Power Play [Pleasure Playground 2] (13 page)

Eve heaved a sigh of relief. “That would be awesome. Have I mentioned how glad I am you're here to help? That Dom of yours may turn out to be a godsend."

Her Dom
. It might take some getting used to, but she kind of liked the sound of that.

Hours later, Jennifer sat down on the floor and brushed some of the hair from her face. Sweat coated her skin, and she desperately needed some water. There was still a ton of work to be done, but the place was starting to look like more than an empty white box. Once she got some help with the placement of the counter and the cases, it wouldn't take her that long to finish pulling it together. Maybe one more day at the most.

Somewhere in the distance she heard the phone ring. Her muscles ached, and she didn't want to get up. Maybe Eve would answer it. By the third ring, she suspected her friend had disappeared elsewhere in the building. She hauled herself from the ground and made a mad dash for the reception desk. On the fifth ring, she grabbed the receiver and answered, “Altered Ego, can I help you?"

"Jennifer, is that you?"

Her blood turned ice-cold, and her heart seized.
Oh my God. No fucking way.

"Yes, it is,” she answered.

"It's Gwen.” As if she didn't recognize the dragon lady's voice the second she heard it. She tightened her grip on the phone and fought the urge to hang up. Whatever reason her stepmother had found to call her could not be good.

"Hi.”
What do you want now?
Acid burned in her stomach as she struggled with her composure.

"I am calling to let you know about your father. He's been ill. Not like you've bothered to call or keep up with him."

"What do you mean ill? What's wrong with him?” She ignored the witch's snide comments for now.

"It's his heart again. The doctor had to go in to break up a blockage. We almost lost him."

"What? Where is he now? What hospital is he at? Do I need to come home? Is he going to be okay?” Panic seized her.

"No, you don't need to do anything. That was last week. He's home now and recovering. But he could have died."

"Wait. What? Last week? Why didn't you call me sooner?” Her head began to throb. Her stomach heaved.

"I had no intention of calling you at all. You aren't part of this family, remember?"

Direct hit. Jennifer doubled over to catch her breath. In the blink of an eye she felt twelve years old all over again.

"You don't call. Not even on Father's Day. Why do you think you stopped getting Christmas gifts? If you can't keep up with your own father, then why should he bother to keep up with you? As far as I'm concerned, you'll never get anything ever again."

The hated tears her stepmother always invoked no matter how hard she fought slid down her cheeks. The last time she'd spoken to her dad, he'd pretty much told her that there was nothing he could do about his wife.
You should be used to her by now. It's time to just get over it
. Those words slid through her brain every time she thought about picking up the phone or going home for a visit. There was nothing she could do to change the past but, that didn't mean she had to live with it.

"Where is he now? Can I talk to him?” One more minute with this woman and she'd be ready to kill her.

"No, you cannot talk to him. I don't trust you not to upset him. I only called because he made me."

"Okay,” she muttered. “I'm glad he's going to be okay.” What was she supposed to say? Her stepmother was obviously spoiling for a fight, and Jennifer just wasn't in the mood to go there."

"I don't know why you bother to pretend to care."

At that exact moment, Eve walked back into the room. She laid eyes on Jennifer, and her face creased with concern.

"I've got to go now, I'm at work. Thanks for calling.” She slid the phone from her ear and dropped it into the cradle.

"Oh my God, Jennifer. What's wrong? Has something happened?"

She turned away to hide the tears. “No, everything is fine.” She gripped her stomach and willed the meager contents to stay down.

"No, you are not fine. What happened?” She grabbed Jennifer's shoulder and tried to pull her around.

She couldn't stand here and take pity from her friend. Her stomach wouldn't take much more, and she needed to get to a bathroom fast. “I've got to go. I'm sorry. Everything will be fine. I just need a few minutes."

"Of course. Whatever you need. We've worked hard today, so you should go on up and see Daegan. He was looking for you the last time I saw him."

