Betting on Fate (2 page)

A joke if ever there was one because, as far as he knew, she only played Dominant.

There was something about her, though, something that called to him on an instinctive level. He’d never been able to put his finger on exactly what it was about her that never failed to drive him up the wall, and tonight wouldn’t be the night that changed. Will was only on her radar as an obstacle, the same way she was a thorn in his paw. Usually. Right then he was having a hard time remembering why he avoided her.

Before he had a chance to decide what he was going to do, she turned and saw him. The front of her dress dipped down between her breasts, the material following their curve and leaving no doubt that she wore nothing beneath it.

Jesus.

She smiled—he’d seen that expression enough times to know she was about to go in for the kill—and sauntered over to him. “Fancy meeting you here.” Her southern accent was dialed up to an eleven, a sure sign that she was about to insult him. “I was sure you’d be at home, crying into your whiskey bottle about losing another account to me.”

What was she talking about? “You’ve gotten your wires crossed. The Falcon account is
mine
.”

Instead of looking worried, she only smiled wider. “You’re so adorable when you’re being dense.”

“I’m not the dense one in this conversation. John’s going with my company.” A flicker of doubt tried to worm its way through him, but he smashed it. It didn’t matter what information she thought she had—that account belonged to him.

“Are you confident enough to bet on it?”

He wasn’t a betting man. Bets left things up to chance, and Will despised chance and everything else he couldn’t control. He might have John’s assurance that he had this deal, but John must also have said something to Penelope to make her this self assured. What did she know that Will didn’t?

He opened his mouth to make a sharp comment and change the subject, but what came out was, “Of course I am.”

Her dark eyes flashed with victory. “Perfect. When I win, you’ll wear my collar for a week.”

Every part of him rebelled at the thought. Play sub to anyone, let alone
her
? Absolutely not. He didn’t get his rocks off on his knees, and he never would. Will took a deep breath, forcing down his irritation. She might think she had this in the bag, but he would show her otherwise. A low scream cut through the relative quiet of the public play room and they both glanced over to the woman on the spanking bench, her skin already red. Even as they watched, the Domme swung the paddle again, coming down on the sub’s ass with a meaty smack.

He turned to Penelope. “I’ll take that bet, but if you lose, you’re putting yourself in the same position—submissive to me.” Even as he spoke, he knew he should take it back. He might have a pesky desire for the woman, but that didn’t mean he wanted to actually go
there
with her. Except he did. He wanted her obeying his every command, if only because of how much it would piss her off.

He let the words settle between them, taking a perverse delight in the shock on her face.

“I—what?”

He took a step forward, crowding her a little bit. “You’ll be my own personal submissive for seven days.” Will paused, enjoying the way her eyes went wide, but then her reactions actually registered with him—reactions he’d seen too many times to discount. There was no reason for the dilated pupils or the quickened breath or the flush working its way over her skin—no reason except desire. She might hate him, but she
liked
the idea of submitting.
I’ll be damned
. “Unless, of course, you’d rather not risk it?”

Her smile died. “Nice try, sugar. You’re on.” She held out her hand.

Wondering if he was making a horrible mistake, Will took her hand. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her palm was against his, or how she shook a little bit when he tightened his grip briefly. He smiled to himself. Oh, yes. Penelope might be the type to take a man out at the knees, but all signs pointed to her having a submissive streak a mile wide, a submissive streak no one else seemed to know about. The idea of having her on her knees for him had been amusing, if only to tweak her a bit. To have her there and craving his command?
Christ
. The very thought had Will’s body tightening with anticipation.

He couldn’t wait to see her in his collar.

Chapter Two

“It will be a pleasure doing business with you.” Will stood and shook John’s hand, his mind already skipping ahead to the steps necessary to get the renovation portion of the proposal rolling. “I’ll talk to my contractor and have him come give a bid Monday morning.”

“Wonderful.” John laced his hands over his massive stomach. “I look forward to working with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call your competitors and let them know we went in a different direction.”

“Of course.” He didn’t allow himself to smile until he’d cleared the building and was striding down the sidewalk. Though he’d been certain of victory, Will had learned early on that there were no sure things in this world. Winning the bet with Penelope was the icing on the cake. His smile widened as he pictured her reaction to hearing the news.

Unable to help himself, he typed out a quick text.
I expect your list of hard limits in my inbox by noon
. His phone rang almost instantly. “Will Reaver.”

“Did you get it?”

Not Penelope, but his little sister, Sara. He turned the corner and headed uptown. It was blistering cold, but he needed to stretch his legs and work off some of his energy before he sat down and went over the paperwork one final time. “With all those connections you’re so proud of, shouldn’t you already know the answer to that?”

“Naturally, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it from the horse’s mouth. So, horse, speak.”

He chuckled. “I got it.”

She whooped so loudly, he had to hold the phone away from his ear. “I knew it! The Falcon Bar is owned by Emperor. They’re a big deal. They have their little claws in a third of the businesses in Manhattan.”

