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“Hi,” I breathed, and immediately hated myself for sounding so pathetic. I’d sounded breathy, flirty. Like I should be some air-headed bimbo with one name. Veronica. Bambi, with a heart over the “I.”
 

“Good morning, Kyrie. Feeling refreshed?” He smiled at me, warm and friendly, yet his eyes betrayed amusement, promise, memory of what I’d done to him less than an hour earlier.

“Yes, thanks.” I leaned over to peek into his cup. “Tea? Or coffee?”

He swirled the khaki liquid in his cup. “Tea. Earl Grey, with a touch of milk.” He lifted the cup and saucer toward me. “Care for a cup?”

The fact that he was a tea drinker served as a reminder that he was actually from England. It was easy to forget, so faint was his accent. I’d never tried tea English-style. “Can I try a sip of yours? I’ve never had tea before. Not the way you’re drinking it, at least.”

He placed the cup on the saucer and held it out to me. “Old habits die hard. I’ve never been able to get into drinking coffee in the morning. I don’t really do the whole ‘afternoon tea’ bit anymore, but I’ve got to have a cup of Earl Grey to start the day.”

I sipped at his tea, surprised by how much I liked it. “Mmmm. That’s pretty good, actually. I’ll try a cup, the way you have it.” I gave him his tea back, expecting him to summon Eliza to make mine. “I forget you’re from England sometimes. You don’t really sound like it, most of the time.”

“That’s intentional. I worked rather hard to eradicate my accent.” He rose and went into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and withdrew a cup and saucer like his, took a quart of half-and-half from the fridge, tipped a tiny bit into the teacup, and then poured tea from a pot sitting on the stove. “Here you are,” he said, setting it front of me.

“Thanks,” I said, a bit mystified. I hadn’t expected him to get my tea himself. “I could have done that, you know. I thought—”

Roth spoke over me. “Eliza is not my personal servant, Kyrie. I only have her serve meals on special occasions. Usually she just leaves food out for me, since I work long and erratic hours. I fend for myself most of the time. Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I’m unable to do things for myself, you know.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Roth.” I sipped at my tea. It was good, but I didn’t think it would ever replace my need for coffee. “Anyway. You said we had a busy day today. What are we doing?”

He grinned at me. “Well, since we’ve discarded the blindfold, I thought we’d do something fun together. Have you ever been sailing?”
 

I shook my head, feeling excitement thrill through me. “No, I haven’t. I’ve always wanted to, though.”

Roth’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful! This should be an enjoyable time, then.” He eyed my outfit. “That should be fine for sailing, and I have a bathing suit for you on the boat. Some breakfast, then, and we’ll head out. What would you like to eat?”

I shrugged. “A bagel? I don’t eat much in the mornings.”
 

I slipped off my chair, but Roth waved me back down. “Sit, Kyrie,” he ordered. “What kind of bagel? We have a variety.”

“Sesame?”
 

“Toasted? Cream cheese?”
 

I nodded, and watched him as he cut two thick bagels in half, then stuck the halves in a four-slot toaster. “Why are you making my breakfast for me?”

He leaned back against the counter, sipping at his tea. “Because I can. And because I want to.” He looked past me, out the window. “This house has been empty but for Eliza and me. Having you here is a wonderful change.”

“Eliza said something very similar.”

Roth looked surprised. “She did?”

“Yeah. She said she was lonely a lot, and having me around was nice. I like her. I think we could be friends.”

“That’s surprising. Eliza is…very private and reserved. Much like me. That’s why we get along so well, I think.” He gestured at me with his cup and saucer. “That she seems to like you is a good sign. I trust her judgment in many things, especially people.”

The bagels popped up at that moment, and he smeared cream cheese on each of the halves with a spoon and then returned to the table, setting the plate between us. We each took a half and ate in silence. It was supremely strange, to be having breakfast with this man, sharing such an intimate, domestic thing as a bagel and cream cheese. It felt natural, as if we’d always done this. Again, I felt a bolt of fear at how much I liked this feeling, this easy comfort with a man I barely knew.
 

When we were finished, Roth cleaned up for us both and then took my hand. “Ready to go?” I nodded. “Do you need anything? A purse?”

I shrugged. “Not really.”

Roth seemed surprised at this. “All right, then. Let’s go.” He brought me to the door to his private quarters, held his finger to the plate, and then shoved the door open.
 

