Like a lion roaming the savanna taking in his domain.
His father didn’t understand this feeling.
He wanted it, even so far as convinced himself he had it, but deep down he knew he wasn’t strong enough to earn it.
“Hey,” she called after he seated her and took the chair at the angle to hers.
Stellan looked at her, saw his mark at her neck, and felt his cock stirring lazily at the memory of how it happened and the knowledge that every man whose eyes followed her to that table, every man who was surreptitiously watching them now, knew how she’d earned his mark.
As much as he liked that, he also saw her throat bare and decided to have collars custom-made just like the one she’d worn Saturday night, but in real rose gold. And yellow gold. And platinum.
“You okay?” she asked.
He took his napkin, shook it out, and put it on his lap.
Then he turned again to her.
“I’m never going to be my father,” he announced.
Her chin jerked back into her neck, and her brows drew straight down like she’d personally been insulted.
“Of course you’re not,” she snapped.
His father didn’t understand that kind of reaction either.
“Damn, I’m sorry, Stellan,” she said quietly, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around the side of his hand. “The stuff that came up this morning is messing with—”
He turned his hand and gripped her fingers hard.
“It’s not.”
Her fingers gripped hard back.
And his father would never have that either.
“Then why are you talking about it?” she asked.
A server approached.
Stellan stared him down.
The server retreated.
Stellan looked back at Simone.
“My assistant means the world to me, and I’d like for us to have dinner with her and her husband, perhaps next week.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
Whether her hesitancy came from the change of subject or his statement, it didn’t matter.
She was meeting Susan, and they were done discussing his father.
“I order for you,” he instructed. “Before the server returns, tell me what you want to drink, and before he comes back, tell me what you want to eat. You sit there owned by me tonight, darling.”
Her fingers tensed in his, she wriggled a little on her seat, heat flared in her eyes, and she repeated, quieter this time, “Okay, baby.”
He liked her response.
And he was very much looking forward to that weekend when he’d be breaking her into that part of their lives.
But they had other things to get straight.
“I asked Aryas to help us find Ami a Mistress. He’s good for another session or two with you, but that’s all, Simone. For his sake, you’ll need to cut him loose. We’ll find a way to meet that need for you, but you’ll be losing Ami. You decide the when, you can have him in a playroom at the Honey with the blinds down or my playroom at home. Either way, I’ll be with you. Watching.”
“You have a playroom at your house?”
“I should have given you the full tour. I’ll do that tonight when we return home.”
She gave him her cat’s smile, and again he didn’t know if she was giving it because she wanted him to play with her there, or if she wanted to play there.
That didn’t matter either.
“I’ll be dismantling it, Simone. When I work you, the way I’ll work you, it’ll be in our home and in our bed. We’ve got the resources to assuage your alternate needs, and when we want a change of scenery, we have the resources to find that too.”
She nodded and held fast to his hand, her expression turning searching.
“Stellan, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. There’s no reason not to be. I’m a man who has everything,” he replied.
“Seemingly,” she returned. “But no one can have everything.”
He stared her straight in the eye, squeezed her fingers tight, and repeated, “I’m a man who has everything.”
She understood him, he knew, because her gaze grew warm, her face soft.
But her lips murmured, “God, you’re impossible.”
“How’s that?”
“You know that happy you’re so determined for me to have?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Well,” she started like she was grousing, “I’m actually beginning to see the path, it is bright and cheery, which means you were right, within less than forty-eight hours, and that’s annoying.”
As he was finding he often did with Simone …
Stellan burst out laughing.
nine
A Force onto Him
SIXX
Sixx sat in her car, her digital camera with the long telephoto lens attached to it up and aimed.
Thus she took a variety of pictures of the man who was doing yardwork two houses down—mowing the lawn, blowing debris, bending, bagging and hefting the bags into the back of his truck.
When she had a number of snaps, she lowered the camera and muttered, “People are so stupid.”
Particularly that man, who had taken yardwork-for-cash jobs when he was alternately suing his employer for supposed injuries on a manual labor job that left him physically unable to work, at the same time collecting disability checks from the government.
What was on her camera meant at least the lawsuit was over.
Now she needed to send the photos to the attorney on the case, check her email, and tie things up for the weekend.
And considering she didn’t have a workspace at the firm, mostly since her work happened in the field, if she had to hook in she usually opened her laptop in a coffeehouse or bar somewhere. This was because she didn’t have Wi-Fi at her “hovel.”
But since she was done for the day, she decided she’d just go back to Stellan’s and deal with everything (he did have Wi-Fi, and about a gazillion Wi-Fi extenders, so it was fast as a shot throughout the house). He’d be home soon anyway, and then they could have dinner, hang, fuck, sleep, and then …
She stilled her mind, set her camera on the passenger seat, and shifted the Cayenne into drive, putting her foot on the gas to head to Stellan’s.
It was Friday.
The end of the best week of her life.
Bar none.
So much the best, it blasted everything out of the water.
Not that there was much competition.
It was just that living with Stellan was …
Sublime.
It was not a surprise the man was phenomenally talented in bed. She’d only seen him at play, but what she’d seen, the veneration in which his subs held him, that two and two definitely equaled four million, and the reality proved that.
But it wasn’t that.
It was that he thought she was funny.
God, every time she made him laugh, she felt like a god, like she’d wrought some miracle.
He was happy. Happy to be with her.
She’d never made anyone happy in her entire life.
She was a definite smartass, so she’d had occasion to make people laugh.
But it was different with Stellan.
It moved her completely that she could give that to him.
It was … she couldn’t describe it even in her head.
It just meant everything that she could make Stellan happy.
The rest, regardless of how much of it there was, and there was a lot, was frosting.
Not the sex. Sex with Stellan was definitely moist, rich, delicious cake.
But the rest felt like she was on a game show, and she’d jumped through all the hoops to win the million-dollar prize, and then the confetti dropped and the band played and she’d been told she’d also won the fabulous all-expenses-paid vacation to Italy, the new car and the yacht.
Seriously, he looked like he looked, dressed like he dressed, fucked like he fucked … and the man could cook and he liked to cook, but mostly, he liked to cook for her.
He also adored his assistant, spoke about her like she was a beloved member of his family, with humor and devotion in his voice and a look on his handsome face that Sixx felt pierce right through her heart (in a good way) and warm her down deep in her belly.