Final Call (The Call #2) (22 page)

Goddamn it.

“Do anything like this
ever again and I might just have to kill you,” I murmur when he
leans in for a kiss.

“Understood.” He sweeps
his mouth across mine. “Liv only packed the basics, which is
apparently more than I imagined considering your whole closet is
here…”

I smirk.

“So if you want to,
we’ll go back tomorrow and get anything else you need.”

“Does anything else
include food? Because, y’know, if I’m living here, I’m gonna need
some real food.”

“Empty your cupboards
if that’s what you want to do.” He grins. “It’ll save me from
having to go grocery shopping.”

“I don’t believe for a
second you go grocery shopping.”

“Occasionally. As
proven by the lack of food in my kitchen.”

I make a ‘hmph’ sound.
“That will change, Mr. Stone. We’re going to set some ground
rules.”

He sits back, his lips
twitching. “Fire away.”

I sit up straighter and
tick off on my fingers. “Grocery shopping happens once a week, with
both of us. Ah, ah! We’re in a relationship now, and
multimillionaire or not, we’re going to do relationship things.
Understood?”

He nods.

“Good. And that also
means that, unless there are unavoidable circumstances, not
including deliberately scheduled meetings, you will be home for
dinner every single night because I will be cooking it.”

“You can cook?”

“No, I’ve survived for
the last three years on water, raw meat, and Cheetos.” I roll my
eyes. “Of course I can cook. I spent my childhood in the kitchen
with my mom.”

“Why haven’t you cooked
for me before?”

I look at him blankly.
“You’ve never asked me to.”

“Fair point. Can you
cook tomorrow?”

“I suppose. And back to
the rules.” I give him a pointed stare. “Living together does not
give you the right to hide my shorts. Yes, I found them in the
closet, and yes, I’m keeping them. They’re comfy. No arguing.”

“I like it when you go
all bossy on me.”

“Well I can’t have you
making all the decisions, can I? If I did, I’d be married and
pregnant by the end of the month.”

His lips twitch
again.

I hold up my left arm
and tap my skin. “Implant. Don’t get any ideas.”

“No ideas.”

“Good. Let’s keep it
that way.”

He leans in again. “But
you know about that being ready thing—”

I press my finger
against his lips. “The implant has a year left, and perhaps if you
don’t piss me off too much, we’ll revisit this then. So for now,
tuck those little dreams back in their little box, because it is
not up for discussion. Are we clear, Mr. Stone?”

“Crystal, Miss Black.”
He slides his hand beneath my shorts and tugs on my bottom lip with
his teeth. “Now, are you done with your requirements—uh,
rules?”

“Uh, um, yep.” I
breathe what passes for words as he brushes his nose down my
neck.

“Good.” He stands and
lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he walks in the
direction of the bedroom. “Because my cock has a requirement you
need to fulfill. Right now.”

Chapter
Nineteen

My house feels empty
despite everything but my clothes being here. I mean, my sofa is
still next to the window in the front room, and my mugs are still
lined on the shelf in the kitchen, but it feels different.

Maybe it’s because I’m
here alone. Where this was once my sanctuary, it’s now a building
that’s almost unfamiliar. Uncomfortable.

The fact that the last
time I was here was with Naomi is irrelevant.

I grab the pile of mail
from behind the door and drop it on the island in the kitchen. An
envelope with a handwritten address on it catches my eye.

Shivers snake their way
down my spine when I pick it up, and I swallow hard. The only
things I get in mail are bills and lingerie catalogs, and I don’t
like what my gut feeling is telling me. It’s a shame that ignoring
it won’t make it go away.

I slide my pinkie
finger under the flap and pull out the piece of paper inside.

Tick tock.

I fold the note over
and shove it in a drawer with a bang. Because I needed the
reminder. Because I really needed a shitty little note to tell me
that I have two fucking weeks to come up with a miracle.

I lean against the side
and take several deep breaths, letting the tension roll off my
shoulders. Bitch. Absolute bitch.

There’s nothing I want
to do more now than get all my things and leave this house. I don’t
want to wait for Aaron. I don’t want to sit here in this house
trying to figure out what I have to do.

