I Will Not Beg

by Cherise Sinclair

  “That’s…amazing.” Abby thought for a second. “Doesn’t such versatility require an immense amount of people on staff?”

  “We have a few on staff, but we also use third-party companies. A chatelaine not only arranges, but also oversees whatever services are needed for each client.”

  Abby’s eyes lit. “Are you taking on more clients? Do you handle the Tiburon area?”

  “We are, and we do.” Yes, yes, yes. As Piper handed Abby a business card from her clutch, she was relieved the English Master had left. She sure didn’t want to work for any Dom. Rich people were tricky enough. “You can find the extent of our services and pricing on the Chatelaines’ website. If you think we can meet your needs, call and we’ll get an appointment set up.”

  “I’ll do that. We totally need you.” Abby gave her a firm nod.

  Need. That word filled every hollow in Piper’s heart with contentment.

  For the next hour, Piper wandered from group to group, meeting people—and not a one came across as being a Master or sadist. She was having a wonderful time. Socializing was totally her crack.

  Returning from the bar, she walked past the concrete planter boxes and veered to avoid the English Master who was talking with another man.

  Obviously returning from the restroom, his slave, Angel, joined the men, waiting silently until Ethan noticed her and nodded permission to interrupt.

  Angel motioned toward the door, saying something softly.

  Sir Ethan cut her off with a quiet few words and pointed firmly to the bench.

  Tears running down her cheeks, the poor woman sat, not joining the conversation, head bowed. Her whole body curved inward in misery.

  Piper wanted to pitch her glass at the bastard Master, or better yet, to throw him over the railing. To watch his body go splat on the street six stories below. That poor woman.

  Did Angel know she didn’t have to stay with him? That she had choices?

  Piper hadn’t known.

  Behave, Piper. She bit her lip. Their relationship wasn’t any of her business. Angel wasn’t a friend. Was a complete stranger.

  Still.

  As Piper moved closer, Ethan’s male friend responded to a hail. He motioned toward the person who’d called, obviously asking Ethan to go with him.

  Ethan set his hand on Angel’s shoulder.

  The slave sniffled. “Would you like another drink, Sir?” She still hadn’t looked up at him.

  Piper didn’t hear his reply, but when he followed the other man, the poor woman seemed crushed. Damn him.

  Time to woman-up and do something. Piper joined Angel on the bench. “Hi. I couldn’t help but see that you don’t want to be here. Do you want to leave the man you’re with? Is he keeping you against your will?”

  “I-I-I…” Angel’s eyes widened.

  Oh, mistake, Piper. Slaves with strict Masters didn’t speak unless given permission. “It’s all right. You don’t have to talk. But did you know that it’s illegal to keep you in slavery? That no slave contract is valid in the US?”

  The woman stared, her mouth dropping open.

  “It’s true.” Once free, Piper had looked into the subject. Thoroughly. Everything about the Defiler’s contract had been wrong. God, she’d been so naïve. “I know it’s scary to think of escaping, but I can help you. Get you to a shelter where you’ll be safe. My car is here, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  “You will?” Angel’s voice cracked. “Will you take me to—”

  “Excuse me, but what is going on?”

  Piper jumped.

  Seeming far taller than Mount Shasta, Sir Ethan stared down at her. His face was all hard edges, and his eyes held less warmth than a Kansas blizzard. The sheer power in his gaze turned her bones to water.

  His friend stood beside him, just as broad-shouldered and muscular, his black hair in a long braid. An amused expression didn’t mask his dominant nature.

  Fear was a rushing roar in Piper’s ears. Be strong, be strong.

  “Angel.” Sir Ethan turned to his slave. His brows pulled together.

  Oh, no. Jumping up, Piper interposed her body between them. “Don’t you hurt her; you leave her alone.”

  Sir Ethan’s black-eyed friend lifted an eyebrow. “I think there might be a misunderstanding here.”

  “I doubt that.” Heart pounding like a jackhammer, Piper felt her right hand fist and rise.

  “No, oh no.” Angel wrapped cold hands around Piper’s wrist. “It’s all a mistake. My fault. This sweet woman thought you were cruel and wanted to help me, that’s all.”

