“Well, I am,” I told her firmly. “Unless you have something against me personally.”
She frowned. “No. Of course not.”
Someone cleared their throat from behind me and I glanced over my shoulder.
“Mr. Ramsey, your car is here,” the attendant said, his gaze dropping to the ground.
I peered over at the curb, then turned to him as I adjusted my jacket. “Because I’m a nice guy, I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But in the future, you should know that it’s only polite to bring the lady’s car first.”
The attendant looked mortified that he’d disappointed me.
Good. He deserved it.
“Now, go,” I barked. “Get it.”
“Yes, sir,” he stammered, then ran off.
We waited another few minutes while the attendant scurried off to do my bidding, and I fought the urge to kiss Clarissa. I wanted to know how her lips would feel against mine. I wanted to hear her sigh and moan when our bodies came into contact. It was all I could think about.
However, there would be plenty of time for that later. I had to play this the right way or I risked losing Clarissa before I ever had her. I’d waited long enough. I wasn’t willing to fuck it up now.
Finally, the sound of an engine pinging behind me had me taking her hand. I passed over a tip to the valet attendant, then helped Clarissa into her car. I leaned in and kissed her cheek before stepping out of the way and closing the door.
I’d known since the first moment I laid eyes on Clarissa that she was going to belong to me. Truthfully, I’d waited longer than I should have. Now it was time to show the woman exactly what it meant to submit.
And she would submit.
Of that, I had no doubt.
Troy
THIS WAS DEFINITELY NOT MY year.
“Why me?” I blurted aloud, although there was no one around to hear me.
And oddly enough, that was the good part.
After Trent left for his lunch meeting, I called for an Uber, had them swing by Starbucks for a strong black coffee before they delivered me to my apartment. When I got here, I stood in the parking lot and stared at my car wondering what the fuck it would take to whip the damn thing into shape.
I needed my car.
While I stood there with the scent of garbage drifting in the breeze, staring at the piece of shit—that really wasn’t a piece of shit—I had gone over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Why me?
For a brief moment, I’d gotten so lost in my self-pity I even considered going to my parents’ house. And everyone knew things had to be bad in order for me to consider that.
It wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had, but at the time, I didn’t want to be alone. Sitting around with my thumb up my ass would only allow me to contemplate all the shit going on and why it was happening to me. I knew my father was at work, so it would’ve given me the opportunity to chat with my mother for a while. She didn’t mind listening to me complain when it was necessary. I hadn’t seen them in a week and I tried to check in frequently.
However, I had nixed that idea. Instead, I had given in to my self-loathing and decided to trek up to my apartment and spend the rest of the day moping around.
Unfortunately, those two flights of stairs had only made a bad day worse.
Well, technically, I couldn’t blame the stairs. However, I could blame my apartment. Or rather the person who continued to come in uninvited. Luckily, they tended to slip out before I came home, which, again, was about the only thing going for me right now.
Yep, my apartment had been broken into.
Again.
“I just don’t get it,” I said as I stared into space, wondering what the hell someone was after. I didn’t understand. They obviously came in and rummaged through my things, but I could never find anything missing.
It wasn’t like I had a whole lot. Aside from my television, my clothes were about the only thing of value. Other than that, it was mostly department store furniture and appliances. Nothing at all worth stealing.
A knock sounded and I spun around to see a uniformed officer standing in my open doorway. I didn’t recognize him from any of the previous trips the police had made out here. This guy looked to be about my age. He was short and stocky with what appeared to be red hair beneath his police-issued hat. A woman—a little older with blond hair pulled back into a ponytail—stood a few feet behind him.
“Are you Troy Shelton?” the man asked, his eyes narrowed as though he suspected I was the intruder and not the guy who had called the police almost an hour and a half ago.
“I am, yes,” I told him as I dropped my hands to my sides in an effort to appear as unthreatening as possible. I was a relatively big guy. Six foot, quite a bit of muscle. While I wasn’t an aggressive person by nature, I got the feeling the man was a little standoffish.
The officer’s eyes scanned the room briefly as he took a few steps inside the apartment. “You called and said you had an intruder?”
“Actually, I called and said I had a break-in. The intruder didn’t stick around hoping for an invitation to lunch.” I wasn’t trying to be a smartass, but it wasn’t easy not to. I was sick of going through this same routine over and over again. I knew what they were going to say before they said it.
After surveying the room—I lived in a studio apartment, so the only other room was a bathroom—the officer’s eyes cut back to me. “Does anything appear to be missing?”
My place was clean, no clutter anywhere, so it wouldn’t be apparent if there was. However, I had given the drawers and cabinets a quick once-over when I got there.
“Not that I can tell, no. But there never is.”
The officer frowned, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. “This isn’t the first time?”
“No. Definitely not.” However, I hadn’t called the police on every occasion. Considering nothing appeared to be stolen, I’d figured it was a waste of time.
However, since I was worried about my job and the fact that Trent was likely a few breaths away from firing me, I’d figured it would be wise to have proof.
