2. Ronan
Chapter 2
Ronan
I pace my office, phone in hand, still convinced Lucia will agree to my offer. Why wouldn’t she? Now she’s single, she can accept it.
I smile to myself. The prospect of her being mine. Her being under my control and obeying me makes my neck prickle.
Lucia needs me. She doesn’t know it yet, but she will.
I press my hand over my neck, feeling the heat of my skin as I think about her.
I don’t know why I want her so much. She’s too young for me. She’s my friend’s daughter, my daughter’s friend. I should run from her, not want her.
But she’s rankled me since her hand touched my thigh in Florida months ago. And now every time I talk to her, it stirs up emotions I’ve tried and failed to suppress.
I love the way she challenges me, but I refuse to dwell on the deeper implications of how she makes me feel.
I turn my cell in my hand again.
I only left her office an hour ago, but I’m already regretting walking away from her without my answer.
Yes, she said no. But that’s an answer I won’t accept.
She wants me. I know it.
My office door creaks. I turn to it.
“We never received the Champagne order,” my brother Caleb tells me.
Caleb is seven years my junior. The product of my father’s affair with a much younger woman. But when his mother died, my mom took him in and treated him like her own.
I doubt I would’ve been so amenable.
“Can we get an emergency order from another supplier?” I ask him.
“I’m waiting for some call backs. In the meantime, I rang around. The Boston club has ten bottles we can pick up.”
“Ten. That won’t be enough. Can you call Zander and ask if his supplier can help us out? And then call our supplier and tell them they’re in breach of contract.”
Zander Silk is my business partner and jointly owns and runs my club in New York.
Caleb nods as he leaves the room and I go back to staring at my cell.
Exasperated, I call her.
Her phone rings and rings and when she finally answers with a soft “Hello, Mr. Bridge” I smile.
“Miss Simmons, I need you to look over the legal documents for drink suppliers. What clauses do we have for non-compliance?”
She laughs, the sound like music to my ears. “Mr. Bridge, you could have just asked me earlier.”
I lean back in my chair, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I had more pressing matters to discuss with you.”
“Oh I know.” Her tone is playful. “So, are you needing to end your contract? Because there is always a route out of a contract for non-compliance.”
“I may want to terminate, and I need to discuss it with you now.”
“I’m on my lunch break, Mr. Bridge. I can discuss it with you in twenty minutes when I’m back in the office. But I have another appointment booked at two this afternoon.”
“Where are you now?”
“At Cafe Delite . It’s—”
“I know where it is.” I leave my office and stride across the hallway and into the opposite office before glancing out of the second level window, spotting her in the coffee shop across the street, sipping on a coffee. “What are you eating for lunch?”
“Just a chicken sandwich.”
I narrow my eyes, knowing full well she’s lying to me. “Are you sure about that? Because I think you’re lying to me.”
She laughs. “I already have an overbearing dad, Mr. Bridge. I don’t need a Daddy.”
A low grunt rattles up my throat as my cock hardens at her words.
And without another word, I march back to my office, grab my jacket and head out the door, determined to see her again.
It doesn’t take me long to reach the cafe and the table she is sitting at.
I pick up her apple, eyeing it curiously. “I thought you were having a sandwich.”
Lucia’s brows furrow in annoyance. “It’s not in my budget today.”
I scoff. “You must earn six figures a year.”
“Ninety grand,” she quips with a roll of her eyes. “Unfortunately, the Hunter Valley is an expensive place to live and I don’t earn New York money.”
“You share an apartment with my daughter.”
“Still expensive. And after that and my taxes, I have to pay a percentage of my salary toward my student loan.”
“Yet you still turned me down.” I lean back in my chair, fixing her with an intense stare.
Our eyes meet and I watch as a ripple runs down her throat. “I have thought about it. Non-stop, in fact. But—”
I smile, sensing her wavering resolve.
“Tell me exactly what it entails,” she says, her eyes glance at the table, her tone coy.
Just then, a server approaches our table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“A coffee,” I reply. “And a chicken salad.” As the server disappears, I turn my attention back to Lucia. “Exactly as I told you earlier. One month and I will pay off your student debt. For each week you’re mine, I will pay off twenty-five percent of your debt. If I don’t want you... I mean, if I don’t want you around after two weeks, I will pay off your debt earlier.”
“Is two weeks your usual limit?” she asks, staring into my eyes.
“Limit?”
“Before you get bored with…what would I be exactly?”
“Mine. Temporarily .”
Lucia’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand what you get out of it.”
I lean in, my voice low and gravelly. “I get to see you come undone when I want to. I get to touch your skin, to feel your body shiver underneath my touch as I run my fingers up your spine, across your hips, between your thighs.” My gaze intensifies and I watch as she wriggles in front of me. “I get to taste what is mine and see your eyes widen and your mouth ajar, just as you are right now.”
She chuckles nervously. “You really just say it as it is, don’t you?”
“It’s the only way, Miss Simmons.”
She tilts her head to one side and considers me for a moment. And I like it until she says, “So, I’ll be like a high-class hooker?”
