Diablo Blanco Club: Unfair Advantage (21 page)

Bryce interrupted her. “Wanting to take on the role of Domme now, babe?”

Unwilling to let him badger her, she shoved out of her chair and met him head-on. “Get over yourself, Halsey. If you’d take one blasted second to listen to what I have to say, you’d realize I’m just trying to save us a lot of pain when you get bored and want out.”

That seemed to take him aback. Mattie watched confusion suffuse his features, but it was quickly wiped clear of any emotion. “Bored?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shook his head. “I didn’t realize you had such a low opinion of me, Lawrence.”

Not wanting to read any more into his lack of expression, Mattie closed her eyes and rubbed at the ache building behind them. Her other hand rose to rub at the tension knotting the muscles in her neck. “Listen, Bryce. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Let’s just table this discussion—”

The firm clasp of his hand around her upper arm had her looking up at him. “One more thing we should discuss before we table our conversation.” His eyes held hers as he pulled her closer.

“Wha-what’s that?” she stammered, not sure if it was his gaze or his touch, but the words that he spoke next sent ice cascading through her body.

“Kids.”

Wrenching her arm out of his grasp, she moved away from him. “No.” There was no yielding in her tone. Just the thought of bringing a child into an unstable relationship had her belly in knots.

“What do you mean no? No, you don’t want any? No, you can’t have any?”

If there was one thing she desperately wanted and dreamed of most, it was carrying his child, but there was no way she was going to risk having a baby without knowing if she could trust in a future with this man.

“I’m almost forty-one, Lawrence.” His eyes studied her as he made it clear what he wanted. “I intend to be involved and able to enjoy my children’s growing up. This company will need someone to take over after I’ve retired, just as I’m taking over for my father. Can you give me some clue as to what exactly you mean by no kids?”

Shaking her head, she told him, “Not in the first two years. Maybe…” She swallowed, her arms wrapped around herself to fight the chill brought on by memories. The screams, the dark, cramped closet she couldn’t get out of, the accusations. Drawing a deep breath, she forced them back into the corner of her mind and focused on remaining calm.

“Maybe, what? You will or you won’t, or you can or you can’t? Give me some clarification here,” he snapped, stepping close, holding her gaze.

“I—” Mattie ran her tongue over her dry lips before finishing. “I can have children. And I do want to have your baby. I just want to wait. I want to be sure.”

Something in her face must have warned him not to push the issue. And he hadn’t. Every other issue and suggestion she’d made, yes, but not her decision that children should wait. Now, a week later, the deed was done. The vows had been spoken, and she and her husband—
oh my God
… She took a deep breath to still the nerves in her stomach. She and Bryce had said their good-byes to the guests.

Here she stood, her belongings stuffed into closets and drawers, barely filling a third of the space allotted her. The rest of her things, furniture, books, everything either settled in some other room in the house or placed in storage here on the property. Running her gaze over the furniture surrounding her, Mattie shook her head. This was so much more than what she was used to.

The silk veil had been removed hours earlier. Her sister had helped loosen the complex knot of interlaced braids created by the hairdresser Jacob had hired. Untangling each of the braids and brushing her hair had taken only a few minutes, but it didn’t settle the nerves that jangled and jumped.

Still, even as comfortable as she was with Pirate’s Folly and the nearly two-dozen rooms that made up the mansion, she couldn’t bear to remain in their room a moment longer. Slipping out the dressing room door of her suite, she hesitated, wondering if Bryce would be near enough to catch her, or if her sister might find her wandering the halls in her wedding gown. Each thud of her heels as she crossed the carpet runner had her wincing. Kicking them off at the base of the spiral staircase leading up to one of the turrets, she gathered her skirts and hurried up the steps.

Having never been to this floor in the house, Mattie paused in the arched doorway of the staircase. Another archway stood across the wide hallway diagonal from her position, but only two doors opened into the area. Both were closed. Moving to the one closest, she tested the knob and found it locked.

The other door opened easily.

