Chapter 72

Ira

"What are you talking about?" I ask the doorman in Katie's apartment building. "I've never had to check in before."

"Sorry, Ms. Mathison." The man, a short gentleman with dyed black hair and wiry glasses, tips his hat to me and writes something down with a gloved hand. "Ms. Allen has requested that all guests be checked in and admitted."

"She's expecting me."

"Even so, I must ring her up first." He picks up a silver phone and holds a finger up to me. "One moment please."

So here I am, standing in the lobby of Kathleen's building, watching well-to-do people come and go as I stand off to the side of this desk and wonder what the hell I've done this time to be banned from her home. I have a hard time believing she's blocking out everyone…

Wait, she is, you say? Bullshit!

"Ms. Allen says you may enter." The doorman gestures to the elevator, where an operator also tips his hat and holds the door open for me. "Have a good evening, Ms. Mathison."

I was hoping for a good evening before this happened. Sure, I'm here to ask Katie for money on behalf of my family. But I was also hoping we could… you know…

Wine. Dine. Make love. Except if she's blocking me from coming up to see her…

I text her on the ride up in the elevator. When I don't get a response, I try not to panic. The doors open. I step out into the quiet hallway and walk straight to her door.

It's open.

The average person would assume something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The average dumbass would panic that someone broke into Kathleen's home and is holding her prisoner somewhere for a sweet reward.

I'm not the average dumbass-person.

First of all, I hear music. Soft, powerful music comes in the form of string instruments over a stereo. The kind of music that plays when we're trying to focus on something important. Like work. I've heard Kathleen play this music on her computer when we did our projects.

Second, I smell her spicier perfume. Not the kind she wore on our dates.

Next, as I step into the apartment, I find myself surrounded by candles. Most of them electric, but some of them real and emitting scents I didn't know were possible.

Finally, I see her.

The door latches shut behind me as I step into Kathleen Allen's domain. This isn't Katie dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. She's not even wearing a skintight dress. Nope.

She's wearing a tailored pantsuit, sitting in the middle of her couch, legs crossed and arms spread behind her. Many times have I pulled that ponytail sticking out on top of her head. But it's covered in black wires, her dark eye makeup searing into my soul as she curls her red lips into a man-eating smile.

Uh-oh.

"Good evening," she says with a tight voice. One leg uncurls from the other, revealing her leather boots. She's worn those boots while submitting to me. She also wears them to the club as a Domme.

Uh-oh.

If I were a captain of a ship, attempting to come into port in my hometown, I would probably start worrying. Okay, not worrying. Panicking. Imagine coming up on deck, expecting to see the sleepy docks and the people that inhabit them. Maybe it's rainy or foggy, but everything is as you left it.

Except it's not.

Soldiers stand on the dock. Your country's soldiers, but they're not supposed to be there, especially not in that large of numbers. They're all armed to the teeth. Guns are aimed at you. Canons point in the direction of your ship. Your first reaction is to man your decks, but you're afraid that will come off as too aggressive, and you'll be set on fire before you have the chance to anchor at the dock and kiss your wife hello for the first time in months.

You're pretty sure you're going to die, just not sure for what reason and how quickly. At the very least, you're being arrested.

Handcuffed. Strung up. Flogged.

Yup. That's what I feel like I'm walking into right now.

"Kathleen." I don't let my voice waver, but it's struggling to not betray my reservations. "You look… intimidating."

Her blue eyes drown in shadows. Yet the sparks I see emanating from their depths… kill me. "Intimidating? Why, thank you. Do sit down."

I'd rather not, so I continue to stand before her. Standing is the only way I feel like I have any power right now. Kathleen is sucking it up like it's her lifeblood.

"What can I do for you, Ira?"

This is so formal. This is so… not my Katie. The way she sits, the way she's dressed, the way she looks at me… never mind the tone of her voice. This is the Kathleen I knew of years ago. The one I avoided for so long because she wasn't like any woman I wanted to deal with. In fact, if I may say so…

Kathleen Allen is the type of Domme who scares the shit out of me.

The Dommes you imagine are the kind the media plays up. They wear lingerie and leather, maybe some steely boots, and walk around carrying whips while making their subs get down on their knees and God knows what. Kathleen isn't that kind of Domme. She makes her love by dressing up like a hardcore businesswoman and taking no names. This is the type of woman who destroys a boardroom and then slaps another woman's tits and calls her a slut.

All right, so some get off on that. Good for them. I'd rather not.

I fling my jacket over my arm, trying to look casual, like the Ira she wants to roll around in bed with. I don't think it's working.

"Business. I'm here for business." I won't press my luck with love.

Kathleen looks between me and something beneath her nails. Is that all I am to her? Lint? Dirt? "I heard on the grapevine that one of your father's investors didn't come through. Is that what you're here about?" The sharp, icy look I get would make me shake in my boots if I were wearing any.

"You heard correctly. We're in a bit of a pickle. My father asked… well, I thought… if you would be able to help out in any way."

