Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
Ten years later …
Amber
“How are you sleeping?” Dr. Forrester asks.
I’m standing at the window, staring out at the parking lot, rubbing my arms. I’m not cold, but sometimes, I feel chilled for no reason. It’s like a phantom cold, if that’s a thing. It happens to my arms and legs out of nowhere, and I can’t shake it.
I shrug.
“That’s not an answer, Amber,” Millie points out. She insists on me calling her Millie, and since I’ve been seeing her for five years, I guess we’re acquainted enough for me to do so.
I sigh and turn to face her, leaning against the windowsill. I often wander around her office instead of sitting on the loveseat.
“Nightmares?”
I nod. “About half the nights. Usually, a few hours after I go to sleep.”
“Are you able to get back to sleep afterward?”
“It takes me a while, but eventually.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to prescribe something to help you rest?”
I shake my head. I hate taking sleeping pills. They make me groggy the next day.
She glances at her notes. “Jacob Marone was released from prison last week.”
I nod and mutter, “Yes.”
“Are you concerned?”
I shrug. “Not really. He was a kid at the time. I don’t believe he had anything to do with planning my kidnapping or instigating it. That was all on his brother and his brother’s stupid friends. Jacob was a victim, too.” The truth is I’ve always kind of felt sorry for the kid. He was seventeen at the time of my kidnapping. He doesn’t have a very high IQ, and I’m certain he got swept up in his brother’s bad plan. The question is whether he’s angry with my brother or me and might be out for vengeance.
“Keep me updated, and if you change your mind about sleeping pills, let me know.”
“I will.”
“Do you want to talk about Isaac?” she asks, gesturing toward her office door. “He looked more intense than usual when I called you in.”
I reach for my ponytail and run a hand down the long length. “He’s not happy with me.”
Millie chuckles. “When is he ever happy with you?”
She has a point.
“Maybe if you didn’t make his job so difficult, he would be more pleasant. He’s your bodyguard for a reason. He’s lasted longer than any bodyguard you’ve ever had. I’d say that makes him one of the good guys.”
Maybe if I didn’t make his job so difficult, he would end up in my bed, and that’s the last thing I need .
“Did you give him the slip again?”
I wince. “Yeah.”
Millie narrows her gaze. “What’d you do this time?”
“I was meeting with the art director at one of the galleries showcasing my work next month, and I might have exited through the back door while he was waiting at the front.”
“Why do you think you feel the need to evade him, Amber?”
I shrug. I sort of know the answer, but I’m not willing to admit it out loud. He’s not like the eleven previous bodyguards I’ve had in the past ten years. I chased all of them off. They each lasted barely a year. I’m slippery like that.
Isaac Bailyn has been with me for over two years, and no matter what I do, he never quits.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Millie asks.
I stiffen. She never offers her opinion. Not like this. She likes to get me to tell her what she wants to hear.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here, Amber, but I think it’s a short limb. I know you well, and we’ve discussed Isaac pretty often over the past two years. I think you have feelings for him, and it scares you, so you keep him at arm’s length.”
I stop breathing. She picked up on that? Of course, she did. She’s my shrink. I pay her to pick up on things. “I don’t know,” I mumble. She might be right. I’m not one hundred percent sure why I’m so bratty with Isaac. And that’s what I am—bratty.
Partly, it’s habit. I’ve been giving my bodyguards the slip from the moment Spence assigned me the first one. With Isaac, it’s more. I’ve always known that, but I treat him the same as I’ve treated all the others. The difference is he has not quit.
He has not left me.
I think I brought a few of the men to tears. Not that I ever saw anyone actually cry, but I know I was a blow to several people’s egos when they couldn’t manage to keep track of one tiny woman. They probably hated admitting to my brother that they’d lost me. All of them eventually quit.
Isaac hasn’t left me. He gets frustrated but never ruffles enough to lose his temper or bitch to Spence.
“Do you have feelings for him?” Millie asks. That’s a direct question I know the answer to.
I draw in a deep breath. “Probably.” That’s a lie. I have all sorts of feelings for Isaac, but they scare me to death, and I never want him to find out.
“You’ve mentioned he’s a Daddy Dom. Have you let him see your Little at all?”
I shake my head. “No. Never. We don’t discuss it. I only know he’s a Daddy Dom because I’ve heard Spence mention it. I’ve never even gone to Surrender on the same nights as him. Plus, I didn’t really internally acknowledge I have a Little side until recently. I didn’t admit it out loud to anyone until I told Spence and Ben’s girlfriend, Cassandra.”