“If nothing’s missing, how do you know someone was here?” he asked.
“Because the door was open when I arrived.” I knew for a fact I’d shut it and locked it when I left.
The officer jotted something down on his notepad before looking up at me again. “Are you concerned for your safety, Mr. Shelton?”
I shook my head. “So far, they’ve only come in during the day when I’m at work.”
“And where do you work?”
“I’m a personal assistant.” I didn’t elaborate. Some people would’ve dropped Trent’s name in the hopes of getting special treatment, but I wasn’t that guy. I respected my boss’s privacy.
He looked me over again and I got the feeling he didn’t believe me. His partner stepped farther into the room.
“And you said they haven’t stolen anything?” she questioned, her tone firm, almost rude.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.” I turned my attention back to the man. He seemed nicer. “Like I said, they come in when I’m gone. If they would simply close and lock the door behind them, I would probably never know they were here.”
He appeared baffled.
Good. Now he knew how I felt.
“Are you sure this isn’t someone you know? Perhaps they’re pranking you?”
I shook my head. “No one I know would do this.”
“A girlfriend, maybe?” he inquired.
“Don’t have one.” Nor did I have a boyfriend, but I didn’t say that aloud. No sense confusing the situation.
“Have they caused any damage?”
I motioned toward the door. “They kicked in the door once. And they’ve jimmied the lock. But other than that, no.”
The officer glanced back at his partner briefly. When he turned his attention back to me, he was standing up taller. “Well, Mr. Shelton, I�
��m not sure what it is you would like for us to do.”
I sighed. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just figured it was best to report it. If anything, in case someone else is having the same issue.”
The man’s gaze softened somewhat. “We haven’t had any reports of break-ins in the area. Not recently. And certainly not repeatedly.” He glanced down at the door lock. “Maybe you should increase your security.”
Yeah. Maybe.
I’d known when I called the police that they weren’t going to be able to do anything. It wasn’t like I was surprised.
“Well, I appreciate you coming out, Officer.”
“Sure. I’ll file a report,” he said, his eyes once again scanning the room before landing on me. “And if you have any other issues, call us back.”
“I will. Thank you.”
The officer turned and left but not before glancing back at me one more time. I got the feeling he wanted to ask me something, but he didn’t. He turned and walked to the stairs, disappearing.
I figured there were far more important things happening than my repeat intruder who seemed concerned with absolutely nothing.
*
Three hours later, I was sitting at my mother’s dinner table waiting for my father to arrive. I had been explaining the chain of events regarding my apartment and my car. While I didn’t need my mother to do anything about it, I had hoped that by talking about it I could figure out what the hell was going on.
I just couldn’t wrap my head around it, but I got the feeling the two were linked somehow. But who had the time and energy to spend breaking into someone’s apartment and not taking anything? What were they looking for? And why did they keep coming back?
As for my car … I was at a total loss on that one.
“Are you sure they haven’t stolen anything?” my mother asked, confusion etched on her surgically enhanced features. While she was a beautiful woman in her own right, Beatrice Shelton had undergone two plastic surgeries on her nose and had recently become obsessed with Botox. The chemicals and enhancements were starting to show on her aging face.
“I’m sure.” I fought the urge to fidget, something that always happened when I was around my parents.
While we didn’t have a bad relationship, it wasn’t exactly the best.
“And what does Trent think about this? I assume you’ve told him.”
I shrugged. “I’ve mentioned it. But I haven’t told him how many times. It’s nothing for him to worry about. I figure I need to find a new place to live.” And I would. If I only had time.
Then again, I had plenty of time now. Considering I didn’t have to be at work until Monday, I had four more days to twiddle my thumbs. It might seem like a lot of time, but four days wasn’t enough to find an apartment and move, so that was out of the question.
“You know you’re more than welcome to come stay here for as long as you need to,” my mother offered.
I forced a smile to hide my grimace. No way in hell was I moving back in with my parents. A thirty-year-old man did not live at home with his mother and father. Not to mention, my father and I didn’t get along on a good day. If I did end up moving in, there would be no end to the harassment I would receive. Since my father wanted nothing more than for me to come work for him again, I would never hear the end of it.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
I turned to see Isadora, my mother’s housekeeper for the past three decades, standing near the kitchen door. She looked the same as always with her kind eyes and puff of gray hair. There were no signs of the stress that had brought on her panic attack a couple of weeks ago. I took that to mean she wasn’t having much interaction with my father.
“Yes, Isadora?” my mother asked.
“It appears Mr. Shelton is going to be late at the office. He said to have dinner without him.”
My mother sighed and I looked back at her. For the first time, I noticed the lines around her eyes. She looked tired.
“Thank you,” my mother said, then turned her attention to me. The smile she sent my way was as forced as I’d ever seen. “It looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”
I couldn’t say I was disappointed. The thought of fighting with my father was enough to give me an ulcer.
“Shall I cook supper?” Isadora offered.
