"I don't hide it. I just don't—" I stop, frustrated. "It's not exactly an appropriate conversation to have with your boss."
"We're past that. We're snowed in and drinking spiked eggnog in a Christmas lodge. The rules are different."
I laugh, a little breathless. "Are they?"
He turns back to face me. "Tell me what you like about the dynamic in your book."
My pulse hammers. "Why?"
"Because I want to understand you."
The honesty in his voice cracks something open in my chest. I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling my knees up. "For me, I’m drawn to Daddy Dom dynamics for the emotional dynamics. These power exchange relationships have trust and open communication. When the two characters consent to allowing one to lead with consistent care, structure, affection and discipline, the other is free to be who she really is. There’s something comforting about stability and protection from a partner. Something thrilling about the give and take of rules and consequences. I don’t know…”
“I think you do know. You are making sense, sweetheart. All of that is why Daddy Dom relationships work. Is that something you are looking for? Something you want outside of the books you read? Or is it just a fantasy?”
“No one has asked me what I want before. I want... someone who sees me. Not the glitter and the smile that I put on for everyone, but the parts underneath. Someone who makes me feel—" I hesitate.
"Safe," he supplies quietly.
"Safe," I echo. "Safe to be who I am inside and wanted. Not despite being a lot, but because of it."
He's quiet for a beat. Then: "You think you're too much."
"I know I am. I'm loud and chaotic and I talk constantly and?—"
"Holly."
The way he says my name stops me cold. Firm. Final. Warning.
"You're not too much," he says. "You're just surrounded by people who can't handle you."
The words land like a match in dry kindling. I stare at him, throat tight.
He crosses the room slowly, sits in the chair across from the bed. "I had a relationship like that once. The dynamic you're reading about. It ended badly."
"What happened?"
"She wanted the rules and structure, but not the honesty that comes with it. When things got real, she ran." He runs a hand through his hair. "I swore I wouldn't do it again. It's easier to control a business than a heart."
"That's sad," I say softly.
"It's safe."
"Safe isn't the same as happy."
His gaze sharpens. "And you're happy? Playing the cheerful elf while reading about submission in secret?"
I flinch, but don't look away. "No. But at least I'm trying."
The silence stretches between us, charged and raw.
Finally, he leans forward, elbows on his knees. "What would you do if you had someone who could handle you? All of you?"
My breath catches. "I don't know. I've never had the chance to find out."
"Maybe that's the problem. You keep waiting for permission to want what you want."
"And you keep waiting for everything to be perfect before you try."
