"Already on it." I start making calls, coordinating with Andy and the FBI to pull anyone connected to the surveillance operation into protective custody. It takes hours, but by late evening, we've got potential targets secured.
Which means Fontaine's options are narrowing. And when a professional killer runs out of easy targets, he starts taking risks.
Simone appears in the doorway to my office. She's changed into comfortable clothes, hair loose around her shoulders.
"Still nothing?"
"He's in the wind. We've got surveillance watching known associates, protection on potential targets. Now we wait for him to make a move."
She wraps her arms around herself. "What happens to us when this is over? When you're not my bodyguard anymore?"
The question catches me off guard. Not the content, but the timing. She's been thinking about this, building up to asking.
"You're reducing what we have to a job title." I stand, move around the desk. "I'm not your bodyguard. I'm the man who's claimed you."
"But the job brought us together. The crisis. What if that's all this is?"
"You think I fuck clients?" The bluntness makes her flinch. "You think I tie them up, make them submit, learn everything that makes them break and beg? That sound like standard protection protocol to you?"
"No, but?—"
"No buts. This started as a job. It stopped being just a job at Dominion when I felt you let go for real." I move into her space,back her against the doorframe. "What scares you isn't whether this is real. It's that you know it is."
Her breath catches. "What if the dynamic only worked because I needed protection? What if I only submitted because circumstances demanded it?"
"Bullshit." I cup the back of her neck, feel her pulse jump under my palm. "You never needed protection. You needed someone you could trust enough to stop fighting. Someone who wouldn't let you negotiate or perform or maintain control while pretending to surrender."
"Luc—"
"I claimed you because I wanted you. Not because it was the job. Not because you needed saving. Because when you finally let go, I knew exactly what you'd been chasing for years." My thumb strokes along her jaw. "And I'm not giving that up when this is over. Question is whether you're brave enough to choose it when you're not forced to."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she reaches up, covers my hand with hers. "I'm terrified of choosing this. Of it being real."
"Good. You should be. This is real. Not performance, not scene negotiation. Real power exchange with someone who's not going to accommodate your boundaries when you're using them to avoid actual surrender."
"That's not fair."
"It's completely fair." I lean in close enough that she feels my breath against her lips. "You've spent years performing submission. Getting close enough to chase the high without actually giving up control. I'm asking you to choose it for real. To surrender because you want to, not because circumstances force you."
Her pupils dilate. Breath coming faster. The same physiological response I've catalogued through every scenewe've done, but this time there's no operational necessity driving it. Just her, deciding whether she's brave enough to want this.
"Show me," she whispers.
I don't ask for clarification. Don't need to. I scoop her up, carry her to my bedroom, kick the door closed behind us. She makes a startled sound but doesn't protest. Just wraps her arms around my neck and holds on.
I set her on her feet beside the bed. "Strip."
Her hands shake slightly as she pulls off her shirt, then her leggings. The hesitation is different than before. This isn't about following commands during a protection detail. This is about choosing to submit when she doesn't have to.
When she's naked, I circle her slowly, taking in every line, every curve. Her nipples tighten under my gaze. The flush is spreading across her chest. I let her feel my hunger for her. "On the bed. On your back."
She climbs onto the mattress and lies back. I strip off my own clothes, watching her watch me. Her gaze tracks every movement, lingering on my cock already hard for her. Her pupils are dilating.
I settle beside her on the bed, one hand sliding up her inner thigh. Feel her muscles tense under my palm. "Since this is about you choosing, you're going to show me exactly how much you want this. You're going to put that pretty mouth on my cock and prove this isn't about the job."
She shifts immediately, no hesitation. Positions herself between my legs, looking up at me for permission.
"Take what you want." My hand settles in her hair. "Show me."
