Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance) (14 page)

I opened my eyes.

I
watched as the snowflakes fell into my car through the smashed window of my passenger door window.

Funny, I don't remember the window of my passenger door breaking. When did that happen?

Oh, it doesn't matter, Meghan. Just go back to sleep.

Sleep? Wait a minute! When did I go to bed?

Fuck, I'm not in bed. I'm in my car. That really is snow falling through my broken passenger window.
Where the fuck am I?

Then it all came back to me. Driving to Tristan's house. The driveway. The gorgeous girl. Heading back home.

Shit, I must have spun off the road. And knocked myself out or something.

I put my hand up to my head. It felt wet. I looked at my fingers. Red. Blood.

Shit.

I tried to move but found that gravity was pulling me to my left instead of down. Something was blocking my windshield so I couldn't see beyond a foot in front of it. I turned my head to look out my driver's side window but all I could see was snow.

Fuck, my car is on its side! And I could be in the middle of the highway! I can't even tell.

Okay, Meghan, you've got to
do
something. Can't just sit here.

I reached to undo my seatbelt. As I did so, I heard glass crinkling all around. That must be what's left of my passenger side window.

Once the seatbelt was undone, I now had to figure out how to get out of this deathtrap.

The driver's side door was out, being mashed into the ground. It was going to have to be the passenger side door, which had become the roof.

God, what have I done?

As I was about to begin the process of climbing up and out... which felt impossible because I seemed to be weak and my head was beginning to throb... I heard something.

What was that?

There it was again. Sounds like a voice.

"Hello!" I said without much volume. "Hello!" Not much better, but all I could muster.

I heard the voice again. It was a man's voice.

"Meghan!" it said.

I know that voice. I'd know that voice anywhere. The only voice in the world that could get me to enter an empty house and put on a Bluetooth earpiece.

"Meghan!" it said.

"I'm here!" I said.

"Meghan!"

"Here! I'm here!"

I felt the car shake. Then I saw Tristan's face up above me, looking down through the passenger side window.

"Meghan, thank God!" he said.

"Mentor!" I said. "Mentor."

I felt like my voice was going. In fact, I felt like a lot of things were going. The world had become fluid-like. It ebbed and flowed like the ocean. I felt nauseous.

"Meghan!" I heard him say again.

"Here, mentor", I said as everything spun nicely out of control.

"Whoa!" I said as my eyes flashed open. God, that's bright! And what the fuck is that smell?

"You weren't kidding about the smelling salts," Tristan said.

"Ammonia inhalants", said the voice of another man.

I looked to my left. A man in a shirt, tie, and long white coat stood on my left. Tristan was on my right. I was surrounded by a cordoned-off curtain. I know this place. I'm in a hospital.

"Welcome back," said the man. "I'm Doctor Faust. You're going to be fine, Meghan."

Faust? Really?

I looked to my right. Tristan looked sternly down at me.

"What's my name, Meghan?" said Tristan.

"Mentor," I said.

Dr. Faust frowned at that.

"No, Meghan", said Tristan. "What's my name?"

"Tristan Slade, entrepreneur," I said. "Formerly Tristan Sladzcyk of Elgin, Ohio."

I'm sure I messed up Sladzcyk but he didn't correct me.

"Hey," said Dr. Faust, "you're on that show
Big Deals
, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Tristan.

"I thought you looked familiar!"

"Could we please attend to the patient, doctor?"

"Oh, of course. There is no concussion," said Dr. Faust. "Just a bump on the head. Losing consciousness is normal. No need to worry. Now I just want to make sure your reflexes are in good order, Meghan."

He tapped my knees, felt my feet, took my pulse, listened to my heartbeat, shone a bright light into my eyes, and checked my ears.

"You're fine," he said. "You're very lucky you have this guy. He risked his life to save you. You're also lucky because where the glass cut your forehead isn't long enough to need stitches." He turned to Tristan. "Just make sure she gets some rest. Nothing too taxing for a couple of days, okay?"

"Thank you, doctor," said Tristan.

"No problem," said the doctor. "Hey, this may not be the time or place but I have an idea for a company. I've had it for a few years. Do you mind if I run it by you sometime?"

Tristan reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.

"This is a direct line to my private secretary. Call and make an appointment. Use the code word Meghan."

"Code word," said Dr. Faust as he smiled at me. "Wow. Feels so dramatic."

"Thank you, doctor," said Tristan.

"Yes. No. I mean, thank
you
."

He put out his hand and Tristan shook it. He turned back to me.

"You're a very lucky young woman," he said and disappeared through the curtain.

"Your clothes are over here," said Tristan. His tone was distant. Maybe irritated. Don't blame him. "Put them on and then we'll go."

He stepped through the curtain and I was alone. Fuck, I've pissed him off.

I sat up.
Ow!
My head hurt. That's what driving in a snowstorm gets you, Meghan. Not to mention all the vodka I had earlier. Shit, I drove drunk, didn't I? Bad. Very bad.

I found a mirror and looked at myself. My forehead was bandaged up. My eyes were bloodshot and I had dark blue circles under my eyes. My skin was bluish and my lips were red. I looked like a long-lost cousin of the Cullen family from
Twilight
.

I got my clothes on, found my bag... wow, he actually got my bag out of the wreck... and walked outside the curtain.

His arms were folded and he was facing away from me. Just like the first time I saw him in the office with the floor-to-ceiling windows. I wished we could go back to that day and start all over again.

He turned, the stern look still there.

"Are you ready?" he said.

"Yes," I said.

"Let's go."

We walked out through the quiet emergency room. Back into the falling snow.

