Master of Submission [Masters of Submission 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (10 page)

He teased the end of her cute button nose with his finger. “Rise and shine, baby. I’ve brought you some breakfast. Or maybe I should say brunch.”

She yawned and stretched lazily, like a cat in front of a glowing fire. “Why, what time is it?”

“It’s about twelve thirty. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve gotta be somewhere at three.”

“Oh, no, you should have woken me earlier.” Emma began sitting up. He watched with amusement as she pulled the duvet around her to keep him from seeing her naked body. He guessed wiping away a repressed English upbringing was going to take some time. Well, with a woman as beautiful and intelligent as Emma, he was definitely in it for the long haul.

He tugged at the duvet she held tightly over her breasts. “You do realize I’ve seen every part of your body, so hiding it from me is completely unnecessary.”

It was immensely satisfying seeing the pretty pink blush sweep up her neck to stain her cheeks. “I can’t help it, Zane. It feels more indecent with the sun streaming through the windows.”

Zane laughed and handed her the breakfast tray. He would have to cure her of her shyness, even though he found it incredibly sexy in a woman. He made a mental note to work on it next time. That’s if there was a next time. He sure hoped there would be. Maybe that was why he’d made her breakfast in bed. Deep down he figured he was trying to make an impression. “I wasn’t sure what you’re partial to, so I’ve rustled up eggs over easy, and some crispy bacon.”

“You cooked this?” She sounded incredulous. “A man who can cook? Well, well, will wonders never cease?”

He knew by the smile that touched her face, she was teasing him. “Do I detect a certain amount of sarcasm?” He laughed.

“No, I just didn’t imagine you could cook.” She tucked hungrily into the eggs. “It’s excellent, by the way. Thank you.”

Zane smiled. “You’re real welcome.” He pulled the BlackBerry from his breast pocket. “By the way, here’s your cell phone. You left it in the kitchen last night. I heard it ringing about an hour ago, but it stopped before I could get to it. Might be a good idea to check out your messages. There could be one from your friend Chloe. She’s most likely returned from a week of hot sex and is wondering what all the fuss is about.”

“Thanks, I hope you’re right.”

While she continued to eat and flick through her messages, Zane went over to the window. He stared across the open countryside at the back of his property. His land stretched as far as the eye could see. Bright patches of green mingled with mature oak and willow trees. The fall was more or less finished, and the landscape was taking on an eerie, barren beauty. That’s why he’d bought the property in the first place. There was something satisfying about owning a piece of God’s own earth. Perhaps, in a day or two, he’d go horseback riding on his land. He owned more than a hundred acres, so space and privacy were not a problem. Or maybe he’d take one of his classic cars from the garage and give it a run out. His favorite was the ’68 Mustang. A GT390. Exactly the same as the one used by Steve McQueen in the film
Bullitt
. He loved that car. It was worth megabucks now, but he’d never sell it.

Before meeting Emma, his life seemed to be on hold. He didn’t feel particularly happy or unhappy, just listless and bored with the same old scene week after week. Surely there had to be more to life than merely making a living and visiting Club Submission? Maybe if a relationship based on mutual respect could develop between himself and Emma, then perhaps he’d start truly living again. As a young man in his twenties, he’d possessed an intoxicating zest for life. Fast-forward fifteen years and things had changed. A failed marriage, followed by an expensive divorce, had all taken their toll. All that now remained of Zane Anders was a hollow empty shell.

He turned from the window and glanced across at Emma. She held the cell phone close to her ear and seemed to be listening intently. This demure, but surprisingly feisty Englishwoman had made him start to reassess his life. But why her? What was so different about Emma? What made her so special? He wouldn’t rest until he found the answer.

“Zane!” Emma looked horrified and ashen-faced. He watched the cell phone fall from her hand and hit the floor. It bounced on the thick, luxurious carpet before coming to a complete rest.

In two strides he was by her side. “Whatever’s wrong, baby?” She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her hand trembled, fluttering to her throat, as she fought for breath.

