ARROGANT MASTER (16 page)

Waverly spots the right and exhales loudly. She’s
better
equipped to deal with those things than I am with her
saintly patience and sweet demeanor. I glance around to make sure I’m still
alone and use the opportunity to finally check my texts from Dane.

TEN HOURS. DON’T BE
LATE.

I scroll down to read his second message, the one he sent
when I didn’t answer the first right away.

IGNORING ME, ANGEL? TSK.
TSK. YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT ALLOWED.

I’m grinning hard on the inside, trying to think of
something clever to respond with, but before I get the chance, I spot
Cort
walking my way. I shove the phone away again,
envisioning a bathroom break in my immediate future. It’s going to be the only
way.

“Burgers are ready,” Dad calls out before
Cort
has a chance to make any snide remarks.

“Oh, good, I’m starving.” I slip past the punch bowl and
past
Cort
and help my sister round up our younger
siblings. I’d rather be put to work than spend another moment by his side like
some doting fiancé. Any other day I’d have no problem pretending, but my
patience is paper-thin today.

“Let me help,” I hear Cortland say, assuming the spot next
to my dad. He grabs a pair of tongs and a plate of patties, and my father
splits the buns.

What a team.

“Aren’t you going to sit with Cortland?” One of my younger
sisters, Gretchen, asks when we settle down at one of the tables a few minutes
later. She’s only six, but nothing gets past her. She knows he’s a mainstay in
our family.

“Yeah,” Gideon, her twin brother, echoes. “He keeps looking
at you. I think he wants you to sit by him.”

I spin around and catch his glance. He’s sitting next to
Summer
at another table, but the spot next to him appears to
be reserved for me.

The show must go on.

“You two are right. I should sit by him, shouldn’t I?” I
climb out of the designated kid table and trek over to my rightful place, my
reluctance in hand. “So sorry. I guess I’m just used to sitting with the kids
when we eat outside.”

I choke down my burger in silence, focusing on the chirp of
the birds in the trees and wishing they were loud enough to drown out the
dreadfully boring conversation my father and
Cort
are
having from opposite ends of the table. My father doesn’t have many friends,
and most of his connections are AUB-related, but
Cort
has, without a doubt, secured his spot as his official best bud.

The sun peaks in the sky, and I glance at the clock on the
pool house. Maybe another hour,
two max,
before the
McGregor clan gets out of our hair.

I can do this. I can do
this. I can do this.

My mind drifts to a faraway place, one where I’m some
sophisticated courtesan about to get all dolled up and spend a night ravished
in some castle by some arrogant prince who could have any woman he so desired,
but he chose me.

And I then I flood with electric warmth when I realize my
fairytale is
one-hundred
percent reality.

***

It’s almost seven.

They’re still here.

Evidently the McGregor family has never heard of outstaying
a welcome.

They’ve been here since noon, and no one’s showing signs of
leaving anytime soon. I haven’t seen a single yawn or heard anyone utter an
“It’s been fun!” or a “We better head out now.” Dad and Walter are yapping away
like two long-lost friends, and the sister wives haven’t moved from their spots
around their picnic table. The children are on their second wind, and no one’s
so much as mentioned anything about taking them inside for baths and bedtime
routines soon.

This was supposed to be a simple cookout.
A
get-to-know-you lunch.
Now it’s about to turn into a backyard camping
extravaganza if they don’t leave soon.

I should be soaking in a hot bath right now, lathering
myself with rose-scented bubbles and daydreaming about the look on Dane’s face
when he sees me tonight. He’ll get that flicker I’ve seen in his eyes a couple
of times, and his full lips will twitch just enough for me to catch the promise
of his dimples.

Something tells me I haven’t seen anything yet. While our
moments together have been bordering on intense, at least in my naïve little book,
I know I’ve yet to see the full extent of his dominance.

My cheek rests against my hand as I peel chipped paint off
the top of the picnic table. The hot slickness between my thighs mixes with the
sudden realization that if the
McGregors
don’t leave
soon, tonight might not happen.

Dane would be
furious
,
and that would be an understatement.

I’m not sure how I’d even explain something like that.

And he buried his uncle today. The man needs a release. I
bet he’s craving me just as much as I’m craving him right now.

I spring into action and trek over to the sister wives.

“Should we get the kids ready for bed soon?” I deliver my
suggestion gently, resting my hands on my mother’s shoulders like some dutiful
daughter before turning to Kath. “I’m happy to run a bath for the twins.”

No one says anything for a moment. They all exchange looks
like I’ve just called curfew and ended the most exciting party in the history
of the world.

