The Billionaire Submissive (Billionaires in Bondage) (8 page)

She at least stopped hurling comments back, but she didn’t unbend her stiffness or withdrawal.

“I was wrong. Terribly wrong. You ought to punish me.”

She let her shoulders relax and he sagged against the door in relief. “I don’t know, Mr. Morgan. You haven’t even answered my questionnaire yet so I know what implements to use.”

“Anything. Anything you want.” She didn’t have to drop her gaze to his crotch to know he was aroused again. “Punish me any way you want. I deserve it for insulting you yet again with my ignorance.”

Pretending to think about it, she shifted her portfolio to her other hand and then finally nodded. “Meet me at Dmitri’s tonight at seven.”

“I can pick you up…” She narrowed a glare on him and he raised his hands. “Or not. I’ll just meet you there. But you will allow me to buy you dinner? It’s the least I can do.”

“Very well.”

“And after?” His voice deepened and he dared to touch her arm, just a light brush like he’d take her elbow and escort her to the elevator if she’d allow it.

She gave him a little nod, and he grasped her arm more confidently. He opened the door and she was half-surprised to see the secretary typing away furiously at her desk just feet away instead of hovering outside to eavesdrop. “And after…dessert.”

“Your place or mine?”

His voice was such a rough growl that Miss Wruthers looked up, wide-eyed with alarm. Lilly smiled and waved goodbye to her, but she did lower her voice to ensure his privacy as much as possible. “Yours.”

“Do I need to have any…equipment?”

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Ignoring whoever might be stepping out as well as the watching secretary, she reached up and dragged his mouth to hers for a hearty kiss. “Just this, lover boy.”

Releasing him, she patted his cheek and stepped onto the elevator. Before the door could shut, he blocked it with his hand. Panting, he stared at her as if afraid to let her go. His hair was mussed up, his tie crooked, and those poor tortured trousers would never be the same. “Lilly?”

“Yes, Donovan?”

He cast his gaze down the length of her body to land on her favorite red heels. “Wear these shoes tonight.”

She normally didn’t like to take such blatant orders from a man, but for him… She smiled. “You got it.”

Chapter Five

Dmitri took one look at Lilly’s outfit and let out a soft whistle. “Wow, girl, I can’t wait to see the new man you’re wining and dining tonight.”

“Actually, he’s wining and dining me for a change. So make sure you charge him full price.” Grinning, she twirled around so he got the full impact. After leaving Morgan Industries, she’d gone shopping, determined to find something new that would live up to the billionaire’s social standing while indulging her taste for the erotic. She’d managed to find a retro-style white wiggle dress with big red polka dot cherries. The white wasn’t something she’d normally go for, which is why she liked it. It was surprising. Rather like Donovan Morgan. “You think he’ll like?”

“He’d have to be dead not to like it. So what do you know about this guy?”

She’d been bringing new clients to Dmitri’s ever since she’d gotten into the business, just in case one of her “dates” turned out to be a nutcase. “He’s not a client.”

Dmitri whistled again. “Aha. So Miss Lilly’s on a date tonight, not the Mistress. I’ll be extra vigilant tonight, then.”

He was of the mind that a man paying to have the Mistress’s company would be more respectful than any Joe Blow off the street for fear she’d decide he wasn’t worth the time. She couldn’t argue with his logic; her subs were always extremely respectful even when they weren’t playing a scene. “I’m curious to see what you think of him. He’s not my normal type.”

“Hmmm.” Dmitri winked. “I can’t wait to meet him then.”

A commotion drew her attention to the front of the restaurant. Some of the waitstaff had gathered at the windows and were whispering excitedly. She sighed. “He’s here.”

“How do you know?”

One of the young waitresses squealed. “A limo! Wow, I’ve never seen one so long. Who is it?”

Arching a brow, Dmitri started over to gawk too, but Lilly grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. “Hold on a moment,” she whispered. “I want to see him in action.” At Dmitri’s confused look, she explained. “He’s used to being king of the hill. He’s certainly not used to coming in where everything has already been managed and decided for him. I just want to see what he does.”

