The Master (12 page)

“I find it hard to believe anyone would bully you, Sir.”

He snorted. “I’ve changed just a little.”

“Sorry to interrupt. Go on.”

“At first it was little things he’d blame on me: frogs in the pantry, salt in the sugar bowl. Everyone believed him because he was a bloody brilliant student and practically perfect.” He shook his head. “Then one day my mum’s jewelry went missing.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Exactly. And this was no normal jewelry. It was jewelry given to my family in the late fifteenth century. It was almost lost when one of my ancestors pissed off Henry the Eighth—”

“Wait a minute.
The
Henry the Eighth?”

He laughed softly. “There’s only one, right?”

“Wow.”

“Don’t be too impressed. We lost our title as a result of that, but some quick thinker hid the jewelry. So we held on to it.”

“At least until Asshole Kid showed up.”

“Right, and I decided it was time the world knew his true colors. I did some investigative reporting. Talked to the household help, the neighbors, everyone. A week later I presented my report to my mother.”

“Pretty inventive for an eleven-year-old. What happened?”

“He denied it, of course, but the jewelry showed up the next morning.” He looked past her to something behind her. “Mum knew the truth, though. And I fell in love with writing.”

The waitress delivered their entrees, and they didn’t speak until she left.

“Ever think about writing a novel?” Sasha asked, cutting her salad.

“Of course, but why would I want to make stuff up when real life is so interesting?”

“Real life doesn’t always have a happy ending.”

His smile was gentle. “And you’re a happily ever after kind of girl?”

“I have to believe it’s out there somewhere.”

“I’ve seen a lot of shit in this world. The truth is, happily ever afters aren’t the norm.”

“That’s just sad.”

“It’s realistic.”

“I’m holding out for the fantasy,” she said.

“I wish I had your faith, but I realized the truth a long time ago.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not anyone’s happily ever after.”

•   •   •

C
ole was thankful she didn’t push him on his statement or try to change his mind. After all, Kate, who had been with him for years, left. He knew he wasn’t in a place to be what Sasha needed. Across the table, her face was expressionless as she focused on her salad. For a while they were silent, both trying to enjoy the delicious food. When they started talking again, it was about his recent work in India.

After finishing their entrees, they both agreed they were too full at the moment for ice cream. Sasha suggested walking in the gardens, and he agreed. There had been a certain spark in her eyes earlier when she spoke of the flowers and he wanted to see it again. Though she hadn’t seemed as despondent lately, the times she looked truly alive were still fewer than he liked.

She was animated while they walked. She knew just about every flower, plant, and tree they came upon and seemed thrilled to talk about them. He wished his family still owned
his childhood home. There had been a maze in the gardens and Sasha would have loved it.

“Have you always enjoyed flowers and gardening?” he asked. He pointed to a stone bench off to the side of the path. “Want to sit?”

She nodded and sat down beside him. “Julie and I were college roommates. She always talked about opening a shop and eventually sucked me into the business.”

“You didn’t have anything you wanted to do? No big dream?”

She shook her head. “I always sort of just floated from thing to thing. Never really had a big ‘when I grow up’ vision.”

“Are you happy with what you do?”

“Oh, sure. It’s fifty percent my business. Besides, Julie and I balance each other out. She’s more business and numbers, and I’m more personal relations.”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Is this a job interview for a position I didn’t know I applied for? Next, are you going to ask me if I prefer to work alone or on a team?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her sass. “No, I was going to save that for if you made it to the second round.”

She laughed softly, a musically feminine sound.

“I like it when you laugh, Sasha,” he said.

She smiled and dipped her head. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of how close her body was to him. How easy it would be to gently lift her chin and lower his lips to hers.

“I suppose I haven’t had a lot to laugh about the last few months,” she said, and her matter-of-factness pained him.

“I’m glad our outing provided you the outlet you needed,” he said.

“Me, too,” she whispered. “Thank you for that.”

