Rebecca's Forgotten Journals + Bonuses and Extras Collection Read online

  Lying to Amanda had been one thing. Lying to him, well, you don’t lie to Mark Compton. Those gray eyes of his just see right to the soul. “No. He did not.”

  I’d just admitted lying to Amanda, and he’d stood there, staring at me, assessing me in that way he assesses me, and really everyone. And then, he’s just pushed off the door and left. And this is the thing. When Mark Compton comes in the room, he charges the air, and consumes it. When he leaves, it’s like a bubble being deflated. He takes all that energy with him. My shoulders had slumped and I’d sucked in air. That’s when the sweet, and almost spicy scent of the marigolds had teased my nostrils. I’d sat up and stared at them and it had hit me that while Bossman has been assessing me, maybe judging me, I’d been judging me, too. I’ve been doing a lot of judging myself, and maybe, just maybe I need to be with someone who isn’t judging me.

  I’d opened my drawer and pulled out Alex’s card, before punching his number in. I’d then stood up, and walked to the door where I’d shut it, and then before I could stop myself, I’d hit the call button. He’d answered on the first ring. “Rebecca.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “I just knew. You got the flowers?”

  “Yes,” I’d said, my gaze landing on the orange blossoms where they’d sat on my desk. “They’re lovely.”

  “You’re lovely,” he’d said. “Listen. Rebecca. I’m in Aspen on business.”

  “Oh I’m sorry,” I’d said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t. Have you ever been here?”

  “No. I hear it’s beautiful.”

  “It is. I want you to come here. I’ll fly you here to me. I’ll get you your own room. No pressure at all for more than just dinner and a chance to get to know you.”

  I was stunned. I stumbled over my words when I never stumble over my words. “I…This is… I have to work.”

  “It’s Friday. Aren’t you off for the weekend?

  “I work Saturday.”

  “Then I’ll have a private jet waiting on you when you get off.”

  “I have to work Monday.”

  “And I’ll have you back there. I’ll send you a list of character references. I need to be here. And I need you to be here, too.”

  Need. He needs me. “This is crazy.”

  “Life is short, sweetheart. You have to live it. Live this part of it with me.”

  Life is short. Those words had resonated with me. They have even before he spoke them. They’d become my motto after my mother had died. They are why I dared a job in the competitive, often low paying art world, and I’d made it work.

  “Say yes, Rebecca,” he’d pressed.

  I’d dared the art world. I’d dared to be submissive. And I’d decided right then, to dare do take an adventure. “Yes,” I’d said, and I could almost hear Alex smiling through the phone.

  “Excellent,” he’d replied. “What time do you want the plane to be ready?”

  “Five.”

  “Five it is. I’ll text you the arrangements when I’ve made them. See you soon.”

  “See you soon.”

  We’d ended that call, and I’d had butterflies in my belly. I still do. I’m going to Aspen.

  With Alex.

  Chapter Nine

  Saturday 6 pm

  I’m on a private jet on my way to Aspen. I’m excited and nervous, in good ways, which I didn’t think was possible earlier today, but I attribute that to the encounter I just had with him right before I left for the airport. Yes. Him. My ex-master. I’d just finished work, and my taxi had no showed. There’s a convention in town, and it was nearly impossible to get a cab apparently. While a plane waited for me on a runway. I had to cancel so Alex could stop paying whatever fee that must be costing him. Aspen, I’d decided, just wasn’t meant to be.

  Decision made, I’d walked, with my bag, to the coffee shop to grab a coffee, only because I’d been by for the gallery staff earlier and knew the owner of the shop wasn’t in today. Which mattered, because I really hadn’t been in the mood to have her look me up and down and judge me, but then is anyone ever in the mood to be judged? I really don’t understand why Ava behaves that way. She’s stunningly gorgeous. Owns a coffee shop so clearly has courage to take risks and be her own person. I’d admire her if she treated people kindly, but it’s not just me that she’s nasty to. But that is another story.

