Run to Him: The Full Novel: A Domination/Submission Alpha Male Billionaire Suspenseful Romance (The Billionaire's Beck and Call Book 4) (2 page)

Or at least we did until that damn masquerade ball when it all came tumbling down. When he set up that dangerous little game of his, both of us masked and hiding from one another in the crowd… Both of us following other people on the dance floor, thinking we were with our lovers, until it was too late. Until things got out of hand, and a man I thought was Max took me—came inside of me—in that darkened parlor.

The memory of his face, my beautiful Max’s face when the shock and heartbreak washed over him, the rage… it haunted me, even now. And even now, it made my blood boil.

Who was he, to put the blame solely on me, when it was
his
idea to play that idiotic game in the first place? When he was dancing and flirting, and God-knows-what with another woman? When he could have slipped just as easily as I did, fucking some stranger in the dark…

I could still remember the way the other man felt against me, the way he held me tight and took me like a wild man. The urgency, the need, as he buried himself deep inside of me, ravaging me like he owned me. Like I was his property, even though he didn’t even know my name.

The memory of me cumming around him, of feeling him cum with me, his breath hot on my neck, made me shiver. I wanted a shower just thinking about it, even though I could feel myself getting wet at the same time, imagining the way he used me.

God, I was one sick puppy.

If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. Anything to keep from hurting Mr. Pierce, even now. Even after the way he treated me. The way he cut me loose as if I meant nothing to him.

The memory of his voice when he found me there, still entwined with that stranger, echoed in my mind, the hurt in it chilling me to the core.

“I thought you knew me better than this, Lucy!”

I winced as I remembered what I said to him. The way I flung the words at him like weapons.

“And I thought you had things under control.”

How could we have let this happen? How could I have let my guard down like that, and let some stranger take me? Use me?

How could I have trusted that Max had everything together? That someone like him would have thought of all the ways that night could go wrong? That he would keep me safe when I submitted to him in that way?

That he would love me, even if I made a mistake…

“Get it together, Lucy,” I said out loud. “Walk in there with your head held high.”

I blew my nose once for good measure and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. I smoothed down my pencil skirt and felt an ache in my chest as I realized it was one of the ones
he
bought me. All of my work clothes were.

That was part of my contract after all: wearing the uniform he decided upon, both in and out of the office…

I pinched the top of my nose, trying to rub away the headache beginning to thud just behind my eyes.

That very same contract had a clause I never thought I’d used. One about breaking the agreement, permanently. I had agreed to be his, to be his submissive little slave, to work beside him, doing his bidding and accepting his twisted little punishments, but our agreement was
at will
. I could terminate it at any time, in writing.

The papers were already drawn up, nestled safely in the leather padfolio tucked under my arm. But if I turned them in to Maxwell, it meant terminating my job as well as my relationship. Could I afford that? Could I give up the obscene amount money he offered, just like that?

I walked briskly toward the entrance, images of my brother Alex, still behind bars, looking forward to the money I was able to send him to make his stay easier. Could I afford to visit him or Isa if I quit? They were both an airplane ride away, back in Ohio…

I’d just have to get back on my feet was all. After all, it’s not like I didn’t have my own savings. At this point, I could buy a home of my own and have enough left over to job-hunt for a few months. All thanks to Maxwell Pierce’s generosity.

The thought made me sick.

I wondered what he would do if I tried to give some of it back, along with the clothes? I
hated
feeling like I owed him anything. Like he would somehow still own me, even after I left.

But I couldn’t give up the money AND survive on my own… could I?

I’d just have to swallow my pride, as bitter a pill as that was.

No matter what, that damn, smug bastard would win. He would always have a hold on me, always know I was in his debt, no matter what.

The thought almost made me cry again.

“Lucy? Lucy Maxwell?”

I had almost reached the huge glass doors when a man in a courier’s uniform waiting to one side called out to me.

“Y-yes?”

