A Dom Is Forever (22 page)

“Good. Because I intend to get your ass as pretty and pink as any strawberry.”

“Now wait a minute,” she said with a laugh. “I was talking about the flavor.”

“Yeah, I’ll get some more of that, too, baby. Though you really taste more like honey.” He yawned again.

He was such a dirty man, and she wouldn’t have him any other way. She got out of bed, reaching for her robe.

“No.” His body was laid out on the bed, but his eyes were on her.

“No?”

“No robe. No clothes. Stay naked for me.”

“You’ll be asleep.”

“And you’re alone in this apartment. Stay naked and think of me. If someone comes to the door you can have a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt to put on but no panties and no bra. Is that understood?”

She bit her bottom lip at the thought of walking around in her birthday suit. It seemed weird. “Is this that
BDSM
stuff?”

A single eye opened, but it was enough to send a little thrill through her. “Yes. This is that
BDSM
stuff, love. Obey me or we’ll talk about your punishment.”

The way he said the word “punishment” made it sound like it wouldn’t be such a horrible thing. Still. “All right. But can we talk about the bra?” Her boobs were really too big to leave swinging.

His eyes shut again. “I don’t know. Can we talk about anal plugs?”

So no bra then. “I’m good.”

“Thought you would be.” He sighed and turned, giving her a view of the most amazing backside she’d ever seen.

Ass. It was a gorgeous ass. Her boyfriend had a really great butt.

She quietly pulled her workout pants and a T-shirt out of her dresser and made her way to the shower.

* * * *

Thomas Molina stared at the report in front of him. No pictures yet, just a bunch of numbers and places and dates that made up the seemingly dull life of one Lee Aaron Donnelly. His Texas driver’s license photo was so grainy Thomas could barely make it out.

According to everything Malcolm had dug up in the last eighteen hours, Lee Donnelly was nothing. He had a paltry eight thousand dollars in his checking account and twenty in savings. He owned a small company that specialized in customizing kitchens, but he’d left it in the hands of his partner back in the States while he roamed around England.

He was a nobody.

And he was the man who had fucked Avery Charles the night before.

He’d listened in, his cock getting hard even as his stomach rolled. Avery had been quite the whore. He was rather sad that he hadn’t wired the flat for video, then he would have been able to watch her slut it up.

“I also got the article to Brandon Charles’s parents.” Malcolm sat across from him, one eyebrow cocked in obvious curiosity. “Any reason why they care about Doctors Without Borders recruiting newbie surgeons?”

Oh, they would care. They would care quite a bit, and hopefully it would prod them to contact Avery and give her a little hell. She needed to remember who she bloody well was and what she’d done.

He needed her world crumbling so she would remember who she could count on. And when her new boyfriend disappeared, she wouldn’t have anyone to turn to except her friend.

“That is none of your concern.” Malcolm didn’t need to know the whys and wherefores. He only needed to do his job. “Were you able to follow him last night?”

It had been a bit odd.
Loverboy
Lee had put Avery in bed and then walked around the flat for a few minutes before walking out. At first he’d smiled, absolutely sure that Avery had just gotten what she deserved. She’d fucked some random asshole, and he’d taken what he wanted and walked on her.

He’d actually gone to sleep with visions of a weepy Avery regretting the whole night.

But the bastard had been gone for hours only to come back and get into bed with her again. And fuck her again.

He hadn’t sounded like a man who intended to leave. He’d sounded like a pervert who had found a good thing and was going to dig in. He’d fucked her and ordered her to walk around without any clothes. Again, this was where video would have been more desirable.

Malcolm frowned. “No. There was a crowd outside a pub next to her flat. I lost him. I waited and picked him back up. It appeared he’d gone to some sort of store. You know, the kind with brown paper bags. He also had a bunch of flowers. No idea why it took him bloody hours. Guess he had to find one that was open.”

Molina could just guess what was in that brown paper bag. Sex toys. Donnelly had mentioned a club, and they had talked about
BDSM
. Donnelly had given her some fucking hearts and Dom-shaped flowers spiel about taking care of her and how sex was meant for two. Pussy. Donnelly was only playing at being a Dom, and he didn’t understand the meaning of sex at all.

