Chapter 5
Paloma
Silas grabbed my arm before I could escape down the hall, breathing heavily in my ear.
“Please,” he said roughly. “What do you want to stay? Whatever is is, I’ll give it to you.”
I dabbed at my eyes for the benefit of the paparazzi who were still craning their necks at the Capitol Building to get a good view of the developing sex scandal.
Governor Di Pietro caught cheating on his much younger wife, her tears broadcast for the whole world to see.
It was all sooo touching. . .
Soooo tragic. . .
It was all so perfectly planned.
Whitleigh staggered inside, looking rumpled and wild-eyed, followed by my friend Rowan, who was posing like they were on the runway.
“Vultures. . . they’re like vultures,” she gasped.
“Vultures are drawn to dead flesh,” I put in. “So what’s that say about you?”
She gaped at me, then looked angrily at Silas.
“And you’re just going to let them tear me apart?”
“What do you expect when you acted like such an idiot on camera?” he snarled like the political gangster he was. “We’re through, Whitleigh.”
“Don’t be so hard on her,” I said. “After all, it’s not like she knew you were married.”
Whitleigh’s face flushed red as a beet. Because of course she knew, she’d been to countless dinners and balls and charity events in my company.
She’d looked me in the face.
She’d complimented my dress.
And all along she’d been wiggling her ass for my husband’s idiotic role-play.
What a shock. What a terrible, terrible shock.
“I’m feeling faint,” I wailed to Rowan, swooning as they caught me easily.
Rowan had a fine sense of the dramatic, which is of course why they were one of my oldest friends and the perfect one for this job.
“She doesn’t deserve this!” Rowan cried in their beautiful, melodic, and very very carrying voice, loud enough to reach out to all the journalists on the lawn. “She’s been nothing but faithful to him!”
“I’m sorry!” Whitleigh screeched, two high spots of color on her cheeks. “I’ll never touch him again, I swear!”
Everything was descending into a fine melodrama when my husband jerked the curtains down and smiled at Rowan with his bright piranha white teeth.
“Any friend of my wife’s is a friend of mine.
I’d love to get you into a consulting position for our state government.
If you would step this way, perhaps my Chief of Staff Mario could talk with you about any areas of governmental expertise you feel you have.
. .causes you are passionate about. . .”
Rowan met my eyes as I gave them a tiny nod. Why not? The more money Silas lost, the better.
Time for the next part of the plan and the $5 million dollars would be all mine.
Silas’ hand was on my lower back as he guided me out the side entrance and into the official gubernatorial limo.
I slid across the slick leather seats and met his eyes. Even a big limo wasn’t big enough for this man, the suit jacket perfectly tailored to his bulky muscles and broad shoulders, big hands gripping his slacks.
“I fucked up. Give me another chance,” he said.
“Not this again. Your nice wife Paloma is dead,” I retorted. “Sorry, only your bitchy soon-to-be-ex-wife Paloma remains.”
He didn’t move a muscle, still staring at me with those heavy-lidded dark eyes.
There had been a point. . .sometime in the early days, that I’d wondered.
What if this was real?
It had been natural to wonder that. Only stupid lizard brain biology, because he was a stern, handsome man with an Adonis jaw, thick dark hair, and an attractive sprinkle of silver at his temples.
But that’s all it had been. Nothing more.
Silas was a cold-hearted bastard who didn’t actually want a wife, only a convenient blonde smiling casserole-making receptacle for his cock.
And everyone knew it wasn’t morally wrong to scam a bastard.
“I want the bitchy Paloma too,” he said without blinking.
Oh he was slick, all right.
“Why would I want you, cheater?”
“That’s all over,” he said. “I swear.”
Silas held up his phone and tossed it to me.
“Go through the text messages. Then delete her number.”
I tossed it back to him irritably. Why was he still on about this? He wasn’t supposed to care this much. We should have had the divorce papers signed already.
“Who said you got a chance for redemption? I don’t care if you do see her. As long as you divorce me and give me my money, you can do whatever you like.”
“Tell me what you’re into,” he parried. “What was that club you mentioned yesterday?”
“A sex club,” I said.
His brows drew together sternly.
“Where? There’s no sex clubs in this city.”
I smirked.
“There’s a lot about this city you don’t know.”
He leaned forward. “Take me there then. I’m willing to try anything to save our marriage.”
His voice lowered to a low rumble. “Anything.”
The lewd offer stood there, waiting.
What was the best way get rid of this man? He was not getting the hint.
