Caught Up In You (Edgeplay Part 2) (3 page)

Anger builds inside me as I take the papers to the leather wingback chair and start to read. Legal jargon aside, the message is straightforward. I cannot tell anyone about anything that happens in private regarding myself and Connor Edge. No blabbing on social networks, blogs, to press of any kind about anything I witness. If I breach this confidentiality, it’s grounds for immediate dismissal, forfeiting my bonus and the possibility of legal action if the offended party deems necessary.

The word witness gives me pause as I conjure all sorts of unsavory activities. “I’m not going to go along with any kind of crime spree.”

Berkowitz raises an eyebrow but merely says. “Page seven, paragraph three.”

I flip to the page and read aloud, “This contract shall be void in the case of illegal activity such as, but not limited to, theft, murder, rape, assault, money laundering, treason, fraud, arson…,” The list went on to cover scenarios I had never imagined. Treason, really?

“As you can see, this is for your benefit as well as his.”

I start over from the beginning, reading every page and trying to keep an open mind but in the end it comes down to whether or not I need to keep my job. “Can I have my own lawyer look this over?” I ask.

Berkowitz appears put out, but he says, “That is your right. Do you wish to call him?”

I don’t even have a lawyer. I just wanted to see what he would say. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Striding to the desk, I flip to the last page, my heart thudding against my ribcage as I scrawl my name on the signature line.

Nodding, the attorney retucks the papers into his briefcase. “The check is yours.”

I bite my lip, feeling scuzzy about accepting Connor’s money when I haven’t earned it. “What exactly is it for?”

 The door to the library opens and Connor strides into the room. He looks incredible in his ash gray suit and a bright blue shirt that matches his eyes. Ignoring me, he focuses on the lawyer. “You satisfied now, Noah?”

“Almost.” He’s back to digging through his briefcase. I stare at Connor, who scowls at Berkowitz. The other man extracts a single sheet of paper and places it on the desk.

“Have her sign this.” The lawyer says.

Connor glances down, and shakes his head once. “No.”

“Connor—,” Berkowitz’s tone turns pleading but Connor crosses his arms over his chest, the very image of defiance.

“I’m not asking that of her.”

“What is it?” I ask, but the men ignore me.

“You’re a wealthy man. I’d think after Shelia—”
“Stop talking.” Connor snaps.

The lawyer makes a disgusted sound. “Fine. But I’m leaving it here in case you come to your senses. Be smart.”

“She’s not like that.” Connor insists.

Berkowitz rounds the desk and gives me a slow up and down, before turning back to Connor. “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

The men shake hands and Berkowitz leaves us, closing us in the library together.

“What was that all about?”

Connor lets out a heavy sigh. “Noah has appointed himself my keeper. This is his way of making sure my ass is covered, legally speaking. I apologize if he offended you.”

I’m still holding the envelope and extend it to him. “I don’t want your money.”

He brushes it aside and clasps my shoulders. “Baily, listen to me. I need to know that you have an out, that if things go wrong you’ll be taken care of.”

The chill is back and I barely suppress a shudder. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. Turning toward the desk, he stares down at the lone paper. “What you just signed is a standard nondisclosure agreement, with a few…alterations. All of my employees are required to do the same, at least the ones that spend time with me on a one to one basis.”

“Okay…” I say slowly. That made sense.

“But this,” Connor picks up the piece of paper. “This is personal. It’s a get out of jail free card for me.”

Taking the paper from him I read slowly. “I, the undersigned, being of sound judgment do hereby swear that everything which transpires between myself and one, Connor Alexander Edge, falls into the category of safe, sane and consensual. I do hereby swear I am a willing participant, actively choosing to partake in any and all sexual activity.”

He snatches it back and I let go because my fingers are numb. “Please explain this to me.” I whisper, my mind too hyped up to really grasp what’s going on.

He paces in front of the desk. “You’re not going to sign it, I won’t let you.”

“Safe, sane and consensual?” I ask.

He stops, turns to face me. “He snagged the phrase from a BDSM club contract. It’s to cover rough sex, or any kind of unusual sexual activity that might result in injury.”

“Oh.” Really, what else can I say to that?

Just say no!
Snarkarella chimes in.
You’re dumber than you look if you sign that.

“Do you understand now? I could beat you and get away with it. Rape you. It wouldn’t matter if you sign this because it’s proof you wanted me to do it. And the very idea of that scares the hell out of me because I’m not always aware of what I’m doing!” His voice teems with frustration.

I swallow. “Okay, maybe we should just, put it away, for a while. Not think about that.” Plucking the paper from his hand, I set it down on the desk, facedown. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

Heaving out a jagged breath, Connor sags into the wingback chair. He appears so tormented that I can’t help moving closer to his side. “Connor, look at me.”