“But he’s not a client.”

“Nope.” She smiled. “I’m working for him to do a magnificent stained glass commission, though.”

“Interesting. I hope he’s paying you a lot because I have a feeling you’re going to be banging your head against the wall if he’s used to bossing everyone around.”

She sighed ruefully. “You have no idea.”

They edged closer to the foyer while lingering out of sight. Mr. Morgan strode into the restaurant like the aforementioned king in a perfect black suit that managed to be both simple and sumptuous at the same time, the kind of tailoring that cost a mint. The only thing odd was he didn’t wear any sort of tie and he’d left the top of his shirt open. Strangely informal for such a very formal man.

One of the watching waitresses gasped and someone broke into applause.

He didn’t even spare them a glance.

“Good evening, sir,” the maitre d’ welcomed him. “How can we help you this evening?”

“Your best table in the house please.”

The maitre d’ looked like he was going to burst into tears. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but our best table has already been reserved for the entire evening.”

Actually, Lilly had the table reserved every single Friday evening since Dmitri’s opened, and it wasn’t unusual for her to come in at least once midweek. Okay, maybe two or even three times. When faced with her own mediocre cooking, it was much more tempting to stop by her old friend’s for a delicious reprieve.

Mr. Morgan radiated displeasure, though he didn’t outright scowl. Luckily he didn’t attack the poor man, either, which raised him in both hers and Dmitri’s eyes. Neither one of them had much patience or respect for people who treated those lower than them like trash. “That’s…disappointing. I want this evening to be especially nice. I’m meeting a lady here and everything must be perfect.”

“We have several beautiful tables, sir, and I assure you everything will be perfect for your lady. Perhaps she’s already here? Might I have her name?”

She squeezed Dmitri’s arm and led him into the foyer. “I’m here, Mr. Morgan.”

He turned toward her, a smile beginning to curve his lips. She watched his gaze slide down her body to land on the shoes he’d asked her to wear and his eyes blazed with heat. Inch by inch, he worked his way back up. His face transformed from determined politeness to appreciation to heat to downright hunger. But then he noticed the man with her, and the reserved business mask slipped back into place.

“Miss Harrison, you’re early,” he chided, even while taking her hand and bowing over it to kiss her knuckles. One of the waitresses pretended to swoon. “I wanted to make all the arrangements for you.”

“All the arrangements have already been made, Mr. Morgan. This is the owner, Dmitri Graeme, and my very good friend. Dmitri, this is Donovan Morgan.”

The two men politely shook hands, but Donovan still held himself tightly in control. Jealousy? She couldn’t be sure. He didn’t glare at the other man or even threaten him.

“This way, Mr. Morgan, Miss Harrison.” Dmitri led them to her table and held out the chair for her. Donovan’s face tightened slightly but he seated himself without comment and allowed her friend to push her chair in. “I’ll be serving you personally tonight. If you’d like a different wine, Mr. Morgan, just let me know.”

The wine she’d picked out waited in a chilled bucket, the cork already removed. While Dmitri disappeared into the kitchen, she poured the crisp, sweet moscato into their glasses. “I eat here a lot, so Dmitri already has everything set up for me when I arrive.”

Their table was in a secluded corner near a large fireplace, with a bay window showing off the restaurant’s private garden terrace. Fairy lights hung from the trees and bushes outside. No fire burned in the hearth, not in July, but Dmitri kept an attractive fresh flower arrangement inside the stone. The rest of the restaurant was open and bright, but here, she could sit in the dimmed light and people watch to her heart’s desire.

Donovan took the glass but didn’t drink yet. Watching him, she tried to pinpoint his unease. Because he was uneasy, his fingers restless on the glass. His shoulders were tense beneath the expensive black material. “Dmitri’s very happily married with four kids of his own.”

Donovan’s lips curled but it was more sneer than smile. “Good for him.”

