Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
F or three days after the break-in, Jeremy doesn’t leave my side except to run back to his place and pack a bag. He works from my dining room table while I take time off, answering emails on my laptop but mostly just trying to regain my equilibrium. He sleeps beside me in bed, but we haven’t had sex. He’s been making breakfast every morning, somehow knowing exactly how I take my coffee without having to ask.
It should feel intrusive, this constant presence in my carefully ordered life. Instead, it feels... right. Like he belongs here. Like the missing piece of a puzzle I didn't know was incomplete. He’s bossy and a bit arrogant, but I find myself more and more attracted to it.
"The police have no leads," I tell him on the third morning, scrolling through an email from the detective. "They think it might be connected to the Richardson break-in. Same MO, similar timing."
Jeremy frowns, setting a plate of avocado toast in front of me. "I've hired a private security company to look into it. Something doesn't add up."
"You hired a private security firm?" I look up, surprised. "Why?"
"Because you're important to me." He says it simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And because two break-ins, at your properties, in less than a month isn't a coincidence."
"You think someone is targeting me specifically?" The idea sends a fresh chill through me.
"I think it's a possibility we should consider." He sits across from me, his expression grave. "Have you received any threats? Angry clients, disgruntled employees, anyone with a grudge?"
I shake my head. "No. I mean, not everyone loves real estate agents, but I've never had anyone threaten me."
He nods, but I can see he's not convinced. "Just be extra careful until we figure this out. Don't go to showings alone. Let me know your schedule."
Under normal circumstances, I'd bristle at being managed. But after the terror of the break-in, his concern feels more comforting than controlling.
"I have to get back to work eventually," I point out. "I can't hide forever."
"Not asking you to hide. Just to be smart." He reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. "I can't lose you, Gina. Not when I just found you again."
The naked emotion in his voice steals my breath. This isn't just attraction or nostalgia. This is something deeper, more serious than I've allowed myself to acknowledge.
“You belong to me, kitten. If you put yourself in danger again, you aren’t going to like the consequences.”
Consequences? The threat makes my pussy pulse. I thought calling him Daddy during sex was a kink of his… but this?
“I know what kind of books are on your e-reader, kitten. You’ve left it on the table a few times. Fitting, since I’ve been a practicing Dominant for decades now.”
My phone rings before I can respond, saved by the ring. It’s my assistant, calling about a potential new client. As I take the call, Jeremy stands, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before moving to the living room to give me privacy.
* * *
By the end of the week, I've returned to work, and Jeremy has reluctantly returned to his own apartment, though he still calls or texts multiple times a day. The break-ins at both properties remain unsolved, but life goes on. It has to. We’ve developed something between us akin to a new relationship, but perhaps, stronger. He feels like my boyfriend, the one from before… before he saved the country by going undercover with the CIA. I’ve asked him some questions, and he’s told me what he could. Enough to prove he didn’t make up the story or the cover. It explains why he’d never had a social media account, how he disappeared without a trace. He’d been across the world under an assumed alias.
I'm grabbing coffee between showings when my phone lights up with a text.
Sydney: Mom, have you seen this???
Attached is a link to a local business news article. The headline makes my blood run cold: "Ford Development in Talks to Acquire Elite Realty in Surprise Move."
My firm. Jeremy's company is trying to buy my firm. Without telling me.
I abandon my coffee and call him immediately, heart pounding. Straight to voicemail. I try again. Same result.
Next, I call Richard. His assistant says he's in meetings all day and can't be disturbed. How convenient. How fucking convenient.
I drive to Jeremy's office, fury building with every mile. The receptionist tries to stop me.
"Mr. Ford is in a meeting, Ms. Long –” but I brush past her, heading straight for the conference room where I can see Jeremy through the glass walls, surrounded by men in suits.
Furious, I push open the door without knocking. Every head turns toward me, conversations halting mid-sentence.
"Gina," Jeremy says, surprise evident in his voice. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly," I say, my voice icy calm despite the rage boiling inside me. "Can I speak with you? Privately?"
He stands immediately, buttoning his suit jacket. "Gentlemen, ladies, let's take twenty."
As the others file out, casting curious glances at me, Jeremy approaches. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
I thrust my phone at him, the article displayed on the screen. "Is this true?"
He glances at it, then meets my eyes steadily. "Yes."
The single word hits me like a slap. "Were you going to tell me? Or just let me find out when you became my partner? I get that Richard has a controlling stake in the firm, but I was planning on buying his share out."
"Of course I was going to tell you." He runs a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "The negotiations just started. Nothing's finalized."
“That's not the point, Jeremy! The point is that you're making moves to take over my company! My career! My livelihood, without even mentioning it to me. After everything we've..." I break off, too angry to finish.
"It's not what you think," he says, reaching for me.
