“I punish submissives for evasive answers. I asked you the question because I want to know. What would you wear to my play party?”
There was a fantasy she had. It wasn’t like her and she didn’t think she’d ever do it in real life—but if she ever did act it out, it’d be at Cole’s play party.
“I’ve never done this,” she said, “but I’ve always imagined getting dressed up in black lace lingerie. A bra that gives me cleavage, a thong because when it’s worn just right it keeps you aroused, and garters with sheer stockings just because I’d feel sexy as hell.”
He very nearly growled. “If you dressed like that, I’d send everyone home except you.”
She licked her bottom lip, pleased at the way his eyes followed the path of her tongue. Suddenly, she felt bold. “What would we do all alone in your house, Sir?”
“To start with, I’d give you a tour of the kitchen.”
“Oh?” Her pussy throbbed with need.
“Specifically, the island.”
“Would I need to look at it really closely?”
“If I did my job properly, your eyes wouldn’t be able to focus on much of anything.” He cleared his throat and picked up his menu. “Waitress.”
Like she could focus on anything now. But she picked up the menu and tried her best. She ended up going with a chicken salad. To leave room for ice cream, she explained to Cole.
When the waitress left, Sasha knew she had to change the subject away from Cole and his kitchen island. Besides, she knew so little about his past and this was the perfect opportunity.
“When did you know you wanted to be a journalist?” she asked.
He took a sip of water, keeping his gaze on her while he drank. “I knew when I was eleven.”
“Eleven? That young?”
“I discovered it early. Or maybe better stated, it found me.” He leaned back and settled into the seat. “My parents didn’t have much of a marriage. They only got married in the first place because it was expected of them.”
“An arranged marriage?” Did people still do that?
“Very similar, yes. And by the time I was five, my father decided he’d had enough and ran off with his latest mistress. To get back at him, my mother decided to marry her latest boyfriend. Poor decision on her part. The boyfriend was an arse, and my father didn’t care one way or the other. To make it worse, he had a son my age who was an even bigger arse, and a bully, too.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone would bully you, Sir.”
He snorted. “I’ve changed just a little.”
“Sorry to interrupt. Go on.”
“At first it was little things he’d blame on me: frogs in the pantry, salt in the sugar bowl. Everyone believed him because he was a bloody brilliant student and practically perfect.” He shook his head. “Then one day my mum’s jewelry went missing.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Exactly. And this was no normal jewelry. It was jewelry given to my family in the late fifteenth century. It was almost lost when one of my ancestors pissed off Henry the Eighth—”
“Wait a minute. The Henry the Eighth?”
He laughed softly. “There’s only one, right?”
“Wow.”
“Don’t be too impressed. We lost our title as a result of that, but some quick thinker hid the jewelry. So we held on to it.”
“At least until Asshole Kid showed up.”
“Right, and I decided it was time the world knew his true colors. I did some investigative reporting. Talked to the household help, the neighbors, everyone. A week later I presented my report to my mother.”
“Pretty inventive for an eleven-year-old. What happened?”
“He denied it, of course, but the jewelry showed up the next morning.” He looked past her to something behind her. “Mum knew the truth, though. And I fell in love with writing.”
The waitress delivered their entrees, and they didn’t speak until she left.
“Ever think about writing a novel?” Sasha asked, cutting her salad.
“Of course, but why would I want to make stuff up when real life is so interesting?”
“Real life doesn’t always have a happy ending.”
His smile was gentle. “And you’re a happily ever after kind of girl?”
“I have to believe it’s out there somewhere.”
“I’ve seen a lot of shit in this world. The truth is, happily ever afters aren’t the norm.”
“That’s just sad.”
“It’s realistic.”
“I’m holding out for the fantasy,” she said.
“I wish I had your faith, but I realized the truth a long time ago.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not anyone’s happily ever after.”
• • •
Cole was thankful she didn’t push him on his statement or try to change his mind. After all, Kate, who had been with him for years, left. He knew he wasn’t in a place to be what Sasha needed. Across the table, her face was expressionless as she focused on her salad. For a while they were silent, both trying to enjoy the delicious food. When they started talking again, it was about his recent work in India.
After finishing their entrees, they both agreed they were too full at the moment for ice cream. Sasha suggested walking in the gardens, and he agreed. There had been a certain spark in her eyes earlier when she spoke of the flowers and he wanted to see it again. Though she hadn’t seemed as despondent lately, the times she looked truly alive were still fewer than he liked.
She was animated while they walked. She knew just about every flower, plant, and tree they came upon and seemed thrilled to talk about them. He wished his family still owned his childhood home. There had been a maze in the gardens and Sasha would have loved it.
“Have you always enjoyed flowers and gardening?” he asked. He pointed to a stone bench off to the side of the path. “Want to sit?”
She nodded and sat down beside him. “Julie and I were college roommates. She always talked about opening a shop and eventually sucked me into the business.”
“You didn’t have anything you wanted to do? No big dream?”
She shook her head. “I always sort of just floated from thing to thing. Never really had a big ‘when I grow up’ vision.”
