Controlling Interest (2 page)

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I can make it worth
your while.”

She cocked her head at him, raised her brows and crossed her
arms.

He opened his mouth to argue then closed it again, turning
to the lawyer. “Okay, what did Mother do?”

The lawyer took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead
with it. “If Miss Vincent forfeits her inheritance by violating the terms of
the will, you also forfeit your inheritance.”

“Which means?”

“Your mother left you the bulk of her estate.
Both
of
you must abide by the terms of the will or you
both
lose…everything.
Your inheritance will go to charity instead.”

“And my club?”

“The shares for your club will be sold by this firm to the
highest bidder—but that bidder may not be you.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Yes, you are,” Mouse muttered.

“You just called my mother a bitch.”

Mouse laughed. “She was and she knew it. In fact, she
considered it a badge of honor.”

Tor chuckled. “You’re right. She did.” Their gazes met, and
Mouse felt it right down to her toes. “I can stand it, if you can,” he growled.

“Stand it?”

“Working with me at the club.”

“Oh right. I’m sure I can manage. I was a good assistant to
your mother.”

His brows shot up. “You aren’t the assistant anymore,
darlin’ Mouse. You’re an owner.”

Her belly tightened. She wasn’t just
an
owner… “I’m
your boss now. Aren’t I, Tor?”

He winced. “It would seem so.”

“It is so, Mr. Stuart. Ms. Vincent is indeed the primary
owner of your…um…club.” Mouse frowned as the older man grew flustered.

“What’s the name of it again?”

The lawyer studied her and she gained the impression from
the intensity of his stare that he was trying to decide if she was playing some
game. She wasn’t. She couldn’t remember anything after she found out Regine
left her the townhouse.

“The club is called,” he tugged the neckline of his shirt
and again mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “um…Erotically Bound. It is a
rather special sort of club.”

Tor smiled for the first time since the big announcement.
“Special indeed. That’s a genteel way of putting it.”

“I don’t understand. Is it a strip club or something?”

“Or something…” the lawyer muttered, glancing at Tor.

She shook her head. “It either is or it isn’t.”

Tor cleared his throat. “It’s a private—
members only
—BDSM
club.”

Mouse blinked then she began to blush. “You mean like whips
and tying people up?”

“Still interested in being my boss?” Tor grinned.

She straightened. “I can handle it. Can you?”

“For six months, I can be the submissive.”

She put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down.
“You? Submissive? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and the warmth he always hid
behind his tough exterior showed through.

“Smart girl.”

Why did he have to be so damn hot? And why did she have to
want him so much? She’d just received her heart’s desire posthumously from
Regine—a home to call her own and the money to live well. Why did she have to
want more than that? Like receiving the fulfillment of a desire from a whole
lot further south than her heart.

“Ms. Vincent, I have a message and a letter for you from
Mrs. Stuart.”

Tor turned to him. “Mother left a message?”

“Strictly for Ms. Vincent. I’m sorry, sir.”

He lowered his head briefly and rubbed his hand over his
face. When he looked up, it was as if nothing had happened, but she’d seen his
pain at the rebuff. She wanted to ease it. Even though he and his mother had
often been at loggerheads because they were so alike, Mouse had never seen a
parent and child who understood one another so well. Regine knew who her son
was and had loved him warts and all, and apparently the feeling was mutual.

“Right. I’m sure Mr. Thompson will give you all the
particulars. I’ll see you at the club bright and early on Monday morning.”

“Morning? I thought clubs were nighttime places?”

He smiled. “They are. But we get the business done during
the day so our guests can enjoy their evenings.”

Tor winked at her, picked up his long coat to protect him
against the late autumn chill and left her with the lawyer. Six months in close
proximity to that man was likely to kill her, she thought, staring at the closed
door. The behavior he’d shown today was unusual for him. Tor Stuart was
typically the poster boy for phlegmatic Scotsmen everywhere, but every once in
awhile, volatile emotions swept over him. Like those today. Jeez, normally he
was so in control he was a little scary. Only his occasional fits of anger
lurking under the ginger hair made him seem human.

