On His Terms (21 page)

Not surprisingly, he reached her voicemail. He followed with a text message, giving her five minutes to respond.

At four minutes and fifty seconds, she called. “It’s Chelsea,” she said, her voice quiet, and quivery, as if with emotion.

He knew he could be making that up. She might be in the middle of something, maybe a meeting, perhaps afternoon traffic. But she’d called him back in less than the allotted time. He told himself that meant something. Or at least he fucking hoped it did. “You won.”

“No,” she countered. “Monahan Capital did. The kids who will benefit also won.”

“You went behind my back.”

“I did the right thing,” she countered.

Always the fighter. “You have a lot to answer for.” He pictured her kneeling up, awaiting his punishment.

“And who’s going to hold me accountable?”

Silence hung between them, thick, palpable, laden. Had she issued a challenge? Or was it a rhetorical question? He was generally a man of action, and trying to figure out what she meant gnawed at him. He didn’t want to misstep, but he’d phoned her with the intention of seeing her again.

But to what end?

He only wanted to be involved with a woman who wouldn’t fight him on every issue. He needed a sub. He wanted her. Alex didn’t consider himself a fool, but he sure as hell was behaving like one. “Dinner?” he asked.

She was silent for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer. When she spoke, her voice was more subdued than he’d ever heard it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But thank you for the offer,” she said before ending the call.

He sat back and reached for a pencil. He drummed it against the desktop.

She might have turned him down, but that didn’t mean anything. Like a good girl, she’d called him straight back. She’d hesitated for a long time before refusing his invitation. He was more comfortable with facts and figures than with relationships, but unless he missed his bet, she’d wanted to agree.

He wasn’t sure where that knowledge left him or what to do with it. For the first time in his life, a woman had perplexed him.

* * * *

Chelsea held her clipboard close to her chest and looked around the large room one last time.

She, Jennifer and their team had spent six intense weeks doing the preparation work, and the big day had finally arrived.

In keeping with the hoedown theme, red-and-white chequered cloths covered rectangular tables. Bright yellow sunflowers dropped their fat faces over skinny vases.

Two bars were being stocked with good beer and fine wine. A popular band was tuning up on the stage, and Jennifer was in last-minute discussions with the lead singer about the timing of announcements. Tables filled with silent auction items lined the walls. And the scent of the barbecue beef and pork wafted over the mountain valley.

For a month, they’d sent press releases to all the Denver outlets and to the news media in all the nearby towns, and they’d spent a day in the area about two weeks ago talking to local merchants, and pinning up flyers.

She had updated Monahan Capital’s Web site with information, she’d done several e-mail campaigns to everyone they’d ever done business with, and she’d shamelessly peppered every social networking site and asked her friends and family to do the same. She’d blasted the band’s fans, the catering company’s client list, the charity’s donors, even the lodge’s employees and past guests. For good measure, she’d contacted some celebrity spokespeople, too.

She’d pretty much notified everyone in North America of the event.

The weather had even cooperated, so they could also utilise the outdoor space. If things went as well as she and Jennifer hoped, they would need all the room they could get.

She checked her watch. Thirty minutes until the doors opened. Things were ahead of schedule, thank God. A table, manned by several temporary workers, was in the foyer. They’d been trained to sell raffle tickets as well as encourage high bidding on the auction items.

Everyone was even dressed according to her specifications. She and Jenn each wore denim skirts, white blouses, and they’d added a red bandana around their necks as an accessory.

She’d tried to think through everything. Truthfully, her company had never worked harder on an event. This could put her firm on the map, but there was much, much more than that on the line.

She wanted to please Master Alexander. He’d made it clear, even to Jenn, that he wanted nothing to do with the fundraiser. He didn’t like being thwarted by anyone, especially his younger brother.

Chelsea told herself the event mattered only to her portfolio. But that was a lie. She still wanted to please him. It was the same reason she’d practised for so many hours while he’d been training her. His good opinion of her mattered. Maybe too much.