“I’m aware.” That was part of the reason he’d pulled out all the stops on this proposal. Emperor made a habit of scooping up small businesses, though Will’s sources reported that a full fifteen percent of them failed within their first five years after takeover, which was exactly what had happened with John and Falcon. If Will could prove his value by making the Falcon Bar a success, there was a decent chance they would keep him on retainer and do away with accepting bids from the competition.

“We have to celebrate. Garrett and Ridley just got back from Paris, and you know Dad and Uncle Rodger don’t actually leave the city if they can help it. Family dinner.”

“I already have plans.” Assuming Penelope actually followed through on the terms of the bet.

“That was quick.” She barely paused a beat. “Is it a woman?”

“Sara.”

“It’s a perfectly legitimate question. It’s high time you settled down.”

He snorted. “You first.”

“God forbid. You know better.”

“And so do you.” Relationships weren’t part of the plan. They were full of twists and turns and impossible to ever control fully, and Will had no interest in them. It was a moot point, however. He would have his hands full with Penelope for the next week, and that was sure to keep him distracted from his growing ennui. If not her, then definitely the new account.

Sara sighed. “If I plan something for next Thursday, do you think you can clear your busy schedule?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good boy. Now, I’ve got to go convince a certain Congressman that his indiscretions are going to get him into trouble.”

“Be careful.” Neither Will nor his identical twin, Garrett, had been too thrilled when their baby sister joined Uncle Rodger’s fixer company. Their uncle was more than capable of taking care of himself—and Sara, as well—but even knowing that didn’t quite smother the worry that one of these days she’d go to fix a problem and end up in over her head.

“I’m always careful.” She hung up with a laugh that did nothing to comfort him.

He put it from his mind the same way he did every situation that he couldn’t control. His sister would be fine and the less he knew about what she was doing, the better for his stress level. He hailed a cab and gave the address to his office. Then he sat back and considered what the night might bring.

Would Penelope submit?

That was the question of the hour. He found her as attractive as she was rage-inducing, and he allowed himself a full five minutes to imagine her inky eyes going wide and filling with the distance of sub-space. That expression, the one of blissed out contentment, was something he craved nearly as much as the sight of his markings on a woman’s body. To be allowed to glimpse both on a woman who inspired such conflicting emotions in him?

He wanted that more than he’d expected.

All that remained to be seen was if his instincts about her being a switch were correct. He’d seen her dominate subs from time to time, and she was a natural at it. If she truly had a submissive side… He smiled. He was going to enjoy the hell out of bringing it to the fore.

Will paid the cabbie and climbed out onto the sidewalk. His office was on the small side—just enough room to hold his secretary and an office for himself. If things with Falcon went well, he’d have to expand and bring another consultant on, but for now it was just Marissa and him.

She looked up as he walked through the door. “You got it.”

As if she’d never expected otherwise. “I did.”

“I knew it.” She grinned. “I’ve set up a meeting with you and Jim Jones Monday morning.”

“Thank you.” He moved past her desk and paused in the doorway to his office. “Any calls?”

“Just one. She asked to be put through to your voicemail.”

She
. He would wager he knew exactly who had left a message. “Perfect.” Will shut his door and moved around the desk to sink into his chair. Even though the message light called to him, he forced himself to boot up his computer first. While it went through the start-up process, he listened to the message.

Penelope’s voice slid through the phone, sweet as honey. “I’m not going to back out, despite your underhandedness, but only because, unlike you, I have a shred of honor. Check your email.” She hesitated, and he could almost see her gathering her courage. “But if you believe for a second that you’re going to get a simpering submissive, you have another think coming.”

He carefully replaced the phone in its cradle. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her refusal to roll over and play dead only made the lure stronger.

He logged into his email and saw her note immediately. Will considered it as the document downloaded. This was the deciding factor. Penelope could say that she was adhering to the bet until she was blue in the face, but if she wasn’t honest about her hard limits, she could effectively end this before it began. The document she’d sent was nearly identical to the one Serve used. He found himself holding his breath as he scrolled down the list. There were precious few boxes marked with definitive nos.

Breath play. Blood play. Age play. Fair enough. It was good to know she drew the line somewhere. As for the rest? Sharing and exhibitionism were marked with maybes. Pain play, bondage, and sex were marked with interested.

Will sat back, the room seeming to twist around him. He hadn’t expected this. Hell, he hadn’t dared
hope
for this. She would have been well within her rights to put sex on the hard limit list. To have that avenue suddenly available… He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was going to require more preparation than he’d expected.

A quick check ensured he wasn’t missing anything of importance in his email, and then he surged to his feet and grabbed his coat. Marissa jumped when he opened the door. “I’ve a few errands to run. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and start your weekend early?” He was gone before he heard her answer.

