Chapter Three
Cassandra
“He did what!” Cynthia exclaimed, her blonde curls bouncing as she whipped her head toward me, her mouth gaping open.
It was the day after my lesson with Deo. Pretending to arrive late, I had stood in the back of the conference room for the weekly meeting with the partners, something I had never, ever done before. Even after spending the night sleeping on my stomach, my bottom was still tender, and there was no way I was going to sit on one of those hard wooden chairs for over an hour.
Cynthia had cornered me immediately afterwards, dragging me into the women’s bathroom, asking me why I was late, helpfully informing me I was never late, and demanding to know why on Earth had I stood in the back of the room. The story of what happened between Deo and me tumbled out of my mouth, and now I was getting the full Spanish inquisition from my friend.
“Seriously? I mean… you just climbed over his knee and let him wallop you?”
“It wasn’t like that. He didn’t wallop me. He just… spanked me.” I still had a moment’s hesitation actually saying the word, keeping my focus on my bag as I dug through it looking for the lip gloss I could never find.
Handing me the pink tube of gloss from her own purse, Cynthia asked, “Well, what did you do to upset him so much?”
“I told him I was leaving,” I murmured, unscrewing the cap and dabbing the sheer color onto my lips.
A low whistle emitted from Cynthia’s freshly painted hot-pink lips. “You don’t just toss that out like you’re running out to the store. You need a plan if you’re going to leave a man like Deo. He seems”—Cynthia cocked her head to the side, thinking and checking her handiwork in the mirror, the bright pink a perfect complement to her peaches and cream complexion—“powerful. I always thought Deo was in the mob or something. Too damn good looking, making too much money to be in ‘finance’.” She used her fingers to make air quotes around the last word she spoke.
“He’s not in the mob. He’s just…” My thoughts trailed off. I was still in shock and hadn’t had time to figure it out myself. “He’s just strict and… well, he really was saving our marriage.”
Blotting her lips with a tissue, Cynthia scrunched up her face. “Maybe what he’s really into is kinky games. All that fifty shades of gray.”
In the mirror, my green eyes widened, my auburn hair swinging against my pale skin as I shook my head. “Believe me, he definitely wasn’t playing a game.”
Cynthia considered my face in the mirror. “Well, you seem more confused than upset. I don’t think you were really planning on leaving; you just wanted to get his attention.” Evidently seeing something in my expression, she gave me a real smile. “You know that old saying? The woman doth protest too much? Well, girlfriend, I’m not actually hearing much protesting. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would say you seem like you liked it… a lot,” she said, bumping her hip with mine.
“Cy.” A warm blush crept into my face. There was no way I could tell Cynthia how right she was. I still didn’t understand it, but as much as the spanking had hurt, I’d loved the discipline. I craved Deo’s power over me. I always had. All that time wasted, wishing he would take control. He had just never shown that side to me before last night, and I had always been too shy, too embarrassed to ask.
I would not share the whole story with Cynthia. The vision I’d seen that had made my blood run cold, I’d not even shared that with Deo. I could not even describe my feelings about the intimacy of the spanking. What happened afterwards—the penance, the most incredible sex of my life—I knew I would take to my grave. But it wasn’t just the discipline or the sex. It was the man who had delivered both. Deo had held me, rocking me as I came back to myself, whispering in my ear words he had never said before. Words making me feel vulnerable and protected. Words that I had longed to hear my whole married life. Words to remind me of the new path our lives were taking. Words promising atonement would be paid if I forgot who was in control. The feminist in me was shouting I should be ashamed of myself… but I wasn’t. I was embarrassed of my behavior, but definitely not regretful of releasing control I’d held onto my entire life.
Fussing with her short curls in the mirror, Cynthia said, “I don’t know. Powerhouse lawyer gets taken over the knee and spanked like a little girl. And it just happens to be by the hand of her dark, handsome mob husband. That’s actually pretty damn hot.”
I could feel my face turning as red as a stop sign, but I knew that wouldn’t signal to my best friend enough was enough.
“You’re blushing… really blushing.”
Leaning against the sink for support, head in my hands, I miserably muttered, “Fine, you’re right, okay? I liked it.” Cynthia hooting like an owl had me clarifying. “I mean, I didn’t like it when it was happening. It really hurt.” The memory of Deo’s hand coming down hard and sharp against my bare skin, the shocking pain making my breath leave my body, invaded my thoughts. “But afterwards I felt… good.” My words didn’t do my emotions justice, I’d felt far better than ‘good’, but I really couldn’t describe it, and I didn’t want to share. It was too intimate.
