Chapter Five

Belle

I couldn’t believe what he’d done. I couldn’t believe any of it. Tears burned down my cheeks as I huddled in the four-poster bed that ass had given me. Who cared about lilac walls and beautiful marble accents in the bathroom, when Drake McManus was actually everything they’d said he was? For a moment, even with the forced nature of our “negotiations,” I’d thought that we could learn to build something. What an idiot I’d been, a complete fool. There wasn’t anything else beneath that scarred brow and those brown eyes but a man like so many others. He was probably just like George, no matter how he denied it.

A collar?

A diamond-studded monstrosity?

How did he think I was going to react? Was I supposed to clasp it around my neck and then demand more? Maybe I was supposed to rush to his bedroom before we finished the fish and let him spank me or… I couldn’t even think what else he wanted. I wasn’t naïve. I’d been busy the last few years taking care of my mother, and I hadn’t dated as widely as I liked, but I’d read my share of books and seen movies. I could guess what kind of weird Dom/sub games he wanted to get into.

I knew I had to take care of my mother. I’d do anything to keep her alive, or at least I thought I would. Now, over three hours since I’d left my half-eaten plate and that damn collar behind, I wasn’t sure anymore. It was completely possible that there were lines even I couldn’t cross, no matter how badly my mom needed this. Dad hadn’t asked me—in fact, he’d begged me more than once not to go, even right before I left for the airport—but this was our best chance. Drake wasn’t wrong; no one else would even return our calls, let alone sit down to negotiate or offer funds. This was what I had to do.

I could talk business. I could even go on dates or have sex with him, but I wasn’t putting on a dog collar and getting down on all fours. I wasn’t having him whip me or anything else. He seemed so handsome, so powerful and mysterious, but I’d seen that beast inside of him, and I had no interest in being dragged that deeply into his world.

Shaking my head and pulling the covers over my knees, I tried to ignore the frantic growls of my stomach. The salmon had been excellent, but I’d only had a few bites before I’d run off, and now I was starving. Surely, if I snuck out to the kitchen, assuming I could find it, and ate in my own wing then I wouldn’t have to run into Drake before morning. The house was big enough to have its own zip code… or two. Or maybe it was too big a risk. Then my stomach rumbled again and I felt like it was about to digest itself, lining and all. That settled it; I had to get something to eat.

Slipping from the bed, I rummaged through the closet and found a pair of jean shorts and a flowy babydoll top. Even at night, the muggy temperatures soared high and sweat stuck to my skin. Steadying myself, I slipped from the room, my bare feet quiet on the marble floor beneath me. Mrs. Johnson was my guide beforehand, and without her, I never would have found my room. This estate had rooms on rooms and a new, twisting turn around every corner. I was struggling badly now to find anything, wishing I’d even stumble upon a flight of stairs since there was no way the kitchen or any food would be on the third floor. I was lost.

Turning the corner, I thudded into a thick pair of shoulders. I jumped back and brought a hand to my mouth to muffle a scream. The last thing I wanted was to run into Drake when I was still this shaken up. While I believed that he believed he’d take things slow—whatever that meant when collars were involved—everything this evening had been too embarrassing. As my eyes squinted in the darkness, I let out a sigh of relief. The broad man before me had skin almost as dark as night and an open, earnest smile. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but his short hair was highlighted by the moonlight that came in through the few windows on the hall, reflecting small flecks of gray.

He chuckled a little and gave me a little bow. “Miss Fontaine, it’s a pleasure. Enchanté,” he said, the French tripping easily over his tongue. “My name is Leonard St. Croix. I’m—”

“You’re Drake’s personal valet,” I supplied. “Mrs. Johnson told me.”

“All around guy in the know is how I like to think about it,” he said, winking at me again as he regained his posture. “Now, Miss Fontaine, what are you doing up? It’s getting close to one a.m.”

I blushed, feeling the heat flare through my cheeks and positive I was glowing like a beacon for Leonard. “I was starving. I thought I could find the kitchen and sneak some food from the fridge before anyone noticed. I… you aren’t going to tell Drake I’m up, are you? Am I in trouble?”

Will there be whips in my future?

I blew out a short breath at the thought.

Leonard narrowed his eyes at me but considered my questions before he spoke. “Penelope and I work for Drake, but we also have been told to do whatever you need to make you comfortable. I know this has to be hard. I can’t even imagine. I know that you’re all swept up here and far from home. I believe that Drake—”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but Mrs. Johnson did the same thing before dinner and then he showed me who he really is. I was so wrong to even think we could work together this month!”

Leonard’s jaw tensed before he spoke again. “He has a hard time being honest with anyone. I think he lets his guard down with me and Penelope because we’ve been around the longest, but he’s always closed off and it makes him fumble in weird ways around women he cares about.”

“He offered me a gift I so didn’t want, Leonard. It’s more than that. But… I… is there food?” I asked, batting my eyelashes back at him. “Even if it’s just some cold cereal; I can manage.”

Leonard brightened and a wide smile spread across his lips. “Cherie, I can fry up some mean conch fritters before you blink. Be my guest; I’m going to serve you up right.”