Beyond was a wide hallway with high ceilings, thick cream carpet, and dark wood-paneled walls, which were lined with black-and-white photographs. I paused to examine the photos. They were amazing, artistic, vividly focused. The subjects ranged from portraits to landscapes, most of them taken in Asia. There was a photo of an old Chinese woman, a scarf covering her head, wisps of gray hair sticking out around her ears, her toothless mouth grinning, eyes crinkled. There was a tall, curved-roof pagoda, a rice paddy, an ox with shaggy fur and baleful eyes, and then several more portraits. It wasn’t until I realized that Roth was watching me examine the photos with a blank expression that I thought to look at the bottom right corner. There, written in white marker or pen, was the same scribbled “VR” signature from the checks.
 

“You took these?” I asked.

He nodded. “A hobby, you could say. Something I haven’t had much time for lately, much to my regret.”

“They’re amazing,” I told him, sincerely impressed. “That first one, the old woman, it’s like something you’d see in
National Geographic
. It’s really good, Roth.”

He smiled at me. “Thank you, Kyrie.” He took my hand and pulled me forward, and I followed him, although there were several more photographs I wanted to see.

Later, perhaps. If I was lucky. We passed a few open doorways, one leading to a half-bath, another to what looked like a security room, monitors showing security camera views of the foyer, the kitchens, the library, the main garage, two elevators, another garage, and the roof. No surveillance of my rooms, though, but there were blacked-out monitors, so it was hard to say.
 

Roth followed my gaze to the security room. “There are no cameras in your quarters, I promise you. You have your privacy there.”

I only shrugged. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he watched me on a camera while I slept, and I wondered at myself, at the fact that I wouldn’t have been too pissed off had there been cameras in my rooms. I mean, if he’d watched me pee, that would be a bit weird, but I didn’t expect it from him. He was security-paranoid, not creepy.

Another door showed a large office, the same thick cream carpeting, a huge dark desk with a massive iMac, and a floor-to-ceiling wall of windows. There was an exercise room, a hallway dead-ending at a doorway and, opposite that, a pair of French doors, beyond which was Roth’s room. I caught a glimpse of it in passing, and realized it was probably the most impressive room in the house. It was a corner room, so two entire walls were glass, with a balcony at the apex of the corner. The bed, from what I saw, was huge, dark, and built into a platform. I didn’t see much more than that before Roth guided me down the dead-end hallway to the door.

“I’ll give you a tour of my rooms later,” Roth told me, his voice buzzing in my ear.
 

I turned, halfway out the door. “Promise?”
 

His eyes narrowed, flicked down to my cleavage and back up. “Yes, Kyrie. You will become
very
well-acquainted with my bedroom.”

I shivered, felt my nipples harden. “Sailing can wait, don’t you think?”

Roth’s grin was predatory. “Eager suddenly, are you?” His hand curled around my waist, and he jerked me against him. My breath left me in a whoosh. I was assaulted by the familiar spicy scent of his cologne, the hard breadth of his chest. “Are you tempting me? Trying to get control of this situation?”

“Eager….” I breathed, barely able to stutter out the word.
 

His eyes were intense, pale hot blue, his hand splayed on my waist and the swell of my ass, crushing me to him. “Eager, hmmm?”

“Yes,” I answered, looking up at him, my eyes wide, my breath shallow and short.
 

His other hand brushed my hair away from my eyes, then slid down my back. Found the zipper of my dress. “I think you’re trying to prove something.”

“I’m not.”

“The power of your seductive beauty is undeniable, Kyrie.” His fingers drew the zipper down, the rough pad of his fingertip tracing up my now-bare spine. “You make me lose control when I start touching you. When you put your hands on me, I forget myself.” He brushed the sleeves off, and the dress billowed to the floor, pooled around my feet. “But don’t think you can control me that way, Kyrie. I
let
you have your moment this morning. It had been a long time since I’d felt a woman’s touch. I’d been saving myself for you. But don’t think you can manipulate me with your body.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Tell me the truth, Kyrie.”

I swallowed. “Maybe I was, just…trying to see what effect I had on you. That’s all. Not control, just…assessing.” The heat in his eyes, the thinly veiled anger frightened me. He wouldn’t hurt me, but what
would
he do?