  Silently, Ethan regarded Angel and Piper, then his lips quirked. “She wanted to save you from the evil Master?”

  Piper eyed him, unable to speak. Her heart had lodged somewhere in her throat.

  He shook his head. “There is no need for rescue.”

  Piper didn’t let her skepticism show on her face…or the doubt that was growing. Had she jumped to a wrong conclusion?

  Angel patted her arm. “Sir, if you’ll give me a moment…?”

  The sharp blue gaze swept over Piper again. “That might be best. We’ll be right there” He motioned to a table a few paces away. Too close for Angel to be able to escape without being intercepted. “Call if you need me.”

  As the two men moved away, Piper’s courage emptied out, leaving only fear behind. She swallowed down nausea and looked at the other woman. “You don’t want to leave him.”

  “No. Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve been befuddled all day long. It’s nothing to do with Sir Ethan. My Master is…” Angel’s eyes turned teary. “I didn’t want to be here, and all I heard was that you’d take me where I wanted to go.”

  “But he’s not abusive?”

  “No, Sir Ethan is very kind to me. Really.” Angel patted her hand. “You are so sweet. And brave—I saw how you stepped in front of me. Truly, I’m where I belong right now.” Her tone was resolute. Her gaze level.

  “It seems as if I messed up.” Piper frowned. Although Angel had been crying, her skin held no marks of bruising, welts, or scars. She hadn’t cringed when she’d spoken to her Master. “I’m sorry if I caused problems for you.”

  “You haven’t, truly. I can’t believe you offered to help a stranger. You’re amazing.” Angel squeezed her fingers and let go. “I’ll just go explain.”

  Frowning, Piper watched as Angel joined the two men—and no, the slave didn’t look as if she was worried about being struck.

  Averting her gaze, Piper felt her face heat. Way to go, Piper. You just caused a scene. A little one, but still…

  After a minute, she pulled in a breath and rose to her feet. Unable to help herself, she glanced back over.

  And met the Master’s gaze.

  She didn’t look away, even though the pit of her stomach slid downward several inches.

  But he didn’t glare at her. Instead, the laugh-lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled.

  Her face went hotter. Knees feeling like jelly, she hurried in the other direction.

  “Girlfriend, have you been in the sun too long?” Dixon stepped in front of her and patted her cheek. “You’re all flushed.”

  Great. Lovely. Just shoot me now. “I’m a little warm. There’s actually sun out today.”

  “You obviously need something with lots of ice. Come with me and we’ll talk Stan-the-Man out of another drink.”

  “Right. A drink would be good.” Maybe. She set her hand on her quivering stomach. That whole confrontation had frightened her spitless. Hopefully, she hadn’t shown it, but God, Dominants scared her. Attracted her and scared her. Talk about a double-edged sword.

  She pulled in a breath as she followed Dixon past groups of people. How many of them were Masters? Her skin prickled. This was like being in a horror movie and discovering a scattering of the guests were really vampires waiting to slaughter her.

  Chills played tag up her spine before she gave herself a shake. Enough.

  Turning her
thoughts in a new direction, she remembered she had a goal in mind for this party. “Dix, how about an introduction to some nice single guys. Non-kinky ones—you know, vanilla guys.”

  “Dudette,” he protested. “Not even a few sprinkles for fun?”

  She thought of Sir Ethan. What kinky sprinkles would he be into? The thought created a disconcerting pulse in her depths. Ignore the chemistry, dammit. “No sprinkles. Just vanilla,” she said firmly.

  * * *

  Sitting at a table with Xavier, Ethan rubbed his lower lip as he watched the feisty little woman being introduced to a group of people. Piper—that was her name. A little below average height, sweet curves. His first impression when she was hugging Dixon had been cute. But she was far more complex than that.

  Quite an intriguing woman.

  He glanced at Angel who stood in front of him. “I’m ready for your explanation now.”

  Malik’s slave looked thoroughly chagrined. “I’m afraid I gave the young woman the wrong impression, Sir. She thought I was a slave being held against my will. She said she’d take me to a shelter.”

