Enraptured (3 page)

“Awesome. Thanks, man,” Marc said.

Roman shrugged. He might not be the most social person, but if he was going to a party, he liked having it at his place. It made him more comfortable, knowing he could leave the party without having officially left. And his dungeon was practically legendary, if he did say so himself.

“It’s as good an excuse as any to see the girls in bikinis,” Roman said. He quickly sent a text to his assistant, asking her to have casual food and drinks ready for a pool party at noon the following day. He knew she’d handle it, one of the many benefits of having a few key staff members he could trust. Nothing like what Trevor had, though—a huge personal staff managing every aspect of his estate. Their estate. Trevor and Elisabeth’s.

Stop. Move forward.

“I’m going to go find someone to scene with,” Roman said, standing. “Oh wait, no I won’t, because there’s no one fucking good here. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at my place.”

“Where you going?” Trevor asked.

“Someplace that serves something stronger than lemonade.” Even if the girl pouring the non-alcoholic drinks ignited a spark of interest he hadn’t felt in a long time. Roman looked back over at the bar. Jessica was gone.

Hmm. She must be on her break. Hopefully she would actually show up tomorrow, since the only reason they were having the party was so Lauren could entice her into playing.

Roman stepped out back and texted his driver to pull around. The cool night air was a godsend after the sea of sweaty bodies at WhipperSnapper.

Maybe with a new person around tomorrow, he wouldn’t feel the way he did this evening at their crowded booth—like someone tagging along on a double date.

A cloud of cigarette smoke floated past him, and he sniffed in distaste. He’d been a smoker once, for a few years in high school. At the time it seemed like a polite way to excuse himself when he needed a break from other people—he’d just step outside for a smoke. As he gained confidence, he realized he didn’t need an excuse to take a break. He could just leave—polite or not.

He left things a lot.

Another waft of smoke, although this one didn’t bother him. The scent of tobacco awoke the dormant smoker within him, bringing on a wave of nostalgia. Perhaps because it reminded him of the feeling of finally escaping an uncomfortable social situation.

Roman glanced over to find the source and saw Jessica leaning up against the back of the building, slowly pulling on her cigarette with her eyes closed. She was beautiful, that girl. But she didn’t quite fit in behind the bar at WhipperSnapper. Too apologetic, too vanilla.

But . . . beautiful. He had to give her that. And sweet, too. Something about the way she rushed to serve him made him smile. Maybe tomorrow they’d discover that she wasn’t as vanilla as she appeared.

Hopefully, for Lauren’s sake. Roman could empathize with the dilemma of being a Dominant with no sub. That was his life right now.

His town car sat idling nearby, waiting for him. But the scent of tobacco beckoned.

J
essica puffed on her cigarette, feeling a little high from the nicotine since she only ever smoked at work. She’d needed a moment to think after getting invited to Roman’s party.

Why had she agreed? She didn’t belong with them. What if it was a prank, like when Carrie was made prom queen?

Soft footsteps on the pavement jolted her out of her reverie. Jessica opened her eyes and straightened up.

“Hello Mr. Chase,” she whispered.

“Smoking?” he asked, and shook his head. “You might not have heard this, but smoking is bad for your health.”

“I hadn’t heard that, sir,” she joked, smiling. “I don’t smoke often, anyway.”

“May I?” he pointed to her cigarette. Maybe he was going to stomp it out, she didn’t know. But somehow his question didn’t feel like one she could deny.

Not that she wanted to deny Roman Chase anything.

“Of course. Would you like your own? I have a brand-new pack here.”

He stepped in closer to her. “I don’t have germs, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Everyone has germs,” she said, “but no, I’m not worried about . . . um, your mouth.”
Nice one
, she chided herself.
Stop talking
.

He plucked the cigarette from her hand and took a long pull, his lips on the same spot hers had been only moments before.

He handed it back to her, and she put it to her mouth, wondering if she’d taste him on the filter. Maybe . . . no. No Roman, just smoke.

His fingers brushed hers as he took her cigarette from her again and looked at it. “Why are you smoking now if you don’t smoke often?”

Jessica’s stomach flip-flopped with nerves. Attention from Roman had that effect. She pulled out a fresh cigarette for herself, though she probably should go back inside. “I needed a moment to think,” she admitted.

“And what do you think?” He looked at the dying cigarette in his hands, took a final pull, and put it out in the ashtray on the ground.

He stood slowly, his long, lean body stretching in his tight black shirt. His hair had fallen into his eyes, but he made no move to push it back. Instead he looked at her again, waiting for her answer.

“Mistress Lauren invited me to your party tomorrow,” she whispered. “Is that okay?”

“Yes. I think we’ll have room. You don’t take up much space.”

“I’ve heard about your parties,” Jessica admitted. “I can’t help overhearing when people are talking at the bar.”

“Did you like what you heard?”

Yes. No
. “I don’t know.”

“Half of what people say around WhipperSnapper are just rumors. I can tell you if what you’ve heard is true or false, if you like, before you decide if you want to come.”

She smiled. It didn’t make any sense that a man as powerful as Roman Chase was spending his valuable time talking to her, especially when he had a fancy car and a chauffeur waiting for him.

“I heard you have a beautiful mansion upstate.”

“True,” he said. “At least I think so. But it’s only in Westchester, which hardly qualifies as upstate to anyone but diehard Manhattanites.”

