Bound and Pleasured (The Masters)

Book two of The Masters series

Darla Rogers sat across from her new client, the thirty-six-year-old, megamillionaire, Marcus Alexander, at the conference table of the legal firm Ward, Regal and Williams, PC. A dirty bit of real estate fraud had slipped past his prior counsel and delivered her an exciting opportunity to work with one of Houston’s largest employers, Alexander Enterprises.

Marcus Alexander was also rumored to head a secret sex society, and it wasn’t hard to believe it was true. The man literally oozed sex.
Like Jacob had,
she thought of the ex who’d left on a top secret Special Forces mission three years before and had never returned—at least, not to her. They’d broken up after a night where a year of vanilla sex had become something far different, far darker, that left her shaken.

Unbidden images came to her, of herself naked, tied between two posts in the center of his loft, begging him for mercy in the form of an orgasm, the images in such vivid erotic clarity that she shifted in her seat and recrossed her legs.

She blinked and realized that Marcus was staring at her, and she righted a slim lock of auburn hair that had escaped the conservative twist at her neck and fallen into her eyes. She didn’t usually get distracted in the midst of business, but despite Marcus’s dark good looks contrasting with Jacob’s blond Adonis good looks, Marcus reminded her of her ex to the point of utter distraction.

“I think that wraps up my questions, and it only took, oh—” she peeked at her dainty silver watch “—two hours on a Monday morning. A productive way to start the week.”

They’d managed to discuss a variety of potential investments he was making and review his healthy real estate portfolio. “We won’t let you down, Mr. Alexander. You have my word. Ward, Regal and Williams is one of the top corporate law firms in the state of Texas and with good reason.”

He pushed to his feet, and Darla followed, quickly moving around the table to stand in front of him. He was a handsome man, tall and dark, his gray striped suit exquisitely fitted to his impressive masculine physique. “I have no doubt of your competence. You came highly recommended.
You,
Ms. Rogers, not the firm.”

“Thank you,” she said as pride swelled inside her. She’d redirected her career path some years before and not without struggle. “That means a lot to me.”

“I’m surprised you left your father’s firm.”

“You and my father both,” she said with a humorless laugh, not at all surprised that Marcus knew her history. A man like this would investigate those he wished to do business with, even more so after being burned by past counsel. “To say that he was displeased at my choice is an understatement. And though I doubt you would agree right about now, criminal law can be a far dirtier business than the scam of a real estate deal gone bad. I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life looking at myself in the mirror and knowing I got someone off on murder who might kill again.”

Or spend her life under her father’s controlling hand, but she didn’t say that. She loved her father; she just couldn’t work for him. How her mother did it, she would never know.

Dark eyes studied her a moment, and she had the sense he was sizing her up before seeming to draw a conclusion. “There’s a wine tasting at Alexander’s Wine Cellar Friday night,” he said, surprising her by redirecting the conversation. “Several of my business associates will be attending. I believe you will find it might—” a momentary pause, as if he were choosing his words carefully, before he added “—stimulate new ventures for you. I’d like you to attend.”

Phrased as a question, but it wasn’t a question. She heard the low command in his tone. He was her client. She would do as he wished. “Friday night,” she agreed. “Of course.”

He inclined his dark head. “I’ll have an invitation delivered to your office with the details.”

Darla walked him to the elevator, and just before he stepped inside, she remembered a question. “Oh, yes. I meant to ask who I should thank for referring you?”

He stepped inside the car and turned to face her. A hint of a smile played on his dangerously sensual mouth, warning her that before he said the name, he knew the impact it would have. “Jacob Remington,” he replied, a second before the doors closed, which she had no doubt was planned.

Darla stood there, her black high heels wobbling dangerously to the left and then again to the right. The last she’d heard, through a mutual friend, was that Jacob had been on an extended mission somewhere in a third-world country. But Jacob knew Marcus. On some level she suspected her erotically charged thoughts during their meeting had been telling her that, already connecting the two men. Maybe Jacob had mentioned Marcus to her at some point in the year they’d been together, maybe it was just the raw sensuality that dominated the air around them—a powerful essence the two men shared and few others possessed.

Her heart exploded in her chest, thinking of the rumors of a secret sex society, wondering if Jacob was a member. Jacob, whom she’d loved, probably still did. Jacob who’d pushed her to the erotic edge, to trust him completely, and she’d responded by pushing him away. How many times had she wished she could turn back time, to see Jacob again, to
feel
him again. Yet she’d waited too long to contact him, convinced herself she couldn’t, she shouldn’t. And now, he’d thrown her a twig through Marcus, whether it was meant as an invitation into his life or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t even care. Jacob was back, and so was her opportunity to revisit the past and make it right.

