The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (20 page)

“Oh, look, our meal ticket has arrived,” Jeremy muttered derisively.
 
“Guess who’s going to steal the spotlight away from poor Samantha?”

I ignored Jeremy and tried to keep my heart from beating its way out of my chest at the sight of the very man who was slowly stripping away my sanity.
 
I took one last swig of my champagne and signaled a passing waiter for more.
 
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeremy giving me a quizzical look.
 

“You okay, hon?” he asked.
 
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I said nothing and noticed that Magda was staring at me too.
 
I tore my gaze away from my friends’ puzzled frowns and concentrated on the man who was now shouldering away from Alfred and the other guests and walking up to our table.
 
Two empty chairs stood right across from me.
 
Seton was about to sit in one of them.
 
I tried to focus on something other than the fact that I was going to be face to face with Seton after spending one very hot night with him at an anonymous fetish club in Albany, but I couldn’t.
 
I mentally prepared myself for his cold greeting—if he bothered to acknowledge my presence at all.
 
I suddenly felt light-headed, and I doubted it had anything to do with the three glasses of champagne I had already consumed.

Everyone at the table stood up as Seton, Alfred, Samantha and Claude approached us.
 
Seton glanced and smiled at everyone but me.
 

“Mr. Seton, meet some of our talented editors.
 
This is Jeremy Walters, Magda Jones and her husband Tom, Celia Dane, George O’Donnell, Barry Conrad and his lovely wife Meredith.”
 

Alfred paused while Seton shook hands and murmured a “nice to meet you” to each of them.
 
Seton was all formality and politeness, a side of him I hadn’t seen until now.
 

Alfred continued.
 
“And of course, you know Miss Marjorie Fordham, your editor.”
 
Alfred smiled and winked at me.
 
“We hope.”

Seton let out a polite chuckle before his piercing green eyes finally met mine.
 
I clutched at my empty chair with one hand and ran shaky fingers through my loose curls with the other.
 
Then I smoothed down my dress, my gaze fixed on my ministrations.
 
Sighing inwardly, I turned my attention back to Seton to get the amenities out of the way.
 
Lustful admiration flickered in his beautiful eyes just moments before his expression became blank.
 
It happened so quickly I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.
 

Seton gave me a curt nod and said, “How do you do, Miss Fordham?”

“I’m well, thank you,” I said in a polite tone that mimicked his.

“You look quite lovely this evening.”
 
He smiled slowly.
 
“Kind of like Elizabeth Taylor in her younger days.”
   

I smiled back and gave him a grateful nod, not wanting him or anyone else to notice that I wasn’t breathing, that I hadn’t been breathing since he came here.
 
Everyone sat down.
 
I blew out my breath the moment I sank into my chair.
 
A waiter carrying a large tray with drinks strolled by.
 
I waved him over, grabbed a flute with bubbly and drank it as if my life depended on it.
 

Conversations flowed around me.
 
Seton spoke amiably to everyone at the table but me.
 
I, in turn, did the same.
 
Seton was charm personified.
 
He was all smiles and politeness.
 
He even had the grace to blush when Samantha complimented him on his “luminous eyes.”
 
He talked about England and his plans to stay in Northampton indefinitely to work in his art gallery, which he hoped would be open for business by autumn.
 
He spoke with both eloquence and wit, cracking self-deprecating jokes about his early years as a “starving writer.”
 
I noticed that he changed the subject when Samantha enquired about his family.
 
Huh.
 
Interesting.

Everyone at the table adored him—all except for Jeremy, who laughed dryly and muttered biting remarks that only I could hear.
 
I had a suspicion he was doing it for my benefit.
 
A conspiratorial wink from him confirmed it.
 

I looked at him, puzzled.
 
Why did he think I needed his support?
 
It wasn’t like he
knew
about Seton and me.
 
At least, I hoped he didn’t!
 

Seton continued to chatter away with the others.
 
It amazed me to see a side of him I hadn’t encountered before.
 
He was always so mysterious, so aloof when he was with me, and yet there he was now—Mr. Dimples and Smiles, Mr. Boy Next Door.
 
Who was that charming, friendly person sitting across the table?
 
Where was the arrogant, imperious man I’d met six days ago?
 

“So, what do you think of our Marjorie?” Alfred asked Seton as he flashed me a fatherly grin.
 
“I hope she’s been a fine example of what we have to offer.”

I saw a smile touch Seton’s handsome face as he considered Alfred’s question.
 
He ran an index finger slowly over the rim of his champagne flute and I felt a flutter of sexual awareness stir within me as I remembered what he did to me with that same exact finger just the night before.

“Miss Fordham is quite efficient at what she does,” Seton drawled as he continued to toy with his drink.
 
“She has been very accommodating, I assure you.”
 
Smoldering green eyes gazed at me as he spoke the last sentence.

The double entendre and the sexually-charged lilt in his voice were not lost on me.
 
I felt my cheeks flushing pink as I cast a worried glance across the table.
 
I didn’t want Seton to ignore me, but I didn’t want him to make our affair public either.
 