I lean back in my chair, my gaze locked on Lucia’s face as I consider her words and realize this is her problem–or mine. “You’re not a prostitute, Lucia,” I murmur, my voice low and soothing. “I’m simply taking ownership of your debt. In return, I will get to enjoy your company. Own your trust, and have your obedience.”
I reach out, my fingers brushing against the back of her hand. “All I want is for you to not worry about anything. To give yourself over to me, completely.” My eyes search hers, willing her to understand and believe me. “Just don’t ever lie to me, Lucia. Be honest with me, and I’ll take care of you.”
The server arrives with my food, and I nod my thanks, pushing the plate of chicken salad towards Lucia.
Her eyes open wide and she shakes her head. “I can’t take your food,”
“I bought it for you. Now eat,” I murmur, spearing a bite with my fork and lifting it to her lips. Her eyes go even wider in surprise, but she parts her lips, allowing me to feed her. “I don’t want you losing your curves.”
I lick my lips as I savor the way her mouth parts around the fork, the way her tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of dressing. Imagining how she’ll look on her knees, parting those delicious pink lips for my cock.
“As for how it will work,” I continue, trying to push those thoughts away, but my voice is rough with barely contained desire as I say, “Friday evenings, we’ll go somewhere discreet for dinner.” I pause, my gaze dropping to her lips again. “And then, whenever I need you, I’ll summon you to the club.”
Lucia’s brow furrows slightly. “Only the club?” she asks, her voice soft.
I nod, my hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I can’t take the risk of you coming to my home,” I admit, my thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek. “But the club is safe, private. No one will know.”
She looks so disappointed it hurts me to see it, but just as quickly as she shows it, she covers her dismay with a bright smile. “But you don’t mind feeding me lunch in the street?”
“I’m making sure you eat.”
She nods lightly. “So no overnight stays,” she adds.
“It’s not a relationship, Lucia. It’s an arrangement.”
Her eyes lock onto mine as she slowly uses her knife to press another piece of chicken onto her fork. It hovers in the air as she says, “An arrangement. No relationship, so no kissing. Four weeks and a guarantee that you won’t hurt me.”
“Correct.”
“I don’t have a membership card. Will there be somewhere for me to park my car?” She puts the chicken in her mouth and chews. Her eyes drift toward my business.
I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the rich, bold flavor as I study Lucia across the table. Her brow is furrowed as she chews the bite of chicken. “I’ll have a driver pick you up each time.”
“What about Amelia?” she asks, her gaze meeting mine. “Your daughter will suspect something.”
“Just don’t leave the apartment with her and she won’t be a problem.”
Lucia nods slowly, her fingers drumming against the tabletop. “Okay, so...what exactly should I wear if I was to agree to this arrangement? I don’t have the budget to buy expensive clothes.”
I lean back in my chair, my lips curving into a small smile. “That’s simple. I’ll have a box of clothes delivered to your apartment each time I want you to come to the club.”
Her eyes open wider than ever. “You’re going to dress me?”
“Precisely.” I reach across the table, my fingers brushing against the back of her hand. “I’m going to do everything for you, Lucia. You’ll be relinquishing your power to me, remember?”
She scoffs, pulling her hand away. “I’m not into control freaks, Mr. Bridge.”
“Oh, but you are.” I chuckle, taking another sip of my coffee. “And that’s precisely why this arrangement will work so well for you.”
Lucia’s brow furrows, her lips press into a thin line. “I’m not a sub, Mr. Bridge.”
I can’t help but smile at her defiance. “Maybe not,” I concede, rising from my chair and shrugging on my jacket. “Maybe I have you wrong.”
I turn to leave, but Lucia’s voice stops me.
“Mr. Bridge.”
I glance back at her, one brow raised in question.
“When do we start?”
My smile widens as I step closer, leaning down to murmur in her ear. “Now, Lucia. I’ll have a driver pick you up at eight.”
I don’t want her to think too much more about it.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she nods.
As I turn, I take my phone and send the first saved message in my cell to the discreet boutique I’ve used in the past. I already have Lucia’s dress and shoe sizes.
I stride back to my office, my mind racing with thoughts of Lucia. The way she accepted the food I bought her, how she let me feed her that first bite without question. She doesn’t even realize how naturally submissive these slight gestures are.
My cock twitches as I remember her lips parting for the fork. God, the things I want to do to that mouth.
Settling into my chair, I loosen my tie.
Four weeks.
That’s all I need to get her out of my system. To teach her what she truly craves, even if she fights it at first.
But something twists in my gut when I think about afterward. About someone else commanding her, touching her, making her submit. Some other man taking what I’ve taught her and…I shake my head.
This isn’t about possession or feelings. This is about mutual satisfaction. About showing her who she really is, deep down.
She may deny being submissive now, but I’ve seen the signs. The way she follows orders without realizing it. How she seeks approval in those brief glances. That delicious shiver when I use my commanding tone.
I pull out my phone, typing a quick message to her.
“Be at your desk at 4 pm. I’ll call you.”
My finger hovers over the send button. This is my last chance to back out, to keep things professional. To not complicate everything with family and business connections.
But the image of her sitting across from me, accepting my food, following my lead...
I press send.
Four weeks. That’s all. Just enough time to train her, to show her what she needs, before I let her go.
This is just business…and a lot of pleasure.
Nothing more.