I’m so glad my brother has finally found a woman to love and opened his heart. I’m equally pleased he shares her with his long-time bodyguard, Ben. It was Ben who rescued me from that basement. My brother hired him on the spot, and the two of them instantly formed a friendship that runs so deep thatthey share their Little girl.
I’m also jealous that Spence has managed to bury his fears and let someone into his heart. I haven’t had the will to do that. I think we both suffer from the same internal panic that loving other people is risky. They might die. Our parents did.
Millie clears her throat, dragging me back to the present. “Have you explored your Little side at Surrender?”
I groan and roll my head back. “I haven’t gone to Surrender in months. Isaac refuses to let me go on nights he’s there. And my brother refuses to let me go on the nights he’s there. They both try hard to find any reason not to let me go to the club.”
“You are thirty—a grown adult. You could go without their permission,” she points out.
I consider her words. “Maybe, but there’s no way either of them would let me go without a bodyguard. I don’t think Isaac trusts anyone else to protect me properly, so he’s reluctant to let me go anywhere at all when he’s not the one with me.”
Millie’s brows rise. “So, your bodyguard doesn’t trust other people to protect you.” She’s not asking a question. She’s making a point.
I rub my temples and groan.
“That sounds like a boyfriend, Amber. Not a bodyguard. A very concerned boyfriend who’s extremely dominant and protective. How many hours a week does he work for you?”
I bite my lip as I think about it. Hours? Isaac is always with me. I can’t even remember when he last took a night off to go to Surrender or anywhere else. When was the last time he left someone else to guard me?
I run a hand through my hair again. Lordy. I’ve never put much thought into the fact that no one takes over for him. It happened gradually. He moved into my spare bedroom almost a year ago. He and Spence decided it would be easier if he lived with me. Less commuting. Less hassle.
Isaac has no life.
I’m an idiot. A self-absorbed idiot.
All I ever think about is avoiding him. I never think about the fact that he’s given up his life to be with me nearly full-time. Why would he do that?
I blow out a breath. “He never leaves me.”
Millie blinks. “Never?”
I shake my head. “I assume my brother pays him a fortune to be my personal bodyguard.” That’s a lame excuse.
Millie leans forward. “Amber, nobody works twenty-four-seven for any amount of money. Not unless they’re getting something else out of it.”
I gasp. “Trust me. He’s not getting anything else out of it.” I’m offended she would even suggest such a thing. If I were having sex with Isaac, she would know.
She winces. “I didn’t mean to imply you were sleeping with him. I meant to point out that he cares about you far more than a bodyguard cares about a client.”
I stare at her. “Do you really think so?”
“I know so.”
“But I’m a pain in the ass.”
She chuckles. “Oh, I know you are. And has he left?”
“No.” I turn and look out the window again, thinking. I have never discussed this possibility with anyone. I haven’t even allowed myself to consider the idea. Why? Self-preservation?
Isaac and I have an odd relationship. Mostly, I’m a brat, and he’s frustrated. He never ever loses his cool, but he has a way of making me feel like I’m very naughty with just a disapproving look.
The truth is I like it. I like it when I infuriate him and the only outward sign I’ve done so is the tic of his jaw and his narrowed eyes. I’ve seen him flex his hand on many occasions, too. I like to think he does it when he wants to spank me. I’ve made that up in my head, but what if it’s true?
The thought of Isaac taking me over his knees and spanking me until I cry invades my thoughts often. I don’t say a word, but I push him and push him. Is it because I like to see that look on his face? The one that says he’s my Daddy and I’m in big trouble?
I’d give anything if he finally snapped one time, grabbed my arm, hauled me over his thighs, pulled down my pants, and spanked my ass until I couldn’t sit for two days. I can’t think of anything I’d like more in the world—except maybe for him to fuck me clear into tomorrow afterward.
These are fantasies, though. They aren’t reality. In reality, I would never do any such thing. First of all, it’s obvious Isaac doesn’t think about me that way. If he did, wouldn’t he have acted on his feelings by now?
Plus, I would panic and lose my mind if I really found myself in that sort of intimate situation. No one has ever spanked me. Not my adult Amber nor my Little. I’ve never even let my Little out. I don’t know her that well. She’s all in my head. She’s someone I recently admitted existed to Cassandra, and then Millie, but no one else.
The times I’ve been to Surrender, I’ve never gone to the daycare. I have watched people get spanked in the main room. Lots of people enjoy it. But I’ve never had the courage to ask someone to spank me. Besides, there is no one I would let touch me like that.
