Sweet Persuasion

CHAPTER 28

Serena leaned back in her chair and stared out the window of her office building. First day back at work after a week of being Damon’s slave.

Slave.

It was a laughable term when she considered just what her experience had been. All the reading, all the mystery and fantasy. What she’d expected was a far cry from what she’d received.

Pampered. Cherished.

Maybe she’d expected true slavery. To be debased or degraded. Had she wanted that? Some of the scenarios she’d fantasized about embarrassed her now. Made her feel ashamed.

She reached back, trying to rationalize what drove her need to subject herself to a man’s dominance. But the answers didn’t come. And now that she was away from Damon, back in the normal realm of reality, she felt removed from her experience as if it had all been a dream.

The idea of going back to the fantasy seemed odd, as if the curtains had been pulled back, exposing the truth, shining light over a shadow.

Julie and Faith had both called, wanting to meet her after work for drinks and gossip, and obviously to get the dirt on Serena’s week in captivity, if you could call a week of decadent pleasure and endless spoiling captivity.

Serena had cried off, saying Damon expected her home, and it was the truth. Why she still sat here at her desk as the evening progressed, with her cell phone turned off, was a mystery she wasn’t moved to solve.

A part of her was tempted to call Damon and tell him she wouldn’t be back, that the agreement was over. It would make her a flaming coward, not to mention she wanted to see Damon again. She wanted to be with him. And she owed him more than a brush-off over the phone.

She shoved away from the desk and stood. As her slacks adjusted and slipped down to cover the band around her left ankle, she frowned unhappily. For a long moment she stared at the place where she knew the cuff resided, now covered by her pants. She’d purposely not worn a skirt because she hadn’t wanted the unusual piece of jewelry to be seen. The blouse she’d chosen was a half sleeve to hide the armband.

No one could possibly know what the jewelry signified, no one but her. But she hadn’t felt comfortable stepping outside of the fantasy she and Damon had created, hadn’t wanted to bring it to her world. It crossed a dangerous threshold.

Sex confused the issue. As trite as it sounded, when emotion entered the picture—and it had—sex was no longer just sex. Lust was no longer just lust. And fantasy was no longer just fantasy.

She knew this, cautioned clients about it on a daily basis, and yet here she was, up to her neck in a fantasy that blurred the line so much that even she had a hard time figuring out how much was real and how much wasn’t.

She wouldn’t lie to herself and vow that there wasn’t any real attraction between her and Damon, or that she longed with painful ferocity for something deeper than casual sex and a fantasy role. But he’d made it clear what he wanted, and she’d been equally clear about her wants and needs.

Opposing destinations with a brief intersection.

That about described her and Damon.

She glanced at her watch and winced. She was postponing the inevitable. There was a decision to make. Either she went back to Damon or she called it off. But standing here being wishy-washy wasn’t the answer, and it didn’t get her any closer to the solution.

She collected her briefcase and her keys and reluctantly headed for the elevator. It was odd how strange the whole situation looked as soon as she removed herself from the fantasy. But while she was there, living it, wanting it and craving it, there was nothing but the moment. Nothing but the need for more.

Was this what addiction felt like? Wanting something that wasn’t good for you and losing all objectivity in the process?

When she got into her car, she didn’t immediately head for Damon’s, nor did she go home. She drove. As much as it pained her to admit, she was scared. Scared of how easily she could lose herself if she allowed it. During the week she’d been with Damon, she’d found herself doing anything to please him. Without question, without hesitation, never offering argument.

It was frightening how easily she turned into someone else. But more unnerving was the idea that maybe she hadn’t so much turned into someone else as she’d embraced who she’d always been.

“No. This isn’t me,” she whispered. “And I don’t want it to be.”

Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, she picked up the phone and dialed Faith’s number.

A moment later, her friend’s concerned voice came over the line.

“Where are you?” Faith demanded before Serena could even say hello.

“I’m in the car,” Serena said calmly.

“Damon is frantic with worry. He said he’s been unable to reach you and that you aren’t at the office or your apartment.”

“Shit,” Serena muttered.

“Is something wrong?” Faith demanded.

Serena took in a deep breath. Just hearing that Damon was worried made Serena feel like an inconsiderate clod.

“Faith, I just have a question.”

“Okay.”

“Remember when you said that Gray told you he could never be involved with a woman who wasn’t strong enough to submit?”

