The Billionaire Submissive (Billionaires in Bondage) (3 page)

Her eyes narrowed. “Release me this instant, Mr. Morgan.”

Her voice was pleasant enough. She didn’t use her words like a whip to lash him into compliance. She didn’t even give him a stern look from those stunning eyes. He’d thought them more blue than gray, but this close, her eyes gleamed like polished silver.

“Now.”

Again, her voice remained level and almost sweet. Certainly feminine and far from mean and nasty. He didn’t want to obey. He wanted her to get angry and harsh with him, to wrestle him into sweaty submission, but again, this wasn’t the time and certainly not the place. Frustrated, he let go of her and made no objection when she straightened and put a polite distance between them. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, allowing the noise of the plaza level to separate them even more. Running his hand through his hair, he fought to keep his mouth shut. His ridiculous, obstinate behavior certainly wouldn’t help convince her to accept his commission, let alone open her mind to pursuing a more private relationship with him. Good submissives obeyed the Mistress without question. They certainly didn’t manhandle the Mistress against her direct order.

Which is why I’m not a good submissive and I have no Mistress.

She turned her head slightly, whispered, “Good boy,” then stepped out of the elevator, leaving him to follow in her wake.

Stunned, he had to throw up a hand to keep the elevator doors from shutting and taking him back upstairs. People waited to get on, and here he stood with his mouth hanging open and his pants tented like a randy teenager. Lilly paused, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked little smile dimpling her cheek, all innocence and saucy attitude that made him crazy. He wanted to make her lose her calm amusement. He wanted to hear her voice crack with fury, her eyes sharp and cold as she punished him. Not winking, silently laughing at him for still standing on the elevator like a dumbfounded idiot.

Grinding his teeth, he pushed his way out of the elevator and stomped after her. His face was on fire, blazing with humiliation and yes, relief. He’d managed to please the Mistress, at least a little, despite his stubborn pride. Even though obeying a simple common-sense command made his spine bristle and his stomach churn. The whispered praise gave him hope she might consider his offer despite his numerous failings. And he had no doubt that his failings as a submissive would give her significant pause.

If I must trick her into accepting me at least for a while, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Even if I have to blackmail her into accepting my contract.

Somehow, Mr. Morgan knew exactly what kind of woman she was. Maybe he’d asked around at a club? Though she hadn’t done the club scene in years. She hadn’t needed to, not with her own steady clientele. Could one of her subs have broken her rules and told someone else about her? She’d been very careful in the contract she’d had each man sign. Referrals were allowed, but only if he spoke to her about the interested party first before ever giving her name to anyone else.

Lilly quickly ran the list of her acquaintances through her head, trying to see if any of them would be the type to go behind her back. She didn’t think so. She’d been with them all at least a year without issue, except for the Hamiltons, and trusted their loyalty without question. But if Mr. Morgan had waved enough money around…

Anyone would talk.

Sick to her stomach at the thought one of her trusted subs had betrayed her, she slowed and allowed Mr. Morgan to take the lead again. She had no idea where he wanted these windows, so charging around just to prove a point would be beyond stupid. She wanted to ask him who’d told him about her, but that would put her at a disadvantage. If he knew she wanted something, he’d have leverage.
If I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile and keep right on steamrolling me into the ground.

The tips of his ears and his cheeks were red and he avoided making eye contact. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe the little whisper of praise was too much for a man of his pride. Good. Problem solved. He might change his mind about this so-called commission, but it’d be worth it to avoid entangling herself with this kind of rich and powerful man. The kind of man who’d track down her clients and pay them to betray her.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d stoop to blackmail too.

He led the way to the side exit providing access to the new light rail depot. Steady foot traffic passed between the buildings, though the frantic flood of workers heading to lunch had ebbed. “Since the building’s exterior is an art-deco style, I want something similar for these windows.”

Her stomach quivered like she’d just jumped off a cliff. Staring up at the soaring glass, she tried not to let her mouth hang open or her hands tremble. Two full stories of glass a city block wide, visible from both the ground and skyway levels, separated his building from thousands of potential viewers using the new trains. She spared a glance at his face to see if he was serious. “The whole wall?”

“Top to floor,” he replied levelly, a hint of challenge glinting in his chocolate eyes. “Is the job too big for you?”

“Honestly, yes, as much as it pains me to admit.” His eyes flickered with surprise. “Mr. Morgan, it would take a twenty-man crew months to complete such a massive job. Maybe years. I really don’t know. Single handedly, I don’t know if I could complete it in my lifetime, even if I had the design in my hands today.” By the way his brow furrowed, she could see he had no idea of the magnitude of the work involved. “One pane is easily a thousand individual pieces of glass which must be perfectly cut and smoothed. Not to mention the scope of the project overall. What kind of design are you looking for in this space?”

He shrugged. “You tell me. As long as it matches the building’s decor, I don’t care.”

“That’s not good enough for me, Mr. Morgan. I’m an artist, not Walmart. I don’t do cookie-cutter designs that anyone could find in a yard sale.”

“I know. That’s why I picked you.”

Is it?
She bit her lip but didn’t say it aloud. Somehow she had the feeling he’d found her first by her secret profession. The stained glass commission was merely the bait to get her here. It wounded the artist in her, even though the challenge of such a massive project made her nerves tingle with excitement and dread. This kind of project was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But the risk…

“I have an idea.” She looked back into his face and didn’t like what she saw. The shuttered look in his eyes told her he was up to something. “Why don’t you show me what kind of work we’re talking about here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to see your shop. Watch you work. Show me exactly what’s involved.”

Alarm bells started going off in her head. Her shop was in her garage. Basically, he wanted her to take him home. And by the smug curve of his lips, he knew it.

Bad idea, Lilly. Hugely bad. Remember the elevator? Do you really want to be alone with him, let alone in your house?

