Perfect Submission

by Roxy Sloane

This book is dedicated to BC.
Thank you a million times over.

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Copyright 2014 Roxy Sloane

Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ONE: ISABELLE

TWO: CAM

THREE: ISABELLE

FOUR: CAM

FIVE: ISABELLE

SIX: CAM

SEVEN: ISABELLE

EIGHT: CAM

NINE: ISABELLE

TEN: CAM

ELEVEN: ISABELLE

ONE: ISABELLE

I don’t sleep. I’m exhausted and broken, my whole body screaming for a break, but I couldn’t sleep if I tried, not after the worst night of my life.

I’m in jail.

Holding, to be exact. That’s what the cop tells me as he hustles me down a long hallway, the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into my skin.

“You’ll be brought up for interviews in the morning,” he says gruffly. “Guess someone wants to teach you a lesson, sticking you down here for the night.”

Cam handcuffed me. My hands behind my back, he drove me crazy with pleasure. It was sexy. Forbidden. But there’s nothing sexy about the fear and panic that over takes me now, feeling these cuffs locked tight around my wrists.

“Please,” I beg him. “I need to call someone. This is all a mistake.”

“You’ll get your call in the morning.”

He comes to a stop at the end of the hall and yanks a metal door open. “Play nice with the other girls,” he snorts, unlocking my cuffs. “They won’t bite.”

I look inside and feel claustrophobic. It’s a small concrete cell, maybe fifteen feet square, with bars on three sides. There are five other women sprawled on a narrow bench or pacing the small space. Judging by their clothes and teased hair, they weren’t arrested for white collar crime.

One of them paces closer, “Not unless you ask, baby,” she coos at the cop. “But it’s extra.”

He rolls his eyes. “Go on,” he nods, but I don’t move.

This is just a nightmare, I tell myself desperately. Any minute now, you’re going to wake up.

“I said move!” There’s a hand on my back, and then I’m pushed hard. I stumble, almost falling inside before the woman catches my arm. “Easy, sugar.”

There’s laughter.

“What’s your name, honey?” The woman who helped me leers closer. Her makeup is harsh and smudged, and she stares me up and down with a whistle. “Looking fine. Where you working? Uptown?”

I can’t deal with this. I’m overwhelmed and living a nightmare come true. “No…” I mumble, my heart racing. “I don’t… I’m not…”

“What are you saying?” She moves closer. “Spit it out.”

I try to breathe. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, I can’t get enough air. “Please…” I whisper.

“You too fancy to talk to bitches like us, is that it?” another woman snorts.

“Cut it out, Devonne,” another of the women yawns. “You know those fancy girls don’t know what the fuck they’re playing at. Probably hit on a cop and got busted at one of the hotels, you know how they do.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, you’ll get off with a caution. Maybe some community service if it’s your first offense.”

The first woman, Devonne, stares at me another minute longer, trying to scare me. Suddenly, she lunges towards me. With her glassy eyes and the strange expression, it’s obvious she’s on drugs. At least the other women seem sober. I back away into the corner, facing forward so I can see if anyone comes near me.

Devonne bursts out laughing. “Fucking pussy,” she snorts. “They’ll eat you for breakfast in gen-pop.”

She saunters back to the other side of the cell. She can think she won, as long as she leaves me alone.

I take a deep breath. It takes everything I have not to cry.

I lean back against the wall, sitting with my knees hugged to my chest on a hard, narrow bench. When I was a kid, I used to play a game to hide from mom’s dealers, or the bullies in the foster homes I lived. I would hide in the smallest space I could find: a cupboard or cabinet, the crawl space under a bed. I’d close my eyes tight, and count to a hundred, and pretend that if they couldn’t see me, then I didn’t exist. It wasn’t real.

Now, I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, but the scene doesn’t change. It’s real, too real. The clatter of bars, and the chatter of the other prisoners. Down the hallway, someone is yelling, and here in the cell, it stinks of urine and vomit. Fear pounds in my bloodstream, my whole body tense and exhausted. But I need to show strength.

This is where you belong.

The whisper of accusation cuts through my attempt at a pep talk.

I try to stay calm. This is all a mistake, I just have to make it through the night here, then everything will get straightened out. I’ll go home again, and never set foot in a jail cell again. But logic isn’t my friend right now.

This is what you deserve, killer.

I shudder at the word, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? I’ve been running from my past all this time, pretending I’m not to blame, but I can’t run forever.

I accidentally set the fire that killed my abusive foster father. I left him to burn in the flames. And I was glad he was dead.

It’s true. It’s all true.

* * *

Time passes too slow, every minute in this cell feels like an hour. The other women eventually try to sleep, slumped sitting up on the bench or huddled in the corner, but I can’t relax for a second.

I can’t let my guard down, and anyway I’m too pumped up to rest.

I replay everything that happened earlier tonight, over and over in my mind. I was so happy, walking into that surprise party on Cam’s arm. My birthday, and I was surrounded by friends and celebration for what felt like the first time in my life. Sure, I’d had parties before, massive extravagant blow-outs that got written about in all the gossip columns, but they were all for show. A way to prove to the world I had everything, play-acting the role of spoiled socialite because I thought it was all I wanted.

But this time, I was with Cam. Being with him, learning everything he’s taught me, I felt more secure and at peace than ever before. On his arm, I felt cared for. Special.

Treasured.

And then Brent walked in. I can remember the look on his face, so smug and satisfied. Why did I ever think I would be free of him? He’s still the spoiled kid who wants me in his thrall. He spent years treating me like a personal plaything, and now that I’m older and stronger, he refuses to let me go. Me being with a real man like Cam is the ultimate insult to him.

Now, I’m going to pay for that insult with my life.

My chest gets tight. God, what does everyone think of me now? My darkest secret exposed for the whole world to see. Keely, Justine, Olivia – they must be sickened to know the truth about what I’ve done. Who I was.

And Cam…

I choke back a sob. He looked so angry as the cops dragged me away. I’d confided my secret to him, but I know that everything is different now. He hates the world knowing about his personal life, and now my sins will be plastered across the front page for sure. I’ve exposed us – exposed him – and I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.

Maybe he’s changed his mind about us.

My fear grows, an icy knot. If I lost Cam now… I don’t know what I’d do. He’s the only man who’s ever seen me for me – seen the good in me. Our relationship has deepened with each day; it’s not just about the sex anymore, but what his domination means to me. Freedom. Release. Security. I trust him with my life.

But can he ever trust me again?

A guard comes to cell door and barks, “Ashcroft!” The sound of my name makes me jump off the bench. I scramble to my feet, keeping my head up and my voice steady.

“That’s me.” My stomach twists. What happens to me now? It can’t be worse than this, can it?

The guard waves me over, keys jingling as he unlocks the cell door and slides it open. “Your bail’s been posted. Come with me.”

Relief hits me like a tidal wave. Oh, thank God. The other women in the cell barely stir.

I follow him down the hallway, praying that this is the last time I set foot inside a jail cell. But I know, that might not be true. If I’m charged with murder, I could spend the rest of my life in prison. I can’t deal with the thought, and I try to block it out, but my panic consumes me. I couldn’t live like this, every minute of every day. I’ve barely spent the night in that cell, and already I feel like I’m losing my mind.

What would I do for a week? A month?

Twenty-five years?

By the time we reach the main precinct lobby, I’m barely keeping it together. Faces blur together, cops and people are all staring at me. I wonder what they see: a spoiled brat getting what she deserves, or worse, the killer Brent says I am.

“Isabelle!”

A voice cuts through the commotion. I turn. Cam is striding toward me, a furious look on his face.

I cringe back in shame, but he barks at the cop. “Get those cuffs off her!”

His voice is harsh. The cop fumbles to obey him.

“Come with me,” Cam says, taking my arm.

“My things…” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I have them. Let’s go.”

My emotions are a whirl as he leads me out of the lobby and down a back hallway. He’s angry, I knew he would be. He can’t even look at me.

“Where are we going?” I whisper, hating myself for putting him through this.

“The back exit. There’s paparazzi all around the front. Vultures.”

The newspapers. They’ll have a field day with this. And then even people who weren’t at the party will know the truth. There’ll be no hiding after this, no running away from my problems the way I came so close to doing.

Maybe I should have run, when I had the chance. I would have spared Cam the humiliation of guiding me through the precinct, a total mess from my night in jail.

He takes me down a staircase and through a fire exit out back. We’re in a parking lot; his car pulls up in front of us, and Cam opens the door for me.

But I can’t get in. I can’t take another step, not with this tension on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, choking up. “I’m so, so sorry. I know you must hate me, but I never meant to drag you into this. Just drop me at a hotel.”

Cam turns now, frowning. “What are you talking about?

I swallow. “You don’t need to do anything else for me. You’ve already done so much.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Cam takes my cheek, forcing me to look at him. His eyes blaze darkly. “Isabelle, I don’t hate you!”

“But you’re angry—”

“At Brent!” he explodes. “At myself for not protecting you! At the waste of space foster dad who started all of this. But not you. God, Isabelle, I could never be angry at you. Not for this.”

The tension in my chest splinters. “So, you don’t want to end this?” I sob, finally giving in to the tears I’ve been holding back all night.

Cam cradles my face tenderly. “No. You’re mine, Isabelle. You belong to me just the same as you did before tonight. That means we’re in this together.” He draws me closer, to rest against his strong chest. “I promise, I’ll fix this.”

I used to be able to handle things on my own, but now that I’ve found Cam, I’ve let my guard down. I’ve gotten soft. I need him.

I collapse into his embrace, relief surging through my veins. “I can’t do this without you,” I gasp, holding him tightly. “I’m so scared, Cam.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I’m here. Whatever it takes, I’ll protect you,” he promises. “I swear, everything will be OK.”

“But how can it be?” Because the truth is, I’m not innocent.

“I’m your Master, aren’t I?” he demands, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

I nod, loving the sound of those words on his lips.

“Then trust me. That’s an order.”

TWO: CAM

I try my best to keep my anger under control, for Isabelle’s sake. She’s scared and vulnerable right now, and I can’t imagine what she’s been through tonight. The last thing she needs is my rage too.

Not at her, but Brent. The cops. Every person who laid a hand on her tonight and brought such fear to her eyes. I want to tear them all limb from limb.

But most of all, I’m furious at myself.

I’m the one who let her down. When she confessed her dark secrets, I promised everything would be OK. But I stood, powerless, as they led her off in handcuffs from the party tonight: humiliated and exposed in front of everyone. I had to let that happen; there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for letting her down.

The city lights speed past the car windows as my driver takes us back to my place. Isabelle is curled against me, holding me tight like she’s scared someone will drag her away again.

It took all my influence and power to get her released tonight. I followed the cops to the precinct, and spent hours pacing angrily in the lobby, calling everyone I could think of. Between Keely, Ash, and myself, we managed to get a judge out of bed for an emergency bail hearing. They set the bond at $1m, but I paid it without a second thought.

I’d pay anything to keep her safe.

But I can’t, not from this. She’ll have to face the world tomorrow: press, the public, and police interviews. What happened with her foster father’s death was an accident, she should never have been arrested, but if they’ve charged her with murder, there’s something more to the story. Some way Brent was able to dig up the past and bring every horrific memory flooding back for her.

I hold Isabelle tighter. They’re not going to take her away from me again. I meant what I promised her-- I’ll find a way out of this, somehow.

Brent is going to pay.

Back at the apartment, Isabelle follows me inside, still holding my hand tightly. I take her to the bathroom and turn on the shower, then help her undress and clean off under the hot water. I wrap her in soft towels, and lead her out into the bedroom. She’s still shaking, her eyes darting nervously around as if she expects the cops to come storming in again.

“You’re safe here,” I reassure her, but she shakes her head.

“I have to go back, don’t I? To the police station, to court. They’ll want to interrogate me, and…” she struggles for air. “I can’t,” she shakes her head, biting her lower lip. “I can’t do this, Cam! I can’t go to jail for the rest of my life!”

“You won’t.”

“But you can’t promise me that,” Isabelle tells me, tears spilling down her cheeks. “If they put me on trial, if they find me guilty…. And why wouldn’t they? I killed him. It’s all true! I deserve to suffer for it.”

“Shh,” I wrap my arms around her again. She’s trembling like a leaf. “You don’t, you know that’s not true. It was an accident.”

“Was it?” Isabelle pulls away. “What if I really did kill him, and I just blocked it out or something? It’s all a blur, it was so long ago, and I was so scared… But I was glad when I heard he’d died. Only a terrible person would feel glad!”

Her eyes glisten with tears again.