She lifted tear filled eyes to his. “It’s the police. They think they’ve found Chloe.”

He gently stroked her hair, acutely aware of her obvious distress. “Hey, but that’s good news isn’t it?”

“No, no it’s not.” She drew her legs up under the duvet and wrapped her arms around her knees. When she began gently rocking herself from side to side, a large teardrop squeezed from the corner of her eye, and slowly meandered down her cheek. “The police say they’ve found a woman closely matching Chloe’s description. They’re almost certain it’s her. Dear, God, she’s dead, Zane. They want me to come down to the morgue and identify her.”

Zane held her tightly in his arms, protecting her from the evils of the world. He knew she was left bereft by the loss of her best friend. He whispered tenderly in her ear, “I know you’re in shock, baby, but why you? Can’t someone else in her family do the identification?”

“She hasn’t any next of kin. Her parents were killed in a car crash when she was fifteen. Chloe never had many friends, I’m the only one the police could track down.” She drew in a deep ragged breath. “Oh, God, someone’s murdered her. Bastards. Who’d do such an awful thing to such a lovely, caring person?” She burst into tears again. They flowed unchecked down her cheeks. “She was so kind and caring, Zane. I’m really going to miss her.”

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Thing’s are gonna work out just fine.” Zane held her closer still, realizing at that moment how much he cared for her. “You don’t know for sure she’s been murdered, Emma. It could have been an accident. Did the cops say where they’d found her?”

“No.” Her lower lip trembled.

“So what makes you think she’s been murdered?”

“They’ve sealed off her apartment. They’re treating it as a crime scene.”

It didn’t take him long to realize that Club Submission would soon be under investigation, too. Everyone, who’d known Chloe, would be a suspect, including himself. The shit was about to hit the proverbial fan—big time. The cops must love the chaos. They finally had a reason to close the club once and for all. They’d been trying for years, but had failed miserably, because everything at Submission was legal and above board. Matthew and Ethan saw to that. However, add a murder to the mix, and the days of Submission were surely numbered. The press would have a field day. There’d soon be a petition signed by thousands of self-righteous pricks that wanted America to return to the 1950s again.

No, Club Submission was formed to allow freedom of expression to like-minded adults. So long as everything experienced there was consensual, why should these uptight zealots give a shit? As far as he was concerned, they could shove their sanctimonious piety up their boring, unimaginative asses.

Emma’s high-pitched voice brought him back to the here and now. “The police won’t let me enter Chloe’s apartment. Not even for clean clothes, or my passport. I need my passport, Zane. How can I return to England without it?”

Return to England?
He’d only just met her, and he knew he didn’t want to lose her. Already he saw their perfect match falling at the first hurdle. He shook those selfish thoughts from his head, and concentrated on Emma. She was just sitting on the bed, gripping the duvet tightly, until her knuckles bared white.

Zane decided to take control. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. “Emma, look at me.” It took her a while, but eventually she lifted her gaze to his. “Go take a shower. You’re ankle is still swollen, so you’re in no fit state to drive. I’ll drive you there myself.”

Still in a daze she slowly nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, thank you. I’ll go and get ready right away.” She slipped from the bed totally oblivious now to her nakedness. “What about clean clothes? I can’t wear the clothes I wore last night. It will give the police the wrong impression of me.”

She knew as well as he did what the vanilla world thought of the BDSM scene. It was always wise to keep sexual preferences as discreet as possible.

“Just wear them for now, baby. I’ll buy you a less revealing outfit on the way over there.”

She clasped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, damn, what about my car?”

“Don’t worry, I’m already on to it. I found your keys downstairs. I’ve driven your car up to the house.”

A fleeting smile drifted to her lips, before wavering and slipping away completely. “Thanks, you seem to have everything covered.”

“Pretty much so.” He felt their connection as they stared at one another, and then she turned away, and it was gone. They were virtually strangers. They’d known each other less than twenty-four hours, yet it already felt like a strong bond was developing between them.

