Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (12 page)

The gears were turning in those stunning,
inquisitive eyes of yours as you tried to make sense of my
dichotomy. I can’t figure it out myself and I gave up trying to
make sense of it long ago. You strangely seemed to enjoy the gentle
fucking I gave you just as much as the forceful one from Saturday.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Your personality split is just
as evident as mine, though you don’t see it. Docile and submissive
at times to rebellious and impetuous. If I weren’t so captivated
with your reactions, I might try a little harder to bring you to
heel.

I’m reminded of C3 when you act out and the
way she was finally forced into submission. I won’t go that route
with you, though, as I suspect caging and physical restraint might
have the opposite effect on you and you might attempt to resign
from our little game. Not that I would allow it. But alas, you’re
much stronger than she was. You make me work hard for every inch of
surrender you give me and I’m exhilarated by it.

I shall sleep with thoughts of you lingering
in my subconscious and hopefully keeping my demons at bay. They are
begging to be set loose and I know I can’t deny them for long, but
until then I’m content to make new rules for you to abide by and
new ways to challenge your way of thinking. Goodnight, My Sweet
Peach.

On his nightstand and next to the receiver
that was connected to Elsa’s apartment, he propped up a Polaroid
picture of her that he had snapped while she was sleeping. Tuning
the device into her bedroom, he could hear the sound of her deep
breathing as she slept. He could still smell her on his skin as he
stared at the photo. What was she dreaming about? Him? Patrick? One
of the many others who had broken her all too willing heart? There
were some things even he couldn’t find out and it drove him fucking
mad that he would never know the things contained in her sleepy
bliss.

As his eyes closed, he knew he couldn’t wait
until Saturday to taste her again or to feel her hands on him. As
he had exited her apartment, he left her with three simple words:
to be continued
. And that’s exactly what he intended on
doing the following day – continuing where he left off.

Elsa woke invigorated. She had dreamt of
Victor and his dark and demanding eyes, his inescapable hands all
over her, and his insistent mouth. God, that mouth and the things
it did to her body…

To be continued…
his words flitted
into her subconscious off and on all morning as she floated around
her office on an invisible cloud of lust and desire. Even the
aggravation and humiliation he had caused the previous weekend was
a now distant memory.

Just as she was finishing a project, she
smelled Mr. Black’s presence and heard the door behind her lock.
Her body stiffened as his strong hands found her waist and he
pressed himself against her, his mouth instantly finding her
neck.

“Shall we continue where we left off?” he
breathed against her sensitive flesh while grinding his rigid cock
into the small of her back.

“Yes... please,” she threw her head back and
turned to meet his mouth.

His fingers skimmed her thighs as he slipped
his hand under her skirt. Just as his tongue slicked across her
teeth, he jerked away from her and spun her around, knocking the
wind out of her sails and causing her to gasp out. With a heated
look passing over his face, he heaved her skirt up and snapped the
band of her silk panties.

“Would you care to explain this?” he asked,
his throaty voice and expression revealing irritation.

Elsa shook her head, confused by his sudden
annoyance.

He gritted his teeth but kept his anger in
check. “I wrote down my rules for you and still you can’t remember
them?”

Her mind began racing with the few rules he
had emphasized. He had said no undergarments, but she didn’t think
he meant at work.

As if decoding her jumbled thoughts, he
responded, “It was rule number one.
Never wear
underwear. Not in my presence or anywhere else,” he backed away. “I
hate repeating myself,” he grumbled and glanced over her
shoulder.

“I’m at work, Vict…” she
promptly shut her mouth when his already narrowed eyes shot back to
her and squinted further, the muscle in his jaw quivering. “Mr.
Black…” she quickly corrected herself. “You can’t expect me to not
wear underwear at work.”

He turned his body and
waved to the empty room. “You work alone. What would it matter?”
Facing her, he glowered. “Even if you didn’t, I made it clear what
my expectations are.”

“But I’m at work,” she
whispered.

His mouth went tight and
grim. “I heard you the first time.”

Turning away, he walked
toward the door and reached for the door knob. He stopped and
inhaled a deep breath and then mumbled something unintelligible,
but Elsa could swear she heard the word ‘stupid.’ Her nerves
prickled and she tugged her skirt down over her thighs.

“I’m not stupid,” she
blurted.

He spun on his heel and
glared at her. “I would never call you that. Perhaps I should
include another rule about speaking out of turn when you don’t have
all the facts.”

She cringed at his critical stare and the
thought of him adding yet another rule, though she knew with
certainty there were more to come.

“What I said was: it was stupid of me to have
come here. You’re no different than the other Chapters.” And with
that, he turned again and walked out, leaving her to stew on his
words.

What did he mean by Chapters? His choice of
terminology was more than a little bewildering and she sank into
her office chair, reeling from the entire incident. An unwelcome
flashback of her wetting herself came to mind. If he dared make her
do it again… she pushed the thought from her mind. It was too awful
to think about.

The remainder of her work day she sulked and
moped, leaving most of her tasks either half completed or
unattended to. It had only been a week since meeting Mr. Black and
already her work was suffering. It was preposterous. She absolutely
had to know more about him and what made him into the man he was.
She didn’t know the first thing about how to get that sort of
information, but she knew people who did and she would just have to
call in a few favors. First on her list: her brother. He was a
nosey S.O.B. like Mr. Black, but she was sure he could help.

When she arrived home, she started to dial
his number when she remembered that Mr. Black might be listening so
instead she decided to use the telephone in the lobby of her
apartment building.

When her brother answered, he actually seemed
enthusiastic to hear from her and Elsa couldn’t deny that she, too,
was happy to hear his familiar, if not grating, voice.

“Yo, El, it’s about damn time. I know you’ve
been avoiding me,” he chuckled.

