Perfect Submission

Perfect Submission

by Roxy Sloane

This book is dedicated to BC.
Thank you a million times over.

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Copyright 2014 Roxy Sloane

Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ONE: ISABELLE

TWO: CAM

THREE: ISABELLE

FOUR: CAM

FIVE: ISABELLE

SIX: CAM

SEVEN: ISABELLE

EIGHT: CAM

NINE: ISABELLE

TEN: CAM

ELEVEN: ISABELLE

I don’t sleep. I’m exhausted and broken, my
whole body screaming for a break, but I couldn’t sleep if I tried,
not after the worst night of my life.

I’m in jail.

Holding, to be exact. That’s what the cop
tells me as he hustles me down a long hallway, the cold metal of
the handcuffs biting into my skin.

“You’ll be brought up for interviews in the
morning,” he says gruffly. “Guess someone wants to teach you a
lesson, sticking you down here for the night.”

Cam handcuffed me. My hands behind my back,
he drove me crazy with pleasure. It was sexy. Forbidden. But
there’s nothing sexy about the fear and panic that over takes me
now, feeling these cuffs locked tight around my wrists.

“Please,” I beg him. “I need to call
someone. This is all a mistake.”

“You’ll get your call in the morning.”

He comes to a stop at the end of the hall
and yanks a metal door open. “Play nice with the other girls,” he
snorts, unlocking my cuffs. “They won’t bite.”

I look inside and feel claustrophobic. It’s
a small concrete cell, maybe fifteen feet square, with bars on
three sides. There are five other women sprawled on a narrow bench
or pacing the small space. Judging by their clothes and teased
hair, they weren’t arrested for white collar crime.

One of them paces closer, “Not unless you
ask, baby,” she coos at the cop. “But it’s extra.”

He rolls his eyes. “Go on,” he nods, but I
don’t move.

This is just a nightmare,
I tell
myself desperately
. Any minute now, you’re going to wake
up.

“I said move!” There’s a hand on my back,
and then I’m pushed hard. I stumble, almost falling inside before
the woman catches my arm. “Easy, sugar.”

There’s laughter.

“What’s your name, honey?” The woman who
helped me leers closer. Her makeup is harsh and smudged, and she
stares me up and down with a whistle. “Looking fine. Where you
working? Uptown?”

I can’t deal with this. I’m overwhelmed and
living a nightmare come true. “No…” I mumble, my heart racing. “I
don’t… I’m not…”

“What are you saying?” She moves closer.
“Spit it out.”

I try to breathe. The walls feel like
they’re closing in on me, I can’t get enough air. “Please…” I
whisper.

“You too fancy to talk to bitches like us,
is that it?” another woman snorts.

“Cut it out, Devonne,” another of the women
yawns. “You know those fancy girls don’t know what the fuck they’re
playing at. Probably hit on a cop and got busted at one of the
hotels, you know how they do.” She gives me a sympathetic look.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get off with a caution. Maybe some community
service if it’s your first offense.”

The first woman, Devonne, stares at me
another minute longer, trying to scare me. Suddenly, she lunges
towards me. With her glassy eyes and the strange expression, it’s
obvious she’s on drugs. At least the other women seem sober. I back
away into the corner, facing forward so I can see if anyone comes
near me.

Devonne bursts out laughing. “Fucking
pussy,” she snorts. “They’ll eat you for breakfast in gen-pop.”

She saunters back to the other side of the
cell. She can think she won, as long as she leaves me alone.

I take a deep breath. It takes everything I
have not to cry.

I lean back against the wall, sitting with
my knees hugged to my chest on a hard, narrow bench. When I was a
kid, I used to play a game to hide from mom’s dealers, or the
bullies in the foster homes I lived. I would hide in the smallest
space I could find: a cupboard or cabinet, the crawl space under a
bed. I’d close my eyes tight, and count to a hundred, and pretend
that if they couldn’t see me, then I didn’t exist. It wasn’t
real.

Now, I squeeze my eyes shut and open them
again, but the scene doesn’t change. It’s real, too real. The
clatter of bars, and the chatter of the other prisoners. Down the
hallway, someone is yelling, and here in the cell, it stinks of
urine and vomit. Fear pounds in my bloodstream, my whole body tense
and exhausted. But I need to show strength.

This is where you belong.

The whisper of accusation cuts through my
attempt at a pep talk.

I try to stay calm. This is all a mistake, I
just have to make it through the night here, then everything will
get straightened out. I’ll go home again, and never set foot in a
jail cell again. But logic isn’t my friend right now.

This is what you deserve, killer.

I shudder at the word, but it’s the truth,
isn’t it? I’ve been running from my past all this time, pretending
I’m not to blame, but I can’t run forever.

I accidentally set the fire that killed my
abusive foster father. I left him to burn in the flames. And I was
glad he was dead.

It’s true. It’s all true.

* * *

Time passes too slow, every minute in this
cell feels like an hour. The other women eventually try to sleep,
slumped sitting up on the bench or huddled in the corner, but I
can’t relax for a second.

I can’t let my guard down, and anyway I’m
too pumped up to rest.

I replay everything that happened earlier
tonight, over and over in my mind. I was so happy, walking into
that surprise party on Cam’s arm. My birthday, and I was surrounded
by friends and celebration for what felt like the first time in my
life. Sure, I’d had parties before, massive extravagant blow-outs
that got written about in all the gossip columns, but they were all
for show. A way to prove to the world I had everything, play-acting
the role of spoiled socialite because I thought it was all I
wanted.