She never took clients home, her sacred space. Even if he had absolutely no idea his stained glass artist was also Mistress L, she’d have to be an idiot to allow a stranger into her home. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Mr. Morgan.”

Ignoring her concern, he pulled out his cell phone and made a call. “Miss Wruthers, I’m going to be out the rest of the afternoon. Miss Harrison is going to give me a tutorial in stained glass so I know exactly the amount of work involved.”

Lilly kept her expression neutral, even though his heavy-handed assumption that she’d so easily capitulate pissed her off. At least his secretary was a witness to his whereabouts, although as much as he probably paid her, she’d lie on a stack of Bibles if hard pressed. As soon as he hung up, Lilly smiled sweetly at him, even while she jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “Do you think I’m an utter moron?”

“What? Of course not.”

“I don’t ever take clients home with me, let alone complete strangers.”

His eyes narrowed and he gave her an ugly sneer. “I’m not your
client
.”

Lilly knew that tone of voice. She read his disdain and disgust in the twist of his lips, the flare of his nostrils.
How does he know?
“I don’t take orders from any man, let alone from assholes.”

Stiffly, she stepped into the flow of pedestrians headed to the next building.

“Miss Harrison!” Startled cries broke out and she glanced back to see him pushing people out of his way to barrel toward her. “Lilly, wait!”

“Go to hell, Mr. Morgan.”

Chapter Three

“What a douchebag.”

No wonder Marie was her best friend. Lilly gave her a hug and then flopped into her recliner, while her friend sat on the adjacent loveseat. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Anytime, hon. You’re not going to pick up his project, are you?”

“I told him to go to hell, so I doubt I’ll hear from him again.” She laughed wryly. “It would have been a magnificent, terrifyingly wonderful project too. The scope, the scale of it… I really don’t know if I could have pulled it off singlehandedly.”

“You could have. I don’t doubt that for a moment.” Marie took a sip from her wine glass. “So you think he knows about Mistress L?”

“He sure acted like it.” Lilly frowned, nibbling on her lip. “I just can’t believe one of my clients would have talked to him, though.”

Marie studied the red wine for several long moments before finally saying, “You trust them that much?”

“I do, but evidently that makes me a fool.” Lilly didn’t have any secrets from her best friend. Marie certainly didn’t judge her lifestyle, but she didn’t understand it, either. “It definitely makes me doubt, which is bad. I can’t pull off what they need if there’s any doubt in my mind.”

“I know we’ve talked about this before, but I still don’t get it.” Marie smiled at her apologetically. “I understand what they get from you, but what do you get from them?”

It was hard to explain. Mistress L had started out at the local BDSM club three years ago as Lilly tried to find what she’d been searching for her whole life. She’d dated. She’d had plenty of sex, some good, some not so good. She’d even been engaged. But there’d been an emptiness inside her the entire time, an aching, gnawing lack, even though she didn’t know what it was. She’d found it at the club once she’d taken a crop in her hand. “They test me. It’s like each time I give them an order, and they do it, then I’ve proved my strength and will again. If they don’t obey, then I have to prove I’m strong enough to punish them until they do. Regardless, I’m growing every single day and becoming even stronger.”

Marie winced. “It just sounds so…”

“Medieval?” They both giggled. “We do draw a lot of inspiration from torture chambers.”

“Take me to your dungeon,” Marie gasped out in between gales of laughter.

Lilly pretended to rise. “Really? Great! I’ve been dying to take you down there.”

Marie’s mouth fell open and her eyes went round. “You really do have a dungeon?”

“No, silly. Just a room full of goodies. I don’t even bring anyone here.”

“Why not?”

Lilly took a long sip of her wine, letting the robust red spark flavors on her tongue before she answered. “They’re not in
my
life. Does that make sense? Mistress L is who they need. Not me. They don’t even know the real me.”

“That sounds…sad.”

She winced and shrugged. “I’ve had someone for Lilly but he couldn’t satisfy the Mistress. I have plenty of men for the Mistress, but no one for Lilly. Eventually I’ll find someone who keeps both sides of me happy.”

The doorbell rang, causing Hank to set up a ruckus out in the back yard. Marie’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Lilly set the glass aside and went to peek outside. She groaned and dropped her forehead against the door. “It’s him.”

“Mr. Douchebag? How’d he know where you live?”

Lilly schooled her face into a hard mask and opened the door. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

Mr. Morgan gave her his most winning smile and held out a bouquet of roses so fragrant she could smell them without even taking them from his hand. “Miss Harrison.”

“Mr. Morgan.” She didn’t take the offered flowers, even though they were her favorite. He’d even gotten red ones, which was probably a safe bet for most women. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—know that red was her favorite color. Actually it was more than that. The color stimulated all her senses. It was like an aphrodisiac for her. “What are you doing here?”

“Humbly offering my most sincere apologies.”

Marie joined her in the doorway. “You’re not actually going to listen to him, are you? Though I see what you mean.”

“That depends on what he thinks he’s sorry for.” His thousand-watt smile ramped up another notch, moving from smug to downright preening at the thought she might have been gossiping about how good looking he was with her friend.
Naturally, I ought to bring him down a notch.
“I said he was pretty. But you know that’s the kiss of death for me.”

Marie snorted and his wide smile slipped a notch as Lilly had hoped.

“May I come in?”

Lilly hesitated. She didn’t want to give him a single tidbit of information about her. Not when he’d already tracked her down and somehow ferreted out her secret identity without even speaking to her first. This was her private domain. Literally and figuratively, the place she let her hair down. She was even barefoot, for God’s sake, dressed in her oldest, most comfortable threadbare jeans and T-shirt. Meanwhile he was still dressed to the nines in the suit that probably cost more than her car.