Ultimatum (2 page)

I stumbled out of the stall, still shaking, but at least I’d stopped vomiting. Katherine, the receptionist, quirked an eyebrow as she reapplied her lipstick. “Let me guess, knocked up?”

“Bad food at lunch today.” Refusing to rise to her bait, I joined her at the sink and calmly washed my hands. Katherine was one of those preppy girls, the kind who never had a hair out of place and wouldn’t be caught in a morgue wearing anything other than a designer label. She also didn’t hesitate to bare her claws if she thought someone was poaching on her turf. In her ice-blue eyes, Gage Channing was off-limits to everyone but herself.
 

Why couldn’t he have chosen her to torment and terrorize?
 

I left the restroom, praying she wouldn’t feed the office grapevine with stories of a pregnancy, and got stuck in rush-hour traffic on my way to BodyScape Spa, which proved to be a more humiliating experience than I imagined. Maybe it was because of Glenda’s familiarity with “Mr. Channing’s preferences,” but I couldn’t help but speculate on the number of women he’d sent there. Had there been others like me? Women he’d coerced and blackmailed? Or had they gone willingly? Gage was exceptionally attractive, and he was wealthy and successful to boot. A formidable package for sure, rolled into six feet of toned body, a head full of black hair, and a striking gaze that had the ability to pin you to the wall. I wasn’t immune to how easy on the eyes my boss was.
 

For the past three years, I’d been immune to men period, and I’d certainly never entertained the idea of going to bed with my employer. It weirded me out to realize he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to ensnare me—to subject me to his twisted brand of sexual games.
 

“This’ll hurt,” Glenda warned. She ripped the wax off my leg like a Band-Aid. I bit my lip to keep from groaning. I should be grateful it wasn’t my bikini area. Gage had given Glenda instructions to leave me natural, but trimmed, down there.
 

The rest of the appointment went by much like the past hour had—in a daze. By the time I unlocked my car, night had fallen, and my nerves had multiplied. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t think twice about driving to the Hospital. I’d be late due to the detour, but I wasn’t about to disappear on Eve without saying goodbye. Two days was a long time to someone so young.

Downtown Portland reflected a glittering skyline on the Willamette River, and Christmas lights lit up Pill Hill—which was home to the hospital. The temperature had dropped, and I was still rubbing my hands together when I arrived on Eve’s floor.
 

“Good evening, Kayla,” the nightshift nurse said, “Eve’s been asking for you.”
 

Guilt clawed at my gut. How could I expect my baby to understand? “Thanks, Mel.” I headed to Eve’s room, and her tiny face lit up the instant she saw me. Every day she grew paler, smaller—the hospital bed nearly swallowed her whole—but her eyes still sparkled with innocence.
 

“Hi, baby.”

“Mama! Look what I color?” Eve proudly displayed her scribbled doodle.
 

“You drew this? You’re so talented.” I pulled her into a tight hug and held on a little longer than I normally would. The thought of being away for two days broke my heart. God, I was going to miss her. I blinked back tears and tucked her into bed. She jabbered on for a few minutes, words only a mother could detect without asking her to repeat them a dozen times.
 

“Eve,” I began gently, “I’ve gotta go away—”
 

“Hello, Kayla.”

My breath stalled at the sound of his voice. Time had done nothing to erase it from my mind. I slowly turned. He stood in the doorway, a stethoscope dangling from his neck. God, he was a doctor now. Last I’d seen him, he’d been on the verge of entering medical school.
 

Last I’d seen him, I’d broken both of our hearts.
 

“Ian . . . it’s been a long time.” What kind of idiotic response was that? Seven years, and that was all I could come up with?

His hazel gaze darted to Eve, and I didn’t have to guess at the confusion on his face. Seven years ago I’d been pregnant; Eve was three. “And apparently a lot has happened since.” He brought a hand up and fiddled with the pen in his shirt pocket, and his eyes drifted to my left hand. Sometimes I still felt the phantom weight of my wedding band.
 

