ARROGANT MASTER by Winter Renshaw Page A

bastard.
    ***
    “Goodnight, Bellamy.” Cortland stands a careful distance
from me in the driveway the main house. “I’ll be over again tomorrow.” He
glances at my parents. “Of course, if that’s okay with Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”
    Mom claps her hands against her heart, her face twisting
into a ridiculously pleased expression.
    “Absolutely, Cortland.” Dad stands with his hands on his
hips, nonchalantly asserting his dominance over the entire situation the way he
always does. “You know, it’s about time we meet your folks. Why don’t we plan a
big dinner this Saturday afternoon? Weather should be good. We can grill out.
Eat outside. Would be fun.”
    “Oh, yes,” Mom agrees. “I’d love to meet your mothers.”
    “Sure,” Cortland says. “My parents have met Bellamy at Bible
study, but I know they’d love to be able to sit down with you all and forge a
closer bond.”
    He speaks my father’s language better than anyone else I
know.
    The three of them all turn to me, like they all share one
brain.
    “Yes,” I say, offering up a fake yawn. “That sounds
wonderful. Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m beat. Going to head up
now. Goodnight, Cortland.”
    I give a quick wave, since we’re not allowed to touch or
kiss or hug, and head inside with a grateful heart: grateful that this night is
finally over.

 

EIGHT

 
 
    DANE

 
    “How was your evening?” I bump into her, of all places,
outside the elevator. She’s early today. Thirty minutes.
    She grips the straps of her shoulder bag tight, and I motion
for her to go on first. I am, all things considered, a gentleman.
    “It was good.” Her words have no flavor to them at all.
They’re blanched and bland. She stares straight ahead like she’s in a fog.
“Yours?”
    “My night was wonderful. Thank you.” I press the button to
the fifteenth floor and lean against the railing. A faint perfume fills the
small box we share, and I drag her scent into my lungs without her so much as
noticing. Gardenia. That’s what it is. Only it’s not as heavy. It’s mixed with
something else a bit lighter and complementary.
    I love it. It’s subtle and elegant and doesn’t scream for
attention like so many of the obnoxious fragrances women wear these days.   
    The doors ding and separate, and I motion for her to leave
first. When she exits, she waits for me to walk next to her.
    “I take it you did some thinking last night?” I state the
obvious because obviously she wouldn’t be here today if she changed her mind. I
slip my key into the double doors that lead into the reception area. It’s just
us two for at least the next twenty minutes. I normally use this time to clear
my head and prep for the day, but today I’ll make an exception.
    Besides, she was extra early today.
    For me .
    To please me .
    Her master .
    “Absolutely,” she says. “I’m fired up now more than ever.”
    I lick the curve of my lower lip as I try not to show the
intense amount of pleasure I get from hearing her say such a thing.
    “Excellent. I’ve got a conference call at eight-fifteen, but
after that, I’ll make sure Marlene blocks out my schedule so we can continue
your training.”
    She slips into her office, and I head to mine
and wait .
    And wait.
    And wait.
    My fingers drum the wood top of my desk, reaching distance
from my phone, and when it finally rings, I clear my throat, let it ring three
more times and answer.
    “Yes, Bellamy?”
    “What is all of this?” She’s breathless, and my only regret
is not being there in person to see her face.
    The effect wouldn’t have been the same, though.
    “You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” I
tease.
    “The boxes, Dane.” Her words are rushed, jumbling into one
another. “These, these things. Are they all for me?”
    “Every last item in those packages was hand-selected for you
by my personal shopper.”
    My subs only have the best. Red-bottomed shoes. Designer
jeans. Red-carpet