UNDER BY DURESS (13 page)

Armed with all the details, Tahima left his office and all but skipped down the corridor. Her first real design. She found Stacey staring into her cubicle with huge, round eyes.

“Honey! You didn’t tell me you had a new admirer. No wonder you’re buzzing this morning.”

Tahima wrinkled her nose at her. “What do you mean?” She entered her cubicle and stopped dead at the sight of the vase of cream roses taking up half her desk.

“There’s a note,” Stacey whispered.

Tahima bit her lip. Her hopes soared as she unclipped the little envelope. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She opened it, grinning at Stacey’s ill-concealed curiosity.

She didn’t recognize the handwriting and there was no name, but she instantly knew who had sent it.

I promised I wouldn’t forget.

Be happy, Tahima.

If you need anything, call this number.

She looked at the number. Then she reread the note. That was it? Be happy? She wanted to cry.

Stacey wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Not an admirer?”

“I think the roses are a gentle letdown, Stacey. No romance, at least not today.” Her voice strained to finish. “Sorry.”

“Aw, hon, you looked radiant there for a moment. Well, if you ask me, he’s the one who’s lost out.”

Tahima turned to her. “Stacey, could you give me a few moments?”

Stacey nodded, patted her hand, and disappeared.

Tahima sat down heavily in her chair. What had she expected? The whole experience had spun them both around. If she hadn’t had the lodge to keep her busy, she’d have lost her mind. The more she thought about their time together, the more she wondered who had been in control.

Rossini was the best dom she’d ever encountered. He had won her trust until she was giving him opportunities to take control. Instead of grabbing them, he had sacrificed his needs, his freedom, to protect her. The more she analyzed every moment they had spent together, the more she understood he had given her all the power. Anything less would have exceeded
her
limits.

And she loved him for knowing and respecting that.

She breathed in the heavenly scent permeating the air and closed her eyes. So . . .  the fantasy was over, only those heady moments before she’d opened the envelope had reawakened her secret hopes and dreams. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and leaned forward. Once again, her future looked bleak and empty, only this time she longed for the man behind her heartbreak.

*****

Two months passed slowly. Tahima expended all her energy on designing her dream lodge, researching costs of the finest materials, and arguing with the structural engineer on how to suspend a glass infinity pool over a canyon within budget and to the building code. She lost weight. She began reading late into the night.

Anything to avoid having time on her hands to think.

Then one night her cell phone rang as she was creeping into bed with a crime thriller. Tahima checked the caller id and snatched it up.

“Bob? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry to call you at home, but I wanted to give you a heads up. The client for the lodge you’re working on has asked to see the plans tomorrow at eleven. I thought you might want an early night.”

Tahima grimaced. She had been struggling to get in to work on time this last week. Her boss had noticed.

“Thanks, Bob. I appreciate the call.”

“No problem. Your design’s amazing, Tahima. No need to fret over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She had hung up before it occurred to her she hadn’t known there was a client. She thought the partners were selling her design as a ready-made kit for the luxury holiday market.

She had barely settled under the covers when the doorbell rang. Tahima sat up and checked the clock. Sakes alive, it was after eleven. When she heard a key turn in the door to her apartment, her heart clawed up her throat. She hadn’t thrown the deadbolt.

Then she launched upright. Stephen . . .

She grabbed her robe, pulled it over her nightdress, and stormed into the living room. Stephen stood there, haughty and commanding as ever.

His eyes swept over her. His lips tightened with disapproval. “Tahima, hell, this is
exactly
what I mean.”

“Stephen, what are you doing here?”

He ignored her question. “You work too hard. You should have given up your job when I suggested it.”

“
Suggested
? Ordered more like. Now will you please go? And give me your key. God! Did you get a copy made?”

“You look like crap. Come back home.”

“I’m fine, and this
is
home. I can’t believe you have the nerve after what you did.”

“I misread the signals. You were begging for it.”

He had said that the last time they met. Then she had burned with shame and self-disgust. Now she boiled with anger.