Dropping my brush back into my purse, I smiled. “Speaking of good, who’s your lucky lunch date today? John or Justin?”
Cynthia laughed and fluttered her hand at me. “Keep up, girlfriend. Both of those are so last week.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t blame me; it is impossible to keep your love life straight. But, at least now you’re free to come to lunch with me.”
“Afraid not. Kenneth in advertising is taking me to that new French bistro.” Stuffing all her cosmetics back into her bag, she grinned. “Tomorrow it is Italian with Tony in accounting.”
“Good grief. At this rate, you’ll have gone through every male in this entire building by the end of the year.”
She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail against her freshly glossed lips. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Even with only three floors, that’s still a lot of men.” Dropping her hand, she smiled. “Maybe I should start doubling up.”
Giggling, I slipped my arm around her waist as we headed for the door. “Well, let me know how that works out.”
Cynthia smiled but then pulled me to a stop right before we left the room. “Don’t think I don’t know you were changing the subject away from you and Deo. I’ll let you be, but promise me”—her hand dropped to take mine, squeezing it hard—“if he does something that scares you, call me right away. Promise?”
The last words Deo had said to me before I’d left the house this morning ran through my mind. His eyes dark, he had held me tight as he growled the words in my ear, “Don’t ever forget, I protect what’s mine.”
“I promise,” I told Cy, giving her a quick hug. Little did I know how soon I would be breaking that promise.
* * *
Andrew was already waiting for me at the pub when I finally got free of Cynthia’s worried clutches. I pushed through the heavy wooden doors, relaxing in the atmosphere of the dark wood interior. Entering Hibernia transported me to the traditional Irish pubs I had enjoyed while studying abroad in college, full of cozy nooks and beautifully sculpted bars.
“Hey,” I greeted my friend quickly, undoing the tortoiseshell buttons of my beige trench coat. Shrugging my arms from the coat that was much too light for the season, I folded it over the back of our usual booth. Sliding into the familiar seat, I flinched as my bum hit the hard wood.
“Hey, yourself,” Andrew said. “Why are you so late?”
“You know how it is. I was chatting with Cynthia and simply lost track of the time. I actually thought she’d be able to join us today, but, well…” I said, taking a sip from my glass of unsweetened tea that he had ordered for me.
“Not unless you booked her months ago,” Andrew said with a chuckle. “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t going to make it before I had to leave.”
Seeing not only his briefcase, but a suitcase tucked into the booth beside him, I said, “That’s right, you’ve got some important meeting outside the office. Please, go ahead and eat.”
Instead, he put his fork down, leaned back against the booth’s seat, and looked at me so intently I had to fight the urge to squirm.
“Cynthia’s dating history aside, what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I assured him, taking another long drink of tea. In his navy suit jacket and pink button-down, his tie with little sailboat anchors on it, pale blue eyes and sandy, wavy hair, I mused that he had a young, fun boy-next-door look and air about him. The only thing missing would be a few freckles dotting his straight nose. It was quite a contrast to my husband who had the dark, handsome, serious ‘mafia according to Cynthia’ thing going on. They were opposites. Maybe that’s how Andrew and I had become such good friends. We loved to rib each other, which I latched onto now. I gestured toward his suitcase. “So, did you pack a pair of shorts and a few polo shirts? I’d hate to have you be all frazzled, unprepared for those clambakes on the beach or whatever it is they have in the Hamptons,” I teased, attempting to turn the conversation away from me.
Talking to Andrew was light and easy, whereas with Deo, things were just—heavier, but that didn’t mean he was going to be swayed so easily, as I learned when he gave me an intense look. “Nice of you to worry about my wardrobe, but this is strictly a business trip. I’ll be stuck in the client’s office in Syracuse. Now, seriously, what’s up? You are the one who looks frazzled… and you never look frazzled.”
“I’m fine,” I protested, grabbing the menu for something to hold.
“I didn’t see you at the partners’ meeting this morning.” Andrew spoke casually, swirling his spoon in his coffee. His light brow creased with worry.
“I was in the back,” I replied airily, waving my hand as if brushing away his concern.
Raising a curious brow to me, he said, “And why do you keep shifting in your seat like that?”
