Enraptured (21 page)

“But I’m not your partner. You own me. I gave myself to you.”

Please, Roman, don’t pull away now.

Roman stood, taking the empty mug from her hand, and pulled her against his chest. He was so tall that when he hugged her, her cheek rested just below his heart. The steady thud calmed her.

“You are my partner, even in submission. It takes two, as they say. You’ll need to let me hold on to your collar, too. For safekeeping.”

She looked up at him, unable to keep her disappointment from her eyes.

“It’s just while your parents are here. You’re still my collared submissive, even if you’re not wearing the actual collar, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered into his chest. “Oh shit!”

Roman swatted her ass without releasing her from his embrace, and wrapped his arm around her again.

“Sorry, sir. I just realized—what about the huge mosaic of a whip at the bottom of the pool?”

“Oh, that. Yeah. We’re fucked.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and they burst into laughter.

God, I love you, Roman.

R
oman couldn’t concentrate on his work. Even during a teleconference with a new client, Marc, and Trevor, he kept glancing at the time in the corner of his computer screen. Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn would be arriving soon with Jessica.

And he was nervous as hell.

Odd, too, considering he’d been through so many things that would make other men quake in their Gucci loafers, and barely even worried about them. He traded assets worth millions with less doubt than he had right now, wondering what his submissive’s parents would think about him. About them.

He’d instructed Jessica to call him when they were close so he’d be prepared to greet them at the door, but he was already raring to go. Even with traffic, they should be there by now.

Roman stood and stretched his lower back, then looked around the office one last time to make sure nothing was left around that would upset a parent. What would upset a parent, though? He had no clue.

Imagine you’re a father
, he instructed himself. With fresh eyes, he looked at his office. Neat, orderly. Everything was electronic these days, so there wasn’t too much paper around. No implements or bottles of lube left out—those were in the drawer, along with her collar. Too bad it wasn’t a drawer with a lock.

Roman walked down the east wing to the guest suite, satisfied with the new look Jessica had given it. It was inviting and fresh, and the clean white lines felt very serene.

She’d give them a tour, surely. The dungeon door was locked, but now he wondered if he should put something in front of the door so they wouldn’t question a locked door. Fuck.

At least the master bedroom and its bondage headboard had been sanitized of kink. With the open curtains and summer sun shining throughout the house, he felt relaxed, at ease. Or at least he did for a second, until he thought about Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn again.

His phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.

“Hey honey,” he answered.

“We’re pulling up!” Jessica said cheerily.

“Can’t wait to meet them,” he lied, just in case they could hear him over the phone.

Shit. He should get changed. Wearing a business suit probably would put them off, although he’d needed to for the teleconference. Roman rushed to his room and stripped, pulling on a green polo and jeans. He kept his hair in a low ponytail on the off chance that her parents would see his long hair and think he was a hippie or something. If they seemed like aging hippies, then he’d let his hair down.

Are you kidding? What has gotten into me?

Roman was never this self-conscious, never so concerned about appearances. He’d built his reputation on the invisible
fuck you
aura he carried around. He didn’t take anyone’s bullshit.

He was Roman fucking Chase, goddamn it, and he wasn’t going to bow to anybody.

The doorbell rang.

Don’t run. Walk down the stairway properly
.

He took a deep breath and headed down the stairs. As he passed the fountain, he tossed a coin from his jeans pocket into it.

I wish that this isn’t as horrible as I’m expecting it to be.
There, that was an attainable wish, right?

As he crossed to the door it swung open. Jessica had used her key to let them in since he’d taken so long.

“Hi there,” he said, putting on a friendly smile as he looked at the family standing in his doorway.

Jessica smiled nervously and ushered them inside. Her mother looked a lot like her, although in her fifties, with her hair loose around her face. She wore practically no makeup, but she’d clearly aged well, even if she was a bit too thin, like her daughter.

Mr. Vaughn, on the other hand, had a belly on him, and wore his shirt tucked into his khaki pants. His hairline receded almost to the back of his head, leaving salt-and-pepper hair on the side. At least he wasn’t trying to do a comb-over.

“Quite a place you’ve got here,” Mr. Vaughn said, but it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“It’s huge,” Mrs. Vaughn added, looking around the grand foyer as if it were a hotel lobby. To her daughter, she said, “Remember when you were a girl and you always talked about being a princess so you could live in a castle? You got your wish!”

“Little?” her father scoffed. “That was a few years ago. Well. This all makes sense now.” He glared at the luxury around them, as if the mansion itself were to blame for taking away his daughter.

Roman didn’t know what to say, so he just kept the smile frozen on his face and looked at Jessica.

“Every little girl wants to be a princess,” Jessica muttered under her breath. “Please.”

“And how nice of him to make your wish come true,” Mr. Vaughn said, the words laced with sarcasm. “With a wishing fountain, no less. I’d throw in a coin but apparently you don’t need any more of those.”

“Daddy.” She frowned. “I’ve told them all about you, Roman,” Jessica said, in the sort of way that made it very clear she had not.

“You didn’t tell us he lived in a mansion,” Mr. Vaughn grumbled. “What exactly do you do, Roman? Even Jessica didn’t seem entirely sure.”

“That’s not true!” Jessica looked at Roman, horrified.

Roman decided to take charge before things spiraled out of control. Because he would remain, above all, in control. Especially in his own house.

“It was a long drive from the airport. Would you let me help you bring your bags to your room?” Roman asked.

“It’s a secret,” Mr. Vaughn said to his wife, as if Roman wasn’t standing right there.

He laughed, hoping it didn’t sound insincere. “No, no secret. Just not very interesting. I help run the Brooks Wilde Chase Fund with my business partners, Trevor Brooks and Marc Wilde. It’s a hedge fund we jointly founded after college.”