  About what he’d thought—and very commendable. It was rare someone would step forward to intervene.

  He glanced at the man beside him—his best friend since boarding school—and saw the same respect in his eyes. When Xavier’s mother had fled her husband, Ethan had learned about the harsh reality of abuse.

  However… He frowned at Angel, recalling the sentence she’d started with Piper: Will you take me to… “You aren’t being held against your will, sweetheart.”

  “No, Sir. But”—her eyes pooled with tears—“I heard only that she’d take me wherever I wanted to go.”

  “Ah. I understand.” Heart aching for her, Ethan sat the slave next to him and took her hand.

  “I’m missing something,” Xavier said. “Where did you want to go, Angel?”

  “To the hospital. To be with Malik.” Her Master had been hospitalized yesterday after a car accident.

  Xavier gave Ethan a quizzical look. “That sounds reasonable to me.”

  “Angel, tell Xavier why you are here at a party rather than still at hospital with your Master,” Ethan ordered softly.

  “Because he had surgery today, and the nurses wouldn’t let me sit with him.” Anger thinned her voice. “Sir Ethan thought this party would keep me occupied. Master didn’t want me sitting in a waiting room all day and night.”

  “Of course he didn’t.” Xavier gave her a level look. “I’d give my Abby the same order.”

  Angel’s shoulders slumped. “I just…just want to be with him.”

  “But you can’t.” Ethan edged his tone enough to snap her out of her funk. “Not today.”

  Knowing he’d be stuck in hospital for days, Malik had asked Ethan to serve as Angel’s temporary Master. Some slaves suddenly deprived of a Master had problems. By keeping her under command, Ethan could provide some emotional stability.

  Softening his voice, he added, “Tonight you’ll need to get your rest, pet. Tomorrow, Malik will be awake and hurting.”

  “Yes. He’ll need me then.” She nodded, her chin lifting. “I’ll be there for him.”

  “Yes, you will. He’s lucky to have you.” Married a dozen years, the two were an inspiration. Still deeply in love, although he doubted the feisty little Piper would believe it.

  Ethan saw she’d joined a group of people. Mostly men. Her melodic laugh rang out across the terrace.

  Interesting woman. Afraid, but courageous. Confident, yet her gaze was haunted. Those wide, vulnerable eyes had roused his protective instincts.

  As if sensing his attention, she looked around. When she met his gaze, she turned her back, although her muscles remained tense as if he’d pounce on her from behind.

  Xavier chuckled. “You worry the fuck out of her, don’t you?”

  “So it seems.” If he hadn’t had Angel with him, he would have enjoyed worrying her some more.

  Chapter Two

  “Tomorrow is Sunday. Neither of us has to work. Why don’t you invite me upstairs?” Leaning against the red brick wall of her apartment building, Piper’s date offered her an expectant smile.

  She managed not to sigh. Brian, the accountant she’d met at Dixon’s party yesterday, was a very nice man. Exceedingly handsome. Intelligent, stable, pleasant, nice. But there was no chemistry, at least on her part. He apparently felt otherwise.

  But her reaction to Sir Ethan had shown her what chemistry could be. Even with past lovers, she’d never gotten such a dizzying zing.

  “I’m sorry, but I never take a day off. This isn’t a good time for me.” She stopped as she realized she’d verged into dishonesty. Bad Piper. An open-ended brush-off wasn’t fair to him and unworthy of her. “Brian, you’re an awesome guy who deserves someone great. But that someone isn’t me. Although I had a wonderful time tonight, platonic is how I feel.”

  In fact, she’d have had just as much fun with one of her friends and not had to deal with any sexual pressure.

  His eyes widened in disbelief. He probably didn’t get turned down often. “Oh. Right. Then…right.”

  He leaned in to kiss her anyway, and she set her hand on his chest. Why did they always try? Didn’t anyone know what platonic meant?

  With a slightly annoyed huff, he straightened. “Well. Okay. It was fun. Anyway. Have a nice rest of the night.”

  “You, too.” See? He really was a nice man.