  Bottom line. Ava was gone so I went in to the coffee shop for a White Mocha. Once I’d had it in hand, I’d settled down at a table in a corner and dialed Alex, who’d answered right away. “Rebecca,” he’d said in this warm, smoky kind of voice. And he’d said my name like it brought him pleasure and it made me think about the ways he might bring me pleasure. Romantic ways. Sexy ways. Not handcuffs, blindfolds, and spankings. It just feels like it will be different with him.

  “Where are you now?” he’d asked. “The plane is waiting on you.”

  “I can’t get a taxi,” I’d said. “There’s a convention in town. I should just-”

  “I’ll send a car. Where are you?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I say. “It’s so late and-”

  “I really want to see you,” he’d said. “Come see me, Rebecca.”

  I’d had this warm feeling in my chest when he’d said my name again. “Okay,” I’d said and I’d given him my location.

  “The car will be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll call you when it pulls up.”

  He’d hung up and I’d started, finally, to let myself look forward to seeing him, but my hand had gone to the ring dangling on the chain at my neck, but not intentionally. Almost like my subconscious knew it was there, and knew it was a problem. It ties me to another man, after all. It took me a full five minutes to convince myself to do it, but I’d take then necklace, the ring, off. Once I’d tucked it into my purse pocket and zipped it up, I’d gotten anxious to get to the airport, and headed to the door watch for the car.

  That’s when he had walked in. He was wearing my favorite suit he owns. A blue suit with a blue tie, that softens those hard, calculating eyes of his. But it’s also the suit he’d been wearing the day I’d met him.

  “Rebecca,” he’d said, and when he’d said my name, his tone had been impossible to read. There wasn’t seduction there. There wasn’t even torment or loss. Because you see, that’s his way. He doesn’t show emotion. That’s why, in intimate moments, when he’d allowed me to see the pain and torment in his eyes I’d felt he trusted me.

  “Hi,” I’d said, because nothing more brilliant came to me.

  “Let me buy you a coffee,” he’d said.

  “I have a coffee,” I’d said, showing him the cup in my hand, and now, looking back, since I’d been exiting the coffee shop, he had to have known that, even without seeing my drink.

  “Stay with me while I order mine.”

  It wasn’t a question but a command. And one I decline to follow. “I can’t,” I’d said.

  “Can’t?” His eyes had sharpened. Why?”

  My phone had rang then and I’d scooped it out of my pocket and answered. “Hi,” I’d said, because why wouldn’t I greet two men the same way in five minutes?

  “The car is there,” Alex had said.

  “I’m about to walk outside now,” I’d replied.

  “See you soon, beautiful,” he’d said, the charming endearment, warming my cheeks.

  I’d ended the call and found my former master staring at me. “You have a date.”

  “Yes. I have a date.”

  He glances at my neck. “And you took off the ring.”

  “Yes,” I’d confirmed. “I took it off.”

  He stared at me several beats and then to my disappointment, said simply, “Have a good night, Rebecca.”

  It had hurt. It does hurt. He essentially was letting me go. I’d stepped around him and exited to the then quiet San Francisco street, and the driver was holding the rear door
of a limo open for me. I’d reached the door, and hesitated before I got into the car. I’d thought about being fair to Alex. If I got into that car, I needed to really be present with him this weekend. I needed to forget the man who’d just let me go, and really, enjoy a man, who called me beautiful and said my name like it was sex and seduction. I had to choose between the Master and the Dream Man.

  I’d handed my bag to the man and gotten in the limo, obviously, since I’m writing this from a plane, but I’d felt my ex-master watching as I did. And when the door had shut, it had felt like me letting him go. And so, here I am and the truth is, I’m ready for this. I didn’t think I was, but it’s amazing how one encounter actually did what I didn’t think was possible. Set me free.

