Marie Gordon!”
“It’s Chance, Mom. Chance. Not Cynthia. You should know, you signed my birth certificate. If you hated it that much, you should never have agreed to it.” She took a slow breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her mother opened her mouth to protest, but Chance beat her to it. “And I swear, Mom, if you pull this again tomorrow with Landry, we’re done.”
Her mother closed her mouth, schooling her face into a look of indifference. “Fine.”
“Fine. And good night.”
Chance walked away, wishing it were as easy to walk away from their expectations as it was to leave a single conversation.
As it was, she’d pay for it tomorrow. Her mother would never let it slide.
Chance walked home barely seeing her surroundings. She was angry, angry at her family, angry at herself. This was her territory, her life. She’d left Michigan to get away from the ridiculous attitudes her mother propagated.
After unlocking the door to her apartment, Chance dropped her keys on a side table and stepped inside. Part of her wanted to call Landry. She wanted to beat someone, and badly. But taking her anger out on a sub was a huge no. Adrian would kill her for it, and she’d be pissed at herself when she finally calmed down. Besides that, she’d had a chance to look over Landry’s questionnaire, and pain wasn’t really his thing—he wanted order and discipline; he needed to please. Most of the time, pain wasn’t her thing either.
She took a deep breath. The alternative was obvious. Chance poured herself a glass of the shiraz Adrian had sent over as a welcome home gift, and headed straight for the bathroom. She was going to light a few dozen candles, have a nice long soak, sip her wine and dig into a book.
And God help anyone who disturbed her.
* * * * *
Chance was settling into the scalding water when her phone chirped an incoming message. She scowled at the table beside her tub, debating whether or not to answer. Or even bother seeing who it was. It chirped again while she waffled. Wrinkling her nose, she reached out for it, pleasantly surprised to see the text was from Landry.
Off duty for the night and checking in, Mistress.
A smile slowly spread across her face. Few things put her in a good mood like being called Mistress. There was power in that single word, and she loved it. She swiped her phone screen to reply and changed her mind at the last minute, calling him instead.
“Mistress Chance?”
“Landry Boudreaux.” She swirled the water with her foot, already in a better mood for hearing his voice.
Now what’s that all about?
She shoved the question away. “How was your day, trainee?”
“Full of reservists. How was yours?”
Chance leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and sighed. “My family made it to town. They insisted I come to dinner, where Belinda and Mom gave me the third degree. And then Mom started in about how it’s high time I was married, and I lost it.”
“Mais, you didn’t pull out a flogger and start beating them all in the middle of the restaurant, did you?”
Chance laughed. “No, but I almost wish I had. God, the looks that would’ve caused.” She shook her head and let out a slow breath. “I yelled and stormed out. Classic avoidance, though at least I made it clear how tired I am of it. But that reminds me, much as I hate going back for more, are you still available for lunch tomorrow?”
“I don’t go back on my word. I’ll be there. Though if you’ll forgive my saying so, you could simply tell them. Maybe then at least the marriage talk would stop.”
She sighed. “Possibly. And possibly it would only cause more problems. Heaven knows why you agreed to this. You sure you’re not a masochist?”
Landry laughed, and she shivered at the smooth timbre of his voice. “Just a sucker for following orders. And beautiful women issuing orders.”
“You are indeed, Sergeant.” She twirled a
“It’s Chance, Mom. Chance. Not Cynthia. You should know, you signed my birth certificate. If you hated it that much, you should never have agreed to it.” She took a slow breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her mother opened her mouth to protest, but Chance beat her to it. “And I swear, Mom, if you pull this again tomorrow with Landry, we’re done.”
Her mother closed her mouth, schooling her face into a look of indifference. “Fine.”
“Fine. And good night.”
Chance walked away, wishing it were as easy to walk away from their expectations as it was to leave a single conversation.
As it was, she’d pay for it tomorrow. Her mother would never let it slide.
Chance walked home barely seeing her surroundings. She was angry, angry at her family, angry at herself. This was her territory, her life. She’d left Michigan to get away from the ridiculous attitudes her mother propagated.
After unlocking the door to her apartment, Chance dropped her keys on a side table and stepped inside. Part of her wanted to call Landry. She wanted to beat someone, and badly. But taking her anger out on a sub was a huge no. Adrian would kill her for it, and she’d be pissed at herself when she finally calmed down. Besides that, she’d had a chance to look over Landry’s questionnaire, and pain wasn’t really his thing—he wanted order and discipline; he needed to please. Most of the time, pain wasn’t her thing either.
She took a deep breath. The alternative was obvious. Chance poured herself a glass of the shiraz Adrian had sent over as a welcome home gift, and headed straight for the bathroom. She was going to light a few dozen candles, have a nice long soak, sip her wine and dig into a book.
And God help anyone who disturbed her.
* * * * *
Chance was settling into the scalding water when her phone chirped an incoming message. She scowled at the table beside her tub, debating whether or not to answer. Or even bother seeing who it was. It chirped again while she waffled. Wrinkling her nose, she reached out for it, pleasantly surprised to see the text was from Landry.
Off duty for the night and checking in, Mistress.
A smile slowly spread across her face. Few things put her in a good mood like being called Mistress. There was power in that single word, and she loved it. She swiped her phone screen to reply and changed her mind at the last minute, calling him instead.
“Mistress Chance?”
“Landry Boudreaux.” She swirled the water with her foot, already in a better mood for hearing his voice.
Now what’s that all about?
She shoved the question away. “How was your day, trainee?”
“Full of reservists. How was yours?”
Chance leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and sighed. “My family made it to town. They insisted I come to dinner, where Belinda and Mom gave me the third degree. And then Mom started in about how it’s high time I was married, and I lost it.”
“Mais, you didn’t pull out a flogger and start beating them all in the middle of the restaurant, did you?”
Chance laughed. “No, but I almost wish I had. God, the looks that would’ve caused.” She shook her head and let out a slow breath. “I yelled and stormed out. Classic avoidance, though at least I made it clear how tired I am of it. But that reminds me, much as I hate going back for more, are you still available for lunch tomorrow?”
“I don’t go back on my word. I’ll be there. Though if you’ll forgive my saying so, you could simply tell them. Maybe then at least the marriage talk would stop.”
She sighed. “Possibly. And possibly it would only cause more problems. Heaven knows why you agreed to this. You sure you’re not a masochist?”
Landry laughed, and she shivered at the smooth timbre of his voice. “Just a sucker for following orders. And beautiful women issuing orders.”
“You are indeed, Sergeant.” She twirled a
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