Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Savannah
Oh, I talk a good talk alright. It’s the only way I can gain any control over a situation which threatens to unravel at any moment.
But it doesn’t mean my heart isn’t threatening to leap out of my chest. It doesn’t mean I’m not wildly curious about where he’s taking me or how exactly he just happens to have a blindfold and some kind of rope in his pocket.
He planned this.
Yeah, he mentioned something about me being blindfolded so I wouldn’t see where I was going, but I suspect he has a dual purpose. I mean, he’s basically said as much. Is he really just trying to make sure I don’t know my whereabouts?
I really don’t have the first clue about where we’re going.
My older sister and I need to have a nice long talk.
As soon as the silky blindfold darkens my vision, my other senses come alive.
I can feel the warm, hard wall of his chest against my back. I’m enveloped in the utterly masculine scent of whatever the hell he’s wearing that says Male. Sex. Power.
Gah! I try to speak but find my mouth’s too dry. When I lick my lips, I hear him stifle a groan.
I wonder why.
I can hear the low hum of the engine. I imagine I hear the drumming beat of my heart. A whisper of a shiver runs between my shoulder blades when his mouth brushes my ear.
“We’re almost there. Listen, and do not speak. Nod if you understand.”
God, the arrogance of this son of a bitch. “What’s there not to understand?” I snap.
Strong fingers at my neck flex. I gasp. He wouldn’t—choke me—would he?
He bites my ear. I gasp and writhe, but he holds me fast.
“No more attitude. No more talking back. I don’t know what you think’s so funny about this, but you are two breaths away from having your ass whipped over my knee, no matter where we are, no matter who sees. Do you understand that?”
I nod and open my mouth to speak again, when he continues.
“This is not a joke. You’re in serious danger.
I’m bringing you into an exclusive club where people go who will not think twice about me dragging you in there cuffed, blindfolded, gagged, and trussed up for my use.
Where not a single soul will even blink if I take my belt to your ass and punish you for disobedience.
Where everyone, and I mean literally everyone, will step aside to give me a wide berth the second they see who I am.
Where my word is law and my command absolute. Is that clear, Savannah?”
Ho-ly. Shit!
I nod.
Where the hell is he taking me?
And more importantly… who the hell is he?
“You’ll walk beside me. You’ll stay silent except to answer my questions if I speak to you. I’ll bring you to my private suite and then you can have more freedom, but until then, you are nothing more than my property.”
His. Property.
I should be appalled.
I’m actually a little appalled that I’m not appalled.
I’m more curious than anything.
I’d like to see him keep his hands off me under these circumstances. Ha!
Nicolette would only shake her head.
Nicolette.
Surely Fabien and Nicolette know where we’re going.
Why have they never mentioned anything to me before?
Do they all think I’m a child or something?
I’m in grad school, for crying out loud.
I’ve moved to another continent and learned the language, earned a massive scholarship for grad school, and have even, though Nicolette doesn’t know this yet, written three mystery thrillers.
Okay, so they’re not published yet, but I’m getting there.
I want to know I’m able to do it on my own, without the help of Fabien and Nicolette.
It sounds like Thayer’s either talking on the phone or giving instructions to someone, I can’t quite tell which. But I tell my overactive imagination to take a breather and start paying attention either way.
We’ve stopped moving, that much I can tell. Voices, speaking in rapid French at a bit of a distance, move past us and come back. God, I wish I could see. What do they look like when they see Thayer?
My word is law and my command absolute.
What does that mean? And why does it make my body come alive?
“Savannah.” Again, he says my name. Again, when he does, I wish he’d say it again.
I shouldn’t care about him any more now that I know what an asshole he can be. It was a lot easier to be hot for him and fuel my schoolgirl fantasies when I didn’t know that he was sarcastic and rude and bossy.
I also didn’t know how well he kissed, either.
Or how hard his body was.
Or how good he smelled.
Gah!
I try to will myself to remember he can be callous and impolite. But a part of me wonders if it isn’t just an act. Why would he kiss me if he isn’t attracted to me? Would a guy like him go out of his way to protect me on mere principle?
The more I try to resist him, the more I find myself longing for more.
I want to see what it’s like to be with a man whose “word is law and command absolute.”
He’s already blindfolded and tied me up and threatened to spank me. He laughed at my reference to kink. And what the hell kind of a place is frequented by people who don’t care about things like… potential servitude?