I could feel the blush rise in my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I’d even moved. “I fell ice skating over the weekend,” I blurted out.
Chuckling, Andrew sipped at his coffee. “You and Deo?” he asked with a grin. “I just can’t picture the two of you, hand in hand, gliding across the ice, wearing your Gucci and Louis Vuitton leather trench coats. You two seem more like the vineyard type.”
“Oh, yeah, cause there’s so many great vineyards in New Jersey.”
“Hey, we have a couple. I’ve heard Cava Winery has a good one.”
“Deo and I do a lot of fun things together,” I protested. True, Deo and I had never been skating, much less on ice, or done any physical activity together that required gear. Most weekends, when we were getting along, we were visiting the trendiest bars and restaurants, or spending the day together in bed. When we were fighting, I was shopping with Cynthia, with Deo locking himself in his home office. Recently, I had practically purchased a whole new wardrobe; there had been a lot of shopping days.
“Yeah, but ice skating? It sounds so wholesome. Next you’re going to tell me that you and Deo are starring in the latest town play together.”
A deep voice with just a hint of Greek ancestry interrupted our playful banter. “Now that would depend on the production, wouldn’t it, my sweet?” Deo said dryly. “Maybe Romeo and Juliet? Or West Side Story?” he asked, leaning down to place a territorial kiss on my cheek.
“Deo,” I said, wincing as I scooted over in the booth, making room for our unexpected guest. “What a pleasant surprise,” I mumbled, trying to mask the shock of seeing him from my voice.
“I called the office, and your secretary told me you two would be here.”
Deo turned to Andrew who looked astonished to see the man we’d been speaking of appear in the flesh.
“According to Deborah, you and my wife frequent this establishment.” Deo’s smile did not reach his eyes as he held out his hand toward Andrew. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Deo Ambrosia. Cassandra’s husband.”
Not easily flustered, even by my Greek, mafia-esque husband, Andrew took Deo’s hand, shaking it in a friendly manner. “Yes, we eat here quite often. Hibernia has some of the best food around. Andrew Turner. Pleasure to meet you, Deo.”
I could tell that Deo didn’t appreciate the casual use of his first name by the thinning of his lips before he said, “Andrew, are you an intern for the firm?”
With a laugh, Andrew answered, “No. I’m a lawyer. Have been for some years now.”
“Such a young pup,” Deo quipped rudely, eyeing Andrew up and down. “Tell me, Andrew, do you enjoy having lunch with my wife?”
“I do. She’s a brilliant woman. She’s funny and beautiful as well.” Andrew’s eyes touched mine, then went back to Deo. Evidently, Andrew saw something in my husband’s expression that made him uneasy as he rushed to add, “Of course, I’m sure you know that.”
“I do,” Deo said, his hand stroking my hair, his eyes never leaving Andrew’s. “As I’m sure you are aware that Cassandra belongs to me.”
I shifted in my seat, now uncomfortable, a bit embarrassed, and unsure where this was going. My husband was usually the consummate gentleman, always courteous. But now, well, he’d been ruder than I’d ever witnessed. It was almost like he was throwing down a gauntlet, daring Andrew to pick up the glove.
Not taking the bait, Andrew nodded and stood, and politely excused himself, saying, “Wonderful to finally meet you, Deo. I’ll let the two of you catch a lunch date. Cassandra, I’ll see you when I get back.” With a final, slightly confused glance toward us, Andrew gathered his belongings and left the pub.
“Tell me, Cassandra,” Deo said, his voice dripping with disgust, “was the boy”—Deo gestured at the door Andrew had just made his hurried exit through—“the reason you thought you were leaving?”
Tense as the situation was, that I could laugh at. I gave a small, nervous chuckle. There was nothing between me and Andrew. He was like the brother I never had, growing up as an only child. “Of course not.”
Deo’s eyes investigated mine, his look causing me to feel ashamed of my words the evening before.
“You know I didn’t mean it,” I murmured. “What I said last night was a mistake.”
“I know, sweet.” Deo’s hand slid beneath me, his fingers grasping my left buttock and squeezing, hard. “A big mistake.”
The pressure from his hand made me gasp and also had me looking up to meet his eyes. “I thought you said that after my… my lesson, I was forgiven.”
Gentling his grip, fingertips now stroking softly, he said, “Yes, you will always be forgiven after a punishment is done and a penance paid. But, forgiveness does not stop the chain of events we begin with our choices.”
I didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word punishment, letting me know he wasn’t accepting my little euphemism for the spanking he’d given me. He kissed my cheek before releasing my bottom and leaning back casually in the booth. “So, what are these little lunches like, then? Enlighten me.”
“We talk. We eat. That’s it.”
“Chatting, laughing, sharing bits about your day? That belongs to me. Not some boy who barely knows you.”
I instantly felt annoyed. “He’s a friend, Deo. Don’t you have any of those? Other than Alekos?”
Deo eyed me. “Alekos is my brother. I have other close friends, and you shall meet them soon. You are intelligent beyond your years, but terribly naïve. Men do not have female friends.”
“You’re wrong,” I said with conviction. “In my world all the lawyers are friends. We work closely with one another and there is a bond between us, and, yes, that often includes lunch.”
Deo shook his head as he moved back a bit. “I have not given you the attention that you crave. That is yet another thing that changes now. Consider me your new friend. And lunch date. From now on.”
“You’ve never met me for lunch before.”
Deo’s dark eyes softened as he gazed back at me. He reached out and delicately smoothed my hair back, tucking a strand behind my ear. “An error on my part,” he murmured as his fingers trailed over my cheekbone, and his thumb brushed over my bottom lip.
When the tip of his thumb slipped between my lips, all thoughts of arguing over Andrew evaporated. I couldn’t help the quiver that ran through me as my mind filled with the image of Deo guiding his cock into my mouth, his fingers twisting in my hair, his dark eyes boring into mine as I licked and suckled, pleasuring him. I could feel my panties dampening and my face heating when I realized that he was calling my name, drawing me from the memory.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.
“I said that last night began a new life for us. When you told me that you were leaving me—”
“I’m sorry, Deo; it was a mistake.”
Holding his hand up to signal me to stop, Deo continued, “When you told me you were leaving, it devastated me. I know we have been unhappy at times, but I always thought we were both in this for a lifetime. It crushed me to hear those words.”
I silently twisted the folds of my napkin with my fingers. My very profession had taught me the power of words. But, it was my own foolishness that had me learning that rash words spouted in anger or frustration can never be unsaid. “I didn’t mean it,” I protested softly, knowing I sounded like a broken record.
“Nonetheless, it opened my eyes. To a new way of thinking. To a realization of what you need from me. And it did other things as well, things only time will tell how they will turn out.” Deo murmured the last few words almost more to himself than to me.
Not sure what he meant by the ‘other things’ he mentioned, there was a more pressing question on my mind. “About the spanking…” I began, feeling the heat rise again in my face. I needed to know what my future held, and if I was literally going to be needing to watch my back, or my backside to be more accurate.
“Yes,” Deo said, flashing me a wicked grin. “What about it?” His face held an air of satisfaction I had not seen there before.
“Is that something new in our relationship, or was that a one-time ‘I crossed the line and you put me in check’ kind of a thing?” I asked, tumbling the words quickly out before I lost my nerve.
Turning toward me in the small booth, Deo stared intently at me. “What do you think?”
My face had to be beet red at this point. “I-I don’t know,” I managed to stammer out with a small shrug.
After spending a quiet moment considering me, Deo’s voice was amused as he spoke. “Oh, my dear, I think you do know. After all, we discussed the very issue last night.” His hand reached out to run along the table, swiping across the surface slowly before it stilled, fingers splayed in the center before he gave the polished wood a single slap that had me jumping in my seat. “Do I need to bend you over this table, to remind you of exactly how I view dishonesty?”
“You wouldn’t!” I blurted out. A flash of the image of my bare bottom on display for the entire restaurant went through my mind.
Eyeing the patrons of the restaurant, Deo said, “I keep my promises and take my responsibilities to heart. Let me make it abundantly clear, my dear. You will be punished whenever and wherever I deem it necessary be it at home or in front of our fellow diners. Understand?”
It took every ounce of self-control not to squirm at his words—words I knew beyond a doubt were spoken in truth. I was stubborn and headstrong, but I wasn’t foolish. I knew when it was time to close my case without further argument. With a nod, I relented. “Yes, sir. Whatever you think is best.”
“Good girl,” Deo said with a smile, taking my napkin from me to tuck it into my lap. “I see our little discipline session is working already.”
“Little? I still can’t sit comfortably,” I muttered.
