Any lingering teenage romantic feelings she’d had for Cole died along with him. From then on, all her fantasies of Cole DeMarco had revolved around revenge and finding the evidence to prove her father’s innocence.
Which is why she didn’t understand how she could still be attracted to him. Trapped both by his touch and the magnetic pull in his eyes, she had no choice but to answer as honestly as she could. “I want you to train me to be a slave.”
A low hiss emitted from between his clenched teeth, and a pained expression pinched the corners of his eyes. “Do you even know what a slave is, Danielle?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Actually, she knew very little about slaves. Was he going to tell her what to wear and what to eat? Would every move be dictated by him for her entire stay?
He relinquished his grip on her and took a step back, but she could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin. “And why do you wish to become a slave?”
Sensing this was a trick question, she toyed with the bottom edge of the corset, resisting her usual habit of biting her nails. “Didn’t I explain it in my application?”
“Your application was vague, to say the very least.” His jaw tensed as he rounded his desk and took his seat behind it. Then he slapped down a file marked with her name. “I don’t permit liars in my club or in my home. That’s not what this lifestyle is about. Safe, Sane, Consensual. I need to ensure you meet those standards, or you’ll find yourself on the next plane back to Arizona. Why are you here?” He didn’t raise his voice, but it was tight, as if he was barely containing his anger.
Honestly, she’d prefer if he yelled. At least then she’d remember she was supposed to hate him.
“There’s a man. A Dom . . . Dominant. He’s asked me to marry him, but he has certain needs. He says he’ll give up BDSM for me, but I worry I won’t satisfy that part of him.” When Roman had proposed marriage before leaving for his business trip, she’d been shocked. She loved him dearly, but as a friend, and she thought he’d felt the same. As for the part about him being a Dom, she’d learned that bit of information one night when the two of them had gotten drunk celebrating the New Year with a bottle of vodka. Pretending to gag but secretly curious about what that meant, she’d made him promise never to discuss his sex life with her again.
Cole ran his hand over his bald head. “This isn’t a job like a cashier at McDonald’s. This is a lifestyle. You don’t just wake up one day and decide to become a submissive. It’s in your blood, your head, your heart. It’s a part of your identity, and without it, you’re incomplete.”
“That’s me.”
His lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Really? I’m so glad to hear it. I have my doubts about training you. If you really want this, you’re going to have to convince me.” He pressed the speaker on his desk phone and pressed a couple numbers. “Adrian. Please come into my office.” He punched off the speaker with his fist and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, smirking as if he held the secrets to the world in his hands.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Whatever I want. Isn’t that what you agreed to?”
There was a double knock and the subtle groan of the door opening a moment before Adrian entered the room looking every bit as uncomfortable as he had when he left. He paused by the desk, his arms clasped behind him. “Master. How may I please you?”
Cole pushed back from his desk and swiveled his chair toward Adrian. “I’m afraid our new slave here is keeping secrets. That deserves a punishment, don’t you agree?”
Adrian bowed his head. “Yes, Master.”
Punishment? A chill passed through her, hardening her nipples and creating shivers down her arms. A heaviness settled in her chest, causing her to feel breathless. She was guessing punishment wouldn’t be a time-out. Her own father had never laid a hand on her in reprimand. She’d never given him reason. Fifteen minutes in this house and she’d already earned one. How the heck would she survive however long it took to save Tasha?
The strangest part of it was her reaction was only based in part on fear. She hated that his words aroused her, and she had no idea why.
“What’s your favorite color, Danielle?” Cole asked.
Shivering, she thought about home and the burning glow of the Arizona sun on Mt. McDowell at sunset, so different from the cold she’d found in Michigan. “I . . . uh . . . red.”
Adrian chuckled but covered it with a cough and a hand to his full lips. Her stomach swooped and her body tingled as though she was on a roller coaster, balanced on the top of the largest hill, facing the inevitable drop.