“I left you, and you whipped and raped me for it, Stephen. In what twisted scenario was I asking for it?”

“If you believe that, why didn’t you report me?”

Tahima turned away. “You know why.”

“I didn’t leave a mark on your body.”

“How can you say that? You held me prisoner until there was no evidence to see! Threatened to out me!”

“I was looking after you,” he protested. “You were hysterical, Tahima. I could never harm you.”

Tahima choked. Rossini had said much the same thing, but hearing Stephen say it made the words sound cheap and tawdry. “Look, Stephen, I’m tired, I have an important meeting tomorrow, and you are not welcome. We’re finished. I want you to go.”

He studied her. Then he slowly and deliberately took off his coat, folded it neatly, and hung it over the armchair. Then he picked up her phone and held it out to her.

“Make me. Call the police. I’ll gladly tell them all about our life together. You know I can prove it.”

Tahima felt her chest tighten. She walked into the kitchenette. Stephen followed her. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she turned the cold faucet on then opened the cabinet where she kept the glasses. She felt for her stun gun with her fingers. Her search grew frantic when all she found was bare wood and glass stems.

“Looking for this?”

She swung around and gasped to see her stun gun in his hand.

“Safer than a gun, but a nasty device in the wrong hands—wished I’d discovered it ages ago.” He placed it against his hand and pressed stun for a brief second. “Ooh, interesting . . .  I can think of a few places to put this.”

Tahima hated him so much in that moment. “What did I ever see in you?”

“I gave you what you needed. You want it still. You know you do. You just need reminding.”

“You despise me,” she hurled back. “You said I was trash.”

He stiffened. Narrow eyes communicated a warning. “You wound me, Tahima. I don’t despise you. I love you. I want you home.”

“You
betrayed
me.”

He shrugged, stepped forward, and turned off the running water. “It was a scene. A ménage a trois. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you? You overreacted. Things were getting tame between us.”

Tahima felt lightheaded. Trapped. Stephen closed the gap between them until they stood toe to toe. She shivered as he ran the stun gun up and down her neck. His fingers loosened her robe, slipped beneath her nightdress and tweaked her nipple painfully.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach erupted in butterflies, but not from pleasure. His overpowering menace ensnared her in his web.

“I’ll be gentle, Tahima.” His free hand caught her wrist and twisted it behind her back. He didn’t hurt her, but she wanted to scream against the helplessness sweeping through her. He used her own wrist to push her against him. He stepped back, taking her with him. He placed the stun gun back in the cabinet, putting it on a shelf beyond her reach.

“Now where were we?” He released her wrist, then enclosed her waist with his hands, lifted her up, and sat her on the island unit dividing the kitchen and living areas.

“Red,” she hissed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You cry wolf too often.”

“So I don’t even get a safe word now?” she snapped.

“You don’t need one.”             

Tahima burst into tears. She was angry, tired, in love with a man she couldn’t have, and now
this
. She couldn’t fight Stephen. Had never been able to fight him—he was buried deep in her psyche. She’d fought to dig him out and thought she had succeeded. Rossini had come so close to freeing her from this need to submit to the demands of her lovers, but he had dumped her too.

With roses.

Stephen grabbed tissues and gently dried her tears. “That’s enough.” The steel in his voice contradicted his actions and confused her. He laid her back on the granite surface, lifted her robe and dress up over her hips and unzipped his trousers.

She cried out as he pushed inside her with no preamble.

“So dry?” He pulled out. “I know what will turn you on.”

“No, Stephen, please, don’t. I’ve got some lube in the bathroom.”

But he stood her up, spun her around, and pushed her rudely over the counter. He grabbed her wrist again, twisted it behind her back, and pressed her breasts into the countertop.

She cried out. “No. Please, Stephen. I don’t want this.”

“What have I said about protesting too much?”

Once again, he lifted her clothing, this time over her naked behind. He tucked the excess under one hip. “You know how to keep score, Tahima. Too low and I’ll repeat the difference. Too high and I’ll add it.”

He slapped the left cheek of her ass hard.

