Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
The scent of coffee helped Chelsea swim through the layers of sleep, back to the first edges of consciousness.
Disoriented, she blinked. When her eyes focused, she saw Master Alexander sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her with a warm smile and holding two cups.
She’d stayed with him the entire night, though she hadn’t been anticipating that.
“Morning.”
“Hi.” Struggling to find her equilibrium, she propped herself on her elbows and acted as if everything were normal when it was anything but. “Are both of those for me?”
“They could be. But I was hoping you’d share.”
“If I’m feeling generous.” She scooted to a sitting position, dragging the sheet with her, and rested her shoulders against the headboard. After accepting a cup, she inhaled deeply. “Thank you.” The first sip—all creamy and tasting of sweet vanilla—was heaven. “Perfect, Sir. If you spoil me like this, I might never leave.”
“What makes you think I was hoping you would?”
Oh Jesus. Her heart stopped. He couldn’t have said that. Couldn’t have meant it.
Their gazes locked.
“Sir…” She looked away first. She had a goal. And she needed to focus on it.
As if he’d been kidding—and maybe he had—Master Alexander cleared his throat and went on. “I’d like to leave for the Den by five o’clock,” he said. “Do you mind meeting here since I’m closer?”
“That’s a good idea. Uhm…” Then, desperate to restore some normalcy between them, she peered at him over the rim of the cup. “I know I mentioned it last night, but the mountains are a perfect place for a photo shoot.”
“As I’ve told you, I have a PR company.” Finality rang from his statement.
So this really did mean that their time together was almost over. “Is there any way to convince you to reconsider?”
He stood. “Would you like to shower here?”
His abruptness sent her emotions reeling. Suddenly uncomfortable, she brought her drink closer to her mouth. “That’s a nice offer. But I’ve got a lot to get done, so I think I’ll get going.”
“Understood.”
In less than five minutes, her beverage almost untouched, she was dressed, with her purse slung over her shoulder.
He walked her to her car then paused once she was behind the steering wheel.
Neither of them spoke, and his eyebrows were knitted into a serious line, as if he had something to say.
Words failed her.
And she was afraid that if she said goodbye, she might cry.
“Five o’clock.”
“Yes, Sir.” She gave him a brave nod.
After closing the door, he rapped on the hood and walked away.
Concentrating on what she was doing, she pulled onto the road and didn’t relax her shoulders until she stopped at a traffic signal. What happened back there?
Was the distance between them because she’d asked again about the photo shoot?
Or something else?
For a moment, when he’d suggested that he didn’t want her to leave, she’d wanted to believe he was serious, and immediately she’d dismissed the idea. After all, he’d changed the subject right away.
Being in her apartment didn’t settle her, nor did the hour-long soak in the bathtub.
Weeks ago, when she’d approached Master Alexander, she’d been so confident, and her plan had all seemed so easy. He’d train her. She’d land Master Evan C as a client and Dom. Another success in her business and her life.
Yet here she was, having fallen for her trainer. They’d scened for the last time, made love for the final time.
And the rest of the day loomed in front of her—long and lonely.
Determinedly, she dressed, cranked up some music, tossed a load of laundry in the washing machine, and tidied the already-neat surroundings.
All that done, she settled behind her computer. There was always some business-related task to handle. Today she thanked goodness for that fact.
She checked her emails and she was delighted to find one from Master Evan C. Finally. He said he was interested in talking to her more about her proposal, and said he’d be at the Den this evening, and maybe they could connect there.
She pumped her fist in the air and swiveled her chair in circles.
But when silence echoed back mockingly, she frowned. The small victory rang hollow with no one to share it with.
There was another message from her admin. Jennifer suggested that, since Monahan Capital hadn’t responded to their proposal, perhaps they should consider contacting his brother.
Chelsea tapped her fingers on the desktop.
No doubt Master Alexander wouldn’t approve of that tactic.
Master Alexander?
She stopped herself.
He was no longer her trainer, so the honorific no longer applied.