Fading sunlight filtered through the twin sets of French doors and the skylight above, casting a crimson glow over the canvases stacked against the wall, the few chairs tucked into corners, and the paint-spattered table covered in a jumble of brushes, tins, bottles, and palettes. Set between the French doors, not against the wall or near the center of the circular room, but halfway between, was a wide bed with four thick posts supporting the iron canopy; white silk sheets covered the high mattress and a mound of pillows lay scattered at one end of the bed.

She knew about Bryce’s interest in painting. The nautical scenes decorating his office and hers were his work, but she’d never been into his studio. In the center of the room, directly beneath the skylight, a painting rested on an easel. It was larger than any she’d ever seen in the offices and the braided black leather framing the canvas piqued her curiosity.

With the light fading through the windows, she reached for the switch beside the door. Lamps, scattered around the room, offered only a dim glow, but it was enough as she stepped around the easel and froze. Her heart stopped, then resumed thumping in a ragged, excited beat. The heat between her thighs and the gathering moisture had her cursing the overactive imagination that allowed the image before her to come to life in her mind.

* * *

The brief summary spelled out his suspicions in black-and-white.

“Sorry it took so long to get the information, Bryce.” David Henderson turned from his examination of the books on the shelves to meet Bryce’s gaze.

“I understand,” he assured the investigator before his gaze dropped to read the last line of the report for the third time.

As confirmed through interviews and information filed with subject’s personal physician, subject has never participated in sexual intercourse with any partners, male or female
.

“You’ll send the bill to the Folly.” He closed the file and slid it into the desk drawer before rising from his chair.

“Of course.”

The hesitation in the younger man’s voice had Bryce pausing to sit on the corner of his desk. “You have something to say?”

David scratched at the neatly trimmed goatee framing his mouth, seeming to debate whether he would voice his comment. Apparently his need to say it overrode his caution. “I figure if you act fast, you can have an annulment wrapped up before the end of the month.”

Bryce fought the urge to laugh. He’d trained this man, so he understood David’s misconceptions. Without realizing it, his right hand moved to worry the ring on his left. Its unfamiliar weight was strangely comfortable. “There won’t be an annulment, David.”

The younger man stared at him. “But your rule…”

Bryce shook his head. “No annulment.”

David seemed to think about it for a moment before he shrugged, his hands tucked into his dress slacks. “At least she was conscientious about birth control.”

“Explain.” Even Bryce was surprised at the irritation filling his voice at this information.

“According to her doctor’s records, Miss Lawrence can’t use birth control pills. Something about side effects. So about two weeks ago, she was fitted for a diaphragm. It came in day before yesterday and she picked it up.”

He didn’t ask how David had gained access to the confidential information about his wife. The man’s covert skills were something he’d admired and relied on since David had taken over Henderson Investigative Services when David’s father retired three years earlier. Instead Bryce nodded and thanked him before following the younger man out of the study.

The stairs leading up to the family bedrooms stood to his right as he watched David let himself out the front door. They’d seen most of the guests off before Lawrence and he had drifted toward the stairs. David’s request to talk to him had caught him halfway up, so he’d left his bride to go to their adjoining rooms alone.

Bryce controlled his need to curse. Her damned stubborn refusal to wait before having any children would drive him insane. More than likely she would relent on the time frame she’d given, but he didn’t want to wait. A child would connect them. It would forge a link she couldn’t walk away from, no matter how hard she might try. He could read the mistrust she carried about his commitment to their relationship, but he wouldn’t allow her to hide from it.

Since their confrontation over the prenuptial contract, he’d been contemplating actions that would test their relationship but at the same time solidify Mattie’s connection to him. With this last bit of information, he was pretty damned sure, distasteful as it may be, it could be the only move left for him. Turning away from the temptation to join his wife, Bryce entered the formal sitting room.

“You don’t look like a man anticipating his wedding night,” Richard teased from his seat on the sofa.

Anticipating, hell, Bryce thought. His cock was hard and more than willing to spend the next week sating every need he’d held in check for most of the last decade. In answer to Richard, he smiled. “Just making sure the guests have been seen to.”

