take three hours on
the treadmill to work off. I come up empty. “It’s OK, Chinese food
isn’t really my thing,” I lie.
Cam gives me a sharp look. “All you do is
eat salad and push food around your plate. Eat a proper dinner for
once. You’ll need the energy,” he adds with a grin.
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are,” Cam insists. He fills a
plate with noodles, dumplings, and garlic chicken, then points to a
chair at the table. “Sit. Eat.”
“Is that an order?” I shoot back, my temper
flaring.
“Yes.”
I gape. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Are you questioning me?” Cam’s gaze turns
steely.
Suddenly, I feel exhausted. Too tired to go
six rounds over a plate of takeout. “Just give me a break, OK? Not
everything has to be a fight.”
“I’m not doing this to pick a fight.” Cam’s
tone softens. “It’s my job to take care of you—even when you don’t
want to take care of yourself.”
I stare at him in disbelief. Is he for
real?
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing
with my life?” I demand, my voice rising angrily. “Hours at the gym
every day, counting every last calorie. Blowouts every week,
highlights every month. I do nothing but take care of this body,
and make sure it’s perfect every single second of every fucking
day!”
Cam blinks, speechless for a moment.
I sink down into a chair. “I take care of
myself,” I repeat grimly.
“No, you don’t.” Cam finally speaks. He
gives me a sympathetic look. “You take care of what other people
want from you. Maybe you don’t need to work so hard,” he adds.
“You’d probably be a lot happier if you gave it all up.”
“Wow,” I roll my eyes. “You really don’t get
it, do you? You wouldn’t think I was still so sexy if I started
porking out on Chinese food all the time and totally let myself
go.”
“Believe me, I would.” Cam gives me a
wolfish look. “Now, my order still stands. You have my permission
to let yourself go.”
I look at the food regretfully. “Great, the
one night I get a pass, and you order Chinese.”
He frowns. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s not my favorite,” I shrug.
“So what would you eat, if you could have
anything in the world?”
I pause. “I’d get a thick, juicy
cheeseburger and fries. The works. With an icy cold beer to wash it
all down.”
Cam looks surprised. “I would have figured
you for more a caviar kind of girl.”
I snort. “That fancy stuff isn’t really my
style. It’s easy to keep to a diet when you’re only served haute
cuisine.” It took a couple of years after joining the Ashcrofts for
my tastes to improve, to learn the difference between Velveeta and
gruyere. The first time they served me a salad made by their
personal chef, I didn’t recognize anything but the lettuce.
My stomach rumbles so loudly that Cam
notices. He laughs. “Grab your coat. I know just the place to
satisfy that craving of yours.”
I glance down at my jeans. “I should change
first.”
“Don’t worry,” Cam grins. “None of your
girlfriends is ever going to see you where we’re going.”
TEN: CAM
I’m breaking my number one rule here—and I
don’t care. I never go out in public with my subs: our relationship
is always hidden, contained in the safety of The Underground club
or my apartment. But here I am, strolling down the street with
Isabelle for anyone to see.
“Should we grab a taxi?” Isabelle looks
around.
“No,” I tell her. “It’s just down the
block.”
As we walk along the sidewalk, I can see her
glance over at me, nervous. “What’s on your mind?” I ask.
“This is our first time out together
since…you know. The contract,” she whispers. “How is this supposed
to go? Do I have to do whatever you tell me, even if people are
watching?”
“Relax,” I reassure her. “I’m not going to
order you around tonight, but in general, the same rules still
apply. You should still obey me, we’ll just be
the treadmill to work off. I come up empty. “It’s OK, Chinese food
isn’t really my thing,” I lie.
Cam gives me a sharp look. “All you do is
eat salad and push food around your plate. Eat a proper dinner for
once. You’ll need the energy,” he adds with a grin.
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Yes, you are,” Cam insists. He fills a
plate with noodles, dumplings, and garlic chicken, then points to a
chair at the table. “Sit. Eat.”
“Is that an order?” I shoot back, my temper
flaring.
“Yes.”
I gape. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Are you questioning me?” Cam’s gaze turns
steely.
Suddenly, I feel exhausted. Too tired to go
six rounds over a plate of takeout. “Just give me a break, OK? Not
everything has to be a fight.”
“I’m not doing this to pick a fight.” Cam’s
tone softens. “It’s my job to take care of you—even when you don’t
want to take care of yourself.”
I stare at him in disbelief. Is he for
real?
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing
with my life?” I demand, my voice rising angrily. “Hours at the gym
every day, counting every last calorie. Blowouts every week,
highlights every month. I do nothing but take care of this body,
and make sure it’s perfect every single second of every fucking
day!”
Cam blinks, speechless for a moment.
I sink down into a chair. “I take care of
myself,” I repeat grimly.
“No, you don’t.” Cam finally speaks. He
gives me a sympathetic look. “You take care of what other people
want from you. Maybe you don’t need to work so hard,” he adds.
“You’d probably be a lot happier if you gave it all up.”
“Wow,” I roll my eyes. “You really don’t get
it, do you? You wouldn’t think I was still so sexy if I started
porking out on Chinese food all the time and totally let myself
go.”
“Believe me, I would.” Cam gives me a
wolfish look. “Now, my order still stands. You have my permission
to let yourself go.”
I look at the food regretfully. “Great, the
one night I get a pass, and you order Chinese.”
He frowns. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s not my favorite,” I shrug.
“So what would you eat, if you could have
anything in the world?”
I pause. “I’d get a thick, juicy
cheeseburger and fries. The works. With an icy cold beer to wash it
all down.”
Cam looks surprised. “I would have figured
you for more a caviar kind of girl.”
I snort. “That fancy stuff isn’t really my
style. It’s easy to keep to a diet when you’re only served haute
cuisine.” It took a couple of years after joining the Ashcrofts for
my tastes to improve, to learn the difference between Velveeta and
gruyere. The first time they served me a salad made by their
personal chef, I didn’t recognize anything but the lettuce.
My stomach rumbles so loudly that Cam
notices. He laughs. “Grab your coat. I know just the place to
satisfy that craving of yours.”
I glance down at my jeans. “I should change
first.”
“Don’t worry,” Cam grins. “None of your
girlfriends is ever going to see you where we’re going.”
TEN: CAM
I’m breaking my number one rule here—and I
don’t care. I never go out in public with my subs: our relationship
is always hidden, contained in the safety of The Underground club
or my apartment. But here I am, strolling down the street with
Isabelle for anyone to see.
“Should we grab a taxi?” Isabelle looks
around.
“No,” I tell her. “It’s just down the
block.”
As we walk along the sidewalk, I can see her
glance over at me, nervous. “What’s on your mind?” I ask.
“This is our first time out together
since…you know. The contract,” she whispers. “How is this supposed
to go? Do I have to do whatever you tell me, even if people are
watching?”
“Relax,” I reassure her. “I’m not going to
order you around tonight, but in general, the same rules still
apply. You should still obey me, we’ll just be
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