It was true. She had been. “How’s Mom?”

“Worried that you’re out there selling your
body to pay your bills. Call her and either confirm or deny it,
will you?”

No, she wasn’t selling it; she had freely
signed it away. “I need a favor. Can you do a background check on
someone for me?”

“One of your ‘clients’?” he snickered.

“Shut the hell up, Nick. Can you or not?”

“Of course I can. All I need is a name.”

“I need more than just a basic check though,
if you get my drift.”

Nick’s voice oozed condescension. “You’re
such a fuck up, Elsa. What did you do? Piss someone off and now you
need blackmail material?”

“You’re an ass. Never mind,” she pouted.

Nick had always been the perfect one in her
mother’s eyes - perfect grades; flawless wife; an aerospace degree
from MIT, blah, blah, barfity blah. She rolled her eyes and fake
gagged. She would never live down her rebellious years in her
family’s eyes. Seriously? Selling her body? Just because she
illegally got a tattoo at the age of seventeen and did time in
juvie didn’t mean she was out hooking for a living. Didn’t her
mother have any faith in her? She had an engineering degree, too,
and just because it wasn’t from a prestigious and over-priced
college like Nick’s, didn’t make it any less valid.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she snapped as she
was about to hang up the phone.

“Oh, stop pouting. I’ll do it,” he
sighed.

“Thank you. His name is Victor Black…” she
caught herself. “I mean Victor Laurenzo.”

“Interesting.”

Elsa’s senses heightened. “What do you
mean?”

“A Laurenzo Black called me about two weeks
ago about a job reference for you. He asked all sorts of questions
and I just wrote it off. Do you think it was the same person?”

Fear and anger knotted inside her. “Of course
it was. Like what kinds of questions?”

“I don’t remember. The usual shit. He asked
about your character strengths and weaknesses and I couldn't think
of any weaknesses so I made a joke about your tickling phobia.” he
laughed.

“Oh, my, God, Nick, you have no idea what
you’ve done. What else did you tell him?” she nearly sobbed.

“I don’t remember,” he quieted down when he
heard the distress in her voice.

Like hell he didn’t remember.

“Shit, El. I didn’t know it was a big deal.
Who is this guy?”

“Just do a check on him. But be careful, he
works for the FBI.”

“Fuck. What did you get yourself into?”

*

After her phone call, Elsa lay in her bed
with her thoughts racing. She could only imagine what other
personal information Nick had divulged to Victor. Mr. Black.
Whatever. The man who was most likely going to punish her for
breaking the outlandish rule of not wearing panties to work. What
sort of outrageous chastisement did he have planned next? She
reminded herself about his statement of her being physically safe
in his home and that eased her distress somewhat, though not much.
And he was a representative of the government so obviously he
wouldn’t harm her. He had a reputation to uphold. Then again, it
would also make it easier for him to cover up her death.

Appalled with where her thoughts were going,
she closed her eyes and forced herself to take a nap. She woke
sometime after midnight, irritated with herself for having
unintentionally slept so long. She changed and broke out the
nearly-full bottle of wine she had bought several nights
before.

Three glasses of wine later, she picked up
her phone and as if she were standing next to her body without any
control over her own actions, she helplessly watched her fingers
find Patrick's name in her contracts and hit send. When she heard
his sleepy voice on the other end, she snapped back to
semi-sobriety and hung up, cursing herself for dialing him and then
acting so immature as to hang up.

Not even twenty seconds later, her phone rang
out, Patrick's name flashing across the screen. Of course he would
call her back. Mortified, she sat staring at it while it continued
to ring. Finally the phone went silent and she sighed with relief,
but her relief was short-lived when her phone rang out again.

Deciding to man-up, she answered. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to call and wake you.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked with concern
in his voice.

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you sure? It's late and I was surprised
to see that you were calling.”

“Really, I’m fine. I just dialed your number
by mistake.”

“Well since you've called, how are you? How's
the new job?”

His voice… she had missed his soft, smooth
voice and calm disposition. “Good. I’m lead supervisor,” she
smiled, proud of her new position.

“I heard. Congratulations on your career
advancement. We all miss you here.”

We?
Elsa knew that wasn’t true and
that he was just being polite. “Tell everyone I said hi, will
you?”

“Will do. Elsa…” he broke off and she could
hear a muffled female’s voice in the background. She swallowed hard
and cringed at the thought of him with another woman. “I never
meant…” he continued.

Here it comes – the dreaded ‘it was me, not
you’ speech. She couldn’t bear to hear it. Not again. “I know,” she
cut in, speaking in a weak and tremulous whisper. “I’m okay with
how things ended. Really,” she lied. “Take care of yourself.”

The conversation ended and the same sinking
feeling she had when he had first broken her heart, punched her in
the diaphragm and stole the breath from her. She never wanted to
make the mistake of calling Patrick again and without delay she did
what she should’ve done six months ago and erased his number from
her phone.

Friday ticked by slowly and the only good
thing that came from it was she was able to get everything done
that she had put off all week. As each minute passed by, her denial
of what was going to take place on Saturday was becoming
reality.

On her drive home, her body began to shake as
fearful images built in her mind causing her to pull over on the
side of the road. What the hell was wrong with her? She didn’t have
to go through with it. She could just end things and be over it.
But Mr. Black… Victor… he would never allow it. She knew that much
to be true and she had already promised him that she would take
whatever he had planned. Him and his damned game.

That’s right - it was all just a game, she
repeated to herself. Just a game. Only a game. It would all be over
when he had his fill of her and found his next contestant. Then
what? She would be alone again and without the distraction that he
was providing her with. But did she really want that kind of a
distraction? What other choice did she have? Solitude. That was the
cold, stark alternative she had and one she would rather suffer Mr.
Black’s wrath than face.