I step back, out of his reach. "Then what is it? Explain it to me. I know you are dominant and I’d consent to that in the bedroom, in our relationship… if that’s even what we have. But this? I’d never consent to you taking over my career!"
He sighs, eyes never leaving mine. "The security company I hired found something. The break-ins at your properties? They're connected to a larger pattern. Several high-end properties listed by Elite have been targeted over the past year. Only Elite."
"What?" This is the first I'm hearing of it. "Why wouldn't Richard tell me?"
"Because I think he’s the one behind it. The company is almost bankrupt. He's been covering it up. He has a major gambling problem and wants to go bankrupt, which requires the company to take certain losses. The more insurance claims he can make, the more he has to pay out on paper…"
I shake my head, disbelieving. "No. Richard wouldn't put his agents at risk like that."
"He sent you alone to a property where a break-in was actively happening," Jeremy points out, his voice hardening. "He knew about it, Gina. He hired a criminal enterprise to break into the expensive properties. He gave them security codes."
“Why not do it a different way? Move money around?”
“He uses the money for gambling. His addiction has cost the company every dollar. The IRS sent notice of an upcoming audit. The figures have changed drastically over the last several years.”
My mind races, connecting dots I hadn't seen before. The Richardson break-in. The timing. Richard's insistence that I handle the aftermath alone.
"So what, you're buying the company to... what? Protect me?" The idea is absurd. "You don't spend millions on a real estate firm just for that."
"Don't I?" His eyes hold mine, intensity radiating from him. "What would you do, Gina, if someone you love was in danger? If you had the means to protect them, no matter the cost?"
Love.
The word hangs between us, impossible to ignore.
"You can't just throw money at every problem," I say, because it's easier than addressing what he just admitted. "You can't control everything, everyone in my life?—"
"I'm not trying to control you." He steps closer, and this time I don't back away. "I'm trying to keep you safe. To give you a future where you don't have to be afraid."
"By going behind my back?" My anger hasn't fully subsided, though it's softened at the edges. "By making decisions about my life without consulting me?"
"I was going to tell you everything. Tonight, actually." He sighs. "I wanted all the facts first. I wanted to be sure. I was waiting on the video footage from the private investigator. We set up a sting of sorts. My investigator went undercover at the high stakes poker game Richard has been playing with some very wealthy men in town. After a few bourbons, he confessed everything. I wanted to tell you, with the evidence in hand. I don’t know how the paper got wind of the deal…"
I search his face, looking for deception, manipulation, the signs I've trained myself to spot in two decades of dealing with clients who lie about what they can afford, sellers who hide property defects.
All I see is sincerity. Concern. And yes, love.
Still, I can't quite let it go. "You should have told me. We're supposed to be..."
"What?" he prompts when I don't finish. "What are we supposed to be, Gina?"
It's the question I've been avoiding since he walked back into my life. What are we? What do I want us to be?
"Partners," I say finally. "If this is going to work—whatever this is between us—we need to be equals. No secrets. No behind-the-scenes maneuvers. You tell me everything, even if you think it will upset me. Especially then."
The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. "Agreed. We should always be open and honest, with no secrets." He reaches for my hand, and this time I let him take it. "I'm sorry. I should have told you my suspicions as soon as I had them."
"Yes, you should have." But I squeeze his hand anyway, the anger draining out of me. "So, what happens now? With Elite?"
"That's up to you." He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "If you want me to walk away from the deal, I will. If you want to stay and help me fix the issues, you can. Or..." He hesitates.
"Or what?"
"Or you could strike out on your own. Start your own firm. I'd back you completely; financially, professionally, however you needed. No strings attached."
"Why would you do that?" I ask, genuinely curious.
His smile is gentle. "Because I believe in you. Because you're the most capable person I've ever known. Because I want you to have everything you've ever wanted."
"Everything?" I echo, a new kind of tension building between us.
"Everything," he confirms, his voice dropping to that register that makes my skin tingle. "Starting with me."
It's as close to a declaration as we've come. My heart hammers against my ribs, years of caution warring with the undeniable truth of what I feel for this man.
"I think," I say slowly, "that I'd like to discuss this further. Tonight. At your place."
His eyes darken with understanding. “We will be discussing a lot of things tonight at my place, kitten. Dinner at six?”
I nod, though we both know dinner is the last thing on either of our minds. "I'll be there."
As I turn to leave, he calls after me. "Gina? I meant what I said before. About love."
I pause at the door, not quite ready to say it back, but not denying it either. "I know." I meet his gaze one last time. "See you at six."
The smile that spreads across his face is nothing short of triumphant.
* * *
The Naughty Girls are ecstatic when I call an emergency video meeting to fill them in.
"He's buying Richard’s share of the company to protect you?" Maya asks, her eyes wide. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."
