Caught: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (His Domination Book 2) (12 page)

“You could say that.”

Henry sighed into his phone, and Monica heard the creak of his chair as he sat at his presumably messy desk. “I hope that I haven’t done anything to lose your trust.”

“Of course not. You’ve been an absolute gentleman.”

“Minus the part where I spank your ass raw and fuck you against public walls.”

To that Monica smiled. “Who said a gentleman doesn’t do that?”

“Nobody. But I’m not deluded into thinking I’ll make all your problems go away. What do they call it in those books and movies? The ‘healing cock’?”

Neither of them laughed. “You could help me. Maybe not get over him, but move on. Learn to love all those things again. Trust somebody.”

Don’t put too much pressure on him.
Ethan had warned about that as well. “What things, Monica?”

The way he said it… purred her name right into the receiver… sent shivers of ecstatic hope through every neuron in Monica’s body. Her own phone shook in her hand, rattling against a curler. “You know what things.”

“I’m sure our imaginations are veering in different directions. I can’t read your mind. Look out your window and see your prince bumbling on a thin string of rope, and that’s me. Either throw me a thicker rope or start heaving me in with your own brute strength. Go on. Either method works for me.”

Monica wanted to laugh at the image. “Not here on the phone. Besides, you’ve already made me waste some of this paper. I’ll write you a list of the things I want to do with you.”

“Christmas isn’t for another few months yet. Santa Claus can only do so much right now.”

“I don’t want Santa Claus.” Monica cleared her throat. “I want you, Henry.”

Him, his body, his kindness, his dry wit, and the rough and easy way he made love to her. Even before he spoke again, Monica was already writing something down on her paper to mail to him the next day.

“You want more than me. You want what I do to you, Monica.”

“Yes. I want your domination.” Her mouth was dry. “Because I’m a sub, Henry. I want to serve you. And I want to know that I can trust you with my life and world.”

“Of course. Well, get that list to me. And I look forward to seeing you on Friday.”

He said it so easily. So casually. It was moments like those that made Monica wonder if he was that self-assured or not taking her seriously.

“I look forward to it too. I…” The words caught in her throat. “I’m quite fond of you.”

“And I’m quite fond of you.”

They hung up.

Monica stared at the paper in front of her. Just as she picked up her pen again, there was a knock at the door.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” It was Sylvia, helping herself into Monica’s chambers and office without being invited.
Well, then.
“I really need to talk to you.”

Monica flipped her paper over and sat back. “Sure. Have a seat.” Poor Sylvia had been begging for an audience for a while now, but their schedules had yet to sync up. The girl looked like she was about to burst if she didn’t get out whatever was eating her up inside.

“Sorry, again.”

“Anyway?”

Even with the curlers stuck in her hair, and her silk bathrobe covering not much of anything, Monica attempted to look like the boss she was meant to be. Not that she wanted to look
intimidating…
but Sylvia was a girl who responded best to a firmer hand. Or mouth, in Monica’s case.

“It’s about Mr. Carlisle, ma’am.”

“What about him? Did he do something unsavory?” This was it. The day Monica dreaded. The day a patron got himself kicked out.

Yet Sylvia was doing her damndest to contain a smile from blooming on her rosy cheeks. “Mr. Carlisle has asked me to marry him.”

If Monica were still holding her pen, she would have dropped it. “Excuse me?”

“Two weeks ago. He took me out on a date and, well, asked me to marry him!” Sylvia slapped her hand down on the table, revealing a monster rock on her finger. How long had she been hiding
that?
And how had Sylvia contained that piece of news from the other girls? “Isn’t it amazing? I guess dreams do come true sometimes.”

“Yes.” Monica forced a smile. “Congratulations. I will have to have a talk to Mr. Carlisle about these turn of events.”

Meanwhile, the smile on Sylvia’s face disappeared. “I thought it would be okay… look, ma’am, we won’t be getting married for at least a few months so you can find a replacement… and it’s not like I’m going to stop working…”

“No, no.” Monica drummed her fingers against her desk. “I’m happy for you. I simply need to work out the details between you and him.” Another forced smile. “Again, congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

Giggling, Sylvia hopped out of her seat and waved at Monica before going back to the halls of the Château. Monica remained sitting at her desk, the paper still turned over and her brain exploding with memories of the day Jackson asked her to move in with him. Never to marry him.

Chapter 9

Iced

The last time Monica was monetarily spoiled like this she bought a Château and stocked it with BDSM-loving women ready to make that money back.

“How about this one, Miss?” A docile woman in her early 20s knelt in front of Monica’s dais and showed her a dark purple gown covered in sparkling sequins. Made by anyone else and it would look like a tacky prom dress. Styled by M. Francisco, the latest and hottest designer from Italy? It was a gorgeous piece meant for charity dinners or a wild night on the town.

Monica fingered the material and decided it was too scratchy for her skin. “Thank you, though. It’s a lovely color. Do you have something like that, but in silk or satin? Cotton voile?”

“Certainly.” The girl got up and hustled to the back of the dress shop, where she stopped to confer with a woman older than her on where she might find such garments.

So far Monica only had one purchase, and this was after trying on gowns for about an hour. Her choice of the moment was a deep red Queen Anne dress that cutoff at the knees and had a hem of black Chantilly lace. Bonus: she already had the perfect pair of red and black heels to go with it, as well as the gold jewelry to accent it.