“You were just a girl,” I try to calm her. “You were scared, but you wouldn’t have hurt him on purpose, Isabelle. It’s not in you to cause that kind of pain.”

And anyway, that bastard deserved it.

“No,” Isabelle sobs. “It’s not true, I can’t… I can’t…” She gasps for air, shaking. She’s having some kind of panic attack, consumed with fear.

“Isabelle!” I stride over and take her by the arms. “Listen to me.”

She tries to pull away, bent double now, wheezing. She’s not listening, she’s too far gone. Sympathy and understanding won’t work, not with her in this panic. Only one thing will bring her back, cut through this chaos she’s drowning in.

Her Master.

“Isabelle.” I drop my voice, low and steely. “Stop this right now. That’s an order.”

She stills, lifting her head. She’s still panicky, but there’s a hopeful look in her eyes, waiting for my next words.

“Good girl.” I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, lifting it higher. I stare into her eyes. “Now breathe for me. In, out. In, out.”

Isabelle gulps a ragged breath, then another.

“Better.”

I hold her there in that position until her breathing becomes steadier. Her blue eyes are wide and teary, she’s hanging on by a thread.

But she’s holding on.

Again, I marvel at her instincts to submit. Even through her emotions, she wants to please me. She wants to surrender to my will. No: she needs to.

Her gaze flickers to the bed.

I step backwards. A part of me wants to curl up with her on the bed and rock her to sleep in my arms, but I have to stifle that desire. That’s not what she needs from me right now.

She needs me to master her, to be totally in control. Strip away her fear, and give her something more to focus on.

“Take off your robe,” I order her.

Isabelle looks at me, unsure.

“You need to forget about what just happened,” I state simply. “I promise you, there won’t be room in that pretty head of yours for fear or doubt when you’re moaning in ecstasy. I have a hundred ways to make you forget your own name. So I’ll order you only once more. Take. Off. Your. Robe.”

Relief flashes on Isabelle’s face. Just as I anticipated, she wants to surrender, to not have to make a single decision for herself tonight. To be taken care of.

She unbelts her robe and lets it drop to the floor. Then she throws her shoulders back and lifts her chin, but like a good sub she knows to keep her eyes down.

Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

Blood rushes to my cock as I slowly take in the view. Her golden skin is still damp from the shower, each high, perfect breast tipped with a rapidly-stiffening nipple. Her flat stomach leads down to the apex of her thighs, and her long, coltish legs.

I take my time admiring her, knowing that the anticipation is already pounding through her body, chasing away the fear and pain. I pace in a slow circle around her, drinking in every detail as her breath quickens – this time not in panic, but arousal.

I come to a stop behind her, admiring that firm peach of an ass. I slide one hand over the curve and then bring it down in a resolute slap.

Isabelle groans.

“I should give you a good spanking,” I murmur, leaning closer. I let my lips graze the curve of her neck, noting the way Isabelle’s breath hitches and her nipples tighten into stiff peaks. Everything else has faded away. All that matters is her response to my words and touch: I want to consume her with this need I feel, overwhelm every sense until she only registers my voice, my orders, the ache of her own tender flesh.

I wrap my hand in her silken hair and tug it to one side, exposing the curve of pale flesh.

I lick along her throat. She lets out a breathy moan.

I move my hands around to her front, not touching a single part of her body until I pinch her rosy nipple between my thumb and forefingers.

The moan turns into a whimper.

“I have some clamps I’ve been wanting to use” I tell her, pinching tighter. Her body shudders in response, and I see her bare thighs clench.

She’ll be wet by now. Wet and ready for me.

“Would you like that, my pet? To clamp these tight nipples in cold, hard steel, make you feel the bliss of their exquisite pain?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

I pinch harder, rolling the tender flesh between my fingers until Isabelle yelps. But I don’t stop, I keep up the pressure, pinching and releasing, over and over until she’s gasping for air and her legs are unsteady.

“Don’t move,” I warn her sternly. “You stay still right there until I say, unless you want to face my punishment.”

Isabelle nods, fighting to keep her balance until at last, I release her. I turn her around and bend my head, covering her breast with my mouth and licking her nipple in a soft frenzy of sensation.

This time, her legs do give way. She sinks against me in a sigh of pleasure, gripping onto my hair and holding me to her, moaning loudly as I turn my attention to her other breast: licking and sucking the buds.

“God, that’s so intense!” she gasps. After the pain of pressure, the soft licking must be an exquisite relief.

I pull away. Now her face is glazed with desire: her pupils dilated, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths of arousal. “I’m going to fuck you,” I growl.

Isabelle swallows. “I want you,” she answers, parting her lips. Damn, a man could slide his cock between those pink pillows and die happy. But it’s not about me, not tonight.

“Where?” I demand.

She flushes. “Inside me.”

“Be specific,” I smirk, almost amused at her good girl manners.

“In my… pussy,” she whispers.

“Are you wet there?” I murmur, watching her. “Do you ache for me to slide my fingers inside you? Stroke that tender clit until you’re screaming?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Please, Master,” she pants. “Please, touch me there.”

“Turn around and move to the edge of the bed,” I instruct her as I roll up my shirt-sleeves. “Now part your legs and lean over until your hands are splayed on the edge of the bed. Good, like that.”

I smile in satisfaction. She makes a pretty little picture like this: her ass jutting back, her body bent over, her sweet pussy on display. I move closer and nudge her feet wider apart. Isabelle twists her head to look back at me, but I gently push it down so that her cheek is resting against the soft linen covers.

“Now, my darling. You are ready for me.”

I sink to my knees behind her, part those sweet ass-cheeks, and bury my tongue in her cleft.

Isabelle lets out a moan of surprise, but I don’t stop. I drag my tongue along her seam, finding that tight ring of muscle; swirling and lapping until she’s quivering against me.

“Oh God,” she gasps. “Cam! What--?”

I probe deeper, nudging the tip of my tongue just inside. Isabelle wriggles with another moan, but I grip her hips, keeping them locked in place, powerless to escape my wet exploration.

Her moans become cries of pleasure. My tongue flicks and swirls in a fast rhythm designed to drive her wild. She thrusts back eagerly against my face, all her earlier blushing innocence forgotten.

This is what pleasure does to us all; makes slaves of us. Makes us beg for things we never dreamed ourselves capable.

But I’m no slave here. I’m the one in control of her ecstasy. I can take her to the brink, or leave her gasping.

I have the power, and fuck, it feels so good.

My cock grows harder, blood pounding in my veins. I want her. Want these moans to echo with every hard plunge of my dick; want her body to clench around every thick inch of me.

I spread her cheeks wider and renew my licks, dipping one finger in the slick wetness of her cunt only long enough to coat it in her juices.

Then I sink it inside her, all the way to the knuckle.

Isabelle groans, clenching around me. “Oh my God!”

I pause, not wanting to push her too far tonight. I gently slide my finger out of her, but Isabelle lets out a whimper of protest.

“You like that, my sweet dirty girl?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “More, please. I need… I need it. I need to feel. Please, Master,” she begs, twisting again to gaze back at me. “Take me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want. Use me.”

Lust slams through me. She wants it all. She craves the exquisite pain of submission, and fuck, I’m going to give it to her.

“Don’t move,” I growl, striding over to the bedside table. I pull out a bottle of lube, and return to her arched body. I strip off my belt and pants, finally freeing my hard, hungry cock.

I stroke myself with the lube.

“Keep your hands on the bed,” I growl. I toss the bottle aside, and slide my hands over that perfect ass. “Grip the sheets if you need, but don’t you dare break position.”

Isabelle trembles. She lets out a moan of anticipation as I part her cheeks and take up position between her legs.

I lightly scratch my nails down the length of her back, making her arch and moan. Then I find her puckered hole and nudge my cock against it.

Isabelle tenses.

“You like it, don’t you? You want me to fill you up, possess every part of you.” I slowly push past her entrance, using my voice to lull her, distract her from the pain she craves and flinches from in the same breath. “You were made to serve me, my pet. Your body exists to pleasure me, to open wide, and feel the hard drive of my cock invading every inch of you. Do you feel that?” I growl, clenching my jaw to keep from moving too fast, but fuck, she’s so good, so goddamn tight.

I press deeper, inch by inch. Isabelle whimpers, clutching the covers in her hands. Tears are running down her cheeks, but she’s arching back, gasping for more.

“Please,” she whimpers, over and over, “Please, Master.”

It takes everything I have not to slam into her, possess her completely, but I keep control. I thrust gently, until finally, I’m buried to the hilt in the vice-like grip.

“You belong to me,” I growl, fisting her hair in one hand. “I’ve taken every part of you now. Your sweet mouth, your juicy cunt, and this tight ass.”

I land a light slap on the curvy flesh. Isabelle clenches around me, and fuck, I nearly lose my mind.

“Do you understand?” I demand. “I possess you. Always, Isabelle. Every fucking inch.”

I pull out a few inches, and am rewarded with a moan of protest. I can’t hear what she’s saying, it’s muffled in the covers, so I tug her hair, pulling her head back off the bed.

“More,” she breathes, “I need it. More. Harder. Please!”

I know fulfilling this need of hers will free her mind from the suffering she’s had to endure. But the desperate need in her voice destroys the last of my defenses. I’m doing this as much for her as for myself.

I move back into her, pushing the two of us forward onto the bed with the force of my thrust.

Isabelle screams. “Yes!”

I grip her hips and thrust again. Deeper. Harder.

“Oh my god! Yes!”

I slam into her again. Fuck, there’s nothing left in the world, nothing but heat and force and the clench of her ass gripping my cock, demanding every inch of me. The friction is insane, every thrust driving me past all control, past reason and logic, into a haze of pure animal lust.

Isabelle whimpers and writhes against me, thrusting back to meet my ravenous plunging. I hold her down, my erection harder than ever, every new stroke a fucking miracle. Fuck, it’s an avalanche building, a fucking tsunami so close to the edge. But I can’t let go, I can’t give in, not until—

I yank Isabelle’s body back against me, sliding a hand between her legs and finding her clit. It’s slick, wet with needy juices. I gently press down, teasing her as I slip a finger into her waiting pussy. I circle back up to her clit and put more pressure there as I thrust into her one last time and finally she comes, moaning as her body convulses and my own epic climax is ripped from my body.

I pull out, yelling my release as I spurt a torrent of hot cum over her naked back and ass. The pearly liquid marks her flesh like rope, like bonds.

Like a brand.

Mine.

THREE: ISABELLE

I fall asleep in Cam’s arms believing everything will be OK. But the real world is still out there, and there’s no hiding from it for long, not with my mugshot on the front page of the society section, and a murder charge hanging over my head.

First thing in the morning, I’m back at the police precinct. This time, I’m in an interview room instead of a holding cell, and I have Cam by my side, and lawyers too: our friend Justine, and a law school buddy of hers, Grant West, a specialist in criminal law.

“This is just an informational interview,” Justine explains to me with a reassuring smile. “We’re allowing the detectives to ask you some questions. And it gives you a chance to explain your side of the story.”

Grant nods. He’s wearing an expensive suit and has a designer briefcase resting against the metal table. I’m hoping all that money comes from being unbeatable in court. “Keep your answers short and simple. Don’t let them bait you. I’ll let you know if you should answer, or keep quiet.”

I’m nervous just listening to them. I look to Cam.

“You can do this,” he tells me firmly. “Just stay calm. Tell them the truth, and everything will be fine.”

I nod, fighting to keep my breathing steady. The last thing I want is another panic attack like last night. But Cam takes my hand and holds it tight, and just like that, my fear eases.

He’ll protect me. He won’t let them take me away again.

There’s a noise from the hallway, then the door to the interview room flies open. A heavy-set man in rumpled clothes strides in. He drops a file on the table and looks at us. “Well, ain’t this the soiree. You all need to be here?”

Justine gets up. “We’ll be right outside,” she tells me, nodding to Cam.

He rises from his seat too. Panic grips me, and I feel myself shaking as I let go of his hand.

“You’ve got this,” he tells me, his eyes filled with confidence. “I believe in you.”

I want to prove him right, so I take a deep breath and brace myself as he and Justine exit the room. Another man files in right after them, a younger detective with an attempt at a goatee and a nervous twitch.

The older guy sits. “I’m Detective Bates, and this is Officer Ruiz.”

Bates hits the button on an old tape recorder. “This interview is being recorded. Are we ready to begin?”

I nod, my stomach tied up in knots.

“Alright then,” Bates continues. “This is an informational interview with the suspect, Isabelle Ashcroft, charged with the murder of Richard Clayton.”