His gaze remains fixed on the fire.

I step in front of him, get in his face. “Out of the two of us, you are the only one who is concerned about hurting me. I’ve felt safe with you right from the start, even before I knew who you were. I trust you.”

His eyes are so expressive. I see the fear there, the self-loathing and even a glimmer of hope. “I don’t know that you should.”

“When I let you tie me up last night—” I don’t get the chance to finish because he explodes out of the chair, knocking me onto my ass.

“No, no, no, Baily! You can’t ever let me do tie you! What if I lose control? Or switch over and forget that I’ve left you like that!”

He’s hit DEFCON two and is en route to full nuclear meltdown.

I have no idea what to do, what to say to reassure him, so I just sit there and wait. God, I loved being pinned down, dominated by him. And he loved doing it, having me at his mercy and giving me incredible pleasure. Maybe if he could remember how wonderful the sex had been, he’d feel better about it. Swallowing, I wait for a break in his tirade before saying, “Connor?”

He stops, sees, me sitting on the floor. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Even when I’m in control around you, I’m really not.”

I’m absurdly pleased by this. He extends a hand to help me to my feet, but catching him off guard I pull him down on top of me.

“I’ll do it.” Brushing my lips along his cheekbone, I whisper in his ear, “I’ll reenact it all with you. I want you to remember how good it is between us.”

He pulls back and closes his eyes, shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank you.”

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Snarkarella cautions.

****

Connor insists on introducing me to the gathered crowd as his “estate manager”. Not one to turn my nose up at a promotion, I smile and nod to every member of the sea of curious faces.

The food is excellent, the wine and good humor flowing freely. A live band is set up in the corner of the ballroom, playing smooth jazz and couples take the floor. Connor greets everyone by name, thanks them for coming to his housewarming party. I gather that many of them have traveled up from the city. Some are even staying through the weekend.

I try my best to keep up, but it’s useless. I’m so not a people person. Eventually, I give up and fall back on the smile and nod like whoever I’m speaking with is the most interesting person on the planet.

“Wherever did Connor find you?” A lady with a blonde beehive asks.

“I grew up here,” I reply, intentionally leaving the answer vague.

“Such lovely country,” she sniffs as though she smells cow shit.

Condescending old bag,
Snarkerella and I think in unison.

“Care to dance?” Connor appears by my side and extends an elbow.

I take his arm and let him lead me away from Senorita Sourpuss but dig my heels in when he clearly intends to lead me out onto the dance floor. “Connor, no. I haven’t danced since the eighth grade shuffle.”

“You trust me, right?” he smirks.

It’s a dirty trick and I call him on it. “You, sure, just not my own two feet.”

Still smirking, he leads me to the floor. Luckily, the band is playing a slow song, so the eighth grade shuffle is sufficient. I lean into him, enjoying the spicy tang of his cologne, the hard feel of his body pressed up against mine.

“Overwhelmed yet?” he asks, pushing a lock of hair back from my face.

“Completely.” I confess. “How do you keep them all straight?”

“Pneumonic devices mostly. The woman you were talking to? She’s been wearing that same hairstyle since the sixties, so mentally, I call her beehive Betty, married to Frank the tank, an Army vet, built like a brick wall.”

“Says the pot to the kettle.” I poke him in the chest.

He grins down at me, but the smile slowly fades, as sexual heat takes hold. “Have I told you how lovely you look this evening?”

I blush, unused to being complimented on anything but my landscaping. “Thank you for the dress.”

“Setting for the diamond. My pleasure.” His eyes are hot. “I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

Though I know we won’t be able to stage our reenactment tonight, I still want to be with him. “Will you come back to the cottage with me?” I don’t want to spend the night here with all his guests milling around.

He opens his mouth to respond but I am tapped on the shoulder by his assistant. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s an urgent phone call for Mr. Edge.” Her expression is so smug I know she isn’t the least bit sorry.

Connor leads me from the dance floor back to our table. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He says, before bringing my hand to his lips and brushing a gentle kiss across my knuckles.

My blush deepens when I realize everyone seated nearby is staring at me.

A short man with a bald pate and a handlebar mustache is the first to approach. “I see that some things never change.”

I take a sip from my water glass. “I beg your pardon?”

The man sits beside me, uninvited. “New house, but the same old Edge. Doesn’t even wait a week, hopping from woman to woman.”

“A day.” The man next to him pipes up. “He just broke up with the starlet yesterday. Damn shame too, she was a looker. But I’m sure the rookie here knows the score.”

I freeze with the glass poised to my lips. These are Connor’s friends, saying such horrible things behind his back? Swallowing the hurt that he just broke up with someone, possibly the blonde I’d seen in the limo yesterday, I interrupt their gossip. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression, but Mr. Edge and I are not involved romantically.”