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The speed with which he’d turned her into a submissive sex slave was quite shocking. So why wasn’t she more shocked this morning? Maybe it was because underneath all that S&M role-playing Ben was a nice man. A decent man. She felt confident that he would never hurt her for real. Look at the way he’d made love to her later in the night, so gently and rather sweetly. She’d enjoyed that time even more than all the other times so far. And there’d been quite a few already, Jess thought ruefully. Ben couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. In more ways than one!
After a rather quick shower, Jess rubbed some of the body lotion she found in the vanity into her buttocks. They were still a little on the tender side, but nothing major. Once her teeth were cleaned and her hair up in a ponytail, she hurried into the other bedroom where she took out some fresh clothes: a pair of three-quarter length white trousers and a navy-and-white striped top. Slipping white sandals onto her feet, she headed for the kitchen where Ben was thankfully now wearing the white bathrobe which had been on the bedroom floor earlier. He was sitting at the kitchen table with some toast and coffee in front of him.
‘I think your mother’s checking up on you,’ he said.
‘Possibly. It’s hard to put anything past my mum.’
‘Not for the want of your trying, though,’ he said, smiling at her.
Lord, but he was devilishly attractive when he smiled like that, even with slightly bleary eyes and a stubbly chin.
‘She wanted to know how the wedding went. And to invite you to our family barbecue tonight.’
His eyebrows lifted, then fell. ‘Do you want me to go, Jess?’
She shrugged. ‘I doubt you’ll enjoy it much. Mum will give you the once-over, then Dad’ll probably give you the third degree, if he thinks you’re interested in me.’
‘Which I am.’
It annoyed Jess, his saying that. Because he wasn’t really interested in her in that way. He just wanted to have more sex with her whilst he was here in Australia. Okay, so Ben was basically a good man, but he was also spoiled and selfish. It wasn’t all his fault, of course. He’d been born beautiful and into great wealth: both very corrupting factors. He’d probably developed his liking for kinky sex because he’d had so much sex in his life he’d got bored with straightforward love-making. Which was a pity. Because he did straightforward love-making very well indeed.
Jess sighed. ‘I honestly don’t think you should go.’
‘Why not?’
‘For the reasons I just told you.’
‘But I want to meet your parents.’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘For pity’s sake, why?’
‘Because I want to ask them to give you this week off so we can go to Sydney and work together on Fab Fashions. I thought we might stay down there instead of driving up and down the motorway every day. Mum has a flat in Bondi we could use.’
Jess didn’t know what to say. She wanted to go, of course. Wanted the opportunity to do something about Fab Fashions. And, yes, she wanted to spend more time alone with Ben, especially some more of his very exciting brand of sex. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that, especially to herself. But at the back of her mind, in that place reserved for difficult decisions, she knew if she did this, then she was sure to become even more emotionally involved with him.
‘I…I don’t know, Ben,’ she said hesitantly, turning away to make herself some coffee. ‘Like you said, there’s probably no fixing Fab Fashions. We’d just be wasting our time.’
‘I don’t agree. We’ll have that chat on the drive home and come up with a new name, one which will lend itself to a successful marketing strategy. Because you’re right, Jess. Companies like ours shouldn’t just bail out when things get tough. We can afford to ride some losses for a while, especially when the alternative means that people will lose their jobs.’
Jess wanted to believe he meant it. But she didn’t. Companies like De Silva & Associates were all about making profits. They didn’t give a damn about the little people. Which was what she was. One of the little people.
Jess finished making her coffee, then carried it over to the table. ‘I’m sorry, Ben,’ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, ‘but I’d rather not. I’m a mechanic, not some marketing expert.’
‘So you’re giving up on Fab Fashions?’
‘I’ve told you what’s wrong with the business. You’re an intelligent man. I’ll put my thinking cap on during the drive back and come up with a name which might suit. Then it’s up to you to do something with it.’