When he’d invited her to dinner over a month ago, she’d desperately wanted to accept. But for her own sanity, she’d refused. She loved him too much to hang out, or even scene. Every evening when she finally slowed down, she thought of him. Keeping memories of their time together at bay had become a full-time, and mostly futile, job.

Chelsea had mentally rehearsed how she was going act when they came face-to-face. She’d be wearing a bright smile. She would exude tons of confidence as she offered her hand and wished him lots of success. Her demeanour would be professional, and she’d give a quick excuse and move off and see to some pressing demand. At the end of the evening, she’d leave Jennifer to deal with the Monahan brothers while she wrapped up the other details. The two of them would drive home together in Jennifer’s car. Chelsea had thought everything through.

“Haven’t we talked about your posture?”

The sound of Master Alexander’s voice snaked up her spine and she froze, fear all but holding her immobilised. How the hell had she missed his arrival?

“Face me, please.”

It took several seconds to regain control of her faculties. What stunned her most was her instinctive reaction. The sound of his voice made her bend her knees before she caught herself. And it never occurred to her to refuse to do as he asked.

As she turned, she straightened her shoulders and pasted on the smile she’d tried out in front of the mirror this morning. Oh, God. How was it possible that he was even more handsome than she remembered? His dark hair was styled back from his forehead, exposing its firm angularity. He wore tight-fitting blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a denim shirt. He’d skipped a tie and, instead, had left the top button of his shirt undone.

Her clipboard still against her chest, she offered her right hand to him. All of a sudden she wished she’d worn sexy, rather than comfortable shoes. “Nice to see you, Alex.”

“Master Alexander,” he corrected. “Or Sir will do.”

She wasn’t tempted to look around to see if anyone was watching. But she didn’t respond in kind. “I hope the party is everything you deserve.”

“It’s going to be wonderful.” He glanced at her hand, but he didn’t take it.

No one had ever done that before, so she wasn’t sure what to do next. Drop it? Wait? This man, more than any other, made her feel awkward.

“I’ve received daily updates on your progress and God knows I think you contacted every person I’ve ever known. I’ve heard from friends I had in kindergarten.”

She dropped her hand, and because she wasn’t sure what to do, gripped the clipboard tighter. “Hopefully we’ve contacted hundreds more you’ve never heard of.”

“You’ve done well,” he told her. “And you’re going to get what you deserve.”

“Ah…”

“I think we could start with a spanking for your lack of respect.”

Her mouth dried. This was exactly why she had refused to go out with him. Responding to him was all too easy. More than anything she wanted to feel his hand on her bare buttocks.

“And then we will move on to the fact you went behind my back.”

She searched his features. His tone was neutral, and one brow was cocked, but more questioningly than anything. He didn’t appear angry.

“And when you’re ready to tell us both the truth, we’ll go on from there.”

“The truth?” She scowled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It hit me about a week ago. I know a lot about you. You’re not a coward. When I invited you to dinner, you should have accepted, if for no other reason than to have another opportunity to hammer me about this event and ensure my cooperation.”

Her breaths were becoming shorter and closer together.

“But you turned me down,” he continued. “So I started to wonder what you were afraid of.”

He took a step towards her, but she stood her ground, and that was one of the more difficult things she’d ever done.

“I wanted to know if you were more scared of me or yourself.”

“You don’t frighten me, Alex,” she lied.

“No?”

This time, when he entered her comfort zone, she took a step back. A man with a camera and a badge walked into the room. Jennifer caught her eye and indicated she would handle the reporter. Chelsea gave the other woman a quick nod.

“I saw the way you reacted to the sound of my voice. You wanted to kneel.”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Another three spanks for every lie you tell yourself, sub.”

“I…”

“Admit it.”