The air between them hummed, and he knew if he didn’t do something or change the subject, he’d wind up doing something he’d regret.

He cleared his throat and the spell was broken. “Ready for ice cream?”

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and looked pensive for several seconds before saying, “Yes, that would be great.”

They stood and walked to the creamery portion of the property. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Cole had always thought it to be more telling of how well you got along with someone when you could enjoy the silence together. Too many times he found himself trying to fill the silence with words when he was around someone he didn’t particularly get along with.

Sasha walked beside him, her hands clasped behind her back. The position thrust her chest out slightly and he wondered if she did it on purpose.

An old yellow Lab slowly made his way toward them as they approached the creamery. He stopped in the middle of the path, midway to them, and waited.

Sasha’s step quickened. “Oh, look. He’s so pretty.”

She stopped in front of him and held out her hand, offering it for the Lab to sniff. When the dog licked her instead, she laughed and rubbed his head. “What a sweetie.”

Cole watched from the side, and the sight of her made his heart ache. He knew he was catching a rare glimpse of the happy and lighthearted Sasha who existed before Peter. Her interactions with the dog were natural and easy, almost as if she was a different person. Her smile came effortlessly and her laugh was
genuine. It was only when she felt his eyes on her that she stood and brushed off her hands.

“Think we can fit him in your car?” she asked.

“I think he’d be missed.”

She gave the Lab a scratch behind the ears. “Probably.”

They resumed walking the short distance to the creamery shop. A handful of people milled around outside. They drew to a stop in front of the counter.

“Everything looks so good.” Sasha studied the glass case and turned to look at him when he didn’t follow suit. “Aren’t you going to see what they have?”

“No, I know what I want.”

After they ordered and got their cones, they sat at a worn picnic table.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her.

“You got vanilla.”

“And?”

“It’s just vanilla. It’s plain.” She wrinkled her nose.

“It’s not plain, it’s simple. And it’s so simple, it’s extraordinarily complex.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Close your eyes and clear your mind.” He waited until they were closed and then he held his cone up to her lips. “Taste it like it’s your first time.”

Her tongue darted out and licked the ice cream. He tried not to think about where he’d really like her tongue.

“Mmm.” She licked her lips. “Yum.”

“See?” he asked, pleased that she grasped the lesson so quickly.

She opened her eyes and gave him a mischievous smile.
“Yes,
and I can only imagine how delicious my mint chocolate chip is going to taste when I apply the same thing to it.”

“I should have guessed you’d say that.”

She licked her own cone. “Yes, you really should have.”

They finished the ice cream, making small talk and discussing details of the house they saw earlier. At one point, the yellow Lab wandered over and sat at Sasha’s feet. She reached an idle hand down and scratched his head.

During a lull in the conversation, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “There’s a play party next weekend.”

She froze and he could see her process his words and their meaning before she relaxed. “Yes.”

“Good job, Sasha. You did what I told you to do earlier, didn’t you?” She’d remembered he wouldn’t touch her without telling her where and how.

“Yes, Sir.”

He nodded. “A fast learner. I like that. I would like for you to attend the party with me.”

He paused, gauging her reaction. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. “I would like that,” she said.

“Since the party will be held at Master Greene’s house and I don’t know if he has granite countertops, I won’t have you wear the black lingerie.”

Her voice was calm when she asked, “What will you have me wear, Sir?”

“I’ll have it sent to you this week.” Let her think about it for a while.

“I look forward to it.”

“We won’t formally participate in any scenes, but you will serve as my submissive.”

Her lips parted and she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Master Greene has asked me if he can apologize for Peter’s actions.” He watched her carefully, looking for any hint of panic.

“Will Peter be there?” she asked quietly.

“No, in fact I understand that as a result of the phone call, there’s to be a meeting to determine if he should be allowed to remain in the group.”

