FatalSubmission Page 4

  Pain would become something she wanted. Desired. Her longing would become as strong as his need to administer the agonized ecstasy all submissives craved, whether they admitted it to themselves or not. He knew what she required. And Daniel was prepared to deliver.

  His fingers caressed the image once again as he promised, “Soon, Claire. Soon!”

  A glance at his watch got Daniel moving.

  Discipline is essential in all things.

  He removed his smock, hung it from a peg on the wall and glanced about the section of the garage he’d converted into a darkroom, noting everything was in its proper place.

  Order prevents chaos.

  Satisfied, he stepped into the laundry room and washed his hands at the sink before venturing into the hallway. The phone rang as he walked into the kitchen. Daniel frowned at the phone for a moment before warily picking it up and offering a congenial greeting. He listened to the soft yet husky voice coming through the line and a pleased grin spread over his lips.

  “Well, hello. How nice to hear from you.”

  * * * * *

  “Damn, girl, you look done in.”

  Claire handed a sheaf of papers over to Valerie Fallon, mortgage loan manager at First National Bank, and dropped down into a chair in front of her desk.

  “This week sucked big fat—”

  “Whoa. Watch it, Claire.” Val plastered a smile on her face and glanced around to see if anyone noticed the outburst. “There are customers in here.”

  Huffing out a breath, Claire blew her bangs from her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Need to talk?”

  Lord, she loved Val. Her friend never pushed but also never failed to offer a sympathetic shoulder to lean on. And she could definitely use some friendly advice.

  She shrugged, not surprised by the tightness in her knotted muscles. “Lots of little stuff adding up to one big week of aggravation. Bob at Sutherland Bank gave me a bunch of shit over an appraisal. Then I got a flat and had to buy new tires, which sooo wasn’t in the budget.”

  “Yeah.” Val arched her brow. “What else?”

  Sheesh, she must be transparent because everyone saw right through her lately. “Mason is still stringing me along. We were supposed to have dinner Wednesday and he cancelled at the last minute, claiming he had to work. Christ, Val, if I don’t get some soon I just might go stark raving mad.”

  Her friend snorted. “You can’t blame a lack of nookie for that, babe. You lost it long ago.”

  She rubbed her nose with her middle finger, giving her “friend” a one-fingered salute.

  “Go on. I know there’s more.”

  Claire leaned forward, resting her elbows on Val’s desk. Her friend leaned in too, allowing her to speak softly. Hell if she wanted anyone getting an earful about her sexual dysfunction. “I met a guy in that little park by U of I last week. Holy crap, Val. He’s smart—a doctor. Gorgeous as all get-out—like model gorgeous. Dresses expensive so he’s got money.”

  Claire chewed on her lip, considering how much to say. Val knew about her submissive side and struggles to find what she needed. Didn’t understand what she was going through but was aware of the issues. She took a deep breath and whispered the key factor. “He’s a Dom.”

  Val leaned even closer. “Yeah, and what happened? Did you talk? Was he interested?”

  “We talked for a long time. Definitely interested. He gave me his number. We’ve talked on the phone some.”

  “All right,” Val shouted then glanced around as her cheeks turned red. “So what’s the problem? Call the hunk and get your itch scratched.”

  “I promised Mason that I wouldn’t get myself off or let anyone else touch me sexually.”

  Val’s face scrunched up with indignation. “Hold the phone. You haven’t done anything with Mason yet, right?”

  “Not really. Phone sex, a few kisses and a bit of verbal teasing, but no actual sex.”

  “You’re not exactly in a committed relationship and already he’s breaking dates. I say dump him and go after the hunk. Either that or date both and see if either guy turns out to be a keeper.”

  “Carl is nice…sexy…dominant…”

  “Buuut? What’s the but?”

  She sighed. “I want Mason.”

  Val leaned back and slowly crossed her arms over her chest. “And what are you going to do about it?”

  Claire grinned. “Jump his bones. We’re having dinner tonight.” She glanced up at the clock over the teller windows. “In a couple of hours. Shit, I need to go get ready.” Springing up out of the chair, she gestured toward the papers. “Appraisal is pretty much what you expected. No surprises.”

  Val rose and came around the desk to hug Claire then grabbed her shoulders and got right up in her face. “Don’t give him another chance. If Mason messes up tonight, then call the hunk from the park.”

  She nodded, agreeing with her friend. She hated games and was done playing with Mason. “Thanks, Val. I will.”

  “Good! Have some fun, you deserve it, babe. You work too damn hard.”

  Claire laughed. “Ha, pot to kettle.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have a sex machine at home in bed waiting for me. You don’t.”

  “Bitch,” she groaned. “Don’t remind me of your wedded bliss and make me hate you.”

  “You’re not allowed to hate your best friend.”

  “Oldest friend,” she countered.

  “I’m only twenty-eight. You’re a year older than me, babe.”

  “Thanks so much for pointing that out,” Claire grumbled.

  “Anytime. Now would you get out of here and go get laid already? And come back with details. I want explicit, juicy details.”

  “Sure thing, soon as you start giving me details about you and John.”

  “Hey,” Val complained, “I thought you were supposed to be submissive and follow orders.”