  As he walked away, she sighed. What was wrong with her that there was no chemistry? Another failure. She held her purse with the key fob up to the access reader, heard the lock disengage, and slipped through the door into the marble entryway. Forget running up the stairs. Tired of it all, she took the elevator.

  Once in her apartment, she washed her face and changed into pink and black floral leggings and an oversized black tank. Back to normal, Piper flopped down among the colorful pillows on her comfy couch. Alone. “So much for dating nice guys.”

  Silence filled the room, darkened the corners, and scented the air with loneliness.

  Even despite the Defiler, she’d still hoped to find a companion to share her life. Someone to watch scary movies with—because he’d be the kind of man a woman could hide behind. Someone who liked to have fun—because laughter was always better when shared.

  She shook her head. Long ago, during Piper’s group therapy, the counselor asked for everyone’s idea of the perfect evening. The other women came up with fancy dinner and dancing, concerts, tropical evenings. Piper had liked all their ideas. Hey, she was totally social. However, her dream evening was staying at home—a fireplace with low flames, sharing drinks and snuggling together on a comfy couch. Reading together. And sex. Surely, there was a man out there she’d actually want to have sex with. Someone who would make her girl-parts tingle.

  Someone who would love her as much as she’d love him. Would care for her.

  Someone she could serve.

  Wait, no. Not that. What was she thinking? As jitters scraped over her nerves, she pulled a pillow into her arms. She didn’t want to serve a man. Okay, tending to people filled a need, but that was people. Not one man. Not a Master. Never again. Uh-uh. Looking after others was her career now, not something to give for free. Or for love.

  Hopes or not, she might not be capable of having a healthy relationship. Not anymore. She wasn’t cynical about love. Some people, inside and outside the lifestyle, found wonderful partners. Look at Stan and Dixon. But maybe it wasn’t for her.

  Because I’m worthless.

  No, no, that wasn’t true. She scowled, determinedly replacing the thought with healthier ones. I’m worthy. I’m smart and kind, and I run a fantastic business and make great cookies and have amazing friends.

  Her time as a slave had left her pretty messed up. Then again, her self-confidence hadn’t been rock-solid before the Defiler—not since Piper was ten and Mom married super-religious Gideon. Although this was the twenty-first century where unwed moth
ers were a dime a dozen, her stepfather had been repulsed that Piper was born out of wedlock. Just by existing, Piper had exposed her mother’s shameful behavior—and Gideon’s son would point out Piper’s bastard status at every opportunity.

  Gideon had been polite but cold. Eventually, her mother had followed suit.

  It’d hurt to know she wasn’t wanted.

  That was then; this is now. Scowling, she pulled herself out of her pity party. So she just had to work harder to appreciate herself. And, face it, she was pretty damn cool.

  Speaking of cool… She went into the kitchen and scanned the tiny cartons in the freezer. There—vanilla ice cream with chocolate chunks. Sweet with something to crunch on.

  Dammit, why couldn’t Brian have lit up her libido? He was fully as good-looking as Sir Ethan. But, nope. Even when Brian had held her hand, put his arm around her, and nuzzled her neck, she felt no sizzle.

  Whereas merely a look from Sir Ethan had sent excitement shooting through her. Oh, he’d scared her, too. But at this safe distance, she could admit the damn Dominant had turned her on.

  He’d known that she was scared of him.

  She’d amused him.

  Scowling, she scooped up a bite of ice cream. As the sweet vanilla melted in her mouth, she bit down on the dark chocolate chunks.

  Like an ogre chewing on bones.

  Crunch, crunch. Take that, Sir Ethan.

  On second thought, she was angrier with herself than him. Her attempt to stand up to him had left her almost puking with fear. It just wasn’t fair that the only men who had the right chemistry for her were scary-ass Dominants.

  Slumping back on the couch, she took another big bite of ice cream.

  Maybe she should see about getting help. There was no question that her unhappy childhood followed by the Defiler had left her with issues. When first in SF, she’d had counseling, but stopped the minute the therapist sounded disapproving of BDSM. Maybe she should try again with a more open-minded therapist.