She laughed. “Okay. I heard your parties are way kinkier than anything that happens here at the club.”

“True. There aren’t any restrictions on a private residence the way there are at a public club.”

“What sort of restrictions are there here?” she asked. “There’s a woman hanging in a cage above the tables right now.”

He laughed softly. She’d made him laugh again. This night was turning out better than she could have hoped.

“There’s no sex allowed here. That’s not the case at my house.”

If any man other than Roman had said that to her, she would have been convinced he was hitting on her. But Roman couldn’t be interested. He only dated submissives, and despite her wildly active imagination, she had never done anything that could be considered kinky.

“Um . . . I heard you only date subs.” She laughed, hoping it would sound like a joke in case he didn’t want to answer.

“True.”

“I also heard you . . . that you train submissives.”

“True. Although I’m looking to stop that,” he muttered.

Something about the way he turned away, as if she’d lost his attention, made it clear she should stop that line of questioning. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chase. I didn’t mean to get personal.”

“I have to go,” he said. “Come to my house tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said as he walked toward his town car. He didn’t look back.

“I heard you’ve been arrested,” she called.

“False,” he said as his chauffer opened the car door for him. “That was Marc.”

“I heard you have a dungeon.”

“True.” And the driver closed the door.

A dungeon. A dungeon inside of a mansion. Jessica wondered if his dungeon looked anything like the club, or if dungeons had different styles, the way houses did.

I’d like to see your dungeon, Mr. Chase
.

Well, that settled that. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray on the ground and headed back into the club.

J
essica had no idea what to wear to a party at a billionaire’s mansion, so she wore a lavender sundress and heels, hoping they’d dress up her outfit. Inside her large purse, she’d tossed in a bikini and flip-flops, along with black leggings and a white button-down shirt in case she needed to change. Mistress Lauren had suggested the swimwear, since the day was going to be hot.

It was already hot, actually. Perspiration formed on the back of Jessica’s neck as she stood under the awning of Marc and Lauren’s building, cell phone in hand. The doorman was staring at her, as if waiting for her to do something untoward.

“I’m just waiting for some friends,” she murmured. This was ridiculous. She didn’t belong here. But if she didn’t ride with Lauren and Marc to Roman’s party, she wouldn’t be able to get there.

And she really, really wanted to see Roman Chase’s house.

And dungeon.

Lauren and Marc spilled out the front door, laughing as always. The couple was so cute together.

“There you are, beautiful!” Lauren called, and embraced her like they were BFFs. Jessica blushed but hugged her back.

“Thanks again for inviting me and giving me a ride and everything.” She turned toward Marc. “Hello, sir.”

“Call me Marc. Or stud-muffin. I answer to both.”

“Okay,” Jessica said, smiling back. It was impossible not to like them.

A black stretch limo pulled up in front of the building.

Lauren led Jessica by the hand toward the limo, where the chauffeur was already holding the back door open for them.

“We figured we’d need a little more space,” Lauren said. “Thus the limo. Sorry if it’s pretentious.”

“Am I underdressed?” Jessica asked. She felt like a moron. A sundress? And leggings to change into? She mentally groaned.

“What? No. You look great,” Lauren assured her. Since Lauren was wearing tight, dark jeans and a tank top that showcased her infamous curves, Jessica decided to believe her.

“Besides, we’ll all be getting undressed when we get there anyway,” Marc said.

Jessica froze halfway into the limo. “Pardon?”

“To go swimming,” Lauren clarified. “You have to take everything Marc says with a grain of salt.”

“Gotcha,” Jessica said, grinning. She slid all the way in, the smooth leather of the seat cool on the underside of her thighs.

The ride up to Westchester didn’t take nearly as long as Jessica expected. Marc and Lauren kept up a steady stream of conversation, to the point that Jessica didn’t even have to talk much. She’d worried needlessly about getting more super-personal questions about her sex life, or lack of it— but Lauren talked more about the fund-raiser they’d gone to the week before and the dark-chocolate fountain they had there than she did about kink.

Jessica looked out the window, hoping she didn’t seem rude. She didn’t want to get carsick from all the twists and turns through the hills of New York that the limo driver was maneuvering them through.

“It’s so pretty up here,” she commented during a lull in the conversation.

“Yeah, lots of space. Lots of trees,” Marc said. “Trevor and Elisabeth live up here too.”

“Why don’t you guys?” Jessica asked. “I mean, since you and Trevor and Roman work together and all.”

“We like the city,” Lauren said, and Jessica glanced over to see her clasping Marc’s hand. The two lovebirds were grinning at each other. It was cute.

“I go up for meetings as needed, or we teleconference. Or they come down to the city. It’s not too far, either way.”

“Roman likes his privacy. He’d go nuts living with people on top of him all the time, like in Manhattan. He barely even keeps any staff around,” Lauren confided.

Jessica nodded. He likes his privacy, huh? “Roman must like being single and having a mansion to himself, then, I guess.”

Marc frowned. “Why?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. She’d said the wrong thing. “Oh, I’m just being stupid. Because you said he likes privacy. Sorry.”

“Yeah, Roman’s kinda wary about who he lets into his circle. He hates how all those chicks at the club are so, you know . . .” Marc trailed off. “. . . interested in his money.”