The Submissive's Last Word (The Power to Please #4) (2 page)

I smiled vacantly. “Yeah. I mean ... no. What?”

Xavier didn’t glance over at me, just kept his eyes on his
line. “He didn’t invite Paulina and me. Asked me to prepare a meal for two.
Guess it will just be you and him.”

“Well, guess I’d best show up. Can’t say no to the lord of
the manor, after all.”

Xavier shot me a look. “You can say no, if you want. He
wouldn’t want you to feel any obligation.”

I knew that, dammit, and it annoyed me that Xavier put me on
the spot by saying it out loud. “I’m only kidding around. Ha ha. You know. The
great Laird. The master. Monarch of the glen and so on.”

Xavier’s made no reply.

“Anyway, hmm ...” I maintained a steady eye on my red
bobber, my concern that there might be something happening out there under the
water a mere pretense.

Xavier studied his own line and left me to my scattered
thoughts.

Gibson had invited me to dinner. Sort of. He had,
technically, asked Xavier to invite me to dinner. Why didn’t Gibson ask me
himself?

He never called me anymore. He could have texted me. Why
didn’t he text me?

Argh. I hated this wishy-washy, does-he, doesn’t-he crap.
What was I — 15?

I wanted to shake myself all over, fling off my doubt and
insecurity. And yet I didn’t. I wallowed in uncertainty.

Xavier reeled in his line, checked his bait, added some more,
then tossed his line back into the water. “So, had any new ideas lately?”

I made a non-committal sound.

“Given any more thought to returning to school?”

“No, I won’t be going back to school. I’ve had enough of
that.”

“How about Elaine’s offer? Have you given her an answer?”

Elaine Hoyte had offered me the position of manager in one
of their stores.

“I told her no,” I said. “I don’t have any experience in
retail. I wouldn’t want to screw up one of her stores just because she and Ron
feel sorry for me.”

Xavier looked at me sharply. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. I just ... come on. They offered me the job to be
nice. I couldn’t do it.”

“That’s fine, but there’s no reason to assume you’d fail at
the job. You’d have a lot to learn, but you’re capable of learning it.”

“I suppose.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So what’s the real reason you turned down the job?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Could be pride.”

I pursed my lips. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So you’re an annoying man sometimes.”

He shrugged.

I tugged on my line, took a sip of water. “If I’m so
prideful then what am I doing here freeloading off of Gibson, and you and
Paulina?”

“Oh, not me and Paulina. This is all Gibson. You’re
freeloading off of him alone.”

I had a mental “ack” moment, hearing Xavier say it out loud
the way he did. I could call myself a freeloader all I wanted, but it was
different hearing someone else say it. “You’re right. I should leave.”

“No, you shouldn’t. And if you try, we’ll do our best to
stop you. However ...”

He paused for a moment, turned to catch my eye and held my
gaze with his own warm, steady one. “Since I first saw you, before I ever
actually met you, I sensed something in you, that you were someone on the verge
of action. You wouldn’t be stopped from breaking free of whatever was holding
you back.”

He turned to the lake. “And now, here you are. Stopped. A
woman of action, refusing to move.”

My face flushed. I felt my pulse ramp up a bit. “I didn’t
stop it. Michael did that to me.”

“At first maybe. But that’s not why you’re stopped now.”

I flicked my rod up and down, watched the bobber dance on
the surface of the water. I wanted to snap at Xavier, tell him he didn’t know
what he was talking about. Instead, I said nothing.

He gave a quick pull on his rod and the line tightened in
the telltale visual that he had caught a fish. The rod bent as he rapidly
reeled in the line. It didn’t take long before he landed a good-sized trout.

I complimented his haul as he removed the hook and tossed
the fish into the holding basket. Soon, he had a freshly-baited line whizzing
out over the lake.

He settled back and dug a couple of butterscotch hard
candies from his shirt pocket. He handed me one and together, we unwrapped the
candies and popped them in our mouths.

The sugary scent of the candy mingled with the lake smells.
The water lapped gently at the dock posts, and dragonflies buzzed the surface
of the water.