Not jealousy, then. At least not because of the other man. “If you don’t like moscato…”

He deliberately took a large drink of the wine and set his glass down a little too firmly on the table. “It’s fine.”

“I typically start with something light, but I prefer something a bit meatier with my dinner.”

He nodded, obviously trying to make an effort. He looked about the restaurant and fiddled with his salad fork. “I’ve never heard of this place before.”

“It’s the best kept secret in the Twin Cities.”

He gathered all the silverware up and rearranged it. He took another big gulp of wine without even tasting it. Then he started to put all the silverware back into its proper place.

Lilly dropped her hand on his, stilling his restless fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She lowered her voice but kept it whip-strong. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Donovan Morgan.”

Startled, he jerked his head up and met her gaze, his eyes wide with surprise but dilated. He liked the firmer side of her voice, even if she didn’t use it very often. “You brought
them
here. I recognize the restaurant from the pictures.”

She nodded. “I did. As I said, Dmitri’s my friend and I eat here a lot. I’d starve to death if it wasn’t for him.”

A smile hovered on Donovan’s lips and the tension slowly leaked from his shoulders. “You don’t cook?”

“Hardly. I mean, I can nuke something or scramble eggs. Sometimes I can make toast without burning it beyond recognition. I guess I probably wouldn’t starve on my own, but what he makes here is worlds better than anything I can do. Besides, it’s boring to eat alone. I’d rather come here and watch people.” Her explanation took some of the edge off him, but she thought he might appreciate the next part even more. “I have an ulterior motive for bringing new clients here. It’s standard operating safety procedures. I have my car in the employee parking out back. Dmitri’s a great judge of character, and if either of us gets a bad vibe, I head out the back door and make my escape.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t let me pick you up.” Donovan’s eyebrows arched and he turned his hand over to thread his fingers through hers. “Does it happen very often?”

“Only once, but I have to be careful. It’d be presumptuous and stupid of me to think that just because I’m a Mistress, a man wouldn’t try to get one over on me. Some men would love the idea of breaking a woman like me.”

He tightened his grip on her hand, instinctively leaning closer, as if offering his strength and protection. Something warm and sweet began to melt in the pit of her stomach like a rich, decadent chocolate. “Does he approve of me?”

“I do.” Dmitri smiled as he set the basket of bread still warm from the oven before them. “Enjoy.”

“Sorry.” She laughed softly at the disgruntled look on Donovan’s face. “He’s very good at what he does, so he tends to pop up when you least expect him. I swear he’s telepathic. If I even think about wanting…”

Dmitri set a small saucer of softened butter at her right hand. “Just like you like it, Miss Harrison.” And then he was gone back into the kitchen.

She gently removed her hand from Donovan’s because there was no way in hell she was going to sit here with fresh hot bread and butter without eating some. “See?” He watched her slather butter—a lot of butter—on her roll, a bemused smile on his face. “I should probably warn you that I like to eat. I mean, I
really
like to eat. I’m not going to sit here and pretend to eat like a bird just because I’m on a date.”

“I wondered why he brought so much butter.”

Settling back in her chair, she took a bite, savoring the rich yeasty roll. “Like I said, he knows what I like. Dmitri makes his own bread every single day and he only keeps real butter. FYI, the whipped cream on his desserts is also real. It never comes out of a can and it’s certainly not hydrogenated oil. I don’t come here to diet. I come here to eat.”

Donovan buttered his own roll but didn’t devour it like she did hers. “If he knows what you like…”

She nodded. “He knows what I am.” Waiting to see his reaction, she took another mouthful of roll.

Donovan set the roll down on his bread plate and picked up his wine glass. He didn’t drink immediately. His fingers started to turn white on the stem.

He doesn’t want people to know about him. About us. Not that way.

She couldn’t really blame him. In his world, he was a rich, powerful CEO of a billion-dollar company. The kind of man who barked out his orders and people jumped to obey his every whim. Not the kind of man who would go to his knees in his Mistress’s presence. Certainly not the kind of man who’d beg for Her whip and then thank Her for it.