And that also meant she could pursue Monahan Capital’s business like she did with any other company.
Still, going behind his back—and no doubt he’d see it that way—was risky. She might not take a chance, except for the fact You’re The Star could generate his firm some amazing publicity. Even if he didn’t want it, he deserved it.
What the hell.
She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
After telling Jennifer to go for it, Chelsea changed into her swimsuit. Luckily there were no teenage boys at the pool, and she had the area all to herself.
Despite the fact she wanted to think about business, random images of Master Alexander flashed through her mind in a rapid-fire slideshow. She pictured him in jeans. Wearing slacks. Naked. Setting his jaw and dragging her over his lap. Showing her a flogger. Affixing her to the cross. Doubling over his belt.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. And the truth smacked her. The reason she’d hesitated before letting Jennifer run with her idea was that she didn’t want the relationship with Master Alexander to completely end.
Where does that leave me?
Anxiety churning in her anew, she opened her eyes and sat up. She needed action so that she could drown out the clamor in her head.
Once she was back in her apartment, she showered, then put some gel in her hair and squeezed the locks with her fingers. But now that it was time to get ready, courage deserted her.
The idea of stripping to play with Master Evan C—having her dreams come true—should have made her giddy with anticipation, but it didn’t.
Instead, she felt hollow inside.
Still, her course was set, and she was due at Master Alexander’s house soon.
She dressed in a lacy black bra with a matching thong. She added a skirt, a tight-fitting top, and a pair of ridiculously high heels.
She swiped on some mascara and applied a layer of foundation before grabbing her purse and heading for her car.
At his house, she knocked as was her custom, but he shocked her by opening the door rather than waiting for her to let herself in. The sight of him made her mouth water.
As she’d suggested—hoped for—he wore leather pants and a tight T-shirt that he’d tucked into his waistband. His hair was raked back from his square forehead, emphasizing his piercing green eyes. He hadn’t shaved, and that left an intentional scruffy look that made him look even more masculine. Her knees weakened.
“Shall we?” he asked.
The earth shifted beneath her stilettos. She was slightly early, but he hadn’t invited her in.
The difference from last night to today was almost too much to take, even though she should have expected it.
He placed his fingers lightly at the small of her back as he led her outside to his waiting vehicle.
“You look nice,” he told her as if they were going out to a simple get-together, as if this were just two friends hanging out. Except for the leather pants. The leather pants said this wasn’t an ordinary date.
Until they’d passed through the town of Winter Park, the conversation was mainly idle chitchat.
“About tonight?”
She turned slightly to look at him. “Yes?” Since it had become so natural, not calling him Sir required fierce concentration.
“Does Evan C know you’re coming?”
“He does. I’ve been in contact with him with a few business proposals.”
“Is your approach simply to wear people down?”
“Sometimes it works.” She shrugged. “But it’s an indicator of how much I personally believe in a business. I mean, I don’t send one to every company in the entire metro Denver area.”
Alexander didn’t respond.
“And I’m taking a huge risk. I put tremendous resources into my proposals. I know companies have taken them to their existing PR firms to execute.”
Momentarily he took his gaze off the road to glance at her. “Does that bother you?”
“It’s a risk of my approach, isn’t it?” She grinned. “But no one can deliver on those ideas like I do because they were mine, and I see how they fit into a bigger plan. They’re a cog.”
“Whereas you’re the wheel.”
“Exactly.” Sir. “Back to your question about Evan C. He said he’s looking forward to talking with me.”
“I also assume you want to play with him.”
Was he gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual? “If it works out that way.” The words seemed to catch in her throat.
“I’ll give you the privacy you need.”
Did that also mean he was going to play with some submissives? The idea made her grit her teeth, even though she told herself her possessive feelings were ridiculous. Until this moment, she’d never experienced jealousy, but there it was, raw and awful.
All too soon, they arrived at the Den.
Opting to leave her purse behind, she exhaled, then pasted on a smile at the valet who opened the door for her.