“I was instructed to wait here and deliver this to you first thing, Miss,” he said, tipping his cap.

He handed me a large package, wrapped neatly in black paper. The words “To: Lucy Maxwell” were written on a crisp white label in elegant red lettering.

“Hey, what’s this all abou-“

The man was already disappearing around the corner of the building, leaving me standing there, awkwardly balancing the padfolio and package.

How did he know who I was? And why wait for me to deliver it so early? Why not just send it up to my desk?

This whole thing was very weird, but I couldn’t help myself. My curiosity was piqued. Maxwell Pierce and his stupid goddamn money would just have to wait.

I jogged back to my car and locked the doors before turning to the mysterious black package. I carefully opened one end of the thick paper using my car keys as a makeshift knife, and slid an elegant box and letter out onto my lap. The box was some kind of exotic wood, the letter sitting on top was in an envelope with the initials L.A. embossed onto the heavy paper in silver.

I opened the letter and began to read.

Miss Maxwell,

I hope you’ll forgive my forwardness, but after our moment together, I had to find out more about you. To say you’ve been on my mind would be an understatement. In fact, I found you positively bewitching…

I heard through the grapevine that you may be in the market for a change in position, and wanted to extend an offer.

I’m in need of an assistant—one who can not only meet my various needs, but also be discreet. From what little Maxwell’s said about you, I am positive you are just such a woman, and I hope we can come to a mutual understanding.

If you’re intrigued by this offer, or even if you’re not, I beg of you: hear me out, tonight, in private.

Meet me at the address below at 9 p.m., dressed for an evening out.

I have to see you again, if nothing else, and I promise… I’ll make it worth your while.

An Admirer

What in the holy
hell
?

My mind reeled, thoughts swirling like a twister over what I’d just read.

Is this a… a job offer? But from who? Someone who was friends with Max, or a friend of a friend?

Who the hell did I meet that found me “bewitching”?

Jackson, Max’s brother, was married, after all, as was Chase Drake, and none of his other friends that I’d met here or there had shown any undo interest.

Probably because they’d seen how happy I was,
I thought, my stomach twisting into a knot.
They saw how totally devoted I was to him. My Maxwell…

This was too weird. But then again, maybe it was exactly what I needed. Maybe this mysterious stranger, whoever he was, was offering me a way out of my dilemma. A way to give Max back his money and get him out of my mind once and for all, while still making a living.

Then again, that seemed too good to be true.

The box sat in my lap, the luster of the wood shining dimly in the morning light. I ran my fingertips along the edge, wondering what could possibly be inside. Who would send such an expensive and elegant box like this, and what for?

Maybe it’s a glass slipper I left behind somewhere.

I grinned, picturing it. Little Lucy Maxwell: Princess in Disguise.

I opened the box carefully, its hinges creaking as I raised the heavy lid. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth, then shut my eyes, trying to block out what I saw, to erase the thing that lay inside on a rich bed of green velvet. But when I opened my eyes, it was still there. Mocking me. Judging me.

A porcelain half mask lay inside, white like the phantom of the opera wore.

Or, more aptly, like the stranger I fucked wore, when I thought he was Max and let him have his way with me in the dark.

Looking at it, lying there, looking up at me with dark, empty eyes, flooded my mind with the memory of his taste, his touch… the way he felt inside of me, pumping into me hard, gripping me tight as he took me like an animal. Fucking me like it was all he’d ever wanted to do, and he couldn’t get enough…

I even remembered the way he smelled. Like spice and leather. Similar to Max, but just different enough that I could have known. Should have known.

Sharper. Sweeter.

A hot tear rolled down my cheek and fell onto the mask.

To say you’ve been on my mind would be an understatement.

“That makes two of us,” I said.

I laughed, the sound shaky and hollow in the closed space.

Did I dare meet this man? Face him again, after what passed between us? After he ripped Max and I apart?

