CATCH (The Billionaire's Rules, Book 14)

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© 2016 by Kelly Favor

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I
can’t do this
.

Lanie tried to breathe but her throat felt closed.

I can’t. I cant.

She’d been blindfolded. And the darkness was total, complete.

Even though she knew intellectually that the piece of cloth could easily be untied or removed, her fear was mounting. Growing until it was something closer to terror.

“Lanie,” Brayden said, his voice startlingly close.

“Yes?” she said, her voice tiny, squeaking with anxiety.

“Calm down,” he said. “You’re breathing very fast and we haven’t even started yet.”

I can’t do this. This is too much.

But how to explain it to him? She felt humiliated at the prospect of telling Brayden Forman that she was afraid of the dark.

What a silly, silly fear. And this wasn’t even like being locked in a dark closet or something. She was merely blindfolded.

This would surely be the last straw and Brayden would realize that she wasn’t worth the effort.

“Do I have to be blindfolded?” she said. Her hands clenched.

“Is it a problem?”

Yes. Yes. Yes, it’s a problem.

“I’m just…I don’t understand what’s going on,” Lanie replied, and her voice sounded far less panicked to her ears than she in fact felt.

Get this fucking thing off of me. I can’t see. Help me.

“Lanie, relax and sit back,” Brayden said. “No more questions.”

She felt movement and realized that he’d begun driving once again, and that he expected her to actually sit there, in the dark, for however long he wanted her to sit like that.

How dare you?
She thought, even as she knew there was no way he could suspect her phobia.

She tried to just relax. Lanie knew she was safe with Brayden, but no matter how much she told herself that, all she could feel was the pounding in her chest, the sweat on her forehead, the shaking inside, and the sudden certainty that she couldn’t breathe.

Her hands reached up to touch the silky cloth of the blindfold.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice taking on a commanding tone that stopped her from moving further.

“Brayden, I don’t feel well.”

“Just be patient,” he said.

“But—“

“Everything’s fine. You need to let go.”

But she couldn’t breathe. The darkness was total.

I’m all alone. All alone.

Please, no. Don’t leave me here.

Her hands went to the blindfold as if they had a mind of their own.

“Lanie, dammit.” His voice was unforgiving.

Only, she didn’t care, because her fear was far too powerful to resist, no matter how much she wanted to make Brayden happy. Lanie ripped the blindfold off, blinking, reassuring herself that she could in fact still see.

There was the road in front of her, and the headlights of cars driving past in the other lane, the red break lights of the cars directly in front of them.

She turned and saw Brayden’s stern, disbelieving expression.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I don’t feel well. I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her and then back to the road ahead. His jaw twitched. “You should not have done that.” His voice was flat.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

She shrugged, but the acidic tone of his voice made her stomach twist.

You should tell him the truth.

Lanie imagined herself telling Brayden that she was scared of the dark, but the words wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t weak, he wasn’t frightened of things.

He would laugh, tell her she was being silly and he would see it as weakness.

It was weakness.

Lanie hated that she was so scared of so much in this world. But telling Brayden Forman about her childhood fears was not something she could bring herself to do.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

When Lanie finally spoke, her tone was one of sharp frustration. “I told you I don’t feel well. Now please, can we drop it? I don’t have to be blindfolded, do I? Because if I need to be blindfolded to continue this—whatever this is—then you should just turn the car around now and take me home.”

Brayden’s lips twisted as if to smirk, but in the end he just nodded. “You’ve made yourself quite clear.”

He shifted the car into a lower gear as the traffic slowed, but then the right lane began moving more quickly and Brayden jerked the steering wheel, moving into that lane. He shifted gears and hit the gas, and then they were driving fast.

Their car moved through the traffic, easily maneuvering in and out, between the other cars, with Brayden shifting gears, turning the wheel expertly, and then they hit the open road and he dropped into the next gear, letting the engine out.

They picked up even more speed.

Lanie’s heart was racing, but she wasn’t afraid of this. In fact, she sort of was enjoying it. Yes, they were going fast—certainly well above the speed limit—but she could
see
everything that was happening.

And Brayden was so totally in control of it all, like his body was one with the car, just an extension of it. He moved in concert with what he needed the vehicle to do, coaxing the exact responses from it that he needed.

For some reason, watching Brayden drive was getting her wet.

She’d begun forgetting about the frightening darkness, the blindfold, and instead she was appreciating the sensations of the car, the road, and this sexy man next to her in his gorgeous suit and his glittering Rolex.

They weren’t speaking, whether by design or by mutual agreement.

She didn’t feel the need to even speak.

Finally, they pulled up to the curb near a group of buildings that seemed empty. But there were some other fancy cars parked here and there along the road.

Other than that, the street was remarkably empty. It seemed as though they were in an industrial area that was quiet or closed this time of night.

“Where are we?” she asked.

Brayden turned towards her. “I told you, no questions. If you continue to ignore my directions, then I really will turn the car around and take you home. I’m starting to think maybe that’s what you’d like me to do.”

She shook her head. “No.” She licked her lips. “I’m just a little nervous, Brayden.”

He gave her the ghost of a smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

And then he was getting out of the car, walking around and opening her door like a gentleman.

But where were they?

She had no idea.

It was only when she stepped out of the car that Lanie realized she could hear music dimply thumping from nearby. It was difficult to tell where the music was originating from, but obviously this was some sort of exclusive dance club.

She smiled, a little relieved. She could dance, especially if she had a drink or two. She tugged at her skirt, trying to relieve the feeling that she was wearing practically nothing.

Of course, that’s what Brayden had told her to wear.

As little as possible.

The wind blew and she felt goose bumps spring up all over her body.