I don’t want to spend
my time thinking about how such a beautiful love carries something
so ugly.

I fill a suitcase with
everything else necessary, photos, books left behind, the half-full
can of hairspray sitting on my dresser. Downstairs, I fill two bags
full with food and leave them on the floor by the door.

And I grab my cell. I
speed-dial Monique and pace until the line clicks.

“Dayton.”

“Monique. Can we
talk?”

“Unnecessary. I already
know what you’re telling me, don’t I?”

I nod. Stupidly. She
can’t see me. “If it’s…” I swallow, my stomach coiling, and screw
my eyes shut. This is harder than it should be. “If it’s that I’m
leaving you, then yes. You already know.”

“I expected you would.
I’m sorry to see you go, Day.”

“I’m sorry I have to.
Truly, I am.”

“But as sorry as I am,
I’m much happier for you. Although you tell that man if he hurts
you, I’m coming after his rich motherfucking ass and I’m going to
slice off his balls.”

I laugh. “I will. Don’t
worry. I promise.”

“Good. And, Dayton? If
you ever need anything, even as a friend, call me.”

“Why, Monique. Are you
going soft in your old age?”

“No. You and your aunt
bring out the worst in me,” she laughs. “I have to go. The girls
are here for the weekly meeting.”

“Tell them bye from me,
will you?” I ask as something pangs in my chest.

“Of course. I’ll see
you, honey.”

“See you,” I whisper,
hanging up.

I close my eyes and
press my hand to my stomach. I never expected leaving that world to
be easy, but I never thought it would hurt either. For five years,
it truly was my life. But just like a book has different chapters,
life has different stages.

This, me and Aaron, is
a new stage in my life. One I can fully only embrace by saying
goodbye to the previous one.

Two sharp raps at the
door echo through the house, and I jump. I don’t want to answer
it—just in case. What if…

Aaron strolls into the
kitchen and I let out the breath I was holding. Stupid woman,
jumping to conclusions. Of course it’s Aaron.

“You’re back early.” I
lean back as he kisses me.

“I have senior staff
for a reason. All they needed was a handful of signatures on
contracts after they’d been to the lawyers. Why they couldn’t wait,
I’ll never know.” He looks at the suitcase and bags. “Do you have
everything you need?”

I nod. “Including
food.”

He smirks. “You and
your food.”

“It’s a basic need.” I
flatten my hands against his chest, loving the feel of the solid
muscle beneath my fingertips. “I called Monique.”

“You did? Already?”

“Yep. I’m a free
woman,” I whisper.

He sweeps me his arms
around me and plants a hot kiss on my lips. “No, baby. You’re not a
free woman. You’re
my
woman.”

I smile against him and
kiss his cheek. “Like I have any other choice.”

“Damn right you don’t.”
He releases me. “Can I ask you something about this place before we
go?”

“Sure. What?”

“When my assistant came
here with Liv—”

“Your assistant was
here?!”

“—she said there was an
extension, but it was locked and Liv wouldn’t let her in.”

I suck my bottom lip
into my mouth. Would you believe I totally forgot about my
extension? With everything...it just faded from my mind.

“Why is it locked?”

“I built my extension
to…work in.” I hold my hands up when his eyes widen. “It’s not
uncommon. Some entertain in their bedroom, but I never did.”

“Thank fucking god for
that.”

“I wasn’t comfortable
with it, so I had the extension built. There’re two rooms. A normal
bedroom and something a little…kinkier.”

Aaron’s shock soon
changes to an amused curiosity. “Kinkier?”

“Um, yes. Whips and the
like.”

“You were whipped?”

I shake my head. “No.
It wasn’t—it isn’t—my thing. I’m all for a bit of kink, but that
doesn’t appeal to me. There were some clients who preferred it that
way… Who preferred being dominated.”

“Is it wrong that the
thought of you head to toe in black leather is turning me the fuck
on right now?”

“That’s awfully
stereotypical of you, Mr. Stone. I didn’t always wear leather.
Sometimes I didn’t wear anything at all.”

“Dayton,” he growls in
the bottom of his throat, the huskiness of it hitting me square
between the legs. “Can I see?”