She flashed a quick look of gratitude to the other woman. “Thank you. Please don't worry, everything will be fine.” Without waiting for a response, Jennifer fled the room and went for the nearest bathroom. Unfortunately the only restroom outside the photo studio was currently undergoing renovations. She'd either have to go back and face Eve, or go upstairs to Daegan's apartment. The key he'd tied around her neck earlier rested between her breasts. He'd wanted her to have a reminder of where she needed to be when she wasn't at work.

She'd found it an incredibly sweet gesture this morning. Now she grasped the key and held on to it like a lifeline. As quickly as possible, she ran for the stairs, taking them at a dead run. Her stomach continued to roil. In less than a minute, she made it to his apartment, whisked the key over her head and unlocked the door. A blast of cool air rushed over her when she got inside.

She didn't have much time. Dropping her key to the floor, she sprinted for the bathroom. Once inside she rushed forward, barely making the bowl before the heaving began and she emptied the contents of her stomach. For a long time after, the dry heaves shuddered through her until she collapsed on the floor. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. How did she let this crap happen to her? Not only had she escaped the fucked-up group she called family, she'd put an enormous amount of time and distance between them as well.

For the first time in a very long time she ached for someone specific to hold her. She'd give anything right now to have him curled around her naked body with his hands pinning her down. She needed.

Jennifer pushed to her feet and stared at herself in the mirror. Besides the red-rimmed eyes and the wild hair, she didn't look that much different from this morning. She quickly brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and set herself to rights again. No reason for Daegan to find her like this.

She wandered through his apartment for a few minutes, searching for any sign of him. When she found nothing, she stood in the middle of the living room and contemplated what to do. Her head ached. Her stomach felt ridiculously weak, and she wanted to cry again. Usually anger got her through one of these episodes, but the fact her father had been ill seemed to change everything. While she was relieved that he'd recovered, it devastated her to not be told until later. God, she hated that woman.

Without realizing what she'd done, Jennifer found herself back in the tiny room she'd slept in, staring down at the empty mattress. With her emotions now all over the map she wanted to embrace the memory of Daegan, no, her new Sir...new Master... She sounded them out, testing how they sounded. She'd stick with Sir for now. Master sounded so—so something more.

She'd felt safe here last night. More than that. Cared for.

Jennifer stripped her clothing and slid between the cool sheets, savoring the slight relief to her heated skin. Seeking more comfort, she curled onto her side in a repeat of last night. He'd left her alone and—Oh!

She lifted her head and spied the rope and cuff still attached to the bedpost. He'd shocked her when he'd tied her to the bed and then just left her alone. Although she'd not been alone at all. The sound of his footsteps outside her doorway had often reminded her he wasn't far. He'd been keeping an eye on her the whole time. He'd gone out of his way to make her feel safe even after she'd walked out on him.

The familiar burn of tears at the backs of her eyes prodded her to move. She grabbed the cuff and fastened it to her wrist. It didn't matter that she'd had the ability to get away if she wanted. The point had been he wanted her tied to the bed because he couldn't bear to find her gone again. Those words alone kept her company through a good portion of the night. Disappointing him again had not been an option. Now she curled into herself. She buried her nose into the sheets, drawing in a big breath and reveling in the mingled scents of them together. Her Sir.

The word came easier that time. She actually kind of liked it now. With his scent and her memories, she allowed the emotions to tumble free. Sobs tore through her as she released the pent-up frustration of her family once again getting under her skin. She slammed her fist into the pillow. This was ridiculous. She knew better than to let them get to her. When the tears dried up and her sobs became whimpers, a new sense of freedom settled over her. Here, cuffed to a tiny bed in an apartment in the middle of the day, a new sense of belonging settled over her.

With some of the fatigue of the day washed away, Jennifer slid her eyes closed and rested peacefully. She eagerly anticipated Daegan's arrival. He'd expect her to tell him everything about her day and somehow some way she'd figure out how to do just that. Whatever he wanted, she needed to give him. It was the least she could do for the comfort his actions had given her. Before she drifted off, she pulled her bindings taut and fell asleep with a clear mind and an open heart.