“We’re here. From now on, you’ll pretend that you’re mine, Savannah.”
Why does my throat ache at that?
I’m afraid to ask the question but can’t help it.
“Your… what?”
He releases a harsh breath. “My slave.”
What?
The flare of alarm quickly fades when he brushes his lips across the naked skin at my collarbone.
I close my eyes behind the blindfold and brace against the sudden rush of heat and warmth and need. I want to be beneath him. I want to feel him slide into me. I want to feel his naked skin against mine. I want him to break me, then put me back together again, bit by bit.
Wait. Maybe sometimes I let my writer’s imagination get the best of me.
Surely, he didn’t say slave.
As in… like, captive. Bond servant. Serf. Servant?
Property?
I must have misheard him.
“Ha! So I thought you said slave,” I snort.
“I did.”
I open my mouth to say something else, when I hear him mutter, “Goddamn, I can’t believe I didn’t bring a gag.”
Holy hell, this guy has cast-iron rocks.
“I’m going to open that door. The second I do, you’re my slave.
We’ll talk about what that means later, but for now it means you’re in complete and utter submission to me.
Your one and only job is to listen and obey.
Yeah, you can give me that mouthy master bullshit speech later, which I’m sure you’re just dying to do.
For now, you do what I tell you without question, and you’ll make it to my bedroom without earning yourself a punishment session. ”
My cheeks heat, but I have no time to process this when I hear the unmistakable sound of a door opening. I swallow hard when hushed voices welcome him in French.
Who knew the beautiful language could make even slavery sound classy?
Thayer doesn’t bother with formalities or politeness, but issues commands in a harsh, authoritative voice. Though they speak in French, I understand them easily.
“Is my room ready?”
“Yes, sir, of course, sir.”
“Thank you. Do we have any new arrivals?”
“No, sir. We have closed our doors to new visitors since we received your call and sent notifications that we will not be receiving new guests until further notice.”
He’s practically holding me beside him as we walk at a brisk pace. I shiver when a cold gust of wind tickles my neck. Without a word, he tucks me closer to him, so I’m pressed against the warmth of his body while he continues the interrogation and quick pace.
“Very good. Have all security staff been called?”
“Yes, sir.”
It’s late at night, the wee hours of the morning, I’m guessing, yet his staff members are ready to listen and obey.
Interesting.
I hear the unmistakable sound of a door opening and closing.
Hushed voices. The rush of falling water.
My heels click on the smooth, slippery floor—marble?
—before quickly muting when my feet sink into plush carpet.
Classical music plays on speakers seemingly all around us, beautiful but achingly sad.
The scent of mint and lavender permeates the air around us, as if we’re in a luxury spa.
“Ah, Thayer. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Didn’t know I’d be back.” The tone of his voice gives me the impression he isn’t super cool about talking to this person.
“And who might your guest be? Did you bring a toy to share for once?”
“Touch her,” Thayer says in a pleasant voice laced with ice, “and I’ll break your hand.”
My pulse spikes.
“Ooh, violence,” the nameless voice responds. “Rumor has it you can be violent when the situation warrants it, but I didn’t know you’d be so easily provoked.” The dark chuckle sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine. I imagine the person he’s talking to dressed in a snake’s skin.
“I will not be sharing,” Thayer snaps, implying the utter and instant death of whoever might question him otherwise.
“Understood. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
The chuckle continues.
The retreating footsteps assure me whoever’s expressed an interest in me has gone.
Thayer curses and walks us a few more paces forward.
“And this is why,” Thayer says in a low voice to me, “we should’ve hired another manager.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve received my messages?” Thayer asks someone. No answer to my question, then.
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
“Perfect.”
We turn to leave and begin walking at a rapid pace, and I get the distinct impression he wants to get me out of here as fast as he can, but he still has business to tend to.
“And sir?”
Thayer doesn’t slow his pace at all. “Yes?”
“We’ve prepared everything you asked us to for your ten o’clock meeting tomorrow.”
We come to such a sudden, screeching halt, I would have stumbled if he didn’t brace me against him with an arm around my waist.
“Excuse me?”
That tone of his voice sends another shiver down my spine. I imagine whoever he’s talking to has backed up against a wall.
“Your guests, sir?”
Thayer’s still beside me. “I didn’t invite any guests. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He curses under his breath.