“You work here now?” I asked before he could ask the questions I saw in his eyes—the ones I didn’t want to answer.
 

“Just transferred from Salem.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “I heard your daughter was here. I wanted to come by and see you. See if I could do anything to help.” He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded like this.”

“It’s okay, you’re not.”
 

He moved to Eve’s bedside; she’d settled into a light doze. “Leukemia?”
 

I wrapped my arms around myself and nodded.
 

“What phase is she?”

“Acute. She stopped responding to chemo.”
 

“Jesus, Kayla.” He ran a hand through his short hair; it was lighter than I remembered. “I’m sorry.”
 

“We’re not giving up.” I lost count of how many times I recited the phrase daily.

Ian was about to say more when my cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and upon recognizing Gage’s number, willed my face into a neutral mask. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I . . . I have a business trip this weekend. I tried getting out of it.” I nibbled on my lip and looked at Eve. “I hate leaving her.”
 

Ian pulled out a prescription tablet and wrote down his number. “Call me if you need anything. Or even if you don’t . . . well, you know how to reach me now.” His fingers brushed mine, lingering a few seconds as he passed me the slip of paper, and that familiar spark that had been dormant for so long sprung to life. My heart thundered in my ears as our eyes met.

He started to move away. “Ian, wait—” I grabbed his arm. “There is something you can do for me.” I let go of his sleeve. “Can you keep an eye on Eve for me? You know, if you’re gonna be here?”

“That’s not a problem. I can do that.”
 

A lock of hair fell over his brow. I clenched my fists to keep from brushing it back. “Thank you.”
 

“No problem. I’ll see you when you get back.” He hesitated a few seconds, and then noiselessly disappeared into the hall.
 

3. T
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I barely remembered the drive to Gage’s place in Portland Heights. My GPS directed me there, but if I needed to repeat the trip without assistance I’d more than likely get lost. A wall of trees cradled his massive house, affording a sense of seclusion even though the city sparkled below. Willing my skittish feet to stay put, I rapped on the door.
 

He yanked it open. “You’re late.” He took one look at my business suit and frowned. “Training you is going to be a challenge, I see.” The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he relished the idea. Gage gestured for me to enter the foyer. He grabbed my purse before I could protest and rifled through it. “Hand over your phone, too.”

“I need it in case the hospital calls.”

“I’ve arranged for them to call me in case of an emergency.”

Wondering how he’d managed that, I reluctantly handed him my cell. He also took my coat, and then locked all of my belongings in a closet by the door. We stepped down into the living room. His home had been designed with a modern edge; vaulted ceilings, light oak flooring, and taupe walls that had surely never been victim to small, sticky fingerprints. His personality was stamped all over the sharp angles, the glass and steel.
 

I didn’t get the grand tour. He ushered me to a door, which opened into a black hole of a basement.
 

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll address me as Master when we’re alone.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “Is that clear?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I assure you, I am definitely not kidding, and the sooner you accept your place here, the easier it’ll be on you. You’ve just arrived, and already you’ve got two strikes against you, Kayla.”

“For what?”

“Disobeying me. I told you to come naked, and you arrived late.” He gestured for me to precede him down the stairs.
 

“I had to say goodbye to Eve. I couldn’t disappear on her for the weekend without seeing her first.” I grasped his arm to keep from stumbling. He flipped a switch, and the basement flooded with soft light.
 

The room was rectangular, dark and windowless, with deep crimson walls that matched the comforter on the king-sized bed; Gage had already laid several items on the end. A rack of cuffs, chains, whips, paddles, and God only knew what else hung on the far wall. An odd-looking bench sat in front of the display. Not certain what the X on the wall, the hooks in the floor and ceiling, or the plethora of items on the shelves were used for, I tore my gaze from the terrifying sight. A group of comfy chairs were arranged on a throw rug at the opposite end. Across from the bed a swanky bathroom, outfitted with a whirlpool tub and separate shower, could be seen through an archway.
 