Sex was a way for the female to justify her existence. Sex was a way for the male to control and conquer.

She would finally understand what sex meant when he got Avery under him.

“Do you want me to take him out?” Malcolm asked.

“Eventually, but I don’t want Avery around when you do it. And get me some pictures of this bastard that aren’t so grainy I can’t see them. Have you run a trace on Lachlan Bates?” It was time to get down to the real business. He met with Eli Nelson in a couple of days. He wanted to know whether he should kill the motherfucker.

“He’s legit,” Malcolm replied. “He’s got vested interests in that part of Africa. He’s attempting to arm the rebels because he wants to control resources there. You’ll find his real name and a dossier on his company in the email I sent to your tablet.”

Excellent
. Then Nelson was providing an actual service. He didn’t like the fact that Nelson was demanding fifteen percent, but then this was a big deal. He could afford to be generous. For now. And perhaps Nelson could help him with the Donnelly problem. Something about the man didn’t sit well.

“Set up an account. I’ll write a report and decline Mr.
Bates’s
donation on the basis that he doesn’t fit the criteria. I’ll bury it. Avery got wind of this one, but in this case, her new fuck toy will prove an adequate distraction. And let Monica know that the next time she allows one of our donors to go through, I will slit her throat in the middle of the night.”

He was still thinking about it. When he had Avery in place, it wouldn’t matter. She would obey him or he would kill her.

“I’ll make sure she knows.” Malcolm said it with a slight smile. He was a man who seemed to enjoy his work. “And I’ll set up the shipment. We have a relief package going out soon. I can have the
P90s
and the
C4
ready in a few days. The surface-to-air will take a little longer. And the land mines are already in stock.”

“Get those surface-to-air missiles or we’re fucked. We need to prove we can get our hands on them. My contact promised me some rich Middle Eastern buyers, but we need the
SAMs
.” He’d made a name for himself. He’d gotten rich, but the Middle East was fucking Broadway to the arms dealer. If he made it there, he could make it anywhere. And it would provide him with enough money to buy a fucking island and kill anyone he wanted to.

It would put him so far from his disgusting, rat-infested childhood.

“I will.” Malcolm stood. “And I’ll take out Donnelly when the time is right. What do you want me to do about that MI6 agent who keeps sniffing around Avery?”

Thomas smiled. “Well, he’s not going to be a problem, is he? He never climbed into her bed. He’s got a bunch of nothing, and he knows it. Simon Weston is an idiot. He’s a poor little rich boy playing at being James Bond. He’s more dangerous if we snuff him out. We know what he is. He has no idea what’s happening. Leave him be for now.”

Simon Weston was a child trying to play a man’s game. He would die in the end, but not until Thomas didn’t have another option. He didn’t play a bad hand until he was forced to.

He’d sacrificed too much, fought too hard.

And he was so close to becoming King of the Mountain. No MI6 agent was going to hold him back. And he was going to have his queen. No asshole, shitfaced, nothing construction worker was going to keep him from her.

He would make her pay, though.

Malcolm nodded and walked out. Thomas went back to looking at that file and thinking about just how much he’d like to hurt the bastard.

* * * *

Avery winced as she opened the door and really wished she’d pushed back on the bra thing. She felt like an idiot, but she wasn’t about to walk downstairs to meet her guest, and she couldn’t exactly turn him away. When the concierge had called and told her Simon was downstairs, she’d thought about it, though. But they were too close to the Black and White Ball, and Simon was crucial to the success.

“Hey.”

Her eyes widened as she took in Simon Weston. He was dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, but he had his briefcase in hand. God, she really wished she had the bra on. There was no way to hide it. Her boobs were too big. “Hi. What did you need?”

His eyes narrowed marginally. “Are you busy with something? I can come back later.”

She was being so rude. “Of course not. Please come in. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He walked in, his big body filling her hallway. “Not a problem. I just talked to Monica and the string quartet canceled. She’s in a panic, and her sister is having a baby. I told her I would bring the CDs of the other options over here and have you decide. The ball is your thing after all.”