  Chapter Ten

  Sunday midnight

  I don’t even know where to begin. I’m just home from my weekend with Alex and he treated me like a princess. And the thing about being treated like a princess that none of us wants to admit, is that it only matters if you’re being treated like a princess by someone you want to treat you like a princess. If it’s the wrong guy we try to convince ourselves he should be the right guy, but the outcome is the same. No matter how well intended, the princess treatment fails.

  Alex did not fail.

  From the moment I arrived in the Aspen, he seduced me and not just my body. He listened to me. He made me laugh. I’d landed at the small airport to a private car waiting on me the moment I got out of the plane. A driver had held the door for me. At that moment, I thought I wasn’t going to enjoy myself. It had just felt like all the times my master sent a car to pick me up. But then I’d climbed in the back for the car and found Alex was there waiting. I remember being struck by his dark good looks, a polar opposite of the man I’ve called Master.

  His dark good looks were accentuated by his gray suit with a blue pinstripe and a matching navy blue tie. And those brown eyes of his burned with amber heat, the way he looked at me with such piercing intensity had stirred a physical reaction in me. My skin had warmed and my nipples pebbled, an ache forming in my sex. He hadn’t even spoken and I wanted him. At that point, I hadn’t wanted to have that reaction. I didn’t want to crave him or want him. I absolutely didn’t want to feel desire so intense that it became a need. I rejected that possibility despite my body telling me it was possible. Some part of me still felt it betrayed my master. But then I’d flashed back to another limo and another night.

  My master had sent me sexy, black heels, and a skimpy black dress with a note that had read: No bra and no panties. It was not a dress I’d wear without a bra and panties. The bodice was fitted, my breast barely concealed. The bottom half sheer in the light. But I would be wearing it for him, not me, or anyone else. I’d dressed, and walked outside to the limo waiting on me, and after the emotional connection we’d shared during sex the night before I’d hoped we were going to his house. I’d feared we’d go to his sex club where he’d put distance between us. It was worse. Master Two, as I’ve come to call him, was there. This man who my master trusts enough to share me. Who he always calls to join us when he feels we’re getting too close.

  I’d slipped into the car and they sat side by side in front of me. My master’s eyes had met mine, and I’d seen hardness in them. He’d shut me out and this was all about him showing me that fact. Proving it to him and me. “Show us how to please you,” he’d ordered.

  “Show me,” Master Two had commanded. “Move her in front of me.”

  My master had given me a slight incline of his head. My lips had firmed and I’d considered saying “no” but this is apart of being submissive. He commands. I obey. I’d scooted in front of Master Two and at his command slid my dress up my legs.

  “Show me,” he’d ordered, and I’d then touched myself. And he’d touched me. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to feel pleasure. But I had. And that was the wall my master wanted between us.

  Some might think that I am crazy for allowing Master Two to be a part of our play but it’s in the contract. And that contact protects you physically by setting boundaries but it also protects you emotionally by setting boundaries. As it did with my master that night.

  I’d blinked back to the present, to Alex sitting in front of me in that limo, and before either of us had even spoken, I’d had that memory create a realization. No matter what my master’s intentions, no matter what his reasons for his actions, he’d created a wall that night and on many other occasions, but each time, he’d cut me just a little deeper. And I’m not sure you ever heal from that many wounds.

  That’s why when Alex had finally spoken and said, “I’m glad you’re here, beautiful,” it had hit me, that we are fresh and new, without any walls, without any pain. And this was a premise I found as alluring as the man.

  Alex had offered me a glass of champagne then and I’d nervously gulped it down when I have learned never to gulp alcohol. I don’t handle well, so I’ve learned at wine tastings at the gallery, to make a glass last. But I didn’t. I’d been nervous for the first time in a long time. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Alex had refilled my glass then and when our hands had touched the charge that sparked would have made me weak-kneed had I been standing. He knew. I’d seen it in his eyes. They’d darkened, sharpened. He wanted me and I wanted him.