She squealed and tried to kick his shin with her heel.

Stephen laughed. “Want to play rough, eh?” He forced her legs apart and curled one foot around her ankle so it was off the ground. He slapped her again. “How many?”

“Two,” she snarled.

He smacked her again, hard, and she yelped.

“How many?”

She wanted to vomit. “Two,
Sir
.”

“That’s better.”

He landed five blows in quick succession until she was fighting him with every inch of her body. His grip tightened and he spanked her harder, leaving no time for the burn to subside, denying her the relief of a massage to take the edge off. He was punishing her, pure and simple.

He stopped. “How many?”

Tahima sobbed. She had no idea. “Fifteen, Sir.”

He smacked her twice on the back of her legs. “Try again?”

“Seventeen, Sir.”

“Correct.”

He felt between her legs, forcing his fingers into her. She winced. His fingers withdrew and she heard a drawer open.

“We’ll try this. See if it improves your concentration.”

Tahima twisted around and recognized her wooden spoon. “No, that really stings. Please, Stephen. Perhaps if you ease off a bit . . .”

“You love this.”

She grew desperate. “The problem is you. I don’t want you. I don’t want this.”

His grip tightened. “Listen to you. You’re asking for it. Well, young lady, you got it.”

He spanked her so hard, so fast, Tahima screamed blue murder. Within seconds, a towel was being stuffed in her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She bucked and twisted. He missed and the spoon hit her hip. Pain rocketed through her.

“Stay still!”

His grip on her wrist tightened and, suddenly, Tahima was frightened he would snap her arm. She stopped resisting. As Stephen punished her ass and her legs, time became meaningless.

At some point, she passed out.

She came around in a bath of ice-cold water. Shock whooshed the breath out of her body. Stephen’s arms were supporting her from going under.

“Why do you push me so far?” he said.

She gasped for air. “Is it over?”

“Yes, my darling. You’ve had enough tonight. Perhaps you’re right. I need to ease up on you. Ten minutes in water and then I’ll massage cream into your skin. You should see your ass. You won’t be able to sit down tomorrow.” He laughed.

Tahima had no tears left to cry. No strength to fight him. Her head lolled against his shoulder. “I just want to sleep.”

“Then you will. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll look after you.”

For the first time in her life, Tahima wished she owned a gun—one she could load with bullets.

~ Chapter Eleven ~

Tahima awoke to the smell of bacon and the sun streaming through the window. She felt disoriented. Then she moved and pain lanced her behind. Tears sprung to her eyes as she gingerly probed the sore points on her rear. Shame filled her and she knew she would not look at the damage Stephen had inflicted on her. It would pass in a few days. He was too clever to mark her permanently.

Stephen entered with a breakfast tray that he laid on the table.

He helped her to sit up and Tahima nearly collapsed from the pain. “I can’t.”

As usual he missed her point. “You have to eat. You’re too thin. Didn’t you say you have a meeting?”

Tahima checked the clock. It was nine. She paled.

Stephen grinned nastily. “Don’t worry. I’ll drop you off. And if you get fired, I’ll support you. Now eat.”

Tahima said nothing. It was quicker not to argue. She forced herself up. Stephen arranged pillows to support her. She picked at her food and tried not to throw up.

“I’ll collect you from work at five.”

“No—”

“Don’t argue.”

He was stifling her, sucking all the oxygen out the room. She felt faint. “I’m not sure I’m up to work today.”

“You’re going in.” He got up, went to the bathroom and came back with painkiller. He tossed two into his palm. “Take these.”

“They make me woozy.”

“Take them.”

She obeyed. Fifteen minutes later, she was up and moving. Stephen helped her dress. She kept her make up to a minimum, adding concealer to the shadows under her puffy eyes. He brushed her hair, found her shoes, her bag, and took her keys. Now she couldn’t get into her own home without him.

Stephen said very little as he drove her to work, expertly negotiating the traffic. They arrived at her office building at half past ten. Before she got out, he caught her chin and turned her head towards him. His eyes were cold and hard.