Page 55 of Bought

Isabel.

It had to be a coincidence of course, because it couldn’t be my Isabel. How could it? How would my little sub know my daughter? There were millions of Isabels all over the world and the chances of her friend being Isabel Fox were remote. Too remote to worry about.

And yet….

I didn’t know who the little sub was. I didn’t even have her name. I knew she’d had an abusive father and had run away when she was sixteen, but that was it. I could have asked her more questions — I’d threatened her with them after all. But I hadn’t wanted to. Part of me didn’t want to demand them. Part of me wanted her to give them to me.

She’d been so sweet today, so delicious. Blushing when I showed my approval, and it was clear she thrived on that and my attention. Holding her in my lap and feeding her had been a special privilege, especially when she’d obviously enjoyed the food I’d cooked for her. Punishing her was pleasurable, but rewarding her… That had been a delight.

Her sweet mouth, hot and soft, sucking me like a fucking dream. Inexperienced yes, but she’d followed my lead beautifully. Even as I rewarded her, she rewarded me. I was already planning on how to reward her more, but that text reminded me that she was still an unknown. A stranger I’d let into my home.

Into my bedroom.

She wasn’t a physical threat to me, but she might be a journalist. She might be someone already working on a story about Tennyson Fox’s sexual proclivities. Or she might be someone more sinister. Someone sent by my enemies to get some kind of information from my house or about my house.

I hadn’t known the truth about Sir George and my ignorance had almost led to getting Isabel hurt. I’d never risk ignorance again.

Getting my own phone out of my pocket, I hit Atlas’s number.

“What the fuck, Ten?” he answered. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“And yet you’re awake enough to answer the phone.”

“It’s Saturday night,” he said, as if that explained everything, which if you knew Atlas it did.

“I assume your ‘situation’ is handled?” I asked, referring to Friday night’s text conversation.

He let out an audible breath. “Yeah, pretty much. So, what’s up?”

I frowned. He was usually much more expansive when it came to his ‘situations’ and I wondered why he wasn’t bothering to explain now. Then again, it wasn’t any of my business, so I said, “I need to find out the name of the woman who sold her virginity to me on Friday night.”

“Fucked if I know,” Atlas said. “You could try asking Cal. But you know what he’s like about privacy.”

Oh yes, I knew. It would be easier to get blood from a stone.

“Can you find out?” I asked.

There was a long silence.

“Why, pray tell?” Atlas asked, deceptively casual. “You can’t do it yourself?”

I hadn’t planned on telling him that I’d kept the little sub and that she was still here, mainly because he’d give me no end of grief about it. He knew how much of a stickler I was about security, not to mention that I’d never taken a woman back to my house, let alone a stranger.

But there was no help for it. I’d only end up with more questions from him, making this whole procedure take longer than it should, and I didn’t want to deal with it. So, I said, “Arcadia won’t give me that information, you know that.”

“Surely you’ve got tech minions who can hack into something?”

“No one else can know,” I said. “I just need a name.”

There was another long silence.

“Did you take her home?” Atlas asked.

“Yes,” I bit out.

Atlas gave a low whistle. “Finally, my friend. I’m not surprised. She was one sweet—”

“The name, Atlas.”