The Dom's Dungeon (20 page)

They talked
briefly about Mac's first view of the Sound and mountains, then the work Susan
did for the spay-neuter programs. By the time Susan excused herself, Mac had
decided to add Susan's hospital to her list of places to apply.

As they
drifted toward the huge room set up for the silent auction, Mac met ten more
veterinarians, most of whom owned their own clinics. “Don't any middle-class
people attend this event?” she asked finally when she and Alex were alone.

“Not too
many,” he said absently, nodding at a couple. “It's four hundred dollars a
plate.”

She
stopped dead, and he'd taken two steps past her before realizing she was gone.
With a huffed laugh, he returned. Running his hands up and down her bare arms,
he said, “Relax, pet. Keeping the price high draws the big spenders so we can
soak them good in the auction room. That is the point, after all.”

“Yes,
but—”

“Just
treat everyone like Butler does,” he advised. “His only concern is if a person
smells good and knows how to pet a dog properly.”

Hearing
his name, Butler looked up and wagged his tail.

Mac pulled
in a breath. “Okay. I…sorry. I just hadn't realized—thought about…” She
shrugged helplessly. God, she was so far out of her class… Her chest ached.

Alex's
hands tightened on her arms. “No. I don't want to see that look in your eyes.”
He frowned at her. “People are people. A lot of the ones here inherited money.
They didn't do anything productive to earn it. Others gave up everything to get
rich. Does having money and no character make a person admirable?”

But if
they knew what she'd done?
But they
don't, stupid. Get over it
. She looked great, and the most gorgeous man in
the place escorted her. Her lips curved. “All right. Sorry. Momentary panic
attack,” she said lightly.

Alex
kissed her cheek gently. “Now that's character,” he said, then continued
leading her into the auction room.

“
MacKensie
!”

Mac froze,
then grinned as a tiny streak of electric blue sped across the room. “Hope,
you're here.”

“Look at
you! You look awesome.” Hope clapped her hands, then wrinkled her nose at Alex.
“
Phht
, you don't deserve her, you know.”

Mac's
mouth dropped open. When Peter appeared and drew Alex's attention, she edged
closer to Hope and whispered, “Won't you get in trouble talking to him that
way?”

Hope
giggled. “No. The rules are for play or… Well, each couple is different. Some
are truly Master and slave all the time, but those in our little group aren't.”
She shook her head. “Of course, if I give him too much grief, he'll make me
suffer for it the next time we all get together.”

When Peter
and Hope headed back to their station at an auction table, an older woman broke
away from a small group. Wearing a silvery gown that accented her blue eyes and
silver hair, she seemed the epitome of dignity. Taking Alex's hand, she kissed
his cheek lightly and said, “I'm giving a dinner party next Friday, and I'd
like you to attend.”

Mac
frowned at how familiar her voice sounded. Maybe from one of the vet's offices
or…

“Why don't
you bring Cynthia with you?” the woman asked.

Do not glare; glaring is not polite
. Mac
smoothed her expression out with an effort. But maybe this was a good time to
go hang out with Peter and Hope for a bit. She started to edge away.

Alex's
hand wrapped around her arm, holding her in place.
“Cynthia moved to Rome, Mother.”

Rome?
Mother? Oh
frak
.
She didn't think she moved, but the fingers around her arm tightened.

“Mother,
I'd like you to meet my friend
MacKensie
Taylor, who
is moving here from the Midwest.
MacKensie
, this is
my mother, Victoria Fontaine.”

“Pleased
to meet you,” Mac said, forcing sincerity into her voice.

“Welcome
to Seattle, Miss Taylor,” Victoria said with not a speck of warmth. “If you'll
excuse me, I want to check our seating arrangements.” She tilted her head at
her son, patted Butler, nodded to Mac, and swept away.

How long
did you have to be rich before you learned to walk like a queen? Mac wondered,
shoving aside the pain from being so obviously detested. She glanced at Alex.
“I didn't realize you have family here.” Actually, since she wasn't used to
having any, she hadn't even thought about it.