  Claire laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. “Val, you are the least dominant person I know and you know I love you,” she gave her friend a blatant once-over, “but you don’t do it for me.”

  Val slapped a hand over her mouth to keep the laughter in, which had Claire grinning the whole way out to her car. Driving home to her small apartment, Claire’s mood was much lighter. Her friend’s suggestion was good. She’d give Mason this one last chance before moving on.

  She decided to go all out for their dinner date, using hot rollers and teasing her hair into a fluffy mane that would make a lion proud. After searching her closet, she chose a black cocktail dress with a princess neckline, lace overlay and puffy white satin bows at the wide, padded shoulders. Ruching over the bodice accentuated her hourglass figure to perfection.

  Going a little heavier than usual on the makeup, she went for a sultry look with eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow and deep-red lipstick. For the final touch, Claire clipped white bows onto her plain black pumps, turning them into a perfect match for the dress.

  Walking from her car to the restaurant, she received an appreciative whistle from a workman across the street, which put a smile on her lips and a little extra sway in her hips.

  She looked damn good and she knew it.

  The hostess showed her to the table Mason had reserved. Glancing around the upscale restaurant, she decided it was elegant without being fussy enough to make her uncomfortable.

  Since Mason hadn’t arrived yet, she decided he should buy her an expensive glass of wine to make up for his perpetual tardiness, and entertained herself by people-watching.

  A couple at a nearby table were not having a good night. His posture was tense and the woman’s expression reflected anger and hurt. After a hushed yet heated discussion the woman threw her napkin on the table and stormed out. The man counted out some money, dropped it on the table and rushed after her.

  Two elderly couples shared a quiet meal, laughing on occasion and seeming to genuinely enjoy each other’s company.

  At another table, a mother scolded her young son severa
l times before smacking his thigh to gain his compliance. Antsy in the fancy restaurant, the child swung his feet under the table, which inched the tablecloth toward him. Oh boy, he was going to end up with his plate in his lap if he kept it up.

  By the time the hostess approached her, Claire was bored out of her mind and incessantly drumming her fingers on the table.

  “Excuse me, Miss Hanson?”

  Claire felt a headache coming on. “Yes.”

  “Mr. Burke called and asked me to extend his regrets. He’s tied up at work and won’t be able to make it tonight.”

  “Un-fucking believable,” she hissed.

  “Would you like to order dinner, ma’am?”

  Don’t kill the messenger. “No, thank you.”

  “I’ll send your waiter over with the check.”

  She nodded and the woman quickly walked away.

  One glass of wine—fourteen dollars. Exorbitant tip for the very kind and understanding waiter—ten dollars. Being stood up by Mason for the second time in the same week—unforgivable.

  She arrived home to a blinking light on her answering machine.

  “Hi, Claire. Sorry I missed you.” Carl sighed heavily, the sound making her chest tighten. He didn’t sound good. “Bad night. Talking to you would have helped.” He paused, sounding uncertain. “Would you call me when you get in?”

  Damn it. Carl had needed her and she’d been spinning her wheels once again waiting for Mason. She’d wasted a lot of time waiting for him.

  She recalled Val’s advice.

  “If Mason messes up tonight, then call the hunk from the park.”

  Time to put plan B into action. Claire picked up the phone and dialed the now-familiar number. “Carl, looks like it’s your lucky night.”

  Shoving all thoughts of Mason aside, she focused on the sexy Dominant doctor during the long drive. Turned out he lived on the outskirts of Urbana, way out in the boonies, which made her a little nervous.

  She didn’t know Carl well, although they had talked on the phone a lot. He devoted most of his days to work. During the evening hours, he was often sad and lonely. His previous lover had died. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the woman he’d obviously cared a great deal for. Claire had considered asking but didn’t want to make him talk about something that brought such sorrow to his voice.

  Carl needed help to shake off the bad memories and move on. He needed her. She needed to submit. Seemed like a no-brainer. She still wanted Mason but Carl had time for her. And he had a lot going for him.

  “He’s drop-dead gorgeous.” No doubt about that. Carl belonged on billboards. And yet she’d got the sense he wasn’t aware of his amazing good looks.

  “He’s a doctor.” A headshrinker. Which made her pay careful attention to everything she said. How weird would it be to date a guy who’d analyze her every word and action?

  Claire shivered and decided not to focus on his profession.

  “He’s got money.” The man dressed in expensive clothes and had one heck of a fancy camera. And he owned a house. But money wasn’t everything.

  “Definitely a Dom.” As with Mason, power radiated from Carl. Both men had the commanding Dom voice down pat, although Carl had the added advantage of his sexy accent. When he spoke it turned her on and then some. Then there were the dimples.

  Claire sighed.

  “And he has his very own private dungeon.” She admitted to herself the dungeon was a major draw.

  But you still prefer Mason, her inner voice chimed in.

  “Hey, submissive doesn’t mean doormat.” Obviously she ranked pretty low with Mason since he couldn’t make any time to be with her. Either that or he’d decided they didn’t fit and the bastard lacked the balls to tell her. She’d thought they connected but maybe he hadn’t felt the same.

  Meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror, she ordered, “Stop beating a dead horse. No more thinking about Mason tonight.” Claire nodded in agreement. Sticking to her resolve would be another story.

  When she arrived at a quaint two-story country farmhouse, she rechecked the address she’d scribbled on a piece of paper then took another look at the house. It was rather isolated with no visible neighbors. Pale-yellow with olive-green accents on the window shutters and railing of the wraparound porch. Nicely landscaped with small, well-trimmed shrubs. Lights brightened the lower floor windows while the upstairs remained dark and a bright porch light had been turned on, likely in anticipation of her visit.

  A dream house.

  Carl’s home was the kind of place meant for a family. She could almost hear the laughter of children playing in the yard with their dog. She’d certainly never guess the owner had built a dungeon in the basement. The place was too cheery for such dark practices.

  And yet something felt…off. She couldn’t put her finger on what about the charming picture didn’t fit. Maybe if she stared long enough she’d find some ugly wart to ruin the peaceful effect. But no matter how long she looked, she didn’t see a single thing to justify the odd fluttering in her belly.

  The front door opened, silhouetting Carl in a warm glow of light. Lord, he took her breath away and dropped the bottom right out of the strange path her thoughts had taken. He shot her a questioning glance and she heard his yummy accent in her head. “Are you staying or going?”

  While the phone sex she’d shared with Mason had temporarily taken the edge off, she’d been left wanting more. Craving more. Instinct told her Carl would satisfy her every need. And it was long past time to be selfish and go after something that would please her. Mason had shown her that.

  Staying. Definitely staying.

  Decision made, she turned off the ignition, stepped out of the car and flashed her most seductive smile. Her heels clicked on the stone path, up the steps and across the wooden porch. She took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of Polo and man.

  Neither of them spoke. Words weren’t needed, they both knew why she’d come.

  Chapter Four

  Mason dropped into his chair and smacked a thick file folder on the desk in frustration. Why couldn’t he get a fucking break? He’d spent hours going over every inch of his cousin’s apartment with a fine-toothed comb, searching for anything the police might have missed, coming up empty-handed. Again.

  In the two months since Trina went missing, he’d gone out of his mind trying to find some clue as to what had happened. She wasn’t a flighty girl. In fact, she took her life and job seriously. For her to disappear without a trace or any indication of why made no sense.

  The cops had come to the conclusion that she’d simply taken off, possibly with a lover. Mason didn’t buy it. She’d worked hard to earn an internship at the law office. No way would she turn her back on that. Trina also got along great with her family and would never leave them to worry.

  But there was no evidence to support his belief she’d been taken. Her neat and tidy apartment showed no signs of a struggle. Before leaving she’d washed the dishes and left them on the drying rack. The place had been locked up awaiting her return. Her car sat in its assigned spot, which wasn’t unusual as she lived within walking distance of the law office and several stores.

  Leafing through the pages of her day planner, he still didn’t see anything to raise suspicion. There were notes to remind her of deadlines for work, an appointment with her dentist, even an entry for dinner and drinks with her girlfriends. If she’d run off with a lover there should have been dates listed on the calendar indicating she had a lover.

  Trina didn’t have a boyfriend. When the police interviewed her close friends they’d said she was too focused on her career to date. Surely if she’d had a lover at least one of her friends would have known.

  Fuck!

  Mason rubbed his aching temples. The sound of his aunt’s quiet sobbing and his uncle’s whispered reassurances echoed in his head. Admitting he had no idea what had happened to their daughter had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

>   He stared down at Trina’s picture. She was a real beauty. A younger version of his aunt with platinum-blonde hair and big, expressive blue eyes. She had so much going for her. No way did she simply turn and walk away from it all.

  Running his fingers over the sweet curve of her cheek, he promised, “I’m going to find you.” One way or another, he would figure out what happened and get her back to her parents, even if only to be buried in the family plot. Mason had vowed to bring Trina home. He wouldn’t stop looking until he did.

  He’d felt horrible calling the restaurant to cancel yet another date with Claire. But after watching his uncle coax his aunt into taking anti-anxiety medication just to make it through another night, he’d been a wreck. He couldn’t act as if everything was fine and go on a date with his cousin still missing. Trying to start a new relationship with so much happening had been a bad idea. He’d known it at the time but Claire was irresistible. What rotten timing to find the woman of his dreams while investigating his cousin’s disappearance.

  As early morning light spilled into his office, Laurie walked in with a steaming mug of coffee, which he gratefully accepted. She took in his rumpled appearance, still wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday, and a slight smile tugged at her lips.

  “Your date must have gone really well.” She noticed the open file and her lips turned down. “Or you spent all night searching again.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and tapped her foot in irritation. “Please tell me you didn’t cancel on Claire again.”

  Mason blew a heavy breath across the dark liquid before taking a tentative sip and sighing his appreciation for the strong brew. His silence was answer enough for Laurie.

  “You did,” she accused. “You stood her up again.”

  “Give the man a break,” Cam said as he stepped into the room.

  “Give him a break,” Laurie huffed. “What about Claire? Shouldn’t someone give her a break?”