Hanging On (22 page)

He hadn’t.

“I’m producing, which is a fancy term for dealing with the director, editors, and anyone else who tries to stick their hand on this thing. Luckily, Drew writes his own material. Give that man a camera, and he’s good to go.” Another sigh. “The bottom line is that we’re busy. I’m tired. Drew’s tired. We’re both working so much, and none of the books are getting done.

I’ll pay you anything to straighten this out.” Sophia’s thinking must have been too quiet for Ginny. Her laugh on the other end was nervous.

“I talked to Ellen last night. When she mentioned you were an accountant, I think I heard angels singing.” Something clicked. “I thought Lara was in accounting.”

“Corporate accounting. It fits with what we need done, but she refuses to work for me. The last time she tried it, we fought and fought. So now she’s wicked serious about keeping our work lives separate from our personal lives. This would necessarily cross those boundaries.”

“Does Drew know you’re offering me a temporary job?”
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“No, but I can’t see that he’d have a problem with it.” After last night, she honestly didn’t know where they stood.

“Oh, and the third thing,” she said. “Before I forget. Drew showed up at the set four hours late, which is saying a lot because it’s in his kitchen, and it’s been downhill from there. Anything that could go wrong has gone wrong. He said to tell you he won’t be able to make it over tonight.” That took care of where they stood. He couldn’t even call himself. Air whooshed out of her lungs. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, and she’d been punched in the stomach before, so she knew precisely how it felt. Ginny babbled on as Sophia struggled not to lose control. The last thing she needed to do was burst into hysterical tears. She’d lost enough face the previous night in front of Drew. She didn’t need Ginny witnessing just how unhinged she could become.

“We’re likely filming tomorrow, too. Oh, please say you’ll at least look at the books. I can meet you at the bakery whenever you have a free day.”

“I’m free tomorrow,” she said. If Drew was going to be filming tomorrow, and then in Los Angeles for the rest of the week, this would be the perfect time to get started. Ginny was likely exaggerating the extent of their problem. “I can meet you at the bakery at nine.”

“Can you make it seven? I have to be on set at nine, but I’ll be at the bakery bright and early. Thank you so much for this, Sophia. If I was single, I’d give you sexual favors for this, show you all the ways women are better lovers than men.”

Well versed in having sex with both genders, Sophia laughed. Quality wasn’t so much about the gender as the person. “Money is fine.” They talked for a few minutes longer, discussing the terms of the agreement.

Sophia would bring a contract with her in the morning, and Drew would be safely in the studio instead of at the bakery.

Sophia’s feelings were mixed after Ginny’s call. She was happy to actually have a client, even if it was just a temporary job. More pressing was the fist crushing her heart. He hadn’t even bothered to call himself to cancel.

Likely, he didn’t want a repeat of last night. She didn’t blame him.

At least Christopher would be over in an hour. They could both escape from the grief caused by their failed relationships with vanilla partners.

Chris was prompt, but then, he knew better than to be late. They took care of the business first.

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“Do you have a proposal for me, Ms. DiMarco?” The respectful tone lost a little luster to the twinkle in his eye.

She handed over the package she put together. He stuffed it into his bag without so much as lifting the front cover. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Chris, is this an honest bid request, or did you just want to get into my torture chamber?”

“Both,” he laughed. “I’ll be honest, though, you’re not the only one, and some of the others that have come in look pretty good. The committee meets Friday. I’ll have a decision for you by Monday.” She nodded, understanding the bureaucracy of the corporate system.

“Head downstairs.”

He looked toward the door, then back at her. “Is your boyfriend already here, or are we starting without him?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Saying that statement stung, and the fist squeezed even tighter. “It’s just us tonight.” Christopher headed for the stairs, any questions he might have asked squelched by her tight expression. This was a drill he knew well. She disappeared into her room to change into something with a little more give than her smart power suit.

He was in position when she arrived, naked, kneeling with his knees spread wide apart, and his hands positioned behind his neck. Chris had a magnificent body. He was lean and whippet thin, all muscle. She loved the way he rippled and bunched under the sting of her lashes.

She walked around behind him to choose a whip, trying with all her might to ignore the longing for someone with bigger muscles and broader shoulders that made his hips seem even narrower than they were. She bit her lip and shoved Drew, and the feel of his arms around her, far away.

Christopher was hard from the moment she trailed the falls of the cat across his shoulders. In a moment of sheer perversity, she made him move to the foot of the bed. She secured him to the posts with Velcro handcuffs in the exact same position she had put Drew in. She had failed with him. She would not fail with Christopher.