I drop my gaze to his
pants and the bulge there. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not planning on
laying you on a bed and whipping your ass or asking you to do it to
me. I’m just…curious.”

“Curious? About whips
and chains and kink?”

“Chains?”

“They do the same job
as your tie, but I much prefer the tie.” I grin sexily and take his
hand in mine. “Come on.”

I grab my keys and pull
him through to the back of the house. My key clicks in the lock,
and we enter a small hallway.

“Which side first? The
normal room or the kink room?”

“I’ve seen your
bedroom, sweetheart. I don’t need to see it again.”

I put my hand on the
doorknob and smile at him.
Oh, dear.
“Aaron, this is nothing
like my bedroom. Trust me.”

I push it open and step
inside. Nude photos line the walls, and thick red curtains are
draped over the window. The blankets on the large, black cast-iron
bed match them, and the black throw pillows break up the red
somewhat.

Aaron’s eyes skim the
whole room, including the leather chair in the corner and the
fluffy rug at the side of the bed. “You’re right. This is nothing
like your bedroom.”

“It’s not supposed to
be.” I drop his hand and cross to the curtains, pushing them open a
crack. “My bedroom is my space to relax. This bedroom is for
seduction and pure, hard fucking.”

“And the kink room, as
you put it?”

I drop the curtain and
lead him into that room. The coloring is mostly the same, the décor
not much different at all, with the exception of the leather chair
now being a thick wooden one.

Oh, and the fact there
are whips, floggers, and paddles hanging on one wall. Aaron stops
when he sees them, and I walk to them. I pull a whip down and run
it through one hand, gazing up at him through my lashes.

“Crack in your armor,
Mr. Stone?”

“No.” He takes it from
me and hangs it back up. “As sexy as that look is on you, I’m
struggling to imagine a situation in which I’d rather smack your
gorgeous ass with a bit of leather instead of my hand.”

“I would be offended if
you preferred the whip over your hand.”

“I’d be offended if you
wanted
the whip.”

“Well, would you look
at that? Something we both agree on.” I pat his cheek with a grin
and leave the room.

The thought that I
won’t be using this room again is happier than I imagined it would
be. Truth be told, this room was never my favorite, but they were
big players because of the taboo that goes with the dom/sub
arrangement. Absolute anonymity was required because they were the
guys with the most money. The most powerful ones.

“You know the interior
of these rooms will be ripped out, don’t you?” Aaron asks softly
behind me.

I twist the key in the
lock and nod. “I know. And I’m okay with that. It’s my past, and
that doesn’t matter anymore.”

His kiss is soft.
“Good, because those rooms are the perfect size for—”

“An office and a
playroom.” I laugh the words and he pauses. “Hey, you were about to
say that exact thing.”

“I was,” he agrees with
a smile and pulls me into his side in the kitchen. “Come on, Bambi.
Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”

I smack his stomach and
grab the food bags. “I hope you can cook. I don’t intend to.”

***

“When are you in
Seattle?”

“In two days.”

“Got a couple of hours
to spare for me?”

Tyler chuckles down the
phone. “Finally come to your senses and realized I’m the better
cousin?”

I laugh into my hand.
“Yes, that’s it. Since leaving London, I’ve realized I’m madly in
love with you and I can’t be without you any longer.”

“Ah, well, it was
coming.”

“You’re an ass, Ty. No.
I was wondering if I could…take you up on your offer.”

“You’re going to let me
shoot you?”

“As long as we’re
talking cameras and not guns, yes.”

He clicks his tongue.
“I suppose I can go easy on you. Of course I have time for you.
I’ll call you when boss man has given me my schedule.”

“Text me. This is going
to be a…surprise.”

“A surprise, huh? Is
that what they call a shock these days?”

“Shut up. He already
moved me into his apartment. I’m not giving him the further
satisfaction of knowing he’s getting his way with this too.”

Chapter
Twenty

His shirt is open,
showing every perfectly sculpted pack of muscle on his chest. A
blue tie is tucked beneath the collar, hanging undone around his
neck, and a cell phone is perched precariously between his ear and
his shoulder as he buttons his fly.