“Of course I did,” I said dismissively. I’d skimmed the employment contract, anyway.
The non-disclosure and personal conduct agreements, I’d signed with barely a glance.
I would never betray any employer, much less Julian Kilmartin, and conducting myself
professionally was a point of pride with me.
The fingertips of his right hand tapped on the table, rolling from pinkie to index
finger in time with the ticking of the wall clock. Again. And again. And again.
“Hmmm, and now you’re lying.”
I bit my lips, feeling my pulse quicken and my bones go a little bit rubbery. How
did he know? Had I agreed to something I shouldn’t have? Even more alarming, why was
I excited to be caught in a half-truth?
I strove for calm. “What does it matter?”
“If you’d read your contracts, my dear,” he said, his expression as keenly enigmatic
as any Bond villain’s, “you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
The lights flickered, and I twitched nervously.
“Have no fear, my dear Rachel. We have extensive backup power systems if the winds
become too strong to safely operate the turbine.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I lied, “but thanks for the reassurance.”
“Mr. Price emailed your contract copies last night. Did you download them?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good girl.”
His praise set my teeth on edge. “I’m not a girl.”
As if I hadn’t spoken, he continued, “Your assignment for this evening then, Rachel,
is to study your contracts, particularly your personal conduct agreement, and decide
whether or not you wish to honor them. You’re not legally bound to do so, and if you
wish to leave, Dirk will return you to the airport as soon as the roads are passable.
It’s entirely up to you.”
My breath jammed in my throat. He wanted me to
leave
?
“If, however, you decide to fulfill the terms of your contracts, I’ll quiz you over
the content of your personal conduct agreement during breakfast tomorrow and for every
question you answer incorrectly, there will be consequences you won’t enjoy. I will
also expect you to have written out one hundred times,
I will never sign any document without reading every word first
. Handwriting, not typing. You’ll find all the necessary writing supplies in your
desk.”
I gaped at him. “You’re kidding right?”
“Rachel, if you’d read your personal conduct agreement, you would know beyond a shadow
of a doubt that I do not kid about personal assignments.”
“Maybe you didn’t get the memo, Dr. Kilmartin, but I’m not a medical student anymore.
I’m not even a resident—I’m a licensed vascular surgeon. A vascular surgeon
you
hired,” I added pointedly.
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Then why are you treating me this way?” I demanded.
“Because you did a very foolish thing by signing those contracts without reading them!”
he roared as he slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the china and silver.
Numb with shock, I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.
Julian leaned back, his nostrils flaring as he visibly worked to put a leash on his
temper.
“Now, Rachel,” he growled without looking directly at me, “Colin will escort you to
your room, where you will remain until he collects you for breakfast. I suggest you
behave or there will be consequences.”
Colin got up and came around behind me, and I felt the tug on my chair.
When I continued to stare at Julian, he picked up his spoon. “Good night, Rachel.”
Then he started to eat.
My room was exquisite. Unfortunately, I was too unsettled to appreciate it.
Colin had escorted me down the hall without a word, keeping a tight enough grip on
my elbow to bruise my skin, but my mind was in such turmoil, I hadn’t protested. I’d
felt chastened. Disappointed. Bewildered. Angry. And yet wildly alive and perversely
thrilled. I was humiliated that Julian and Colin both knew I’d signed my contracts
without reading them—what kind of idiot did that?—and yet even my humiliation excited
me.
They shouldn’t be able to do this to me. I was a grown woman, a surgeon, and Julian
was my boss. Period.
And yet I’d allowed him to send me to my room like the girl he’d called me and let
Colin shove me through the door, pull it shut and lock it from the outside, all without
a peep.
I laid my forehead against the painted wood and groaned thinking about the buttered
bread I’d held in my hand not ten minutes ago. I was absolutely starving. Not only
had I skipped lunch because of the turbulence, I’d hardly had a bite of breakfast
because I was too excited to eat.