We were at Beverly Hospital. I recognized it. I had been here once before a long time ago.

We got in his big SUV...
cavernous
would actually be a better word... and he started the engine.

"I'm sorry, mentor," I said.

"We'll talk later," he said. "And stop calling me mentor. Training is over for us."

I felt a stab of pain in my head. Or was it my heart? I wanted to cry but I didn't know if I had enough energy. But I didn't want him to see me cry over him, either.

Training is over for us.

As the snowflakes fell through the night air, I drifted into a sadness that I haven't felt in a long time. It was like a loss of some sort. Like a part of my life was over.

I blew it, didn't I?

We drove in silence. His SUV handled the snow quite well. Before I knew it, we were back in his circular driveway.

He parked and climbed out without saying a word. I guess I'm supposed to follow. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?

I opened my door and stepped out into the snow. I felt a tear fall down my cheek. I followed in his footsteps all the way to the door, which he had left open for me.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. This wasn't how I had hoped to return to this house. I wanted things back the way they were. I wanted to show up for submissive training and get back into the dark room, happily trapped in the stockade.

He had vanished into his kitchen. I heard him clanging around in there. Pots and pans, it sounded like. I followed the sound.

I stood at the entrance to the kitchen and just watched him. He was poetry in motion. He had shallots, garlic, and mushrooms out on the countertop. He diced them with the flair and speed of a master chef. He noticed me looking at him.

"Sit," he said, motioning to one of the chairs in front of the low bar top attached to the island on which he was working.

I did. The kitchen was huge. Funky yellow lamps hung in two rows from a cathedral arch. Two large ceiling fans sat in wait for summer humidity. Everything glistened. The marble countertop. The wood around the glass doors that led out onto a huge patio, now with a foot of snow all around the railing. The ocean beyond was pure black.

"Coffee? Tea? Water?" he said.

"Water would be great," I said.

I wanted more vodka but I'd better not take the chance right now. He reached into the giant refrigerator and took out a bottle of spring water. He put it down in front of me with a glass. Where his fingers touched the bottle were naked spots in the condensation. Would those fingertips ever touch me again?

I poured the water into the glass and drank some. God, that was good! Best water I ever tasted. I gulped the rest of it down.

He put rice in a rice cooker with some water and turned it on. Then he walked back to the refrigerator, got another water, and brought it to me.

I opened the new bottle and drank some, skipping the glass this time.

I watched him as he trimmed broccoli rabe. I wanted to take out my cell phone and video him so I would have a memento of this time. I was pretty sure that once this snow cleared and he took me home I'd never see him again.

He looked at me looking at him.

"You can go in the lounge and put the TV on if you want," he said. There was a new sound to his voice. It was troubled and distant. "The remote is on the right-hand bookshelf."

"Do you want me to?" I said.

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm just making dinner. Thought you might be bored."

Am I nothing to him? Is he even aware of me sexually?

"If it's okay with you, I'd rather just sit here," I said.

"Suit yourself," he said.

Every time I look at him I lose control of my bodily fluids. Even in my damaged state. Why is it that he doesn't feel the same way? He'll never feel the same way, will he?

Oh God, this is so fucking hopeless. I am such an idiot. I should have stayed with Jake.

No
, said a voice from somewhere. I love Jake, but Jake wasn't right. There was something missing.

That's what I have to figure out. That's what I need to ask Meredith Zycroft about when I see her. This man making me dinner right now has something I need... something that Jake lacks.

What is it? And why am I so drawn to it?

But then again what does Meredith Zycroft know? She can't even get her lipstick right.

As I sat there sipping my water, I felt like a little girl. Even though I've officially been an adult for four years, I am a little girl to him.

He just chopped. Chop chop chop.

He poured olive oil... at least I think it was olive oil, I'm not much of a cook... into a skillet. He placed two chicken breasts into the pan.

Once they were browned on both sides, he lifted them out and set them aside. Then he added the shallots, garlic, and mushrooms to the skillet with some flour. Once everything was brown he added some white wine to deglaze, scraping up the fond with a wooden spatula. Then he added two squares of butter. Once it was bubbly again, he put the chicken breasts back and reduced the heat.

He placed the rice, chicken, and broccoli rabe, which had been cooking in a separate skillet with some garlic, on two plates. He added some fresh chopped parsley to the pan sauce and poured it over the chicken. He took both plates over to the bar and sat down next to me.

We ate in silence.

His face was strained. I couldn't tell if it was because he didn't want to speak or wanted to speak but just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He never looked me in the eye. He remained focused on his food.

Every move he made was deliberate and with purpose. No waste. Like an efficient machine.

I wanted to apologize again but I decided to wait until he said something.

It was a long wait.

We finished, then he cleared the plates and put them in the dishwasher.

Without a sound, he motioned for me to follow him. I did.

I soon found myself in a huge bedroom with its own bath. There was a large window but all I could see outside was snow and blackness.

"There are some clothes in here," he said as he opened up the panel in the wall. There, on hangers was an assortment of female outfits in multiple sizes.

Hmm!

"Do you need anything?" he said. "I'm going to do some work in my office and then go to bed."

"No, I'm fine," I said.

"Good. Find me if you need anything."

Find me if you need anything.

How about your cock in my mouth? Or twat. Or ass. I don't care where, just in me.

"Thank you for dinner," I said. "It was delicious."

"You're welcome," he said.

"And thank you for rescuing me. I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I never should have come out here and made a fool of myself like that. I hope we can continue like before."

"We'll talk tomorrow."

Then he was gone and I was alone.

I took off my clothes and got in the king-sized bed. I felt lost in it. I pulled the covers up and watched the snow fall outside.