“Please
forgive my mother,” Alex said softly. “My father was unfaithful and had a
liking for blondes, so Mother acts as if every pretty blonde is a hooker.”

A hooker
. Mac felt the blood slide right out of her face,
and her hands clenched. “Nothing to forgive,” she said hastily. “But I just
spotted the ladies' room. If you and Butler will excuse me, please?” Before he
could grab her and quiz her, she escaped. She knew her hasty retreat not only
didn't look like a queen's but displayed no dignity whatsoever.

Decorated
in floral wallpaper with blue tiling the color of Alex's eyes, the elegant
powder room held several brocade-covered chairs. Her legs none too steady, Mac
sank into one gratefully. Alex's mother thought blondes were hookers. If she
only knew… Mac gave a short laugh and buried her face in her hands.

After a
minute, her brain clicked back on.
Overreacting
here.

Really
now, although Alex made her feel wonderful and she really liked him, he wasn't…wasn't…
She stared at her hands, watching the sparkles on her fingernails. Well, yes,
he
was
. She'd fallen for him in a big
way. But they had a deal, and he'd made it very, very clear right from the
beginning that he didn't want a real girlfriend.
Temporary, Mac, try to remember that.

So fine.
On a
more positive note, that meant whatever his mother thought of
MacKensie
wasn't important at all. Besides, she lived in
Seattle now, not Oak Hollow; no one knew her past…mistakes.

Mac raised
her chin and straightened her spine. Alex had brought her here to help her find
a job. She'd better get with the program.

* * * * *

An hour
later, the most tedious part of the evening—speeches and acknowledgments and
awards—had concluded, the program deliberately kept short and sweet.

Since Alex
found sit-down meals at an event this size far from palatable, two years ago
he'd prevailed and hors d'oeuvres were served buffet-style instead. Each of the
many long tables along the wall featured the artistry of a different local
chef, and after serving themselves, guests could sit and eat or wander around.

Alex had
seen to the feeding of his little sub, although she had no appetite, especially
when she realized they had to sit in the front of the room. A glass of wine
helped her color. After the speeches were done, he took her table-hopping,
choosing vet contacts she'd find useful and people he thought she'd enjoy. His
friends tended to be good, down-to-earth people. He'd enjoyed watching as she
charmed the pets at each table and then their owners. God knew she charmed the
hell out of him.

With a
sense of anticipation, he had introduced her to his uncle. An excellent judge
of character, Uncle Andrew had disliked Cynthia within minutes of meeting her.
He obviously fell for
MacKensie
just as quickly and
was now trying to talk her into joining the family for a day sail through the
San Juan Islands.

Alex lost
track of the conversation when
MacKensie
turned away
from him and the light glinted off the long expanse of bare skin. That damned
gown. If he touched the smooth, silky skin on her back one more time, he was
liable to yank the straps down and scoop her breasts into his hands. Just the
thought made him harden.

“Don't you
agree?”
MacKensie
looked over her shoulder at him and
met his gaze. Within the space of one breath, her brown eyes darkened as she
caught his heat. She licked her lips, and he remembered how that soft mouth had
felt around his cock last night.

“Ahem.”
His mouth quirking, Uncle Andrew rose to his feet.

Politely,
Alex did the same and glanced down to see that
MacKensie's
face had turned red. He stroked a finger down her cheek, watched it darken
further, and tried not to laugh when she glared at him.

“I need to
find my Serena before she buys out the auction room,” Andrew said. After
looking at the crowd of people in the room, he clapped Alex on the shoulder.
“You've done a nice job here.” Then his gaze dropped to the little vet
attempting to straighten Butler's bow tie and laughing when the dog managed to
sneak in a lick.

Andrew
nodded. “Very, very nice.”

* * * * *

All this
socializing could exhaust a girl, but the evening was almost over. And she'd
done really well. Smiling a little, Mac leaned forward and checked her makeup
in the powder-room mirror. Whatever that beautician had used on her must have
been industrial-strength. Even the lipstick had lasted.