But this time, I was with Cam. Being with
him, learning everything he’s taught me, I felt more secure and at
peace than ever before. On his arm, I felt cared for. Special.

Treasured.

And then Brent walked in. I can remember the
look on his face, so smug and satisfied. Why did I ever think I
would be free of him? He’s still the spoiled kid who wants me in
his thrall. He spent years treating me like a personal plaything,
and now that I’m older and stronger, he refuses to let me go. Me
being with a real man like Cam is the ultimate insult to him.

Now, I’m going to pay for that insult with
my life.

My chest gets tight. God, what does everyone
think of me now? My darkest secret exposed for the whole world to
see. Keely, Justine, Olivia – they must be sickened to know the
truth about what I’ve done. Who I was.

And Cam…

I choke back a sob. He looked so angry as
the cops dragged me away. I’d confided my secret to him, but I know
that everything is different now. He hates the world knowing about
his personal life, and now my sins will be plastered across the
front page for sure. I’ve exposed us – exposed him – and I don’t
know if he’ll ever forgive me.

Maybe he’s changed his mind about us.

My fear grows, an icy knot. If I lost Cam
now… I don’t know what I’d do. He’s the only man who’s ever seen me
for me – seen the good in me. Our relationship has deepened with
each day; it’s not just about the sex anymore, but what his
domination means to me. Freedom. Release. Security. I trust him
with my life.

But can he ever trust me again?

A guard comes to cell door and barks,
“Ashcroft!” The sound of my name makes me jump off the bench. I
scramble to my feet, keeping my head up and my voice steady.

“That’s me.” My stomach twists. What happens
to me now? It can’t be worse than this, can it?

The guard waves me over, keys jingling as he
unlocks the cell door and slides it open. “Your bail’s been posted.
Come with me.”

Relief hits me like a tidal wave. Oh, thank
God. The other women in the cell barely stir.

I follow him down the hallway, praying that
this is the last time I set foot inside a jail cell. But I know,
that might not be true. If I’m charged with murder, I could spend
the rest of my life in prison. I can’t deal with the thought, and I
try to block it out, but my panic consumes me. I couldn’t live like
this, every minute of every day. I’ve barely spent the night in
that cell, and already I feel like I’m losing my mind.

What would I do for a week? A month?

Twenty-five years?

By the time we reach the main precinct
lobby, I’m barely keeping it together. Faces blur together, cops
and people are all staring at me. I wonder what they see: a spoiled
brat getting what she deserves, or worse, the killer Brent says I
am.

“Isabelle!”

A voice cuts through the commotion. I turn.
Cam is striding toward me, a furious look on his face.

I cringe back in shame, but he barks at the
cop. “Get those cuffs off her!”

His voice is harsh. The cop fumbles to obey
him.

“Come with me,” Cam says, taking my arm.

“My things…” I start, but he cuts me
off.

“I have them. Let’s go.”

My emotions are a whirl as he leads me out
of the lobby and down a back hallway. He’s angry, I knew he would
be. He can’t even look at me.

“Where are we going?” I whisper, hating
myself for putting him through this.

“The back exit. There’s paparazzi all around
the front. Vultures.”

The newspapers. They’ll have a field day
with this. And then even people who weren’t at the party will know
the truth. There’ll be no hiding after this, no running away from
my problems the way I came so close to doing.

Maybe I should have run, when I had the
chance. I would have spared Cam the humiliation of guiding me
through the precinct, a total mess from my night in jail.

He takes me down a staircase and through a
fire exit out back. We’re in a parking lot; his car pulls up in
front of us, and Cam opens the door for me.

But I can’t get in. I can’t take another
step, not with this tension on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, choking up. “I’m
so, so sorry. I know you must hate me, but I never meant to drag
you into this. Just drop me at a hotel.”

Cam turns now, frowning. “What are you
talking about?

I swallow. “You don’t need to do anything
else for me. You’ve already done so much.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Cam takes my
cheek, forcing me to look at him. His eyes blaze darkly. “Isabelle,
I don’t hate you!”

“But you’re angry—”

“At Brent!” he explodes. “At myself for not
protecting you! At the waste of space foster dad who started all of
this. But not you. God, Isabelle, I could never be angry at you.
Not for this.”

The tension in my chest splinters. “So, you
don’t want to end this?” I sob, finally giving in to the tears I’ve
been holding back all night.

Cam cradles my face tenderly. “No. You’re
mine, Isabelle. You belong to me just the same as you did before
tonight. That means we’re in this together.” He draws me closer, to
rest against his strong chest. “I promise, I’ll fix this.”

I used to be able to handle things on my
own, but now that I’ve found Cam, I’ve let my guard down. I’ve
gotten soft. I need him.

I collapse into his embrace, relief surging
through my veins. “I can’t do this without you,” I gasp, holding
him tightly. “I’m so scared, Cam.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I’m here. Whatever
it takes, I’ll protect you,” he promises. “I swear, everything will
be OK.”

“But how can it be?” Because the truth is,
I’m not innocent.

“I’m your Master, aren’t I?” he demands,
tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

I nod, loving the sound of those words on
his lips.

“Then trust me. That’s an order.”

I try my best to keep my anger under
control, for Isabelle’s sake. She’s scared and vulnerable right
now, and I can’t imagine what she’s been through tonight. The last
thing she needs is my rage too.