She started with easy blows, tempering them to short licks of the lash.

She didn’t see Christopher’s dark skin in front of her. She saw Drew’s sun-kissed, paler skin, the tiny freckles dotting his shoulder blades. The pressure
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of her whip increased. Red streaks marred his backside. The lash curled around his thighs, raising welts on the sensitive flesh between his legs.

In front of her, Christopher moaned in ecstasy. Tears streamed down her face. Her cat fell to the floor. She yanked the Velcro loose, hysterical hiccups escaping as she fought for breath.

“Sophia?” He caught her as she fell and carried her to the bed. He sat her upright and put her head between her knees. “Breathe, Sophia. Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry.” She gulped for air and tried to raise her head.

He pushed her back down. “Just stay like this until you’re done hyperventilating.”

Long moments passed. He rubbed her back, and she thought about how this was the first time she had a panic attack about something other than the memory of the rape. Was this progress, or was she getting worse?

By the time she pulled herself together, Christopher was dressed. He sat next to her and draped his arm across her shoulders. “You know, this only worked for me because I was pretending you were Janelle. I don’t think I could have gone through with this, Sophia. I think we’re both in impossible situations.”

She nodded weakly, the numbness setting in to anesthetize the pain.

“Ain’t we a pair, raggedy man?”

He laughed. “I’d ask if you want some dinner, but I don’t think either of us has much of an appetite.”

She shook her head. “I’d invite you to stay and get drunk with me, but I might be pregnant, so that’s not an option for me.”

“If you don’t want to be alone, I can stay,” he said. “We could watch TV and hate everyone who looks happy.”

“That sounds nice,” she said.

He surfed through the channels, and she cried during a commercial for
Sensual Secrets
.

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Before he left, she threw an idea to Christopher. She couldn’t teach Drew to be a submissive if he didn’t want to be one. However, Christopher hadn’t even brought up the subject with Janelle.

“Why don’t you ask her if she is interested in dominating you, Chris?

You could bring her by, and I could give her some pointers.”

“My old lover teaching my new lover what I like in the bedroom.” His brows rose at the dramatic irony. “I don’t see anything wrong with that situation.”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell her we were lovers. Tell her I’m a dominatrix friend who is willing to teach her how to hurt you without damaging you.”

“You wouldn’t…give that away? She wouldn’t understand about how we’re just friends who sleep together.” He sounded hopeful. She wanted to give him a happy ending.

“My lips are sealed. Bring her by the club. I’m working Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. She could watch me work you over.” He wouldn’t commit to the idea, but she could tell he liked it. “I’ll think about it.”

Sophia actually slept well that night and arrived at Ginny’s bakery promptly at eight. Due to the popularity of their show, the bakery wasn’t open to the general public. An appointment was needed to come inside. She parked in the city garage, careful to keep her receipt for tax purposes, and trudged the three blocks to Sensual Secrets
.

“Can I help you?” The woman who answered the door was on the far side of fifty. She had the kind of body that hinted at a reluctance to say no to carbs. Lines creased her eyes and the areas around her mouth, marking her as someone who laughed often. In short, she reminded Sophia of her mother.

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“I’m Sophia DiMarco. Ginny is expecting me.” She smiled regretfully. Her colorful shirt hung nearly to her knees, covering dusty polyester-blend pants. “Ms. Breszewski doesn’t have appointments scheduled today.” She handed Sophia a card. “You can call for an appointment.”

Sophia held a hand up. “Give me a minute.” She speed-dialed Ginny, grateful Sabrina had programmed the numbers into their phones.

In less than thirty seconds, Ginny threw the door completely open.

“Sophia, thank God you’re here. Ellen told me to tell you to be here at seven if I wanted you here by eight. Do you know how to do payroll, too?”
Whoops.
And here, she thought she was on time for once. With a smile, Sophia assured Ginny that she knew how to do it all. Ginny gave Sophia a tour of the bakery. It wasn’t what she expected. The door opened directly into the kitchen. There was no storefront or customer area. At one end, nestled under a bank of windows that were covered on the bottom half to protect them from prying eyes, was a long table. Several chairs were set up around it. Every seat was occupied except one.

Ginny pointed out people and said their names by way of introduction.

In full accountant mode, Sophia would rather they were assigned numbers.

If Ginny wanted her to do payroll, that was how she was going to get to know them anyway.

She flashed a pleasant smile as Ginny introduced her.

