“You will.”
Firing that last warning over his bow, Violet flounced out without another word or fleeting glance, more regal than any queen in history. She commanded the room for several long seconds after the door slammed shut behind her, the scent of her perfume and her simmering fury lingering on the air.
“That is some woman,” Evander murmured appreciatively. “Maybe we should give this sucker a refund, Eli. She’s going to eat him up, spit out the bones, and build a mansion with them.”
“No. No refunds.” Turning his calculating gaze on Reaux, Elias smiled slowly—a masculine version of Violet’s sinister one curving his lips. “I’m intrigued as to how this will play out. Him and her together, twenty-four-seven? There might be romance in the air after all.”
“Or murder. Violet looked like she wanted to commit some—three to be exact.”
Reaux leaned back in his chair and grinned. “The money will be transferred, and I’ll refuse any attempt to refund it. My woman is worth every cent, trust me. Now, it is customary to celebrate a mutually beneficial deal with cigars and bourbon, yes?”
Elias laughed. “Van, you get the cigars, I’ll get the bourbon.”
“Callie is going to kill us.”
“She can try.”
Chapter Three
Violet
At nine a.m. the next morning, she stepped onto her porch, dressed to kill and in a similar mood. She’d spent the evening reading an email from Elias, outlining the details of the deal Boudreaux had wrangled out of her bosses.
To say she was unhappy about it was an understatement—it was lucrative for them, for him, and for her if she cared about the hefty percentage of the fee allocated to her.
All she needed to do was tolerate the fucker living with her for a goddamn month as her full-time submissive. Honestly, the money wasn’t of interest despite how well it would pad out her retirement fund; if not for her pride, she would have told Eli where to stick his deal.
What she wouldn’t tolerate was Boudreaux thinking she was running scared.
He didn’t have that much power over her, not anymore.
Sleep had mainly evaded her through the course of the night, adding to her discourteous mood. The restless hours weren’t wasted, however—she’d spent them concocting a scene that would take her ex down several lofty pegs and make him think twice about continuing with this farce.
By the time she was done with him, he’d never want to ejaculate again.
Pulling the long red overcoat tighter around her, she cinched the belt around her waist and gave Boudreaux a disinterested glance. “At least you’re on time. I expect my subs to walk three feet behind me, head bowed, hands clasped at the base of your spine. Think you can manage that?”
“Anything you ask, I will do, my queen.”
“Less of that shit,” she snapped, unwilling to be fooled by his charm. Sidestepping around him, she descended the porch steps and set a leisurely pace along the gravel path toward the Dungeon. “I know your game, Boudreaux. Maybe you’ve wormed your way in with Evander and Elias, but then I’d expect nothing less. It’s what you do, wherever you go. I refuse to be your prize here, no matter how much money you throw at the people around me.”
“If this is a game, beignet, it is for keeps.”
She almost snorted. “Lost your chance for keeps, Boudreaux, when you chose the allure of submissives who could satisfy you more than I could. You might think you’ve got me where you want me, but the reality is, I’m in the seat of power now. It’s my mercy you’ll abide by, my heart that’s locked in the vault. If you don’t like it, I’m sure Frank will scurry home from his vacation to drive your wounded ego back to Louisiana.”
The crunch of boots on gravel behind her indicated he was sticking with her so far. “We’re not at the end of our game, Violet. This is only the beginning. Believing you’ve already won is a dangerous victory.”
“What do I care? All you’ve bought is my time, Boudreaux. Not my body, not my heart, and by the time I’m through with you, I’ll reclaim the piece of my soul I foolishly surrendered to you.” Violet didn’t break her stride as she turned onto the main path, nodding in greeting to a couple of guests presumably going to the restaurant for breakfast. “Hell, after we’re finished this morning, I’ll own yours—what little of it is left after you sold it to the devil.”
“Ask and it’s yours.”
“I prefer to take it.”
He had the gall to laugh. “Painfully, I presume? Dragging it from my exhausted body inch by agonizing inch?” He muttered something in bastardized French under his breath. “I’m not afraid to submit, Mistress, nor am I too proud. My journey here began with you, and I’m not returning home without you. Let me know if you need me to continue to repeat that.”
She stopped dead, whirling to face him with an eyebrow lifted. “Was that attitude?”
“Attitude?Moi?” There he was, his true self gleaming in his eyes, barely restrained.