Whether she realized it or not, Penelope had declared her trust in him. Will would have to be a bastard not to reward that. He smiled. He was most definitely a bastard, but he was going to reward her in spite of it.

…

Penelope hugged her coat tighter around her as she stepped out of the elevator. This was actually happening. If she were a smarter woman, she would have found some sort of loophole that would let her off the hook, but the truth was that she hadn’t tried too hard.

If she backed out of this bet now, she’d never live it down.

Or that was what she told herself.

She’d been relieved when she’d gotten the second text from Will, commanding her to meet him at Serve. He had an excellent reputation, but that didn’t mean she’d be comfortable showing up at his house at ten o’clock at night. Serve was the better—safer—option. Triple checking the phone, she headed down the hallway to the private rooms. Though she knew of them—some were owned by the more prominent Doms at Serve—she’d never had the pleasure.

It took more courage than she could have dreamed to open the door and step into the shadows. Penelope blinked, trying to find her bearings. There was a bed pushed against the far corner and what looked for all the world like a small sitting room arranged next to it—two small sofas, each with their own end tables and lamps. One of them was occupied, and Will drew her attention like a moth to the proverbial flame. He didn’t say anything, simply raised his hand in an unspoken command.

She forced herself to remain where she was, mostly to prove to herself that she could. “Will.”

“Come here, Penelope.”

Instead she turned to examine the bedding. There was no comforter, which wasn’t surprising since she doubted anyone ever actually slept in it, and the sheets were silk. Of course they were. She moved closer and ran her finger along the deep green fabric. “Fancy.”

“You’re late.”

Yes, she was. A small defiance as such things went, but she wasn’t about to show up exactly on time. It would make it seem as if she were looking forward to the next seven days—which she most certainly wasn’t. She laced her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see them shake and turned to face him. “Traffic was a bear.”

“And here I thought you were showing up late to be deliberately disobedient.” The small smile that pulled at his lips made her stomach leap. He didn’t
look
angry—or even bothered. Instead, he looked like she’d just delivered him a delightful gift. Pity. Will motioned her closer. “Sit down. That’s a direct order, Penelope.”

The only alternative was to stand by the door while they had this discussion, which had already started to feel ridiculous. Her heels sunk into the thick carpet as she crossed to him, her nerves piping up as she got within touching distance. Was she supposed to kneel? Join him on the couch? Strip? It struck her that she was totally and completely out of her element. She may have dominated plenty of subs over the years, but she’d never been on this side of things. Going from Domme to scening with the Ice King, let alone as
his
submissive, was like going from the kiddie pool to being thrown off the high dive. Had she really thought she could handle this? She was so far in over her head it wasn’t even close to funny.

Will’s face was mostly in shadow, but apparently he could see her expression just fine. “Take a deep breath, Penelope. I’m not going to bend you over the arm of this couch and fuck you until you beg for mercy.”

The
yet
hung unspoken between them.

She fiddled with the buttons of her coat. “I think this is the first time I’ve heard you swear.”

“It won’t be the last.” He motioned to the spot on the couch next to him. With his arms over the back of the sofa, it would put them entirely too close together. There would be no way to avoiding touching him.

She
laughed softly. Avoiding touching him? She’d agreed to act as submissive to his Dominant for a week. There was going to be a significant amount of touching going on. Her heart sped up at the thought of his big hands on her, even as she told her heart that it was a fool.

She sank onto the spot he’d indicated, taking the opportunity to study him. She’d never seen Will in anything but suits, and tonight was no exception. The only concession he’d made to the late hour was leaving a few shirt buttons undone, showcasing a delicious slice of his throat and upper chest. She realized she was staring, but refused to drop her gaze. “Let’s get this negotiation out of the way.”

“Penelope, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that you’re in charge.”

No, she wasn’t. She was just scrambling to keep as much control as she possibly could. The thought of giving him… everything… made her both hot and cold, all at the same time. “It’s customary to talk before we start.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and she forced herself to relax and pretend her nerves weren’t strung tight. Finally Will said, “I received your list. Is there anything you’d like to add to it?”

She thought back over the list. When she’d been going through them, she’d done her best to be honest. There were plenty of things on that list that made her nervous to be on the receiving end, but only a small handful that sent her into a full on panic.
The whole point of a healthy BDSM pairing was that the people involved were perfectly honest with each other. She might dislike Will on a personal level, but she couldn’t think of a single sub he’d mistreated.

“I don’t…” Her stupid pride made her want to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t lie to him. Not about this. “I’m not sure I’m into anything beyond midway through the pain scale—light flogging and paddling.” She’d never used a toy on a sub that she hadn’t used on herself, and pain could be used to make pleasure sharper, but she wasn’t a true masochist.

“Understood.” He considered her. “You realize you’re allowing for sex of all flavors.”

Was she supposed to restrict that? Heat rushed to her face, a toxic combination of shame and embarrassment. “Yes, well—”

His finger against her lips stopped her words. “Do you want to take sex off the list?”