I lean back in my chair, facing the large window at the back of my office. From here, the skyline is quiet, moving slowly underneath me. Nothing at all like the reality of being on the busy streets of the city. From up here, it’s calming. The steel and glass shine with a sleek beauty that radiates a sense of power.

I tap my thumb along the armrest of the chair, thinking about the other night. The phone on my desk rings and it draws my attention, but I hit the button to silence it. I don’t need any interruptions right now. I rise from my seat and walk to the window. Last night was more enjoyable than I thought it would be. It was a success as well. Andrea and the agency are pleased with the article that’ll be going live at some point today online and hitting the magazines tomorrow.

Most Eligible Bachelor is on the Dating Scene. …how inaccurate. I sigh deeply and ignore the ill feelings stirring in the pit of my stomach. I’d rather stay away from the press altogether, but I’ve chosen this course of action. I’ll see it through.

One thing I hadn’t quite prepared was my reaction to taking my sweet treasure out. Her lack of understanding is drawing me in more than I ever thought it would. I’m actually excited to take her to the club tonight. I never thought I’d get the same thrill from Club X that I once had. But it’s ringing in my blood.

There’s something bothering her though. It was obvious with the way she was hesitating last night. I don’t like it. I don’t like her keeping secrets from me.

I’ve arranged for a private room tonight so I can get to the bottom of it. I’m sure a little orgasm denial will get her talking. Especially considering how disappointed she was last night before I took her out. An asymmetric grin kicks my lips up. She didn’t fuss with her punishment though. She didn’t argue with me. She’s so fucking perfect, and she has absolutely no idea.

It’s hard to believe she had no experience as a Sub before this. I remember our conversation about her ex, and the curiosity rises in me once again.

I walk back to my desk and click on the emails. Isaac should have a good bit of detail for me on Dahlia’s last relationships. She’s had social media profiles for years, so her background check and history will be sent to me shortly. Maybe I should feel ashamed for digging into her past and violating her privacy… but I don’t. Not in the least. She’s my Submissive, and therefore my responsibility.

Isaac’s a professional. He’s worked in security for years, and I can trust him. It’s not the first time I’ve asked him to look into someone and he’s done it with no questions asked.

My phone rings again, and I stare at it with irritation before finally lifting it off the hook and begrudgingly answering it.

“Stone.”

“Mr. Stone, it’s Andrea.” I recognize her voice instantly. Andrea sounds less than her usual chipper self. She sounds nervous, and the realization makes me stand tall.

“Yes,” I say in an even tone.

The sounds of her clearing her throat fill the phone as I wait with tense shoulders. Whatever it is, she can just spit it out. It better not have a damn thing to do with the article or my comment though. “My comment about Miss Days-”

“Mr. Stone, it’s about your wife.”

“Ex-wife.” I’m quick to correct her. Unconsciously my ring finger twitches as I think about how a ring will never lay there again.

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your ex-wife. She’s taking this to a different level now.”

I huff a humorless laugh. “We took care of that problem, didn’t we?” With the photo and an agreement to several articles over the course of a month or so, the magazines are going for the hotter news and bigger paycheck.

I walk closer to the large window and look down at the tiny cars as they move slowly under me. Seemingly so slow. “She’s decided that she’s going to do a tell-all book now.”

I grit my teeth, hating that she just won’t let it go. What is it that she thinks is worth telling, exactly? A failed marriage because I worked too fucking much? I put a ring on the finger of a woman who was more interested in a paycheck than our relationship. I don’t know how I let her fool me.

And as far as my perversions that she’s willing to throw in my face, her tastes were far more extreme than my own. I take in a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

“What exactly is in this book?” I dare to ask.

“Mr. Stone,” she says, then hesitates on the line. “According to the publisher who we’ve been in contact with,” she hesitates again for a moment, “the book will have pictures of the aftermath of your sexual encounters.”

My heart stills as she continues. Pictures? “There’s no way for her to be able to verify that they were taken at the time of your marriage and I’m sure your lawyer will be able to prevent their use, but if this were to be leaked it would certainly be detrimental to your image.”

“Pictures?”

“They make it appear as though there were bruises and several abrasions.” Her voice remains strong as she says, “The way it’s written leaves a lot of implications. The editor and publisher have been in contact because of potential lawsuits.”

Anger slowly rises in me as I close my eyes.

Never. I never leave marks, never leave cuts. Even when I picked up my first whip, I learned then the importance of only bringing the blood to the surface. Just enough force to redden the skin and create a wave of endorphins. I’ve never bruised anyone. Never. It’s simply not my kink. She wants to paint herself as a victim. Probably even more so, she wants to paint me as a villain.