I didn’t say what I wanted to say, which was that maybe this
place had spoiled me, and I’d never been anywhere so magical, so perfectly
easy, and maybe that was why I couldn’t make a plan, why I couldn’t move. Any
plans I might make involved leaving. No one in their right mind would want to
leave this place. Or these people.

Or one, powerful man in particular, a man who visited me in
my dreams and called me beautiful, who touched me in a way that made me believe
no one had ever humiliated or degraded me. With him I felt whole again. Maybe
only with him. Maybe only here.

How could I move if the only path I could travel led me away
from what I needed most?

But I didn’t say any of that to Xavier. We sat in silence
and enjoyed the sweet butterscotch. And waited for the fish to bite.

Chapter 2

At seven o’clock that evening I stood before the kitchen
door and willed myself to knock. Some perverse side of me had turned me away
from the front of the house and led me to the back side, to the ivy-framed
kitchen door of the massive, Italian-villa style home.

The formal, arched stone entryway to the house scared me
away for some reason, made my invitation to dinner seem too much like an event.
If I showed up at the kitchen door, then I was just a neighbor over for a
casual meal.

Anyway, when Gibson was gone, I always entered the big house
through the kitchen.

I knocked on the door, expecting to hear Xavier yell out for
me to enter. Nothing. I knocked again, and when no answer came, I turned the
knob and let myself in.

After taking a quick tour of the big room, I realized no one
was there. I noticed some dishes on a counter, covered pots on the stove, and a
large pan warming in the oven. I rapidly deduced that Xavier had made the meal,
then left for his own home.

I debated between wandering into the house at large and
yelling around for Gibson, or backtracking outside and knocking on the front
door like a normal person would have done in the first place. I opted for the
normal approach, for a change.

I had just reached for the door handle when I heard a sound
behind me.

“There you are,” a familiar voice said. “Trying to sneak out
before we even eat?”

The smooth, deep tones sent a warming tendril curling in my
belly. Gibson.

I turned and looked at him a little shyly. “I never know
what the protocol is here.”

He looked his usual handsome self, his dark hair brushed
back from his forehead. He was dressed casually this evening, in cotton pants
and a jersey shirt. His smile told me he was pleased to see me. “No protocol.
Just me.”

“I guess. I keep getting the feeling that an elderly lady is
going to pop out of a corner and scold me for not having manners appropriate
for a mansion.”

“Then she’d be more guilty of bad manners than you.”

“She wouldn’t care. She’d say, ‘It isn’t done, Missy. It’s
simply not done!’”

“Sounds like you’ve thought this through.”

“I may be watching too much ‘Masterpiece.’”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “I still say she’d be out of
line. And this is hardly a mansion.”

“How many rooms does this thing have — thirty? More? That’s
a mansion.”

The door swinging open ended our debate. One of the servants
came up short when she saw the two of us standing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t mind us, Charity,” Gibson said. “We’re on our way to
the dining room.” He looked at me and motioned to the door. “Shall we?”

I nodded and gave Charity a quick hello as I passed her. She
was an introverted, shy young woman, who I’d met during previous forays into
the big house.

Gibson told her she could go ahead and serve our meal as
soon as she was ready. I led the way out the swinging door and down the hall to
the dining room.

I liked the dining room. It wasn’t an ornate formal room,
but instead, like the rest of the home, of a rustic design. Everything may have
been modeled along the lines of historical Italian villas, but in a rural,
farm-like sort of way.

Xavier told me that Gibson’s father built the house, but
that he hadn’t completed it at the time of his death. Gibson finished what his
father began, furnishing many of the rooms with treasures from his travels.

The dining room, for instance, had a huge, rough-hewed table
that must have weighed a ton. It had all the gouges and flaws that come with
great age. It was gorgeous, and suited the exposed beams in the high ceiling,
the unpolished patina of the picture frames and bureaus.

Gibson pulled out a chair for me. “I hope you don’t mind
that we’re eating right away. I’m starving and haven’t had a decent meal since
I left home.”

I assured him I didn’t mind, and busied myself with laying
my napkin on my lap.

He poured us both some wine, then sat at the end of the table
near me. He sipped his wine and appeared contented with it. “I hear I should
thank you for our dinner tonight. Xavier said you were kind enough to catch our
main course.”

“I only caught one. Xavier caught the others.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fisherwoman.”

“Why not?”

