Page 15 of Delicious Surrender
She knew the drill this time. After ringing the bell, the front gate clicked open. Miles deposited her in the same small waiting room, and she saluted his retreating form. She started pacing back and forth, talking to herself. “Don’t let this dude intimidate you with his snarky attitude. You didn’t come this far to be turned down for a waitressing job! Forget how hot he is and imagine him in his underwear… No, never mind, scratch that. He gets off on being a mean motherfucker, so don’t let him getto you!”
She stared at herself in the mirror, legs apart, hands planted on her hips. “You’ve got this!”
After power posing, she sat down and picked up a glossy entertainment magazine from the coffee table. Her eyes lit on the bondage magazine underneath.
Gazing at the erotic photos felt as forbidden as sneaking into her aunt’s liquor cabinet when she was fifteen. The centerfold showed a demonstration of Shibari, a type of erotic rope bondage. The intricate pattern of symmetrical knots reminded her of the way Patricia had tied her. The look of rapture in the woman’s eyes felt all too familiar.
A sudden noise at the door caused Brynne to screech and drop the magazine. She leaped up as Miles opened the door. Would he ever look at her without frowning?
She smoothed her skirt and tucked a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear, feigning a confidence she no longer felt. Silently, she followed him down the hall, chanting a mantra in her head.Don’t lose your cool, don’t lose your cool!
Miles knocked and stepped aside. She looked to him for guidance, but his face was blank. A voice as sweet and dark as molasses replied from behind the door. “Aye, come in. I’ll be right there.”
Brynne entered and looked around. Seeing no one behind the large mahogany desk, she took in the beautifully appointed office. A massive leather couch dominated the room. Dark charcoal gray walls, antique gold sconces, stunning herringbone wood floors, and a thick Persian carpet created the feeling of asumptuous cave. There was a distinctive scent in the air, a hint of sandalwood and citrus. The lightly woodsy smell reminded her of her favorite incense, calming her nerves a little.
A door opened behind the massive desk, and he walked in. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to gasp. Her heart thrummed loudly in her ears and her fingers clenched the portfolio in her hands.
“Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair facing the desk. His Scottish accent was less pronounced than the other day, but the deep pitch of his voice still thrummed along her nerve endings.
She could feel his eyes on her, following her every step. Relieved to make it to the chair without incident, she sat down quickly and winced when her sore bottom hit the wood. If he noticed, he didn’t let on.
She went to pull a notebook and pen from her handbag and realized it wasn’t on the floor or behind her chair.
He interrupted her restless fidgeting. “What seems to be the problem, Miss Larimore?”
“I think I left my purse in the other room. I—” she stammered.
“You can get it when our meeting is over. It will be perfectly safe.”
“Of course. Thank you, sir.” For a split second she saw something flare in his eyes, but it was swiftly replaced by a stern interrogator’s face.
“As you know, I make the final decision about whether to hire you. Or not.”
To keep from smiling like a nervous schoolgirl, she bit down on her lip and nodded.
While he looked over her application, Brynne drank in the sight of him. His angular jawline was sharply cut, shadowed with just the right amount of designer stubble which added to his formidable aura. There was an edge to his handsomeness, refined, and yet dangerous. This man would own any room he walked into, without needing to say a word.
She was taking notice of his long-tapered fingers and smooth, trimmed nails when he noisily cleared his throat. Her breath stuttered to a halt as she came back to reality and noticed his piercing eyes trained on her. Was he trying to unlock her secrets? Uncover her lies? She tried and failed to hold his gaze. It was like looking at an eclipse without proper eye protection.
“I’ve read Garrick’s notes and your responses to our interview questions, but I’m curious why you’re interested in working at Dominus. Many of our members are older, some even twice your age. Are you looking for a new master—or perhaps a sugar daddy?”
Brynne’s mouth dropped open before she could stop it. “No, I’m not interested in finding either! I’m here because your club puts safety above all. You carefully vet your clientele, and that makes it better than the other fetish clubs in London.” She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. “I have another day job, so discretion is important to me.”
“What is this other job?”
He’d obviously never read her resume, and that irritated her. “I’m a copy editor at theLondon Mirror.I don’t want anyone to know I, this…” She paused, at a loss for words.
“This deviant side of your personality?” He smiled…if you could call that weird contortion of his mouth a smile.
Her lips compressed, and she reminded herself this was a test. “I don’t think of it asdeviant. But yes, I keep my private life private.” She looked down at her lap and mentally scolded herself for getting agitated.
“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you discretion and privacy are the two most important facets of this job. You signed an NDA, so if you dared to write a story about this club, you would kiss your career goodbye.” His eyes burned through another layer of her armor.
Brynne licked her lips, her mouth parched. “I am not a reporter. I’m here for personal reasons and because I need the extra money. I’ve no interest in participating, I just want to watch.” Her eyes widened and her gaze flew to his. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
One perfect eyebrow lifted. “So, you just want to serve drinks and play the voyeur rather than take part as one of our submissives?” His fingers grazed the coarse shadow along his jawline. “You said you have no interest in finding a master. Why is that?”
“I recently broke up with my boyfriend. He wasn’t—it wasn’t what I hoped. So, I just want to take my time and figure things out.”