Page 31 of His to Keep
My throat tightens and tears fill my eyes. I don’t know what to do. The last thing I want is to anger Luke. At the same time, the thought of blatantly disobeying Aden has my blood running cold. He’s told me several times how important his client is, and how essential it is to properly entertain him tonight. How displeased he would be if I fail to do my part. I know very well what happens when I disappoint Aden and the memory of those lashings isn’t likely to leave me soon.
“You’re terrified,” Luke says, sounding dismayed. “Are you scared of me? I’m sorry I lost my temper. I would never hurt you.”
That just makes the tears come faster. Because I know he wouldn’t hurt me. I may have only known him for a short time, but it’s more than enough to know he’s very different from my current dominant. “I’m not scared of you.”
His face clouds. “So it’s him you’re afraid of.”
“I…I’m sorry—”
“Fuck, Rebecca,” he mutters, running his hands through his hair. “It’s not supposed to be like this. Don’t you understand? You shouldn’t be afraid of your dom. This whole thing is supposed to be about trust.”
I shake my head, so confused. There’s a part of me that wants to agree with him, that wants to trust this rough, powerful man in front of me. To do whatever he says, starting with cancelling on Aden. But there’s another part of me—the part that my dominant so carefully trained—that can’t imagine disobeying him. Even for Luke.
You’re going to talk to him,I remind myself.You’re going to tell him that you’re ready to move on.I just have to wait until after this client meeting.
“Mr. Davis?” a voice calls from the hallway. Emily. I stare up at Luke, waiting for him to answer, to move, to let me free from the prison of his body. He stays still, staring down at me with those dark eyes, so filled with battling emotions I can barely decipher them.
“Luke.”
He groans in frustration and steps back, allowing me to scurry out from under his arm. He watches me for a long moment while I straighten my skirt and smooth my hair, his expression unreadable. Finally he sighs and turns to the door. “I have to go back to the office,” he says, voice curt.
“Oh…okay,” I stammer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this cold with me, and the realization that I might have pushed him away for good hurts way more than it should. Isn’t this what I want?
“I’ll stay and make sure the caterers are all set for the evening,” I say.
“Thank you.” I hate the flat formal tone of his voice so much. The passionate, hot-blooded man who just pushed me against the wall and demanded I leave my dom is nowhere to be seen and I can’t stand it.
“Luke—”
But he doesn’t let me finish. He merely strides from the room, leaving me alone and confused and wondering how badly I just screwed everything up.
Luke
Ifeel like I’m going insane. The thought of Rebecca at the club with Roth makes me want to rip every dish from this table. The fear I saw in her eyes when she remembered their meeting makes me feel physically sick. She shouldn’t be with him. How in the hell can I convince her of that?
I somehow do a passable job of entertaining my investors. None of them seem bothered by my dark mood. Or maybe they’re just used to me scowling.
I barely notice when the caterers come out to clear our plates. I invite everyone to stay for brandy and cigars out on the terrace, wishing they’d turn me down. But they don’t, of course. Rich people are far more stingy than most would imagine, and no one here is going to pass up good liquor when it’s free.
A tall blonde approaches me as I swirl the dark liquid in my tumbler, trying hard not to think about what Rebecca might be doing at this moment. “Luke, it’s so good to have you back,” she says, her voice husky and dripping with sex. I eye her, trying to determine if I know her. She’s here with Kent Peterson tonight, arm candy for one of my earliest investors. She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m sure we don’t have any connection beyond Peterson.
“We had a productive time in Asia,” I say shortly. I’m not in the mood to be hit on by someone else’s date.
She giggles, the sound shrill and not natural for this husky-voiced woman. “Of course you did. You’re Luke Davis.” She says it like that should make some kind of sense to me, but I honestly could not care less.
Undeterred by my lack of reaction, she leans in closer. “You know, I’d been hoping Kent would bring me to another of your dinners.”
“Is that so.” My eyes dart around the terrace, looking for some excuse to get away from her. Peterson is over by the patio table, talking with Hawkins and Smith, completely oblivious.
“Oh yes,” she says, voice turning breathy as she leans in even closer. “I find your company so fascinating.”
I’ve barely said more than a dozen sentences tonight, and most of them about work. So very fascinating, I’m sure.
“Haven’t you been dating Kent for a while?” I ask pointedly.
“Of course.” She giggles again, tossing her head this time. “But he doesn’t really care if I occasionally find someone else to keep me company.” I would have to be unconscious to not pick up her meaning. Especially when she presses her tits against my bicep. They’re big and fake and even though she’s not wearing a bra, they do absolutely nothing for me. The only tits my dick is interested in anymore belong to Rebecca.
Rebecca, who is currently out with another man.