“Didn’t
Cort
tell you?” Judy says,
batting her eyes. “We brought over our projector. We’re going to make this into
a family movie night. It’s a McGregor tradition, but we figured since our
families will be merging we may as well share it with the Millers.”

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

This isn’t happening.

“No.” I swallow the hard lump residing in the center of my
throat. “Cortland didn’t say anything about it.”

“We brought over
The
Little Rascals
.” Marcy claps her hands together. “The nineties remake. Have
you guys seen it?”

“We have it!” Summer laughs. “The children love it.”

“Ours too.” Marcy bats her hand like a playful kitten, and
I’m pretty sure they just became best friends.

“Oh, Bellamy,” Mom says. “Can you and Waverly grab some of
the lounge chairs from the pool shed? Let’s make sure everyone has a seat.”

I’m going to be here all night unfolding lounge chairs.

And then I’m going to be here all night watching
Little Rascals
.

After that, I’m going to be here all night, lying wide awake
in my bed and stewing about the night that never happened and all the delicious
things Dane was going to do to me. I was almost looking forward to being tied
up.

Almost.

And now I know it’s not going to happen, I want it even
more.

I’ll have to make it up to him on Monday.

I disappear into the pool shed and slip my phone out to fire
off a text.

WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO
RAIN CHECK TONIGHT. CAN’T GET AWAY. SO SORRY!

It’s impossible to express just how sorry I am via text, but
I don’t have time to hem and haw over wording. I’ve barely enough time to send
the text as-is and not get caught.

I yank out a folded lounger when my phone goes off.

That was quick.

EXCUSE ME?

I don’t have time to argue with him or play these back and forth
games where he reminds me he’s in charge, and I just crossed him. I fire back a
quick message and put my phone away.

CAN’T EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW.
SEE YOU MONDAY.

Lingering another few seconds, I wait for him to reply.

CALL ME. NOW.

My heart sinks. He’s upset. I get that. I want to be there
with him more than he could possibly know.

I CAN’T TALK. I’M SO
SORRY. SEE YOU MONDAY.

I switch my phone off because I know he’ll keep texting me,
and I’ll keep responding, and the night will only become ten times worse than
it already is. None of it is in my control. I can’t make the
McGregors
leave, and I can’t disappear without someone
noticing Elvis has completely left the building.

I’ll explain as best I can on Monday. I’ve got all day
Sunday to figure out a way to explain all of this in a way that’ll make sense
to him without giving away my family’s secret. I’d love more than anything to
be honest with him about it all, but most people wouldn’t understand. They’re weirded
out by this. They don’t understand it.

Dane looking at me like I’m some circus freak is the worst
thing that could happen.

No.

Scratch that.

Dane
firing
me is
the worst thing that could happen.

DANE

She’s so fucking fired.

I reach for the pewter desk clock and push it aside. She’s
not late. Yet. And any minute now, she’s going to burst through my doors and
tell me how sorry she is, and I’m not going to give a flying fuck.

My gaze flicks to the ceiling, and I push out a full sigh as
the tick of the clock fills the room.

It was bad enough I spent Saturday morning burying my
beloved uncle, the man who raised me when everyone else had dropped me off on
the side of the road and left me for dead.
But for Bellamy to
discard me so easily?

Obnoxious.

Uncouth.

Boorish.

She’s clearly not taking her job seriously. I was wrong
about her, and that never happens. I suppose I saw something in her that day. A
mix of beauty and innocence in the way she carried herself, and
a fierceness
in her attitude that seemed to overcompensate
for the rampant sweetness that made up every other part of her.

But I digress.

There’s only one reason a submissive would place me on the
backburner.

My doors swing wide and an exasperated Bellamy donning a
push-up bra and red-slicked lips saunters in like a woman on a mission. She
closes the doors behind her and pushes the lock before rushing toward me and
falling to her knees.

A delirious smile claims her ruby mouth and her hands reach
for my belt buckle.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I push myself out
of her reach.

“Making it up to you, Master,” she says without pause. Her
hands linger in the air, mid-grip, and the shine in her eyes is intense.

“No.”

Bellamy’s brows raise, a silent question mark, and I rise up
and step away, straightening my belt. She has another thing coming if she
thinks I can be bought off with some mind-altering mouth fucking on a Monday
morning. I’m not that easy.

“Get up…no,” I seethe. “Stay there. On your knees.”

Her palms rest flat on her thighs, and her spine curls to
match her slumped shoulders.