Brayden’s hand touched her lower back and Lanie shivered yet again from his touch. “Come,” he said. And then he escorted her around the corner, and now there was an open door where the sound filtered out.

Standing in front of the open door, were two large men wearing dark suits and earpieces. They nodded at Brayden in recognition.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Brayden said, quickly handing each of them a folded hundred dollar bill.

“Evening, Sir,” one of them said.

Neither of them acknowledged her presence in the least.

As they walked inside the doorway, they entered a dim hallway. There was a smell, too, she decided. It smelled of old wood, leather, polish.

Like some sort of old library or fancy room that people didn’t often use.

Down the dark hallway, a strobe light pulsed rhythmically, and the music grew louder.

Brayden glanced at her. “How are you feeling?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.

“Okay,” she said. “Better.”

“Good.”

They continued walking.

Seconds later, Lanie saw something she wasn’t prepared for. A man in a dapper suit was leading a naked woman around by a leash. She was on all fours, her toned, bare ass up in the air as she crawled at his feet like a dog. She was wearing a collar and a black mask over her head.

They walked away and rounded another turn in the hallway, the strobe light flickering dreamlike, turning their gait into something herky-jerky, like a film that was skipping.

Lanie turned to Brayden. “What the hell is this place?” she said, her voice strangled.

His eyes were dark and his voice was calm, but firm. “Trust me.”

“This is some kind of sick…fetish house.”

Brayden’s lips curled into a bemused grin. “Come.” He placed his hand on her lower back once more and ushered her onward.

She didn’t know what kept her walking forward.

This was too strange. This wasn’t the kind of place she should be on a first date.

If that’s what this even was.

Did he expect her to have sex with random strangers here? Was this a brothel? Something even more perverse?

Lanie shook her head imperceptibly as she walked past a room with an open door, and inside, she glimpsed an older, heavyset, nude man with a droopy mustache having his genitals whipped by a leather clad woman holding a belt with fringes on it.

The man had a huge erection as she whipped her fringy implement across his penis.

Lanie turned away and gripped Brayden’s arm.

Was he going to ask her to do something like that to his dick? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. No.

That was beyond the pale.

Finally, they stopped at a door with the number seven on it, and Brayden pulled out a silver skeleton key and opened the door.

Lanie was praying that there wouldn’t be anyone else in the room. Whatever else this might be, she didn’t want to see anyone else.

But the room was empty, thankfully.

Brayden hit the light switch, and a swirling overhead light spun different colors across the room in a slow arc.

The room was upholstered in silk, all sashes and flowing curtains, only there were no discernable windows. Along the wall, there was a couch, red, plush. A chain hung down from the ceiling, and also a swing near the back wall.

There was something that looked like a large treasure chest against the left wall.

And there were mirrors placed judiciously around the room, making the room appear larger than it truly was.

“I don’t like it here,” she said.

Brayden smiled as he closed the door and locked it behind them. “You haven’t had a chance yet to appreciate it.”

“Why did you bring me? This is a sex club. Right?” She challenged him to answer, folding her arms.

“I told you not to ask questions,” Brayden said, shaking his head, as if mystified that she would continue trying to understand where they were. He walked to a small round table upon which a chilled bottle of champagne sat, along with two long, fragile glasses. “Have a drink,” he said, pulling out the bottle and pouring it to fill each glass.

Then he put the bottle back into the bucket of ice and carried the glasses over to her.

The light swirled, but she was growing more accustomed to it now.

Dimly, she could hear the music from outside the room, the pounding bass.

“Is there a dance floor nearby? Where’s the music coming from?” she asked. “Oops,” she smiled, giggling a little. “I wasn’t supposed to ask questions. I forgot.”

“Drink,” Brayden said, stifling a grin. He downed half of his champagne in one gulp.

Lanie sipped at the bubbly liquid and found it to be quite smooth. She was grateful for the taste and feel as it slid down her dry throat. She drank quickly.

Brayden nodded his approval. “I’ll get you another glass,” he said, walking back to the table and pouring.

She admired his shoulders, the way his cheek looked in profile, the strength of his posture. He was so in control of himself, so in command of the situation.

Of her.

It relaxed her a little to know that whatever this place was, Brayden was taking care of things and seemed to know what he was doing.

But what did he have planned?

What had he meant when he said they were entering “the next phase” of their relationship?

She wanted to ask him, but knew he wouldn’t approve.

Brayden came back and handed her the glass. Their fingertips brushed and she felt that familiar thrill.

He was so close, standing in front of her, his handsome face exquisite, his eyes mysterious and somehow much more adult and formidable than she’d seen him look previously.

Is this who Brayden Forman really is--this serious man in his suit, with his shiny Rolex and his dark eyes?

The other guy is an act, a character he puts on for show. The funny laid back guy who runs around the Hookup office acting like a frat boy.

But this—this is the
real
Brayden, the man beneath the actor. And he’s hot, too. Maybe even hotter because he’s so intense and serious.

But what does he want from me?

“This is good champagne. At least, I think it is,” she said, realizing she wasn’t exactly a connoisseur.

Brayden smiled. “It’s from my personal collection. Glad you like it.” He walked to the table and put his glass down. When he turned towards her once more, his eyes were hungry. “Now we have to get down to business, Lanie.” He unbuttoned his blazer and then slowly removed it, draping it over the back of a tall chair.

“Business?” she said. “I’m confused.”

“Clearly,” Brayden smirked, beginning now to roll up his sleeves. His movements were calculated and precise. His muscular forearms bulged as he continued to roll up his shirtsleeves, almost to his elbows. “So let me make sense of things for you, Lanie.”

“That would be nice.”

“I’m not going to fuck you. Ever.”