No one likes to grovel for money. And let's be honest, no one likes to grovel to the woman they love for money. I would grovel to my mother first, but she's been useless enough to not only deny us the funds but to go running to Kathleen – yeah, I don't doubt it was her.

Kathleen's demeanor does not falter. "You want money from me."

"More like an investment…"

"Which is money, right?"

Her plucked eyebrows look like a witch's. Whatever. Would still fuck her.

In fact, my mind is racing with images of me putting both hands on her, turning her over on this couch, and teaching her to think twice about acting this way toward me.

I don't dare.

"Yes. Money tends to be the form for investments."

Kathleen pulls her arms off the couch and sits up, elbows resting on knees and ankles pushed together. "It's funny. I was talking to my accountant the other day. He told me that my forecast is so bright and sunny that I could retire and keep living my life the way I am… and barely see a dent by the time I die at eighty. Isn't that something? I'm swimming in money. Fifteen million is barely a drop in my big, big bucket."

"That's good to hear…" Where's the but?

She gets up, her body so alluring in her outfit that it's taking me everything I know to not try to touch her. Why shouldn't I? We're dating, aren't we? It's fair game to touch her as I always have. To take her into my arms. To nibble on her ear and suggest we go to the bedroom and have a good time, even if it's vanilla.

"I could give you the money. God knows my family has some stake in that place." The way she slowly crosses her arms, creating a barrier between us, does not ease my nerves. "I don't feel like it. That would be too easy for you."

"Excuse me?"

She steps closer, her perfume so strong that I almost gag. "You always get your way, don't you, Ira? Since the dawn of your life, you've never had to be more than the King, strutting around, taking what you want, and leaving people crying in your wake. How many women have you broken the hearts of? Half a dozen? More? I would like to know some of their names one day if you can remember them."

Ouch.

"Yeah, you worked hard in school to qualify for the positions you have in your company, but let's be real, nepotism was 75% of that perceived hard work. I worked twice as hard as you, at least. I've sweated more. I've taken bigger falls and more flack. For the love of God…" she shakes her head, clicking her tongue, "I've gotten on my knees in front of you, let you spank me, fuck my ass, and call me a fucking slut. Normally I would kill someone for doing that, but for some reason, you have also charmed me into letting you get away with whatever you want."

I remain silent. Don't feel like being killed, after all.

"So here's the deal, Mathison. I'll give you money. I'll give you everything you need and then some. Except you have to do something for me. Do you know what?"

I know. I dare not say it.

Her hand touches my chest. My breath catches inside my ribs, bruising them from within. This touch is Kathleen, and yet it's not the touch I know from her at all. She's squeezing me, clutching my shirt, getting ready to pop my buttons open.

Tear me apart.Ruin me.

I swallow, hard.

"If you want the money so badly…" Her mouth twists into a smile that makes my body annoyingly responsive. Fuck me. "Earn it. Submit to me."

Haha.

Hahahahaha. She said words.

My throat is dry. My body is more aroused than it has any right to be. My heart is pounding in my chest. Did I mention that I'm aroused?

"What?" I ask, drolly. "Right now?"

"Ha. No." Kathleen releases me. "That wouldn't be fair. You gave me time to mentally prepare for your brand of domination. Now I give you time to prepare for mine. I want your decision by Thursday. If you say yes, I'll give you half before and then half after. No getting out of it, unless you want to go find seven and a half million dollars elsewhere."

"No."

I meet surprise. "No?"

"No." I can throw that smile right back at her. "I don't do that."

It's a duel of willful smiles. "Maybe money isn't enough to sway you, but…" she unbuttons her jacket, showing me her cleavage. Almost compelling. "Do you love me, Ira?"

I want to touch her, but I don't. Instead, I curl my fingers into the jacket I'm holding, hoping it's enough to hold me back. "Of course I love you. And I don't say that lightly."

"Do you want to be with me?" Her voice is so soft that I almost don't hear the plea within it. "Do you want me?"

"That should go without saying."

"Then do this at least once. I want to dominate you, Ira. I want to see you in front of my feet, worshiping the ground I walk on. I want to take you to the edge and back again. I want you to feel the way you make me feel."

The way I make her feel…

"Once. If you really don't like it afterward, then I'll never ask it of you again."

"And I'll get the money for my business."

"Funny how that all works out."

Funny, indeed.

"Like I told you, you've got until Thursday." Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and I smell her breath on my lips. When she kisses me, it's like a one-two punch to my heart and my arousal. "After that," no, come back, kiss me again, "I will assume you're not interested. In the money." Kathleen pulls away, sullen. "Or me."

I leave in a daze, my senses full of Kathleen Allen. Her scent in my nose, her voice in my ear, her touch on my lips, and the taste of her tongue on mine. Her image remains in my brain down in the elevator.

"I will assume you're not interested in the money… or me."

I text her.

"You know I'm interested in both."

It's not my final answer.