The Parlour (VDB #1) (10 page)

“I’m sure there are, and I’m sure you’re one of them. It doesn’t change the fact that your office is a pigsty and you look tired. Or maybe that’s what you always look like,” she said as she opened a binder and started filing documents again. “Breathtakingly so.”

The afterthought was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it. Thankfully, he did. It always did his soul good to take a genuine compliment from an innocent. And he
was
tired, very much so. Sleep was needed.

“I’m glad you approve, my dear,” he replied, swirling his Cognac and watching her nimble fingers fumbling around. She was becoming more fuckable by the moment.

“I didn’t mean… I only meant you were...” She sat back on her haunches and stared at him. “I’m sure you know what you are. And you’re right, I should go. Sorry,” she said, getting up and straightening her dress again nervously. She made her way to the door and began to step through it.

“Did I give you permission to leave, my dear?”

“Oh, no, but you said I should...”

“I’m hungry.” Not just for food, it seemed.

“Right?” she said, drawing out the R beautifully and staring at him in mystification.

“Do you enjoy seafood?”

“Who doesn’t?” she clipped, almost scolding in her tone as she kept her eyes fixed on him. He ran his fingers over his lips and gazed at her mouth with its fiery little comments. Appealing indeed.

“Mmm. I’ll have the chef send some up then, if you’d care to join me. You may carry on with your…” He flicked his hand at whatever it was that she was doing, “…organising, while I make some calls.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, I’ll just put these over there then,” she replied, snatching up her papers again and sorting through them.

He picked up the phone and called through to the kitchen for a platter of food then watched her as she moved around. She was elegant, graceful. She had an underlying calm about her, almost serene as she focused on her task and let nothing get in the way of it. Calculated digits stroked the papers and filed them appropriately into the corresponding drawers and cupboards. It was as if she had been in the office before. She seemed to know where everything should live and what needed to go where.  Her rich, dark brown hair swayed and grazed across her shoulders fluidly as she moved from side to side. Reaching and stretching into various cupboards, she showed her flexibility, perching on one leg to reach high and then bending down to find more folders to work on. He found himself mesmerised by the performance. She was probably a dancer or maybe an athlete at some point in her past. Her muscles were still strong from something, and her face was always focused, with a constant smile playing around her lips as if she were continually thinking of something that had her amused. He found himself wondering what would amuse such a woman in this situation. She‘d been taken from everything she knew by a man who had just spanked her for disobedience, and yet something was funny? He liked whatever mischievous thought process was going on in there more by the minute. Maybe she was plotting her escape. Never mind, he liked a good chase.

“Have you just fired Hayley?” a voice called loudly through the door. He shook his head to clear it of the interesting little thing in the corner and lifted his head to Emanuelle’s blue eyes and blonde hair. She stormed across to him and began waving her hands around theatrically. One of his better submissives she might have been, but these temper tantrums she was beginning to have on occasion were becoming intolerable. She ran the club; that was all. She certainly did not run him.

“Turn yourself around, and then enter the room correctly.”

“Sir, this is serious. Who else will look after all this, run it? I can’t. I don’t have the brains to, and–”

“Get your scrawny little cunt back out of my office and come in correctly.” He heard the sharp intake of breath from the corner where his new little friend was standing, but kept his focus on Emanuelle. She stopped talking instantly, then stared directly at the floor and slowly backed out of the room. His fingers tapped the table in disgust at her attitude. Beautiful she may have been, and undeniably perfect in her ability to take him with her moaning and groaning, but she was becoming too comfortable in her position. She was beginning to take liberties with a status she was neither given nor entitled to. No one was, only Alexander, and Elizabeth, apparently.

Her body sank to the floor as she hovered outside the door and then knelt at the doorway, waiting for an invitation. Only three people ever walked into his office without invitation – one he’d just sacked, and the other two were gallivanting around New York, without him. And of course, Lilah James had just managed it, somehow. He needed to rectify that at some point in the future when he wasn’t quite so consumed by his overly excitable cock.

“Speak,” he snapped at her as she assumed the perfect submissive position and drew in a long, calming breath before him.

“Sir, please. I am scared, nervous. I am worried for you. Please let me help you. I’ll do anything to help you, you know I will, Sir.” Better, and quite graceful, as usual. He tapped his fingers again and she slowly lifted her gaze until she caught his. He curled his finger at her and she crawled across to him until she was beneath his feet, just where she always looked so enticing. Her long body wrapped itself around his thigh, and the purr of a more relaxed Emmanuelle softened his care for her again. She was his only permanent sub, the only one he’d offered a connection of sorts to, and he kept her from other hands. She was his alone, not for sharing. Not even with Alexander as yet. She lived in his suite here in New York, slept in his bed when he wasn’t here, ran the club, and stayed hidden from prying eyes unless she was working. She had no other status, certainly no hold over him, but she did have a small part of his sadly lacking heart. A degree of care and thought, at least. Until she was given to another anyway.

“Have you been a good girl, kitten?”

“Of course, Sir,” she said as she rubbed her cheek across his thigh and tightened her hold on his hand.” He let go of it and tapped the desk again.

“Hmm, up you go then,” he replied. She purred again and slid her body up against him to get to the surface. “Lilah James, have you ever seen another woman come?” There was another gasp but no other answer so he looked across at her to find her body pressed into the cupboard as she clutched a folder in defence. He chuckled at her and beckoned her over. “Come, watch. Emmanuelle has missed me, haven’t you?”

