Stealing Serenity Page 2

  “Safe word?”

  “An agreed-upon phrase or gesture. The submissive can stop the scene at any time, no questions asked.”

  “Sounds pretty sensible.”

  “Quite. But it leaves plenty of room for the outrageous, for lots of boundary pushing.”

  Yes, she was quite sure he was expert at that. Never had she met a man so completely self-confident and smooth, so utterly prepossessed, as if he really was her date.

  “Well, there won’t be anything outrageous about tonight,” she said. “Just your run-of-the-mill, deadly, dull, milk-toast corporate dinner. As vanilla as it comes.”

  “Although you never know what goes on behind the scenes,” he pointed out.

  Serenity tried to imagine Mr. Blake, tall and gangly, or the portly Mr. Givens chasing after subs or putting them over their knees.

  As for the new bosses, these men she knew nothing about. Except that they were fabulously rich and had bought the entire firm lock, stock and barrel.

  Their country of origin was Listonia, part of the former Soviet Union. They were old school and they didn’t trust unattached females. Hopefully they had more use for attached ones, other than as wives and potential mistresses.

  Tonight was the unofficial changeover, the welcoming of the new and the simultaneous farewell for Hiram Blake and Roger Givens. It would be sad to see them go. Serenity had spent five years crunching numbers for the two of them. Now it would be Listonian rubles instead of dollars. Such was the way of the modern world.

  Where even the future seemed outmoded.

  The valets were waiting in their smart uniforms as Ross pulled up. This time it was a stranger opening the door for Serenity, though she felt no less on display than under Ross’ eyes.

  With the aplomb of a man used to the finer things, he turned over control of his vehicle and strode over to take her arm.

  As if he’s taking possession of me, she thought.

  A few more back-and-forths in the elevator, just enough to flesh out the details of their storybook romance that never was, and they were there. The tenth-floor reception hall.

  Ross helped her off with her wrap, handing it to the attentive check-in girl.

  She breathed in and out, one final time. Here goes nothing.

  Hiram Blake was right there at the door. With him were his wife Celestine and a gentleman in a dark suit as black as his mustache.

  The man had a woman with him, a blonde in a silver-sequined gown. She was easily ten years his junior.

  “Ah, Serenity,” said Blake, looking even more nervous and fish-eyed than usual. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Anton Nuryenko and his wife Irinya.”

  “Charmed,” said Nuryenko. “It is an honor, my dear.”

  Nuryenko took her hand. His was ice cold, wooden, nothing like Ross’.

  “And may I introduce Mr. Ross Lassiter,” she said. “My…date.”

  Ross quickly made up for the slight gaffe.

  Taking Mr. Nuryenko’s hand in turn, he spoke to the man in what she could only assume was perfect Listonian.

  Nuryenko’s eyes went from amazed to impressed to utter delight in under a second.

  “You are a man of the world,” said Nuryenko. “This I can tell.”

  “As are you,” said Ross.

  More conversation followed, rapid fire and culminating in a belly laugh between the two of them.

  Blake in turn gave Serenity a puzzled look, which led her to do her best to shrink into the carpet pattern. Clearly this was going to be a much longer night than she had expected.

  * * * * *

  Dinner was a blur. Ross stole the show, he and his impeccable command of Nuryenko’s language. By dessert the two of them were singing songs together.

  Givens and Blake as it turned out were more than happy as well. Thanks to Ross’ charms, Nuryenko had agreed to sweeten the original deal as well as offer additional stock options.

  Serenity ought to have been thrilled. She was not.

  “Darling,” said Ross. “Would you like to dance?”

  She glared at him but dared not offer any resistance as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Talk about a command performance.

  “Why didn’t you tell me ahead of time?” she whispered fiercely as Ross tucked her into place against his strongly muscled body.

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you spoke Listonian.”

  “The subject never came up.”

  “Well, it bloody well should have.”

  “I’m not sure I see the issue,” he said, his fingers uncomfortably warm and splayed against her back. “It seems to be working out all right.”

  Serenity frowned. Wasn’t it obvious? He was supposed to blend, be a nice bit of eye candy. This was her night to shine, damn it.

  “It’s fine for you. You’re just showing off and I have to live with the results. I suppose now I will have to drag you to every single company event. Nuryenko will probably want us married by spring.”

  Ross smiled, flashing those damn dimples.

  She hated how he moved, leading her but not pushing, fitting her body, reading her and staying one step ahead, as if they’d been doing this a lifetime.

  “I don’t see what’s so amusing.”

  “You are. You’re a living doll actually.”

  And you are a big giant pain in my ass, she wanted to tell him.

  “I can’t wait for this night to be over, that’s all,” she said instead.

  “I think I know what this is really all about.”

  Her heart rate quickened. “Oh, please, enlighten me.”

  “It’s about our discussion in the car.”

  “Oh my, however did you guess? Yes, that’s right. I secretly want you to take me home and tie me up and paddle my ass to the tune of Dixie.”

