Jackson watched me, both of his eyebrows raising. “Oh, shit.”
I closed the box and placed it inside my pocket.
“She’s your submissive now?”
“No.” But I wanted the world to know I wasn’t available. When enough time had passed and people knew Isabella and I weren’t getting back together, women would begin to make passes at me. But this ring was like bug repellent. It would keep the gnats away.
“Then why are you wearing it?”
“Even though she’s not my submissive now, doesn’t mean she won’t be very soon.”
I was just about to leave the office when Bruce called me. He was Rome’s personal driver, and I paid him a lot of money to take her wherever she wanted, safely tucked in the back seat of a luxury car with windows so tinted it was like staring into deep space.
“What’s up, Bruce?” I crossed my legs under the desk and adjusted my tie with my fingertips.
“Sorry, boss. We have a problem.”
I stiffened in my chair, anticipating what that problem was.
“She ducked out from the back exit of the building. The front door is locked, and she’s gone. I suspect she’s on her way back to the house now.”
I wanted to strangle her.
“I’m sorry, boss,” he repeated. “She was in a bad mood this morning, but I didn’t think she was a flight risk.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bruce. Thank you.” I hung up and tossed the phone on the table, a migraine forming deep behind my eyes. I loved Rome’s feistiness, her strong sense of independence and no bullshit. I found her attitude beautiful, even charming. But when she didn’t listen to my direct orders, it pissed me the fuck off.
She needed to listen to me.
I felt my hand shake at her disobedience. I wanted to spank her ass hard enough that her cheeks welted like my hand had been the leather bite from a belt. With Isabella, I told her what to do every instant we were together, and she obeyed. It was a year of perfection, of a perfect Dom with a perfect sub. Now, I had a woman who was a loose cannon, exceptionally beautiful and satisfying, but a huge pain in the ass.
I wanted to come clean and explain my needs. I wanted to ask her to be my sub, to trust me to take us to a world of pleasure she would grow to appreciate. But I knew it was way too soon for that. She lost her virginity to me just a few days ago, and there was no way in hell she would listen to my proposition with an open mind.
I had to steady my hand longer.
I had to be patient.
I had to gradually combat her.
I had to restrain her.
And I had to control her.
When I walked into the house, she already had dinner cooking in the kitchen. The aroma of pot roast filled the air, the delectable scent of potatoes and spices heavy on my sinuses. For coming from an apartment with a microwave for a kitchen, she knew how to whip up some incredible things.
But even if she were naked, I wouldn’t appreciate it.
I tossed my heavy coat on the stand in the walkway and slammed the door behind me, wanting her to know I was there—and I was pissed. I marched into the kitchen, eager to grab her by the hair and push her to her knees. I wanted her to suck me off as a punishment, to let her knees ache against the tiles as she deep-throated me until she choked.
I rounded the corner and stared her down, my expression a formidable storm.
She glanced at me, and as if my threat meant nothing, she continued her work at the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.” She kept her voice steady like there wasn’t any kind of problem.
The more she defied me, the more I wanted to control her.
And that was bad news for her. “Did you take the subway?”
She stirred the pot before she turned off the gas on the stove. The contents simmered with heat, bubbling at the surface. She turned to face me, her hand on her hip and her eyes guarded with steel armor. She wasn’t afraid of me.
But she should’ve been.
“Yes.” She continued her defiant attitude, not wincing or breaking her gaze. “And I’m going to take the subway tomorrow.”
I took a deep breath because I felt my hands shake. An image of me grabbing her by the throat and shoving her into the wall filled my mind. I’d get in her face and command her to obey me, and if she didn’t, there would be consequences. Then she would apologize and call me her master.
I was so fucking hard.
But I couldn’t do that. Not without her explicit permission. “You aren’t taking the subway. Don’t push me, Vanilla.”
“I’ll push you all I like.” She stared me down like a general in the midst of war. Corpses, weapons, and smoke didn’t make her blink an eye. This woman was fearless.