Flesh: Part Fourteen (The Flesh Series Book 14) (3 page)

“
So,
what did you want to talk about?” Lucian takes another sip of
his wine before setting down his glass and looking across the table
at me.

“
Maybe
you should go first.” I wrinkle my nose.

We definitely don't
have the same taste in wine. Lucian seems to prefer dry reds while I
like sweet Moscato. Still, alcohol is alcohol, and I'm going to need
liquid courage to get through this conversation.

“
I'd
rather save mine for last.”

“
Why?”
I swallow hard, feeling the warmth that the wine causes in my chest.
There's no doubt that it will be going to my head shortly if I don't
get some food in me.

“
Because
it's very personal in nature,” he leans in and whispers as if
it's some big secret.

“
So
is mine, kinda.” I pick up my glass and swirl the wine, more to
distract myself than anything else.

“
You
go. I'm interested in what you have to say.”

“
Fine.”
I take a deep breath before setting my glass down. There's no
tasteful way to approach the subject, so I just go for it. “I
need you to speed things up on your interior design project.”

“
Why?”
His expression turns suspicious.

“
Because
my boss is putting pressure on me, wondering why it's been so long
since we've had contact with you. I mean, you haven't even been
answering the emails I've sent you.” I glance away, trying not
to seem upset, though stress is apparent in my voice.

“
I'm
the client.” Lucian's head bobs slightly in arrogance. “It's
your company's job to please me.”

“
My
company has been trying to please you for a month now. Hell, it might
be even longer than that. This is the longest project in this history
of Environ Design. We've done huge office buildings that have only
taken a fraction of the time.”

“
I'm
special.” He lifts his glass again and takes another drink.

“
You're
stubborn.” I narrow my eyes at him. “We both know that
you don't need to see every piece of furniture in person. It doesn't
look any different from the catalog.”

“
It's
not the way it looks but the way it feels. I'm a very picky man. You
should know this by now.”

“
Infuriatingly
so,” I mutter.

I see the waiter
approaching in my peripheral vision with two plates. I expect him to
divert to another table, but instead he stops in front of us, serving
us both. I stare down at my plate with my mouth agape. It looks like
some kind of meat in a stew of vegetables with a side of green beans
and what appears to be mashed potatoes. Lucian's dish is different
than mine, but even more unrecognizable. A mix of meat and herbs and
mushy black things.

“
You
ordered for me?” I ask as soon as the waiter is out of earshot.

“
Mhm.”
Lucian grabs his fork, acting like it's no big deal.

“
This
place doesn't have menus?”

“
It
does. I just took the liberty of ordering for you.” He stabs at
a bite-sized piece of meat.

Never before has a
man ordered for me. This is stuff I've only read about in books and
seen in movies. It's just not normal or right. How does he know I'll
even like this?

Gingerly, I pick up
my knife and fork to cut into the meat, identifying it as chicken.
“What is this anyway?”

“
It's
a healthy version of Coq au Vin.”

“
What
in the heck is that?” I scowl at my plate before taking a small
taste of the sauce. It has a rich, savory flavor. Not bad, but
probably not what I would have ordered had I seen the menu.

“
It's
chicken and vegetable stew cooked in red wine. I picked green beans
and mashed cauliflower for your sides. Cauliflower is healthier than
mashed potatoes.”

A shiver of anger
rolls down my spine. What if I wanted mashed potatoes instead of
cauliflower? What if I wanted something else entirely? How dare he
order for me?

“
Do
you not like it?” He swallows the bite of food he was chewing
and looks at me expectantly.

My jaw tightens as I
remember how important it is not to upset him tonight. He can still
pull out of the interior design contract if he wants. It pisses me
off that we're back to this again, that he has so much power over me
right now.

“
It's
fine.” I stab at the chicken like I want to kill it a second
time.

“
Good.”
He obviously doesn't believe me, but he says nothing more.

The next several
minutes are spent in silence while I force the food down and try to
temper my anger. The food is actually pretty good, but that's beyond
the point. It feels like he's trying to control me, and I don't want
to be controlled. We're a couple, not Dominant and submissive. I
don't like being treated like a submissive, especially when we're out
in public.

I finish a little
less than half of my food before my appetite wanes due to stress. For
as much as I keep telling myself to forget about him ordering for me,
it has me really agitated. What if I want dessert? I'd bet a hundred
dollars that he won't let me order it. If he wouldn't even let me
have real mashed potatoes, then I doubt he'll let me have diabetes on
a plate.

It doesn't bother me
that he likes eating healthy. In fact, that's a good thing. He
wouldn't be chiseled like a Greek God if he didn't. But I like my
fats and carbs and sugar. Maybe I could stand to lose a few pounds
but...Oh God, is this his way of silently telling me that I'm fat? Is
that why he ordered for me, because he doesn't want me to gain any
more weight? Suddenly, I'm feeling a lot less sexy in my little black
dress.

“
Are
you alright?” He arches an eyebrow at me.

“
Yeah,
why?” I pick up my glass of wine and drain it. At least he
doesn't care if I get drunk.

