“You’ve done well. Tell me what I need to do.”

“You need to get over here right away and sign some papers, then get the money in order. I’m sure Trent will hear about this soon, so you need to get over here like five minutes ago.”

“I’m on my way.” The day had barely even started, and I’d already made two

conquests. It was going to be a good day.

20

EMILY

I drove to the hotel lazily, a smile fixed on my face that I just couldn’t

get rid of. Even when the traffic was terrible, I kept smiling as memories played in my head. Mr. Dark wanted me for two more weeks, in a private place, twenty-four hours a day.

That sounded like heaven on earth to me, and I would make sure Trent understood when I saw him that I wasn’t to be disturbed, for anything other than a true emergency during that time. I parked and headed into the hotel and up to the offices. I waved at the secretary who waved back as I knocked on the door to the main office.

“I’m here, Trent,” I said as I entered and sat on the couch. I felt more confident than I ever had before as I stared at my brother. He was on the phone and hadn’t even acknowledged I was there yet.

I waited, impatiently, and didn’t make myself stop when my foot began to tap. Always so fucking important, always so dismissive, my brothers could be real assholes sometimes. My smile turned to a glare, and I watched him. He left me sitting there for fifteen minutes, well after the time we’d agreed on for our appointment.

“Fucking Dylan James. Patricidal bastard. He should be in jail, not trying to buy hotels out from under me.” I looked up as Trent banged his fist on the desk.

“Pardon?” I blinked and sat up straighter. What was he on about now?

“Dylan James. An asshole from out west who wants to corner the market on

the east coast. I won’t let him in, but he might have gotten around me this time.

Dammit. And to think, he should really be sitting in a jail cell for murdering his parents. Fuck!” Trent banged his fist on the table again, and I glared at him.

“If you’re going to keep doing that, I’m going to leave.” I wouldn’t have said that to him two weeks ago. Now, I knew I could. And I didn’t want to hear any more about this man that Trent thought had murdered his parents. I had far more important things to attend to than his little fights with property tycoons.

“Pardon?” he asked, taken aback by my rebuke. Only once in our lives had I

ever spoken to him like that, and that was because he’d hurt my best friend’s feelings.

He was married to her now, and I rarely saw her, especially now that I wasn’t helping out with the kids, but I still loved her. Him, on the other hand, I’d decided, needed to be dealt with.

“Look, why did you ask me here, Trent? I have things to do, you know?” I

lifted an eyebrow and glared at him. I could have laughed when his jaw dropped open and his eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, well, I was going to ask you to watch the kids … where are you going?” he called after me when I got up and went to the door.

“Trent, I am your sister. None of you have ever treated me like I am. I know you have the excuse that your mother wasn’t my mother, but really? Isn’t it time you got past that and treated me with some respect? I love your children, but damn! Enough is enough! No, I won’t watch your kids. Hire a fucking nanny!” I was angrier than I’d been when I left the family the first time and came out here.

How fucking dare he?

I wasn’t normally one for swearing, but I was so mad; I couldn’t help it.

He’d already forgotten our talk? My demand for respect from them? How could he?

I went to the car, drove home, and had calmed down by the time I got there. I took the packet of papers Mr. Dark had given me into the living room and sat down to go over the lines that had been edited. It was all there in black and white. The plans he had, the things I’d asked to be added in, and the promise of two weeks of pure pleasure.

He would take me places; some I would go into incognito, in others, I’d go

as myself. He would also lead me deeper into the lifestyle he’d barely nudged me into. I found I wanted to go deeper with him; I craved the things he’d written down.

I remembered the way he’d slapped my ass and squirmed on my plush sofa. I

missed him already. Too bad we hadn’t agreed to start right away. I flipped the pages and read about the specific items that he would use on me, the ones I’d agreed to. I wasn’t sure what some of them were, but it sounded exciting, and I wanted to explore that with him.

I only had two weeks with him, so we were going to have a lot of time to explore together, but it wasn’t a long time in the grand scheme of things. I’d move on after, as would he, and maybe we’d meet again, but right now, I only had two weeks of heaven to look forward to.

I thought I’d be too embarrassed to do much of this, to talk about some of this so openly, but I had done it and talked about it freely with him. He put me at ease, made it comfortable to talk about, and to even demand things. I didn’t want to be emotionally scarred when this was all over, but I did want memories that might have to last me a while.

I didn’t know that I’d ever be brave enough to do this with anyone else. And that part about groups? I wasn’t so sure about that. I'd only wanted him to touch me, and I’d only wanted to touch him. The idea of both being done by someone else did kind of intrigue me, though, I had to admit. That was why I’d capitulated and written in may or may not engage in activities with others in that section. Maybe I’d only want to watch or have him watch me.

The idea blossomed in my head, and I sat back on the couch. I imagined him

on the other couch, watching as another man settled down between my thighs to do the things he’d done to me. The jealousy I imagined in his eyes started a flame in my blood. I took the fantasy further and imagined him naked. How hard he’d be as he watched another man touch me. Would it really turn him on, I wondered? Would he allow someone else that privilege?

Was that something that would happen in this culture, I had to wonder. I’d be his sub, would he allow that? It was in there in black and white, so he’d have to allow it. I’d realized then just how much freedom he’d given me. Far more than

I’d thought I’d have if he’d allow that to happen. The fantasy returned, and my body throbbed with desire.

His eyes would narrow when I put my hands in the man’s hair, as I shivered

with pleasure, our eyes would lock together. I added a woman, on her knees, and the fantasy became something totally different. It became something I’d wanted but wasn’t sure I’d ever act on. Things like that changed dynamics. I’d seen a movie recently about people who actually acted on those desires, and it hadn’t ended well for them. Others online had said it enhanced their relationships, but would it really? I had to wonder, and right now, it was easy to see the good side of it.

Pleasure for both, as we watched the partner we shared be pleasured. I could feel a throb between my thighs, and no amount of squirming on the couch would make it better. I sat up, told myself to be a big girl, and take control. I took a deep breath, went into the kitchen for a glass of apple juice, and came back to finish reading.

There were a few lines about after care and how he’d make sure I was in a fit state at all times. Even when I was on my knees begging, sobbing for relief, he’d make sure I wasn’t hurt by the ordeal. Not physically, anyway. But that was the purpose wasn’t it, denial to make the proper moment even more explosive?

I knew I was new to all of this BDSM stuff, but I’d done my homework. I

knew what I was in for; I just hadn’t experienced most of it. Yet. I would soon, very soon.

A text came from Trent, and I stared down at the phone. Was it an apology,

or was he upbraiding for speaking to him like that, as if I was a servant? I decided then to get a new phone and only give Mr. Dark the number. My family would be cut out of my life for the next two weeks. Surely nothing too horrible would happen in that time.

I picked up the contract again and turned to the very last page. There, it was stated the contract was not legally binding, not in a court of law, but we would be expected to treat the contract as if it was. He’d already signed it, and I loved the scrawl of his name. It was legible, but showy, a little bit like him.

I took the paper and started to sign it when I finally noticed his real name