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The Billionare's Pretend Wife Over me
Before heading out of town, Richard took me to Alinea, the restaurant where we first signed our Elements of Engagement contract. For the occasion, I wore a green sundress with a matching pair of Carlos Santana high heels. Because of the heat, I put my hair up. I also wore the diamond-studded collar. Richard ordered for us under candlelight. We had come a long way together. I was grateful for the many things he had helped me overcome. I was glad we had worked together to solve the crimes and glad that Kanji and Travis had been caught. And in the end, we had stood beside each other in our hours of need. I looked around the room. The streamlined décor, marble tabletops, and half-moon wall sconces accented posh elegance. Well-dressed patrons were scattered around the room. At the table next to ours, a woman wore a black silk top and more diamonds than I’d seen in most jewelry store windows. Businessmen in Italian leather shoes strolled to the bar and a trio of celebrity pro basketball p
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Here
Erik drove north out of the Chicago city limits toward Lake Forest. Rain drummed on the roof of the car as we rode in silence, leaving behind Chicago and the murders; the law firm of Dorman, Wallace, and Edwards; and my friends. My support system. There was a sense of finality to that chapter of my life as a new chapter commenced. The changing landscape as we drove reflected the internal changes in me. Skyscrapers shrank into the distance. Large office complexes grew fewer and more scattered. Trees popped up and then groves of trees. Here, it was more heavily forested, lush and green, especially now in midsummer. Here, the foliage swallowed small buildings whole. This part of the state reminded me of my childhood, of family, of lakes in Wisconsin. Here, I was returning to my roots. Richard lived on Murray Lane, and it didn’t go unnoticed by me that Murray was the last name of Ms. Thena Murray of Bram Stoker’s Dracula before she married Jonathan Harker. Is that a coincidence or fat
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Done
For the rest of the week we dined in the candlelit dining room overlooking the lake. Grant, Richard’s chef and only household staff, prepared salmon, and other treats with roasted vegetables on the grill, salads with fresh farmers’ market greens and bakery bread. Tonight, we sat on a beach-sized folded towel on the damp porch swing. Richard kept his hands in his lap. It had finally stopped raining, and stars popped out in the sky. The humidity dissolved, and the air smelled of wet vegetation.“Is everything all right?” I asked.“Do you remember the night I gave you the diamond collar?”I did. He’d asked me to wear it at dinner and said there would be consequences if I did not. I leaned over and kissed him. “Yes.”“Why didn’t you wear it tonight?” I shrugged. “I thought you may have tired of it.” Tonight I had deliberately removed the collar. I had to see if he would notice. I longed for the consequences.“I haven’t.”He looked down at his burnt-orange wingtips. His dark orange shirt
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Smile
As a child, my pretend play always involved someone being captured and tied up. Held indefinitely against her will, she was rarely rescued. If she did get free, the bad guy always found her and tied her up again. I liked being tied up. It gave me more freedom, if that’s possible, to be myself. To be erotic and sexy. I liked the intense feeling of spanking, whipping, paddling, and caning. In fact, I preferred that kind of pain to any mental pain and angst, real or imagined. Yes, the world was a crazy place. But I had finally found a way to fit into it. I had never intended to date my client. Rule number one was that I don’t date clients. Ever. Only now could I explain my inability to stick to that rule: I may not have been the one in control.After last night, Richard left me to think things over. Alone. He went to another part of the house—perhaps to his vampire coffin in the basement, I thought with a smile—and I opened up my laptop for answers. Overnight, I’d looked up similar cont
The Billionare's Pretend Wife The door
Almost two weeks after Travis attacked me, I dreamed about tombstoning. Determined to dive, I made my way forward in a densely overgrown forest. I could barely make out leaves and branches in the dark. I had to get to the cliff before dawn and the sky was lightening. Time was running out. Branches and brush scraped my arms and legs. I climbed as quickly as I could. Yet the faster I moved, the heavier my arms became. My legs grew stiff, and my feet stuck to the ground. Slowly, slowly, I pushed the last branch aside to reveal the cliff’s edge. On the horizon, black water met dark orange sky. I crawled toward the edge, aware that I was not alone. Children’s voices—screams—came from nearby. I looked behind me and side to side. No, the voices were coming from below. Lying on my belly, I peered over the cliff and looked down. Three young girls stood on a ledge ten or twenty feet below. The youngest who was about twelve screamed. She seemed terrified. The other two consoled her, and I judg
The Billionare's Pretend Wife The sea
ONE YEAR AGO:From heights of sixty to eighty feet, it takes up to three and a half seconds to hit the water. In that brief moment of time, a thousand thoughts, images, or feelings rush through my mind. Sometimes during the fall, I’d worry I’d forgotten how. The air would rush past my body, but I’d keep my eye on the landing—growing closer each fraction of a second—as I’d tuck and somersault or straighten into an arrow. With three seconds to freefall, you enter at such a force that if any part of your body is out of line, it will break. But I’d trained for this. My body knew exactly what to do. When I hit the water, profound silence—as near to death as I could imagine—allowed me to forget what I’d done.I had a suitcase packed and ready under the defense table in the courtroom. The prosecutor Aaron Stroheim and I gave our closing speeches, and the jurors filed out to deliberate. They didn’t take long to come up with a verdict, my case was solid. My client was acquitted. As soon as th
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Dark
The orange Chicago skyline glowed like fires burning in the distance. The sun hadn’t yet gone down on the sizzling summer evening. In Richard Mackenzie’s Lake Forest mansion, I closed the floor-to-ceiling curtains of the luxurious first-floor bedroom windows then lit two candles. I dabbed on tinted lip-gloss and stripped off every bit of clothing, then fastened tightly around my neck the diamond-studded collar that Richard, my lover, had given me weeks ago. Earlier, I’d printed out the document written by Richard: the Elements of Submission contract which described the relationship I was about to dive into with him. I’d taken two days to read it. Two days to read my lover. The contract outlined consensual sex play between a dominant and submissive. It listed sadistic pleasures to be given or received, including the acts of piercing and tattooing, caning, and nipple torture. Invasive devices—gags and anal plugs—were among the toys listed in the contract. Richard asked me to check off
The Billionare's Pretend Wife Deep
Not a deep sleeper like me, Richard didn’t stay in bed long. He eased under the covers and curled around me in the middle of the night, then he was up again at the crack of dawn. My bedroom at his mansion was just for me. He had another somewhere upstairs—I hadn’t seen it yet—where he did private things, collected his thoughts, and dressed in his beautifully cut suits and jackets, dark jewel-toned shirts with cufflinks, and high-priced Italian leather shoes. Used to living alone, I didn’t mind the privacy. I slid my arms and legs into a pair of black-satin pajamas. I splashed water on my face and gave my long oak-brown hair a brush. Then I dabbed on lip gloss and went to the kitchen in search of coffee.Grant, Richard’s cook, and casual butler was preparing a meal that filled the house with tempting aromas. He stopped what he was doing to smile at me. With a style all his own, he wore a black apron over orange slacks and a red button-up shirt with a bowtie. “I made a fresh pot of co
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