“Fuck you.”
I didn’t understand what I was doing. My sudden anger was inexplicable and a real threat to my true mission. I wanted Alexander to be captivated by me, so enamoured that he would take me to Hanoi with him. Screaming at him, my fists clenched tight, this was not the way to go about it.
He didn’t respond. He gestured instead to my chair. The message was clear. Sit down.
“Or what?” I ground out. “If I don’t sit down and do as I say, you’ll beat me into submission?”
He rose to his feet and there was real anger on his face. I’d finally pushed him enough. I clenched in fear. Relax, I tried to tell myself. You are a fighter. You can take him.
Yet I couldn’t reveal my skills. I was Jenny Fullerton from Cleveland and I was weak. Ellie Samuelson, the woman who had trained and practiced and fought so that she’d never have to return to slavery, had to remain hidden. Whatever Alexander was going to do to me now, I would have to endure or forfeit my revenge against Dylan.
He moved towards me. His hands undid the knot of the dressing gown I’d clad, pushing the fabric away from my shoulders, leaving me naked. He turned me so I was facing the wall and pushed me against it. My cheek rested against the cool paint.
His touch was firm and controlled. I felt a pulse of fear, but it was followed swiftly by a wave of desire.
“Stay still.” The words were an order and it was clear that he expected compliance.
His body pressed against mine. His hand reached out to stroke me, from my back, past my shoulders, then closing around the back of my neck. His knee was wedged between my thighs, holding me open for his pleasure. I was absolutely convinced that the juices from my cunt would stain his linen pants. “When I punish you,” he said, his voice a whisper of promise in my ear. “You will welcome it. Your pleading, pouting lips will voice words of longing. Your body will crave it and so will your mind.”
His grip tightened around my hair and tiny bursts of pain sparkled on my scalp. He bent his mouth towards my face. “But if you think that I’m going to beat you every time we argue, I’m going to disappoint you. The sooner you learn what real submission and dominance is, the quicker we can get on with enjoying this obvious chemistry between us. But I’m not going to bed an angry, scared kitten, Jenny. Doing so will fulfil nothing other than quenching a very momentary need and I’m not a teenager any more, with no control over my desires.”
His words chastened. His body beckoned. Then a knock on the door sounded and he moved away to answer it, leaving me suddenly bereft.
***
The woman who bustled in pulling a clothes rack behind her couldn’t have been over five feet tall. She reminded me a little of Madame Lorraine, though the two looked nothing alike. Perhaps it was the sense of warmth that she radiated.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she greeted Alexander, enveloping him with a hug. “It’s good to see you again.”
I swear Alexander blushed a little. “Hello, Mrs. Suramongkol,” he said, when she’d let him go. “It’s good to see you too. Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.”
She clucked fondly, and I had to wonder once again at Alexander. The guy was clearly a freaking billionaire. Mrs. Suramongkol was obviously ‘help’. Yet he was faultlessly polite, and he moved automatically to help her with the clothes rack so that she wouldn’t have to struggle with it.
I couldn’t lie. I found his good manners off-the-charts hot. When I worked in the mall in Cleveland, I was exposed to a lot of people. Some of them were rude, but a rare few were not. The politeness was always seductive.
A white sheet covered the clothes and Mrs. Suramongkol whisked them off, before turning to me. “You must be Jenny.”
I smiled hesitantly and nodded, but stayed silent. She ran an assessing eye over me, before turning to Alexander with a pleased look. “You got her measurements correct.”
Alexander’s lips twitched and I snorted inwardly. No doubt his ability to judge the measurements of women came from a lot of experience. “I can’t stay,” he told both of us. “Unfortunately, I have to work. Jenny, Mrs. Suramongkol can help you find suitable clothing, but you’ll have to tell her what you like and don’t like.” He fixed me with a slightly mocking look. “That should be good practice for you.”
Asshole. “Yes, Alexander,” I said dutifully instead and his eyes flashed irritated fire at me. Alexander really didn’t seem to like his women meek and cowed.