Comfort Object (30 page)

“Listen,” he said against my ear. “Let's just keep things simple. Let's just remember I pay you to do as I ask. You obey. If you have a need, a pressing, human need, you let me know. But if you start to obsess over stupid shit and get emotional like you're my girlfriend, then I'm going to let you go. I can't deal with it. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, and truly, I understood every word he spoke. What I didn't understand was the
why
behind it.

“I mean, I thought things were going pretty well,” he said. “I thought you were happy.”

“You pay me to be happy, don't you? So I am.” I felt him go tense under me. I wished I could have taken the words back. I sat up and looked in his eyes.

“Are you happy, Jeremy?”

He glanced away, then back at me. “Tonight? I'm a little stressed.”

“Why are you stressed?” I took his hand in mine, stroking the soft tufts of hair on the back of it with my fingertips.

He shook his head. “I told you. It's not your concern.” He took a deep breath and held my hand tighter. “Relax me. Tell me a story, Nell. Not a story from Eden, one of the stories from those books you always have your nose buried in.”

I laughed. “You must really want me to stop whining, to subject yourself to that.”

“There must be something to them, if you like them so much. Tell me a story. Explain humanity to me.”

I thought for a moment, mentally sorting through the hundreds of tales I loved and remembered.

“Do you know the story of Rhiannon?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”

I smiled and lay back on his shoulder. “Rhiannon was a Celtic goddess. She didn't want to wed the god her parents picked out for her, so instead she married a mortal. A king.”

Jeremy snorted. “She still made out pretty good, then, I guess, for marrying a mortal.”

“Yeah. She had a happy marriage. She and the king had a son and lived for a year in harmony and love. But then the son went missing. The nurses who'd been charged with caring for the son laid the blame for his disappearance on Rhiannon. To back up their claim, the nurses slaughtered a young animal and spread its carcass and bones around and made it look as if Rhiannon murdered and ate her own son.”

“That's disgusting.”

“What's disgusting is that everyone believed it. Because Rhiannon was different, a goddess and not a mortal. They all turned on her and believed the nurses. The king turned his back on his wife and left her trial and punishment to the people. They decreed that she must wear a horse collar and live outside the grounds as a slave, carrying guests back and forth from the gates to the castle.”

“Kinky,” said Jeremy.

“You're a perv. Anyway, Rhiannon didn't fight back or mourn the unfairness of her punishment. She accepted it with the grace of a true queen.”

“Or submissive.”

“Listen, this isn't about BDSM, if you can pull your mind out of the gutter for just a few more minutes.”

Jeremy smiled. “Okay, I'll try, but it won't be easy with you in my lap.”

I sighed as he pulled me closer. I could feel his hard-on rising against my hip. “Through scorching summers and bitterly cold winters, she wore the collar, swearing to anyone who would listen that one day her love and dedication would bring her son home. The same people who condemned her eventually were moved by Rhiannon's courage and dignity, and word of her plight began to spread beyond the castle grounds to the outlying lands.

“One day a nobleman came to the gate holding the hand of a small boy. Rhiannon graciously offered to carry them to the keep. Instead the nobleman placed the boy's hand in hers and said, 'Brave Queen, your son is home.' It turned out the careless nurses had left the son in a field, and the nobleman found him, considered him abandoned, and raised him as his own. The tales of Rhiannon's predicament made him realize whom the boy belonged to. Everyone rejoiced, and Rhiannon was freed from her slavery at last.”

“Are you jealous?” Jeremy asked as I paused. “You'd like to be freed too, wouldn't you?”

“Oh, Jeremy. This story's not about me. The point of Rhiannon's myth is that when she returned to the castle, to her husband and everyone who'd wrongly condemned her, she forgave them all. Forgave every one of them and told her husband she still loved him. She endured the terrible hardships of life with courage and dignity. She's the goddess of being strong.”

“Is she? Is that why you like her so much?”

“I don't like her,” I said. “I actually never would have put up with the crap she did.”

“I could get you a collar, if you like.”

“That was your favorite part of the story, wasn't it?” I sighed. “The only part you actually heard.”