“Then I did a proper job,” Deo growled, the sound of absolute confidence causing me to lose the battle and fidget in my seat. “You’ve discovered that a tender, hot ass is a very good incentive to behave.”
Of course, the waiter showed up with food just in time to catch this last exchange. Carefully putting our plates down, the waiter eyed me curiously. If I didn’t die of sexual frustration, I was positive I would die of embarrassment.
Deo’s smile was self-satisfied. He knew how much I wanted him—he could probably smell it on me. Overwhelmed by carnal desire, I tried to gather myself. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. They popped back open wide when something cool and metallic was pressed into my hand.
With my fork securely transferred, he said, “I hope you don’t mind. I ordered for us from the car.”
I wanted to give a smart remark. But my bottom was still sore, and Deo was already peeved off by Andrew. I didn’t want to risk being turned over his knee in the middle of the busy pub. And, he was right. He’d done an exemplary job. The memory of every moment, both those of pain and pleasure ran through me.
“Eat,” Deo commanded. “You need your strength.” Deo ate a few bites of his fish, then leaning toward me, his brow furrowed, he said, “Promise me, Cassandra.”
“What?”
“Promise me you will remain faithful to our vows.” His deep voice was wrought with emotion.
My husband was so intense, taking in the world as if it were a constant battle. “Why do you take these vows so seriously, Deo? It’s just tradition, for crying out loud.”
Quickly and discreetly, Deo slid his hand from my face and grabbed the back of my neck under my hair, pulling my ear to his mouth. “You are my wife. And our marriage is a sacred union that you will treat with respect. Or, you will be crying out loud.” Turning my face to his, Deo pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was the same punishing one from last night, bruising my lips and lighting another part of me on fire all at once. Deo released me, a look of dominance crossing his face as he watched the flush rise in my cheeks.
I felt like a dog in heat. My bottom sore against the seat, the back of my neck tingling from his grasp, my lips abused by his love. Whatever had come over Deo was making me want him more than ever before. I was hungry to taste his power and feel his possession.
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“I promise, Deo.”
Deo analyzed my face, searching for the truth. Finally satisfied, he gave a small nod. “Finish your lunch, please.”
* * *
We’d finished our meal, but the dishes had not yet been cleared, when a soft ringing sounded.
“Excuse me,” Deo said, a look of displeasure flashing over his face as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.
“Of course,” I said though he’d already slid from the booth and had stepped away. I knew he thought it extremely rude to answer a phone or look at a tablet when having a meal with another person. The closest he’d ever come to breaking that rule was when he’d read the morning paper—until now. It didn’t truly matter that I could hear part of the conversation; Deo was speaking in Greek, far too quickly for me to even attempt to decipher the few words of the language I knew. After a few minutes, he glanced at me, his look intense as he continued to speak—this time in a tone that reminded me of last night, one that was not to be questioned or denied. Finally, he nodded and ended the call.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he offered his hand, helping me from the booth. “Yes, though I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet you for lunch tomorrow,” he said, holding my coat open to allow me to slip my arms inside. “I have to be away for a few days.”
As the head of a highly successful finance company, Deo’s presence was often in demand. While I was accustomed to him traveling, this time was different. My stomach fell in disappointment. I’d hoped to spend the night cradled in his arms—after experiencing the bliss I had last night. “How long will you be gone?”
His fingers worked to slip buttons of my coat into their holes and then to pull the belt around me, tying it around my waist. “As short a time as possible,” he said, moving his hands to cup my face. “Believe me, I’d much rather stay here with you.”
“Me too,” I said, pleased with his words. He dropped several bills on the table and then took my hand, leading me out of the pub.
“I’ll call you tonight,” he said, a hand behind my head as he bent down to kiss me. It was searing, demanding, a kiss that had every cell in my body coming alive. When he pulled away, it was only a fraction. “Behave yourself.”
Though he didn’t say more, something told me that even with him away, he’d know if I didn’t. “I will,” I said instead. “Hurry back.”
I watched as he climbed into the back of a sleek black car that pulled up to the curb. With a final wave, I turned to walk the few blocks back to my office. At the corner, waiting for the light to change, I looked over my shoulder, wondering if the car had yet to pull away. Not seeing it, I shook my head, stepping off the curb with the others waiting to cross the street. Get a grip, girl. No one is watching you. I smiled as that inner voice felt it necessary to add, though I suggest you do be that good girl you promised to be.