  “I’ll admit that’s a new one on me,” he confessed. “But I find it interesting you made the assumption I was talking about BDSM.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Weren’t you?”

  “You tell me, you seem to have everything all figured out.”

  She tried not to look up into his eyes. So damn hypnotic.

  “I know your type, that’s enough.”

  “I’m a type?”

  “Smug, arrogant, likes to date younger women who are passive and pretty enough to look good on your arm but not smart enough to challenge you. All of which points to your insecurity.”

  He lapsed into what sounded like more Listonian.

  “Say it in English, if you dare.”

  “It’s an old proverb, about the woman protesting too much.”

  “Really? Because I liked it better when it was Shakespeare.”

  “Just points out how true it is, Serenity, it pops up everywhere.”

  Speaking of which, she was painfully aware of Ross’ crotch, his manhood so close at hand, pressed to her pelvis. This was a dominant man. What would that mean if she were submissive? Would he whisper in her ear what was to come? How she was to perform? Would his hand descend from her back, cupping her buttocks cheeks?

  She pictured just that, the possessive grip of his fingers moving and owning her. His lips at her earlobes, his words teasing as he whispered commands. Hints of things to come.

  The questions ran through her mind. Had he ever been married…or kept someone as a live-in slave?

  The thought made her shiver. It made her want to melt into the floor. It made her want to run.

  “You’re pushing your luck, Lassiter.”

  “I was born to push my luck, Serenity.”

  Her toes curled at the sound of his voice and at the possibilities.

  She had to put him off fast. “You do remember this is all fake, right? You pretend to take me out and I go home for real, alone?”

  “Sure, but you don’t sound very happy at the prospect.”

  “Stop reading things into what I say, will you? I am totally happy, ask Lucretia.”

  On second thought, Lucretia had a way of editoriali
zing and interpreting. Leave it to her to have told Ross she was in need of a good screwing to work through all the rough edges in her personality of late.

  “Lucretia thinks no one is happy unless they are being properly meddled with,” Ross said.

  Serenity laughed in spite of herself. “You know her well.”

  “I should.” Ross managed to drop his second bombshell of the evening. “She’s my mother.”

  Chapter Two

  Serenity took a moment or two to let the news sink in. This night just got better and better.

  “Lucretia is your mother?!”

  “I’m afraid so. I do hope you won’t hold it against me,” he said dryly.

  “Which part? Being her son or the fact that you neglected to tell me? Of course concealing key items is your specialty, isn’t it?”

  “If you’re still miffed about my speaking Listonian…”

  “There’s that…and the part about you getting your jollies with whips and chains.”

  “Your new boss is happy,” he dismissed. “I would think that should make you happy.”

  “Sure. Don’t I look thrilled?”

  “You look like a deer caught in the headlights, actually.”

  “I just want to go home,” she decided.

  It was at this point she remembered what that entailed—another trip in his impossibly small car, all leather and musk and testosterone.

  “I can take a cab,” she added.

  “I’m not sure Nuryenko would approve. I know I don’t.”

  “Oh, are the two of you my new masters? Awesome.”

  “A gentleman takes a lady home at the conclusion of a date.”

  “And exactly how are you a gentleman?”

  Ross took her hand, instantly quieting her.

  “Try me and you’ll find out.”

  Bereft of further comments, but still mad as a hornet she let him lead her back to the table where Hiram and Nuryenko were engaged in a slightly slurred discussion on the relative merits of American and Listonian baths.

  “A Listonian steam bath is a man’s bath,” Nuryenko was saying.

  Ross added his two cents and proceeded to apologize for their impending departure.

  “It’s been an honor,” said Nuryenko.

  Nuryenko’s wife concurred.

  “Miss Serenity,” he said. “We should talk as soon as possible. I’ll need someone to head up the operations in my absence. Can’t expect me to be there day to day, can we?”

  Serenity’s jaw dropped.

  Head up the operations?

  Just like that she’d soared over the male vice presidents. Ross had been worth his weight in gold after all.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say, ‘Yes, Mr. Nuryenko,’” the Listonian advised.

  Serenity did as told, feeling ten feet off the ground.

  She was still floating as they walked to the car—Ross’ predator car with its sexy leather interior.

  At the last second she remembered what she was in for. Too late to head for the hills, she lowered herself into the seat, allowing the valet to close the door behind her.

  “I told you everything would be all right,” Ross said as he eased the vehicle back into traffic.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I still say you should have told me.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone with me if I had.”

  “True,” she admitted.

  “So I did the right thing.”

  “You got lucky.”

  “It was all skill.” He was grinning, as if maybe he didn’t take himself too seriously.

  “Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

  Still grinning, he said, “So when can I see you again?”

  Serenity shrank toward the door, pulse racing. “You can’t be serious?”

  “Why not? Didn’t we have fun?”

  “Yeah, a real barrel of monkeys.”

  “We can do dinner, just the two of us.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Because you don’t think you’re submissive?”

  “No. Because I know I’m not submissive.”

