Page 10 of Compelled Obedience

She was everything a man could want but we’d never had a single moment of interest in each other. We were merely friends, once living in the same crowded apartment building. She’d been an ingénue then while I’d been a miser, saving every penny for the club. We’d made a pledge to each other all those years ago. We’d be each other’s plus one for important engagements and award shows. We’d also commiserate over bottles of tequila, spewing our secrets when necessary. It had been a beautiful friendship up to this point.

While reporters had continued to try to flush out a wedding date, we laughed at the ridiculous concept. Besides, she was in love with another woman, their passion the thing romance novels were written for.

“If you say so, darling,” I told her casually.

“You know I’m right. You have every woman in this room longing to crawl into your bed, but you couldn’t care less. My guess is you could command four million dollars for a chance at a passionate tryst. What do you think? I could start a call for bids.” She threw her head back and laughed, along with several other guests from whatever joke the presenter had offered.

“And you know better than anyone else the women in the room bore the hell out of me.”

“That’s right. You want an innocent flower you can mold to your kinky necessities.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“Absolutely not, although I doubt you’ll find that girl in LA. We’re all tainted.”

“My darling, you are very down to earth. I’ve seen you without makeup, remember?”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” she cooed as she punched me on the arm playfully. “If you do, I’ll let the entire world know you keep baseball cards from when you were a kid.”

“Hey. They’re worth a mint today.”

Candace rolled her eyes. “Pay attention. You’re about to have the golden light shining down on your broad shoulders once again.”

I hadn’t been paying attention. In truth, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the lovely young woman sitting behind the violin. There was something about her passion for the music, the way her head moved with every pull of the bow that pulled me into a story. However, my interest wasn’t pure. My visions were filthy and as sadistic as my tastes.

I wanted her tied to my bed, naked and spread-eagled with a mask, waiting for my return. I craved collaring and leashing her, spending hours dragging my tongue across her heated skin, burying my face in her pussy. Briefly, I closed my eyes, envisioning marks from my belt on her rounded bottom. I could almost feel the heat tingling the rough pads of my fingers. My reaction was unusual to say the least. Very few women had pulled me into a delicious, dark abyss.

Given there’d been two in two days, my hunger would need to be satisfied quickly or I wouldn’t be able to function as expected. Chuckling to myself, I leaned forward, studying the violinist intently.

I could tell she was frustrated being required to wait to escape the pomp and circumstances until the award was handed out. She appeared bored, or maybe her expression was one of disgust. Not that I blamed her. Four hundred people were sitting in a room where the chairs were gilded in gold, red velvet drapes accenting the massive thirty-foot windows in the ballroom, chandeliers of Swarovski crystals looming only feet above the crowd. From the three hundred dollar a plate caviar to the Kristal champagne running like water, opulence was in full display when there were children all over the city who would go hungry tonight.

“We are thrilled that this year’s Humanitarian of the Year award goes to a man who prides himself in attention to detail, able to turn a single dollar into one thousand within seconds. His work for the underprivileged children in our community has been phenomenal, tireless.”

God. I hated the man. I sat back with a hard jerk, tossing my napkin on the table.

“I can see how you win friends and influence enemies,” Candace said sarcastically. “He’s laying it on a little thick.” She batted her long eyelashes, determined to tease me relentlessly.

“Yes, his way of handling people he can’t stand.”

“This gentleman has funded various arts programs from music to ceramics, providing the infrastructure and instruments as well as contributing millions to our inner-city schools, so those children can have at least one hot meal a day. He is to be celebrated as a true hero.”

Star Angel’s comments from the night before rushed into the forefront of my mind.

“Don’t mind me, I think I’m going to be sick,” Candace purred.

I smacked her on the leg as it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

“So, without further ado. Please lift up your hearts and open your wallets as we pay homage to the man of the hour. Mr. Grant Wilde.”

Every word dripped of sarcasm but in a town where it was used as a training tool for future stars and other moguls, no one paid any attention.

“Knock ‘em dead, tiger. I’ll have a treat for you when you return.”

I stood then leaned over, giving her the obligatory kiss on the cheek, which would be captured in the morning news. It was okay to have a fake girlfriend, more for Candace’s sake than my own. However, a deal was a deal. I headed toward the stage, taking another longing look at the stunning girl. Now I was certain she had rolled her eyes, her repulsion written on her face.

It would seem I was batting less than ten percent in the last few days. As the applause became thunderous, I took a deep breath. The fact that most of these people didn’t care about where their money went to, only that their donation helped with their taxes disgusted me. They were nothing but frauds.

When the applause died down, I stepped up to the microphone.

---