Mouse sighed, turning to Mr. Thompson. “Well, what did she
have to say?”

He walked over to his desk and picked up an envelope.
Regine’s stationary. She’d recognize it anywhere. Handmade paper in a soft,
warm peach tone. Not too girly. Just classic, like Regine. He pressed a button
against the wall and the landscape painting silently slid upward to reveal a
flat screen and below it a player.

“Press here to start the recording.” He pointed. “Open this
envelope as directed during the course of the recording. I’ll wait for you
outside.”

The lawyer handed her the envelope and slipped out of the
room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mouse closed her eyes. She wasn’t
sure she was ready to see Regine again. And which Regine would it be? The woman
completely in control of herself and everyone around her or the woman in a pain
only barely dulled by drugs as she’d been at the end?

Mouse stood and walked over to the player, pressing play
before she sat down again. Suddenly nearly three feet of Regine filled her
vision. Looking sleek and slender in a peach-toned designer suit with a
matching hat to cover her bald head, which she always called her chemo merit
badge.

“Alone together again, Mouse dear. Your hands are probably
itching to begin taking notes,” she chuckled, her voice still bearing hints of
her Southern upbringing.

Mouse grinned. She’d be fine never taking notes again, but
if Regine were really sitting here beside her, she’d find a notebook and her
pen and be poised to take down her boss’s every word. That was just how they’d
been together. Regine was a hard woman to love sometimes, but Mouse had adored
her. No one she’d ever known had such a deep well of emotions so carefully
hidden from public scrutiny.

“Well, now that I’m dead…” Regine took a deep breath,
looking away from the camera recording her. “God, that thought truly terrifies
me.” She returned her gaze to the front, and Mouse felt pinned beneath those
pale blue eyes. “But I thank you for helping me through this. You’ve been my
rock in so very many ways…” She trailed off and carefully wiped her eyes so as
not to smear her makeup. Regine cleared her throat.

“Now I’ve gone all morbid and sentimental and it’s your
fault, dear. I need you here to help me with this bit, but since it’s for
you
I won’t tell you about it until I’m dead. Quite the catch-22 I’ve presented
myself.” She shook herself and straightened, folding her hands carefully on her
lap.

“To business then. As much as I love you, Mouse my girl,
your inheritance comes with a price, which you now know. I expect you to work
with Tor at Erotically Bound for six months. A difficult task on so many
levels. Open the envelope you were given but don’t read the contents yet.”

Mouse followed directions precisely and sat with a letter
and business card in her hands but remained staring at the screen. “So okay.
Now what?”

“Now what, you ask? I can almost hear you, dear.” Regine
chuckled, and Mouse felt a chill run up her spine. Shit, the woman had known
her so well.

“Well, now I’m going to tell you a little story. There was a
beautiful young woman who set out for New York, determined to be a model. After
a few years in the business, she met a marvelous lawyer named James. They fell
madly in love, moved to Washington D.C. together and had a son. They had a
fabulous life until he was taken from her far too early.”

Mouse cocked her head. That was the public version, but
she’d never quite bought it as so many others had. Very few people were
privileged to live such an easy, simple life.

“As you no doubt guessed long ago, that’s just the PR spin
we put on things. It was a Cinderella story and everyone loves those so much,
don’t they? The true story is a bit different.
Vastly
different, in
fact.”

Mouse looked down and smiled then realized she didn’t have
to hide her grins from Regine anymore. Not that Regine hadn’t caught every one
of them but Mouse had always tried to keep from laughing out loud.

“I know you’re smiling, dear. You never could hide that
irreverent sense of humor from me, especially when your humor was at my
expense, as it so often was.”

Damn, if she didn’t know better, she’d think the woman was
in the room. Mouse frowned. “Well, get on with it then, Regine.”

“Yes, let’s get on with it. Shall we?” Regine took off her
hat, baring the baldness she’d hated at first then later embraced, both in
private and public. Her last few years had been spent crusading to raise money
for breast cancer research, and Mouse had been at her side the entire time.
Organizing. Calling people. Making pitches. Writing press releases. In general,
making Regine’s life easier while she fought a losing battle.