“Good question. I’m not sure.”

“Well, you were right,” I said. “I’ve never been big on
outdoor stuff.”

“You seem to be taking to it now.”

“I like fishing, anyway. I’ve been trying to figure out what
Xavier puts in his special bait.”

Gibson gave a wry grin. “Good luck with that. I’ve been
trying to get that secret out of him for more than a decade and he’s never even
given me a hint.”

“I might as well give it up, then. If he hasn’t told you, he
sure won’t tell me.”

“I don’t know. He’s taken a liking to you.”

“I like him, too. He’s ... well, he’s good company. Easy to
be with.”

“True. How are you liking everyone else? And the estate? Are
you enjoying yourself?”

“Everyone’s wonderful. And you know how amazing this place
is.”

He nodded slowly. “Good. You look better. Your color is
improved and you’ve filled out again.”

I sat my glass on the table and arched an eyebrow. “I
suppose I should accuse you of calling me fat. Consider yourself accused, and
me offended.”

“Done. And I hope you’ll consider yourself groveled to, and
that I’ve thoroughly regretted ever mentioning it.”

“Done.”

We grinned at one another.

I realized that for the first time in a long time, I was
happy.

Charity broke the moment by bustling into the room and
delivering a pair of salads to the table. She poured some water into our
glasses then rushed back out again.

My plate was loaded with crisp, mixed greens and vegetables
from Paulina’s greenhouse, and the dressing was made with fresh herbs from
Paulina’s gardens. During my time at the estate, I didn’t believe I’d ever
eaten as well.

Gibson and I kept our conversation light during the meal,
mostly commenting on the food, on Xavier’s cooking talents, on Paulina’s green
thumb, and on the bounty of the estate. I entertained Gibson with the tale of
the first time I caught and gutted a fish, and about how many omelets I burned
before Xavier managed to help me make one that was edible.

Gibson, in turn, told me about the biggest fish he ever
caught and how Xavier had long since given up on him ever being able to cook
anything that wasn’t on a barbeque grill. Apparently, Gibson was a mad griller.

The trout was delicious, as was the desert of fresh compote
made from the fruit that was picked in the orchard. Everything we ate that
night was grown on the estate.

When we finished, Gibson led me into one of the sitting
rooms. I sank into the soft, aged leather sofa and drank the coffee that
Charity served us before Gibson told her he wouldn’t be needing her any more
that night.

I knew something was coming, of course. I didn’t imagine
that Gibson had invited me over for a simple dinner and chitchat. And I didn’t
dare to dream that he had brought me here to seduce me. He hadn’t even so much
as kissed me since the day I accosted him in my apartment and basically
demanded that he service me.

Gibson leaned back in his big easy chair, one ankle crossed
over his knee, a pose that was becoming familiar to me. He set his coffee on
the side table and looked at me.

Here it came, I thought. Whatever it was, it was coming now.

“I thought you might want to know that I decided not to
purchase Linton Cosmetics,” he said.

“Huh,” was my only response. I was surprised. Was this news
the reason why he invited me? Didn’t seem important enough to warrant a dinner
invitation. Still, prior to being forced to quit because of the pornographic
videos Michael Weston had made of me, I had worked for Linton Cosmetics for
many years, and I was close to several people there. Or at least, I had been
close to them, once upon a time.

I studied Gibson’s face. He seemed relaxed, no sign of that
enigmatic mask of his. “What made you decide against it?”

“It turned out the Linton family had only one thing I
wanted, and once I got that, I found I wasn’t interested in the actual business
anymore.”

One thing he wanted. He meant me, perhaps. But he didn’t
actually have me. “I imagine the Lintons are disappointed, and I’m not sorry
for it. I’m sorry for Isabel, though. She wanted the sale to go through. Now
she’ll be forced to keep dealing with the Linton family.”

Isabel Vinson was my former boss and mentor. She hadn’t
wanted to let me go, had fought to allow me to quit instead of being fired. She
promised to rehire me when the sale of the business went through. That wouldn’t
be happening now. Not that it mattered. Too many people at Linton Cosmetics
knew about my videos, making it impossible for me to ever work with them again.

