Chapter 27 Stay with Me
STAY WITH ME
Vera
“Why the hell would you say no after everything we’ve been through?” Alistair’s grip tightened around my elbow.
I yanked free and caught his hand instead, forcing him to look at me. “Because I’m scared, Alistair. Scared someone’s out for my blood if I get close to you.”
His eyes burned into mine. “You said you trusted me. Do you have faith in me?”
“Yes.” The word slipped out as his hold closed around me.
“Do you believe I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you—and your family?”
“Yes.” My throat was tight, but I didn’t look away.
“Don’t let anyone bully you into being too scared to do what you damn well want, woman.”
“I won’t.”
“If anyone comes for you, they go through me first. And trust me, Vera, they don’t want to find out what that means.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing temptation close to my ear. “So what’s it going to be? Stay with me?”
My answer tumbled out before I could stop it. “I’ll stay with you.”
I knew better than to underestimate Alistair’s wrath.
He was the kind of man no one survived crossing.
But I wasn’t afraid of him. I trusted him.
For the first time in too long, I wasn’t alone.
With him beside me, we were a team again.
And that gave me back what I needed most: confidence and courage.
Whoever the bitch was who’d tried to hurt me, she might’ve won a round, but I would win the war.
Alistair laced his fingers through mine and led me toward the center of the ballroom. A blonde woman with a sleek bob stood beside a tall man with a crown of gray curls, both engrossed in the gesturing theatrics of a politician I recognized from the evening news.
“Excuse me, Paul,” Alistair interrupted smoothly, resting a hand on the senator’s shoulder. “I’d like to introduce a friend of mine to my parents.”
I smiled to myself, already picturing poor Saph drowning in the madness of Senator McGrath’s office. God help her.
“Scotty, I was just telling your parents about—”
“Spare the details.” Alistair stared hard enough to shut the senator up mid-sentence.
“I’m Paul McGrath,” the senator said, wiping his trousers before shaking my hand. “I bet you’ve got a warm heart. I can tell by your eyes.”
I laughed lightly, keeping it polite. “Vera Richland. I work at Hunting & McCormick. The firm supported your last campaign.”
“Ah, a lawyer,” Paul said, his smile broadening. “Good firm. They must keep you busy.” He glanced toward Alistair, then nodded to the couple beside him. “Pleasure to meet you, Vera. Elizabeth, John, have a good evening. I’ll call you, Scotty.”
With a quick salute, he drifted off toward a cluster of party loyalists, their matching lapel pins catching the chandelier light.
“Hello.” The blonde woman stepped forward, her voice warm. Her green eyes mirrored Alistair’s as she smiled. “I’m Elizabeth Scott. And this is my husband, John.” She gestured with an open palm to the tall, gray-haired man at her side.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving firm handshakes to Elizabeth and John.
“You’ve got a good grip,” John complimented my handshake. “Strong and solid.”
“Vera is strong,” Alistair boasted. “I’ll have her working with me one day. Clemonte Oil Engineering could use a sharp legal mind on tenders and contracts.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, speaking softly. “Clemonte is a good company, but perhaps Orion is expanding. They’ll be looking for strong women to lead within the year.”
“Thank you,” I said, warmed by her kindness.
“And what do you do besides practice law?” John asked, curiosity glinting in his eye.
“I play the piano, mostly to relax,” I admitted. “And I love theater, both the ballet and plays. I used to be active in a Toastmasters club, but work won out.”
“Public speaking,” John murmured, scratching his chin.
“Vera led her school’s debating team,” Alistair chimed in, clearly enjoying himself.
John leaned closer, his tone dropping into fatherly advice. “Let me tell you this, Miss Richland. Work to live, don’t live to work. Life is worth more than being chained to an office. My son could take you to the opera, to a ballet, maybe even Shakespeare. Do you like Shakespeare?”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a small smile.
“Which play? Comedy or tragedy?”
“Both. I’m fascinated by the psychology of Hamlet, and I also enjoy the magic of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“I prefer Othello. It examines love, jealousy, prejudice, and betrayal. Quite a dramatic mix, don’t you think?” John asked, eyeing Alistair.
“Oh, absolutely,” I hummed, feeling Alistair’s hand boldly clasp mine.
“I hope to see you around more, Vera,” Elizabeth stepped in, sensing the discomfort between Alistair and his father. She glanced at her son’s hand, and her lips quivered into a soft smile.
“I’m retiring early tonight,” Alistair announced, tickling my palm to hint it was time to leave.
“Enjoy the evening, Vera. You should visit our home one day,” Elizabeth insisted, touching my arm gently.
Fifteen minutes and a dozen polite interruptions later, I exhaled as we slipped out of the ballroom. “We made it out alive,” I muttered, patting Alistair’s arm as we cut a path toward the elevators.
He slid his hands into his pockets while we waited.
“Do your parents know about your breakup with Rebecca?” I asked once we were inside an elevator.
“Of course they know.” He hit the top floor button without hesitation. “My mother never liked Rebecca. Truth is, she was never fond of any of my exes. They called her difficult.”
My brow arched. “Really? She seemed warm to me. I like her. And your father? Straightforward.”
His grin flickered, that devastating smile that made me want to bite my lip. “They like you.” He leaned casually against the glass.
I forced my eyes off him. “Oliver and Erin weren’t here tonight. Why?”
