This continued for another week, Thomas working late or Lauren busy with performances. There were business dinners. Charity luncheons. And no sex. She'd taken to running longer and faster every morning, desperate to burn off her rising sexual frustration and anxiety. It's not like he forgot, she thought grimly. Thomas Williams, Jaguar Holding's terrible Number Two never forgotanything.
"AH!" Lauren jumped a foot when one of the musicians in the cello section tapped her on the shoulder.
"What on earth is going on with you?" Michael chuckled, but she could read a little concern in his gaze. He was one of the younger members of LSO, having joined just a couple of years before Lauren. He'd always been good about quietly explaining procedures when she wasn't certain about what to do. "You've been so jumpy for the last few days."
"I'm sorry," she groaned, taking the sheet music from him with a nod, "I dunno... just on pins and needles for some reason."
Michael laughed, picking up his cello case and heading for the exit with her. "Something at home? You're a newlywed, right?"
Forcing a bland smile, Lauren nodded. No way in hell could she mention a word about her life outside of the orchestra. This was her safe place, where things made sense and she felt confident. She tried not to think about Thomas, The Corporation when she was here. At all. "So are you staying the night here in Brighton?" Most of the musicians were being put up at a couple of local hotels.
"I was planning to," he agreed, "but I'm sure you're eager to get home. Are you at least staying for the afterparty?"
Lauren groaned internally. She desperately wanted to, one of her greatest idols was the guest conductor for the week - Riccardo Chailly from the Berlin Philharmonic, and she was dying to hear him talk. He was brilliant and fascinating. "I'd like to," she admitted, "but..."
It was then of course that Chuck made his appearance. "Are you ready to leave, Miss Lauren?" Her ever-present well-suited shadow reached for her cello case. His dispassionate gaze alternated between her and a suddenly nervous Michael.
Suddenly making up her mind, Lauren lifted her chin a little. "I'd really like to stay for the afterparty. I'm just going to call Thomas." She watched her bodyguard's brow raise as if she'd suggested tearing off her clothes and running screaming through the orchestra pit, but he nodded stiffly. Dialing her husband, Lauren frowned when it went to voicemail. "Hi, Thomas, um, there's an afterparty tonight to honor Conductor Chailly, and I'd really like to go. I um..." she sighed, feeling like a 17-year-old asking to stay out till midnight. "Anyway, I'll be home late, unless you have a problem with- unless there's a problem, just let me know, okay? Thanks. L-" The girl stopped short. She'd been about to say "Love you."
Omigod what's wrong with you?she chastised herself, she was used to signing off in such a way with good friends. But to Thomas? Omigod. What would he even do if she said such a thing? This was a business arrangement! Besides, she didn't love him, so... With a sigh, Lauren went to change out of her stage dress.
Lounging in the backseat while Chuck and Aimes spoke quietly in the front, Lauren was pleasantly drunk without falling into loud and sloppy. Without quite letting herself see the seriousness of it, she knew her day drinking from Thomas's excellent wine cellar was teaching her how to hold her liquor, more careful about how she spoke and moved. Tonight had been fun. She'd had a chance to stand with the little group listening to Herr Chailly speak- of the flow of the seasons, the movement of time and the rotation of the earth and how music ruled them all and played through nature and the sky and the oceans. When he got very excited, he'd lapse into German, so a bit was lost in the translation but it was so beautiful, his animated face and it made Lauren feel like she was part of something larger, grander.
It had been such a long time since she'd felt she belonged. Belonged to anything but Thomas, anyway.
As they pulled into the driveway, the stately house was dark, save a couple of lights on the third floor. Getting out, Lauren eyed them curiously. She recognized the elegant drapes of their bedroom, but the dim light from the window next to it... she'd never been in that room. Thomas dismissed it once as "storage," but it was locked like several other doors in the mansion she shared with her mysterious husband. The light went out as she unlocked the door, and she wondered what Thomas had been doing in there. Suddenly picturing Blackbeard's wives, hanging from hooks by their hair and surrounded by chests filled with gold, the girl shuddered a little and went inside. Thomas was standing just inside their dressing room, removing the cuff links from his dress shirt. The pale blue shirt was unbuttoned, and Lauren shivered a little as she looked at the muscled lines of his abdomen. Just drunk enough to throw caution to the winds, she attempted a sexy stroll across the bedroom. It didn't look too bad until she tripped on the ottoman near the bed and fell on it, rapidly adjusting herself to pose seductively. God, she missed his...
"I hear the performance went well, darling," her beautiful and exasperating husband had the slightest smile on his face. Lauren wasn't sure if he'd seen her stumble over the furniture. It was never clear with him because Thomas's usual expression was one of urbane amusement.
"It was wonderful," Lauren gushed a little, "I felt like we were finally performing Herr Chailly's vision."
He glanced over, casually stripping out of his trousers, tight ass perfectly encased in his black boxer briefs.At least he's wearing underwear today,Lauren thought dimly. The sight of that gigantic dick that had been denied her for eight straight days would have been almost too much to bear. She hated needing him like this, craving the feel of him inside her, on top of her.
"...was enjoyable?"
Lauren tore her stare from his crotch, looking up at his definitely amused expression. Clearly amused, now. "Um, I'm sorry?"
Thomas chuckled now, striding to the bed and pulling the cream-colored comforter down. "Did you enjoy the party?"