"Or the most controlling," I point out, playing devil's advocate despite having mostly made peace with his motives.
"There's a fine line between protective and possessive," Elizabeth agrees. "But it sounds like his heart is in the right place."
"And now you're going to his place tonight to... discuss it?" Jessica waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Should we expect another book club meeting anytime soon?"
I laugh, some of the tension of the day finally easing. "Maybe. I don't know. It's complicated."
"Love always is," Elizabeth says wisely.
Love.
There's that word again. The one I've been avoiding, hiding from, running away from for thirty years.
"I think I love him," I admit, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "I think I never stopped."
Their collective "Awww" makes me roll my eyes, but I'm smiling too.
"So what are you going to wear tonight?" Faye asks, practical as always. "Please tell me something better than those boring suits."
"Hey, those suits are designer," I protest, but I'm already mentally rifling through my closet for something decidedly un-businesslike.
"Wear the red dress," Karen suggests. "The one with the slit up the thigh. Trust me."
The red dress. I'd bought it years ago for a charity gala and never had the courage to wear it. It’s too bold, too sexy, the slit much too high for professional Gina Long. I don’t know why I never returned it. It wasn’t right for the Holiday Gala, so I bought another, more conservative red gown.
But maybe, just maybe, it's exactly right for the woman I'm finally allowing myself to be.
* * *
Jeremy's expression when he opens his door and sees me in the red dress is worth every penny I spent on it. His eyes darken, traveling slowly from my loose hair to my stiletto heels, lingering on the high slit that reveals a glimpse of thigh with every step.
"You look..." He seems at a loss for words, a first for him.
"Thank you," I say, enjoying his reaction more than I probably should. I step past him into the apartment, the confidence I've always had in my professional life finally extending to this more personal arena.
Dinner is set up on his terrace again. It’s beyond romantic with candlelight, wine, and a view of the city stretching out below us. But neither of us seems particularly interested in eating.
"I've been thinking about your offer," I say, taking a sip of wine. "About starting my own firm."
He nods, watching me over the rim of his glass. "And?"
"I was planning on buying out Richard’s share soon anyway. He’d mentioned retiring. Now I know retiring wasn’t exactly the truth. I think I'd like to do it. But on my terms."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." His smile is warm, encouraging. "No strings, like I said."
"Well, maybe one string." I set down my glass and move around the table, closing the distance between us. "I want you to believe that I can make it on my own. That I don't need you to succeed. I need to know that no matter what happens between us, with how much control I give you in our personal lives, the business is mine."
He stands, meeting me halfway. "I already know that, kitten. You've never needed anyone. It's one of the things I love most about you."
There it is again. Love. So easily spoken by him, so difficult for me to acknowledge.
"What else?" I ask, my voice hardly more than a whisper. "What else do you love about me?"
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my bottom lip. "Your strength. Your determination. The way you never back down from a challenge." His eyes hold mine, intense and unwavering. "The way you look in this dress. The way you looked thirty years ago, laughing in the rain. The way you'll look twenty years from now, when we've built a life together."
My breath catches. "You're very sure of yourself."
"No." He shakes his head slightly. "I'm sure of us. Of what we could be, if you'd let yourself believe in it too."
I've spent so long being cautious, protecting myself, keeping people at arm's length. The idea of letting someone in, really in, terrifies me. But the alternative? Walking away from this second chance terrifies me more.
"I'm trying," I whisper. "To believe. To trust."
"That's all I ask." His arms slip around my waist, drawing me closer. "That, and one more thing."
"What's that?"
His smile turns wicked, a glimpse of the dominant man hiding behind the polished businessman. "That you let me take this dress off you. Slowly."
Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly. "I think that can be arranged."
His mouth claims mine then, the kiss deep and possessive and full of promise. I surrender to it, and to him, with a completeness that would have terrified me a month ago.
Jeremy’s kiss deepens, his hands roaming down the curve of my back, fingers toying with the zipper of my dress. He pulls back just enough to murmur against my lips, “Turn around, kitten.”
My breath stutters, but I do as he says, my bare arms hanging at my sides, heart drumming wildly in my chest. His fingers move slowly, deliberately, easing the zipper down the length of my spine. The dress slips from my shoulders and pools at my feet like a ribbon of fire. I feel the cool air against my bare skin, and then his warmth behind me.
“No bra,” he says, voice low and thick with heat. “You planned this.”
“I thought about planning it,” I admit, glancing back at him with a little smile. “But mostly I just wanted to see how you’d look at me.”
Like, the way he’s staring at me right now. A starving man standing before a buffet of deliciousness. He steps closer, his hands warm on my waist as he guides me backward until the back of my thighs brush against the couch.
And just when I think he’ll press me down and take me, just when I think I know where this is going, he pauses.
His hands catch my wrists, gentle but firm. “Wait.”
