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Chapter 3
The atmosphere seemed to shift in the room, as if even the air were holding its breath. The nearly constant ping and clang of the ancient cast iron hot water radiator was suddenly silent. Only the sound of her own hammering heart echoed in Dahlia’s ears, so loud she was sure Hayden could hear it.
A sense of the surreal settled over her. It was as if she’d stepped out of reality and into the pages of one of her romance novels. She decided to approach this bizarre turn of events in just that way—as if she were a character in a novel—the sexy heroine waiting to be swept off her feet by the charming hero. Or no—a brave, adventurous explorer, stepping confidently into a world she’d only glimpsed from afar.
She felt at once energized and terrified, like when she was balanced at the top of a very high, very twisty roller coaster in that split second before the plunge. She’d stepped way, way out of her comfort zone.
Was this party really worth it? Because, no question, he was right. What they were about to do would either bring them much, much closer, or it would ruin everything. If things didn’t go right, how could she still be friends with him without dying of embarrassment? How could he still be friends with her, having revealed so much of himself?
On the other hand, she’d gotten him to budge on the invitation fromabsolutely nottomaybe. This was the chance of a lifetime, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of hers regretting that she’d lost her nerve.
If only her damn hands would stop trembling. She clenched them into fists against her thighs as she waited for whatever came next. She wished she hadn’t had the bright idea of getting on her knees, like one of the heroines in her novels. They never talked about how uncomfortable it was. Her bootheels were beginning to dig into her butt and her right thigh seemed to be cramping. She very much wanted to get to her feet, but she was determined to wait for Hayden’s cue.
Even this moment of silence might be a test. Fine. She’d always been good at tests. She would pass this one with flying colors, and then she’d get the golden ticket—an invitation to this mysterious, exclusive club where things happened that she could barely get her head around. She couldn’t decide which was more exciting—whatever was about to take place, or what it might lead to.
She focused on Hayden as she tried to still her racing thoughts. His eyes had darkened from sapphire to an even deeper blue, the lids hooding in a sexy way as his usual half-smile fell away. She expected him to rise from the sofa and extend a hand to pull her up.
Instead, he remained seated, though he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her. “Stand up,” he directed.
Dahlia got awkwardly to her feet, relieved to be off her knees. She faced him, heart pounding, mouth dry, sweat prickling in her armpits.
“Hands at your sides,” he directed.
Dahlia realized she’d been twisting her fingers together, a nervous habit she thought she’d outgrown. She dropped her hands, trying to calm her jittery nerves.
“It’s natural to be nervous,” he said, his tone gentler now. “Close your eyes.” He waited until she had obeyed.
“Focusing on your breathing will help you to calm down. I want you to take in a deep breath through your nose and let it out slowly.”
Again, he waited until she had complied. “Good. Now, do that again, but this time count slowly to three as you inhale, hold it for another three seconds and then exhale to the count of three. Keep your eyes closed and keep breathing that way until I tell you to stop.”
Dahlia did as he directed, feeling mildly ridiculous standing in front of this man doing breathing exercises with her eyes closed. Yet it did help her racing heart to slow. Her shoulders, which she hadn’t realized she’d been hunching, relaxed a little.
Feeling calmer, she opened her eyes and smiled. “Thanks. That did help.”
He frowned. “I didn’t tell you to stop, Dahlia. Or to speak. You will continue until I say so.”
She very nearly protested that she was fine. They could move on. But she caught herself in time, remembering the rule about obeying him to the letter. She closed her eyes again and refocused on the breathing exercise.
In, one, two, three… Hold, one, two, three… Out, one, two, three…
Finally, he said, “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did so, both eager and nervous for whatever came next.
“From this moment until the session is over,” Hayden said, his voice deepening, “you will not speak unless I ask you a direct question. The only caveat is if you want to end the session. Understood?”
Her first impulse was to protest. How did one learn without asking questions? But she reminded herself she’d agreed to this, and she was determined to see it through.
“Okay. I got it. No speaking unless spoken to.”
“Good. Next directive: for the duration of the session, you will address me in a respectful tone, answering only what I ask, without embellishment or commentary. And you will address me as Sir when you respond. Do you understand?”
Dahlia was thrilled and scandalized in equal measure by this command. How did she reconcile this new version of Hayden with the progressive, sensitive man she knew? Did he really expect her to address him as if he were her boss—as if heownedher?
Just do it,she counseled herself.Stop second-guessing him and just obey.
“Yes…Sir,” she managed, unable to stop the heat from rising yet again into her cheeks.
