Craving HIM (Serving HIM Vol. 7) (15 page)

We discussed a few more details, making sure we had everything smoothed out and settled by the time we finished. I’d no more put down the phone when Amber knocked. She slipped inside without waiting for an answer and I leaned back, studying her face.

She was upset.

“What’s wrong?”

She shot a look back over her shoulder and I could feel myself getting tense. Amber had been my administrative assistant for nearly five years now and had dealt with a lot. She didn’t rattle easily.

“It’s Mitchell Pence.” She folded her hands in front of her and met my eyes.

Immediately, I had to fight the urge to spit out something ugly. “Oh?”

“He’s here and he wants a meeting. He’s very…adamant.” Her gaze darted past me before coming back to meet mine. “He gave me the impression that you’ll be very unhappy if you don’t hear his proposal. He says it's a personal matter.”

The fuck probably wanted to sue me. I wasn't really worried though. If he took me to court, I'd have no problem taking the security tape from my safe and making sure the media got ahold of it so everyone would know just what kind of man Mitchell Pence was.

“Have security on standby,” I said, waving her on. “They can throw him out before I’m tempted to tear him apart.”

She nodded and slipped out.

A moment later, Pence came striding in.

He was a smarmy, lazy, ass-kissing piece of shit and he was fond of putting his hands on women, whether they wanted him to or not.

He’d tried to put his hands on Aleena.

I should have broken each and every bone in those hands.

I was still considering it.

“Dominic—”

“Mr. Snow,” I corrected. “My friends call me Dominic, Pence, and you’re not one of them.”

The jovial smile on his face faltered slightly, an ugly glint darkening his eyes before he got himself together. “See, that’s why I’m here. We got off on a bad foot and I wanted to try over. I’m not a bad guy…Snow.”

The pause was deliberate.

“I think I’d disagree with you, but I'd rather just move this along so you can get the hell out of my office. What do you want?” I curled one hand into a fist and tapped it lightly on the arm of my chair as I studied Pence. His smile was too bright, too white and too fake. When he focused it on me again, I was sorely tempted to call Amber and have security haul his sorry ass out.

He settled in a seat, hitching up his trousers as he lowered himself. “I have a business proposal for you.”

“Not interested.” Leaning forward, I smiled. “Get out.”

“Don’t be so hasty.” Pence chuckled. “You haven’t even heard my proposal, and I think you should at least do that. I mean, it would be a shame if I were so upset about being thrown out that I might let a few things slip— things that could be problematic for this lovely new charity you're starting. After all, who would want to give money to a pervert?”

For a long moment, I glared at him. I was getting tired of people acting like my sexual interests were something I needed to be ashamed of. I'd kept things quiet because I didn't want to deal with this shit, but lately I'd been wondering if it wouldn't just be worth it to say I enjoyed bdsm and let it run its course. If Pence thought he could blackmail me into working with him, I might just put in a call to a local reporter right now.

“I hate repeating myself so I'll only be doing it this once. Not interested. Get out.”

Pence stood, that sly grin still firmly in place. “Are you sure?” He shrugged one shoulder and said, “I’ve gotta say, I can see why you were so possessive of that hot little piece…what’s her name? Andrea? Alexa? Aleena…yeah, that’s it. She sure as hell squeals when you’re fucking her up the ass.”

I lunged for him over the table, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him towards me.

His face was red as he struggled against my grip. “You lay a hand on me,
Dominic
, and the videos I got? They go straight online. The whole world will see how you like beating women, how you like to make them beg. Better than that, they'll see how much
she
likes it.”

Blood roared in my ears and my vision went a sort of hazy red.

It took everything I had to let go of his shirt, but it was either that…or kill him.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

Pence looked pleased with himself as he smoothed his shirt down. “I have videos of the two of you. I can’t decide which one I like the best though. Her screaming when you're fucking her ass, or when you're using that whip on her. Maybe that one, since you'd just gotten back from your precious fundraiser. Those nipple clamps must've done a number on her tits.”

I backed away, struggling to breathe. I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t a violent man. More than once, I’d fantasized about killing the man who’d kidnapped and tortured me, and lately I’d be fantasizing about what I’d do to the men who’d been behind the baby-snatching ring.

But I’d never wanted to hurt anybody so much as I wanted to hurt Mitchell Pence.

I wanted to hear him screaming. Wanted to see him begging. And I’d still hurt him. Kill him.

He turned and walked toward the door. “I’ll see myself out. The cute girl at the desk has my number. You might want to give me a call within the next seven days. I want two million dollars. Otherwise, the whole world is going to see how much your little whore loves it when you hurt her.”

Chapter 13

Aleena

The sound of the door slamming open had me jerking upright from where I’d been slumped over my desk, going blind over forms.

A loud crash followed and I grabbed my phone as I crept over to the door of the office to peek into the hallway. The sound was coming from the living room and I slowly made my way towards it. Stupid, probably, but I had to see.

Had somebody broken in? How did they get past…?

It was Dominic.

A vase of flowers had been upended, both glass and petals scattered everywhere, water soaking into the thick carpet.

A painting I knew he loved lay on the floor, canvas ripped.

I froze there as he spun around, adrenaline flooding my body as I took in the look on his face. I’d seen him angry, hurt, happy. I'd even seen him vulnerable.

I’d never seen him like this.

His eyes were wild, so wide I could see the white all around that vivid blue. His face was all but devoid of color and his lips were peeled back from his teeth in a furious snarl.

“D—”

That was all I got out of him before he turned back to what looked to be a deliberate destruction of the living room. I cringed against the doorframe as he grabbed a heavy bronze statue of a nude woman kneeling and drew back his arm to throw it.