“
You're
awfully quiet.”

“
I
just feel a little out of my element is all.” It's not exactly
a lie. This whole dinner now feels strange to me.

“
You'll
get more in your element later when I take that dress off of you.”
He looks at me over his glass of wine, his eyes going dark with lust.

“
Maybe
I will.” I blush, feeling the wine going to work enhancing my
desire.

“
But
first I suppose I should tell you what I wanted to say.” He
drops his gaze before unbuttoning his suit jacket.

To be honest, I'd
been stewing over him ordered for me so much that I had practically
forgotten he wanted to tell me something.

“
You
wanted me to stop working at Flesh,” he says as he fishes for
something inside his suit jacket.

My heart skips a
beat at the very prospect of what he's grabbing for. Even more so
that he mentioned leaving Flesh. It must mean that he really is
serious about us.

“
I'd
like that more than anything,” I reply, unable to hide the
excitement in my voice.

“
Then
here's my offer.” He takes a folded up paper out of his pocket
and hands it across to me. Several folded up pieces of paper,
actually.

“
What
is this?” I ask, my expression sulking as I unfold the papers.
When I read the capitalized heading, my heart drops to the pit of my
stomach.

It says CONTRACT OF
SUBMISSION.

CHAPTER TWO

If there was a
button I could press to magically teleport back to my apartment, I
would be slamming my fist down on it. It's taking everything in me to
keep my hand from shaking. This isn't what I want at all. This was
never what I wanted. The fact that he thought this would make me
happy shows just how little he understands me.

Lucian pushes his
plate to the side and steeples his hands on the table as he waits for
me to read through the contract. I'm so speechless and numb that all
I can do is flip through the pages to keep from throwing them in his
face.

The contract is very
extensive and strict. The rules of my submission are neatly typed
out. It looks legal though I know it's not.

My eyes scan the
list of things he would require of me, and the more I read, the more
pissed off I become. There's a section about what I would eat from
this point on, which cuts out almost all carbohydrates and sugar.
It's so specific that he added percentages to how much protein,
vegetables, and fruit I'm allowed to have at each meal.

There's also a
section on the vitamins I would be required to take, along with an
exercise regimen of weight lifting three days a week and cardio three
days a week with one day off. After reading that, I glance up at him
over the papers. Do I fucking look like I workout?

To make things
worse, he expects me to document everything. Food, fluids, vitamins,
exercise. And that's just when I'm not with him. When I'm with him,
his list of expectations is a mile long. If I agreed to this, I would
pretty much become his slave.

By the time I get to
the end of the contract, I'm wondering how red my face is. The
pressure building up in my neck makes me feel like my head could pop
right off of my shoulders.

“
I
brought a pen if you're ready to sign.” He reaches back into
his pocket to pull out an expensive looking fountain pen.

I drop the contract
onto the table in front of me, my hands frozen in place with my
fingers spread. I'm desperately afraid of opening my mouth because
something horribly vicious might come out.

I swallow and close
my eyes, my mind going about a million miles per hour. The act of
searching for non-dramatic words is a lot harder than I thought it
ever could be.

“
I
must respectfully decline,” I manage to say between clenched
teeth.

“
You...decline?”
I don't think he could sound any more confused if he tried. “I
thought you wanted a relationship with me.”

“
I
do want a relationship with you, Lucian, but not like this.” I
tap the contract with the back of my hand. “Never like this.”

“
I
don't understand.” He shakes his head. “I thought we were
on the same page about this. I thought that everything we had going
on was building up to this.”

“
Oh
my God, I'm so fucking stupid.” I draw my hand up to my face,
my eyes going wide as I'm struck by an epiphany. “You never
wanted a relationship with me. You never wanted to stop being a Dom.
You only wanted this.”

“
Of
course this is what I wanted.” He quirks his head back, and I
can tell that he's getting upset as well. “What did you think I
wanted?”

It feels like my
blood is boiling. There's a hard lump in my throat that's threatening
to choke me to death. Every moment spent in his presence feels
excruciating. The way the mood has shifted from happy to incredibly
tense in almost the blink of an eye is way too much for me to bear.

I reach into my
purse to take out my phone, trying to still my angry trembling long
enough to call a taxi.

“
What
are you doing?” Lucian furrows his brows at me.

“
What's
the name of this place?” I can hardly stand to look at him
right now.

“
Amy,
put down the phone.” He rolls his eyes, which only pisses me
off more.

“
Yes,
I need a taxi to come pick me up,” I say as soon as someone
picks up on the other end of the line.

“
Amy,
put down the phone,” Lucian repeats, his words clipped with
aggravation.

I choose to ignore
him. Because he doesn't own me. Because he never will. “I'm
at...” I search the room for anything with the restaurant's
name on it. Oddly, it's nowhere to be found. My frustration builds as
I realize that the universe has decided to make escaping Lucian
incredibly difficult for me. I'm not going to let it win though. I
stand and take long strides out of the restaurant to look at the name
on the building, then blurt it out into the phone the best that I
can.