“They’re at another event,” he said, a shrug tightening his shoulders. His mouth flattened into a line that told me there was more to it.
The penthouse was sleek, all glass and clean lines, but I barely noticed it past the thrum in my veins.
I tossed my handbag onto the sofa and wrapped my arms around Alistair.
He didn’t return it. He stood there, staring out at the city lights.
He’d been all over me tonight, heat and hands everywhere, but now there was distance, a wall I couldn’t read.
“Are you alright?” I asked, then rubbed my shoulders, feeling the chill of his silence.
He turned, fingers catching a strand of my hair, winding it slowly around his knuckle. That simple touch reeled me in until there was no space to breathe. His eyes burned into me, merciless. A low growl escaped from his throat as his breath shivered over my lips.
“I’ve got plans for you tonight,” he murmured, letting my hair fall as his mouth brushed mine.
The kiss was instant fire, tongues tangling, bodies colliding. I melted against the hard lines of him: lean hips and sculpted muscle so familiar, so intoxicating.
“What kind of plans, Mister Scott?” I teased, sliding his jacket off his shoulders.
His lashes lowered, a sinful smile tugging at his mouth. “Depends. How far are you willing to go?”
I popped open his collar button, then another, and another, unveiling warm skin and hard planes with deliberate slowness. “As far as you’ll take me.” My voice was reckless, but that was me. I’d always had a taste for danger. And Alistair Scott was pure danger.
“Good girl.” His tone dropped, intimate and commanding. “I remember your safe word. Trust.”
He tugged loose his bowtie, let it hang like a promise at his throat, and slid the zipper of his trousers down inch by inch.
“And yours is Fire.” I knelt before him and pulled down his cotton boxers to reveal a long and thick cock. Oh, it was magnificent.
“Good girl, you remember.” He smiled as I massaged his smooth shaft and inhaled his heady scent. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” Alistair untied my halterneck, letting the fabric fall to expose my bare breasts.
“I’m starving for you.” I licked my lips, wanting to taste him.
“You’re ripe for the picking,” he declared, pinching each of my nipples.
“I’m home,” I mouthed, cupping and stroking his balls, drawing out a groan that vibrated through his chest. My tongue flicked over his cock’s salty tip, savoring a droplet of precum. I closed my lips around his length, swallowing him into the heat of my mouth.
“That’s it, you’re my little pet,” Alistair teased, stroking my thigh with his leather crop as I knelt on all fours on the plush bedroom carpet.
The room was dark until he lit the scented candles, spicing the air with citrus and cedarwood.
It was still dim enough to hide my small, faint abdominal scars in the shadows.
“Let me oil you up first,” Alistair murmured, massaging my backside and ass cheeks with warm lavender oil. His fingers lathered my clit and tickled it before working toward my anal hole and lubricating it with a dose of the oil.
“Relax,” he coaxed, inserting a small plug up my ass. I gasped at the stimulating sensation. “Ooh, that feels so good,” I whimpered.
“I want you to give me your body. I want to have total control of it,” Alistair demanded, placing a Spartacus collar around my neck. The collar was attached to a leash, which he held tightly, restraining my throat possessively. “Do you trust me with your body, Vera?”
“I do.”
Whack. The sharp pain of the crop whipped against my ass cheek. “Oww,” I yelped.
“I’ll give you the best fuck of your life. You’ll never want anyone else by the time I’m done with you. Am I clear?”
I nodded, feeling the sting of his steady whipping on my buttocks and back. “Spare the rod and spoil the child, they say,” Alistair drawled, lashing my raw behind. “You’ve been naughty, Vera. How many lovers have you had this year?”
“None,” I confessed.
“Are you telling the truth? Hmm?”
“Yes, I’m telling the truth,” I cried out, feeling the whip lash my bare buttocks again.
“I find it hard to believe a gorgeous, insatiable huntress like you has gone months without a cock in her bed,” he drawled, eyes glinting with amusement.
Whack. The last stroke welted a sharp soreness, harder than the others, across the back of my thighs. This one was going to leave a mark that would last for days.
“Trust,” I shouted.
I couldn’t take any more. Not tonight. I carried a heavy, dark cloud of mental agony that blocked my ability to enjoy sex.
I had to tell Alistair the truth about the terrible thing that happened during our months apart.
I heard the gentle thud of the crop fall on the floor as he undid my collar.
He slowly removed the plug from my anus and offered one hand to lift me from the floor.
“Get up,” he commanded, and I obeyed. The game was over when he wrapped his arms around me. We were both naked and alone, hugging each other in silence. Our worries were unspoken, but the comfort we gave each other was enough.
His large hands raked through my messy hair as he kissed my forehead with gentle passion.
I nestled my head against his shoulder while his arms engulfed my body in blissful silence.
My fingers curled and touched the soft hairs on his chest, then felt the contours of every muscle that made him a man.
His scent was addictive and intoxicating, pulling arousal through me.
“You smell so good, Scotty,” I whispered as a loose tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Why the tears? Did I hurt you?”
“I have something to show you,” I said, pulling away from him.
I switched on the light and dimmed it, softening the glare. My pulse thudded as I turned to face Alistair, ready to unveil what I kept hidden. My hand pressed against my abdomen. “You need to hear the truth about the night I called you.”
His eyes widened, the sharp green flaring with shock as they dropped to the scar.