Chapter 9
EMERSON
Emerson woke up the following morning in her own bed. She was completely unaware of how she had come to be there. Her last memory was of feeling completely sated and secure in Viktor's arms as he sang lullabies to her and rocked her to sleep. Yet here she was safe and sound in her own bed—naked except for the collar he had placed around her neck. The collar wasn’t tight, but she could definitely feel it—both the actual weight and its significance.
She rolled out of bed and groaned. Maybe going from no sex of any kind to a marathon of sorts hadn’t been the best idea. Emerson closed her eyes and images from the night before flashed before her eyes. She could feel her nipples stiffening and her pussy softening. She was wildly aroused, and the man wasn’t even in her room—was he? She whirled around to check. No. She was all alone. There was, however, a note propped up on the table beside her bed. It was the same handmade paper as his previous note had been written on and in his elegant penmanship.
Good morning, Malenkaya,
You were a very good girl last night. You are to follow the instructions contained in this note:
No masturbating unless I instruct you to do so for my enjoyment. All of your pleasure now stems from me.
Only lingerie provided by me is to be worn. No panties are allowed unless instructed by me to wear them
The collar is unremovable. The lock has been specifically designed to prevent tampering. So you are clear—the R that hangs from it stands for Romanov, not Ravenel.
If you must leave your office before I have the car pick you up this evening, you may shower. Otherwise, I want you as I left you—drenched in my scent and that of your own response.
When you arrive, you will strip yourself naked and wait for me—bent over the front of my desk with your legs spread so I can see how eagerly your pussy awaits my use.
Be my obedient submissive, and you will be rewarded. Disobey me and you will feel the sting of my displeasure.
Always,
Viktor
Emerson wasn’t sure whether to be infuriated or deeply aroused. Unfortunately for her brain, her body had decided deeply aroused was the only choice. She could almost hear the words in the note tumbling from his lips in an accent that seemed unique to him. It was partly what she imagined to be imperial Russian, with a touch of upper-class English, mellowed by years spent in Charleston. It was dark and melodic, and she was fairly sure if he wanted, he could talk her to orgasm.
She looked at the collar in the mirror and gasped. Tegan might be their authority on gems and jewelry, but it didn’t take an expert to know the thing was worth a small fortune. The white diamonds sparkled in the meager sunlight filtering in through her windows and were in great contrast to the ruby-studded R that hung from it. How like him to remind her that the R was for his last name and not hers, although most people would assume the latter. She was certain Viktor didn’t care much for what other people thought or assumed about him.
Tugging at the collar, she realized it would not be easily removed. He meant for her to wear it, she guessed as a reminder that she had agreed to be his submissive. Emerson gave it a hard yank that did nothing to make it loosen. It lay comfortably around her neck. Most wouldn’t know its significance, but she was figuring out her two younger sisters would.
Pulling her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, Emerson dressed in a soft cotton mid-length skirt and a slouchy, oversize silk-knit sweater with a deep V neck. If Viktor didn’t send her instructions about what to wear tonight, she would just wear this. After all, she had the distinct impression she wouldn’t be wearing much at all after she got there.
She entered the office she shared with her sisters and they both looked up.
“You must have had a monumental night,” teased Kendra.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Tegan, grabbing her loupe and rushing across to examine the collar.
“Anybody know how I got home?” Emerson asked casually.
Her sisters looked at each other. “You don’t know?” asked Kendra.
“Not a clue. The last thing I remember is falling asleep in Viktor’s arms, and then I woke up in my bed.”
Kendra said, staring at the diamond choker wrapped around her sister’s neck. “With the collar on?”
Time to get things on a more open and honest footing. “No that happened after he fucked me leaning over his desk.” There was a stunned silence. “I’m glad the ruby pendant is an R. I can tell people it stands for Ravenel.”
“But you know it doesn’t, right?” Kendra asked. “Because if you don’t, let me disabuse you of that notion. The R is for Romanov and anyone who knows him and knows the two of you are involved will know it.”
Tegan was busy examining the thing. “Please tell me the damn thing is made of cut glass or some kind of laboratory made gems,” said Emerson.
Tegan snorted. “Hardly. These white diamonds are gorgeous. They are perfectly matched in cut, clarity, and carats. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a set of jewels as stunning as these, and that includes the royal jewels of several countries. And I hate to tell you this, but the red ones aren’t rubies.”
“That’s okay. I like garnets.”
Tegan laughed. “Not garnets, nor spinels, nor carnelians.”
Emerson reached up to touch it. “Then what are they made of?”
“There’s only one gemstone with that color, clarity, and crystalline structure. That R is made of red diamonds and exquisite ones, at that. Their value meets or exceeds the white diamonds around your neck.”
Even Emerson knew red diamonds were among the rarest of gemstones. “I don’t think I want to know the value of this thing.” She pulled at the collar and then turned her back to Tegan. “Unlock the clasp.”
“Why?” asked Tegan confused.