“This is Sophia DiMarco, Financial Goddess. She’s going to wade through that mess upstairs and get it all in order.”

“It needs to be computerized.” This helpful suggestion came from a heavily tattooed man with a boyish smile and a rail-thin build. Sophia was 80 percent sure Ginny said he was their baker. Or maybe she called him a sculptor. She didn’t know bakeries needed sculptors.

A true smile cracked the corner of her lip. “You don’t have your records on computer?”

“There is a laptop up there with some stuff on it. Lara set it up for us a couple of years ago, but like I said, she won’t go near the finances for this place.”

That didn’t give Sophia hope this would be an easy job, but she liked the idea of a challenge. They made cakes. How bad could it be?

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The rest of the room had an open design. She spied various workstations, and Ginny explained what some of them were for. Fondant was rolled in one area. Icing was done in another place. Airbrushing was done in yet another area.

Mouthwatering aromas poured through a doorway to the rear of the building. Ginny laughed at the way Sophia’s head swiveled to catch the scent. “That’s the bakery kitchen. Drew has his thing going on in the other half of the building.”

The thing that amazed her most was the lack of cakes. In her experience, most places that made wedding cakes had them shellacked and displayed all over the place. Ginny had a few pictures on the wall. The artistry and design were amazing. Sophia could certainly see where she earned the various titles she had picked up around the world. But where were the cakes?

“Drew isn’t here,” she said, doing her best to whisper it in Sophia’s ear.

Sophia was about six inches taller, so she had to bend down to hear Ginny’s words.

“Actually, I was looking for the cakes. I smell them, but I don’t see them.”

She laughed. “We have a book full of pictures for clients to see. We make all of our cakes fresh, so you won’t see a finished cake until the day it’s due. Most of our deliveries are for the weekend. You’ll see more and more as the week progresses.”

Ginny led Sophia through a door to a set of stairs. A closed door was the only other thing in the hall. A sign on it warned anyone going through it to make sure it was tightly closed.

“That’s where the culinary stuff is done. I don’t understand how someone can spend so many years doing pastries, and then suddenly decide he likes to cook more than he likes to paint fondant.” Sophia had experienced his painting abilities. Plus, he had a display case in his basement full of trophies and medals and awards for his baked goods.

“He’s an incredible artist. I’m better at the overall design, but he’s great at the detail work. We’re a great team, and we’re not too proud to admit when we need help.” She smiled up at Sophia with her head cocked to the side. Sophia wondered if Ginny was aware she was flirting. “You guys really do just have sex, don’t you?”

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If that had been the case, Sophia wouldn’t be praying Drew wasn’t on the other side of that door. “We’ve talked, just not about work.” With a dramatic roll of the eyes, she climbed the stairs. “It’s a mess. I’m warning you now, Sophia. If you’re going to ask for more money, now is the time to do it.”

They had settled on a fair rate. Since Sophia didn’t know what she was getting into, and neither did Ginny, she was charging by the hour instead of for the job.

Ginny paused two steps ahead of Sophia. It added enough inches to her height that she could look down on the taller woman. She shook her head.

“Drew’s right. You don’t laugh enough.” Sophia didn’t know if the sympathy or the fact that Drew criticized her to his friend hurt more. “I laugh when there’s reason to laugh.” Maybe it was a bitchy thing to say, but she wasn’t full of warm, mushy feelings right then.

Chastened, Ginny continued.

The second floor was a wide open space. Boxes and equipment were neatly lined on shelves or stacked on the floor. A broken mixer, industrial-sized, was disassembled on a table near the back of the building.

“Ethan thinks he can fix it,” Ginny supplied.

“Ethan?” She probably should know who that was.

“Skinny guy with all the tattoos? I keep telling him that ink and muscle are two different things, and that having an abundance of one doesn’t make up for lacking the other.”

Sophia winced. Ethan was young, probably a few years younger than her. Some men took a little longer to add bulk to their bodies. Ginny’s jab was a low blow. “Don’t you have a few tattoos yourself?” She smiled, a catlike curl of the lip that was dangerously attractive. If Sophia wasn’t numb from the inside out, she might have been moved. The differences in these two sisters amazed her. Sabrina and Ginny could have been identical twins if Ginny wasn’t three years younger. Both could be insensitive and catty. However, Sabrina tended to stumble on it by accident.

When she realized the implication of what she said or did, she was mortified and genuinely sorry. She worked hard to be tactful.

