Sunday evening – there was still time to reach Josh before he left to take the red eye back to the East coast. A stretch was waiting for me on the quay. When I slipped gingerly into the empty huge back seat, I told the chauffeur to take me to The Fairmont.

“Miss, I have instructions to bring you back to Napa,” he informed me, starting the engine as though it was settled.

“No,”I announced, suddenly livid that everyone thought they could order me around. “You will take me to The Fairmont where I have to take care of some business.”

I had to see Josh and ask him to help me get away from Valentine. I was afraid if I went back to the Winery, he’d never let me leave. Darkness had fallen when we arrived at the stately hotel. I hurtled from the car almost throwing the valet back on his ass in my haste. My mind was a complete fog over Josh’s room number. That was even if I had noticed it after our muddling altercation in the elevator.

“Mr Perrine checked out an hour ago,” the desk clerk told me, clicking across his keyboard snootily.

Shit.

I raced back through the doors, wondering how I could get an Uber and discovered Valentine’s stretch was still idling out front. As though he knew I’d be back. The unsurprised valet was ready for me this time and I was soon in the back seat.

“Take me to the airport,” I ordered the driver. Expecting a negative, I was surprised he merely gave an imperceptible nod as he put the car into glide.

I dashed into the terminal like some goof out of a romantic comedy movie, running at full throttle while startled travelers jumped out of my path. I ran like I was heading for the tape across an Olympic sprint. Had I been allowed access to the departure lounge I would have found Josh. Surrounded by a sea of tight red suits and matching high heels, being escorted onto the plane like a king with his retinue of stewardesses.

My immediate impulse to buy a ticket and get the next available red eye was squashed when I realized I had no money, no cards, no ID and no underwear. Could it get any worse? The last time I’d asked that question was the initiation into this crazy life I was currently living. And sure it could get worse because now I was stranded at the airport with my crazy life upended on its ass.

I walked back outside the terminal, dejected and fearful, wondering what on earth I should do now.

“Can we go home now?” the driver stood beside me like a toy soldier.

His rolling eyes indicated he’d indulged my hot pursuit enough. I surrendered and climbed in through the door he held open for me, illegally waiting at the curb. The airport traffic control guards that blew whistles and screamed at any vehicle that stopped more than ten seconds at the door were somehow blind to Valentine’s stretch.

I leaned back into the soft leather, once I’d pulled a split of Vals from the refrigerator and inserted a savvy sipper into the bottle neck. Valentine was the genius who had invented the little cone that allowed you to drink champagne right out of the bottle. It had apparently netted him even more billions.

I was lost. With no means and nowhere to go, there was absolutely no choice for me other than to return to the winery and submit to Valentine again. With every repulsion known to a woman, I had zero desire to ever see his handsome arrogant face of superiority again.

It was late when we pulled up smoothly outside the Château and no one was about. It wasn't until the following morning I thought of how I'd have to face not only my domineering lordly boss but also the wicked assistant, depraved dominatrix Delilah. I recoiled from the prospect of facing her, which encourage me to decide I’d rip up my fake contract in front of Valentine.

With my giddy impatience for reprisal, I slipped out of the smooth sheets into a warm bath doused with the fragrant oil that turned to revitalizing fragrant milk, releasing a springtime rush of the aroma of bluebells, the instant it hit the water. I tried calling Josh back in New York, I owed him an explanation for why I hadn't made it back to the hotel. Three attempts all went straight to V-mail and I decided he was pissed and I should stop stalking for now

It was already way past lunch when I stormed into Valentine's office, past caring if my female dom was poring or pouring over him, like always. The interior design contract between us was a sham. Created solely for the purpose of getting me out to the West Coast. I intended to inform him right now that I wanted out of it.

I didn't care if he thought I was caving in, or running away from whatever Delilah had brought up within me. All that mattered was that I escaped the emotional and psychological roller coaster Valentine had me running along on his track and make sure I didn't lose any more precious momentum in my career.

“Andie, good you’re here at last,” Valentine spoke without looking up and she was at his side like always. The bullet boobs jutting up just for him.

“I hope you enjoyed your extra time off in the city,” he quipped.

Bastard.

Of course he knew that I’d insisted on being to driven back to the hotel Josh was staying at and he knew that I continued the chase to the airport. Whatever

“I do hope you're ready to get back to work now,” he added, still not looking at me.

“Yeah about that,” I interrupted him for the first time ever and finally he looked up in a surprise.

I started to continue my speech but he held his hand up for silence.

“Your crew are waiting for your instructions and it's costing me money every hour they're sitting around on the job.” He bored those limpid eyes into me from behind his desk, challenging me to do more. “You wanted to say something?”

“No. I'll get right down there. I'm ready to start.”

“How generous of you.”

What else could I do we had a contract and he knew it. There was no way out for me.

“Wait,” he commanded in the rumble of distant thunder voice. “D please leave us for a moment, I have a proposition to discuss with Ms. Cannon.”

Delilah inclined her head and split with me spitting at her inside like a feral cat. Valentine sat across from me observing me closely, delving into me with his eyes as he declined to penetrate me with any other part of himself. He was driving me completely whack with his blatant refusal to into my body. I needed him beyond all rational want, so bad that I thought I might literally go mad.

Weren’t there true life stories of that kind of hysteria in history? I think I read about Lord Byron driving some woman insane by withdrawing his possession of her. The emotional examination was excruciating and what I needed was for Valentine to stop toying with me and decide to either let me in or let me go.

“Why are you doing this? All you ever want to do is humiliate me.”

“Because of your disobedience,” he replied.

“He's my boyfriend and I'm supposed to be your employee.”

I was losing touch with what was going on here

“He is not your boyfriend,” Valentine exploded.

“You only want me because he wants me,” I cried, sick of Valentine's jealous competition with my boyfriend.

Whatever there was or had been between them as kids, whatever reason Valentine had for putting Josh through school and then estranging himself, I was not the pawn to be used between them in a battle of control.

“Are you sure about that, Andy?” Valentine said, once more as calm as a Zen master. “All we ever sure of the reality we think we see? Because what if the truth is that he only wants you because I do?”

Ohmigod, my knee joint went loose and my thoughts tangled into a tight knot were all ends doubled back on themselves. Josh wants me because Valentine wants me? Valentine wants me. Was that his way of admitting he had feelings? Even though he found it excruciating to tolerate the vulnerability of anyone observing his emotions, he was trying to tell me he had some – for me?

“Do you not understand that I need you to obey me?” he rasped.

And I need you. I need you to surrender to me just as much.