There was a short pause. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you believe that?”

“What are you getting at, Serena?” Faith asked softly.

“I just want to know if you believe it. That it takes someone strong to give up ultimate power, to allow a man to take care of her, to make decisions for her.”

“Yes, I do.”

The conviction in Faith’s voice moved her more than the actual words.

“Thank you,” Serena said quietly. “I need to go. I need to get home to Damon.”

“Serena, what’s going on?” Faith asked.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

She hit the end button before Faith could offer further argument. For a moment, she held the phone in her hand, tempted to call Damon, but she wasn’t at all sure what she’d say, and now, as if she’d known all along where she’d end up, she realized she was only a few minutes from his house.

She punched the power button to turn her phone off again and tossed it onto the seat. A few minutes later, she pulled into the drive of Damon’s home and frowned when she saw several cars parked out front. She pulled up behind the last and cut the engine.

Leaving her briefcase and phone on the seat, she got out and walked to the front door. As soon as she hit the top step, the door flew open.

She raised her gaze to meet Damon’s furious one. His eyes were nearly black, and anger tightened his lips.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

His words lashed over her, igniting her own helpless anger.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she snapped. “Our agreement is for when I’m here.”

He reached out and cupped her shoulder, yanking her inside the house. The door slammed behind her, and she winced.

“This has nothing, nothing to do with any agreement,” he bit out. “It has to do with common decency. I was worried, Serena. I thought you might be on the side of the road somewhere, hurt and alone. Or in the hospital. Or in the fucking morgue.”

She flinched at the raw edge in his voice. There was more than anger. There was true concern and frustration.

“You wouldn’t answer your goddamn phone. I even sent Sam to your office and then your home and then back here so he could trace your possible route.”

She closed her eyes against his censure because he was right. She’d been an irresponsible twit all because she didn’t have a goddamn spine.

“I’m sorry,” she said tiredly.

He held up his hand. His jaw ticked like he was trying to hang on to his temper.

“What happened?” he asked bluntly. “Where have you been and are you all right?”

This was one time when she wished she’d actually been in some sort of an accident just so she didn’t have to tell him she’d been hiding. From him. From herself. From this combustible attraction between them.

“I was thinking.”

“Thinking? You were thinking? And in all this thinking, it never crossed your mind that I might be worried, that you at least owed me the courtesy of a phone call to say you’d be late? Not as your master, Serena. Not as some guy who considers you a slave, but as someone who cares about you.”

She closed her eyes as fatigue centered between her shoulders. When she opened them again, Damon was dragging a hand through his hair in a supreme gesture of agitation.

“Go and change into the clothes I’ve laid out for you,” he said in a controlled voice. “Then return to the living room. We have guests.”

He stared her down as if waiting for the word to cross her lips. He was forcing her into the decision she’d been wavering on the entire day. If she said no, she’d leave, and she wouldn’t be back. If she did his bidding, she was committing to staying, to continuing the farce.

Neither option seemed attractive to her right now. What she really wanted was to be alone, and she could be alone if she just said no.

Instead, she nodded and walked past Damon toward the bedroom. He didn’t touch her, didn’t hold her back or say anything further. When she looked back as she entered the hallway, he’d already left the foyer.

She continued up the stairs, her fatigue and confusion growing with each step. When she got to the bedroom, she saw that Damon had laid out one of the exquisite dresses he’d purchased for her along with a matching black bra and panties, silk stockings and a pair of expensive heels. There was even jewelry to accompany the sophisticated look.

As she continued to stare at the clothing, she had a swift realization. Tonight she wasn’t his slave. He was inviting her into his world. His real world, where he expected her to mingle with his guests. Normalcy. A step out of the roles they played, and yet, they only existed in the realm of her fantasy. A world she had created.

He was making it real. Fear raced up her spine. Fear and uncertainty. He was changing the rules and the parameters. How could he expect her to embrace his reality and then turn away? God, she didn’t need it to be more real between her and Damon. If anything she needed the protection that fantasy and escapism offered. There was no chance of her losing her way when things weren’t in reach.

But to expect her to interact with him as if they had a chance, as if things were normal . . . it was the height of cruelty.

Her head spun as panic and distress tightened every muscle. She couldn’t attend as his date, some woman he had a relationship with. No, if she attended, it would be as his slave. There would be no breaching the walls of her carefully constructed fantasy.