“With the way you’ve been plotting this, I’d’ve thought guests would be the last thing on your mind.”

An unusual anger slid through him. “Worried you’ll have to wait longer than usual to fuck my woman?”

The very stillness that surrounded Richard had Bryce cursing silently. Setting his glass on the table, Richard rose and crossed to face him. “Do you want to say that again, old friend?”

Thrusting his fingers through his hair, Bryce shook his head. “No. My apologies, Rich.”

“I’m not the one you should be worried about, Bryce.” Shaking his head, Richard stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes carefully scrutinizing him. “You don’t actually think you’ll be able to share her, do you?”

A part of him wanted to growl at the very thought of letting another man touch what was his. With the report confirming his suspicions about his wife’s virginity, a primal part of him reveled in knowing that he was the first to bring her to orgasm, and he would be the first to slide deep into her tight, wet sheath. Another part whispered just how much more intense her climax would be when he introduced her to the pleasure to be had from a ménage.

Shoving that possessive beast down deep, he faced his friend and business associate. “Of course. How is this any different than any of the other women we’ve shared?” Even with the words spoken, he could see Richard doubted his assurances.

“This is Mattie we’re talking about, Bryce,” Richard reminded him, returning to his seat to retrieve his drink. “She’s not like any of the subs we’ve trained or the women we’ve been involved with before.”

“She’s more, Rich.” Bryce smiled as he recalled the various punishments his woman had endured during the trial period she’d insisted on. “I’ve never seen a woman who was more perfectly suited as a submissive than Lawrence.”

“And a ménage?”

“That as well.” Bryce forced the words out despite the twisting in his belly. “She’ll take to it as naturally as she took to spanking.”

“But what about you?” Richard asked. “Will you be able to handle the repercussions?”

For that question, Bryce had no answer.

“Answer something for me, Bryce?” Richard asked, leaning back in his seat.

“If I can.”

“Why do you always call her ‘Lawrence’?” Richard chuckled. “Since the first day she started working for us, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call her by her first name.”

Bryce actually had to laugh as he contemplated how to answer. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he shrugged. “It was safer to call her by a man’s name.”

“Why?”

“Keeps me from having to hide a permanent erection.” His grin had Richard laughing. “I figured if I called her by a man’s name, it would give me just enough time to keep from imagining her naked and spread out for my attentions; then I could control my cock enough to avoid getting into too much trouble.”

* * *

The sight of her shoes halted his hand as it reached for the bedroom doorknob. Discarded at the base of the stairs leading up to his studio, Bryce couldn’t stifle the grin at what she would have discovered if she’d entered the room. Bending to collect her heels, he moved up the steps, careful to make as little noise as possible. The glow of the lamps and sunset spilled across the honey-colored wood floor as he crossed to the studio door and looked inside.

Mine
. The word echoed in his head as he watched her standing before his painting, her gaze focused on the canvas. The light of the dying sun cast a crimson glow around her body, glinting like flames on the unbound curls hanging to her waist.

In his mind, the years rolled back and the image of another woman in a white gown on her wedding day superimposed itself over the features of his wife. Instead of long, curly brown hair, she wore her soft blonde hair in shoulder-length waves that framed her peaches-and-cream face. At eight, he’d known Miss Helen was beautiful. She was also well loved, not only by his father but also himself. She’d been the perfect mother to him for the eight years before he turned sixteen. It hadn’t been until years after her death, when he’d moved to California and inherited Pirate’s Folly and the Diablo Blanco Club from his great-uncle, that he’d realized how much his father had loved her as well as his mother.

Neither of his mothers had been submissives or even interested in the lifestyle his father had participated in before his marriages or after their deaths. Jacob’s love for both women was deep enough that he’d suppressed the very nature he’d been raised and trained to use. The intensity of his feeling was reflected in the pain his father suffered with each of their losses. A hurt Bryce had felt with Miss Helen’s death and which he never wanted to endure again. Bryce slammed the door on his memories and the emotions associated with them.