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“When he finally came back to the London club, I foolishly, stupidly thought I would be able to reach him—to show him he could find happiness again—with me.”
She frowned, recalling those difficult, painful days, and how different Jack had been—so callous and casual in the way he had moved from pleasure sub to pleasure sub.
“It was almost worse than if he hadn’t come back at all, as I no longer felt like I knew him. It’s like he was there in body, but not in soul, if that makes any sense. He treated me as nothing more than a toy, interchangeable with the other toys at the club. I was forced to accept that we were not to be. It became so painful that I had no choice but to leave if I was going to stay sane.”
“I know. That had to be so tough,” Jess commiserated. “I don’t blame you for striking out and finding something new. But now…”
“Now,” Cleo repeated, “he reappears out of the blue, larger than life and sexy as hell. He’s not interested in playing the field here, as he had in London. He’s focused solely on me, even to the point he goes through this elaborate charade with the auction to ‘buy’ me for five days. Things are moving so fast between us that I can’t keep my balance. Is this love, or just crazy infatuation on both sides? Do I really want to take that risk again?”
“I get it,” Jess replied, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re dealing with scary stuff, because your emotions are involved and you really care about this guy. Clearly, Jack’s serious about you, Cleo. He flew across the world and then jumped through all kinds of hoops, not to mention shelling out serious cash, in order to make sure he got you. He’s taking risks too. This isn’t a game for him. No way. He’s into you.”
“It does seem that way,” Cleo marveled, grinning in spite of herself. “I guess I have to figure out what I really want. And how much risk I’m willing to take to find out.”
Jess patted Cleo’s knee. “Follow your gut. That’s my advice. It’s usually smarter than your brain when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Cleo nodded. Suddenly mindful of the time, she rose from the bed. “I better finish getting ready. Master Jack is waiting for me downstairs.”
She moved toward the bathroom. Jess followed her, stopping at the open door as Cleo entered to do her makeup. She could see Jess’s reflection in the mirror. She could tell by Jess’s expression that she wasn’t done yet.
Sure enough, Jess continued, “You know, I used to think I had no time for love. My career was the be-all and end-all, and men were just a periodic distraction. I figured I had plenty of time for love to find me. The thing is, if you keep your head in the sand—if you run from your feelings and hide because you’re afraid of getting hurt, you’re shutting off a major portion of your life—the very thing that makes life worth living. If Master Cameron has taught me anything, it’s that love is the key. It opens every door. It gives you a new lease on life—a chance to heal what’s been hurt, and repair what’s been broken. Give Jack a chance, Cleo. One of the most important aspects of true submission is trust—and that goes both ways.”
Cleo turned to face her friend. “I know you’re right. In my heart of hearts, I want what you’re describing more than anything in the world. And I want it with Jack Hartford. I know from therapy that I’m acting off fear. We talked a lot about my so-called abandonment issues. My therapist even suggested my situation here at the New York club is a way for me to hide from the scary prospect of truly connecting with another person.”
Cleo shook her head. “It’s funny, when she first offered that idea, I rejected it out of hand. I was adamant that I loved my life just as it was, but I was lying, both to her and to myself.”
“I know,” Jess said gently. “I knew it when we first met. You were smiling and bubbly, but there was such sadness in your eyes.”
Cleo was startled by this revelation, though in retrospect, she shouldn’t have been. It was one of the things she loved about Jess—her ability to look past the surface to what really lay beneath.
“Since he magically resurfaced, I keep telling myself this can’t be real. I tell myself I don’t need Master Jack, or any man, to be happy. But something you said just now really got to me. I think I’m the problem here. I don’t trust Jack. Not all the way. Not yet.”
“It’s understandable,” Jess interjected. “But from all you’ve said, it sounds like he’s really trying.”