“Doms can get really pissy about their subs removing a collar they’ve placed around their neck,” Kendra warned.
“I am not his submissive…”
“That collar says differently. Besides, if you don’t remember getting home, then it must be that Viktor brought you. If you weren’t wearing what you had on last night…”
“I wasn’t wearing anything but this stupid collar,” she said tugging at it again. The weight seemed far more significant now than she’d originally thought.
Kendra laughed. “Then Viktor must have brought you home and tucked you in himself.”
“Maybe he had someone else do it for him,” suggested Tegan.
“Not a chance. He might be willing, and probably will, show you off naked at the club, but there’s no way he sends you home with anybody other than himself to tuck you in. If I were you, I’d check to see if you have any pajamas or nightgowns left.”
“Don’t be stupid. He wouldn’t steal my clothes.”
Kendra shrugged. “Think what you like. By the way, Tegan put your flowers back in the vase he sent you.”
Emerson glanced at her desk. It really was a gorgeous vase. “Thanks, T. Are you sure you can’t get this thing off my neck?”
“Even if I could, I don’t think I would. Viktor wouldn’t be too happy about that. Did he have you sign a contract?”
More details of the night they’d spent were coming back to her. “Yes, but it’s just for ninety days.”
“Was it written specifically for you?” asked Kendra leaning forward.
“Yes. Is that significant?” Kendra leaning back in her office chair and whistling told her it was. Choosing to ignore her, Emerson said, “Don’t you two have work to do?”
She went to her desk and sat down, booting up her system and beginning to go through her email. Normally, if she came across an email whose address she didn’t recognize or which seemed odd, she dispatched it without opening, but there was something about the one from a sender whose address was a jumble of letters and numbers—completely unfamiliar and making no sense at all—that caught her attention.
Her finger hovered over the keys and her heart began to hammer as she opened the email. She squinted, looking at the email address and trying to make sense of it, as if narrowing her eyes would help. It didn’t. Nothing came to mind nor made her connect with it in any way. Frowning, and with a worried brow, Emerson clicked on the message, her eyes darting down the screen in search of a name. There was none.
A chill ran down her spine as she began to read. The email consisted of a brief paragraph, followed by several photo attachments. She hesitated only a moment, her finger floating over the first attachment. Taking a deep breath, she clicked.
The first image appearing on her screen showed Viktor, the man who seemed to be dominating all of her thoughts this morning. She looked twice to make sure that it really was Viktor. It was, but he seemed to be sharing a meal with Oliver Toney. Toney's greasy smile was unmistakable, his eyes glinting with the promise of deceit. Viktor, on the other hand, looked composed, his expression inscrutable.
Her stomach churned as she clicked on the next image. Viktor and Toney were in an office, the background revealing it to be a high-end hotel room, perhaps the Wentworth Mansion? Viktor appeared to be signing documents, his pen gliding smoothly across the paper. Zooming in, a glance at the documents appeared to reveal those which had caused many of the city’s wealthiest denizens, including some people she cared about, to lose thousands. It was generally believed that Toney had been behind the money laundering scam, but nothing had been able to be proven.
The final photo made her blood run cold. Viktor and Toney stood side by side, shaking hands. The image was crisp, clear, and damning. Viktor's face was calm, almost detached, while Toney's smile was smug, victorious.
Emerson's hands trembled as she stared at the screen. She had always known Viktor had a dark side, one which he didn’t try to hide. It was fascinating and repugnant in equal measure. But this? This wasn’t something she could even fathom. Oh, she knew there were rumors he had ties to the Russian mob, but this was a level of betrayal she hadn’t anticipated. She felt a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion swirling within her.
Why was Viktor involved with Toney? What did this mean for their relationship, tenuous and complicated as it was?
She forced herself to read the brief paragraph again, hoping she had missed something, some clue that would make sense of it all. But the words remained the same, stark and unforgiving.
"These photos were taken during the Charleston deal. You should know who you're dealing with," was all it said.
No signature, no indication of who had sent them. Emerson’s mind raced, trying to figure out who could have access to such intimate moments. The sender had to know the gravity of these images, the impact they would have not only on her but on Viktor’s reputation. This was the kind of info that might give the police what they needed to bring down Toney and restore several family fortunes. The other part of the Ravenel family was rumored to have lost a bundle.
Did she owe her father’s family, the one that had disowned him, knowledge of what she’d been shown? Did she owe Viktor anything because of their burgeoning relationship? Was it even a relationship? Not sure of the answer, she closed the email and tried to focus on the work she needed to complete.
Emerson's heart pounded as she considered each image, each line of text. They were all daggers to her heart. Viktor and Toney, together in ways that seemed too intimate, too secretive. She had discovered them by chance—or rather someone had wanted her to discover them—but the implications were clear. If Viktor was in bed with Toney, both literally and figuratively, everything between them was a lie.
In that moment, she realized just how deep she was in. The darkness surrounding Viktor was vast, and she was caught in its web, unable to escape even if she wanted to.