What was going on?

He stopped and I watched as he lifted it, turning it over.

“I fucking knew it!”

Those were the first words he’d spoken and the savage fury in his voice turned my blood to ice. What in the hell was wrong? Something was. Something was very wrong.

I braced myself to see the heavy piece of bronze go flying but to my surprise, he lowered it gently, almost carefully. Then he left the room. Part of me just wanted to stay where it was safe, but that thought broke through my paralysis. Dominic was where I was safe. He had to be. I followed.

When he stopped in the play room, the room where he tied me up and destroyed me and then made me whole again, I started to shake. I didn't understand what he was doing or why, but I knew it was something bad.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I sagged against the wall and watched as he began another search. This one was far more…narrow. I could think of no other way to describe it as he began to pick up seemingly random objects.

This room had a lot in it, but it wasn't like the rest of the place with artwork and lamps and things like that. It served one main purpose, so it held few decorative items. Everything else was functional. The bed. The bench where he bound me. The chest of drawers that held his toys.

He didn't go to any of those though. Instead, he went to the opposite side of the room where there was a glass case that held a few pieces that we considered art, but not anything we'd have available for public viewing. An ancient whip, the cords made of silk, an old pair of leather wrist restraints. And then there was a statuette, wooden and carved by hand, gleaming with a mellow sheen. It was old. I didn’t know how old, but I knew Dominic was fond of that piece.

It was a woman, bound to a platform arms stretched overhead. Her face was a study in exquisite anticipation, the details so fine, I could see her eyelashes and brows.

Dominic stared at it for a long, long moment and then slowly, he lowered it, putting it back in its place but facing the opposite way.

“Dominic, what’s going on?” I had to force the question out of a throat gone tight with dread. The feeling only got worse when he turned to look at me, eyes glittering and burning bright. “You're scaring me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice raw.

“Dominic?”

There was a knot in my throat and when he came toward me, I saw him through a blur. Blinking back the tears, I held still as he lifted his hands to cup my face, his touch gentle.

“I didn't mean to scare you, love.” He folded me into his arms and kissed the top of my head before pulling me back so we could look at each other. His eyes were filled with anger and pain. “Somebody has been watching us, Aleena. Recording us.”

The words didn’t make any sense at first, bouncing around inside my head and then, slowly, they settled into a weird, terrible sort of logic. My gaze strayed past him to the glass case, the statuette.

“Tell me what’s going on.” My lips were stiff, my face oddly numb.

And he did.

Quickly and succinctly, he told me everything. When he finished, I backed away and he let me go. I ran down the hall, not sure if I was going to make it. He came up behind me as I bent over the toilet and vomited.

I wretched again and again and he stayed there, bent over me, holding my hair out of my face, free hand making soothing circles on my back. I could barely breathe and my stomach ached. Tears streamed down my cheeks and he kept wiping them away.

“I'm so sorry.” His voice was a broken whisper. “Please forgive me. Please.”

His pain was the only thing that could get through to me and I closed my eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

“Don’t,” I said quietly as he started to apologize again.

I rose and went to the sink while he fell quiet behind me. I brushed my teeth and rinsed out the acrid tinge of sickness. I used almost a quarter of a bottle of mouthwash and my entire mouth was tingling by the time I finished.

As I was washing my face, I felt him come up behind me, but there was a careful sort of distance there, as if he wasn't sure if his presence was welcome. I took one more minute to calm my brain and focus. I needed to make sure he understood what I was feeling. Then I turned and faced him.

He opened his mouth to say something—no doubt another apology—and I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to me. The fury of my actions seemed to catch us both off-guard, but I didn’t back down.

“Don’t!” I said again. I made my voice as firm and fierce as I could. “You didn’t do this. If anybody is going to be sorry, it’s the sick bastard who did it.”

My voice cracked and when he drew me up against him, I let him. I began to cry, a real cry that had nothing to do with the violence of being sick. He murmured soft words into my hair as his hands stroked up and down my back. I couldn't really make out what he was saying, but the sound of his voice was enough.

I cried until I was empty and then he tipped my chin until his eyes could meet mine.

“You need to pack,” he said softly. His eyes left my face to roam around the bathroom. “We’re not staying here until I know it's safe.”

***

At any other time, the rich opulence of Masque Manhattan would have made me smile in delight, but now, all I could do was curl up in the low, fat chair by the window and stare out over the skyline. Dominic always made sure one of the top rooms at all of his hotels was left empty in case he needed it. I was willing to bet he'd never thought he'd need it for something like this.

On the way over, I’d asked why this was happening. Who could do something like this? I truly didn’t understand that kind of mind that would set out to torment people like this, play those kind of games. That had been when it had hit me.

Mitchell wasn't a game kind of guy. Yes, he was a lecherous, horrible, bastard of a man, but he didn't play games. He was about as subtle as...well, I wasn’t able to think of anything even close to describing just how not subtle he was.

Dominic was speaking quietly on the phone, and I tried to block the conversation out of my head. He'd already been talking to whoever it was when I'd gotten out of the shower. That had been the first thing I'd done when we'd gotten here. Taken a shower as hot as I could stand and scrubbed my skin until it was red. Now I was wrapped in a soft cotton robe, smelling like soap and shampoo, but I still didn't feel clean.

I kept asking who and why, and I kept coming back to only a handful of people. Logic narrowed it down even further. I was trying to be objective. While I had my fair share of people who weren't exactly fond of me, it was entirely possible this was all about Dominic and had nothing to do with me.