He says it all with a yawn, reaching to scratch at his two-day stubble. “Also present is the suspect’s lawyer…”

“Grant West,” Grant speaks.

“OK, Miss Ashcroft.” Bates glances at the file in front of him. “As stated, you stand accused of the murder of Richard Clayton. He died on August seventeenth—“

“A death ruled accidental by the coroner,” Grant interrupts. “Not to mention the Hillway Shores police department, the Alachua County PD, the DA…”

“Are you going to interrupt the whole way through?” Bates seems unimpressed. “Because this can take all day if you want it to. We ain’t got nothing else planned, do we?”

He turns to his partner. The kid shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

“Grant.” I give him a look. “It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“Smart girl.” Bates nods. He flips the page. “Now, the night of the fire. You were how old?”

“Thirteen.” My voice trembles.

“Do you remember much of what happened?”

My gaze flicks to Grant and he nods at me. “Go ahead, Isabelle.”

The memories are hazy at first. I’ve tried so hard to forget everything that happened that night, it’s like digging up fossils from the past.

Sins that should be left buried.

I take a deep breath. “I was at the Clayton’s house by myself. I was home sick from school, the other kids were all gone. Mrs. Clayton left for work, but Richard been fired from his delivery job a couple of months before. So he was always around the house.”

I pause, already slipping back into the past. I’ve been blocking it out for so long, now it all comes rushing back.

“He was a drinker,” I say quietly. “It got worse after he lost his job. He couldn’t get work because of the DUIs on his record. He was always angry, or complaining. Or…” I stop.

Bates and Ruiz wait, watching me. I hate their eyes on me, so I stare at a scratch on the table, and force myself to continue.

“There were four of us kids,” I say. “Two boys, they were older. Clayton would push them around sometimes. If they stepped out of line, he’d give them a beating with his belt. Mrs. Clayton looked the other way. She said, we should learn to behave.”

I swallow. My throat’s dry, but there’s no water, so I keep talking. “I shared a room with the other girl, Britney. Well, it wasn’t much of a room, it was the laundry room out back, they shoved a couple of beds in there. Mr. Clayton was always walking in, pretending like he needed clothes from the hamper, or to run a load.” I shake my head, my skin prickling just at the memory. “Britney was younger than me, but she looked older, I guess. She got a growth spurt, started filling out, you know. And Mr. Clayton…he noticed. He started hanging around more.”

I remember Britney; she was just a kid. She’d gone into the system only recently, after her mom died, since her dad was stationed overseas and there wasn’t any other family to take her. The Claytons were her first family—she didn’t know how the system worked. I was the one who taught her how to hide snacks under the mattress so the boys couldn’t steal them, and shove a chair under the bathroom door handle so Mr. Clayton couldn’t ‘accidentally’ walk in when she was in the shower.

“Miss Ashcroft?”

I blink. The detectives are waiting.

“Right. Where was I?”

“The day of the fire. You were home sick.”

I nod. “Right. I was in the living room, on the couch, reading. Mr. Clayton came in. It was only the afternoon, but he was already drunk. He stumbled over a table, started yelling and calling me names. I tried to leave, but he followed me back into the bedroom.”

I gulp. “He was saying all kinds of things. How I should be grateful he’d taken me in. How I could be sent somewhere much worse, if I didn’t behave myself. He said I should be nice to him. That I should show him how much I appreciated him.”

My throat tightens. The walls close in on me again, but I fight to stay strong. “He tried to grab me,” I continue, feeling tears in the corner of my eyes. “He threw me on the bed. His hands… his hands were all over me, he was grabbing, trying to… to force himself.” I haven’t talked about this with anyone but Cam, and never in this much detail. I don’t want to remember my terror, my determination to protect myself. “I fought him off, I ran, trying to get away. But he chased me. He tripped again, on a toy or something. He fell, and hit his head. I didn’t stay.” I whisper, “I ran, I went straight to school. I never said anything. I didn’t know about the fire until I got home again that night and saw the fire trucks.”

I stop. Grant gives me a nod. I’m doing OK.

“How did the fire start?” Bates asks.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there. I mean, he was smoking…” I stop. “I remember the ashtray, on the table. It was always full. Maybe I knocked it—”

“That’s enough for now,” Grant cuts me off. “My client has stated she wasn’t present when the fire started.”

“She said she wasn’t sure,” Bates corrects him. “But she also stated she left Mr. Clayton suffering from a potentially life-threatening head-injury.”

“After fleeing a sexual assault,” Grant fires back.

Bates’s eyes narrow. “Yes. The assault. That would make a person angry, angry enough to fight back. Maybe even to kill. Hurting Mr. Clayton would make you feel better, wouldn’t it? You’d want to see him burn after what he tried to do to you. You’d want revenge.”

I can’t even speak. My mind’s racing, desperately trying to sort out all of the memories of that day. Bates is making me doubt myself. Did I leave him to die intentionally? Am I capable of doing something so cold, so cruel?

“So I’m asking you again, Miss Ashcroft. This is your last chance to save yourself. To confess before your case goes to trial. Tell me the truth. Did you deliberately set fire to the house that night to injure your foster father?” Bates leans across the table, fixing me with an accusing stare.

“No!” I protest. “I didn’t!”

“We have a witness who says otherwise.” Bates leans back. “This witness says you did set that fire deliberately in an attempt to injure or even kill your guardian.”

“That’s not true. There was nobody else there!” I yell.

Or was there? I don’t even trust my own memory anymore. Everything’s a whirl of confusion, Clayton’s face blurring in my mind.

I can’t hold back the tears anymore. I break down.

“That’s enough.” Grant stands. “This interview is over.” He takes my arm and helps me up, ushering me out of the room. The door slams shut behind us, but it sounds to me like a prison cell door closing for good.

They have a witness. That means no matter what I say, I could be spending the rest of my life in jail.

FOUR: CAM

“They have a witness?” My voice rises in anger. I dropped off Isabelle with Keely after her interview at the police precinct. Now, I’m meeting in my office at Ashcroft Industries with the lawyer, Grant, and my private investigator, Jake. We need to figure this situation out, and I want to have a plan in place before I tell Isabelle.

“Dammit, Grant, why didn’t we know about this? What the hell am I paying you for?”

He gives me a look. “It’s been barely twenty-four hours since she was arrested. Now we know what’s making them reopen the case. I count that as a win.”

“It won’t be a win until all charges against Isabelle are dropped, and she’s free to live her life in peace without the fear of being locked up in jail,” I retort angrily.

I’m pacing my office like a caged animal, every muscle in my body tense as hell.

I’m the one who’s responsible for her wellbeing. I let her down, and now I can’t rest until she’s safe again.

“Let’s just take a breath,” Jake speaks up. He’s slouched in his seat, looking like he just got in from a hard night’s partying – and way too relaxed for this situation.

“Do you know what’s at stake here?” I demand, turning on him. “Murder is a serious charge. She could spend her life behind bars.”

“She was a minor,” Grant points out. “Even if she’s tried as an adult – which she won’t be – they’d be crazy to go for first degree murder. At most, involuntary manslaughter,” he shrugs. “That’s what, seven years? We could even get them down with a plea bargain. A couple of years, maybe. She could walk in twelve months on good behavior.”

I stare at him in furious disbelief. Twelve months of Isabelle’s life, stolen just like that? Just one night in holding left her a total wreck. My girl is strong, but prison would destroy her. There’s no way I’m letting anyone put her away.

I promised I would protect her.

“We’re not taking a plea,” I say through gritted teeth.

Grant clears his throat. “Have you talked to her about that?” he asks.

“I don’t need to.”

Grant pauses, like he’s weighing something.

“Spit it out,” I demand, impatient.

“Look, she’s a sweet girl, sure. But it sounds like it was a pretty messed up situation.” Grant shrugs. “Do you really know what she’s capable of? I hate to say it, but maybe the cops have it right. Maybe she started that fire, didn’t think it through until it was too late—”

He’s cut off by my hand gripping tight around his neck. I slam him back against the wall, choking him hard.

“Isabelle didn’t do this!” I growl, furious.

“Easy there,” Jake says as he pulls me back. I don’t let go. I can’t. I’m in a red haze, all my anger focused on Grant, who’s turning red and struggling under my grip.

“Cam!”

Jake wrenches me away. Grant doubles over, wheezing.

“Seriously, you need to chill the fuck out.” Jake glares at me. “We’re on your side here. We’re not the enemy. And this is nothing compared to the questions Isabelle is going to face in court. What are you going to do then?” he adds. “Put the prosecutor in a head-lock?”

Reality comes rushing in. I can’t believe I lost control. This situation has me so on edge, I’m barely acting like myself.

“Sorry,” I tell Grant gruffly. “I know this isn’t your fault. I’m under a lot of pressure here. And this case is personal.” I normally wouldn’t tell Grant something like that, but he needs to know this isn’t just some regular job, this is my life.

“I can see that.” He straightens up, adjusting his shirt. “You’re lucky you’re paying me so much,” he mutters.

“Consider it doubled,” I say, as a peace offering.

Grant looks mollified. “I’ll head back to the police precinct, see if I can’t catch one of the detectives on a break. Nose around for information about this witness. That Bates guy looked like he knew his shit, but maybe the kid he had with him will crack.”

“Good.” I nod. At least it’s a plan. “Call me later with any updates.”

Grant exits, leaving Jake and I alone.

He strolls over to my wet bar in the corner and pours himself a shot of whiskey. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose it like that,” he notes, giving me a knowing look. “This girl means a lot to you, huh?”

“She means everything,” I say shortly. “Which is why there’s no way she’s spending another night in prison. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Jake nods. “Understood.”

I take another couple of breaths, still trying to calm down. “I can’t shake the feeling that Brent is behind this somehow. He wants revenge on her for leaving him. He was the one who brought the police last night.”

“You think he could have dug up this witness, too?” Jake flips open his notebook.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But the timing, it’s all off. What witness waits almost ten years before coming forward? We need to find out who they are. Grant is working the police angle, so you keep digging into Brent,” I instruct him. “Find out what he’s been doing these past weeks, where he’s been. If we’re lucky, he’ll lead us straight to the information we need.”

“Got it.” Jake stands. “I’ll be in touch. And Cam?” he pauses by the door. “You need to keep it together. Outbursts like that, they won’t help Isabelle. She’s depending on you.”

He closes the door behind him with a sharp click.

She’s depending on you.

Does he think I don’t know that? I’ve never felt so powerless as watching her get taken away in handcuffs. Never felt like such a failure as when she fell, shaking in my arms after her night in jail.

I’m her Master. She’s mine to protect. But even I have to admit it goes far deeper than that. I’ve never given this much to anyone, never wanted to. And now, the thought of not seeing her every day… It’s unthinkable.

Our relationship is more than what happens in the bedroom. It’s taken over everything, every part of my life. My heart. She means more to me than I ever imagined, and now there’s nothing I won’t do to save her.

No line I won’t cross.

I just pray it doesn’t come to that.

FIVE: ISABELLE

Keely has lunch with me, and stays long enough for me to pull myself together after the terrible police interview. But she can’t stick around all day, she has a life and a job to get back to.

“I’m so sorry I can’t push these meetings any later,” she says, as I walk her to the door.

“I’m fine!” I say, trying to smile. “I don’t need babysitting, I’m OK, really.”

Keely looks reluctant to go.

“I mean it,” I tell her. “I’m so tired, I think I’ll just take a nap. Cam will be home soon, and the doorman’s right downstairs. I’m perfectly safe on my own.”

“OK,” she agrees, then gives me a hug. “But call if you need anything. To talk, or hang out. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m here to listen if you need.”

“Thanks.” My words catch in my throat. Keely is being so sweet and supportive, but the truth is, I’m not ready to talk about it just yet. “I’ll let you know.”

She leaves, and then I’m alone in the vast apartment. Olivia has been texting me to check in and give reassurances, but even her kindness adds to my anxiety, so I turn off my phone and wander the hallways, feeling out of sorts. It was Cam’s idea for me to stay at home and rest today. I know he’s worried I’ll have another panic attack or breakdown like last time, but I don’t feel the same blind panic anymore. Instead, I’m restless, trying not to think about what happened in the interview – and worse, the time with Clayton, all those years ago.

I need a distraction, something to take my mind off the terrible charges hanging over me.

Cam could distract me, no problem…

I shiver, remembering the scene last night. I was barely keeping it together, but he knew exactly what to do to bring me back to myself. Just one word from him in that sexy, dominant voice, and all my anxiety seemed to melt away.