After he made me cum so hard I saw spots…

I pressed my hands over my eyes, suddenly dizzy. My heart felt like it was being torn in two inside my chest—part of me horrified, and part of me leaping at the thought of this encounter, this chance to be independent once more.

This chance to see
him
again…

“Oh, God,” I said, snapping the lid shut, the image of the mask still burning in my vision. “What have you gotten yourself into now, Lucy?”

I pushed the box aside, and sat staring through the windshield, the Pierce Motors sign blurring in my vision. After what seemed like an eternity, I blew out a breath, and picked up the letter again, my eyes scanning the address.

I picked up the padfolio and took the papers dissolving my contract out, then got out of the car and walked inside. As I rode the elevator up toward Max’s office, I swore under my breath, my heart hammering in my chest.

I was really doing this. This was really happening.

The elevator dinged, and I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the long walk to his big, mahogany doors.

I knew one thing for sure. Trouble would find me now no matter what I did; no matter which way I turned. Stay or leave, I was in way over my head…

So I might as well have a little fun on the ride straight to Hell.

As I knocked on Maxwell Pierce’s door, I wondered what I was going to wear tonight.

Chapter 2: Ensnare

Lucy

Five hundred thousand dollars.

I still felt sweat tickling the back of my neck just thinking about writing that check… about emptying my bank account of everything but my last paycheck, and tucking it away in a plain white envelope. It felt almost comically light in my hand, considering it held more money than my last employer had probably ever seen in his life, much less me.

My hand trembled as I slid the envelope through the mail slot, my knuckles whitening as it gripped it hard, just for the space of a heartbeat, before letting it go. It swished through the slot and disappeared into the darkness on the other side of Max’s door.

Above me, a camera rotated with a soft whirr, turning to focus on the doorstep where I stood. I frowned and backed into the shadows, before turning and high-tailing it back to my waiting taxi. The last thing I needed now was a confrontation.

I had places to be. Places where I was wanted, unlike here, at Maxwell Pierce’s threshold.

Here at what used to be my home, until I was tossed out on my ass like yesterday’s trash.

I took a deep breath and smoothed down my slinky black dress, willing myself not to cry. I just needed to keep breathing, and maybe, just maybe, the tightening feeling in my chest would melt away.

Damn that man!

The thought of crying, here of all places, was too much to bear. No matter how badly the tears wanted to fall right then, I just couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

I slid into the backseat of the cab, my head held high and slammed the door.

“Please take me to this address now,” I said, handing my grizzled driver the address card I’d received in my special delivery. “And step on it.”

“You got it, lady.”

I sat back, my loose copper curls cascading over my shoulders, and blew out a breath.

So, that’s that. Max and I are officially done.

I should have been glad. I should have felt free, or at least like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders. But when I imagined the look on his face, his gorgeous face, when he saw the check, and read the note I’d left, instead of smug satisfaction at his hurt, I could only feel pain.

I could almost picture his clear, blue eyes as they darted over the letter—furious and searching as he read my meager explanation.

Mr. Pierce,

We both know you paid me far more than my job as your assistant was worth. If I kept the money, I’d still feel like I was your “kept woman.” After all we’ve been through, I couldn’t bear that. Not now.

We both need our freedom, so I’m leaving this check as a way of cutting ties. Please don’t call me or try to fight me on this. What’s done is done.

I wish you all the best. I really do.

Love,

Lucy

What else was there to say? That I still loved him? That every time I thought of him, I still burned for him; still yearned for his touch? That the thought of how I hurt him cut through me like a knife—the pain so searing, it was almost unbearable? That more than anything, I wanted him to hold me to his chest, wrap me in those strong arms of his, and tell me everything was forgiven…  and that I was still
his
?

No matter how much I wanted to, I could never bring myself to do it; to say those words to him.

As much as I’d hurt him, he’d hurt me, and worse. He’d put me in danger, then tossed me aside when things went bad, like I’d meant less than nothing to him. Like he’d never even cared. Like he’d never told me he loved me and always wanted to be my Master. My Mr. Pierce.