“You’ll stare at the ground while I talk to you, and listen
closely because I’m only going to say this one time.”

“Wait.”

She’s got a lot of fucking nerve this morning.

“Are you asking for permission to speak?” I refuse to call her
“Angel” today. She doesn’t deserve the honor, and there’s nothing angelic about
a filthy
con-artist
.

 
“I just want to
explain.” She glances up at me, and for a millisecond, I consider it. “Please?
Can I explain?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her jaw unhinges. “But you don’t understand–”

“You’re fired, Bellamy. Take your personal belongings and
leave the building. You have thirty minutes, and I strongly advise you not to make
a scene.”

I flatten my black tie and head to the window, turning my
back to her in the figurative and literal sense.

“You’re firing me because I couldn’t make it to a date with
you.” Her voice breaks. “A date you sprung on me at the last minute, after I’d
only been your employee for a handful of days. Do you realize how insane your
expectations are? Cut me some slack. I mean
,
I blew
you not once, but twice. I pranced around here in some bustier with my breasts
hanging out, and I let you finger me in some fancy restaurant. I wear what you
tell me to wear. I do what you tell me to do, and now I’m fired because I had
absolutely no way of getting to you Saturday night? Do you even know how badly
I wanted to be there?”

I turn to face her though I won’t look at her yet. She
standing tall now, and the strain that accompanies her words tells me she’s
seconds from a melt down.

“No, of course you don’t know,” she continues. “Because you
don’t let me talk. You don’t let me say anything unless you give me permission.
I guess because I’m a woman, my opinions don’t mean anything to you. I’m just
some holes to fill and another way for you to feel like you’re the king of the
world because apparently it’s not enough to run a multi-million dollar company
and look the way you do and have the world at your fingertips.”

Correction.
Multi-billion dollar company...

“Your opinions are important, Bellamy.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

“I was afraid this was going to happen.” I turn to face the
window again, resting my hands against the ledge and hanging my head. If it weren’t
so fucking early in the morning, I’d pour myself three fingers of
Macallan
and pass out on the sofa the rest of the day. It’s
been a long week, an even longer weekend, and a doubly as long Monday morning
already.

“What?”

“I made my expectations to you perfectly clear. Did I not?”

“I guess.”

“I told you, you’re my release. This is purely a
professional relationship. No feelings. No complications.” My gaze narrows at
the gray cityscape on this rainy April morning.
Droplets bead
against the window and condensation fog up the glass.
“I spent the
better part of last week training you, breaking you in. You were doing so well,
too.”

“You’re overreacting, Dane.”

“Oh, but I’m not.”

If she only knew where I was coming from…

But she’ll never know. My past is sealed. Locked in a vault
and drowned in the bottom of the Pacific where it belongs.

“I wanted to be with you Saturday night.” Her voice is
closer now. I shudder when her palm presses against my shoulder. How dare she
touch me without
asking.
“I had my dress ready to go.
I knew how I was going to do my hair.”

Her fingertips drag down my back before abandoning me. I
turn to face her; only I find she’s invading my space like she’s my equal.

“I don’t know why either,” she says, her delicate fingers twisting
the gold chain of the Cartier necklace around her neck. “I don’t like to be
tied up. It’s not particularly enjoyable to have my mouth pounded until I’m
gagging. And I certainly don’t appreciate having to wear some kind of collar
around my neck like I’m your pet.”

That’s because it’s what
you are.

“But I find myself thinking about you all the time. And to
be honest, I don’t know why.” She yanks the chain from her neck in one fluid
movement, and it crumbles into her hand. “You’re arrogant. You’re rude and
demanding. You’re ridiculously pretentious, lacking an ounce of humility, and
yet I still find myself desperately seeking your constant approval.”

She hands me the tangled chain, her soft skin brushing mine
for the last time.

“And besides all that, I can’t stop thinking about the way
your cock would feel inside me. Mission accomplished, Dane. You got exactly
what you wanted.”

I try not to chuckle when she says that word.
Cock
. She enunciates every letter like
it’s a brand new word in her pristine vocabulary.
A foreign
word.

“That’s how it works. Congratulations.” I smirk. “You
figured it out in a fraction of the time it takes the others.”

“I don’t even know why I like you.” A palm flies toward my
face before clenching into a tight fist. “And when I say that I like you, I
don’t mean it
romantically
. I know
you’re terrified of that word. I mean, like I think underneath this outrageous
façade of yours, I’m pretty sure there’s a halfway decent human being in there.
I’ve caught glimpses of him here and there, but I’ve yet to meet him because
I’m pretty sure you dominate him too. He’s probably terrified to make an
appearance because of you.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” I stifle a laugh as
her narrowed gaze attempts to pin me to the window. “You’re implying there are
two sides to me, and that I bully my nice side into hiding. Listen to yourself,
Bellamy, but I’m done. I’ve heard all I need to hear. I’ve allowed you to say
your peace, and now you need to go.”