Standing a few feet away was Henry, having decided to stay close but stay out of Monica’s way as she found new and exciting ways to spend his money. At first Monica vehemently turned down the opportunity to go shopping with Henry’s credit card. Yet the moment they entered the city he brought it up again, insisting that they stop at a boutique or two.

“Why?” Monica had asked, content to pass through the city and go straight to his mansion. “I have plenty of dresses and shoes. My closet is practically overflowing with cocktail and cotton dresses. They’re all I wear, Henry. If you ever see me in pants, check my temperature.”

“You may have a lot of dresses,” he said, pulling out his wallet and thumbing through his myriad of golden credit cards, “but none of them came from me.”

Monica liked the red dress because it went with the shawl Henry gave her on their first supposed date. Oh, and because she looked great in a nice red dress. But she couldn’t live with only red. And if she only bought red, Henry would give her a hard time about that as well.

“My dear,” Henry said, leaning against the wall and flipping through slides on his smart phone. “Come here.”

Monica, standing alone on her dais while the girls of the shop looked for things in her petite size, turned to him with bemusement on her face. “Everything all right?”

“They will be the faster you get over here.”

With her shoes already off, Monica hopped off the dais and went to him, her eyes darting around the room in case someone was watching. Unless Henry wanted to show her something on his phone screen, who knew what he would ask of her.

“Am I taking too long?”

“I don’t care how long you take.” He put his phone in his front jacket pocket. “Just as long as we make our dinner reservations at seven. Until then, who cares?”

“As long as you’re not bored.”

“Around you?” He leaned down and pressed his head against the top of hers. “How could I possibly be bored? Now…” His hand appeared between them, palm up, fingers wiggling in expectation. “Give me your underwear.”

“What?”

Henry’s voice, as deep as it was expecting, rumbled into Monica’s ear. “I told you to give me your underwear. Or are you a bad girl who isn’t wearing any?”

A smile tugged at her lips. “I’m wearing a dress. Of course I’m wearing them.”

“Excellent. Give them to me.”

“Why?”

She looked at him with the expectation that he would tell her exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Because I told you to. Or should I punish you later?”

“No, sir.” Monica looked around the room, making sure that none of the staff were back yet. She pressed herself against the dark corner of the gallery and reached beneath her skirt. “You realize that I have to try on dresses here, right?”

“Yup.”

Well, that was one way for a man to enjoy himself while his girlfriend shopped with his credit card.

Monica waited for him to shield her before she slipped out of her silk panties and shoved them into his waiting hand. With a smirk the size of the sun on his smug face, Henry stuffed the silk into the same pocket he held his smart phone in. He crossed his arms across his chest and pretended to find the crown molding of the boutique fascinating as one of the shop girls came back with a white dress tossed across her arm.

Even though she wore a slip through her taking off and putting on, Monica was still acutely aware of the lack of clothing between her legs. While she pulled off her current dress and put on the white one, she thought of Henry standing at the entrance, holding her underwear in his pocket as if he owned them.
Today he does.
Ah, now it all made sense.

The way he asked for them.

How insistent he was on buying her clothes that day.

Now, how he gazed at her as she twirled in a white chiffon gown that looked like it could be a wedding dress at a golf club.
What a way to get married.
Monica stopped and laughed, the girl looking at her as if she were loony while Henry held in a laugh of his own.

He does own me.
He was dressing her up like the princess he was going to kidnap and have his way with. This meant that while Monica
should
find something she enjoyed wearing, this was more about Henry’s tastes than hers.
Find something that knocks his socks off.
She turned down the white gown because it was too frou-frou for her seductive style.
I need to make him hard the moment he gets a look at me.

“Bring me something black,” she told the girl. Before she departed to the back room, Monica took her by the wrist and brought her in close. “Something sexy.”

The girl took a look at Henry and then back to Monica again. She nodded, her feet whisking her to that back room again with the white dress in tow. Monica didn’t want to look like a fairy princess. She wanted to bedeck herself in a gown fitting a sultry one.

She stood in nothing but her half-slip and bra, her delicate curls resting on her bare skin and falling before her face. At first she didn’t mind avoiding the mirror, but then she caught a glimpse of it, and inside the reflection was Henry gazing at her in the hungriest way imaginable.

Chills shook her body. Suddenly Monica was
very
aware of her breasts pushed up in her lacy pink bra, the one she put on that day to entice him when he would undoubtedly start undressing her that evening. She never counted on being taken to a boutique and put on display in front of him.
Nobody batted an eyelash when she stayed behind as I started changing clothes.
Perhaps the staff people here automatically assumed they were a couple. Did they look and act like one? Henry certainly put his protective hands on her more than once.

Ah, Monica had forgotten how exciting it could be… this paraded around business.

Men liked to show off their money. They liked showing off their business conquests. And they definitely liked showing off their women. Especially those alpha Doms with nothing better to do than take over other companies and then carry their subs around.

It sounded so animalistic. So primal. So what Monica needed – and wrote in her missive to Henry two days ago.

She saw him take it out now. A single piece of paper he kept in a different pocket. With pen in hand, he crossed something on the list off. Monica didn’t know what it could possibly be.

“Here, Miss!” The girl returned, carrying two different black dresses. She held them up in front of Monica. One was a svelte mermaid that would more than adequately hug her curves. Monica looked it over for a while, fingertips feeling the soft fabric and debating whether or not the restrictive movement would be worth it.

Then her eyes went to the other dress.

A short, flared skirt supported a high-neck and strapless bodice that, when Monica looked closer, sported a keyhole on the chest. She plucked that dress from the girl’s arm and held it to her body. “I’ll try this one on.”