Suddenly I remembered the protein bar I’d tucked in my laptop case yesterday morning.
That would tide me over until breakfast.
My guitar was propped in the corner, and my suitcases both lay on a padded chest at
the foot of the heavy, ornate bed. I was relieved to see my computer case on the floor
beside the lovely little antique writing desk.
Sitting down in the ladder-back chair, I pulled out my laptop out and plugged it in,
then dug for the protein bar.
It wasn’t there.
“Dammit,” I muttered. I was sure I’d seen it in there at the airport. Maybe Dirk,
annoyed with me and unaware Mrs. Petters had treats waiting for him, had lifted it.
Jerk.
Hungry, and suddenly depressed and exhausted, I pulled off my boots and made a beeline
for the bed. I paused when I reached it, startled to realize the mattress was too
tall to sit down on. The whole bed was huge, with a flat, sturdy canopy, a ruffled
valance that ran all the way around the outside, a beautiful pink-flowered quilt and
a half-dozen fluffy pillows.
There was no step that I could find, so I just sort of vaulted up onto the thing,
landing on my backside among the pillows. Now I really felt like a little girl. Part
of me wanted to have a good cry, while another wanted to stomp around the room and
rage at Julian—and Colin, too, since he was the one who’d lured me here. The rest
just wanted answers.
Which I’d probably have if I got my butt up and read the contracts.
But for the moment, I couldn’t be bothered to do anything except lie here with my
arms flung wide and my palms curled up loosely, staring at the heavy canopy slats
above as I reflected on the novelty of feeling punished.
I was being punished by Julian Kilmartin.
Not in any way I’d ever imagined, of course, and certainly not in a fun way, but the
awareness of it still sent a shiver of exhilaration through me. I’d never been punished
before, at least not that I remembered. I was the good girl, the quiet girl, the one
my parents didn’t have to worry about, except that maybe I’d go blind from too much
reading and studying.
It distressed me to have made Julian so angry, and yet looking back, there was something
inexplicably satisfying about it. Was I a fool to believe there might be a sexual
element to his domineering behavior? Or was I just projecting my long-denied desires
onto him?
Was I unconsciously trying to provoke him into fulfilling my sexual fantasies?
The idea made me cringe. I wasn’t cut out to manipulate people and couldn’t imagine
how others did it on a regular basis. Manipulation took too much thought, too much
energy. I preferred the straightforward approach to most things in life—if you wanted
something, you had to ask for it and take the chance of being denied.
But what I wanted from Julian, and even from Colin, wasn’t something I would ever
be able to ask for. Not because I feared being denied—God knew Colin would have been
all over any request I made when we were together—but because I feared…
What? What was it I feared so deeply? I’d agonized over it for years and was still
no closer to an answer. But it occurred to me that if all this self-examination was
any indication, being sent to your room really was an effective punishment.
Eventually I noticed some kind of ridged black tracks running along the inside of
all four canopy rails, with three steel rings plugged in along each side and two along
the head and foot. What in the world were they for? Maybe Julian had discarded some
kind of full-length drapes that came with the bed, although the tracks didn’t look
very conducive to sliding.
I must have fallen asleep pondering their purpose because when I opened my eyes, the
room was pitch-black. The clock on the nightstand said it was nearly six o’clock,
but I had no idea when I’d arrived at Bangenschloss—my Circadian rhythms were off
because of all the time changes over the last couple of days.
Yawning, I sat up and fumbled with the bedside lamp until I found the switch. Then
I slid down off the tall bed and refreshed my laptop connections. I felt the need
to connect with Bree—not to tell her what was going on, of course. The last thing
I needed to hear was
I told you so
. I just wanted to hear her voice, to establish a link with the real world.
I was pleased to see a strong wi-fi signal labeled KBTI. Unfortunately, it was a secure
connection and I didn’t have the password. I was batting a thousand today.
Fortunately, there was more than one way to skin a cat. I found my purse and dug out
my cell phone. But when I turned it on, there was no reception.
