everyone.”
I edged toward the door, heart in my throat. What had I gotten myself into? Sex and blood were one thing, whips and chains something else entirely.
Seeing my panic, Kristos held his hands up and open as if to show he was harmless. “Myra, this is nothing to be afraid of.”
I continued to edge away from him and the room until I stood on the threshold. Kristos followed me, matching my slow pace, his blue eyes locked with mine.
“Have I acted without honor at any time since we’ve met?” He asked, his gaze hardening.
I shook my head. “No.” Quite the opposite in fact.
“That is not about to change. Now come, I am sure you have questions and I would prefer to answer them elsewhere.” He held out a hand.
For a long moment I hesitated, but then remembering my mother, I took it. Kristos hadn’t hurt me. He’d been nothing but kind and there was no reason for me to run screaming, even if his home was equipped for the Inquisition.
He led me out of the room, shutting the doors after us and escorted me to the dining room. Candles gleamed in the center of the table, highlighting a vase of red roses and a plate heaped with what appeared to be roast chicken and mashed potatoes. A bottle of wine waited in a silver ice bucket. Despite my frequent raids on his fridge, my stomach growled.
He smiled at the sound. “Are you always hungry or do you just never eat?”
“Since I eat, I guess the answer is I’m always hungry.” I slid into the chair as he pulled it out for me. “At least tonight, I have underwear.”
“I’m not sure that’s an improvement.” He settled into his seat where the setting consisted only of a wine glass. Pouring the wine, he said, “Underwear makes it difficult to top your entrance last night.”
“You may enjoy my humiliation, but I don’t.” I sipped my wine, relishing its fruity tang.
He paused, glass halfway to his mouth. “You misunderstand. Women have thrown themselves at me in a predictable fashion for centuries to the point where it’s dull. You were different and I like new things.”
“Is that how you picked up your little torture hobby?” I immediately wanted to take the words back. Kristos was a client, someone I needed to impress, not snark on. What was with all the flippant comments? Get a grip Myra , I ordered myself. Mind your manners.
His jaw clenched and his expression grew stern. “First, this is not my private home. It's owned by my company and is used by multiple people. It's furnished to satisfy more than just my needs. Second, you have no idea how good a whip can feel. Third, other than an open mind, I will never require something from you that you aren’t willing to give.”
I bit my lip and focused on my plate, the aroma of perfectly roasted chicken suddenly failing to entice my appetite. He was mad and it was my fault. “I’m sorry. It’s just one of Madame Rouge’s people had a bad experience there.”
“You aren’t them and I am not Ivan.”
“Ivan?” I furrowed my brow, unfamiliar with the name.
“One of my associates. He’s no longer with the company.” He shifted in his seat, reaching for the wine bottle to top off our glasses. “Let’s change the subject. I understand you’re in college. What major?”
“Business.” Although the world of textbooks and professors felt like it was a different dimension given my current circumstances.
That made him smile. “You want to be a CEO when you grow up?”
I shook my head and cut up my chicken. “No. I’m more interested in entrepreneurship and small start-ups.”
He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, curious. “Ah, you have a business idea?”
“A few,” I hedged. My appetite resurfaced and I began to eat. The succulent chicken and gravy filled me with the warmth of comfort food.
He smiled at me over his wine glass. “You’re smart to be careful with your intellectual property.”
“Thanks. Speaking of business, what does your company do?”
"I'm the
I edged toward the door, heart in my throat. What had I gotten myself into? Sex and blood were one thing, whips and chains something else entirely.
Seeing my panic, Kristos held his hands up and open as if to show he was harmless. “Myra, this is nothing to be afraid of.”
I continued to edge away from him and the room until I stood on the threshold. Kristos followed me, matching my slow pace, his blue eyes locked with mine.
“Have I acted without honor at any time since we’ve met?” He asked, his gaze hardening.
I shook my head. “No.” Quite the opposite in fact.
“That is not about to change. Now come, I am sure you have questions and I would prefer to answer them elsewhere.” He held out a hand.
For a long moment I hesitated, but then remembering my mother, I took it. Kristos hadn’t hurt me. He’d been nothing but kind and there was no reason for me to run screaming, even if his home was equipped for the Inquisition.
He led me out of the room, shutting the doors after us and escorted me to the dining room. Candles gleamed in the center of the table, highlighting a vase of red roses and a plate heaped with what appeared to be roast chicken and mashed potatoes. A bottle of wine waited in a silver ice bucket. Despite my frequent raids on his fridge, my stomach growled.
He smiled at the sound. “Are you always hungry or do you just never eat?”
“Since I eat, I guess the answer is I’m always hungry.” I slid into the chair as he pulled it out for me. “At least tonight, I have underwear.”
“I’m not sure that’s an improvement.” He settled into his seat where the setting consisted only of a wine glass. Pouring the wine, he said, “Underwear makes it difficult to top your entrance last night.”
“You may enjoy my humiliation, but I don’t.” I sipped my wine, relishing its fruity tang.
He paused, glass halfway to his mouth. “You misunderstand. Women have thrown themselves at me in a predictable fashion for centuries to the point where it’s dull. You were different and I like new things.”
“Is that how you picked up your little torture hobby?” I immediately wanted to take the words back. Kristos was a client, someone I needed to impress, not snark on. What was with all the flippant comments? Get a grip Myra , I ordered myself. Mind your manners.
His jaw clenched and his expression grew stern. “First, this is not my private home. It's owned by my company and is used by multiple people. It's furnished to satisfy more than just my needs. Second, you have no idea how good a whip can feel. Third, other than an open mind, I will never require something from you that you aren’t willing to give.”
I bit my lip and focused on my plate, the aroma of perfectly roasted chicken suddenly failing to entice my appetite. He was mad and it was my fault. “I’m sorry. It’s just one of Madame Rouge’s people had a bad experience there.”
“You aren’t them and I am not Ivan.”
“Ivan?” I furrowed my brow, unfamiliar with the name.
“One of my associates. He’s no longer with the company.” He shifted in his seat, reaching for the wine bottle to top off our glasses. “Let’s change the subject. I understand you’re in college. What major?”
“Business.” Although the world of textbooks and professors felt like it was a different dimension given my current circumstances.
That made him smile. “You want to be a CEO when you grow up?”
I shook my head and cut up my chicken. “No. I’m more interested in entrepreneurship and small start-ups.”
He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, curious. “Ah, you have a business idea?”
“A few,” I hedged. My appetite resurfaced and I began to eat. The succulent chicken and gravy filled me with the warmth of comfort food.
He smiled at me over his wine glass. “You’re smart to be careful with your intellectual property.”
“Thanks. Speaking of business, what does your company do?”
"I'm the
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