Secrets (Passion Shields) (2 page)

"Who is in charge of
play day?" Benjamin asked in a quiet voice.

"You are,
" Selina said.

"Who owns your body?"

"You do."

"You keep that in mind while you carry out my instructions for the rest of the day.
" He tapped the end of her nose as he gave her a smile that brightened up his face and lit up her chest.

"Or there'll be hell to pay."
This time he winked before heading out of the bedroom door. He stopped just outside the door.

"Be good, beauty," he sai
d, and her heart skipped a beat, her body melting.

Whenever he used the endearment her body and heart responded simultaneously. He made her feel beautiful though she didn’t believe she was.
If Benjamin thought she was, then his praise was good enough for her.

She listened to his
heavy footsteps against the rug covered wood-panel flooring in the hallway. When she heard the click from the front door closing, she finally relaxed back into the pillows behind her and closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath in.

Benjamin
's scent still floated in the air, reminding her of the notepad on the bedside. She opened her eyes and leaned over, picking up the paper.

The boldly scrawled words were those of a man in control as well as committed to the day and the activities ahead.

In their month of marriage, she'd come to rely on one thing. Benjamin's consistency. His actions had always been measured, and unfailing.

The primary reason they'd gotten married—her plans to bring her brother Kaya to move permanently to the United Kingdom—were already in motion.

Simply put, her husband gave her hope that she could restore some of what had been destroyed from her past. Hope was a good thing, and she would cling to it.

Inhaling deeply to quell the tears that gathered behind her eyelids, Selina
read the list.

Number one: No clothes. Do not wear any for the rest of the day. If you need to go out, I've selected your outfit for the day hanging over the
recliner.

She swept her gaze to the chair. Her blue and brown layered tier dress with a sweetheart neckline hung over it
, a matching blue, knitted cardigan next to it. The dress length stopped just at her knee. On a warm spring day, the loose cotton style allowed for comfort. For the changeable British weather, the cozy wrap would come in handy.

She smiled. In that dress she wouldn't need a bra because of the sweetheart neckline. Sure enough, number two on the list was
No underwear if you wear the dress.

A major rule of
play day was no clothes, for her anyway. It had taken her a few weeks to get used to the idea of walking around the apartment without any clothes on. She'd spent most of her adult life covering up and never revealing her naked body to anyone else.

Now, s
he stared down at the scars that lined her stomach in crisscrosses. Tentatively, she ran a finger along the jagged lines, tracing the welts. For years she'd thought them ugly and hated looking at them—always dressing quickly to cover them up.

Then on their wedding night, Benjamin had made her reveal them to him. Instead of the condescending pity she'd been expecting from him, he'd worshiped her body like he'd sworn he would, kissing each
mark reverently as if she was a goddess and the scars her beautifying spots.

Th
e same day, he'd given her the platinum and gold charm bracelet now sparkling on her left wrist. She'd worn it almost every day since, with pride and awareness.

During their short honeymoon stay at the hotel,
she'd had her first taste of his play day. She'd spent the entire weekend stark naked, except when room service was delivered, fighting the continual impulse to cover up.

Somehow he'd found ways of keeping her fears at bay so she didn't reach for the dressing gown at
every opportunity.

"I love looking at your beautiful bare body
."
Benjamin's words had delighted as well as encouraged her.

There had been no repulsion in his eyes.

His measured actions reinforced his words. She was normal and beautiful and free. In his presence, with his praise, she was all those things for the first time in over ten years.

Now,
Selina caressed her scars, running the pad of her fingers over each ridge the way Benjamin usually did. As she remembered his lips on her skin, tongue rough, wet, coaxing, and arousing, her skin tingled. Her insides clenched. She trailed her hand down to her sex lips but stopped from parting them.

Who owns your body?

Benjamin's words rang in her mind. She wasn't allowed to touch herself. She'd promised to abide by his rules. That meant she couldn’t bring herself to orgasm without his permission.

Frustrated
she blew out a breath and picked up the note again.

Chapter Two

Buzz! Buzz!

At the second sound of the door intercom bell, Selina stepped out of the shower and reached for the white toweling robe hanging behind the bathroom door. She removed the shower cap she'd used to cover her hair and hung it on the hook by the wall radiator.

Buzz!

"Hold your damn horses," she shouted when the loud persistent noise made her jump this time. Padding her bare feet across the cool limestone tiles, she stepped into the hallway and nearly yanked the intercom receiver off the wall.

"
Hello?" She didn't hide her irritation from her voice. Saturday was a sacred time in the Moss household especially this early. It wasn't even ten A.M. yet.

"Sorry,
Mrs. Moss." It was one of their concierges, a usually pleasant middle-aged English man named Martin. Right now he sounded harassed. "I thought I should warn you that you have a guest on the way upstairs."