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"Come on in, Cathy. I wasn't sure you were ever going to come.” He ushered his sister-in-law into his apartment and closed the door behind them. He glanced through the living room, grateful Jennifer hadn't returned. Shame burned through him.

"It's been a rough time for us all, but I guess now is as good a time as any to get this over with."

"I couldn't agree more. Why don't you have a seat, and I'll get the box for you. Would you like something to drink?” He hated the awkwardness of the situation, but having her here now didn't sit right with him.

"No, no, I'm fine. I really don't want to take up any more of your time than I have to."

"No worries. I'll be right back.” He rushed into his bedroom and headed into the closet. It had been months since he'd contacted Cathy with the news he'd arrived in the States and that he had some personal belongings of Claire's that she'd wanted to go to her sister. Why the hell he'd never simply mailed them to her he had no idea. Her family had not approved of Claire relocating to Ireland when he'd decided to return home after college. She'd assured him that his wishes were her wishes, but her family had never forgiven him for taking her away.

He dug deeper into the closet, searching for the bloody box. He didn't really want Cathy to meet Jennifer. That meeting would probably not go well. He pushed past several bins full of clothing and a stack of magazines he really needed to throw away. In the corner he spied the box he wanted. He grabbed it and pulled it into his arms just in time to hear shouting coming from the living room.

What the hell?

He muscled his way out of the closet and burst into the living room to find Cathy standing in the doorway to the guest bedroom. She turned on him, her face red and contorted in rage.

"What is going on here?” She pointed into the room. “She is the spitting image of Claire, and she's chained to your bed."

Daegan's step faltered.
What?

He rushed forward and looked over his sister-in-law's head to the confused sleepy face of Jennifer huddled in the middle of the bed and indeed shackled to the post in a repeat of last night. With her hair mussed from sleep and framing her face, he could see where Cathy might see a similarity.

"It's not what you think,” he murmured.
Yeah it probably is.

"What I think is you've gone and done the most disrespectful thing to my sister's memory you could. It wasn't bad enough you forced her into slavery until she died, but now you're on your way to doing it again with a look-alike."

"What?” Jennifer sat up. “Who is Claire?"

Oh hell.

Cathy turned on Jennifer. “Claire is my sister. His wife. He took her to Ireland and I never saw her again. Not until she died."

Daegan couldn't tell whether Cathy was going to pounce or disintegrate into a fit of tears. He needed to do something quick to defuse this situation.

"You're married? I mean were—I don't—” Jennifer reached for the cuff at her wrist.

"Don't,” he ordered.

She swiveled toward him, disbelief in her eyes.

Cathy turned on him. “Give me the box so I can get the hell out of here. This whole situation sickens me. I should have listened to my gut when Claire first wanted to marry you. You've gone mad. Someone needs to do something about this.” She grabbed the package from his hands and spun back toward Jennifer. “Run while you still can."

"Cathy, wait. You never understood."

"I don't want to hear your lies. What you're doing here with—her. It's disgusting."

Daegan found himself torn between trying to stop Cathy so he could explain and going to Jennifer who sat stricken on the bed. What the hell was she doing shackled to the bed anyway?

"Cathy, I'm sorry you don't understand. But if you aren't going to listen, then I'm not going to waste my time."

Her face darkened. “I'll report you to the authorities.” She stomped to the front door. “One of these days, you will pay for this. I believe in karma, and you're going to end up in a world of shit for this."

She left the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Daegan rubbed his hand over his head and across his face. Good Lord, what a mess. This wasn't how he wanted to leave things with Claire's family. He had enough guilt to deal with as it was. Now he'd have to give them some time to cool off, and start again. He could never tell them that it was Claire who refused to leave him long enough to visit her family. She'd been possessed with the need to be by his side at all times. Even when she'd fallen ill, she'd worried only about him. No amount of coercion had changed her mind, and he didn't have the heart to go against her dying wishes. He glanced at the door one last time before making up his mind to consider Claire's family later. They were a part of his past.