Flushing, she nodded rapidly. "Yes, thank you, it was so fun to hear the conductor talk about his experiences. Such a life!"
Looking at her bright smile, Thomas was startled to feel two things, tenderness at his bride's sweet, excited face and resentment that it not there because of him. Shoving down the odd feeling, he smiled blandly and let her finish describing her evening. "To bed now, darling," he urged, "we have so much to do tomorrow."
"Oh?" Lauren felt like she suddenly went on point, like one of those hunting dogs. A clue? A hint from Thomas? But he was already asleep when she returned from brushing her teeth. With a sigh, she curled around a pillow, knowing perfectly well she'd be wrapped around her dark and beautiful Sir in a tangle of arms and legs by the time they woke in the morning.
She felt a little more settled because Thomas woke her to run with him, he was amused at her sleepy whining to stay in bed and simply pulled her from her blanket nest anyway. Despite his comment the evening before about "So much to do," Number Two left the house with his Brunello Cucinelli briefcase without another word. Irritably swallowing some aspirin to tone down her hangover from the night before, Lauren practiced, feeling responsible and then went down for a salad and a bottle of wine. It was ironic, she mused, it was surprisingly easy to keep the huge house clean. Thomas was terrifyingly tidy and expected the same from her. Add in a grim Polish housekeeper who came twice a week to clean the house top to bottom while giving Lauren a mean-looking side-eye, the place was perfection. Granted, she mused, pouring another glass of Conte Fini Pinot Grigio, there were certain rooms the intimidating Mrs. Kowalczyk did not enter. The basement. Lauren had tried almost daily to see if Thomas had somehow left that door unlocked, but no. His office, the woman cleaned but if she growled if the new Mrs. Williams tried to put a toe over the threshold. But not the room next to the master bedroom suite. Thinking back over her ill-advised agreement from that particularly passionate night, Lauren's glass froze halfway to her mouth. She'd agreed to all those ropes and spankings and buzzing toys, as long as they were alone.
"Shiiit," she groaned. "He's got a sex dungeon. Oh, shit! Shit!"
Suddenly frantic to find this terrifying lair and see what her wicked Sir had in mind for her, Lauren put down the wine and wiped her damp palms on her thin jersey dress. "Basement?" she mumbled, "That's a good place for a sex dungeon, right?" Naturally, the only door leading to the basement remained stubbornly locked. Absently trying a couple of other rooms, "Really, who needs four floors worth of rooms?" she mumbled crossly, the girl checked them all until she stood before the door of the chamber next to Thomas's bedroom. There was only the one door leading in or out, no attached entrance from the master suite. Nervously chewing on her lower lip, Lauren reached out a hand. "It'll be locked," she mumbled, "just like always but at least I checked, so-" The knob turned easily under her hand and the heavy door swung open.
At first glance, it was simply a beautiful guest bedroom. Slightly darker gray walls, heavy, elegant drapes drawn back from the floor to ceiling windows. A huge fireplace and the bed. A gigantic four-poster bed made from carved black ironwood. "Olea capensis," Lauren mumbled, remembering Thomas telling her about an African tree species that was said to be nearly impossible to break because of its iron-like durability. It looked like a normal, albeit huge and intimidating piece of furniture. The comforter was silk, a heavy burgundy and green brocade throw. Many pillows... she eyed them nervously. Some round, so different shapes that made her question their use. Walking closer, she could see the nearly hidden hooks seemingly everywhere- similar to the few Thomas had immobilized her from in his bedroom. There were crossbeams at the top, half-covered by the elegant pale drapes. And, her lips twisted, a round, comfortable cushion on the floor on the left side, the side Thomas slept on. There was an antique trunk at the foot of the bed, Lauren reached out to open it, then pulled back her hand. She was this close to losing her nerve. A beautifully designed armoire in the same wood as the bed. An elegant leather couch in a weathered brown. Two large wingback chairs in the same leather but designed in a slightly different shape than usual. A long ottoman between them, at least five feet long. And two cabinets inset into the wall with antique iron latches. It looked like an elegantly designed bedroom, fit for a prince. But everything was just... slightly off. Perhaps it was her paranoia? But the room was the only one in Thomas's house with a thick, lush carpet underneath, rather than hardwood. Her steps were soundless in the thick plush. Looking up, Lauren could see more subtly placed hooks in the ceiling, and as her heart started pounding, others inset into the walls. Silently padding over to the windows, she pulled the heavy curtain back to see the windows were double-paned, blocking out any sound from the distant traffic outside. And blocking any sounds made inside from reaching the street.
"Ah." Lauren froze in place like a rabbit suddenly spotted by a hawk. "I see you've found my playroom." Stiffly turning around, she found Thomas, still gorgeous and intimidating in his navy-blue bespoke suit. His dark eyes were watching her closely, traveling in a leisurely way up and down her body and watching how his bride kept nervously wiping her sweaty palms on the skirt of her dark pink dress. Straightening and walking inside the room, he paused for a moment as Lauren took a step back. "Are you afraid, little one?"
"Yes," she answered honestly, far past nervous and rapidly approaching terror.
"Hmmm..." he pondered, hands behind his back as he walked around her, leaning in to smell the luscious mixture of her fear and some arousal. "I have so been looking forward to introducing you to this room. Do you remember your promise to me?"