Andrea speaks before I’m able to respond.

“I’m certain these pictures are fabricated, Mr. Stone. Especially considering the toxicity of your divorce.”

“You are correct,” I answer her in a tight voice.

“They would have come up before, had there been any truth at all to what she’s implying. The problem is that there’s no way for us to prove this. The best possible line of defense would be for you to continue this relationship with your...“ The rustling of paper in the background fills the silence.

“Dahlia.” I say her name as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Yes, Miss Days.”

“Is she saying I beat her?” I have to ask. “She’s claiming abuse?” Even after everything we went through, I never thought she’d stoop so low. I loved her. I loved the woman I thought she was.

I’d never do anything to hurt her. Not like that. She loved the paddle, but it was only for play, only to intensify her pleasure. There was never a bruise on her body.

“She is.” The truth slams against my chest as I lean against the window, the cool glass on my palms. “The wording is ambiguous, so you’ll have to speak with Mr. Harris on that matter.” Her voice is soft and laced with sympathy.

I clear my throat and reply, “I understand. Thank you, Andrea.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stone.” The words hang stale in the air as I tell her goodbye and listen to the soft click on the other end.

I hold the phone in my hand, long after the line has gone dead. I can’t believe I was ever fooled by that woman. I loved her. I know I did, and I was so fucking wrong about her and everything.

I push away from the window at the sound of a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I call out, setting the phone back down where it belongs.

“Mr. Stone,” Linda enters with a mug of coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. She walks briskly to my desk, setting them each down before smoothing her skirt while looking up at me with a smile.

It instantly vanishes when she sees my expression. “Is everything alright?” she asks.

I give her a tight smile and ignore the concern in her voice.

“Fine.” I sift through the stack and recognize the contracts that are due today. “I’ll sign these after lunch.” It’s nothing that can’t wait.

Linda stands there for a moment and I can see she wants to pry, but she presses her lips into a thin line and nods her head. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?” she asks.

“Of course.” She leaves silently and the phone rings again. There are emails and meetings, contracts and press conferences. I don’t feel like doing any of them.

I know exactly what I do want though. I silence the phone and grab my cell phone from the desk.

Dahlia’s number is right there from when she called last night.

She didn’t stay over last night. I had a four a.m. meeting with a company in Singapore. But she called when she got back to her place. Just like I told her to.

She’s not perfect, but she’s the perfect Submissive for me. She gives it her best effort. The training is the best part, and of course I always give her what she needs after she’s thanked me for her punishment. I got very lucky with her.

I press send and listen to the phone ring… and ring.

She doesn’t have work or classes today. I almost brought her into the office, but decided against it so that I could focus. But I need her now.

Of course she’s not fucking answering the phone.

I call again rather than leaving a message, and again it goes to voicemail.

Today has been a very trying day and I don’t want to take it out on my sweet Submissive. I take in a deep breath, running my hands through my hair.

She’s just busy for the moment. My desk phone rings as I breathe out and I glare at it. Hating the constant reminder that I’m stuck here instead of being with her. I’m tense and on edge. Close to ripping this fucking office apart.

I could do what I’ve done for the past three years. I could go to my gym and take my aggression out there. But I want to fuck. I want the exertion. I need the release.

I want to unwind and get lost in the feel of her tempting body.

You need to answer when I call you.

I press send on the text and sit in my seat, ignoring yet another phone call. I have actual work to do and I pay my lawyer and the agency enough money to take care of these problems for me. I should just let it roll off my shoulders and get this contract completed, but now I’m fixated on my treasure.

I go through at least a dozen emails, all with only partial focus. I keep thinking about Dahlia. Wondering what she’s doing. I should know. I own her right now. My eyes dart from the screen to my phone.

Ten minutes later, and still nothing.

I expect you to be available for me at all times. I send the text, feeling the anger rise higher.

She knows this. Dahlia’s a smart woman. She’s intelligent and knows the rules of this relationship. She’s never been a Submissive, but she knows enough.

And I fucking paid for her. If I wanted I could have her at my feet right now, sucking me off. My dick instantly hardens with need at the thought. That’s exactly what should be happening right now.

I understand she’s busy, and that she wasn’t expecting me. I hold on to the last thought. I can be reasonable. My expectations weren’t made clear, and I assumed too much. She should know to wait for my call. But I haven't explicitly told her.

Anger simmers on the surface; I paid for her. Her time is mine, and I’ve been generous. Maybe too generous.

This is my fault, but when I get my hands on her, I’ll make sure this never happens again.