He just hoped they’d be able to ride out the storm that he knew was about to take over their lives.

Emma fidgeted nervously on the uncomfortable metal chair in the small, clinical room. She wondered how she would cope. Events had moved swiftly on from the unpleasant telephone call earlier that morning. Chloe, her best friend, was dead. She found it hard to accept, but nevertheless, it was now up to her to face the situation head-on. She knew her lifeless body lay nearby, awaiting positive identification. Clearly, the police had satisfied themselves that the body in their charge was that of her best friend, Chloe Watts. They were simply following procedure.

Zane sat next to her, occasionally squeezing her hand. She was grateful he was here. She knew he had an important business to run. He’d mentioned a shipment of diamonds and emeralds that were due in right about now. He’d put himself out on her behalf, even stopping to buy her a change of clothes from the first store they’d passed. Jeans and a sweater seemed far more appropriate than what she’d been wearing at Club Submission last night.
He’s a good guy
.

She liked Zane. They’d only known each other for a short while, but already he’d shown a caring side to his character. Strange, she hadn’t thought a man into domination and submission would be so genuinely concerned about her welfare. To his credit Zane had showed he was willing to step up to the plate. Not just for himself, but for others, too.
Me
.

A sinking feeling twisted in her gut when the door slowly swung open. A man and a woman wearing solemn expressions entered the room. The woman, aged about forty, spoke first. She was smartly dressed. For some reason Emma was surprised she wasn’t wearing a white coat. She held out her hand, “Hi, I’m Kathy Rochelle. I’m a forensic pathologist with the Boston Medical Examiner’s Office.” She turned to the man with her. “And this is Detective Dave Mitchell of the Boston Police Department. He’d like a few words with you after you’ve made a formal identification. Provided you feel up to it.”

Emma stood and shook the woman’s outstretched hand. She was aware her own hand was trembling. “I’m Emma Parkes. Chloe’s best friend. I reported her missing when I first arrived here in Boston.” Almost pleadingly she asked, “ It’s possible it’s not Chloe, isn’t it?”

Sidestepping her question, the woman said, “If you’ll just follow me please, Ms. Parkes.” The four of them walked from the room and down a long corridor. Emma felt as though she were a victim in some sort of ghoulish dream
. Is this really happening? Will I wake up and find it’s all just been a horrible nightmare?

Kathy Rochelle brought them to a stop in front of a plate glass window, measuring about ten feet by eight feet. A curtain lay drawn behind it, hiding the room beyond from view. Emma held her breath, knowing full well that her friend lay dead on the other side.
Please don’t let it be Chloe
.

Shivering inside, she glanced across at Zane. He looked grave and tense, too, but he gave her a reassuring nod and squeezed her shoulder. Kathy Rochelle spoke again. Her calm voice was strangely comforting. “Emma, in your own time, can you tell me if Chloe has any distinguishing marks?”

Emma slowly nodded. She felt her teeth chattering as she spoke. “Yes.”

“Would you describe them for me please?”

“She…she…she has a small tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. It’s of a red rose entwined with barbed wire.”

“Thank you. Any other distinguishing marks?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Kathy Rochelle squeezed her hand. “I’m going to draw the curtain back now, Emma. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes
.
”
But not really. Please, please don’t let it be Chloe.

Emma watched the curtains slowly part. She sucked in a deep breath and held it. A body lay on a gurney, completely covered by a white sheet. With a nod from Kathy Rochelle, an attendant slowly pulled it back, exposing the head and shoulders.

“Oh, God. Dear God.” Emma immediately held both hands to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Even though she knew what was coming, the emotional trauma at seeing her best friend dead shocked her to her very core. Her whole body began to shake. It looked like Chloe, but Chloe never wore an expression like that in life. Her face was contorted, as though she’d died in agony. Her mind fixated on the open eyes and mouth, unable to stop herself imagining the horror her wonderful friend had suffered.