Wild Submission(17)

If this is his game, it’s working.

* * *

I dress in some jeans and a silk T-shirt, and head downstairs. My stomach is already growling, and I can smell the tempting scent of garlic and orange sauce wafting from the kitchen.

Cam is unpacking takeout boxes on the table. “Have you been to the Imperial Garden over on 74th?” he asks casually. “The shrimp dumplings are killer.” He opens another box like nothing’s happened. “Grab a plate and help yourself. There’s plenty.”

I pause. I already broke my diet with that cupcake at Olivia’s, and the rich sauce on the noodles must have about a million calories.

“Is there any salad?” I ask, peeking in the containers in search of something that won’t take three hours on the treadmill to work off. I come up empty. “It’s OK, Chinese food isn’t really my thing,” I lie.

Cam gives me a sharp look. “All you do is eat salad and push food around your plate. Eat a proper dinner for once. You’ll need the energy,” he adds with a grin.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are,” Cam insists. He fills a plate with noodles, dumplings, and garlic chicken, then points to a chair at the table. “Sit. Eat.”

“Is that an order?” I shoot back, my temper flaring.

“Yes.”

I gape. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Are you questioning me?” Cam’s gaze turns steely.

Suddenly, I feel exhausted. Too tired to go six rounds over a plate of takeout. “Just give me a break, OK? Not everything has to be a fight.”

“I’m not doing this to pick a fight.” Cam’s tone softens. “It’s my job to take care of you—even when you don’t want to take care of yourself.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Is he for real?

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing with my life?” I demand, my voice rising angrily. “Hours at the gym every day, counting every last calorie. Blowouts every week, highlights every month. I do nothing but take care of this body, and make sure it’s perfect every single second of every fucking day!”

Cam blinks, speechless for a moment.

I sink down into a chair. “I take care of myself,” I repeat grimly.

“No, you don’t.” Cam finally speaks. He gives me a sympathetic look. “You take care of what other people want from you. Maybe you don’t need to work so hard,” he adds. “You’d probably be a lot happier if you gave it all up.”

“Wow,” I roll my eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you? You wouldn’t think I was still so sexy if I started porking out on Chinese food all the time and totally let myself go.”

“Believe me, I would.” Cam gives me a wolfish look. “Now, my order still stands. You have my permission to let yourself go.”

I look at the food regretfully. “Great, the one night I get a pass, and you order Chinese.”

He frowns. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not my favorite,” I shrug.

“So what would you eat, if you could have anything in the world?”

I pause. “I’d get a thick, juicy cheeseburger and fries. The works. With an icy cold beer to wash it all down.”

Cam looks surprised. “I would have figured you for more a caviar kind of girl.”

I snort. “That fancy stuff isn’t really my style. It’s easy to keep to a diet when you’re only served haute cuisine.” It took a couple of years after joining the Ashcrofts for my tastes to improve, to learn the difference between Velveeta and gruyere. The first time they served me a salad made by their personal chef, I didn’t recognize anything but the lettuce.

My stomach rumbles so loudly that Cam notices. He laughs. “Grab your coat. I know just the place to satisfy that craving of yours.”

I glance down at my jeans. “I should change first.”

“Don’t worry,” Cam grins. “None of your girlfriends is ever going to see you where we’re going.”





TEN: CAM


I’m breaking my number one rule here—and I don’t care. I never go out in public with my subs: our relationship is always hidden, contained in the safety of The Underground club or my apartment. But here I am, strolling down the street with Isabelle for anyone to see.

“Should we grab a taxi?” Isabelle looks around.

“No,” I tell her. “It’s just down the block.”

As we walk along the sidewalk, I can see her glance over at me, nervous. “What’s on your mind?” I ask.

“This is our first time out together since…you know. The contract,” she whispers. “How is this supposed to go? Do I have to do whatever you tell me, even if people are watching?”