“You need the true story so that you can move forward and
make a difference in my son’s life, as you did in mine.

“I come from a tiny town in West Virginia. My daddy was
killed in a mine cave-in when I was seventeen and Mama was desperate, the way
you were the day we met. She went to the richest man in town, the coal mine
owner, and asked him to help. Within a week I was his mistress.” Regine tilted
her head, her eyes far off in remembrance. “I did what I had to in order to
help my family—just as you have. I know you’ve sent money off every pay period
to care for family in Ohio.”

“So what’s the point, Regine? Why the club?”

“Let me get to the point…”

“How the hell do you keep doing that?” Mouse got up and
began to pace.

“Oh do sit down, dear.”

Mouse fell back into her chair and stared at the screen. No
way. Just…no.

The Regine on the screen was smiling faintly. “No, I’m not a
ghost. I just know you very well. And the reason is because I’m a Dominant
woman. A Domme. I know how to read people. Their nuances. It made me a very
good mistress and a very good
Mistress
too. So good, my first lover
wanted to leave his wife, but I said no. I told him it would destroy my mama if
I broke up his family and asked him to help me get a start in New York. So he
did.”

“I became a model, but I also fell into the life of a
professional Dominatrix. I was good at both, and that’s how I met James. He was
a submissive.”

“No waaaay.”

“Yes, he was. A man with so much control in his public life
often enjoys relinquishing that control privately. And so he did,
to me
.
I valued his submission more than all his money. Tor knows about and respects
our relationship. When he realized he was a Dominant too, his respect grew.
Greater respect arises out of understanding.” She brushed her fingers over her
hairless scalp, wincing slightly. “In fact, his respect was one of the reasons
he started Erotically Bound. He wanted a safe place to play for those with a
great deal to lose. I held controlling interest, but I was a silent partner.
You
will not be. In your hand is a list. Open and read it now. I’ll wait.”

Mouse unfolded it. There were specific tasks enumerated—from
removing alcohol from the premises to mentions of individuals who should lose
their memberships because they abused their privileges and didn’t play safely,
sanely and consensually with their partners.

“These items are merely guidelines. You have a mind of your
own, so I want you to determine which of these are true and should be followed
and which are false—to be ignored. Yes, some
are
incorrect. Only through
observation and investigation can you find out if you fit this lifestyle
yourself, but I think you do.”

Mouse’s gaze flew from the sheet of paper to the screen.
“You’re nuts. I’m not…”

“No, you are
not
a Dominant, Mouse. I know that.
You’re a submissive.” Regine chuckled. “You and I have had a non-sexual D/s relationship
for the last five years. Like James you are a perfect submissive and worth your
weight in gold as such. I adore you just as much as you adore me. We understand
one another. But it’s time for you to find another Dominant. One who can share
your life…
all
aspects of it. You have six months to do it.” She put her
hat back on an adjusted it to the perfect angle.

“Finally, don’t underestimate Tor. He needs someone like you
to shake him out of his complacency. That boy thinks he knows everything. He
doesn’t. And he doesn’t trust easily, but he needs to be able to trust
you
.
Show him your mettle. You gained your strength in the fires of our first year
together. I honed you, now I set you free to find what you need and maybe what
you need is my son.”

Mouse felt heat rush to her face. God, she wished she could
have Tor, but there was no way he’d be interested in her. He dated women like
his mother. Classy and beautiful.

“Didn’t I just say
not
to underestimate my son,
dear?” Mouse jerked. Damn it. She wished Regine would stop doing that. “Tor
doesn’t choose based on looks, though it might seem that way based on his
recent…conquests. No, he values people as I taught him to. By who they are, not
what they look like. And remember, you may be a submissive but you’re not a
doormat—even if your name
is
Mouse.” Regine chuckled. “Oh, and one final
thing. Call the phone number on the business card as soon as you get home. Ask
for Mistress Zarah. She’ll be expecting your call and will answer all your
questions. She has a few additional instructions for you. Then…full steam
ahead. Tackle the club and teach my son a thing or two. He needs you
desperately, just as I did.”