“I’m not sure. That’s–”

“Now, my dear. I do not expect another reason to punish you.” She looked at him and took a small step forwards so he returned his attentions to his blessed sub. He’d missed her, too, in some ways. She was always so ready to please him, so ready to let him take all he needed from her. A masochist of the highest order, she would have been happy and willing to live on a leash for the rest of her life, if only he had offered it. He never would, though, not to her anyway. She deserved a more loving dominant than him, one who would prize her above all others, and her training with him was coming to an end.

He spread her legs wide as she carefully and quietly lay back on the table in front of him. She had a perfect body, long, lean, toned. Not unlike Miss James really. And her golden tresses fanned out around her picturesque face, highlighting remarkable eyes and an utterly sinful smile, such a potent combination. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an ounce of intellect in her brain, but that meant very little while she was on her knees, and sometimes he needed her quiet mind to help him relax. She pulled her skirt up to her waist and lay there for him as he stared at her and waited for the other woman to arrive. “Come stand in front of me, my dear,” he said as she eventually moved to the side of them and tried to look away.

“I think I’ll just stay over here.”
“Lilah, this will be the last time I ask you pleasantly to do anything. You are here to learn. I will either teach you the easy way or the hard way. Make your choice.”

“I thought we were having something to eat?”

“You are,” he replied as he nodded his head at Emanuelle’s groin. She sneered at him and shook her head at the very thought.

“That’s not a version of seafood I’m interested in,” she drawled, crossing her arms and leaning her backside on his desk.

“She is one of my best. Do you not enjoy her scent?”

“Poor you,” she said, looking at Emanuelle’s face. “And no, I don’t. Does she have anything going on in there at all?” she continued, tapping her own skull. He could have burst into laughter, but the woman was being dishonourable to his little kitten. It didn’t matter how correct she might have been.

“You will apologize, this instant.”

“I will not. I’ll do anything you want me to because I have to, but I won’t apologize for telling the truth. Unless you force me, but then why did you ask my opinion if you weren’t interested in it? I thought you might be less cumbersome with your abilities than this, Sir,” she replied, somehow managing to display her disgust with nothing other than a smile.

He could have been irritated by the response, should have been livid, but for whatever reason, he was indeed questioning why he had asked her opinion on the matter. He stared at her face as she smirked at him and turned her back on Emanuelle’s spread legs. Most women would have been shocked by an exposed woman about to be used in front of them. Not Lilah James, though, it seemed. She was calm and composed, quite beautiful in her arrogance of the situation at hand. And never in his life had he been described as cumbersome. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Cumbersome?” Why he wasn’t beating her ass again for the insult was beyond him. How dare she be so insolent in his presence? And more importantly, why wasn’t Emanuelle writhing beneath him of any interest anymore?

“Yes, cumbersome, or maybe Neanderthal would be more appropriate?”

“Cumbersome and Neanderthal?” He wasn’t aware his feet had moved until he arrived in front of Lilah’s face. She looked up at him, still with that small smile in place and her arms crossed. “How, exactly, have I been either?”

“I was told you would seduce me. This is not seduction. Seduction takes an intellect I’m not sure you actually own. I thought perhaps you did, thought I could see it in you. As you say, I’m sure you’ll fuck me in all sorts of ways, but this,” she said as she waved a hand towards Emanuelle’s prone body, “…is in no way seductive. If I’m going to be the best so that I can make the most money possible and get out of here, I need better instruction than this. Or perhaps you could just pay me to be your secretary, which I would be very good at by the way, and then I wouldn’t have to do any of this crap.”

“This crap?” He was beginning to lose the ability to speak at her impertinence. His hands balled at the same moment his temper began to encroach into the space once more. This crap happened to be his life, and Emanuelle was a very small part of it.

“Yes, crap. Dominant and submissive crap. Who behaves like that? Really? Forcing someone to crawl around on the floor for you is beneath you, or I thought it was.”

“I do not force anyone, my dear. Emanuelle does as she is told because she chooses to yield. As did you when my cock was in your throat ten minutes after we had met.”

“Your cock was down my throat because I find you attractive, and because of that, I was prepared to swallow it. Anything other than that would have been rape. I will never crawl on the floor for a man. I will never ‘yield’ as you put it, certainly not for such an idiotic attempt at seduction anyway. Do you expect me to do that for you? It won’t happen, not unless you have something more interesting to show me.”

He smirked and placed his hands on the desk either side of her. He had lots of interesting things to show her, none of which involved her crawling on the floor. Most of which would result in her crawling on the floor after the event. She didn’t move an inch as he closed the gap slightly and leaned in towards her cheek to smell the essence of her perfume. Oranges, citrus fruits, sweet. Perhaps
Dior
, or possibly
Givenchy
. Elegant.

“Do you like tea, my dear? Hmm? Hot and wet?” he whispered, brushing his skin against hers. Soft, it felt like it had a fine coating of magical dust on it. Delicate and warm, ripe for devouring.

“Yes,” she replied breathily. Immune she was not, and crawl she most definitely would. He stood back and removed his body from hers, then gazed back into those grey green eyes as she stood stock still and maintained eye contact with an amused expression.

“Emanuelle, go and fetch some tea for us, and find out where my food is.”

“But…” He cut her off and snarled without removing his gaze from Lilah. Flicking his hand at the door, he heard a disgruntled mumbling and vaguely noticed Emanuelle stalking away from them.

“Tea?” Lilah said. “And dinner, too. Be careful, Sir. I’ll think we’re on a date.”

He chuckled and rounded the desk to pull out a chair for her. She watched him with interest and raised a brow in confusion as he offered his hand and motioned for her to sit.

“While your spirit deserves either another beating or a well-deserved lesson, I am disinclined to engage with you in any other way than this.”

“You want me to sit and have dinner rather than punishing me?”

“I am not a monster, my dear. And I believe you still require nourishment, hmm? You also need to understand the world you have entered.”