Darla inhaled a fortifying breath. She was going to that wine tasting Friday night, and she was going to do whatever it took to convince Marcus she belonged in his world so she could show Jacob she belonged
in his world.
And if Jacob didn’t want her there, at least she was done running from the past and from herself. It was time to face her darkest desires.

It was Friday night, the evening of the wine tasting. Still dressed in her dark blue business suit, Darla pulled her Ford Fusion into the parking garage of the Houston high-rise only a few blocks from her office and sat in the darkness of her car. Adrenaline pumped through her, a combination of nerves and excitement.

After a week of thinking, of analyzing, of fretting, she was more certain than ever that she had to do this. She had to talk to Marcus about his society, had to explore her own sexuality, her own wants and needs, and see where it would lead her. Maybe it would be back to Jacob—she hoped it would be back to Jacob. No matter what the outcome, she was tired of denying herself her desires, as if they were something to be ashamed of.

There was a reason why every date since Jacob had been a disaster, a reason why the few sexual encounters had been dissatisfying. Jacob had awakened something in her, a burn for something more, something exciting and erotic. Inhibitions and fear had kept her from exploring them with him, the man she’d loved. The man she was pretty darn sure she still loved.

Resolve settled within her, and Darla shoved open her car’s door, more of those nerves zipping through her and settling with a thud in her stomach. She was going to do this. She was really going to do this. Her steps became lighter, the hot Texas night even hotter. It was liberating to know she was acting, rather than hiding behind her conservative attorney shell, behind the expectations of society, by entering a whole different kind of society.

The elevator of the high-rise took her down to the Alexander’s Wine Cellar, which was appropriately located in the basement of the building. But this was like no basement Darla had ever seen. The instant she exited the elevator, she was surrounded by the luxury of heavy Oriental rugs, rich wood and leather furnishings. Low-hanging teardrop bulbs of light created a dim, seductive glow in the room.

A man played a grand piano from the top of a pedestal in the far right corner, and a hostess greeted Darla the instant she was out of the elevator, confirming her name against an entrance list. Darla headed toward the glossy wood bar with oversize bar stools, where she was told she could view the night’s wine selections. Waiters wandered through the crowd, offering a variety of wines, as well. Darla quickly stopped the nearest one and accepted one, welcoming the numbing effect she knew the red liquid would offer her newly jittery nerves.

“I see you made it.”

She turned at the deep masculine tone of Marcus’s voice, offering a smile to her handsome host, a fizzle of awareness stirring in her stomach.
She was really going to do this.
“Did you doubt I would?”

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute,” he said, a noticeable inference that someone else had, and she wondered if that someone was Jacob.

“You mentioned Jacob referred you to me,” she said, fishing for information about how close the two men were and what Marcus might know of their past. Plenty, she was willing to bet. “Is he here tonight?”

He studied her a moment too long. “He has an open invitation to any of my functions,” he said, alluding to much by saying little. Jacob was a part of his world, his Society, she knew it in her core. And he was here; he just hadn’t decided if he wanted to see her or not.

Part of her wanted desperately to see Jacob, here, now, tonight. Another part of her, an unexpected part of her, did not. It was an illogical reaction. She’d known Jacob might be here. Nevertheless, the idea that she might see him before she felt ready spawned a burning desire to grab Marcus, to pull him to another room, to beg him to take her, to teach her, to hide her from Jacob. Confusion spiraled inside her, uncertainty over what made her want, even need, such a thing.

“How exactly do you know Jacob?” she asked, trying to hide her panic behind conversation.

“We met in college at the University of Texas in Austin and never lost touch,” he said. “Now that he’s a civilian and doing private security, naturally, Alexander Enterprises retained his services.”

Darla reeled inside and dropped her gaze to her wineglass, absorbing the implications of what she’d just learned. Not only was Jacob in Houston again, but it seemed he wasn’t here for a night or two, even a week or two, but long-term. And yet not once had he contacted her, at least, not directly. No matter how deserving his silence might be, that piece of knowledge hurt.

“Let me ask you something, Darla.”

Her gaze lifted and locked with his dark, intensely probing stare. “Ask away.” Her voice wasn’t her own. It was breathless, affected. The look in his eyes said he knew he made her nervous and liked it. Why in the world did that send a rush of heat over her skin? What was wrong with her?