"What guest?" S
elina wasn't expecting anyone, and neither was she in the mood to entertain. The concierge had a specific instruction from Benjamin to dispose of unexpected guests on Saturday mornings. So why had he allowed one in?

"My apologies, madam." He coughed.

A tug of sympathy made her uncertain about what to say.
Sighing, she leaned her back against the wall. Before her was a large painting of an African landscape, adding a kaleidoscope of color to an otherwise plain white wall. But she wasn't focused on the piece of art by Cameroonian artist, Angu Walters.

In her mind's eye, she pictured
the concierge tugging at the black tie wrapped around the white starched shirt collar. He always dressed in uniform while on duty, and whenever he was uncomfortable, he tugged his collar.

"I
t's Ms. Moss," he continued. "I tried to explain that you were not to be disturbed, but she insisted on going up."

Alarm bells rang in Selina's mind
, and her grip on the receiver tightened. She narrowed her eyes, pulling her eyebrows down in concentration. Who the hell was Ms. Moss? One of Benjamin's relatives, obviously, but which one?

This
day was not turning out as she'd planned at all. First, Benjamin had abandoned her with an action list. Now, she had to deal with a family member she hadn't been warned about.

What
's my husband thinking?

Closing her eyes,
Selina dragged in a long breath to subdue her fraying nerves.

"Martin, who exactly is in the lift
? I mean which of the Mosses?" she asked in a calm tone, lifting her eyelids and focusing her gaze back on the painting on the wall. There was no point in taking out her irritation on the concierge who was simply doing his job. Benjamin, however, wouldn't be spared her bubbling wrath.

"
Beatrice, Mr. Moss's younger sister."

Just at that moment
loud insistent knocks came from the front door. The entryway slab was constructed from solid oak wood and a core of steel. So whoever was knocking was using something stronger than their knuckles.

Instinctively, Selina pulled the
wrap around her body and cinched the waist belt tightly. It was Benjamin's robe, large enough to engulf her body and trail to her feet. Yet she didn't like not having her clothes on in other people's presence.

Counting to five, she
inhaled deeply to stave off the panic rising in her stomach. What was Benjamin's sister doing here? The woman was supposed to be in South Africa. And from the vibes Selina got from her husband, he wasn't close to his family.

The smoke
-wood scent of her husband reached her nostrils, as if he was the one cocooning her with his warm body instead of the weight of the cotton fleece on her shoulders.

She walked to the door, pressed the combination to open the lock and pulled it back.
On the other side stood a beautiful woman with dark blonde hair. Her skin was tanned like she'd been out in the sun, and she had a pretty oval face. Selina noticed her grey eyes instantly; they had the same calculating quality as Benjamin's. Except these lacked his warmth.

Behind her
stood the junior concierge—James, a young man in his late teens or early twenties—holding two large suitcases. The lobby was bare except for large ceramic-potted palm plants. There were no other apartments on this floor. James would've used the key lock to send the lift to this penthouse level.

She'd always wondered about the need for the double security since
a key was required to reach this level but had always put it down to her Ben's work hazards.

"You must be Beatrice Moss."
Selina pasted a smile on her face although the last thing she felt was cheerful. Why did her husband not mention that his sister was coming over?

"
Of course I am," Benjamin's sister said. "Are you going to let me in or just stand there all day?"

The impulse to slam the door flared.
She didn't like the woman's bossy tone. But this was her husband's sibling. And her African upbringing overrode all else in this situation. She couldn’t kick out a guest especially when it was family.

"Sorry. Come in."
Selina kept her cheerful smile and moved out of the way, holding the door wide.

B
eatrice walked in, or rather, waltzed in, her strong, sweet perfume hanging in the air after her. The junior concierge came in behind her, carrying the luggage. She wondered how the woman had roped the boy into doing her bidding. The concierges were there for the benefit of the residents only. But from the harassed expression of his face it seemed he was quite eager to complete the task and disappear.

"Leave it there." Selina pointed at the hallway table
, which held a bouquet of fresh lilies in a white vase.

He deposited the bags next to the mahogany table and straightened up, smiling weakly.

Selina injected sympathy into her smile and voice. "Thank you, James."

"My pleasure,
Mrs. Moss," he muttered before exiting.

She shut the door behind him and turned. Beatrice stood at the
threshold to the living room, dressed in a cream top and black skinny jeans with high-heeled gladiator sandals, looking as glamorous as Charlize Theron on a casual day. Selina had seen pictures. None did her much justice. Beatrice was physically beautiful—model skinny, straight blonde hair, and flawless porcelain skin—the epitome of a modern day beauty. Selina was the exact opposite with her hour-glass curves, curly brown hair, and scarred chocolate skin.

"So you're the new
Mrs. Moss."

Was there a hint of scorn in her voice?

"Yes, I'm Selina." She contemplated extending her hand for a handshake but rejected the notion. She didn't like the way Beatrice was looking at her. As if she was something a cat dragged in off the grubby gutters.