And what happened after…

I feel my body get hot just remembering. He knew just what I needed: the pain that focuses my desire, that makes the pleasure so intense. I was completely consumed by the incredible things he did to my body, it was all I could do to beg for more.

I gave myself up to him, went further than we ever did before. But it didn’t feel dirty or wrong, it was amazing, the intimacy of trusting him to explore my most private places, to bring me to the edge of ecstasy and control my wrenching release. I’ve never felt so alive, so fulfilled, or so loved.

It made all my worries disappear – but only for a while. Now, I’m reminded the reality of my situation. Besides Olivia’s caring texts, my phone is overflowing with faux-concerned voicemails from journalists and old supposed-friends, all wanting the inside scoop on the hottest gossip in the city. I haven’t even looked online, I can’t bring myself to see what people are saying about me.

But every minute I’m cooped up here alone, I’m tempted. I wander into Cam’s office and move towards the computer. Just one quick peek—

No!

I force myself out of the office and down the hall. I grab my purse, and put on a big pair of shades to hide my face. I can’t stay trapped here forever, I need to feel human again, so I exit the apartment (grateful that Cam’s request for me to stay home wasn’t an order) and speed-dial the one person who can make me feel more like myself again.

“Hi, Serge? Do you have room for a cut at three?”

* * *

I figure that some time at the salon is just what I need, and for a blissful half-hour, it is. Serge gives me an amazing scalp massage, and I relax while he blows out my hair. When he gives me a pointed look in the mirror and asks how I’ve been, I tell him I’d much rather hear about his week, and like the angel he is, he gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and gleefully recounts his nightmarish blind date from last night.

The hum of dryers and gleaming polished mirrors lull me into forgetting everything; I stay hidden in a booth in the back of the salon and flip through gossip magazines, pretending just for a moment that I won’t be on the front page of the next issue.

“We can fit you in for a mani-pedi, if you like,” he says, when my hair is a glossy mane.

“Perfect.”

I follow him to a chair near the front of the salon and take a seat. I keep reading my magazines, but slowly, I realize there’s a strange hush around me.

I look around. The rich, perfect clients are all shooting looks my way, their heads bent together to whisper.

“…last night, they dragged her off in handcuffs…”

“…scandal. But you know, she was adopted from a bad family.”

“Once trailer trash, always trailer trash.”

“…I heard she killed him in cold blood…”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. I want to bolt right out of here, but my feet are plunged in warm water, and besides, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.

Act like you don’t hear them, I order myself. Fake that you don’t care.

I turn a page, pretending to read my magazine, but the whispers only grow louder. I shift in my seat, feeling sick to my stomach. I wish I could make myself invisible, and hide from their accusing stares.

Is this what it’s going to be like now? People gossiping wherever I go. Thinking that they know me, know my story. Even if we fight the charge in court, the rumors will follow me forever. I don’t know if I can bear it.

“Isabelle? Oh my lord, is that you?”

I look up to see Nicole and Lulu at the front of the salon. They’re dressed in their usual uniforms of designer jeans and chunky jewelry, with silk shirts and glossy hair. Their heels tap loudly as they come closer.

“We heard what happened,” Nicole breathes, wide-eyed with fake concern. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine.” I flip my magazine closed nonchalantly and force myself to give a bright smile. “Just a little misunderstanding. Totally overblown.”

“So you weren’t charged with murder?” Lulu announces loudly.

Everyone goes silent, watching for my reaction.

“It’s a mistake,” I say breezily, invoking my well-practiced mask of confidence. “I mean, think about it. It’s not true.”

Their eyes burn into me, and out of the corner of my eye I can see people on their phones, too. Everyone is talking about me. Everyone is saying that I’m trash, a murderer, a joke. And just like that, I feel my defenses stuttering.

“I should go,” I say, quickly pulling my feet out of the bowl and jamming them back into my flats. “Nice seeing you two.” I get up to leave, but they block my path.

Nicole glares. “I can’t believe you’d show your face in public. I’d be too ashamed.”

I don’t reply. I’m trying too hard to will away the sting behind my eyes.

“We’ve taken your name off the committee for the benefit next month,” Lulu adds. “I’m sure you understand, we can’t be associated with any of this scandal.”

“And don’t even think about coming to the meetings, either,” Nicole sneers. “We talked about it, and we’ve decided you’re no longer… suitable for our group.”

“We did you a favor including you in the first place,” Lulu smirks. “We thought maybe someone from your background would benefit from our guidance, but we were wrong.”

“Guess it’s just a case of nature over nurture,” Nicole snorts. “What was your mother, anyway? Didn’t she go to jail, too?”

I grit my teeth as their cruel words cut through me. I wish I could come up with some smart retort, but I know if I open my mouth, all I’ll do is cry.

The world I worked so hard to build for myself has come crashing down all around me as I stand here, while people point and laugh and whisper among themselves.

I want to stay and fight back, but instead I grab my things and push blindly past Nicole, tears welling in the corners of my eyes.

“Miss! Miss!” the manicurist calls after me, but I can’t stop. Then my foot catches on something, and I go tumbling to the floor.

Oww.

My knee slams hard against the polished tiles, but worse than that is the flush of humiliation as I sprawl on the ground, the contents of my purse strewn across the floor.

Lulu and Nicole burst out laughing.

I try to get up, my knee throbbing.

“I’ve got you.” A hand comes out to help me stand. I look up, blinking through my tears. It’s Olivia.

“Come on,” she says, shooting Nicole and Lulu a fierce look as she gathers my things back into my bag. “This place is so over. Their clientele is pretty much worthless.”

Olivia steers me to the exit.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “But you don’t have to do this. They might—”

“Fuck them,” Olivia declares, out loud. “Under-eating, over-exposed pack of bitches.”

I can’t help but smile through my tears. She’s so awesome, escorting me out even though it’s social suicide. Olivia takes me onto the sidewalk and hails us a cab.

“Let’s get you home,” she says, nudging me inside and climbing in after me. She gives the driver Cam’s address, then passes me a tissue to clean my face up as we drive away through the Fifth Avenue traffic.

“I can’t believe I ever thought they were my friends,” I say.

“Shallow fools,” Olivia comforts me. “You don’t need them.”

“I know, but still…” I shudder to remember the whispers. I’ve worked so hard to make my image perfect. Now they all know the ugly truth. “You heard what they were saying.”

“And next week they’ll be gossiping about someone else. Just you wait,” Olivia reassures me. “Someone will get divorced, or a bad facelift, and you’ll be old news. But until then, maybe you should keep a low profile. Let the news die down.”

I don’t believe the news will ever die down, but I nod anyway. “I just wanted to go out and do something normal,” I explain. “Try to forget what’s really happening. That’s why I blew off all your texts today. I’m so sorry, Olivia.”

Olivia squeezes my hand. “Don’t apologize. Everything will be OK. And you don’t need those bitches anyway,” she adds. “You know they aren’t capable of having a real human emotion, even if their lives depended on it. Not that Lulu’s Botox would let her show it, even if she could.”

I manage another smile. “Thanks again for rescuing me,” I tell her. “I owe you.”

“How about cupcakes tomorrow?” she suggests. “You could come to my place. We’ll order in.”

“Maybe, I’ll see how I feel and give you a call. But thanks.”

Her invitation means the world to me. Even though women like Nicole and Lulu have shown their friendship to be shallow and meaningless, Olivia is proving that I do still have real friends left.

The cab pulls up at Cam’s apartment. I give her a quick hug and then climb out, hurrying inside in case any journalists or photographers are lurking around.

The apartment is silent. I drop my purse by the door and look around. I’m right back where I started this morning, with thoughts of the past whirling through my head, impossible to keep at bay. I feel so powerless. Cam has his lawyers and investigator doing everything they can, but there’s nothing for me to do but wait.

Wait, and think about everything I’ve done wrong.

I climb the stairs. Cam’s private playroom is elevated above the main penthouse, the glass walls giving me a view of the city at dusk. It’s so removed from everything, I can tell why he calls it his sanctuary. There’s something so calming about the space, rich with meaning, even aside from the toys and implements that are racked neatly on the walls. In here, I can breathe.

I sit on the floor with my back against his chair, watching the city. I used to dream about New York when I was a kid. To someone from Tallahassee, it seemed like the most glamorous place in the world. I would read all the glossy fashion magazines I could get my hands on– no matter they were out of date, dog-eared copies I paged through in the library or in waiting rooms – and picture myself here. Living a fabulous life, with my own swanky apartment and a closet full of amazing clothes; eating in all the trendiest restaurants and partying all night in the hottest clubs with all the friends I’d make.

My dreams came true. Most of them, anyway. I came here, I’ve lived that life. But being on the brink of losing everything has made me realize just how empty that lifestyle was. I spent so much time and energy trying to fit in with Nicole and Lulu and society bitches like them. I faked smiles, and pretended I cared about silly things, and all for what?

To be on the inside? To pass for something other than what I am?

I feel a sadness welling in my chest. After everything we’ve been through, they only see me as some worthless junkie’s kid.

A killer.

“Isabelle?”

I look up. Cam is in the doorway. He moves closer, concern on his handsome face. “Olivia called me, are you OK?”

I exhale. “I didn’t have a breakdown, if that’s what you’re worried about. Well, only a little one,” I add, remembering how I sprawled all over the floor in front of everyone. “Now I have to find another hairstylist. Except, I guess I won’t need one in jail.” I try to lighten the mood, but the joke falls flat.

Cam holds out his hands. I take them. He pulls me to my feet. “Isabelle…” he cradles my cheek in his hand. “It won’t come to it, I promise you.”

“Maybe it should.” I give a defeated shrug. “Maybe they’re right. It’s in my blood, isn’t it?”

“Is that what those women said to you?” Cam looks like he’s about to punch the wall.

“It’s what everyone’s saying. Online, on the news. And they’re right.” I feel a knot forming in my chest, but I bite back my tears. I’m done crying today. “I grew up in foster care, and no one gave a shit. My mom’s a junkie jail-bird. It was stupid of me to think I could ever outrun the past.”

“You’re nothing like what they say,” Cam insists. “You’re more than that.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter where you come from, Isabelle, it matters who you are.”

Cam leads me to the chair and pulls me down on his lap so I’m cradled against his body. I snuggle into his solid, muscular frame. His arms hold me gently, stroking my hair with one hand. “You don’t see what I see when I look at you,” he tells me, his voice so warm and reassuring. “I see your strength. Your courage. Your beauty. Not the mask you put on to face the world,” he adds, turning my face to look him in the eyes. “But the real you.”

I feel a warmth inside. “I don’t feel strong,” I whisper. “I feel like I’m falling apart, always needing to be rescued by you, or Olivia, or someone.”

“Are you kidding me?” he grins. “You’re stronger than you realize. You’re the one who convinced me to take you on as my sub. You walked right into the club and got on your knees. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I was scared as hell,” I admit, remembering that night. “I thought you were going to tell me to get out. That you wouldn’t want me.”

He holds me tighter, and I feel his lips against my ear. I suppress a shiver.

“I always wanted you,” Cam vows. His hand slides down my neck, tracing over my skin.

I melt against him.

“I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” he says, kissing my ear, my jaw, and down my throat. His hand glides around, lightly stroking my breast.

I gasp.

“You transfix me, Isabelle. Everything about you. I’ve never come so close to losing control as when I’m with you.”

His fingertips brush my nipples, achingly light. I wriggle against his lap, feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing into my ass. Heat rushes to my core, I want him so much.

In one swift movement, Cam lifts me by the waist and pulls me around, so I’m straddling him. He runs his hands down the front of my body, making me moan from his touch even through my dress. His eyes flash darkly.

“You’re perfect,” he growls, his voice thick now with desire. “Every part of you.”

He pushes up my skirt, reaching to brush between my spread thighs. I moan again, feeling the light pressure against my clit. “Cam,” I breathe, thrusting into his hand. “I need you.”

“Not until you say it,” Cam commands. “Tell me you’re perfect.”

I stop cold and shake my head. “I can’t.”

“You can.” Cam strokes me again, pushing my panties aside and burying one finger into my pussy. “You will.”

I clench around him. God, he feels so good.

“Say it. That’s an order.” His eyes take on that steely glint, the one that makes my pussy ache with desire.

“I… I’m perfect,” I whisper, flushing. The words feel so foreign on my lips. I’ve spent my life trying to change myself: to be prettier, thinner, more bubbly, more blonde. Yet here I sit, flawed and exposed, and still Cam can’t take his eyes—or his hands—off me. Could he really think I’m perfect just the way I am?