“I”m into dominatrix and pet play.”
A muscle twitched in his jawline.
“What the hell is pet play?”
“How would you like wearing a collar and barking like a dog?”
He swallowed hard.
Oh, I knew that would get the old bastard thinking twice.
I smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
I reached into my purse and waved the divorce paperwork at him, then pointed to where I’d signed my name with a flourish. Paloma Di Pietro.
“Sign here.”
“No. I want a second chance. I’ll try it.”
“Try what?”
“The pet play stuff.”
I glared at him, trying to figure out what kind of game he was playing at. Apparently the old bastard wanted to play chicken with me. Well, I’d play chicken right back. He’d break soon enough.
“Fine,” I said as the limo slid past the gates and into our long driveway.
“What do I need to do?”
“Tonight you must address me as Mistress and say Yes, Mistress to what I request.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
As he opened the door for me, I stifled my irritation at his low, hungry voice, the obscenity of his eagerness.
“And you must let me put a collar around your throat. You are my pet to play with for the night.”
He instantly reached for his tie, and my eyes narrowed as he pulled the knot out, popping the top button and baring his strong throat.
“I’m ready, Mistress.”
“Now, go inside and wait by the door.”
I went to my closet and grabbed the steamer trunk I’d hidden way in the back, and grabbed a few items that would come in handy, as well as a black leather dress, fishnets, and high heels.
And, of course, his dog collar and leash.
When I got back, the most powerful man in the state was still standing by the door waiting for me to give him an order, and I took my sweet time walking toward him.
Silas eyes dilated with desire, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped eagerly. After a few years of wearing gingham dresses, it was nice to be back in my leather again.
“On your knees,” I ordered, and he immediately complied, dropping heavily to the ground in front of me.
Even on his knees, and in my high heels, he was uncomfortably big and tall, but I ignored that.
I put the collar around his throat, my fingers brushing by the raspy beard on his chin.
It was a strange, prickly sensation knowing Silas was here with a slim leather collar under his silk shirt, but I ignored it and went into the Governor’s Mansion library, a massive, dark-wood room with shadows in the corners and a crackling fire in the old-fashioned grate.
I placed the dog bed in front of one of the couches and selected a beautiful, red velvet copy of Wuthering Heights from one of the shelves.
“Now we’ll have a nice evening in,” I said. “And I’ll see if my pet behaves himself. If he’s a good boy, he’ll get to eat from the doggy dish.”
Silas widened his eyes for a moment, then he said, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Can I change my clothes, Mistress?”
“No,” I said. “It would please me to see you in the doggie bed in your suit.”
For a moment a muscle throbbed in his jaw, but he crawled stiffly over to the dog bed, the bell gently tinkling on his collar.
It was the biggest dog bed on the market but his bulging muscles still spilled all over it, the loose tie dragging on the floor as he attempted to find a comfortable position.
When he was finally settled very awkwardly, I sat on the couch opposite him, crossing my legs, slowly, watching as his eyes dragged down my thighs to the sharp points of my stilettos.
“Mistress, will you let me pleasure you?”
I examined my fishnet stockings, feeling the heat of his gaze.
“No, I don’t think you’ve been very good. You may sit there and be quiet.”
I began to read as he lay on his side, shifting uncomfortably.
This man wasn’t going to make it five minutes.
But he did, the minutes stretching on as my husband lay there, and I saw sweat begin to drip down his face as he struggled to stay in one place and fit on the bed.
I did not like the discovery that he was this stubborn. He should have been out of the marriage as soon as I disclosed I had been lying to his face the entire time.
“Bark like a dog for me,” I said absently. “I like a lot of protective energy in my pets.”
Woof! the governor went instantly, his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on me.
Woof woof woof
Something about the enthusiasm with which he threw back his head and howled for me truly pissed me off, because I could see that gleam in his eyes. That wasn’t a submissive gleam there.
I ignored his howls, and went back to my reading, and then there was silence except for the crackling of the fire.
My husband was clinging on way too long to this farce of a marriage.
After a few quick taps on my phone, it was only fifteen minutes later when the doorbell rang.
I went and got our delivery order. The best steak and potatoes in town, and I could practically see Silas drooling. He must be hungry.
“Mistress, may I please apologize again for my behavior? It was wrong, and my arrogance and conceit are to blame. I thought myself invincible.”
“Request denied,” I said.
I crossed my legs again, slow and languorous, making sure he saw that I had no panties on, that my pussy was totally bare.