She
straightened up and turned one way, then the other. The evening gown rippled
and glinted. Had Cinderella felt like this? Hopefully glass slippers were more
comfortable than these gorgeous, strappy, high-heeled sandals. Her
sneaker-wearing feet had gone into shock at least two hours ago.

After
smiling at the other women lined up in front of the mirrors, Mac gave herself
one last approving nod and headed out.

The tiny
hallway that led to the ballroom was empty except for a beefy, middle-aged man.
To Mac's surprise, he stepped directly into her path.

“Excuse
me.” She moved to the side.

He blocked
her again. “Now don't you just look a sight? Who would have thought the whore
who serviced an Iowa vet convention would be working here? You got some sort of
hard-on for vets?” He grabbed her arm, squeezing painfully. “What? Don't you
recognize me? You should. I paid you enough, and like I told your pimp, you
were a lousy lay.”

She froze,
cold seeping into her as if the hall had frozen, turning her bones to brittle
ice.
Ajax staking out the alley. Man
after man from the convention. She'd been so tired. The last man—this
man—complaining. Ajax's fists.

“You've
come a long way from that dirty little brat in Des Moines.” The fat pockets
around his eyes squeezed together as he looked her over, his gaze lingering on
her cleavage. “You look good. Very good.”

After the
first month or so, she'd stopped really seeing the johns. They'd just been shadows
that used her body and gave her money so Ajax wouldn't beat her. But she
recognized this brutal man. She swallowed, trying to think. What could she say
to make him disappear?

“Tell you
what.” He pulled her toward him. “I'll get us a room upstairs. You can show me
if your skills improved along with your appearance.”

“No.” Her
lips felt numb, but her voice didn't waver.

“Oh yes.”
He yanked her close enough to breathe in her ear. Nausea knotted her stomach.
“You're a whore; you can't afford to be picky.”

I'm not a whore. Never. Ever. Again
.
With all her strength, she
yanked her arm out of his grasp, ignoring the way his fingernails ripped her
skin. “I'm not a whore, you bastard,” she hissed. “Stay away from me.”

Behind
her, the bathroom door opened, and two elderly women exited, one carrying a
teacup poodle.

Mac's
heart thudded against her ribs like blows from a fist as she turned to them.
“Excuse me, but could you show me where the auction room is?”

“Of
course, dear,” one said.

“Lovely.”
Mac forced a smile and sidled closer. “That's an adorable dog,” she said to the
woman holding the poodle. “What's his name?”

“This is
Figaro.” As she stroked the dog's head, the old woman glanced at the man. “Dr.
Dickerson, how pleasant to see you.”

“Nice to
see you, Mrs. Johnson.”

Walking
beside the women, Mac passed Dickerson. Even without looking, she could feel
the anger radiating from him.

As they
left the hall, Mac cleared her dry throat. “Are you acquainted with that
veterinarian?” He must be a vet if he'd been at that Iowa convention.

“Oh yes.”
Mrs. Johnson lowered her voice. “I shouldn't say anything, but”—she glanced at
her friend, who nodded—“I hate to see any innocent animal in his hands. He's
competent enough, but his temper… He actually struck my poor Figaro once. Just
for growling.”

He'd
struck her too, Mac thought. Before shoving her at Ajax and demanding his money
back.

She
managed to continue the conversation until well into the busy ballroom. After
they pointed to the auction room, Mac veered off, working her way around the
side of the ballroom toward where she'd left Alex talking with the mayor. She
checked over her shoulder every few seconds, but the man hadn't followed.

Before
she'd even managed to get halfway around the room, dizziness surged through
her. Head spinning, she staggered to the wall and dropped into a chair. Her
face felt cold, then hot, and for a moment her stomach almost revolted.
Breathing through her teeth, she fought the sickness down. One breath. Another.
She'd used the technique before, especially in the beginning, when she still
thought of herself as a nice girl.