“Isabel is fine with my decision,” Gibson said. “She put in
her notice, and she’ll be heading up the cosmetics division at Roundtree
Holdings by the end of next month.”

“You didn’t! You hired Isabel away from Linton?”

“I did.”

“That’s fabulous, Gibson. The Lintons must be furious. Oh, I
wish I could have seen their faces when Isabel told them. That must have been
epic.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I’m so happy for Isabel, and you, too. You’re lucky to get
her.”

“I agree.”

“Wow, well, that’s great,” and I trailed off as a thought
occurred to me. Isabel was the one thing he wanted at Linton Cosmetics. Not me.
Well hell. Still, it was great news.

“I also thought,” Gibson said, “you might want to know that
we believe all the DVDs of your videos have been confiscated and destroyed.
Also, there’s been no evidence of your files floating around the Internet. It’s
likely we caught it early enough that no one had a chance to back up their
purchases. Regardless, your files remain on a watch list. I think that for all
practical purposes, we can call this a positive final outcome, and you don’t
need to worry about it anymore.”

The smile had fallen from my face with this news. It wasn’t
that I wasn’t pleased to hear it. I was. It was simply that I tried not to
think about those videos. I had become adept at pretending the videos didn’t
exist, that nothing bad had happened, and I could maintain the delusion for
hours at a time.

Nonetheless, I was grateful. “Thank you. What you did is
remarkable, and I’ll never forget it.”

As was usual with him, Gibson waved off my thanks. “I have
more news, and I’m sorry that it isn’t all good.”

“Oh, okay. Well ...”

“We’re still unable to pinpoint Michael’s location, though
we’re narrowing it down more and more.”

“I don’t care about that. I told you. There’s no point.”

“I think there is,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I
haven’t told you, but Michael isn’t the only man I’ve been seeking. I’ve been
looking for the other men in the video as well.”

I forgot to breathe for a moment, felt the room tilt.

He noticed my reaction. “Just hear me out. I easily tracked
down the cameraman and the audio man. It didn’t take much to convince them that
their futures would be best served by pursuing new careers in another part of
the country. They’ve been gone for a while now.”

I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure what to feel. So I
just sat there, letting this new information sink in. I played out the scene in
my head.

I imagined Gibson in full, dead-calm force explaining to the
two pieces of cowering scum that they’d worn out their welcome in the city. I
pictured the two men scrambling home, throwing a few things into a bag and
running away before Gibson ... before Gibson did what? I didn’t know. Something
awful. Before Gibson did something awful that they’d dearly deserve.

And then I knew how to feel. Gratified. That was the only
word for it. Gratified that Gibson made them run away. And relieved. Relieved
that I would never see them on the street, or in a store, or a club. I’d never
see them again. Gibson would make sure of it.

I was glad he’d run them off. I hoped they were terrified.
Hoped they stayed terrified.

If Gibson and I were still lovers, this news would have
earned him whatever the hell he wanted from me. Of course, I was pretty much
willing to do that anytime. As it was, I couldn’t recall a time when he looked
sexier.

Gibson eyed me closely. “Unfortunately, I’ve been less
successful finding the third man, Kamun.”

With that, whatever I was feeling changed into a sick twist
in my gut. Kamun. It was foul on the tongue and revolted the ear. Kamun.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, not trusting myself to speak.

“From what we’ve pieced together,” he continued, “Kamun went
on the run not long after Michael left town. He was on his own for a while,
then he met up with Michael in Brazil. As far as we know, they’re traveling
together now. Kamun’s only family is an elderly father and a younger brother,
both of whom he’s estranged from. They say they haven’t heard from him in
years, and I’ve no reason to doubt them.”

God. Kamun was with Michael. The two filthy fuckers
together, roaming who knew where, doing who knew what. I couldn’t stand the
thought of it. Didn’t want to think of it. I wished Gibson had never told me.

Gibson rose from his chair and sat beside me on the sofa.
“Look at me.”

I did, but not without hesitation.

He reached out and took my cold hand into his warm one. “I
don’t want to upset you with this. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t believe it was
necessary. You’re doing better now. You’re stronger. I think it’s time that you
face what happened.”

I tried, unsuccessfully, to pull my hand away. “I’ve done
nothing but deal with what Michael did. I don’t have any choice but to face
it.”