"D
id Benjamin know you were coming?" she asked instead as she walked past Beatrice, who stood taller than her in her high-heels.

"Of course he does. Where is he, anyway?"

Beatrice walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

"He's at the office," Selina called out and followed
her; appalled the woman was walking around with the air of someone who owned the place.

"On a Saturday? That brother of mine works too hard." Beatrice pushed open the door to the guest bedroom opposite Ben's study.
Fortunately, she hadn't gone to the master suite in search of her brother.

Selina exhaled in relief
. She didn't have to deck the woman for disrespecting her.

"I'm going to freshen up and catch a nap
," Beatrice said. "Bring my bags in here."

Gritting her teeth, Selina stomped to where the
luggage was left, dragged them along the floor, and unceremoniously pushed them into the bedroom.

They both hit the
dark wooden frame of the low Japanese style bed with a thud and collapsed on the floor.

"There you are, madam," she said in a rude tone.

The wide-eyed and open-mouthed shock on Beatrice's face as Selina shut the door was enough to put a smile on her face. She went into living room and picked up the cordless land phone. The intermittent ring tone indicated there was a voice message. But she needed to speak to Ben first. So she pressed the speed dial number one button.

He picked the call
at the first ring.

"Hi, beauty." The sound of his deep voice should've soothed her.
It didn't. Instead, it exacerbated her exasperation.

"Did you get my message?"

"What message? I didn't get any message," Selina replied, her voice nasally.

"Oh. I thought that was why you
phoned back," Ben said. "I called to tell you my sister was on the way over to our apartment. She arrived from Johannesburg this morning."

So that was the voice message.
Every Friday night, Ben set the voicemail to pick up their calls after one ring. Moreover she'd taken a long shower this morning, using the powerful jet of the water to sluice some of her earlier tension away.

Shame. The tension was back
. Her shoulder and back muscles were wound so tight, her chest constricted with rage.

"So you think it's okay to wait until the morning your sister arrives to tell me
?"

He might own the luxury penthouse apartment
, but this was still their home, her home, albeit for a short while. She wouldn't be disrespected. Not by him or his sister.

"If you'd listened to the message you'd know that I wasn't expecting her. She just turned up."

"Well, I was in the shower so I didn't hear the phone." She blew out a frustrated breath. "And anyway, who does that? Who flies over thousands of miles to just turn up in somebody's house? What if there was nobody home?"

The sound of Ben's weary sigh
filtered through the phone line.

"She has the code to the door lock. She usually stays over when she's in London."

This just got better.

"A family member I never met just turns up in our home unexpectedly.
" Her voice was loud. She didn’t care if Beatrice overheard her words. "And now you tell me she's allowed to come and go as she wishes. Do I not have a say in this?"

"Of course you do.
"

There was a long pause on the line in which Selina wanted to demand answers. Instead she bit her tongue, fuming silently.

"I should've considered that you might not want her staying with us. Don't worry. I'll arrange a hotel room for her and send a car to pick her up."

His conc
iliatory tone and speed to remedy the problem gave her cause to pause. Did she really want to make an enemy of her sister-in-law? There were enough spare bedrooms in this penthouse to accommodate a basketball team. Moreover, when Kaya came to London he would be living in their apartment. It was only fair to allow Ben's sister to stay.

"No. Don't book a hotel. I don't want her to go." She heaved a sigh. "I guess the unexpectedness of it all threw me. I would've liked to know in advance
, that's all."

Not to mention that it was something else that was adding to screw up
her routine for the day.

"Sure. I'm sorry
," Ben said. After a short pause, he asked, "Where is she now?"

Selina told him, omitting to describe his sister's behavior
on arrival or Selina's reaction to her rudeness. Telling tales was never her thing.

"Are you dressed?" Benjamin's tone changed from peacemaker to seducer
, deep and husky.

Heat flared on her cheeks
, her pulse rate increasing. "No, I'm wearing your toweling robe," she said.

"Have you been a good girl?"

The heat spread from her cheeks down her chest and finally pooling between her legs. She shifted from one leg to the other to distract herself. Benjamin had a knack for turning her on just with the tone of his deep voice.

"If you mean as per your instructions on the list then I've tried to c
arry them out. But with your sister here I'm not sure what else to do."

"Did you touch yourself after I left?"

She shifted again remembering what she'd been doing.

"I started to…" She'd sworn to always be honest with him.

"Did you climax?"

"No. I stopped before my hands reached my
… sex. I only traced the scars while remembering how you touch them."

The sound of his muffled groan made her heart beat faster.

"I want to see you."

Her breath hitched
, and her hand travelled to her neck instinctively where her pulse jumped against her collarbone.

"Are you on your way home?" she asked, her voice a tad hopeful.

"No. Go to my study."

At first she was unsure of what he meant.
Taken aback, she frowned. "What's that got to do with you wanting to see me? The door is locked."