“We received a message this morning, requesting the security and privacy of room two. We’ve temporarily asked all willing servants to relocate to the playroom.”
My. Head. Is. Spinning.
Willing servants?
The playroom?
“Is that right?” Thayer asks in a low voice. “One minute, please.”
He shifts, and I hear the gentle rustle of clothes. I imagine he’s looking for his phone. It’s strange standing here in the dark like this.
“Let me look into this,” he finally says. “Thank you for updating me. I’m sorry there’s been a change of plans, but I appreciate your attention to this matter. It must’ve slipped my mind.”
I don’t believe him. He’s lying. Thayer is too much of a perfectionist to forget something like this.
They continue their conversation and finally, he says goodbye.
We walk past a room with muffled voices. Another where a warm rush of air, scented like warmed vanilla, kisses my skin before we move past. It seems we’re walking down a hall of sorts.
We come to a stop. I hear a beep as he pushes what must be an elevator button, and seconds later, the rush of opening doors.
“Thayer!”
A woman’s voice makes him stop. I feel him turning around. His grip on me slackens.
“Camille.” I wish I could see his face. His tone is hard to read.
“How are you?” she asks.
Camille… oh my God, if that’s the model Camille…
I can’t be jealous. I shouldn’t be jealous. I need to shut off the part of my brain that’s justifying my jealousy.
Instead of answering, he asks her an odd question. “Why are you out here unescorted? Didn’t they read you the rules?”
“I’m alone,” she says in a breathy whisper.
Oh, ew. Are we playing that game?
“Unescorted.”
“Really.”
“I know,” she says, in a tone that would melt butter, “it’s hard for you to believe that I don’t have an escort, isn’t it? But some of us like being free,” she continues. “And who’s your blindfolded guest? She looks… lovely.”
The tone of her voice says she does not think I look lovely at all. I suddenly remember my tousled hair, the torn and rumpled clothing that’s been through hell and back.
“She’s exactly what you said. My guest.”
“Ah, no name?”
I half expect him to say my name is Slave X or something.
“If you’ll excuse us, we’ve had a long day and are looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh, of course. Don’t let me be rude and hold you up.” Even blindfolded—maybe especially blindfolded—I note the biting edge to her tone. “Enjoy your evening, both of you. Au revoir!”
Her heels click on the floor as she leaves.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters under his breath. “I am going to kill him. Seriously, kill him.”
Who? What?
I could write a book with the number of questions I have right about now.
I press my lips together and gesture to my lips.
The air’s heavy with foreboding as he draws closer to me.
“Yes,” he snaps. “Still not talking. Go ahead, love. Try me.” My insides clench even as my heart thunders. Dread washes through me when I realize he’s looking for a reason to punish me.
Oh, well then. Apparently, he’s looking for a reason to punish me.
Why do I like it when he calls me love? He doesn’t mean it. I’m confident he’s only being sarcastic.
Not sure how I feel about the threat. To say I have mixed feelings would be an understatement.
He leads me forward, and when I hear the sliding doors of an elevator again, I imagine we’ve made it inside. We begin going upward.
I have so many questions, and I’m not quite sure it’s right that he thinks he can punish me… but he’s also the one with the major advantage here.
In other words, I’m not gonna rock this boat.
Yet, anyway.
If Thayer Gerard thinks he can boss me around without consequence, then do I ever have a surprise for him.
This girl is no pushover. And while being overpowered and dominated by him—and yes, maybe even punished—might appeal to me on some base, primal level, I won’t forget who I am. What I’ve been through.
What I want.
And I will not just roll over and beg like a well-trained dog.
I don’t care how hot he is. I don’t care that he’s rich, and that deep down inside, a part of me craves his protection. I’ve been alone for a very long time, and even though I like having control over my own life… it gets lonely.
So I don’t care who he is or what he does. This whole slave thing might be a part of the disguise I’ll use to save my life… but that’s all this is. A cloak to hide me. Trickery. Playacting.
No one is safe from a man like Thayer. Especially me.
“I’m putting you in a suite,” he says.
That sounds promising.
I want to ask if I’ll be alone or if he’ll join me, but I don’t want to sound too eager. And honestly, I’m not even sure I want him to be with me.
I might want him in the moment—just like I might stress-eat a box of chocolates all by myself—but will it be worth it in the morning?
Will I have to lose too much of myself to really stay safe?
Is safety only an illusion?