“Yes. Rhiannon, goddess of pony play and enslavement. What other BDSM myths do you know?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help laughing. He grinned back, then stood and threw me over his shoulder. I shrieked and clung to him as he carried me into his room and tossed me on the bed. His libido, his perversity, God, it was ridiculous, but at least I knew I wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Our time in Turkey flew by. I would have liked to stay longer. Turkey was a land steeped in cultural history and mythology. I told Jeremy stories from Turkish and Ottoman mythology every night, Anatolian myths, Nart sagas, all the local mythology I studied and loved.

In return he threw me a huge surprise toga party for my birthday. While he may have missed the bull's-eye, he hit the target just fine. The endearingly fake Greek decor, the “David” waiters, the entire cast and crew of his movie getting wasted in bedsheets. I took it for what it was: a magnanimous gesture of affection and fun. He beamed at me from across the room, looking like a true Greek god in his toga, and more David-like than any of the half-dressed waiters roaming around.

“Having fun?” Jessamine Jackson's deep, sultry voice sounded right beside my ear.

I turned to her with a smile. I'd talked to her on several occasions by now, running into her on the set and so forth, but she was still larger-than-life to me, even in a toga and nothing else.
Especially
in a toga and nothing else.

“Look at Jeremy.” She snorted, waving at him across the restaurant. “He's so proud of himself.”

Jeremy leaned on a balustrade, watching both of us with a meditative smile.

“He just wanted to find a party theme where everyone could wear the least amount of clothing possible.” I laughed.

“That's our Jeremy.”

Our Jeremy?
It didn't surprise me to hear her say that, but it made me jealous. Maybe she only meant it in a friendly sense, but knowing Jeremy as I did…

I looked over at Jessamine again, this time as a rival.

It was hopeless. She was so much more beautiful than me, elegant, confident, strong, graceful. If Jeremy looked at us side by side, it didn't take much intelligence to figure out where I would end up in that comparison. But Jessamine was married. Her husband, Mason Cooke, was a bigger star than Jeremy, and every bit as sexy and hot. She wasn't competition, but I suddenly disliked her all the same.

“I hope you're having a happy birthday.” She smiled.

“Yes, I am.”

“And how are you enjoying the movie-star life?”

“It's…interesting.”

Jessamine laughed, a beautiful, feminine sound. “You can tell me the truth, Nell. I'm in on the game.”

The game? What game was she talking about?
I slid a look at Jeremy.

“Honey, it's okay. I
know
,” she said. “But I'll never tell. Jeremy and I go way back.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, we do. I can tell you whatever you want to know about him too.”

“Really?” My eyes opened wide, considering the possibilities. Jess laughed.

“I know, where to begin with the questions? He's complicated, yes, but there's something you should know. He has a heart of gold, deep down under all that black perversion. He really does, Nell. He'll take care of you.”

“
He'll take care of you
.” When he lets you go and gets another girl. When he pays you off and moves on with his life.

“I have to say,” she said, leaning in, “I like you much more than his last girl. I met her a few times. She was awful. He's so lucky to have found you.”

“I… Yeah…we have good times together,” I said.

“And having you along on these long shoots, it's great for him. And you know, I'll be damned if you haven't changed him. He's happier than I've known him to be in a long time.”

I wanted to seize on her words and save them forever. Happier? Changed? I didn't know how he was before.

“Do you think he likes me?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I was immediately embarrassed. “I mean…not like…you know—”

“Does he like you?” Jessamine turned my head to where he still watched us with a drunk, happy smile. “He hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole evening. And this whole thing with your stalker… He's beside himself. I'm sure he doesn't show you how much he worries over it—”

“What? What stalker?” I looked back at her in alarm.

Jeremy started toward us. Jessamine looked over at him.

“I…um…not stalker. Just something Jeremy and I were joking about. You know, those photogs in Thailand. Ha, that picture—your face. Jeremy!” Jessamine exclaimed as he joined us. “Little Nell here is just so adorable in her toga!”

Jeremy smiled down at me. “Yeah. She's going to wear it later while we have some Greek sex.”

I blushed. I don't know why. If Jessamine knew Jeremy as well as she seemed to, his decidedly perverse tastes would be no surprise to her. She winked at him.