Great. Was it the storm, or was there never any reception out here? Surely it was
the storm—Julian had enough money to build his own network of cell towers.
I sighed my disgust. Was anything going to go my way on this trip?
The KBTI folder on my desktop seemed to flash my name, but feeling rebellious after
my nap, I studiously ignored it. Just because I was grounded to my room didn’t mean
I had to do what Julian said. There was no need to read the contracts if I was going
to bail on them anyway, which I very might if he continued to treat me like this.
And I sure as hell wasn’t going to write out any lines. The man had been king of his
own castle for far too long if he thought being my boss gave him the right to treat
me like an errant vassal.
Bursting with angry energy now, I explored my room. I was momentarily distracted when
I realized the fireplace was a very realistic-looking gas log and flipped on the wall
switch. Flames danced to life, instantly making the room even cozier. The overstuffed
chair and ottoman now looked incredibly inviting, and I could see myself spending
hours there reading—if I were going to stay, that is.
Through one of the two doors opposite the bed, I found a luxurious en-suite bath.
Besides the deep whirlpool tub, which was surrounded by white candles and jars of
bath salts, there was a huge shower with multiple heads, and a bidet as well as a
toilet. The pink marble tile was even warm under my feet. In short, it was a hedonist’s
dream, and I was sorely tempted to stay on at Bangenschloss just so I had time to
enjoy it all.
The other door was a huge walk-in closet, and I was surprised to find it already filled
with clothing—women’s clothing, most of it ranging from slinky to downright indecent.
The bar on the left side bulged with daringly low-cut dresses, diaphanous robes and
nightgowns, and what looked like a million slutty Halloween costumes. A closet organizing
system on the other two walls held shelf after shelf of outrageous do-me heels and
drawers filled with thin silk sheaths and scarves, corsets, garters, thongs and hosiery.
“What the hell?” Grinding my teeth, I slammed the door. Whose was all this? Or did
I want to know?
The nightstand drawers held even wilder surprises. The top one was fully stocked with
a variety of condoms and personal lubricants, and the bottom was bursting with a shocking
array of sex toys, all still in their packages.
Who in the hell usually stayed in this room anyway—the castle call girl?
Actually, that wouldn’t surprise me at all. Julian was a rich man, and just because
he’d never been associated with a woman in public didn’t mean he had no sex drive.
He probably wouldn’t think twice about installing a paid sex minion or two in his
private palace. For all I knew, prostitution was legal in this country.
That settled it. Romantic dream-bath or no, I was not staying here one minute longer
than I had to.
Knowing that playing along might be the fastest way to get out of here, I sat back
down at the desk and opened the file with my contracts in it. I opened the employment
contract first and took my laptop over to the bed so I could relax. It was such dry
reading, I barely managed to get through it without nodding off. Then I opened the
personal conduct agreement.
Section 1: Dual nature of Employee’s roles.
Rachel Anne McBride, hereinafter referred to as Employee, shall act in two separate
and distinct capacities for the duration of her employment at Kilmartin BioTech Industries.
Employee’s role as a vascular surgeon is defined in the concurrent employment contract
between Kilmartin BioTech Industries and Employee. Employee’s role, rights and responsibilities
as sexual submissive to Julian Xavier Kilmartin, hereinafter referred to as Employer,
are defined below.
The paragraph was so full of legal jargon, I almost skimmed right over the words
sexual submissive.
Almost.
I sat straight up, my eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh my fucking God!”
* * * * *
Thirteen sections later, I was still whispering, “Oh my fucking God.”
Well, at least now I knew what the rings in the canopy were for.
And all that stuff in the closet and nightstand? Yeah. It was for me.
Me!
I could hardly get my mind around it. Not only did Julian still want me as a woman,
he wanted me in ways even I’d never fantasized about—shocking, perverted,
thrilling
ways that would probably have Bree hyperventilating before she called in the cavalry
to rescue me.