“We can start tonight.”
Chapter 8
I decide the best way to handle Blackmon is to lull him into a false sense of security. I could not believe the unmitigated audacity of the man to demand what he did of me. Yes, I’m still obscenely attracted to him, and yes, I’m probably still half in love with him… but I have absolutely no intention of becoming his submissive and allowing him to abuse me, physically or otherwise. Is he genuinely mad—as in out-of-his-mind crazy?
The last twenty-four hours have been exhausting. After Ian and I arranged to meet at the restaurant, I went to bed early, knowing I had to be on my A-game the next day, but sleep proved elusive. I finally conked out just before dawn, so I was grouchy all the next day, snapping at people a number of times—behavior that I instantly regretted and for which I apologized. I got myself ready and went shopping.
I opted for pants since I always feel more powerful when my legs are covered, for some reason… but I wanted to feel sexy, too. I knew Ian would look fantastic—he always does and so effortlessly—and I didn’t want him to best me in anything. I needed every ounce of mojo available to me in order to pull this off. And pull it off I would.
At 1:45, the plane took off from a private airfield not too far from Burbank Airport. I got into Portland at about five and went straight to my hotel to check in. Seeing the familiar city again gave me a pang of nostalgia and I realized I had missed it. While I was here, I would go visit Mariah and a few other friends, for sure. Tonight I had to meet Ian at eight, so I had enough time to shower and dress at my leisure. Though I never drink anything stronger than wine, I nonetheless help myself to a bottle of Absolut from the mini-bar. It infuses me with calm and maybe a little bit of courage. I need all the help I can get.
As I see it, I have to anticipate what Ian’s going to say. There are three possibilities: first, that he wants money. But I tend to doubt it. Ian Blackmon has more money than God. Going after my wealth would be small fry to him.
Second, that he wants to have the book pulled from bookstore shelves. That’s a greater possibility but it seems silly. After all, so many people have already read it and there are millions of copies in circulation so pulling it wouldn’t really achieve anything at this point.
The third and most probable possibility is that he wants something more personal: perhaps he wants to reestablish our relationship? But that also seems insane. Why would he? He could get any woman he wants. Plus, I left him in a hurry without even a phone call. He never tried contacting me after his first few attempts. At one point, I felt sure he’d put his considerable resources to use, easily finding me and showing up at my flat in the UK. But he never did.
I could only surmise that he didn’t care… and it didn’t matter anyway since he whipped me. I just couldn’t get over that experience. Who could?
Here’s what I figured I’d do: show up at the restaurant, find out what he wanted from me, and as soon as I learned his demands, I’d call Stephen and he would tell me what to do. But I must admit I didn’t handle it well at all when he told me what he wanted. His fucking submissive? Really? I thought at least he’d upgrade me to the status of girlfriend. At this point I probably wouldn’t take that either.
I took my time getting ready to meet him. I slid into the tight black pants and very high heels, softening the look with silk and silver. Checking the mirror after dressing, I nodded: it made just the right statement, sexy but powerful, feminine but not a pushover. I carefully applied some make-up—enough to look good but not too much. Ian didn’t like garish… and then I remembered that I didn’t care what Ian liked, damn it. The make-up was war paint and I was dressing for battle.
After he makes his outrageous proposal, I step away to call Stephen as promised. It is quite a conversation.
“Let’s have it, Ella. What does he want?”
“I warn you it’s shocking, Stephen. I think Blackmon has lost his mind.”
“Don’t’ fret: I’ve been around the block a time or two. Try me.”
“Okay. Well, you know what my book is about, right? It seems that Mr. Blackmon would like me to assume the role of his submissive for a period of six months in order to rid myself of any liability for his injury resulting from my big, bad book.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?”
I manage to squeeze out a brittle laugh despite the fact that my body is as taut as a bow and arrow tensed to fly. “My words exactly, Stephen. But, no, he doesn’t appear to be joking. Further, he wants a definite answer before we leave the restaurant and, here’s the best part: he wants to begin this relationship tonight.”