She sighed. “Thomas wanted me to put it together. I told him that party planning isn’t exactly my thing. I hired a party planner, but Thomas didn’t like the music he chose. I’ve been trying to find one he’ll like. That’s why I’ve been leaning on Monica. She’s into the same kind of music. I really appreciate you bringing them over.”

She took the four CDs out of his hands.

“No problem. I wasn’t doing anything else this afternoon. Just getting ready for the yearly audit. So much fun, you know.”

And she’d been walking around her house naked. It had been odd at first, but then she’d gotten used to it. After her shower, she’d done some laundry and baked a batch of cookies. She’d been deeply aware of everything around her. It had been a freeing experience.

But now she was right back to feeling self-conscious. And why? She wasn’t a kid. She didn’t have a thing to prove to Simon. She was his colleague. It didn’t matter if he thought she looked ridiculous without a bra. Lee liked it. Lee was her lover. In this case, his opinion was the only one that mattered. She could crawl back into her shell or she could start taking herself seriously for once.

“The audit sounds perfectly horrible,” she admitted. Simon was a smart man. He probably knew way more about string quartets than she did. “Any way I could convince you to stay and give me your opinion on these? I’m afraid if you leave it up to me, I’ll pick based on
eeny
,
meeny
,
miny
, and
moe
. Actually, that would make a good name for a string quartet.”

He laughed, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “Which just shows how desperately you need me. That’s a horrible name for what should be a very posh musical group. Don’t you know they’re all named something like the Bachman-Barnes Quartet or The Buckingham Strings?”

For the first time ever, she felt comfortable with him. “Yeah, I’m more a rock and roll girl. So stay and help me. I can pay you in oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I put the oatmeal in so I can eat them for breakfast and still hold my head up. Because of the oatmeal.”

“So you eat like a five-year-old. I like it.” Simon winked at her as she led him into the small room that served as both dining and living room. His eyebrows rose at the sight of a leather jacket draped across one of the dining room chairs. “New coat?”

She wrinkled her nose his way. She wasn’t going to hide the fact that she now had a love life. “That belongs to Lee.”

Simon chuckled a little as he crossed to her CD player. “So you found a boyfriend?”

“I did. He’s asleep.” She grabbed the cookies and brought them out. “Do you want some tea?”

“Coffee, please. I got used to it when I went to school in Boston.” The smooth sounds of a violin filled the air. “I’m going to turn it up a bit so we can get the full effect.”

Lovely music filled the space. And it was a bit loud. She started the coffeemaker. In seconds, it had filled the cup.

“I like it,” she shouted over the music. She wasn’t sure why he needed it so loud, but he seemed content.

He gave her a thumbs-up and grabbed a cookie. She sat on the couch next to him. He leaned over. “Mozart. They’re quite good, but the cellist is slightly out of time.”

She couldn’t hear it. It all sounded nice to her.

“Hey, I was getting everything ready for this audit thing, and I can’t find a couple of files.” He’d moved close, leaning over to talk in her ear. “Do you know if Molina keeps files in his office?”

“Which ones?” She asked, her voice rising.

“
Uhm
, let me try to remember. Oh, I wrote them down.” He grabbed a folder out of his briefcase and handed it over. “I’ve been looking for them because I need to reconcile the accounts with the donors.”

She looked at the names, a little chill going through her. Bates. Hughes. McMillian.

Hughes and McMillian were donors Thomas had turned down for various reasons. Bates was the current file he was paying close attention to. The three donors he’d met with personally. The only files he kept in his office. Why did those files keep coming up? It was Thomas’s company. He could turn down a donation if he wanted to. It wasn’t her place to question him. And yet she found herself curious. “I’ll check on it for you.”

She kind of wanted to get a look at those files. Why had her boss turned them down? When she’d asked, he’d blown her off saying they didn’t meet the criteria, but she wasn’t sure what the criteria was. Why was there a criteria at all? Money was just money.

Maybe there were tax implications. But the real thing that bugged her was the personal meetings. Molina always met with them personally before turning down their large donations.