Bound (Forbidden Series - Book 1) (17 page)

              Two nights!

             
That’s how much time she had remaining with this man. Only two more nights. Jewell knew that she shouldn’t be elated, filled with a sense of euphoria — after all, it wasn’t as if freedom awaited her. She’d have to go back to Relinquish Control, and who knew what sort of man Blake’s successor would be? She’d really meant to give this all up, but getting custody of Justin would be so much easier if she had more money. And as he’d made her realize, she really was just a whore.

             
But there was no reason for her to be standing in the shower feeling almost as if doom were hanging over her head. Something more had to be going on with her.

             
No, she wasn’t falling in love with Blake. That would be impossible. He’d barely shown her
any
kindness. Yes, he’d held her close after the plane nearly crashed — though he insisted he’d had it under control — and at other times, she’d seen small moments of softness in him, but not nearly enough.

             
No. If anything, any time he showed the barest amount of humanity, he would quickly mask it by letting the dominant, controlling part of his personality take over. She still felt dirty after their “tryst” at the winery. He’d taken his pleasure within her against a wine barrel, and he’d done it in total silence.

             
So she
was
relieved to be leaving him. She just wasn’t relieved to be going back to the cold building where the next man would choose her as if she were nothing more than a piece of cattle up for sale. That had to be the source of the doom.

             
After taking her time in the shower, she took even more time getting ready for the evening. This was no stay-at-home evening of TV or kinky sex. Tonight she had to go to a fundraising dinner with Blake, and the whole idea had put her stomach in a constant state of upheaval.

             
Jewell was about to enter a world she’d only read about. Her mother had provided a good and safe home, but they’d lived on the lower end of the middle-class spectrum. The only fundraisers they’d attended were small-potatoes affairs at her public school. This fundraiser would pull in millions of dollars.

             
Would she pass inspection when Blake came to pick her up? The mirror gave her no answers. The dress that had been tailored specifically for her was exquisite, fitting her like a glove, and in every respect far more beautiful than anything she’d ever imagined wearing. She liked it, and she would have to remember to thank him. She hoped no one would look at her and know exactly what she was, and exactly how out of place she was.

             
The waiting was making things worse.

             
His week off, thankfully, wasn’t a true week off. Yes, he was taking her out some in the day, but his phone constantly rang, and he was leaving often after that, even if there was an irritated scowl on his forehead as he walked out the door. And she’d seen no more of his texting, no more sign that he had those freaking cameras on. He’d clearly grown tired of watching her, and she really couldn’t complain.

             
She had to admit that Blake had an incredible work ethic. And it wasn’t just for clients with megabucks, or from behind a desk. She’d watched him sweat away up on Bill’s roof, his button-down shirt thrown off, his expensive slacks ruined, and he’d looked like he was meant to hold a hammer.

             
She knew that all the Knight brothers had started out on job sites before they created their own company, a business so successful that none of them should ever feel the need to do manual labor again. It showed their character that they could roll up their sleeves and help a friend, and she didn’t want to be impressed, but she was. How many other billionaires were willing to climb up on a roof for a man they loved and respected? But the way Blake treated her also showed his character, and it
wasn’t
something that anyone could brag about.

             
Yes, it was for the best that her time with Blake was nearly over. She’d had this suspicion before, and it kept growing stronger — if she were with him much longer, she’d be helpless to resist needing his attention. Those glimpses she had of vulnerability within him were trying to break through to her heart, and the sex — oh my, the sex. It was incredible.

             
It was funny how things had turned out. Well…maybe not exactly funny. Blake wasn’t a man a woman stayed with. She felt that maybe she had a touch of Stockholm syndrome. Since she was tied to Blake, she felt she needed to be with him. Yet how could she feel that way when he could be so absolutely horrible to her? Her mother hadn’t raised any masochists.

             
Jewell thought back to when she was fifteen and had fallen in love for the first time. What a disaster — she’d seen the boy kissing her mortal enemy behind the bleachers, and she’d come home in tears. Her mother had consoled her, and told her that it sometimes took a little while to find “the one,” but that she’d someday find him. The man she would marry had to be her best friend, had to be her lover, and had to be the person she trusted above all others.
Never settle
, her mom said.
Ask for the moon and don’t take less.

             
Jewell had never found a man who fit that description.

             
Instead, she’d found Blake Knight, who most certainly was none of those things. And especially not the man she’d marry — if she ever did. Yes, he was a virtuoso lover — perhaps she should use the adjective
masterful
— but he’d never offer her the moon or the stars. That just wasn’t who he was. Besides, she had her brother to think about; to think of her own needs was selfish.

             
She finally went down the stairs. Was she supposed to wait for him in the living room or meet him in the lobby? She didn’t know why they hadn’t planned this a little better.

             
Going over to get her phone — once again, she’d forgotten to keep it with her — she saw several messages and grimaced. So she’d been wrong, at least, about the texting. He might be tired of watching her, but not of controlling her.

             
My driver will pick you up.

             
Where are you?

             
Max is waiting in the lobby.

             
Jewell!