 
“Assessing.” He flicked open my bra, pulled it off. Set it aside. Hooked a finger in the elastic of my panties at my hip, tugged them down around my thighs. “Off. I want you naked.”

I stepped out of them, stood before him totally naked. Breathless, waiting. He shut the door, pivoted behind me, and pushed me across the hallway and into his room. Positioned in the middle of the room, I was bathed in a square of brilliant midmorning sunlight. I stood still, back straight, forcing my breathing to be even, to seem confident, unafraid.
 

“So now you’re just eager?” Roth moved around behind me, not touching, but close. So close. Too close, yet too far, too clothed. “Who is in control, Kyrie?”

I felt rebellion surge up in my gut. I clenched my teeth together. I wasn’t going to play this game. Not this one.
 

“Seeking punishment, are you?” His voice rumbled in my ear. “I’ll ask once more. Who is control? Who controls you, Kyrie? Answer me.”

You
. That was the answer. I knew it. He knew it. But I refused to say it. Rebellion, or curiosity? Both, maybe. Equal parts defiance and desire.

“Not going to respond?” I heard a smile in his voice. “I was kind of hoping you’d refuse.”

His foot slid between mine and knocked at my feet so I was suddenly and unwillingly standing with my feet shoulder-width apart. Another nudge, and my stance widened a bit more. Unnatural, uncomfortable, vulnerable. I bit my lip and forced myself to remain calm. I’d asked for this, after all.
 

“At any time, answer my question, and we’ll go sailing. That really was my intention, you know. But you’ve sidetracked us.” He slid his hand over my hip, curled his palm over my belly, pulled my ass against his crotch so I felt his erection. “You’re not getting what you wanted, you know. I’m not going to alter my plans. Right now I’m going to torture you, just a bit. Nothing painful, mind you. Just a bit of…teasing.”

He pulled away, took a handful of my hair, gripping at my nape, and shoved my head down so I was bent over double.
 

“Hands on your knees.” I needed to brace myself for balance, so I had no choice but to do as he’d told me. “Now, I’ll ask you again, Kyrie. Who is in control?”

I remained silent.

He laughed, and trailed a finger down the knobs of my spine, between the globes of my buttocks, over the bud of muscle. He hesitated there. “No answer?” His fingertip touched me, and I flinched, tensed. “I wonder if I could make you come, just by touching you here? Let’s find out, shall we?”

A pause, and I heard him spit. Wetness touched me; the pressure increased slightly. I felt the knot give just a bit, and his lubricated fingertip slid in. I bit back a gasp, forced my hips to remain still. He would get no help from me, not this time. Roth’s fingertip wiggled, and I felt a tension in my core, heat building. I squeezed my eyes shut, bit my lip, tried to hold back the thrill of pleasure at his touch. I shouldn’t like this. But I did. I couldn’t let him know, though.
 

He withdrew his finger a bit, so there was only the very smallest edge left in me. His other hand released my hair and reached down to cup my boob, squeezing, holding, and then letting go to pinch my nipple. I felt the heat and pressure rise at his touch, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted from me. I’d come, but I wouldn’t admit what he wanted.

Roth pushed his finger in deeper, and a gasp was torn from me. I felt full, felt his thick finger penetrating me, creating a boiling well of fiery pressure at my core. A faint tinge of desperation touched me. He flicked my nipple, pulled his finger back, and my stomach muscles contracted, my hips rolling of their own accord. Another push, deeper now. Most of his finger had to be inside me now. I gritted my teeth to hold back the gasps and moans that threatened at my lips. He withdrew almost all the way, and then slid in again, repeating the motion, and I had to exert every ounce of will to stop myself from moving with him. His finger fucked my asshole in smooth, slow strokes, and his hand caressed and kneaded and pinched at my breast and nipples, and I was growing needy, feeling frantic. I needed more than this. I needed him. I needed him to put his fingers in my pussy, I needed his cock, I needed his mouth, I needed
something.
What I got, though, was desperation flooding through me, his finger in my ass bringing me to the verge of a dark and primal climax.
 

And then…he stopped. Pulled his finger out of me, left me bent over in the middle of his bedroom. I straightened and pulled my feet back together, gasping, frantic and angry with need and frustration and shame, aching, and watched him go through a door, where I heard water running as he washed his hands.