Gage fisted my hair and yanked me against him. “These are my rules. Remember them.” He trailed a hand down my throat, and his fingers settled on the buttons of my blouse. “Number one, don’t fight me. If you do you’ll be punished.” He slowly unfastened each one, taking the time to brush his fingers against my skin. “Two, unless I’ve given you permission to speak freely, always call me Master when we’re alone.” He slid his hand inside and palmed my breast. “And three, obey without hesitation. Do you understand these rules?”

“I-I understand.” I forced the words past my quivering lips.
 

He let out a low chuckle. “I don’t think you do. I think it’s time for your first punishment.” He gripped my hair even tighter. “Before we go any further, you need to choose a safe word.”

“And if I say this word . . . you’ll stop?”

“Yes. And then I turn you over to the authorities. Neither of us wants that.”

“Then what’s the point in choosing a safe word? You know I won’t use it.”
 

“Because what happens here will be on my terms, but ultimately your choice. I won’t move forward without it, so choose wisely, something you won’t forget or accidentally say.” He withdrew his hand from my breast and put a few inches between us. “It’s the only word that will save you from your punishment. Screaming, crying, begging me to stop, none of those tactics will work.”

“You sick bastard.”

“You might consider showing me some respect—I’m the only person standing between you and a jail cell.”

“Rick.”

“Rick what?”

“Rick is my safe word.”

“Who is Rick?”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “Someone I don’t like to talk about.”

“Answer the question. You’ll withhold nothing from me.”
 

“He’s my ex-husband.”

“An interesting choice for a safe word. Why’d you choose it?”
 

“Because I don’t like to think about him, much less speak his name.”
 

He whirled me around and curled his fingers around my wrists, then forced them to my sides. “Don’t ever close yourself off to me again. I want your legs open and your arms at your sides. Always.” He parted my blouse; the material slid down my arms and floated to the floor.
   

Gage grabbed a thin strip of leather from the bed. “A collar to mark you as mine. It’s discreet enough to wear in public. Don’t take it off.” He encircled my neck, then reached for a set of leather cuffs. “Give me your hands.”
 

Instinctively, I shook my head. “Gage, what are you gonna do?”

His startling eyes pinned me. “I’ve been lenient. Until you agree to address me as Master, you’ll not be allowed to speak.” He grasped an odd ball contraption and mashed it against my lips. “Open your mouth.”
 

Trepidation set in. “You don’t need to do this. I’ll call you Master.”
 

“Yes you will. Now open your mouth.” I feared the command in his tone, the underlying threat that if I didn’t do as told, being gagged would be the least of my worries. I parted my lips, and the taste of rubber assaulted my tongue. He fastened the straps tight enough to make my jaw ache.

“Whenever your mouth is otherwise engaged—” his lips curved into a wicked grin, and I could only imagine what he was thinking “—you can snap your fingers in lieu of saying your safe word.” He grabbed my hands and yanked them up, hooking them above my head. “Spread your legs.”

My skirt bunched around my thighs as I obeyed, revealing a scrap of white panties. My pulse drummed in my ears, drowned out everything else as he kneeled down and fastened two more cuffs around my ankles. He placed a bar between them, ensuring I remained spread for him.
 

Gage stood and slowly pulled on a tether. “On your toes.”
 

My eyes grew wide as he hoisted me up, and an unintelligible sound escaped me. The position made my breasts jut out, caused my legs to wobble until I was able to gain balance. I shifted my wrists, but they wouldn’t budge. My arms and shoulders burned. How long was he going to make me stand like this? Better yet, what was he going to do?
     

I had my answer a moment later. He grabbed a pair of scissors and moved toward me. I panicked, let out a muffled cry as he came closer.
 

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I want you naked.” He slid the cool metal along my skin and cut away my bra. Tears overflowed as my breasts spilled free, right into the warmth of his waiting palms.