Mrs. Vaughn smiled. “You must be a big fan of education, to be paying for Jessica’s tuition.”

Roman paused, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to make her parents feel like they’d failed at providing a college education for their daughter, or that he was so rich that it was no big deal for him to do so.

“Roman is incredibly supportive of everything that I do,” Jessica said, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“We’re going to talk more about this later,” her father said. “I’m going to be frank with you, Roman. This is weird. You’re fifteen years older than my daughter. When you were her age, she was a five-year-old child. That’s sick. Sick. Are you a pedophile?”

Jessica’s mouth opened and she gasped. “Dad! You can’t disrespect my . . . my partner like that.”

Roman stared him in the eyes. “I appreciate your blunt, if incredibly rude, question. No, I am not a pedophile. Clearly you still see Jessica as a child, but she’s a woman. An adult, one who makes her own choices.”

“You suckered her with all of this money,” Mr. Vaughn growled.

“No, Dad, he didn’t,” Jessica said. “And while I miss you, and I love you, and I really want you to stay, I—I can’t let you stay in . . . our home, not if you’re going to speak to Roman this way.”

Roman loved the way “our home” sounded on her lips. Yes, she’d hesitated, but it sounded right. He wasn’t used to seeing Jessica stand up for herself this way—when she was with him she let him be in charge. He saw her in a new light—he could imagine her in class, presenting a thesis to her professor, debating points with the other students. She was a strong woman.

And she’d given herself to him. What an incredible gift.

But the princess thing. That was . . . disconcerting.
No. It was nothing. Don’t let them ruin things.

Mrs. Vaughn spoke up, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Honey, I know you’re looking out for Jessica’s best interests. But I want to stay here, with her, and get to know her new, um . . . partner. Let’s go upstairs and unpack, and start fresh at dinner together.”

“I would like that very much, ma’am, sir,” Roman said. “You’re both very important to Jessica, which makes you important to me. I’d like us to get to know each other.”

Mr. Vaughn didn’t say anything, but Roman knew that tactic. Silence implied consent, especially in a fight when one didn’t want to lose face. Very well.

“Come on, guys. You’re going to love your suite.” Jessica grabbed her mother’s bag and headed up the stairs.

“That looks heavy, Jessica, let me get that,” Roman said, taking it from her.

They followed him in silence up the stairs, the only sound their footsteps.

“Can I take it from here, ss—Roman?” Jessica asked, blushing at nearly calling him sir.

Roman nodded. “If you need anything at all, just ask. My wonderful cook Mrs. Marsh is preparing dinner now, but it’ll be at least another couple of hours before we eat, so feel free to get a drink, or a snack. Anything.”

“He could use a drink,” Mrs. Vaughn said.

“I know the feeling. What’s your poison, sir?”

He raised his eyebrows. “With all due
respect
,” Mr. Vaughn said, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that Jessica is not of legal drinking age. Supplying alcohol to minors is illegal.”

Jessica frowned at her father. “Dad, your suite is three doors down the east wing here, on the right. Make yourself at home. I’ll bring you your gin and tonic. Mom, white wine?”

“Um, better make it two gin and tonics for us, honey.” Mrs. Vaughn winked at Roman, and Roman smiled.

Well, at least he had one of them on his side.

“Mr. Vaughn, Mrs. Vaughn, welcome to our home. Dinner is at six in the formal dining room, per Mrs. Marsh’s request. She’s making us something special.”

“You take orders from your staff?” Mr. Vaughn asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Mrs. Marsh has worked for my family since I was a baby. She’s changed my diapers, as she likes to remind me. So whatever she says goes,” he joked.

It was true, although Mrs. Marsh was also aware of his unusual tastes—he couldn’t keep it a complete secret that he’d been training submissives, so Mrs. Marsh had grown accustomed to seeing the parade of women that went through his home. He trusted her like family.

Maybe she’d be able to bring Jessica’s father around. Or maybe Roman would just have to continue his relationship with Jessica without her father’s approval.

As long as Mr. Vaughn didn’t try to take her away from him, they’d be okay. Roman walked down the hallway to his bedroom, determined to close his eyes and meditate to ease his nerves after what had basically been the worst-case-scenario introduction to her parents.

He only hoped they wouldn’t turn Jessica against him and convince her to leave. Then again, if they could do that, then perhaps she didn’t truly want to be with him. Even if he had made her childhood dream of living in a . . . a castle come true. Better to find that out now, instead of in a few years.

Just like ripping off a Band-Aid.

If you’re gonna do it, Jessica—do it fast, do it now.

Chapter Eleven

J
essica knocked softly on the door to the guest suite.

“Who is it?” her dad called.

“Just me. With drinks.”

Her mom opened the door and smiled, taking the gin and tonics from her hands. “Thank you, sweetie. Come on in, Daddy wants to talk to you.”

Oh, that couldn’t be good. She entered and perched on the edge of the queen-sized bed.

Her dad took a deep sip of his drink before talking. “Honey, your mother wants me to apologize for being rude to your . . . Roman.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jessica said.

“I mean, I apologize. Okay?” Her father looked older than the last time she’d seen him. More gray hairs, perhaps. A few more pounds overweight.

“Thank you, Daddy. I appreciate it. I’m sure Roman would appreciate it too.”

“The thing is, Jessie, you are so young. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“I do.” Jessica frowned. They better not be going with this where she thought they were going.

“What your father’s trying to say,” her mother interrupted, “is that Roman seems very nice, and he’s clearly got a lot of wealth. I’m sure that’s very appealing. But the fact is . . . he’s too old for you, sweetie. You should be with someone your own age, someone in college. Don’t you miss dating?”