  I’d been certain we’d go to the hotel then and I’d probably do something I might, or might not, regret. And we did go to the fancy five-star property. Only, when we exited the car and he’d turned to me and offered me his arm it was clear he had no intention of taking me to bed.

  “It’s a warm summer night,” he said. “How about we walk the town?”

  He’d wanted to walk the town and spend time with me. I’d been charmed. And so we had walked and I’d been enamored by the quaint little town. Surprised that Aspen isn’t glitz and glam like you’d think when you hear about Hollywood types visiting. It’s just a cute town with stores, craft booths, and of course, food. And during off season, it’s a ghost town at night. So we just walked and talked. He’d asked me about my mother, and I’d dared to share her death by cigarettes, which is how I think of her lung cancer. He’d listened and offered insightful thoughts. He’d then ask about my father. I’d laughed, bitterly.

  “I have never met him but I hear he’s a mobster in Vegas. That’s why we moved away.”

  He shared with me that his father was not much better and we’d talked for hours. He’d told me he’d learned from his father to be cautious who you trust. It’s why he doesn’t do serious relationships. Maybe that was my warning, his way of telling me this was just an escape for us both. But I was hit by the difference between him and the man I’ve come to know as my ex-master. Alex leaves himself open to be surprised, to fall in love. My ex-master uses a contract to ensure he can never make that mistake. And to him, it is a mistake. I was a mistake. It’s another thought that gives me freedom to just enjoy this time with Alex.

  At some point we’d stopped to sit on bench where we’d talked art and I’d become animated when I’d realized how intensely he was once again staring at me. The next he’d been brushing his lips over mine, his hand sliding to my neck, under my hair. His tongue this gentle, seductive caress, before he’d murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”

  I couldn’t say the same to him. I’d certainly had found him overwhelmingly male and good looking when I’d first met him at a gallery event. I’d even thought of him as someone most women would want to kiss. Just not me at the time, because I had yet to open myself up to the possibility of life after my attempt at being submissive. But it didn’t matter that I couldn’t say the same to him. He’d then asked a question that had taken me off guard.

  “Who is he?”

  I’d pulled back to look at him. “What?”

  “Who’s the man I’m competing with?”

  I didn’t ask how he knows there’s someone else. I imagine I still taste like him. “The past. He�
�s the past.”

  “Is he?”

  “Yes. He is.”

  “And I’m what?”

  “Possibility,” I say.

  “I can live with that.”

  He’d brushed his lips across mine again and stood, offering me his hand. And once again he’d surprised me. We hadn’t rushed back to the hotel. We’d walked and talked more only now each word and step, each touch of our hands and even brush of our hips, seemed to seduce us, or at least me, with those possibilities.

  When we’d finally gone to the hotel, I’d discovered we were in a suite that had two bedrooms as promised. “I can get you your own room, if you’d prefer.”

  “No,” I’d said quickly. “I want to be close to you.”

  Approval had lit his eyes, and he’d opened the door. My eyes met his, and there was a silent understanding between us. My choice in this moment opens the doors to those possibilities. I’d walk into the room, decisively making my choice to find out what this is between us. Again though, he hadn’t rushed things. We’d ordered room service and ate in the living room, more champagne-filled glasses with our meal. The room had been warm or maybe it had been just me. And somehow a brush of a hand, a touch of legs, and I’d ended up on his lap, straddling him. He’d stroked hair from my face. “This doesn’t have to happen now,” he’d declared. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “I know,” I’d whispered, and amazingly, I had known. And knowing I had a choice had been the absolute most erotic part of that moment. There was no contract. There was no command. There had just been the chemistry I felt with an amazing man and the way he and I had lingered there, mouths close, just breathing together. As if we were both savoring the possibilities of all that might happen that night, and even beyond, expanding between us. It reminded me that daring to open myself to possibilities is how I found the art world again. It’s how I started to live again.