Chapter 22 #2
“Or what?” I challenge, mentally daring him to try to dominate me now.
“Or you get that spanking you have coming before I strip the rest of your clothes off and fuck you against the goddamn window.”
Well. Challenge accepted, apparently.
I remove the rest of my clothes except for my underwear and toss them in a pile behind me. I fold my arms across my chest.
I stand, squaring off against him.
He stands in nothing but a pair of very nice, well-fitting boxers.
My chest heaves.
He looks cool as a cucumber.
I feel disheveled and hot, my hair all askew and wild.
He’s devilishly handsome.
So handsome.
Ugh.
“You have your money, Nicolette.”
Why does he have to remind me about that? Why now? What have I done to make him throw that in my face?
“I’m aware.”
“Then I want it abundantly clear. I’ve done my part. And you, as a woman who honors your word, will do yours.”
What the hell is that all about?
“Of course?” I say with a question in my voice, because what the hell is he talking about?
When he walks toward me, I can’t control the full-body shiver that comes over me.
He reaches behind me toward the little table next to his sofa. I don’t look, because I don’t want him to think I’m nosy.
I am curious as fuck.
When he comes back over to me, he has a silky tie wrapped around his fist. No, not one tie. Several.
“You promised to be mine.”
“I did,” I agree. What is going on?
“So you will fucking do what I say.”
Ah, so that’s where he’s going with this.
I nod.
“Sounds good,” I say, hardening my heart against whatever he’s planning on doing. “For old time’s sake.”
He snaps his fingers.
“Kneel.”
Of all the—
I drop to the floor on my knees. Just like he taught me. Just like he wants me to. I swallow against a strange, sudden rush of emotion that takes me unawares.
Fabien, why do you have to be so perfect and so wrong for me?
“Open your mouth, Nicolette.”
My name, the way he says my name…
I obey. I begin to tremble when he ties the silk tie around my mouth as a makeshift gag.
“Hands behind your back.”
Something tells me this is not a good idea, but… I told him I’d do what he said.
I put my hands behind my back.
“There we go. Now you can’t talk while I do,” he says, sounding quite pleased with himself as he ties my wrists together.
Oh, no, he did not.
I can’t move. I can’t speak.
I am completely at his command.
“I’m not going to deny that I was looking into your background,” he says as he walks around me, surveying his handiwork. “I did. I looked into who you were. Your history. I wanted to know why you were here, and I wanted to know what you were like.”
Why? I mentally ask myself. I can’t ask him, because the overbearing ogre has me gagged.
“You may wonder why.”
Mind reading is a pretty impressive gift.
“Mmm?” I say, pleased I convey my anger in a muffled syllable.
Fabien stands in front of me. With one finger under my chin, he lifts my eyes to his. I have to crane my neck to see him. “I saw you on our security footage. And from the very first second I saw you, I wanted you. I knew you were mine. That you belonged to me.”
I should hate this. I should at the very least be mentally fighting this, but inside, I feel my resistance fading away.
Fabien.
“So I made a choice.” Holding my chin in his fingers, he makes me look at him.
I can’t look away.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Fabien.
“I decided I would win you over,” he says quietly.
“I knew that you were a strong woman. I knew you were here for a reason. And I hoped that if I took away your reason for being here, you wouldn’t need to work anymore.
I hoped that in our time together, I’d manage to convince you that at the very least, you were safe with me. ”
He bends down and lifts me by the elbows, so I rise to my feet. With my hands still restrained behind my back, I can only stand, but I wobble. He easily rights me, then bends and lifts me in his arms as he stands.
There are so many things I want to say. It’s frustrating being muted like this.
I want to tell him it was wrong. I want to tell him that here, in the real world, where people don’t have superhero status that makes them rich and powerful and unencumbered by things like the law, we don’t spy on people.
We respect privacy. We don’t try to manipulate the situation for our own purposes.
I can’t say anything, though, and it seems he’s done for now, because he says nothing in return.
We walk to his bedroom, me all tangled and restrained in his arms, him with a look of grim determination that doesn’t seem to bode well for me.
My pulse races as he drops me on the bed and walks away.
I crane my neck to see him, but he’s walking around his room doing something.
I hear the tug of shades as he pulls them.
The light dims. There’s an unmistakable sound of a match being struck, then a flicker of flame.
I feel him before I see him. Strong hands securing me with even more restraints—soft, silky, but tenacious bonds around my waist, my legs, my breasts. I lay on my side staring up at him, trying to silently convey “what the fuck are you doing?” but if he’s aware of my vibes, he ignores them.
I decided I would win you over.
“When you submit to me like this, you can lean into it,” he says, which confuses me at first because I’m on the bed and not leaning on anything.
I realize with a bit of a shock that I’m resisting this with everything I have.
Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. I don’t want him to have any control over me.
I’m trying to just grin and bear it so I can leave, but as he continues slowly wrapping me, my mental resistance begins to ebb.
My only choices are to strain against them—which isn’t too comfortable—or relax into them.
I decide to relax into them.
Though I can’t talk, I can freely breathe. I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You’ll listen to me now, Nicolette. I’m sure we would have been able to eventually have a reasonable conversation with you unbound, but if after this is all over you decide to leave, I want to remember you like this.”
He pauses long enough to stroke his thumb along one silky binding. I remember the first night we met, how he brushed his thumb over my cheek. “My precious gift.”
My throat tightens. Tears well in my eyes. It’s beginning to become harder to remember why I’m angry.
“You expected things to progress with me the way a normal relationship would.” With a casual shrug, he finishes one last tie. “Dinner and a movie. Small talk. Maybe casual, mediocre sex. Or maybe you thought this would be more like a regular night with a client. Sex without emotion. Just a job.”
Just a job.
How many times have I thought that?
“But things would never be normal between us,” he says with conviction before he bends to brush his lips over my cheek. “There’s nothing normal about you. You are a rarity. Worth more to me than anything in the world.”
How many times did he fight to choose me over something or someone else? I watched him fight in his battle to bring his brother home when my own safety was at stake.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he says softly, running both hands down the length of my bound arms. “You don’t know why you’re so special. You don’t understand. But if you give me time and another chance, I’ll show you.”
He’s right. I don’t understand, not at all, and I’m tempted—oh, so very tempted—to give him this chance.