Ginny, on the other hand, was as ballsy as they came. She was vivacious, lively, and caustic. If she felt she needed to say something, she

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said it, voicing her opinion without concern for the consequences. Only when Lara was around did Ginny’s bitchy exterior sweeten, and it did so considerably.

Sophia would love to get her little wiggling ass under her whip. Sabrina came to her because she liked pain. It was a secret few knew about her. It calmed her, purified her soul. Like Christopher, she probably liked to mix pain with sex. It made Jonas a good match for her. He knew the boundaries.

He could hurt her just enough to take her to that place of mindless pleasure.

Ginny wasn’t a natural submissive. It made Sophia want to dominate her all the more. Sex didn’t have to be involved. Given her relationship with Lara, that wasn’t even on the table. But the vision of her naked body writhing and bouncing under the tongues of a whip called to Sophia’s dark need.

Then, she remembered the disaster with Christopher last night.

Dominating him had reduced her to tears. It wasn’t Chris she wanted. It wasn’t Ginny. It was Drew, only Drew. She didn’t want to whip him. She just wanted him. She closed her eyes against the flood of pain and longing the thought of him released.

Oblivious to Sophia’s internal storm, Ginny indicated a single door.

“This is the office.” Producing a key from the pocket beneath her apron, she shoved it in the keyhole and twisted sharply. “I hate this room.” Immediately, Sophia saw why. It was a disaster area. Piles of papers were strewn over the desk, spilling to a nearby table. A few steps in the room revealed additional stacks behind the desk.

Ginny pointed to a laptop. “Lara set something up on that. I know we should have kept it up, but I make cakes, Sophia. I love to bake, and I love to decorate. I’m good at it.”

Sophia was still processing the mess of invoices, receipts, and miscellaneous paperwork. “What’s Drew’s excuse?” She must have heard the underlying censure, the anger lying just below the surface. There was an edge to her answer. “When he’s not busy being a damn fine chef, he’s filming the show or helping me with the cakes. He might concentrate on cooking now, but he’s one of the best decorators I’ve ever worked with. He has a great mind, an incredible eye, and skillful hands.”

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Don’t I know it.
“So, you want me to sort through this, enter your data in Lara’s program, and straighten out your billing?” Teeth came out to tug at her generous lower lip. “Ellen said you do it all, Sophia. I need you to check our tax returns for the past three years.” She snapped her fingers and flared her big brown eyes. “An audit. Lara said you need to do an audit. And then fix all the stuff that’s wrong.” Sophia’s mouth opened and closed. “Ginny, what you’re asking will take at least a month, and that’s if I can find all of your records and organize them today.”

She nodded absently. “Take as long as you need.” She scratched at the spot on her cheek where a wisp of hair tickled. “I know you have other clients, but we’re in a bad way here.”

With a feigned casualness, she drifted to the desk, opened a drawer, and drew out a stack of unopened mail. Words like “overdue” and “final notice” were stamped on them. Her confidence vanished.

“I have no idea how this happened. I thought we were paying our bills. I don’t want to be one of those tragic success stories, the kind where everything is going right and we blow it because neither Drew nor I paid much attention to our suppliers.” Again, she worried her bottom lip. “Lara doesn’t let me near the finances at home.”

“Yet Drew trusts you with them here?”

She shrugged. “He thinks I’m competent. I have this huge trust fund, so I must know how to manage money, right? The truth is that my grandfather set it all up with someone to oversee the money. He looks after my mom’s money and Sabrina’s, too. They all assure me things are fine, but I have no idea.”

Sophia felt a surge of sympathy. She knew what it was like to feel out of her depth with something. Finances and dominating were the only places in her life where she didn’t feel like she was drowning. She had control in both places.

“Sophia, you’re not a neutral party. Drew trusts you. Everyone I know has a high opinion of you, and nobody doubts your integrity. I want you to do this because I know you’ll do right by us.” With a nod, Sophia set her own laptop case down next to the desk. She wouldn’t need it for some time. “Is everything out in the open? Is anything in here off-limits to me?”

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She shook her head. “You’ll need stuff in the files and in the drawers.

Honestly, I don’t know what is where, but it’s all in here.”

“I’ll try to have a timeline for you by the end of the day.” With a devilish grin, she shook her head. “There’s no rush. Lara told me this should take you at least six months.” Sophia could see where Lara wouldn’t want to tackle this problem in her spare time. “It might,” she admitted.

“She also told me I should keep you on afterward, at least three days a week.”

Her smile was weak. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Ginny left her alone, and she got to work. There was no rhyme or reason to anything in the room. Customer orders were mixed with supplier orders.