             
She smiled at that last message, practically hearing the growl in his voice. It had come in ten minutes earlier. She was surprised he hadn’t added a dozen more to it. His driver was early, dang it, so it wasn’t her fault if he was kept waiting.

             
On my way down now. Was getting ready.

             
After hitting Send, she tucked the phone into her purse and did a final check in the grand mirror in the entry before she walked out the door. When she reached the lobby, she saw Max waiting and she instantly tensed. She’d almost forgotten that he knew exactly who and what she was, and it wasn’t a perfect way for her to start out her big evening.

             
He hadn’t spoken to her the other day when going to the winery. She hadn’t been alone with him since that ride last Monday as a matter of fact. This would be too similar to that horrible ride with just the two of them, and she didn’t need that reminder right now while she was on her way to a social even with people with more money than anyone needed.

             
She was already uncomfortable about going to the wretched event, and now she had to ride there with a man who most certainly looked down upon her. But since there was nothing she could do about it, she held her head high as she approached him.

             
“Good evening, Ms. Weston,” Max said.

             
His slight smile shocked her.

             
“Good evening, Max. I’m sorry to keep you out so late.”

             
They left the building and he opened the car door for her. She was glad the car was parked at the curb — she didn’t think she could have borne going all the way down the elevator with him and then through the parking garage.

             
“I work all hours. It’s no trouble at all,” he replied.

             
She didn’t say anything else as she climbed in and got comfortable. When Max pulled into traffic, Jewell forced herself to clear her mind of all fears. Yes, she was rubbing her skin raw as she twisted her fingers together, but that was stupid. She had no choice but to go to the fundraiser, so what good did worrying really do her? None. In fact, it was a
party
, and she might as well try to enjoy it. That was possible, wasn’t it? Okay, probably not.

             
They arrived much sooner than she was prepared for, and she shuddered when Max helped her out of the car. And then it got worse. She looked around, but there was no sign at all of Blake, which meant she was faced with walking in alone. Would they let her in? She had nothing to show the men at the doors, nothing to prove that she was supposed to be there. What would she do if they sent her away? Her “date” — that made her smile, almost — could have had the decency to meet her at the car, at the very least.

             
Sighing, she forced herself forward. When did Blake ever act the gentleman? Pretty much never. She approached two men in tuxes who were guarding the entrance of this fancy hotel, and they didn’t even try to smile.

             
“Invitation?” one asked.

             
“I…uh…I don’t have one. I’m here with someone,” she said and the answering look in his eyes clearly said he didn’t believe her.

             
Before she could speak again, Max stepped up next to her. “She is here with Blake Knight.”

             
The man’s attitude changed instantly, and he held the door open for her. “I apologize, Ms. Weston. He’s waiting for you inside.”

             
Wow! Jewell couldn’t imagine what it would be like to possess that much power with nothing but a name. She had refrained from sneaking into Blake’s computer to run a Web search on his name, but maybe she would try to find out all she could after she was free of him.

             
Then again, maybe she wouldn’t. Once their time was over, it would be best for her to forget all about the man, to forget all about their time together.

             
After stepping through the front doors of the hotel and being escorted to the site of the fundraiser, Jewell was taken aback by the luxury before her. Sparkling light fixtures hung throughout the room, and the round tables were set expertly with the finest china, crystal, and what she was sure was real silver. These people clearly didn’t worry about thieves — they probably didn’t have to.

             
Waiters moved silently through the room, making sure that everyone had a fresh drink, which couldn’t be easy task — the crowd was much larger than she had expected. How was she ever going to find Blake in this throng of people?

             
When a woman’s tinkling laughter drifted toward her, she looked toward the sound, and then felt her stomach take an instant dip. Finding Blake hadn’t been so difficult after all. She just hadn’t expected to find him with a woman clinging to his side. It didn’t matter to her, of course. But why in the world would he ask her to get all dressed up for this glittering event just to leave her standing there alone, looking like a fool?

             
As if he could sense her presence, he turned his head in her direction, and their eyes collided from across the room. She must have still been frowning, because the smile on his face vanished and his eyebrows rose quizzically, and then he held out his hand and gestured for her to join him. But that woman stayed right there with him.

             
It wasn’t awkward enough for her, no doubt, so he had to throw another woman right down her throat. But who cared, right? She was just his weeklong fling. After the week was over, she would go on to the next man, and then the next, until she had enough saved to ensure her brother could come and live with her.

             
That thought stopped her in her tracks. Relinquish Control wasn’t a cheap place to find an escort. What if the next man attended the same parties that Blake did? How awkward would that be?

             
As if the thought had magically summoned unwanted people, a man bumped into her, and when he quickly turned to apologize, he stopped and stared, his words trapped in his throat.

             
“Um…excuse me,” Jewell finally said, and she tried to brush past him.

             
He took hold of her arm to keep her there. “Your name is Jewell, right?”

             
She gulped. This was
so
not good. She’d seen this man at the agency only a day before Blake had arrived. He’d come and spoken to her, but when Ms. Beaumont had told him that she wasn’t quite ready yet, he’d winked and promised to be back as soon as she was available for purchase.