Her eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t heard that. He was surprised Julie hadn’t told her, but then again, Daniel might not have told Julie.

She straightened her shoulders. “In that case, I’m good with Master Greene apologizing.”

“That’s what I told him, but I also said I wanted to check with you first.”

She nodded, but then her gaze grew distant and she looked over his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” he asked. “Are you having second thoughts?”

She slowly returned her focus to him. “No, I’m just thinking about Peter. Now that I can think about him and not risk an episode, I often find myself wondering if I missed something, some sign.”

“I understand why you’d do that, but your time would be better spent asking yourself what qualities you’re looking for in a Dom.” He reached into his pocket and took a twenty-dollar
bill out. “Do you know how they train people to recognize counterfeit money?”

Her forehead wrinkled and she frowned in puzzlement. “Sir?”

He passed her the twenty. “They don’t give them the counterfeit bills to study. They only touch and hold the real thing. They become so accustomed to the real money that they immediately recognize the fraud.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say, Sir.”

“Focus on what you want from a Dom, how you want him to treat you. Think through the characteristics of a Dom you’d like to play with. That way when you meet someone and you get to know him, you’ll recognize if he’s a fraud or not.”

She nodded.

“To make sure you understand, I want you to make a list of your top ten requirements from a Dom. We’ll go over it next time we meet.”

Her gaze grew wistful again, but she smiled and replied with a soft, “Yes, Sir.”

•   •   •

T
hat Friday night Sasha stood in her bedroom looking at the box that had been delivered earlier in the day. The accompanying note forbade her to peek until she was getting ready for the party. Since Cole would be at her apartment in twenty minutes to pick her up, she decided it was time.

She took a deep breath and lifted the lid. He’d told her it wouldn’t be black lingerie, and she was excited to see what he picked out. How did he like to see his submissives dress?

She pushed the white tissue to the side and held up a pair of short black shorts. Judging by the cut, they would fit skintight.
Though really, what did it matter? She wouldn’t be wearing underwear anyway.

Next she pulled out a sheer pair of black hose with a seam up the leg and nodded her approval.
Nice.
She’d always admired the way they looked on women. The black shirt he’d selected would cover her back completely. Which was more than she could say about the front.

Standing before the mirror, five minutes later, with hose and shorts on, she tried in vain to pull the plunging neckline up. But no matter how she pulled or rearranged, she wasn’t able to cover more skin. With a sigh, she dropped her hands to her sides and studied her reflection. Maybe if she moved carefully she could keep a nipple from popping out.

She checked the time and slipped on the heels he’d also picked out seconds before she heard him coming up the stairs. When she opened the door to his knock, she found him standing in her doorway wearing black jeans and a T-shirt. She moved aside to let him enter, but he simply stood and studied her.

“The outfit looks fantastic on you,” he said. “I reckon every man at the party is going to picture himself having a go at you. But every man there also knows he isn’t allowed to touch you. The combination will drive them crazy.”

Funny how a year ago, she’d have delighted in his words. At the moment, however, all she wanted to know was if
he
wanted her.

He nodded in her direction. “Step just inside the door and kneel for me.”

She took a step and dropped to her knees, hoping she didn’t tear or put a run in her hose. He followed her inside and closed the door behind him.

“I require higher protocol service at the party,” he said,
coming to a stop before her. “You will not speak unless I give permission. If I’m sitting, you’re to kneel at my feet. You will address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master Johnson
.
’ Any questions?”

Her pulse quickened at this side of him—the demanding Dom side of him. She was surprised at how much it turned her on. “I have no questions, Sir.”

“I’ve been known to mark my property before going to a party. Use her mouth for a quick fuck, pull out, and come on her chest. If you were my slave, would you proudly wear such a blatant display of my ownership?”

Part of her wanted to deny it, say it was too crass, too much. But he’d demanded honesty, and the truth was she wanted him to be so intentional about his claim on her that he marked her in such a primitive way.