Page 16 of Married to My Master

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. Without a word, he went and grabbed her phone from the other room and returned with it. “Who are we calling?” he asked, as he stood over her.

“I can't hold it?”

He shook his head. “I can dial for you and hold it to your ear. Now, who are we calling, Emily?”

She sighed. She'd thought about calling the cops when she went with this ploy, but knew that they wouldn't get there in time, even if she had. Still, though, she'd wanted to actually hold the phone in her hand, just to be able to show some sort of independence from him.

Apparently, though, it wasn't to be.

“Who are we calling?” he asked again.

“Edward Barker,” she said, a resigned sigh escaping her lips.

He opened her phone—she never bothered to lock it—and pulled up Edward's info. “It's ringing,” he said, as he put the phone next to her ear.

It rang two more times as she tried to sit up a little. Then Edward answered. “Emily? What the hell's going on? Why aren't you at the conference? The organizers are frantic!”

“Slow down, Edward,” Emily said, her voice automatically switching back into commanding bitch mode, even as she looked up and locked gazes with her overbearing captor, “I've just had a car accident overnight. I'm fine, but doctors say I'm not fit to travel or work for a while.”

“Oh my God,” Edward said on the other line. “Are you okay?”

“I'll live,” she said, truthfully. She hoped. “But, listen, I need you to book a flight ASAP and get out there to take over while I'm out of action. Can you do that for me?”

“Can I do that?” Edward asked, his voice perking up at the opportunity to undercut her at such an important function. “Of course I can!”

Emily lowered her eyes and stifled a groan of disgust at his blatant display of opportunism. “Thanks Edward. Let everyone know I'll be back as soon as I'm well.”

“Will do, Emily,” Edward said, before hastily hanging up without a goodbye. Clearly, he was desperate to get the flight booked and the schedule rearranged so he could deliver his speech in the slot reserved for her.

Her stomach dropped as she thought about how all she'd done with that call was to put Edward one step closer to cutting her out. She looked up at Dane and nodded. “See?” she asked, as she slumped back into the pillow. “That's all it took.”

He took the phone away and turned off the screen.

Now all she had to do was stay awake and keep resisting. Her staying awake as long as she wanted would wipe that look off Dane's face. He didn't deserve to have the satisfaction of breaking her.

Too bad she wouldn't have a say in the matter.

# # #

Dane

He pulled out another syringe full of the same sedative he'd found earlier in her purse. Whether she stayed away or went to sleep was no longer her choice to make. She needed to learn that, and the sooner she did, the faster this would go.

Emily saw the syringe in his hand and reacted immediately, shaking her head and beginning to beg as she struggled against the nylon cords holding her in place. “Oh, please, Dane, no. I even helped you keep my company off your back. Don't inject me, please.”

“Sorry, Emily,” he replied, “but it's not your choice.”

She made a whining noise as he stabbed the sedative into her naked thigh and pressed down on the plunger. He withdrew the needle from her flesh and she groaned. “I fucking hate you,” she said, without fire or passion.

Dane watched her as she drifted off to sleep. When she was finally unconscious, he left the room and headed back into the rest of the large house.

He'd explored it a little bit after he'd tied her up the afternoon before, but having to keep her awake with the vibrator had required his focus, so he hadn't had a chance to complete his search. Now, though, he knew he'd have the time.

As he walked around, bottle of bourbon in hand, he marveled at the luxury of the place. For someone who lived all alone, this place might as well have been a big, lonely castle. Benton had a pretty big house, Dane figured, with four bedrooms to just three people. But, even that seemed like a hovel next to Emily's home.

He wandered into her office, bitterly musing about how some people just had too damned much. Some people had more than they needed, that was for sure. For instance, she had a backyard and a garden she couldn't even do anything with. Hell, he'd wandered into rooms here that looked like the only time someone had entered them was when they were decorated. It was a damn shame that someone like her had someplace like this.

Emily's office was dominated by a large, messy desk constructed from some hard wood—maybe oak or walnut. Built-in bookshelves lined the walls, old encyclopedias and law books filling the shelves just for show. Dane sat down behind the desk, put his bottle of bourbon whiskey on the wood, and began to pull open drawers at random.

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