Then Master Alexander met her in front of the hood and offered his elbow as she negotiated the uneven terrain. Spiky heels and the Rockies were not a good mix.
The sun was making its trek toward the Western horizon, and the summer air was as wonderful as could be.
Once they were inside, he said, “I’m with you, but not as a trainer. Stay as close as you wish, or not.”
What would it be like to be here as his submissive? “I appreciate that.”
Master Damien greeted them personally and asked Chelsea if she recalled the Den’s safe word.
“Halt, Sir.”
He nodded. “Enjoy your time with us, Ms. Barton.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Much better behaved than last time,” he observed to Master Alexander.
She didn’t wince, and that alone showed her how far she’d come from her previous visit.
“Shall we go downstairs?” Alexander offered when Master Damien excused himself.
Am I ready for this? “Yes. I could use something to drink.”
“Alcohol and sceneing don’t mix.”
“I know.” Even if she could use a drink. “A soda will do.”
She followed him down the stairs, and while he fetched them each a drink, she kept a lookout for Master Evan C.
She saw him in the corner, chatting with a sub who was wearing a purple wristband, indicating she’d been hired by the Den.
He looked so different from any other Top here. Most were in black. He wore white. A bright red scarf was wrapped around his neck. He belonged on stage, rather than at a BDSM party.
Master Alexander returned with her sugary soda and a water for himself.
“You’ll do fine,” he told her, raising his bottle in a salute to her. “You’ve learned a lot. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I’m nervous as hell, Sir.” Here, all the usual BDSM honorifics seemed not just natural, but appropriate.
“Why?”
She sipped through her straw. “Probably just the idea of playing with someone new.” Or the fact I don’t want to leave your side.
“It’s a good experience. Concentrate on pleasing your Dom. No matter who he is.”
When Master Evan C’s submissive left, Chelsea squared her shoulders.
Master Alexander regarded her but said nothing.
On impulse she kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
“Remember I’m here. Standing by.”
She moved away, placed her drink on a tray, then looked over her shoulder to make sure he meant it.
When she approached, Master Evan C frowned a bit, evidently having no idea who she was or forgetting they’d agreed to meet. “Chelsea Barton,” she said, offering her hand.
“The PR chick. You mentioned you got some training?”
“I did.”
“Your manners suck.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You don’t know how to address a Dom?”
That stung. “Of course, I do, Sir.”
“You want to go to a private room?”
This was the moment she’d been waiting for. So why wasn’t she excited? “That would be fine. I’d also like to discuss my PR’s proposal.”
“Yeah. Later. Down the hall.”
Bristling at his reaction, she nonetheless followed him.
Once more, she looked around for Master Alexander. He was there, waiting, watching. Though she was grateful for his support, guilt stabbed her as she continued on.
“You with me or with him?” Master Evan C asked.
“With you, Sir. Of course.” She followed Master Evan C down the hallway. The walk reminded her of the first night with Master Alexander. The same set of nerves that had assailed her then gnawed her stomach now.
“Get your clothes off and get your ass on the cross.”
“Uhm…are we going to talk about a safe word?”
“You one of them pussy girls? I thought you wanted to do business with me.”
She looked at him. His eyes were wide, unblinking, calculating.
“I’m not into being abused, Sir, not for anything or anyone.”
“Heard talk about you last time, that you scream so much you need a gag.”
She shuddered.
“Get your clothes off, bitch.”
Chelsea debated what to do. Master Alexander had never spoken to her with this tone or inflection. Evan C was insulting. Before she could speak again, he grabbed her shirt, tugged it over her head and brutally squeezed her right breast.
The sudden assault of pain left her scarcely able to breathe. She grabbed him around the wrist. “Sir, that fucking hurts.”
“What? Your tit’s delicate?” He laughed.
“Please.” She dug her fingernails into his skin. Then she called on all of the training, reminders, prompting that Master Alexander had given her. “Halt.”
“The actual fuck, bitch? I thought you’d been getting some training.”
