made their way back to the car. “I know Mr. Hollister would insist on it if he were here. You know he’s always looked upon you as the son he never had.”
“Thank you. Actually Cecil, I haven’t had a chance to tell you or Lois. Mr. Hollister has requested I stay at the estate and see if I can get a handle on Kate. Help her through this difficulty - you know - being fired again.”
Cecil suppressed a grin. If anyone could get a handle on Kate it would be Dante.
“I think that’s marvelous,” Cecil replied. “You always did have a way with her.”
“I just - how should I put this - have a way of communicating. Making things black and white. Easy to understand,” Dante answered. “But I should warn you - there may be some tantrums coming up. If you hear her screaming bloody murder don’t worry and you needn’t come running.”
“Oh Dante,” Cecil replied, this time allowing his smile to surface. “I certainly won’t worry in the least. And I shall let Lois know as well.”
As the car pulled out of the hospital on its way to Dante’s house to pick up his clothing and other necessities, Dante wondered if Kate was past her anger. She was bright and beautiful and he was sure she was fixable. But ultimately the decision was hers.
Back at the Hollister estate Kate had drifted off to sleep on Dante’s bed. The events of the day had exhausted her. She dreamed of him - of his lips touching hers - and being cradled in his arms completely forgiven. When she finally stirred she found the room in darkness. Evidently she had slept through the afternoon. She stretched and yawned and sat up. To her dismay he had not returned. The scratchy tenderness of her bottom made her stomach do a little dance.
She pondered her choices. She could do nothing and hope he’d call or come by, but patience was not one of her virtues. She could ask Cecil where he lived and then drive over there, or search for his phone number in her father’s office. Neither idea seemed very practical or desirable.
She padded into the bathroom and flicked the light switch. Laying on top of the laundry hamper were the jeans and shirt Dante had discarded when she first brought him in. She picked them up and held them to her nose, inhaling his unique scent. She saw the red smear of her lipstick where he had wiped his fingers after rubbing it off her lips. It brought a lump to her throat and she absently touched her mouth. She had reapplied the lipstick and now she wished she hadn’t. Sighing, she was about to place them back on the hamper when she had a flash of inspiration. There might be some kind of ID in one of his pockets. Something with an address or phone number.
There was nothing in the back pocket of the jeans so she dove her hand into the side. It was deep, and she was fishing around, all her attention focused on her search.
“Looking for something young lady?”
Kate jumped. Spinning around she saw Dante on crutches, standing in the doorway. He did not look pleased.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kate’s heart leapt in joy, then her face flushed with deep embarrassment. Too stunned to speak she could only watch as Dante limped towards her. She was sure he would have been striding had he not been injured. Gingerly she withdrew her fingers from the pocket of his jeans.
“Always go through other people’s things when they’re not around?” he demanded, yanking them from her hand.
“Dante,” she sputtered, “it’s not what you think. Honestly.”
“What I think is that you learned nothing this morning and it was a complete waste of my time,” he said coolly, turning away from her.
She watched him limp back into the bedroom frantically trying to think of what she could say. Heart pounding, she waited until he was settled on the couch by the fire, his crutches on the floor, then tentatively approached.
“Dante,” she began demurely, “I was only looking for some way to contact you. I wasn’t ---”
“Contact me? Why?” he asked
brusquely. “You could simply have waited for me to return.”
“But I didn’t think you were coming back,” she said urgently. “I - uh - I really wanted to - needed to - uh ...”
For the first time in her life she was lost for words. How could she explain all that she’d gone through in the few short hours he’d been away, not to mention all that she was feeling now?
Dante was watching her closely and it was evident she was struggling. It was almost as if she was repentant. Was it possible?
“You really wanted to what?” he pressed, intrigued by what she had to say.
“To apologize,” she stammered.
“I see,” he said, his voice softening. “And just what is it you wanted to apologize for?”
Kate felt herself near the brink of tears and felt supremely self conscious standing in front of him.
“Everything,” she whispered. “Just everything.”
She swallowed hard and stared at him, a burning lump growing in her throat.
“I suggest,” he said slowly, “that if you’re sincere and really mean what you say, you will take up the position you were in before you threw your childish tantrum.”
Kate thought back to the morning, which seemed like days ago, and recalled how amazing it had felt kneeling before him. She moved closer to him and dropped down.
“Hands behind your back,” he instructed.
She felt her nipples stiffen under the white silk top and tried to steady her breathing. Locking her fingers together at the small of her back she waited anxiously, gazing up at him.
“So what is it you have to say to me, Kate?”
“I am very sorry for my - uh - how I got upset this morning when you told me to go to the corner. And for throwing the clothes at you. And yelling at you... just everything.”
She looked at him with pleading eyes, begging for his understanding and forgiveness.
He had hoped all afternoon that she would come to her senses, and now that she was clearly remorseful he said a silent prayer of gratitude. There was light at the end of the tunnel.
The Billionaire's Daughter Page 5