Cam unfastens his belt, pushing his pants lower. His cock springs free, hard and ready. He takes my hips, guiding me into position above him. I feel him pressing hard against the entrance of my pussy. I want him inside, filling me up, obliterating any bad thoughts.

“Say it again” he demands, bringing me down on his dick in one thick thrust.

I moan with the feel of him, sliding deep inside, so big. He’s waiting now, and I know I have to follow his orders if I want more of him. And I do. “I’m perfect,” I cry, as Cam lifts me up, then pulls me down again, spearing me with every last inch. “Yes!” I gasp, as he finds that sweet spot, high inside me. “Oh God, yes.”

Cam rocks into me hard. “Ride me,” he demands, fisting my hair in his hand. He fixes his gaze on me, just inches away. “Take what you need.”

I find the rhythm, lifting myself and slamming back down, rocking so that my clit presses against him with every stroke. God, it’s so good. He fits me, stretches me, sending pleasure ricocheting through my body. “Master,” I gasp, already so close to the edge.

“I’m here,” he growls. “Your Master is right here.”

His lips crash down on mine, possessing me in a fierce kiss as his cock impales me. His tongue surges deep, his cock strokes harder. I feel his fingers playing with my ass, rubbing against me as he pulls me closer to him. He’s everywhere, consuming me, every part of me. I lose myself in the feel of him, falling into the sensation until he thrusts again and I come.

He pulls back, his gaze fixed on me as I see him come undone with me. I feel him shudder inside me, see the look in his eyes as he goes over the edge. And at that moment, it finally feels true.

To him, I’m perfect.

SIX: CAM

I carry Isabelle to bed. She falls asleep almost immediately, but rest doesn’t come so easily for me.

Holding her in my arms like this just reminds me again how right this feels. This woman is the missing piece in the puzzle that my life has been. I found her, and now I’m whole. Complete. What I told her tonight is true. I’ve never felt anything like this before with any woman.

She is everything to me.

These past few weeks have only proven how right we are together. All these years with my subs, the other women I’ve dated, I was so careful to protect myself. Barricade my emotions away behind this wall of self-protection and distance. But I don’t have any defenses against Isabelle. She shatters every one of my limits, pushes me past the edge of my self-control.

I love her.

The knowledge is almost more than I can stand, because so much is at stake now. If I can’t protect her—

But I can’t think about that now.

I look at her sleeping, and brush some of her hair aside. She smiles in her sleep, and I wonder if she’s thinking of me.

I always rejected the idea of love, in a way. I thought it would make me weak. Less of a man. Less of a Dom. But loving Isabelle makes me feel stronger than ever. She’s showing me what it means to be truly responsible for a woman, to hold the power over her pleasure and pain in my hands: not just her body, but her heart, too.

It’s humbling how much she trusts me.

This love is sacred. Something precious to be cherished and protected. At all costs.

I pull her body closer. Cradled in my arms with her silky hair on my shoulder and my hand on the curve of her hip, I stay awake, guarding her from nightmares as she dreams.

SEVEN: ISABELLE

I wake up knowing one thing for sure: I need to figure out who this mystery witness is, and that means getting the information from Brent. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but every instinct says that he’s behind this somehow.

He can’t have me, so now he’s out to destroy me.

Down the hall, Cam is fixing a perfect cappuccino. He’s dressed for work, looking panty-meltingly gorgeous in a suit and tie, and it strikes me again how lucky I am to have him in my life.

He looks up and smiles at me, but there’s still worry in his eyes. “I can blow off my meetings, if you want,” he says. “Stay here with you for the day.”

As much as I love the idea of spending the day in bed with Cam, I know he has commitments he shouldn’t be breaking, not on my account. And he’s already helped me so much.

I shake my head. “I’m OK. At least I know to keep a low profile now. If I steer clear of the paparazzi and society bitches, I’ll be fine. Promise. I just wish there was something I could do,” I add, moving to sit at the kitchen counter. I reach for a fresh bagel on the platter, and take a frustrated bite.

Cam drops a kiss on my cheek. “I know it’s hard to wait around like this, but your court date hasn’t been set yet. Jake is hunting down information about the case, and our lawyer is doing everything he can on the legal side, too. You’re in safe hands, I promise.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” I ask. “Maybe if I tried to talk to Brent—”

“No.” Cam cuts me off. His face turns dark. “You can’t go near him, do you hear me, Isabelle? He’s dangerous and angry, you don’t know what he’ll do. Better if he thinks he’s won for now and lets his guard down, so my people can figure out what he’s up to.”

I reluctantly nod.

“Good girl,” Cam murmurs, kissing me again. “I’ll be home early tonight. I’ll make you dinner,” he adds, trailing his hand down my body. He kisses me slowly on my lips, before taking his briefcase and leaving.

The door closes behind him. I’m all alone.

My mind races. Cam told me not to speak to Brent. A direct order. But nobody knows Brent like me: he’s dangerous, sure, but he’s also arrogant and stupid sometimes. We’ve been stuck two steps behind the police ever since my arrest, but I know that if I push him right, Brent couldn’t help but spill the beans just to lord it over me. His quest for revenge could destroy my whole life. But I won’t let him.

I can’t wait for everyone to fix this mess for me. I need to do it for myself.

I feel a stab of guilt. Disobeying an order from Cam goes against everything in our relationship. But how can I sit around when they’re going to so much trouble for me?

If I can solve this, if I can get the information we need, then this will all go away. Cam won’t have to worry about me like this. I won’t have to hide out, away from the press and all my former friends. He won’t have to spend all this time and money on investigators and legal fees.

And I’ll be able to put the past behind me for good.

Going to Brent now is a risk, but I need to take it – for all our sakes.

I take a deep breath and find my cell phone. I speed-dial the front desk at my old apartment building – the apartment where Brent is still living, rent-free.

“Hello, this is the Dunsmore.”

“Andre, is that you?” I ask, recognizing the voice of my favorite doorman. “It’s Isabelle Ashcroft.”

He’s silent a moment, and I hold my breath, hoping he’s still an ally.

“Miss Ashcroft, are you alright? We’ve had all sorts of people waiting around for you here.” There’s nothing in his voice but concern, and I exhale with relief.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, giving thanks that nobody knows I’m staying with Cam. I guess all the press and attention has been on my old building. “Listen, I need a favor. Is Brent home today?”

“Not right now,” Andre answers. My heart sinks. “But I believe he’ll be back this afternoon.”

Good. I wanted to speak with him, but since he’s out of the apartment, a new idea strikes me. “Can you please have removal men and a locksmith meet me at the apartment? I need to get some things out of the property.”

“Of course,” Andre agrees quickly. “I’ll have them come right away.”

I hang up, feeling more determined. First, I need to get Brent’s things out, and then we’ll have the conversation that’s been a long time coming.

Cam will understand, I tell myself. He has to. This is my life Brent is screwing with, and I can’t let him do it another day.

* * *

I use a back entrance to sneak into the Dunsmore building, then spend the morning working with the movers to box up all of Brent’s things in my old apartment. It’s strange being back here, the place I called home all year, but still never felt like I belonged.

The décor, the style, it’s all showy and ultra-feminine, lots of gold and chandeliers and fancy touches I used to try and mark the space as my own, even with Brent using it as his personal crash-pad. His stuff is everywhere: expensive clothes and gadgets discarded like they mean nothing at all.

Not for the first time, I wonder how he can be so careless. We both came from poor foster homes, we both grew up with nothing, but instead of treasuring all the privilege the Ashcrofts gave us, Brent just acts like he’s entitled to whatever he wants.

I remember, the first Christmas we both were with the family, I couldn’t believe all the gifts waiting under the tree, it was like something out of a dream for me. Charles Ashcroft and his wife had gone all out: toys, dolls, games. I unwrapped everything so carefully, wanting to savor every moment, but Brent tore through all his gifts in minutes – and then threw a tantrum because they hadn’t gotten him an expensive model car he wanted.

Looking around the room, it’s clear nothing’s changed.

“That’s the last of it,” Andre says when Brent’s things are finally boxed up in the hall. “The locks are changed, too. Here’s the new keys.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, taking the keys. “You’ve been wonderful, like always.” I see Andre’s smile reach all the way to his eyes, and he adjusts his cap to hide it.

“Did you want the boxes delivered anywhere, Miss Ashcroft?”

“Nope. My brother will be along to pick them up,” I say. I already texted him, telling him we need to talk.

Sure enough, barely five minutes after Andre leaves, I hear the elevator arrive with a ding! from down the hall.

I try to steel myself. The thought of seeing Brent makes me feel sick inside, reminding me of all the years I was under his control. His manipulation, his tempers. I worshipped him, but only because I was so desperate and needy for love.

No more.

I hear his footsteps approach the apartment. They stop outside the door, then comes the sound of his key in the lock. “Fuck,” I hear Brent’s muffled curse.

Be strong, I remind myself. You just need clues about the witness.

I get up and go open the door. Brent is scowling, already red with anger. “What the fuck?” he demands, pushing past me inside. “Why won’t my key work? And what the hell is all my stuff doing in the hall?”

“You’re moving out,” I say calmly.

Brent looks around, the truth dawning. “Are you forgetting something?” He turns back to me with a cruel sneer. “I know your little secret.”

“And now so does the whole world,” I reply, folding my arms. “That means you don’t have any leverage over me anymore.”

Brent’s face falls, and I have to try not to laugh. “Didn’t think it through, did you? Now that I’m officially charged with murder, you can’t blackmail me anymore. That means no apartment, no car payments, and no credit cards. That’s right,” I add, “I already called them and cut you off.”

I didn’t think I could find a silver lining to this terrible nightmare, but the look on Brent’s face as he realizes how screwed he is makes me feel better, just for a moment.

“You bitch,” he growls. “You won’t be smiling when you’re rotting in jail.”

“If they get a conviction,” I try my best to bluff. “But the lawyers say there’s no way that’s going to happen. They expect to get the charges dropped any day now.”

“You’re dreaming,” Brent smiles, confident again. “You’re going to prison. They don’t just let you walk for murder.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I protest, my voice rising with anger. “I told you all those years ago, it was an accident. I didn’t know about the fire.”

“That’s not what the witness says,” Brent smirks again, and there’s something so smug about his voice that my suspicions are confirmed. He knows something.

“What do you know about it?” I ask.

Brent snorts. “Enough to know you’re not getting off so easy. You’ll be in jail soon enough. Enjoy those group showers.”

I swallow back my rage. Brent is mean as hell, but he’s also arrogant. Maybe I can play to that.

“What do you want from me?” I drop my voice to a whisper, begging him. “Please, Brent, I don’t understand. Do you want more money? Because this isn’t the way to get it. If I’m in prison, all my assets will be frozen or go back to the family trust!”

“Fuck money.” Brent’s face splits in a furious scowl. “You want to know what this is about? This is about you! Leaving me for that Scottish bastard. Thinking you’re so much better than me.” Brent paces closer, making my heart skip. “You’re just a common whore, the way you spread your legs for me all these years, and now you’re doing the same for him. You think I don’t know what you’re doing with him? I’ve heard all about how Cameron McCullough likes it, you dirty bitch.”

I’m speechless, but even as I try to recover, I hate knowing that Brent saw the shock and pain on my face.

He smiles. “I know what you’re doing with him, all that kinky shit, so now it’s my turn to make you hurt. I’m going to destroy you, until you’ve got nothing left in the world. I want you on your knees, begging me for mercy the way you beg him. Because he won’t stand by you once you’re a convicted killer. You’ll be all alone in the world, the way you deserve.”

I stare at him in disbelief. I can’t believe he has so much hatred boiling inside him. Or that I would have done anything for him once.

“I can’t believe I ever loved you,” I tell him, disgusted. “That I never saw you for who you really are.”

He smirks again. “You were easy to manipulate. Poor little Isabelle, so desperate for my approval. It was fun, making you run around after me. And then when you turned legal, well, that was fun, too. My own personal plaything,” he crows.

I feel sick. “You’re disgusting. I was just a kid, I trusted you.”

“And I developed that trust until there was nothing you wouldn’t do.” Brent laughs cruelly.

He’s enjoying this. He loves to see me suffer. That’s when I realize, I can use his ego against him.

“Please,” I whisper, trying to look pathetic. “I don’t understand. The fire was an accident. How could they have a witness?”

“God, you’re so fucking naïve,” Brent leers at me. “People will say anything for the right price. Ten Gs and that girl would say anything I want.”

“Which girl?” I demand.

Brent’s face changes. He realizes he’s said too much. “You’re too late,” he snaps. “You’re not getting out of this one. And I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer. You’ll wish you hadn’t crossed me by the time I’m through.”

