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“And now you’re one of the biggest companies on the East Coast.” My chest puffs up at the pride in her voice.
“Right. Well, I can’t exactly claim to be the best if I’m not out there working with my crews. I spend a couple of days a week in the office, usually on the weekends, because I want my guys to get as much overtime pay as possible.” I hear her sigh again and chuckle. “But for the most part, I work with one crew a week. Make sure everyone has what they need, take care of shit that would float across my desk eventually, but on-the-spot works better for them.”
“Plus, it keeps you in shape.” She giggles and winks at me as she appears with the dress on, the kitten-toe pumps still adorning her feet.
“Fuck, that’s gorgeous.” Sliding to the side of the bed, I curl my finger to entice her over before spinning it so she’ll show me everything.
“How’d you know I’d like this style?” She peers at me over her shoulder. The plunge in the back goes to the curve above her ass. “I can’t wear a bra with this dress. Any of them, really.”
“You want the truth?” She nods as she faces me again, the flare of the skirt twirling with her. “I had an idea of what I wanted you to look like. To wear. I wanted feminine with a hint of sexy. I wanted soft and sweet but powerful.” Standing to my full height, I love that she’s so much smaller than me. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulders, even in the pumps. “I wanted a woman who could stand on her own two feet, show the world she’s endlessly girly but could still take care of herself.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility for a wardrobe.” I nod. “And you see all of that in me?” I nod again. Her chin raises. “Even though I’m none of those things.”
My eyes narrow on her. “How aren’t you?” I want all the confidences she’s willing to share with me. She shrugs, lowering her gaze. While I love the submission in her, I hate the self-doubt. “You raised your younger sisters when your world fell apart. Ensured they had somewhere to go when the system cut them loose, and even now, I know you’re still worrying about them. Despite their encouragement to give us a shot. How is that not the definition of strength and power?”
Little by little, her chin raises, and she gives me her eyes again. Tears pool in their blue depths, and I cup her jaw in my hands as she speaks. “Because now I’m giving it all to you. How am I any of those things when I’m handing them over?”
“Oh, sweetheart, you handing me the reins doesn’t take away from anything you’ve grown into or achieved. Giving me the power only shows that you can stand on your own two feet while also leaning on me and trusting me enough to give you what you desire.” I wish she could see herself through my eyes.
Clearing her throat, she delivers a clipped nod before standing up taller. “You’ve picked my wardrobe, quite wonderfully I might add. I still get to see my sisters, my only loyal friend is Callie, and I’m able to work. What exactly is changing?” Her head tilts, and a gentle smile flutters across her lips.
“The when, where, and how.” Her eyes roll. I reach around and swat her bratty ass. “The punishment.” I wink, and she does it again.
“Scenario: You’re going out with friends. Callie or another friend invites me out, and you tell me I can’t go, but you still plan to go out; why?”
“Depending on the situation, the who, the where, the when, I would say, generally, for your safety.”
“So, not out of punishment for something?”
“No. Never. If you do something I expressly order you not to, there will be a punishment, but I’ll be living it with you. If I tell you, you can’t go out on a girl’s night, it’s because I’m either worried about your safety or I don’t trust someone you’re going out with.”
“Can I assume you’ll want to meet my friends?” I nod. “And if you don’t like or trust one of them, do I have to give them the axe, or will you trust me enough to make that decision?”
I ponder the question for a minute. “I don’t want to lie to you or lead you on. If I don’t like them simply because our personalities clash, that’s your choice. If I don’t trust them, I will give you the reason, and Valentine, I intend to run a full background check on all of them. There isn’t a chance in the world that I will risk your life.”
Screwing her lips side to side, she eventually nods her head, allowing me to breathe easier. Sitting on the bed, hands on her hips, she surprises me when she asks, “Can you find people?”
“I can hire someone to. Why?” Tears immediately pour from her eyes as she explains her fears about her sister Autumn, how each of her sisters responded to what she told them about us, and why she was so miserable at work.
After comforting her, helping her out of her dress, and tucking her into bed with me, I wait until she’s asleep before calling my investigator. He’s former CIA, and I know if anyone can find the girl, it’ll be him. I just hope it’s with good news and not devastation.
CHAPTER11
Valentine
When I woke up this morning, it was to a note from Roman informing me that he had to go in to work early because they had a break-in on one of his sites, but breakfast was in the oven, and my outfit for work was hanging inside the closet.
After showering and cleaning up, I slip into the modest black dress and surprisingly comfortable flats. The support in them is incredible. Then I go in search of breakfast.
Hunting for the coffee machine, I find another note stating, “no more caffeine”.Cruel man.If he didn’t say that he’d explain more tonight, I might have ignored him. His promise that everything is for my own good is what keeps me from disobeying.
In the deepest parts of my soul, I want to please this man because I know he feels the exact same way as I do. Everything in our relationship is about each other. I don’t have to choose between him or my sisters or my friends or work. Do I want to remain a waitress forever? No, but until I know what I want, I’m happy doing it.
As soon as I open the oven, I inhale the tantalizing aromas of peppers, eggs, and hot sausage. I don’t recall telling him of my love for spicy food, but he nailed it. The dish is still warm as I pull it out, so I sit down at the bar with a glass of water and send him a picture of me taking a bite.
Me: Perfection! How’d you know I love spicy?
He doesn’t answer right away, and I’m not worried; I know he’s busy. I polish off the dish in no time before cleaning up after myself, grabbing my purse, and heading out.