  “You’ll at least kiss me good night.”

  He made her think about that the whole rest of the way. The bastard.

  Naturally he insisted on opening her door for her. He was too quick getting around the car with those loping strides of his, not hurrying, just exercising absolute command of the space around him.

  She did her best to dodge him but he was there to capture her lips. Her protest only aided his purpose, sealing their mouths, light but firm, the message being amply conveyed.

  He was interested in her. He liked her. He wanted her.

  But was he hunting her?

  “Dinner tomorrow?”

  She cleared her throat. He’d ended the kiss but not his grip on her will.

  “I have plans.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You’re lying, Serenity.”

  She lowered her eyes, her cheeks hot. She felt a little like a child, a bad girl, called out by a superior.

  “I will pick you up at eight.”

  She turned without answering, walking shakily to her front doorstep.

  “One more thing,” he called out as she moved to put the key in the lock.

  Against her better judgment she looked over her shoulder.

  He was leaning against the car, legs crossed. He’d watched her walking no doubt, the motions of her bottom, and the sway of her hips.

  “I’d like you to wear black.”

  “In your dreams,” she called out.

  He gave her a wink. Like he knew she’d be ready at precisely eight. And wearing black.

  What did he know that she didn’t?

  Everything if you asked him.

  Know-it-all. Dominant egomaniac. Lucretia’s son to boot. Wow, did her friend have some explaining to do.

  Serenity watched out the window moments later as Ross Lassiter drove away. The most handsome…and the most aggravating man she’d ever met. Not to mention totally unsuitable for her.

  And she had a whole night to keep telling herself that and maybe she would actually believe it.

  For now she had a phone call to make to a certain person.

  Drat.

  Lucretia’s voice mail was on.

  Figures.

  Serenity decided to drop an email instead, really pour out a piece of her mind. Sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, wearing a comfy old T-shirt, she logged on.

  Right away the search engine came up wanting to be of help. Would she like to look up anything in particular?

  She licked her lips.

  Bondage maybe? Or BDSM?

  Serenity chose the latter and with the push of a button came up with a screen full of options, from story sites to pictorials to organizations.

  Organizations? Good grief. Were sex slaves unionized these days?

  She chose something called the Society for Safe, Sane and Consensual Pleasure. It was at this point she began to learn about community get-togethers called munches as well as forums for education.

  But it was the pictures she really wanted.

  A man in leather kissing a girl, who was tied with her hands over her head. She was standing on tiptoe, wearing a silver, metal collar and a sheer white gown.

  In the next picture the same girl was nude, her head down as she crawled across the floor to the feet of the man. He was standing imperiously waiting for her.

  She was on her knees after that, her hands placed behind her back, her soft, sweet mouth wrapped around his enormous swollen shaft.

  He held a whip which he rested on her shoulder.

  Serenity tried to imagine such power. She could be that woman and Ross could be the man.

  It terrified her. It aroused her.

  She licked her lips. Her nipples were swollen. Her sex throbbed. Still cross-legged she reached down to touch her breasts. A moan escaped her lips.

  She continued with her
research.

  She read an article on training submissives and one on how to find a good dominant. Apparently there was a way to do this 24/7 as a lifestyle.

  Ross wasn’t looking for that, was he? He just wanted dinner, right?

  A dinner where she would wear black.

  Serenity was no fool. She could see the significance. Black was the color of leather, the color of kink.

  Plus he was giving her an order. Dictating how she appeared to him. Doms liked to do that. Some of them controlled everything, from what submissives wore to when they were allowed to receive pleasure. There were chastity belts in addition to ropes and chains and of course there was the entire element of punishment.

  Paddles and whips and floggers, women licking and kissing the instruments they were to be beaten with. Women hot and horny, women being tied up and fucked, punished and fucked, abused and fucked.

  But it wasn’t abuse. Every pictorial began and ended with the girl smiling. To show she liked it and agreed. Safe, sane and consensual.

  She read about safe words too. Everything Ross had said about them was true too. The man hadn’t missed a beat.

  Except she wasn’t submissive.

  Was she?

  Submissives were strong, she’d read that. They knew what they wanted, they weren’t doormats. They were just women who enjoyed the role. Healthy, spirited, females who liked to play the slave.

  But Ross was so damn smug about everything. Well, maybe not smug, but exasperatingly overconfident.

  She would never go to dinner with him. The nerve of him assuming.

  And Lucretia, sending him to her in the first place.

  Serenity closed the laptop, suddenly exhausted. She set it on the night table.

  After brushing her teeth and getting a good look at herself in the mirror, she returned to bed. A good night’s sleep was just the ticket.

  Her head barely hit the pillow before she was asleep. She’d hoped for peace and quiet but instead she began to dream.

  At once she was back at dinner with Nuryenko and his wife. Ross was introducing her…as his slave.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Serenity tried to open her mouth to object. As she did so she felt the metal choker, subtle and beautiful, silver, but very real. It was the symbol of her servitude, her willing submission to Ross.