“Yeah. I have.” He still hadn’t released her, and it was pissing her off. “Enough to know that I don’t want a Dom like you. Let go of me.”
“You’ve been fucking stalking me, begging for this.”
She shook her head. “You’re mistaken. I think you have talent. But that doesn’t mean I’ll put up with your brutality to get a contract. Fuck that.” The more he hurt her, the deeper she dug in her fingernails. “Last warning. Halt.”
“Cock tease.”
She refused to allow his words to goad her. What Master Alexander had said all along was true. Submission was a gift you gave, not something that could be demanded. There was a big difference between submission and a little kink, and an even greater distinction between submission and masochism. Master Evan C was more a sadist than anything, she assumed. And she had no interest in that.
When he didn’t let her go, another realization blindsided her. She’d allowed her career hunger to drive feelings in her personal life. You’re The Star would benefit from having Evan C on their client list. She’d fallen in love with the idea of a partnership with him. Her ambition had blinded her. “Take your goddamn hand off me before I scream the place down.”
Instantly he released her. The pain of the blood rushing back into her breast stole her next breath. Fueled by gritty determination, she snatched up her shirt and pulled it over her head before meeting his eyes. “You have some natural talent. You’ll do well if you don’t allow your reckless behavior to fuck it up.”
“You giving me career advice?”
“Someone needs to. I’ll send a bill.”
“You’re a tough chick.” He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck then strode away.
She exhaled and pressed her hands to her face, pretending her world hadn’t shattered in the last sixty minutes. Everything she’d thought she wanted, hungered for, focused on, no longer mattered.
After she’d stopped shaking, she squared her shoulders and walked back toward the main dungeon.
As she neared Master Alexander, she overheard Master Evan C say, “You did a shitty job of training her.”
She kept her head high, as if she were wearing a posture collar. She’d done nothing wrong, and she wasn’t in the least ashamed.
“If she refused to scene with you, I’d say I did an excellent job.”
Chelsea almost cheered. My hero.
“And I’ll tell you this, little prick, be grateful you didn’t harm her, because I would have fucking killed you.”
In shock, she blinked up at Master Alexander.
Flipping his scarf, Evan C walked, or rather stalked, toward the bar and Brandy.
Master Alexander draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “What the hell happened?”
“I figured out I want nothing to do with him.” She smiled. “If it’s all right with you, Sir, I would like to go home.”
He nodded. Purposefully, he moved her toward the stairs, thanked Master Damien for his hospitality, then headed outside, where he turned over his claim check to the valet.
She shook her head. To think that at one time she’d thought Master Alexander was a tough Dominant. He treated her more like a princess than a submissive. She wished every man behaved so courteously.
When the vehicle arrived, he helped her inside then reached across her to fasten her safety belt before closing her inside.
As he pulled away, she stared at the darkened landscape, saying nothing.
After the last few weeks, how did she go back to her regular life?
She needed time alone. Lots of it.
Master Alexander waited until they had summited Berthoud Pass before looking at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing really to say. He has a different opinion of submission than I do.” She looked over at the man who had taught her so much. Since the moon was hidden by clouds, his face was in shadows. That didn’t matter, though. She knew every plane and angle intimately.
“Are you hurt?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Not at all.” In fact, she had more strength and courage than she’d ever had—gifts she’d received from her two-week journey into submission. “I’ve never been better, Sir.”
He took his gaze from the road long enough to cast a quick glance in her direction. “Seriously?”
“I owe you a lot, Sir. I wouldn’t have handled Master Evan C as well as I did without everything I’ve learned from you. I used the club safe word. He didn’t immediately honor it, so I told him I’d scream the fucking place down. And I would have done it.” She touched his thigh. “Thank you.”
“I’ve never been prouder of you.” For a moment, he closed his hand around hers.
When he pulled it away, she put on her brave face and pretended her heart wasn’t breaking. Facing down Evan C had been easy for one reason.
She was in love with Master Alexander.
The truth destroyed her.