“Never.” My voice comes out clearly. I find the strength to stand tall and stare him down. “I don’t care what you do to me, I’ll never regret breaking free from your toxic influence. I was just a kid when you got your claws into me, I didn’t know any better, but I do now. You’re worthless, Brent. You’ve had all the opportunities in the world and you’ve squandered all of them. Plotting against Keely, trying to steal the company,” I tick his crimes off on my fingers, “And now this, your vendetta against me. I won’t take it anymore. If you think I’ll come begging to you, you’re wrong,” I vow fiercely. “I have a better life now. I have friends, and people who love me, and a partner who knows what it is to be a real man.”

I glare at him, feeling years of pent-up anger and betrayal come flooding to the surface. “What I have with Cam is real. He doesn’t have to manipulate or blackmail me to make me love him. He loves me for my strengths, he doesn’t exploit my weakness. You’ll never know what it’s like to be loved the way I love him, because you don’t deserve it. You may have taken my adolescence from me, but you’re not taking another moment of my life. We’re going to fight this, and win, and you’ll be left with nothing. You have no one, Brent,” I add, furious. “No friends, no family, no money, no one who cares.”

He tries smirking at me again but it looks forced now, and I recognize a familiar panic in his eyes. He’s pathetic.

I glare at him, so relieved to finally be free. “Goodbye, Brent. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

Brent opens his mouth, but a voice from behind me cuts him off.

“You heard the lady.”

I turn. “Cam!” I exclaim. He’s standing in the doorway, and although he’s casually leaning, I can see his body is ready for a fight.

Brent looks between us. “I don’t need to bother with you,” he sneers, still trying to save face. “Enjoy jail.”

“Go. Now.” Cam’s voice is lethal. Brent quickly storms out.

I gulp for air, shaking. I didn’t realize I was so tense, but now exhilaration floods my body.

“Isabelle?” Cam strides into the apartment.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” I gasp. “After all this time, I finally told him where to go. And I meant it! It’s over, Cam. It’s all in the past now.”

He doesn’t smile. With a sinking feeling, I realize what I’ve done: disobeyed him. And to speak to Brent, which could endanger me and my case even more. “I’m sorry,” I blurt quickly. “I know you ordered me not to talk to him, but I had to try.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Cam says, but his face softens. “Did you mean what you just said to him?”

“About how crazy in love with you I am?” I meet his eyes and nod. “Every word.”

Cam grins, even though I can tell he’s still mad at me, too. “I’d proud of you, Isabelle,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “I know it took a lot of courage to stand up to him like that. But why didn’t you tell me? I could have been here for you.”

“I needed to come alone,” I explain, relieved. “Brent loves to show off. I knew that if I pushed him, I could get him to reveal what he’s doing behind all of this.”

“And?” Cam asks.

“And, I think I figured it out.” I look at him, my excitement building. “He said it was a girl, the witness he’s paying off to lie about what happened.”

Cam pulls out his phone. “I’ll tell Jake. Maybe that will narrow it down.”

“You don’t need to call him, I already know who it is. Britney, my foster sister. She was the only other one who could have been at the house that day. She’s the one who’s lying, she has to be.”

EIGHT: CAM

After Isabelle figures out that Brent is paying her former foster-sister to claim she killed Clayton on purpose, we have to move fast. I get Jake to dig out everything he can on this supposed witness; he tracks her to an address in Florida, not far from where Isabelle grew up.

“Petty theft, some drug charges, looks like she’s not exactly a model citizen,” Jake says on our conference call. I have the phone on speaker so Isabelle can hear, too.

“Doesn’t that help us?” she asks. “I mean, in court.”

Grant clears his throat, then speaks up on the other end of the line. “Maybe. But relying on a witnesses’ character is never a sure thing. After all, the prosecution will be trying to paint you as a bad person, too. They’ll use photos of you partying, all kinds of things to show you’re of poor moral character.”

“Which is why it’s important to get to this Britney and convince her to stop lying,” I decide. “We take off in a few minutes, I’ll call you once we land.”

I hang up and turn to Isabelle, sitting beside me in the cabin of the private company plane. It’s luxurious, with leather seats and a hostess on call to bring anything we want, but Isabelle looks terrified.

“Are you scared of flying?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m scared of what happens when we land.”

I pull her closer, squeezing her hand as the pilot revs up the engine and we taxi down the private airstrip. We take off smoothly, and soon, the small plane is cruising above the country.

“Score one for the Ashcroft fortune,” Isabelle cracks, trying to smile. The hostess comes back to take our orders.

“Can I get you anything?”

Isabelle shakes her head.

“You haven’t eaten all day, and we need to keep you in fighting shape,” I remind her. “We’ll take some fruit, and a couple of club sandwiches, thank you,” I request from the hostess. She moves back to the cabin to prepare our food.

Isabelle stares out of the window, anxiously twisting her bracelet around. I hate that she’s stuck in this nightmare, even though I’m doing everything I can to get her out. She’s so brave, facing down Brent and getting the information about the witness, but seeing her here, none of that strength is apparent: she looks like a scared child.

I don’t understand it. And then it hits me. She’s going home.

“You haven’t been back since Ashcroft adopted you?” I ask, concerned.

“No.” Isabelle swallows. “He offered… said we could try and find my mom, if I wanted, or relatives. You know, have a sense of my past. But I didn’t want to. The day I left, I swore I’d never go back.”

She blinks back tears, setting her jaw and forcing her gaze out the window. .

I feel a surge of protectiveness. “It’s not for long,” I reassure her. “I arranged an interview with the local police, so the judge is bending your rules on bail and letting you out of the state to answer their questions. Hopefully, we can get everything we need on Britney and be home before tomorrow night.”

Isabelle nods, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now, going back to the place that caused her so much pain and fear.

I pull her into my lap and cradle her, resting her head against my chest. “You’re not the same girl you were when you lived here,” I remind her. “You’ve built a whole new life.”

“And look what’s happened: it’s all come crashing down,” Isabelle counters. “I’ve been running so long, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave my past behind. I’m right back where I started.”

“No,” I correct her. “You’re older, and braver, and stronger than before. And you have me with you this time. I won’t let anything hurt you,” I promise. “We’ll face your old ghosts. Together.”

* * *

When the plane lands, I have a rental car meet us. Using GPS to guide us to the small town fifty miles outside Gainesville where all this began. Isabelle stares out the window at the scenery as it passes. Again, I marvel at her bravery – and beauty.

Anyone else, and I’d still be furious at her defying my direct order, but I’m realizing that our sub/Dom relationship isn’t so black and white anymore. I respect Isabelle’s choices, and when she took the risk to face Brent on her own, I know she was doing it for the both of us: so we could move on to the next chapter in her life.

“We can check in at the county sheriff’s office later,” I tell her, turning off the highway. “They’re the ones who had original jurisdiction in the case. They ruled it an accident back then, but they need to interview you for the fresh charges.”

“Will you stay with me?” Isabelle asks.

I give her a nod. “Of course.”

As if wild animals could drag me from her side.

As we drive, the landscape outside the windows gets more rural. Wide-open woods and swampland, with small, run-down homes and trailers set back from the road. It’s hard to imagine Isabelle growing up here: the woman I first met with Ashcroft was always so polished and perfect, she acted like she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and designer heels on her feet. But it was all just an act.

“It reminds me of where I grew up,” I tell her. Isabelle looks over, surprised.

“In Scotland?”

I nod. “It was a poor area too. Rural, in the Highlands. But beautiful. Coal mining and ship-building were the main trades for jobs, and when those dried up twenty, thirty years ago, a lot of people sank into unemployment and never got out. I was lucky,” I add, “My parents worked hard, dad retrained with computers. It was a modest living, but it was something.”

“But you still left,” Isabelle says.

“I wanted more,” I reply simply. “I felt trapped, stifled by the lack of opportunity. I had big dreams, I wanted it all.”

“And you made it,” Isabelle says, admiration in her voice. “You worked for everything you have now. Not like me.”

“Don’t say that,” I scold her gently. “We were both fortunate. Ashcroft chose us both, for whatever reason. He saw something in us, I guess. But what you did after that, it’s all you.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Isabelle’s voice twists. “Unless you count shopping and lunches.”

“And fund-raising, and all your charity work,” I remind her. “You do a lot more than most women in your situation.”

“Maybe. But being back here, seeing everything I left behind, it makes me feel like it’s not enough.” Isabelle exhales. “I mean, what if Ashcroft hadn’t adopted me? Would I have wound up like Britney? Like my mother?”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” I tell her honestly. “Don’t let all these old memories drag you back. We’re here for a reason, don’t lose sight of that.”

Isabelle gives me a small nod.

“We’re almost there.” I turn down another back road, the car bumping on the uneven track. I wonder if we’ve taken a wrong turn, but the address Jake found is right here: a small, single-level house that’s seen better days. The porch screen is torn, and the railing hangs off the edge.

“I guess we know why she took Brent’s money,” I remark.

“And what she’s spending it on.” Isabelle nods toward a new satellite dish on the roof, and a new-looking car in the drive.

We get out. “Are you ready?” I ask.

Isabelle gives a determined nod. “She was a sweet kid. I’m sure if I just talk to her, explain what her lies mean for me, she’ll take them back. She’s probably in way over her head. You know how Brent can be.”

We climb the front step and I knock on the door. But when Britney comes to open it, there’s no sign of the sweet kid Isabelle’s been talking about.

“What?” Britney demands, pushing the screen door open. She’s wearing cutoffs and a tank top, revealing an ugly tattoo. Her hair is bleached and ratty, and her face is tired, looking far older than her years.

“Britney?” Isabelle sounds shocked. “It’s me. Izzie Johnson.”

Britney looks freaked. She tries to slam the door, but I stick my foot in the way and elbow it open. “Not so fast,” I tell her.

“I just need to talk to you,” Isabelle begs. “Please, it’ll only take a minute.”

Britney’s eyes dart between us. “Fine,” she says, standing back from the door. “But only for a minute. I got to go.”

“Thank you.” Isabelle sounds grateful. She heads inside and I follow, looking carefully around. It’s a run-down room with peeling wallpaper, but I can see a stack of shopping bags and delivery boxes in the next room.

I make sure Britney is looking the other way, then I take out my phone and set it to ‘record.’

“It’s good to see you,” Isabelle says. She smiles at the girl. “How have you been?”

Britney doesn’t offer us anything to drink. She sits heavily on the couch and folds her arms, defensive.

“What do you think?” Britney scowls back. “Not everyone got taken off to some fancy big-city house to live with a perfect family.”

Isabelle’s face falls. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, even though she has nothing to apologize for.

I look at Britney and see the bitterness in her eyes. I can already tell, she’s the kind of person to blame everyone but herself for her lot in life. So instead of trying to make things better for herself, she’s tearing down Isabelle instead.

“We heard you’ve been talking to the police,” I speak up, trying to hide my anger.

Britney doesn’t look ashamed. “Maybe.” She gives a sullen shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Your lies concern me very much.” I glare. “You’re saying that Isabelle killed your foster father on purpose. Why would you do that?”

“It’s what happened. And you can’t say otherwise,” Britney smirks. “Those prosecutors in New York say you’re in real trouble now, Iz. Not so perfect anymore.”

I squeeze Isabelle’s hand.

“I don’t understand,” she says to Britney. “Why would you lie like that? Do you understand what they’re going to do to me? I could spend my life in jail!”

“Yeah, well I have to spend my life here,” Britney scowls. “You think I haven’t seen you, all these years? In all the magazines, having the time of your life. What makes you so special?” she demands. “Why should you get to live the high life while we’re all stuck back here?”

“I can’t answer that,” Isabelle sounds wretched. “But lying now? Britney, please. You weren’t even home that day. Don’t you remember? You were at school.”

“I never made it to school,” Britney says flatly. “I cut. So I could have been anywhere that day. Including at home.”

“You know I didn’t kill anyone,” Isabelle whispers. “It’s a lie. Please. Don’t do this.”

I hate watching her beg like this, but Britney is unmoved.

“I’m telling the truth.” She smirks. “Crisis of conscience, like. I’m doing my job as a good citizen, speaking up now so you don’t get off free.”

“Who told you to say that?” I demand, my temper fraying just listening to her foul lies. “You sound like you’re reading lines from a script.”

“Nobody told me.” Britney looks nervous. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s a pack of lies,” I declare. I get up, looming over her.

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Britney has the good sense to look scared now. “You need to leave.”