She was pissed off at herself for backing up, so this time, she moved towards him, juggling the clipboard to one side as if it were armour. With her free hand, she pointed a finger at him. “You want the truth? Fine. I’ll give it to you straight up. But brace for impact. I have something to tell you and when I do, you’re going to run so fast an Olympian couldn’t catch you.”

“Try me.”

Damn him. Did he always have to be so confident? She was shaking with fury, with embarrassment, and her jaw ached from grinding her teeth. She glanced around to ensure everything was under control before continuing with her same quiet anger, “I’m not just a sub.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m a woman.”

He swept his gaze down her body. “A very beautiful one who is wearing far too many clothes.”

“Would you be serious?”

“I am. Deadly.” He took hold of her shoulders.

His touch, the scent of him, the power of him made her dizzy. “I will not be a play toy. I’ve realised I no longer fight against the idea of submission. You were right initially. I did think BDSM was about feathers and playful swats on the ass, maybe a few scarves for bondage. But submission is a certain mindset. It’s about caring enough about a person that his needs become paramount. Pleasing him pleases me.”

His grip tightened painfully, and she winced.

“Have you been playing with anyone else?” he demanded.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She exhaled. Why had he chosen now for a confrontation? Then she reminded herself she’d been too chicken to meet with him when he’d asked. She should have been prepared for this. “It’s none of your business, but for the record, no. I haven’t been with anyone else. I can tell you this, I will not give my submission without a great deal of thought. I do like kink. As you suggested, it’s different from subjugating your own will. My submission needs to be earned by the right man. And the right man is someone I love.” She set her chin. “And someone who loves me in return.”

“Is that all?”

She tried to pull away, and he only tightened his grip. She’d all but confessed her love and he responded with that?

“You’re not the only stubborn one,” he confessed. “I told myself I didn’t want another submissive after Liz. But I learnt a thing or two, especially after I saw you with Evan C. Liz would have surrendered to him, no matter how brutal he was, and she would have enjoyed it. Seeing you at the Den, your strength, resolution, determination, it all taught me something. You stood up for yourself.”

His grip turned more reassuring. And it was everything she could do not to lean into it, into him.

“Of course you should only offer your submission to a man you love, and a man who loves you in return.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, searching his face.

The noise level increased as guests started to arrive.

“We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Damn. Double damn. How was she supposed to get through the next few hours?

As if reading her mind, he said, “You’ve tortured me for six weeks, Chelsea. You can wait another few hours to see me mastered.”

“I—”

“Chelsea, the mayor of the town is here,” Jennifer said, with a quick smile at both of them as an apology. “Can I have Alex for a quick photo op?”

“You’re mine, Chelsea,” he said, before releasing her.

She watched him walk away, and she clutched the clipboard close as if it were a lifeline on a storm-tossed sea.

Then she couldn’t think at all.

She’d planned it so that alcohol would flow before dinner, encouraging people to bid higher on the silent auction items. So far, her strategy seemed to be working.

Master Damien showed up, with Gregorio at his side. As always, the Den’s owner looked dapper and debonair as he sipped a glass of wine, while Gregorio drank from a mug of draught beer and surveyed the room while conveying the idea he was someone you didn’t want to meet in a dark alley. Jenn looked at Gregorio and gave a thumbs-up before turning to answer a question.

“Everything is all set at the Den for the private escape for you and Master Alex,” Master Damien said after she greeted them.

She blinked. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him above the band’s din. “It is? I mean, it is, Sir?”

“Oh.”

Gregorio grinned, but nothing about it softened his features. In fact, he just looked more ferocious. His earring glittered in the light. “Good thing you’re wearing boots with the way you just stepped in it, boss.”

Master Damien sipped from his wine. “Well, yes, perhaps you two should have a private discussion.”

“I think I will, Sir.”

“Drink up, boss.”

She excused herself, but she was waylaid with a half dozen questions. More guests than their wildest estimates had suggested arrived, and so there were decisions needed about extra food and more beverages.