There was a fantasy she had. It wasn’t like her and she didn’t think she’d ever do it in real life—but if she ever did act it out, it’d be at Cole’s play party.
“I’ve never done this,” she said, “but I’ve always imagined getting dressed up in black lace lingerie. A bra that gives me cleavage, a thong because when it’s worn just right it keeps you aroused, and garters with sheer stockings just because I’d feel sexy as hell.”
He very nearly growled. “If you dressed like that, I’d send everyone home except you.”
She licked her bottom lip, pleased at the way his eyes followed the path of her tongue. Suddenly, she felt bold. “What would we do all alone in your house, Sir?”
“To start with, I’d give you a tour of the kitchen.”
“Oh?” Her pussy throbbed with need.
“Specifically, the island.”
“Would I need to look at it really closely?”
“If I did my job properly, your eyes wouldn’t be able to focus on much of anything.” He cleared his throat and picked up his menu. “Waitress.”
Like she could focus on anything now. But she picked up the menu and tried her best. She ended up going with a chicken salad. To leave room for ice cream, she explained to Cole.
When the waitress left, Sasha knew she had to change the subject away from Cole and his kitchen island. Besides, she knew so little about his past and this was the perfect opportunity.
“When did you know you wanted to be a journalist?” she asked.
He took a sip of water, keeping his gaze on her while he drank. “I knew when I was eleven.”
“Eleven? That young?”
“I discovered it early. Or maybe better stated, it found me.” He leaned back and settled into the seat. “My parents didn’t have much of a marriage. They only got married in the first place because it was expected of them.”
“An arranged marriage?” Did people still do that?
“Very similar, yes. And by the time I was five, my father decided he’d had enough and ran off with his latest mistress. To get back at him, my mother decided to marry her latest boyfriend. Poor decision on her part. The boyfriend was an arse, and my father didn’t care one way or the other. To make it worse, he had a son my age who was an even bigger arse, and a bully, too.”
“I find it hard to believe anyone would bully you, Sir.”
He snorted. “I’ve changed just a little.”
“Sorry to interrupt. Go on.”
“At first it was little things he’d blame on me: frogs in the pantry, salt in the sugar bowl. Everyone believed him because he was a bloody brilliant student and practically perfect.” He shook his head. “Then one day my mum’s jewelry went missing.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Exactly. And this was no normal jewelry. It was jewelry given to my family in the late fifteenth century. It was almost lost when one of my ancestors pissed off Henry the Eighth—”
“Wait a minute. The Henry the Eighth?”
He laughed softly. “There’s only one, right?”
“Wow.”
“Don’t be too impressed. We lost our title as a result of that, but some quick thinker hid the jewelry. So we held on to it.”
“At least until Asshole Kid showed up.”
“Right, and I decided it was time the world knew his true colors. I did some investigative reporting. Talked to the household help, the neighbors, everyone. A week later I presented my report to my mother.”
“Pretty inventive for an eleven-year-old. What happened?”
“He denied it, of course, but the jewelry showed up the next morning.” He looked past her to something behind her. “Mum knew the truth, though. And I fell in love with writing.”
The waitress delivered their entrees, and they didn’t speak until she left.
“Ever think about writing a novel?” Sasha asked, cutting her salad.
“Of course, but why would I want to make stuff up when real life is so interesting?”
“Real life doesn’t always have a happy ending.”
His smile was gentle. “And you’re a happily ever after kind of girl?”
“I have to believe it’s out there somewhere.”
“I’ve seen a lot of shit in this world. The truth is, happily ever afters aren’t the norm.”
“That’s just sad.”
“It’s realistic.”
“I’m holding out for the fantasy,” she said.
“I wish I had your faith, but I realized the truth a long time ago.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not anyone’s happily ever after.”
• • •
Cole was thankful she didn’t push him on his statement or try to change his mind. After all, Kate, who had been with him for years, left. He knew he wasn’t in a place to be what Sasha needed. Across the table, her face was expressionless as she focused on her salad. For a while they were silent, both trying to enjoy the delicious food. When they started talking again, it was about his recent work in India.
After finishing their entrees, they both agreed they were too full at the moment for ice cream. Sasha suggested walking in the gardens, and he agreed. There had been a certain spark in her eyes earlier when she spoke of the flowers and he wanted to see it again. Though she hadn’t seemed as despondent lately, the times she looked truly alive were still fewer than he liked.
She was animated while they walked. She knew just about every flower, plant, and tree they came upon and seemed thrilled to talk about them. He wished his family still owned his childhood home. There had been a maze in the gardens and Sasha would have loved it.
“Have you always enjoyed flowers and gardening?” he asked. He pointed to a stone bench off to the side of the path. “Want to sit?”
She nodded and sat down beside him. “Julie and I were college roommates. She always talked about opening a shop and eventually sucked me into the business.”
“You didn’t have anything you wanted to do? No big dream?”
She shook her head. “I always sort of just floated from thing to thing. Never really had a big ‘when I grow up’ vision.”