How could I ever trust him again, even if he did come back? How could I give myself to him completely and be his little slave if I couldn’t be sure he’d keep me safe? If I didn’t know he’d always love me and take care of me?

It was impossible.

It was all broken now, the future I thought I had shattered at my feet like a bad luck mirror. All I could do now was pick up the shards and carry on, trying to create a new future. A better one.

A future
without
the insufferable Maxwell Pierce and his stupid, smug face.

I blotted away a tear as the cab rolled to a stop.

***

The iron gates towered above me, flanked by two mountains of flesh crammed into crisp black suits and wearing earpieces. I looked hesitantly back toward the cab, but the driver pulled away from the curb, not daring to look back. Could I blame him?

The address he’d taken me to was deep in the industrial part of the city, past the bustle of downtown into the grim, slate grey labyrinth of warehouses and abandoned buildings. We passed a set of train tracks right before the club, and for a moment, seeing the massive gate looming in the distance, felt like I was a damned soul passing over the River Styx.

The gates had to be ten feet fall and wrought out of elaborately scrolled black iron topped with deadly-looking spikes. They were beautiful in a terrifying sort of way, I thought, but damned if I didn’t want to run from both them, and the intimidating stares of the guards. The address of the establishment was part of the gates, spelled out in gilded letters, framed by the iron.

98 Cross Rd.

“Um… Hi. Uh, I was invited to come here tonight… by, uh…”

“Name?”

“L-Lucy Willcox,” I said, my voice unusually high all of a sudden.

The man on the right turned and muttered into the microphone tucked into his sleeve, just like he was in the secret service or something. I shifted on my platform heels, feeling very small despite the extra 5” they gave me. I didn’t even reach the guard’s shoulders.

He nodded at me, and the gates creaked open of their own accord behind him.

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Willcox,” the guard said, his face as impassive as stone.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

I jogged through the gate, straightening my hem, wanting to escape that icy stare as quickly as possible. If that was the welcoming party, what will the host be like? And what the hell
was
this place, anyway?

A wide cobbled walk way led through a short alley, behind which a dark building rose, looking for all the world like the crumbling façade of an ancient hotel. A cobblestone courtyard opened up before her leading to the wide stone steps, beneath a columned archway. There was no sign here—no indication of what this place was at all, here at the edge of town.

Where no one can hear you scream.

My throat tightened as I climbed the steps and reached for the elaborately carved brass knob on the door. It didn’t budge. I rattled it once, wondering if it was stuck, then swore under my breath.

A voice echoed through the courtyard, making me jump like a cat in a room full of rockers.

“Name?”

“Lucy,” I yelled, looking around me for the speaker. “Willcox. I’m expected…?”

My eyes locked on several gargoyles peering down from the corners of the building, but I couldn’t find where the sound was coming from. It was downright eerie.

A sharp click made me jump
again
, and I smacked my palm to my forehead. I needed to get my shit together, like, yesterday. I had to be confident when I faced this mysterious admirer of mine, especially if I wanted to get the job he all but offered me. The thought of seeing
him
again… especially after the way he last saw me—shock and horror dawning on my face as I looked from him, still inside me, to my lover—made my mouth go suddenly dry.

Things were definitely about to get weird.

I swallowed hard and reached for the knob again. It opened smoothly beneath my touch, and I heaved open the heavy wooden door.

The heavy thump of bass hit my ears from deep within the building as I stepped into a dark entryway, lined heavily in deep crimson cloth and thick carpet. A black sign with gold letters spelled out
Club Asmodai
.

What the hell is an Asmodai?

A woman with short slicked-back hair appeared from the shadows, wearing a too-short maid’s uniform and cherry-red lipstick. Her thick velvet choker, almost like a collar, caught my eye, and I shivered.

What was this place?

“May I take your bag, Miss Willcox?” she said, smiling shyly.