Except Isaac .
I shake the thought away. What’s wrong with me? I can’t let Isaac touch me, either. It’s not who I am. It’s too risky. I’m a fortress. My walls are high. No one can get over them. It’s intentional. If I don’t let anyone in, they can’t hurt me when they leave.
I’m a psychiatrist’s nightmare, which is why I see Millie every two weeks and have for years. I know she’s my crutch, someone to dump on, but she’s the only person who knows me—really knows me.
The Amber I present to the world, including my brother and Isaac, is feisty and sassy. I nearly always dress down like I’m heading into my art studio. I like ripped jeans and torn shirts. Everything I own is paint-splattered—even my Converse. My hair is nearly always in a ponytail and looks uncombed.
I’m outwardly bubbly and can be loud. If they gave awards for being sassy and bratty, I would beat any Little at Surrender, hands down.
All of that is a facade. It’s how I present myself. I don’t know my Little well. She’s all in my head. But I don’t think she’s bratty or sassy. She wants to crawl into the back corner of the closet, curl up with a good book, a sippy cup, and her teddy bear, and hide. It’s possible she would suck her thumb if no one were looking.
Now that I’ve admitted I even have a Little side, I’ve been reading books. All of the books. I have a better idea of who I think my Little is. But it doesn’t matter. She’s not coming out. She will remain buried.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen if you talked to Isaac about your feelings?” Millie asked.
I shrug and fiddle with my fingers in front of me, staring down at them. The idea is too preposterous and scary to contemplate.
“I think you know the answer,” she prods.
I draw in a deep breath and lift my head. Tears form in the corners of my eyes. I never cry. Not in front of people. Where is all this emotion coming from? My bottom lip trembles, and it takes several seconds for me to find my voice. “He might leave me,” I whisper. That’s my deepest fear. If I rock the boat in any way, Isaac might leave. I’ve been the same person around him from the moment he started protecting me. What if he likes our dynamic? What if he likes the chase? The challenge? If I stopped making him earn every dime, he might grow bored.
She smiles. “Do you really believe Isaac would leave you?”
I shrug again. I shuffle toward the loveseat and sit, which is very rare for me, but I feel drained, and my legs might give out. I rub my hands together. “He’s never given even the slightest indication that he sees me as anything more than a bratty client.”
“I disagree,” Millie says.
I flinch and frown.
“He’s still with you after two years of your shenanigans, and, Amber, he’s with you every minute of the day and night. You’re his entire life.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way,” I admit. Isaac and I have the oddest relationship of any two people on Earth. I wake up every day wondering where he is. I pretend to sneak around my apartment as though hoping he won’t notice me. I do everything I can to avoid him. But deep inside, I would die if I didn’t know he was never more than a few yards away in an adjacent room.
Sometimes, late at night, when I’m scared or can’t sleep, I tiptoe to the kitchen to get a drink of water. There’s water on my nightstand. I only do it to reassure myself that Isaac is still in my apartment. He does not close his bedroom door. He told me the day he moved in that he would not close it at night so he would be able to hear if anyone tried to enter the apartment.
Sometimes, I stand in the doorway and watch him sleep, reassured by the rise and fall of his chest that he’s there and I’m safe. I would never admit to anyone besides Millie that I have fears. I’m always cocky and flippant with Isaac, Spence, and Ben.
I put on a front with all three men, pretending I’m unaffected by my kidnapping, and I’m totally fine. I often groan and even throw tantrums when the three of them refuse to let me do something.
Secretly, I’m grateful for their oversight. I don’t actually want to do anything without protection. I just fake it, like I’m stronger than I feel. Every time I give Isaac the slip, I nearly hyperventilate until he finds me.
Usually what I do is go back to my apartment and wait. It doesn’t feel as safe as when he’s in it with me, but I like it when he shows up exasperated with me for sneaking off again. I like the calm lecture he gives me about how much my brother pays him to keep me safe and how challenging I make it for him to do so. I like the disappointment in his voice and that damn flexing hand.
Sometimes, I stare at his hand the entire time, wishing he would put it to use and teach me a lesson.
The entire thing is a game—one I’ve been playing for ten years. My life is a precarious balance of just enough misbehavior to keep Isaac hopping and not so much that he gives up on me and leaves.
I can’t change things, and I won’t. I’m greedy. I want Isaac in my life at arm’s length. I won’t let myself fall in love with him, and that’s what would happen if I let him into my heart or my bed.
I can’t do that because when he’s done with me, I won’t be able to survive.