Fortunately, no one noticed anything unusual, for they either smiled at me or nodded in approval.
 
Jeremy, on the other hand, watched me and Seton with narrowed eyes.

Alfred grinned heartily at me and gave me a gentle pat in the back before making his excuses and leaving the table, grumbling something about stupid banquet halls and their no-smoking rules.

“Now, if you please,” Seton said with one hand over his chest.
 
“I appreciate your kindness in welcoming me and making me feel at home, but we’re here to celebrate Ms. Minou’s new book.
 
She is, after all, the star of the evening.”

Samantha smiled at him, charmed.

I sighed with relief, sending Seton a silent thank you for changing the subject.

Jeremy snorted softly next to me.
 
“He damn well knows Sam isn’t the star anymore,” he muttered nastily.

I shot him an annoyed look while I finished my champagne.

“How many of those have you had tonight?” he asked, indicating the empty flute.

“Lost count,” I muttered and signaled the waiter for more.

 
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked quietly, frowning as he watched me start in on another round of delicious bubbly.
 
“So far, I’ve seen you either fidgeting or drinking yourself to an early grave.”

I downed the champagne and shrugged.
 
“It’s been a tough week for me, okay?
 
I just wanna unwind a little.”

He pursed his lips and said nothing.
 
Good.
 
I was getting tired of his constant meddling and eye-narrowing.
 
It was sweet of him to care, but sometimes I wished he would just mind his own friggin’ business for once.
 

My head felt fuzzy, a welcoming sensation.
 
I needed to forget about all of the confusion inside my head and, more important, forget about the man sitting right across from me.
 
I drank more champagne and shot Jeremy a daring, say-something-and-you’ll-live-to-regret-it look.
 
He swore under his breath as he got up and walked away.
 
Finally, I thought bitterly.
 
Now I can be drunk and miserable in peace.

I didn’t know how much time had passed or how much more alcohol I’d consumed, but I knew that Samantha’s book had already been introduced and that she had already spoken to the press.
 
Dinner had been served, and a band now played very loud jazz music on the stage.
 
I knew David J. Seton was still at the table, still ignoring me, and still endearing himself to all of the guests.
 
I also knew that a woman had joined our party—a tall, gorgeous, voluptuous redhead in a little black figure-revealing dress and matching calf-length boots.
 
(The only reason I had noticed the boots was because I’d glanced down at her feet, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of a twinkling ankle bracelet and toe-ring set identical to mine.)
 
I gaped at the vision that now occupied the seat next to Seton’s.
 
She had yellow-green cat eyes and lips so lusciously full Angelina Jolie would’ve been envious.
 
She was a little in the heavyset side, but the extra weight suited her, made her look all the more inviting.
 
Seton had introduced the stunning redhead as Karen York, his agent.
 
My stomach sank.

That’s his agent?!
 

“Hello everyone,” she’d greeted curtly.
 
She had one of those annoyingly shrilly voices made popular by simpering heroines in BBC period dramas.
 
“Sorry I’m late.
 
Train arrived just a few minutes ago.”
 

She was polite and conversational enough to everyone at the table, but most of her attention was focused on Seton.
 
They spoke softly and in earnest, eyes on no one but each other.
 
She made a lot of gestures with her slender hands while she spoke.
 
I caught glimpses of her smoothing a strand of hair away from Seton’s forehead and whispering things in his ear, things that made him laugh.
 
The gesture reminded me of the blonde bombshell I saw him with yesterday and wondered if Karen was another one in his long string of lovers.
 
I toyed with my drink in doleful silence.
 
Karen and the blonde were gorgeous.
 
They were also tall, bodacious and glamorous—everything I was not.
 

“You all right, sweetie?” Magda asked me, concern written all over her pretty round face.
 

I smiled and nodded.
 
“Just tired.”
 

The sounds of Seton and Karen laughing and flirting from across the table were impossible to ignore.
 
The jazzy music coming from the band playing on the stage wasn’t loud enough to drown out their voices.
 
I had to get away from them.
 

Pushing to my feet, I made my excuses to Magda and Tom and dashed across the room to talk with the other guests.
 
Clusters of people were gathered in small circles wherever I went.
 
Alfred and Samantha were chatting up a storm with several authors and colleagues in a faraway corner of the room.
 
I was staggering my way to them when someone caught my wrist and spun me over.
 
The sudden movement made me dizzy.
 

“Just answer me one thing,” Jeremy said as he held me steady with both hands.
 
“Is Seton the reason why you’re behaving this way?”

I frowned, pressing a hand against my forehead.
 
“Behaving how?”

He raised an eyebrow.
 
“Like a deer caught in headlights.
 
Like a…needy chick.”

Disbelief swirled within me.
 
A needy chick?
 
Me?
 
Suddenly angry, I pushed Jeremy back forcibly with both hands.
 
He barely moved.
 
I, on the other hand, staggered backwards from the effort it took me to push him and almost fell on my ass, but Jeremy grabbed me and steadied me, his hands curled tightly around my elbows.
 
He made sure I was standing straight before letting go.
 
I closed my eyes briefly and sighed wearily.