I freeze, looking up at him. “Wait?”
“There’s something we need to settle first,” he says, eyes searching mine. “You told me professionally you need control, independence and respect. And you’ll have all of it. That’s yours, Gina. Always. But here”—he gestures between us— “when it’s just us, when it’s personal… I need your trust. I need your submission.”
I swallow hard. Did I hear him correctly? “Submission?”
“Not just sex,” he says. “I want us to build something deeper. Something honest. This isn’t about games. It’s about you letting go when we’re alone. It’s about choosing to let me lead.”
My pulse pounds in my throat. “You mean like you mentioned the other day?” He’d so casually dropped the fact that he was a practicing Daddy Dom and knew exactly what kind of books I read, before we were interrupted and never returned to the conversation.
His smile flickers. “Exactly like that. If we do this, I will take care of you. I set the tone. And when it’s needed, correct you. Discipline isn’t punishment. It’s structure. Safety. Boundaries. I want to give you that, if you want it too. Are you ready for me to take charge of our relationship? No more games. Just you and me, doing life together for however long we have left. I want to be the last man you kiss, the last man you wake up beside. You were my first love and I want you to be my last love, too. We only do this if you consent, kitten.”
He waits, patient and unshakable.
The word is in my mouth before I can second-guess it.
“Yes.”
That single syllable changes everything. Jeremy’s eyes darken with approval. He sits on the couch, pulling me gently over his lap, adjusting me until I’m draped across his thighs, completely exposed, my bare skin flush against the fabric of his slacks.
“You’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders for a long time,” he murmurs, smoothing a hand down my back, then over the curve of my ass. “But not tonight. I’m not spanking you for discipline, kitten. I’m spanking you to establish the roles in our relationship. I’m spanking you to demonstrate exactly what will happen in the future. I’m spanking you because, damn it, I want to. You’ve given me enough sass in the last two months to drive a man to his limits.” He chuckles.
The first slap lands with a firm crack. I gasp, not from pain, but from shock and then warmth floods the spot he just touched, blooming deep inside me. Another slap. Then another. It’s rhythmic, controlled, and strangely… intimate. With each swat, I feel something else cracking open inside me. Something old. Something guarded. The walls I put up when he left me began to tumble down around me.
He alternates each sharp strike with a gentle caress, his other hand never leaving me. Never letting me drift too far. His swats are measured, controlled. They aren’t too hard but there’s enough of them coming down fast enough that the burn begins to build. It starts to hurt but also… it feels… almost good. Desire pools in my belly. I’ve never been spanked before. Never dominated like this. Letting go and letting someone else have control has never been one of my strengths but it’s incredibly freeing. He stops caressing and the swats fall harder, faster. This spanking is more freeing than any chains being removed. I give in and allow myself to stop thinking and simply feel. I don’t know how long I laid over his lap being spanked before the tears started. Then the ugly sobs. And then, I collapse and let go and submit freely and completely. The release is incredible.
When it’s over, he shifts me up into his arms and presses a kiss to my temple. I feel like a weight was dropped from me… a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying but now that it’s gone, I realize exactly how heavy it was. The weight of having to be in control at all times, the weight of the walls built to hold me in. All gone.
“You did so well, kitten. “I’m proud of you.”
Those words undo me more than the spanking. I turn into him, eyes burning, arms sliding around his neck.
Jeremy stands, lifting me into his arms like I weigh nothing. “Now,” he says, voice low and rough, “let me show you how Daddy takes care of his girl.”
In the bedroom, he lays me down like I’m something delicate, something cherished. I’m still trembling, skin hot, nerves alight. My nipples are tight, my pussy wet. I’m aroused and ready for whatever he does next.
“Still with me?” he asks, kneeling beside the bed.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper.
He smiles, and it’s like a fire of desire catching behind his eyes. Those two little words were his kryptonite.
“Arms above your head.”
I obey and he leans in, his mouth finding my breast, licking and sucking until I’m arching into him, moaning. His hand travels down, slow and sure, fingers parting me and finding just how wet I already am.
His groan is low, primal. “You liked that, didn’t you? Being spanked. Being reminded who you belong to.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please, Jeremy?—”
His gaze sharpens.
“Try again.”
My cheeks flush. It’s hard. Harder than it should be. But I feel safe. I’ve always wanted this.
“Please, Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
And then he’s between my legs, and nothing else matters. His tongue is devastating, drawing circles of pleasure until I’m writhing, clutching the sheets, begging. He takes me over the edge and holds me there, praising me as I fall apart with my first orgasm of the night.
“Maybe you should have eaten more of your dinner. You’re going to need energy for all the ways I’m going to make you mine tonight. How many orgasms do you think you can handle in one night? Shall we find out?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, realizing you are never too old to have a Daddy Dom of your very own.