I held up my hand and looked at my mother. “Since it’s just the three of us, why don’t we skip dinner and have popcorn while we watch a movie?”
My mother’s eyes lit up and a genuine smile tilted her collagen-filled lips. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” My mother’s favorite pastime was watching old classics—Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, even The Godfather—while eating popcorn. As a kid, I’d spent plenty of evenings doing exactly that.
“Isadora, would you care to join us?” I offered.
The woman who had practically raised me as a child beamed back at me. “That would be lovely.”
With an exuberance I hadn’t seen in quite some time, my mother hopped to her feet and clasped her hands together. I was almost certain there were tears in her eyes.
“While we get the popcorn, you get the blankets,” Beatrice said.
And it appeared my evening wasn’t going to be as bad as I’d expected.
FOUR
Clarissa
Saturday, August 18
BY THE TIME SATURDAY ROLLED around, I was beginning to wonder what planet I was on.
Ever since lunch on Wednesday, I had received a flower delivery every day. And not just a small vase, either. These were giant, beautiful, fragrant, and the type of flower varied from day to day. Everything from roses to lilies to a stunning fall arrangement—wishful thinking since it was still technically summer. And there was no question as to who they were from because they always arrived shortly after three o’clock followed by a text from Trent asking if I had received them.
While he had called me several times during the three days since we saw each other, I refused to answer the phone. I tried to blame it on nerves, but I knew it was because I was a chicken. I didn’t know what to say to him and I knew without a doubt I would give in to anything he requested if I heard his voice.
It was childish and petty, yes. And I wasn’t making excuses.
I knew something was going to have to give, though. No way could I avoid him forever. Luckily, I knew he was in Chicago, so I didn’t have to worry about him showing up at my front door. I wouldn’t put it past him. A man like Trent did not get pushed to the back burner easily.
Not that I was doing that. I was merely trying to wrap my head around the fact that a man like Trent Ramsey was interested in me. It didn’t seem real.
It was the same reaction I’d had to his invitation to the opening of his club a couple of years ago. I’d been so stunned I had immediately thrown the invitation away for fear I would go. While I had a ridiculous attraction to Trent, I knew better than to get mixed up with a man like him. He was temporary and the last thing I was interested in was a one-night stand with a Dom.
So, here I sat at home alone on a Saturday night. It was a familiar situation for me. I didn’t do much going out these days. Unless it was to the grocery store, which I knew didn’t count. Most of the time, if I wasn’t trying to drum up business, I would veg on the couch and watch Hulu or Netflix.
In a word, I was boring. I didn’t have much of a social life anymore, but that was my own fault. I belonged to several BDSM clubs—most of them didn’t have the strict membership criteria or outrageous fees like Dichotomy or Devotion—but I couldn’t bring myself to go. I had my reasons, none of which I wanted to think about now.
When my cell phone buzzed beside me, I nearly launched up off the couch. I grabbed it, laughing at myself for being an idiot.
There on the screen was a text from Trent.
I should’ve ignored it. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. I could’ve made it through the weekend without thinking about him if I did.
Oh, who wa
s I kidding?
No matter what, I was constantly thinking about Trent. Day. Night. It didn’t matter, he was always there in the back of my mind stirring up old memories of him.
I thought back to the one time I’d been playing with Xander, Mercedes, and Shane at Devotion. Not unlike plenty of other times I’d played. Only this was the first time I noticed Trent watching me. All those sordid, repressed memories came back in a rush.
I wasn’t sure I was breathing. I was overwhelmed by the wondrous scent of Mercedes and the way her soft lips felt against my own.
Oh, God! I was being kissed by a woman.
A freaking woman.
And I enjoyed it.
Oddly enough, I wanted more. I wanted to know what Mercedes’s tongue would feel like in my mouth, her hands on my body.
Nope, this was not good. I wasn’t supposed to lust after a woman, but I was.
“And how do you plan to respond next time?” Mercedes asked as our lips separated slowly.
“Yes, Mistress M,” I said softly.
“Good girl,” Mercedes said, a sexy grin tugging at her beautiful lips.
I was breathless and Mercedes’s eyes glittered with what I hoped was approval. Was this part of the deal? Was Mercedes going to be with me? Like with me with me? Was that even something I wanted? Based on the way my insides were smoking from the flames that had ignited down low, I was beginning to think the answer was yes.
Or was this some sort of test to see how much I could take? Or how far Xander could be pushed?
Because all in all, this was about Xander. Mercedes insisted on dominating him, despite the fact that Xander had never submitted to anyone in his life. But for whatever crazy reason, he was, and Shane and I were along for the ride.
Based on the expression on Mercedes’s beautiful face, I had to assume she was testing Xander. She seemed very much interested in him, not me. Not to mention, I knew for a fact that Mercedes wasn’t into women.
“Very nice,” Mercedes said, grazing my lower lip with her thumb before she released me.
Their Famous Dominant (Office Intrigue, 4) Page 6