“Please, Britney,” Isabelle begs her. “Don’t do this to me. I always looked out for you, I tried to protect you from Clayton, so he wouldn’t go after you. Please, you can’t lie like this. I need you to tell the truth.”

“And what about what I needed?” Britney shoots back, her face twisted with bitterness. “Do you know what happened after that fire? I got bounced back into the system. One home after another, for years, while you got to have a real family. Money, and nice clothes, and everything you wanted. Why should you get to live the good life, huh? It’s my turn to get ahead now. You’ve had your turn. I got good money for making that statement, and Brent says there’s another fifty K coming once you get locked up.”

Isabelle gasps. “So he did pay you?”

Britney sneers. “So what if he did? Who’s going to believe you, killer?”

Isabelle clings to me, tears in her eyes. “Please,” she whispers. “Let’s go.”

“Not so fast,” I say, turning back to Britney. “Nobody will believe Isabelle,” I say, bringing my phone out from behind my back. “But they will believe you.”

I hit a couple of buttons, and replay Britney’s words.

“I got good money for making that statement, and Brent says there’s another fifty K coming once you get locked up.”

Isabelle gasps. “You recorded it?” she blinks at me.

“Every word.” I smile.

Britney panics. “You can’t—”

“I will,” I growl. “Perjury, obstructing the course of justice, wasting police time. You want to talk about prison sentences, you’re looking at one right now.”

Britney gulps, her eyes darting around again. “Wait. Please.”

“Give me one good reason why I should cut you a break?” I roar, furious. “You don’t even know how much hurt you’ve caused, the life you could have ruined.”

This girl would have taken Isabelle from me. My Isabelle.

“I should call the police right now!” I yell. Then I feel a hand on my arm.

“Don’t,” Isabelle says, sounding calm. She looks at Britney with sympathy in her eyes. “We won’t call the police,” she says, “On one condition. You call them first, and withdraw your statement. Tell them you were mistaken, that you weren’t there, and you don’t remember anything. Tell them the truth, the real truth this time,” she says. “And we’ll leave right now and never come back.”

Britney nods eagerly. “Whatever you want. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

Isabelle doesn’t blink. “I’m sorry too, Britney. But you can’t blame me for everything that’s wrong in your life. We were just kids back then, but you’re not a kid anymore.”

She turns around and walks out the door.

I pause a moment longer. “She may be in a forgiving mood, but I’m not so emotional,” I warn Britney. “I’m keeping this recording. You pull anything like this again, and I’ll be on the phone to your Sheriff. Then you can see what it’s like on the inside of a prison cell.”

I storm out, but when I reach the car, I find Isabelle sobbing, silent tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

“Nothing,” she chokes out. “I’m just so relieved.” She lifts her face, and I can see her smiling through the tears. “It’s over. It’s all over now.”

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” I smile, hugging her close. “We can go home now.”

“Yes.” Isabelle nods. “It’s time to go home.”

NINE: ISABELLE

The scene outside the car windows blurs with my tears of relief.

It’s over. I can’t believe it, my nightmare is finally done. The burden of the secrets I’ve been carrying for years melts away with every mile. I feel lighter, steadier.

Free.

Cam reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Ready to get back to New York?” he asks.

“So ready.”

I turn to look at him. The strong jaw, those dark eyes. Happiness washes over me, I’m so thankful to have him in my life.

“You never doubted me,” I realize. “Even when the police were saying those terrible things. You’ve never judged me either, for what happened with Brent…”

“You don’t deserve any judgment.” Cam brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss on my palm. “You amaze me, Isabelle, every day. You’ve made it through such hardship and struggle. You’ve been strong enough to survive, and now, I swear, I won’t let anything ever hurt you again.”

“I couldn’t have made it without you,” I say softly. “You were the one who gave me the strength to leave Brent, to finally break free from him. You’re the thought that kept me going when I was locked up in jail. It’s all because of you. When I think what might have happened if you hadn’t rescued me that night in the club…”

I trail off. The thought is too terrible to imagine. Would I still be under Brent’s cruel power, faking my way through empty, shallow days spent trying to impress all those society ‘friends’ with their luncheons and days at the club?

Would I still be going to sleep at night, feeling all alone in the world, wishing for something real, something that I didn’t even know how to put into words? I would never know the intense pleasure and incredible release that comes from being in Cam’s arms. Knowing him like I do, sharing myself with him, completely.

No limits. No rules.

Just love.

I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.

“Wait,” I say suddenly. “Can we make a stop first, before the airport?”

“Of course.” Cam looks over. “Where would you like to go?”

“It’s not far from here. Back towards town.”

I direct him down the old winding highways, feeling the tension grow in my chest the closer we get. The buildings get more and more familiar, until finally, we turn down the street to the trailer park where I grew up.

Broken-down trailers line the lot, with old cars and messy yards. A couple of kids run around and women look suspiciously at the fancy car as we slowly drive past.

“Here,” I say, reaching the end of a row. “Stop here.”

Cam shuts off the engine.

“This is where I’m from,” I say quietly. “This is where I lived when I was little.”

I check his face for judgment, but of course, there is none, only understanding.

I get out of the car. The lot where my mom’s trailer sat is empty now, overgrown with weeds and brambles.

Cam stands behind me. He slips his arms around my waist, and I lean back against his solid chest.

“Do you remember much?” he asks.

“Some.” I stare at the patch of grass. “My memories are blurry, more flashes than anything concrete. The walls were so thin at night, I could hear people fighting in the next trailer, and the sirens whenever the cops came to break up a fight. And my mom,” I add quietly. “I remember her, what she used to look like, at least. She would let me play with her costume jewelry. And when there were thunderstorms, we’d curl up together under the covers in bed, and she’d tell me stories, about a princess who lived in a beautiful house, with a white picket fence, and roses in the yard.”

I feel tears come again, but they’re not tears of sadness, just relief. “She tried,” I tell Cam, resting my cheek against him. “She tried to be my mom, but she didn’t have any help, and the drugs… She just wasn’t strong enough.”

He strokes my hair. “She loved you, I’m sure of it.”

I nod. A strange peace is settling over me. Coming here, facing my past, I think it’s what I’ve needed to finally feel free.

Looking around, I don’t feel ashamed anymore, just blessed that my life has taken me so far from this desperate, scared beginning.

I can’t let this chapter in my life define me anymore. I can finally lay these ghosts to rest.

“Let’s go.” I tell him. “I’m ready to move on.”

* * *

We drive back to the airfield, and board the waiting plane. Cam gets a phone call just before take-off.

“Yes… Are you sure? Good.”

He hangs up and turns back to me. “That was the Sheriff. Britney called and recanted her statement. They’re dropping all charges and closing the case.”

I gasp. “It’s really over?”

“Ancient history now.” But Cam doesn’t look happy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Brent.” He scowls. “I can’t believe he’ll get away with this.”

“He won’t.” I say confidently. “But right now, let’s celebrate.”

“You know what else this plane has?” Cam asks, his gaze turning dark and lustful.

My stomach twists with excitement. “What?”

“A bedroom.”

Cam takes another casual sip of champagne. My pulse is kicking hard. His eyes rake over me. “Unbuckle your seatbelt, go to the back of the plane, and take off all your clothes.” His voice is commanding, so freaking hot.

I fumble with my belt, eager to obey.

“And Isabelle?” Cam stops me. A dirty smile quirks on his lips. “Start without me.”

I hurry toward the back of the cabin, almost bumping into the hostess. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Just going to… take a nap.”

I’m sure she knows exactly what we’re about to do, but I don’t let it stop me. I quickly step into the small bedroom and close the door behind me. My heart races in anticipation.

It’s a small room, barely big enough for a bed, but it’s luxuriously appointed with glossy wood paneling and the finest linens. I strip off my clothes and climb onto the bed. Already, my body aches for Cam’s touch. It’s been too long since he was inside me, but even if he’d fucked me ten minutes ago, I would still crave him like this.

I could never get enough of him.

Start without me.

His sexy words echo in my mind. I lay back, totally naked, and slowly trace my hands over my body. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours caught up in anxious thoughts and fears, my brain working overtime. Now, it’s amazing to just let that all dissolve, and focus on nothing but my body.

How good it feels under my hands. How much better it will feel under his.

The door opens. I stroke down my belly, knowing the effect it will have on Cam. With a low groan, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. Then he leans back against the wall, still staring hotly at my naked body.

I stretch for him, displaying myself. Arching my back and letting my thighs drop open.

“Don’t stop,” he orders me. “Keep going.”

I catch my breath, then start to touch myself again, more intimate this time. I cup my breasts, gently squeezing my nipples into stiff peaks.

Cam makes a growl of approval.

“More,” he commands.

I move my hands lower, skimming past my belly and down to my pussy. I slowly circle my clit with one finger, moaning aloud as the pleasure ripples sweetly through me. Thank God the engines are roaring, because it’s about to get a lot louder in here.

Cam clenches his jaw, and quickly strips off his shirt and tie.

“How does it feel?” he asks, his voice ragged.

“So good,” I murmur, sinking my finger inside me. “Oh,” I moan. “I’m so wet. Cam…”

Cam yanks his pants and underwear off, and then he’s naked. His cock juts proudly, thick and ready.

I moan again, moving my fingers deeper inside, but imagining it’s him, splitting me wide open.

Cam kneels on the bed, straddling me. “Come here,” he growls. “Suck me, now.”

I sit up, eager to obey. I lick my tongue over the head of him, tasting salt and precum. I moan in appreciation, then move my hands to cup his ass.

“No.” Cam stops me. “Don’t stop touching yourself. I want to feel those juicy lips take every inch of me as you rub that sweet little clit.”

Wetness pools around my fingers. Fuck, I’m already so turned on I can’t think straight.

I move my hand back between my legs, keeping up the pressure on my clit as Cam thrusts his cock towards my mouth. I open wide, licking down the length of his shaft and back before finally taking him deep, all the way to the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” Cam curses with a groan. He fists my hair in one hand, controlling my motion as he pulls back, and then sinks between my lips again, harder. Deeper.

Yes.

I moan in pleasure, sucking eagerly, licking around the head as he pulls back and thrusts again. He yanks on my hair, totally controlling the pace and speed, increasing his tempo as he fucks my mouth in long, delicious strokes.

Oh God, I can’t get enough.

I whimper against him, sucking hungrily. I love the taste of him, the scent, the overwhelming demands of his cock as he plunges into me, taking mercilessly but leaving me begging for more with every stroke. I lose track of everything except his pleasure, surrendering totally to his command.

“I told you to touch yourself,” Cam growls. Suddenly, his hand joins mine between my legs, stroking with me, faster and harder. Oh God, now I’m so close to the edge, his thick fingers pressing between mine, deep inside me. He rubs my clit with his thumb, finger-fucking me in time with his thrusts, so that I’m totally lost to the wild frenzy of his cock and fingers and deep domination.

The pressure builds inside me, so fast I can’t hold back. Cam curls his fingers up high and shoves his cock deep down my throat, and then I’m coming, my cries muffled by his thick shaft. I’m still gasping in the throes of my climax when Cam suddenly pulls out and pushes me back on the bed.

He grabs my ankles in each hand and lifts them up around his neck, folding me back so my clenching pussy is totally exposed and open to him. In one swift thrust, he spears his cock inside me.

“Oh!”

I moan from the incredible sensation, fuck, so thick, so deep. He thrusts hard, riding my orgasm, pushing me to an unbelievable intensity. I arch against him, it feels too good, and Cam doesn’t stop. He pins me down with his strong body, pounding into me again until my cries of pleasure are mingled with his fierce animal grunts. I grab his ass now, pulling him into me, forcing him even deeper. I’m beyond everything I’ve felt before, and from the wild look in Cam’s eyes, he’s right here with me. He withdraws almost all the way, and then slams into me in a deep thrust I feel all the way through my body.

“Yes!” I cry. “Cam! Oh my God!”

He thrusts again, rubbing deep inside me, filling me up with his thick, demanding cock.

“Come for me!” he orders, with another savage thrust that fills me completely and sets my blood on fire. “Come right now!”

I have no choice but to obey. I come again, sobbing with pleasure, and then Cam surges into me again, spurting deep inside of me as his body convulses and we ride out our epic climaxes together, our eyes locked.

We lay there, panting for breath. Suddenly, the intercom sounds. “We’ll shortly be making out descent into New York City. Please return to your seats and prepare for landing.”

I giggle. “You think we should get dressed first?”

Cam chuckles. “Only for now. I promise you, once I get you home, you’re not leaving my bed for days. Weeks. Months!”