There was something about her big, dark eyes that made me pause before handing her my bag.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She was clearly in a servant’s role here, but her eyes held a light of mischief in them, a glimmer of joy, even, as she took my purse, her fingers brushing over mine in a way that sent a shiver up my spine. She leaned in, too close, and whispered in my ear.

“Come this way.”

I felt her breath tickling my neck, and smelled the sweet scent of her perfume mingled with the light odor of her sweat. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but the intimacy made me want to pull away. I breathed a sigh of relief when she turned, crooking her finger at me, urging me to follow.

I took a deep breath, and did just that, despite the sense of dread growing in my stomach with each step. Just what, exactly, was I getting myself into here?

We passed through a set of leather padded double doors, and a wall of sound and scent hit me in the face. A throbbing beat hit me, pulsing in my chest, and then somewhere lower, the music dark and primal. The smell of sweat and liquor mingled with the sweeter notes of perfume, but the underlying scent is what made me pause, my steps faltering, and look around me. Sex filled the air, musky and sensual; arousal coming from every direction. I kept walking.

I saw bodies tangled in the dark to either side, and realized we were in some kind of ballroom. There were lush velvet and leather booths lining the walls, candles burning low on the tables, illuminating lovers in various states of undress. Laughter met my ears, and then a sharp
crack
, followed by a scream.

I did stop now, my heartbeat pounding in my throat. My hostess turned back, a smile on her face, and reached for my hand.

“It’s quite alright,” she purred. “Some of our guests play rougher games than others.”

She nodded toward the far corner, where a woman was bound to what looked like a giant X, her legs and arms spread wide; her body trembling and nude. We moved closer, and I noticed the man standing before her, immaculate in a black Italian suit. I let out a hiss of breath when I saw the leather flail in his hand, then noticed the unmistakable glisten of arousal slickening the woman’s thighs… her nipples rock hard peaks as she eyed him, eager for more.

I hurried after the hostess, trying to keep my eyes forward, even as we passed other couples. I couldn’t help but notice another woman bent over some kind of strange bench, her naked ass in the air, her cheeks red and bruised, as her master leaned over her, caressing her flesh as tears ran down her face.

I was ashamed to admit, as bizarre and almost creepy as this place was, seeing these women, bound and submissive, made my pussy tingle in my silk panties. It was times like these that I wished I’d never met Maxwell Pierce… never discovered how much I enjoyed being handled roughly by the man I loved. How much I loved being spanked over a mahogany desk, then taken hard from behind… And how much I missed it, now that it was gone.

We passed through another set of leather-padded doors—soundproofed, I now assumed—into a darkened hallway, lit only by gilded wall sconces, their glowing light illuminating the rich merlot wallpaper, then up a winding staircase, and through another hallway. I felt more and more like I saw walking into the belly of some great beast, as if this whole hotel-turned-club, or whatever, was one gigantic monster, breathing slowly around me, just waiting to capture me deep inside itself and slowly leech my life away. Digest me whole.

We passed several rooms now, each with jet-black doors and gold numbers marking them. Muffled screams and moans surrounded us, leeching through the wood. I cleared my throat, suddenly very, very nervous about what kind of job offer this really was.

He didn’t dare think I was some kind of two-bit hooker, did he? That I would sell myself to him, just like that? Well, if he did, he certainly had another thing coming!

I mean, sure, I signed Max’s contract, but only to wear his kinky little uniforms and let him spank me once in a while… not to fuck me. And that was very, very different. Wasn’t it?

The more I thought about it, the less sure I was. I felt myself blushing, my cheeks burning as I followed the hostess, willing myself to just be cool, already and stop the impending freak out growing inside of me with each new door we passed.

The hallway ended at an elevator door. The hostess grinned coyly from under fake lashes, her dark eyes smiling as she pushed the single button.

“He waits for you in the penthouse suite,” she said, her voice breathy.

I nodded, my nerves jangling like tin cans on a string.

“T-thank you.”