With her chest jutting out and her chin held high, she says,
“Fine. I’ll go.”

That’s all?

For reasons inexplicable, I’m almost disappointed that she’s
lowering her dukes and ending her fight. I quite liked her feisty side because
while she was spewing her craziness, I was having my way with her in my head.
Pinning her to the wall, ripping her dress off, pushing my fingers as deep
inside of her as they would go, and fucking her until she’s a crumpled heap on
the floor begging for one more round.

It was an entertaining way to bide the time.

“Before you go,” I say, stopping her in her tracks. “Just
tell me
why
.”

Jenessa’s reason at least made sense though it didn’t make
it excusable.

“Why what?”

“Why you would sub for me when you belong to another man?”

Her jaw falls, but she picks it up quickly. “I don’t belong
to anyone.”

Bellamy’s words are shortened with emphasis on each
syllable.

“You’re lying.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “I don’t belong to anyone
but you
.”

“Yes, Bellamy. I heard you the first time.”

A thin mist clouds her clear eyes. “You think I ditched you
on Saturday to be with another man?”

“In my experience, Bellamy, and I have a world of it,” I
say, “the only reason a submissive would ever disobey her Dom is if she had
another.”

Her head shakes with
a fervor
,
ruffling her blonde strands until they’re splayed across her pale shoulders.
Words reside behind her
pinched
lips, but I’m not
finished speaking to her yet.

“But in your case, you’re extremely green, so I have no
reason to think you have another Dom, but I’ve every reason to believe you have
another man.” I check my watch and hum faintly. “If I had to guess, and I’m
just throwing out a guess here, I’d say it was that fellow who drove you to
work the other morning.”

“It’s not like that.” Her hand rubs against her chest like
she’s physically pained by this accusation. “If you took two seconds to try and
get to know me, you’d know about my situation at home.”

“I’m well aware of your situation at home.” I can’t resist.
Opportunity knocked, and I had to answer.

“What do you mean?”

“Your family,” I say. “You’re AUB.”

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a fine line as her
brows scrunch. “How’d you know?”

I refuse to explain that we live in the digital age, where
anything about anyone can be discovered after a few clicks and the exchanging
of money between hands.

“Obviously it’s not an issue,” I state. “Despite the fact
that I am vehemently against the idea of polygamous relationships, and I won’t
even get into the religious aspect of it, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Oh?”

“I respect that it’s not something that would’ve come up in
conversation,” I say. “I’m not holding that against you, for the record.”

I give myself a silent pat-on-the-back for saving my lawyer some
trouble with that one. Wrongful termination suits based on religious beliefs
can be a goldmine for the accusing party.

“For the record, I don’t believe in polygamy either,” she
says, her eyes darting into mine. We hold our gazes for a second beyond what
feels natural to me. “I’m trying to get away, not that you care. Not that it
matters to you.”

“How do you know what does and does not matter to me?”

“Okay, fine.
Not that
I matter to you
. There. Fixed it.” Her arms cross and her fingers dig into
the flesh of her arms until her knuckles whiten.

“Are you being held prisoner right now? Against your will?”

“It’s complicated, Dane. And if you’re just asking because
you’re curious and not because you’re interested in helping get me out of this
situation, then please don’t make me waste my breath.”

“What if I said I was interested in helping you?”

“Then I’d tell you to start by un-firing me.”

“Not so fast.”

Bellamy tucks her hair behind her ear like she’s about to
cling to what I have to say next.

“I’ll need some time to think about this,” I say,
straightening my jacket. “Naturally.”

What good would it do to teach her she could throw a
tantrum, call me names, give me some sob story and get what she wants? I’d be
doing both of us zero favors by allowing that.

“How much time?” Her pretty eyes widen.

“As much time as I need, Bellamy.” I fold my arms and narrow
my gaze in her direction.

“How long would that be?”

“I don’t know? Weeks? Months?”

Her fingers snake up to her neck, gripping just under her
jaw as she blinks away tears. “You don’t understand.”

Bellamy falls to her knees once again, like a woman who’s
exercised all options and has nothing more to lose. There’s nothing sexy about
this stance, and her shoulders rise and fall as her head smashes against the
palms of her hands.