Page 2 of On His Terms

His grip was warm, firm, reassuring. Electricity shimmied up her spine. This close, he was even more gorgeous. Small lines were etched next to his captivating green eyes, and his lips were firm and full. The crazy notion of kissing him skipped through her mind before she ruthlessly shoved it away. She had a business proposition for him, nothing more.

When he released her, she felt strangely bereft. “Who are you here with, Ms. Barton?”

“Uh…a friend,” she hedged.

“Are you always evasive?”

“Are you always so direct?”

He folded his arms across his magnificent chest. “Save us both some time and cut through the bullshit. It’s my birthday, my party, and I approved the guest list. I saw you speaking with Sara. As she is pretending not to look at us, I assume you wanted to meet me for a specific reason. Because I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you thirty seconds. Start talking.”

Suddenly she wished she’d taken a drink of that water. “You’re right,” she confessed. Because he was direct, she responded in kind. “I came here specifically to meet you.” Quickly she added, “But not for the reason you might think.” She hoped that comment was intriguing enough to buy her an extra minute of his time. “I own a company named You’re The Star. We do PR.”

“Monahan Capital has a PR firm.”

“Who should have done a better job of spinning the Bartholomew deal initially, but they’ve been passable since then.” When all he did was arch an eyebrow, she pushed on. “However, if you did a couple of events in the community, such as a fundraiser, your positive press would shove the other headlines from the first page of the search engines. But that’s not my point.” Since he was still listening, she kept talking. “I sought you out because I want you to train me as a submissive, and I understand that you’re the best.”

“At one time that was true.”

From his mouth, his flat statement didn’t sound arrogant.

“But I’m quite sure you’ve heard I don’t train anymore.”

She pushed back the trepidation that had started doing the backstroke in her veins. The years had taught her a valuable lesson—when she wasn’t getting what she wanted, she needed to turn up the charm.

Gently, she placed her hand on his arm. When he didn’t react, she continued, “I’m sure a man as discerning as you has high expectations and demands excellence. I understand that it comes at a cost. Name your price, and I’ll write you a check.”

He didn’t respond to her tactics. In fact, his jawline could have been chiseled from granite. “I’m not for sale, Ms. Barton.”

She gave up on charm and dropped her hand.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Evan C and a woman were heading toward the stairs. Although she hadn’t seen it, she understood Master Damien had a dungeon with some private play rooms. Seeing Evan C with someone who should have been her only increased her resolve. “You’re a businessman. Better than anyone, you understand that everyone has a price.”

“What’s yours?” Master Alexander countered. “Selling your soul for success?”

“That’s harsh.” Chelsea blinked. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“On the contrary. I know you will use manipulation in order to get what you want.”

She pulled back.

“If you want this conversation to continue, be honest.” His tone was as icy as a cold front that raged down from the Arctic.

Chelsea hadn’t expected this to be so difficult. She’d figured most Doms would love to have a sub begging for their attention. Her offer of money should have sealed the deal. “I want Evan C to hire my company and accept me as his submissive.”

“And you think some training will intrigue him?”

“It will.”

“You sound convinced.”

She recalled the party they’d been at. “He snubbed me once because I was too new.” Seeing him toss his scarf over his shoulder as he’d walked away had stung.

“What kind of experience do you have?” Master Alexander asked.

“Not much,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Be specific.”

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