“Did you research me as I did you before accepting our meeting?”

She wet her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze followed the action before lifting to meet her eyes once more. He had a way of making the small act blatantly sensual. As if sex were simply a part of his every action, his every thought. But there was more there, too—a dark sensuality in his stare that said he wanted her, that told her he would introduce her to his world, if she convinced him she wanted it bad enough. The unbidden ache between her thighs said he’d make it enjoyable. Guilt sizzled within her. She didn’t want this man. She
wanted
Jacob.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice remarkably calm considering the spike of heat rushing through her and not because of her admission—she saw no reason to deny what any good attorney would do. Because of another flash of memory, of herself tied to those posts, of Jacob naked, erect, in command of her body. She swallowed hard. “I researched your history.”

“So then you’re aware there are rumors about the Society?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I was—I am aware of the rumors.”

“Do you believe them?”

“Yes. I believe them.”

He arched a brow at her sudden bluntness. “And yet you attended one of my private events?”

“You ordered me here,” she said, not backing down now, using the little bits she’d learned from Jacob now to make sure that message was relayed through Marcus. She’d come too far, promised herself to make tonight count. “I thought compliance was expected.”

His lips lifted in a slow smile of understanding. “Indeed,” he agreed, intrigue shimmering in his eyes. “Jacob didn’t tell me you understood our ‘play’ so well.”

Her heart thundered in her chest. “I don’t,” she said, the moment of truth here. “But I’d like to learn.”

His eyes darkened, smoldering with interest. “I can see what Jacob has always found so intriguing about you, Darla.”

The words radiated through her. He and Jacob had talked about her in present tense, and Jacob still wanted her. But why hadn’t he contacted her directly? Was this some sort of test? Before she could formulate any semblance of a coherent thought, he gave a short incline of his head, making it clear their conversation, for now, was over.

“Now,” he said. “I have a special task I must attend to, so you enjoy the wine, and I will return momentarily.” His voice lowered, taking on a seductive quality that made her heart flutter wildly all over again. “You are among some of my most intimate acquaintances here. I do believe I will count you as one of them in the very near future.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her staring after him, in no doubt of where she stood. If she wanted Marcus to train her, to invite her into the Society, he would, but realization seeped into the fantasy, the escape. Marcus was straight-up sex; he was safe.

Whereas sex with Jacob didn’t scare her; Jacob himself did. Jacob was about emotions and vulnerability. Being with Marcus would give her pleasure, but it wasn’t really the answer to what haunted her. Jacob was. He was here; she felt it clear to her bones, felt it in the awareness prickling along her nerve endings. And already she felt as naked and vulnerable as the day she was born.

Fifteen minutes after Marcus had left her to mingle, Darla was in a conversation with an attractive blonde who said she was a close “friend” of Marcus’s when it happened. That low hum of awareness, of the certainty Jacob was near, turned to a powerful tingle on the back of her neck so forcefully, it was darn near a command to turn and search her surroundings. Discreetly, she glanced around her, trying to remain engaged in the conversation, but knowing on some soul-deep level Jacob was here. He was here, and he was watching her.

Compelled to look up, she saw him standing alone at the center of the balcony a good distance away to the right of the piano player. She sucked in a breath at his masculine beauty, at the way he commanded the room without so much as a word, at how he commanded her, as Marcus could never command her.

God, he was gorgeous—tall and broad, his black pants and a black, button-down shirt accentuating a body she could call nothing, if not a chiseled, muscular work of art. Their eyes locked, the air between them crackling with electricity she felt clear to her toes. Seconds ticked by, a silent message between them, as he backed into the shadows, and she knew he intended her to come to him.

With supreme effort, Darla turned to her female companion and made enough small talk to properly excuse herself. Slipping her slim blue purse strap onto her shoulder, she found the hallway to her right beneath the balcony and took the stairs upward. At the top, she followed a dimly lit hallway to what looked like a cellar door, the
only
door. Darla stopped outside it, and with only a moment of hesitation, knocked. The door opened an inch in invitation.

Biting her bottom lip, she tentatively pushed the wooden surface until she could step inside. Surprise rushed over her at what could easily be called a “pleasure chamber.” Candles—a good fifty or more—flickered around what appeared to be stone walls. In one corner was some sort of pedestal with a gold bar forming an arch over the top of it. Against one wall was what looked like something out of an Egyptian drawing—a type of bed with curling leather arms on each side. The door creaked shut, and the lock slid into place behind her.