“That sounds just fine to me.” I smile, blissful. A hot man, great sex, and total freedom? Sign me up.

My future starts right now.

TEN: CAM

It’s late by the time we arrive back in the city. Isabelle looks sleepy, but I have one last surprise for her in store.

“Where are we?” she yawns, looking around as the car comes to a stop. “Are we home yet?”

“Not just yet. First, I thought we’d stop for some dinner,” I tell her.

“Can’t we order in?” She slides a hand up my thigh with a tousled, sexy smile. “Clothing optional.”

Any other time, I would have her tied to the bed with chocolate smeared over her pert breasts, but I know that after everything she’s been through, Isabelle needs to know her new life is starting now.

I want to show her how loved she is, and I won’t do it alone.

“I promise, I’ll make it worth your while later,” I tell her, already thinking of all the things I’m going to do. “Starting with a few new toys I picked up…”

Isabelle’s eyes brighten with excitement. I love how she responds to me: not just my body, but my words, too. Seeing desire written all over her face is the biggest turn on in the world, and I have to pause to adjust my pants before I follow her out of the car.

“The Gramercy Tavern,” she claps her hands together, looking more awake when she realizes where we are. “My favorite.” Then her face falls. “But Cam… People still think… Shouldn’t I stay home, just until news that the charges have been dropped spreads, and people don’t look at me like I’m a murderer?”

“You’re not waiting a single moment longer to live your life,” I tell her. I take her hand, and lead her inside. “We’re going to show everyone that their gossip and lies can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here for you,” I add, as every head turns to watch us walk in. I squeeze her hand. “And your friends are, too.”

“My friends?” Isabelle repeats. Then she sees the table across the room and gasps.

“Surprise!” Keely exclaims, moving to greet us. “Well, second time’s a charm,” she grins. She kisses Isabelle warmly on both cheeks. “Since your birthday got cut short, we thought we’d celebrate twice over. After all, you have plenty of good news now that the charges have been dropped!”

Isabelle turns to me, laughing. “How did you have time to call them?” she asks, as we move through the crowd to the table.

“I found a moment, while you were occupying yourself on the flight.” I wink, and she blushes.

At the table, Keely and Vaughn, Justine and Ash, and Olivia are all gathered. Isabelle looks overwhelmed as she hugs them all in turn.

“Let’s get some champagne,” Ash announces. “To toast your freedom.”

Justine shudders. “I can’t imagine being locked up like that. I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” I say quickly, worried.

But Isabelle just smiles. “It’s OK. I made it through, that’s the important thing. And now I have the rest of my life to enjoy.”

We all get champagne and appetizers, and soon everyone’s having a great time. I love to see Isabelle like this: her face lit up with happiness as she chats with the other women. I remember the snooty ice queen I first met, so used to locking all her feelings inside. Now, there’s nothing detached about her. Her emotions are written all over her face. She looks joyful and free.

“To Isabelle,” I raise my glass in a toast. “And the future.”

“To Isabelle,” everyone choruses.

She beams. “And I want to toast you guys, too. Your friendship means everything to me. You all stepped up to help me through this in different ways. You finding the lawyer, Justine, and you giving me advice and support,” she says, nodding to Olivia and Keely. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Her eyes meet mine. ‘Thank you’ she mouths silently, and I know her gratitude is to me too.

But I’m the lucky one. This woman has opened my heart, and my life. She wasn’t the only one who was closed off. Before her, I was so focused on keeping total control in my life that I sacrificed the discovery of new relationships. I thought my life at the Underground was something to keep hidden, not to celebrate.

I didn’t think I could ever find someone who would satisfy my need for domination—and give me the respect and love of a real partner, too.

But Isabelle is different. She’s opened my eyes to a pleasure that doesn’t have to be kept locked away in a secret room. She fulfills my every desire, and shows me so much more, too. She’s everything to me.

I clear my throat, about to say something, when a hush falls over the table.

“Well, well, well.” A familiar sneering voice comes from behind me. “Look who’s enjoying her final moments of freedom.”

Brent.

I see red.

For weeks now, I’ve been holding back my anger, not wanting to make things worse for Isabelle. He has a power over her, a reason to keep my rage in check. But no more.

In one motion, I push back my chair, spin around, and smash him across the jaw in a hard left hook.

Another diner shrieks.

I stalk toward him and drag him up. Brent howls in pain, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

I want to wipe that cruel smirk off his face forever, and make sure he can never harm Isabelle again. I’ve never hated anyone like this. I feel rage pumping through me, drowning out the yells and noise – everything except one voice.

Hers.

“Cam.”

It cuts through my fury, the soft sound of her voice.

“Cam, that’s enough.”

I reel back, panting. Brent slumps to the floor in a mess. He splutters, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Rage still burns in me. No amount of pain could ever be enough for the damage he’s tried to do.

Isabelle steps around me, and slowly approaches Brent’s pathetic body. “Listen to me very carefully,” she begins, her voice clear and calm. The whole restaurant is hushed, watching us all, but Isabelle doesn’t cringe or flinch away from the attention. She stands over him, tall and regal.

Beautiful.

“You’re finished, Brent. Done. You have no money, no trust fund, and no friends in this town anymore. I stopped Cam today, but only because you’re not worth the trouble of an assault charge. If you ever so much as look at me again, I won’t hold him back. We will end you.”

Isabelle towers over him, her words icy clear.

“Don’t ever set foot near me again. If you see me on the street, walk the other way. In fact, get the hell out of New York, and don’t ever come back.”

“Agreed.” Keely joins her. “You’re an insult to the Ashcroft name, Brent. You’re done at the company, and I’ll make it known that anyone who does business with you in any way won’t have a home at Ashcroft Industries anymore.”

“And don’t even think about going into business elsewhere,” Ash adds, moving to stand with them. “My contacts span the globe. You’re so fucking finished.”

“And just in case you don’t get it,” Vaughn adds, stooping to grasp Brent’s bloody collar. “I know people. The kind of people who can make you disappear for good. Understand?”

Brent looks between us. “You’re all crazy,” he says.

Isabelle laughs. “They’re my family,” she corrects him. “Now get the hell out. You’re ruining my party.”

I give him a look. Brent scrambles to his feet. “I’ll press charges,” he stutters at me.

“For what?” I spread my hands. “You tripped.”

“He’s right,” Justine agrees. “You took a nasty tumble. Hit your face on the way down. Several times. We all saw it.”

With a final curse, Brent slinks off. The whole restaurant breaks into applause.

Isabelle throws her arms around me. “Is it terrible that I found that really sexy?” she whispers in my ear.

“Not at all,” I tell her. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, to anyone who ever hurts you.”

She smiles. “Good to know. But I think we’ve seen the last of my problems. I’m looking forward to a stress-free, quiet life from now on.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Olivia laughs, raising her glass.

So what’s ahead for you now?” Justine asks, when the waiters have cleared the mess away, and we’re all settled back at the table to eat.

Isabelle yawns. “Sleep, for starters.” She laughs. “No, I was thinking about making an appointment with the Ashcroft Trust next week. I realized that we have all kinds of charitable projects running, so I thought maybe we could set something up to help kids from my background. Programs for foster children, kids in care homes. Something to give them opportunities and support. If that’s OK,” she adds, looking to Keely.

“Of course, that sounds like a great idea,” she exclaims.

I squeeze Isabelle’s shoulder, proud.

“Why don’t we get together for lunch tomorrow?” Keely suggests. “I can dig out some of the paperwork so we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Not tomorrow,” I interrupt. “I have plans for us.”

“Sure you do,” Keely smirks.

“Not that,” I chuckle, even though it’s on the agenda too. “I have a surprise planned.”

“Another one?” Isabelle looks confused. “You’re already spoiling me.”

“It’s only what you deserve,” I reply, looking around for the waiter. “Now, how about we get dessert to go, before you fall asleep right here at the table?”

“Sorry,” Isabelle says. “It’s been a long day.”

“Don’t worry,” I stroke her hand. “We have plenty of time.”

Tomorrow. And all our tomorrows, if my plan goes right. Because coming so close to losing her has made me realize the one simple fact: I need Isabelle in my life permanently.

And I always get what I want.

ELEVEN: ISABELLE

I sleep like a rock, so exhausted from our day. I can’t believe Cam planned that surprise dinner with everyone – and finally getting rid of Brent, too, was the cherry on top. Now that I know nothing can stand in my way, it’s an incredible feeling.

I could lounge in bed forever, but Cam fixes us breakfast and hustles us out the door into his Jag.

“Where are we going now?” I ask, curious. “It’s not like you to turn down a morning in bed,” I add.

Cam chuckles. “You’ll see. And believe me, I’ll be taking a raincheck on that lie-in.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder, looking relaxed as he drives us out of the city.

I examine his hand. “You’re a little bruised,” I say, tenderly cradling it.

“You should see the other guy.”

Watching Brent finally get what he deserves was a relief, and even though I don’t usually agree with violence, it was amazing to feel so protected. All Cam’s power and focus channeled into teaching Brent a lesson. For me.

Knowing that he’ll be too afraid to come after me again is a blessed feeling.

It’s a beautiful day, and soon we’re speeding through the countryside in lush Connecticut. Cam turns off the freeway, driving through a quaint, upscale town, the kind of place with a picture-perfect Main Street, and little local stores.

“It’s so pretty,” I remark, happily drinking in the sunshine. There are kids playing in the town square, and everything about this place is safe and warm. “I can’t believe it’s so close to the city, but it feels like another world.”

Cam smiles a secret smile, turning down a street lined with big old oak trees. The houses here are amazing: old mini-mansions, with character and cute details. He pulls up in a driveway at the end of the street.

“What is this place?” I ask, getting out and looking up at the house. It’s a big old Victorian-style house, with white shutters and a red tile roof. There are roses growing around the door, and wide front porch with a rocking chair, looking out on the neat front lawn that’s edged with a white picket fence.

“Home,” Cam replies.

My heart stops.

“What do you mean?” I whisper, turning. He stands beside me, his eyes full of emotion.

“It’s our home,” he says. “Just like the one you always wanted. A place for us to live, and raise a family of our own one day.”

Then, like something out of a dream, he gets down on one knee, right there in the front yard. Cam pulls a ring box from his pocket, and opens it to reveal a perfect diamond ring. He takes a breath.

“I’m never letting you go again, Isabelle, not as long as we both live. You’re everything to me. I love you more than anything, more than life itself. You’ve shown me the kind of joy I never thought possible. You accept everything I am, without question. Without limits.” Cam looks choked up, but he keeps talking. “Be my wife, Isabelle. Let me show you a lifetime of love, and pleasure. Whatever you want, it’s yours, you just have to say yes.”

My heart pounds. I feel so happy, I could float away right now. I nod, unable to find the words, until finally, I manage to speak.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Cam slides the ring onto my finger, and then sweeps me into his arms. “Say it again,” he demands, his eyes flashing with hot possessive passion.

“Yes.” I grin, loving the way this ring looks on my finger. It’s a promise. A mark of ownership. “Yes, Master.”

THE END

Thank you to all the readers and bloggers who picked up my books and read them so passionately. Your comments, tweets, and support is a balm to my heart. It makes everything so much more meaningful and fun. And I hope you had fun ;) !

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NOW OUT, THE COMPLETE SERIES:
THE INVITATION

"A woman's orgasm is an art. It takes finesse. And I'm the world-class master of making women come."

Hot, English businessman Ashton made a pact not to screw up his friendship with Justine 'JJ' Jenkins over a cheap one-night stand. Now, two years later, he's going out of his mind with wanting her -- but she's still off-limits. Now school is over, and his control is wearing thin. They've got one last night together, and he's determined to make it an experience she'll never forget.

The one girl he swore off is going to have the night of her life. And with a sexy game of dare on the table, it won't take long...

THE INVITATION

THE INVITATION 2

THE INVITATION 3

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THE SEDUCTION

All women look the same on their knees with their lips wrapped around my cock.

You like to think you're different, special somehow. But trust me, I'll have you wet and begging for it before you can think of all those bullshit, good girl reasons why not.

I'm your darkest secret. Your dirtiest fantasy.

Who am I?

The Seducer.

And I've never lost a case.

Until her. Keely Fawes. My mysterious new target.

Someone wants to destroy her -- and I'm their weapon of choice.

Her secrets could be my undoing. Her innocence will ruin me.

But I don't care.

I'm going to show her how fucking good it feels to be bad. She'll come screaming my name if it's the last thing I do.

THE SEDUCTION

THE SEDUCTION 2

THE SEDUCTION 3

THE SEDUCTION 4