32
"That was... weird," Brandon said once Amanda shut the door behind them.
"Good weird or bad weird?" Her tone wasn't sadistic, stripped entirely of the imperious edge she wore whenever she ordered him around. In fact, she looked surprisingly calm, even tender. It was strikingly disarming to see that side of her.
"Weird. Weirdly satisfying. Sorry if that wasn't what you were expecting, but I think it was pure catharsis after dealing with all the other club members.
It's one thing having to bow and scrape because it's my job.
Being able to actually fire back beats keeping my head down just to protect a paycheck any day.
" Brandon shrugged, scratching the back of his neck as he let the unfamiliar rush settle inside his chest. "Though in my defense, you looked like you were having the time of your life. You basically nudged me off the cliff."
Amanda smiled and stroked his arm, nodding in quiet approval of how he'd stood his ground.
"Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean, I don't really know where all of this is going between us.
But I don't want to drive a wedge between you and your family.
It was a rush, sure, my adrenaline's still pumping and my chest is pounding, but at the end of the day, the fallout hits you a lot harder than me.
And besides that, everything has been a blast, but...
well, I don't know. You get what I mean.
I'm not saying I want this to end, I just think... you... me..."
"Shhh." Amanda's smile softened as she pressed a finger against Brandon's lips, derailing his runaway train of thought. "I know."
Then she wrapped her arms around him. A real, genuine embrace.
Brandon leaned into her warmth. Amanda held him tight—not suffocating, but firm enough that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.
She pressed him flush against her body, generating a shared heat that melted a barrier already hanging by a thread: a brittle layer of ice holding back something far deeper than raw physical attraction.
"You are mine, Brandon," she whispered against his ear. "And it's good to know you can grow a spine and stand up for me. I would've done the exact same thing. I take care of what belongs to me, and it's nice to know it cuts both ways." She let out a soft laugh.
"I..." Brandon surrendered to it. Not just the possessive words, but the fierce protectiveness humming beneath them. He wasn't some piece of property, yet he found himself genuinely craving to belong to her. "I am. I'm yours, Mistress."
"You don't have to call me Mistress right now."
"I know."
They lingered like that for a moment on the front walk outside her father's estate. The landscape lights cast cool blue highlights over their embrace while the warm glow of the porch lantern blurred the lines between their arrangement and something far more real.
When she pulled back, Amanda's smile remained soft and inviting. She's stunning either way—whether she's barking orders or caring for me.
Then she clicked the key fob, the chirp of the car unlocking snapping Brandon out of his trance.
"Come on. Let's get you home."
The drive back was surprisingly easy. Amanda, this intoxicating figure Brandon had placed on an untouchable pedestal, had somehow elevated herself even higher in his eyes while simultaneously stepping right down to meet him on his level.
Neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't strained, though; it was a welcome buffer from the outside world, a reprieve from the whirlwind of the evening and the chaos they'd left behind.
It wasn't until the blonde pulled up outside his apartment building that he realized he hadn't uttered a single word.
"Not quite the night you had in mind, is it?" she asked.
"Definitely not."
Brandon clenched his fist. He couldn't shake the creeping dread that Amanda might cut him loose after everything that had just gone down. Logically, he knew better—her words on the front porch were still echoing in his head. Even so, the gnawing insecurity was stubborn, refusing to let go.
She took him by the chin, guiding his face until he had no choice but to meet her eyes.
"I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd see my father look so utterly shocked and appalled. So I don't know about you, but it didn't go the way I expected, either." A slow, sultry, affectionate smile curved her lips. "It was so much better."
That took some of the weight off Brandon's shoulders, though the rest of the baggage still lingered.
"About the rent... I... no." Brandon stopped himself. "Never mind. I'm going to stop overthinking it."
"Like I said, I don't care about the money.
I wanted to do it. Hell, even if I hadn't done it because I care about you and want to look after you, seeing the look on that old hag's face would've been worth every penny.
" That coaxed a dry laugh out of him. "I'm not my father, sweetheart. Money isn't everything to me."
"I think I get that now, especially after dinner. I just have to get used to it."
"And you will. In the meantime, don't ever let our dynamic stop you from coming to me if you need help. After tonight, it should be glaringly obvious that this is more than just a game."
"You mean..." Brandon started, trailing off as he struggled to find the right words—or maybe just too scared to say them out loud.
"I'm talking about us, Brandon."
Amanda's blunt honesty was the final push Brandon needed to voice everything that had been building inside his head over the past few days.
"Yeah. That's what I want, too." He locked eyes with her gaze. "I want it to be more than a game. What we're doing, and with Isabella too. I want it to be real. Something tangible."
"Oh, really? I'm not enough to satisfy you on my own?"
Brandon froze for a second, right up until he caught the glint of challenge in Amanda's eyes; the very same spark she used to test him at the club, bending him to her will.
"No, Mistress."
"Have I mentioned you have quite the smart mouth on you?"
"You have."
"Then you'd better hit the gate and invite me upstairs, assuming you actually plan on convincing me you want more than just getting into bed with me and Isa."
Brandon blinked, realizing he was still sitting there like an idiot.
Fishing his keys from his pocket, he pressed the clicker for the apartment gate.
Amanda started the engine again, wheeling smoothly into Brandon's vacant parking stall—his own beat-up ride was still sitting over at Janet's shop.
He stepped out, shutting the door behind him and noting just how absurdly out of place a luxury BMW looked in this gritty lot.
Amanda locked the car, and together they made their way toward the stairs leading up to his unit.
Passing the ground floor, Brandon spotted the porch light on at Nancy's place and wondered if the old woman was peering through the blinds at them.
He'd caught her spying through the slats more than once.
He glanced at the blonde beside him. She looked completely out of her element here, too; the fancy dress, the heels.
Brandon found himself captivated all over again by how gorgeous she was.
Amanda caught him staring and slipped ahead of him, taking the stairs with an exaggerated, predatory sway of her hips that put her ass right at eye level.
She abruptly stopped on a step, and Brandon nearly stumbled right into her.
Amanda giggled and peeked over her shoulder, that signature mischievous smirk flashing across her face.
"Just wait until Isabella finds out I spent the night at your place."