Chapter Seven

Joanne tried to slink out of the bedroom. She hesitated in the doorway when a sleepy groan sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a deep breath to calm her rising libido.

It was unfair for a man to have such a gorgeous ass. Damn, but he felt so good under my hands last night.

Her eyes were glued to the enticing curve of Max’s gluteus maximus that flexed when he turned on his side. The temptation to crawl back into bed and caress the strong lines of his muscled body kept her feet rooted to the floor.

Get a grip, Joanne. Don’t forget that he broke your heart and that last night was nothing more than sex.

With a regretful and appreciative glance at his naked body, she forced herself to leave the room.

She roamed around Max's house, surprised at the size of the place. It was suburban, a grand old Bel Air Chateau style mansion with gorgeous landscaped gardens, fountains and a little dock on the Potomac River bank. The interior décor was stylish, with period furniture and a muted color scheme that showcased the design of the house, with ornate chandeliers, a breathtaking fireplace, and sumptuous chase lounges; yet it was inviting with the comfort of a home being lived in. It was the complete opposite to the lifestyle he used to live while in L.A. His home there had been ultra-modern industrial chic place; suited for a bachelor.

Max used to be a high flyer in those years. To be honest, she’d believed he still was. He had owned the most luxurious penthouse in Santa Monica, drove a Porsche and basked in the attention he got from the opposite sex. His sense of humor, confidence and overall sex appeal was the flame to their moths. Max had never needed to chase any woman. They fell into his lap. Literally.

Joanne had believed that he would realize he’d made a mistake and make up with her. He never did. Instead, he moved to DC with Rhone and Keon to set up their business and open Club Devil’s Cove—leaving her behind in L.A., lost and alone.

That was when she’d realized what a fool she’d been to wait for Max, hoping they would find each other again. It had been the reason she’d grasped at the opportunity to get out of the country. A chance to find who and what she really was without him always encroaching her mind.

She shook off the thought. It was in the past. The morning was too beautiful to allow bad memories to spoil her first day back in the States.

She wandered toward Max’s study. She stood in the doorway and glanced around in awe. He’d always been a gizmo freak. This room was a personification of exactly who and what Max had become; an IT expert—or more accurately—a master at his craft.

Joanne glanced over her shoulder toward the staircase. This was his domain; his sanctuary and she had a feeling he didn’t allow anyone into his space. Curiosity got the better of her. Her legs were shaking as she walked deeper into the room. She was trespassing, and she imagined the walls and furniture glaring at her in reproach. The soft light from the early morning sun cast a warm glow to the interior of the room. The walls were painted burnt orange and highlighted with reds―Max’ favorite colors. The furniture was rustic and dark; the sofas were liberally dotted with vibrant cushions.

 “Oh my god,” she exclaimed as her gaze found the large, colorful oil painting of the South African artist, Portchie, on the main wall. “He kept it.”

She walked closer and gently traced the three children on the canvas, each flying a kite, with a dam, a windmill and a farmhouse in the background. The painting was a riot of colors—yellow, red and blue. It was one of the oil paintings from Portchie’s Simple Joys Collection. It portrayed family, friendship and tranquility. Joanne had been honored to meet the artist during a trip to South Africa as an intern. She’d been drawn to the painting because it had reminded her of the carefree years of following her brother and Max around.

She still recalled how Max had teased her when she brought the painting to his house, the day she moved in with him. It had stood out like a sore thumb amongst his modern, abstract paintings.

“Really, baby? Where do you intend to hang that? In the bathroom, I hope,” he scoffed.

“Pfft. This painting has more meaning than all the circles and squares you have hanging around your house. No, Max, it will have the honorable spot right in the entrance hall.”

“Over my dead body!”

In the end, she’d won the battle. Thinking back, he hadn’t put up that much of a fight. That he’d never returned it to her with the rest of her things, but kept it after she’d left, had been a surprise.

“Max will always be an enigma, that’s for sure,” she mumbled and turned to his desk. She trailed her fingertips over the edge of the dark mahogany wood. It was a massive monstrosity, which still managed to look cluttered with four computer keyboards and other equipment covering the surface. The desk faced a wall of television monitors. Six in total.

“It still amazes me how he . . .” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly found herself looking into her own eyes. She picked up the silver picture frame with a photo of her.

“Tilt your head, luv. The way the sun catches your hair makes you look like an angel from heaven. My angel. Perfect!”

That had been the day he’d asked her to be his permanent sub and move in with him. He’d taken her to a secluded lodge in the mountains. It had been idyllic. They’d been dating on the sly for four months at the time.

“Yeah, only I had been too naïve to understand that he meant a non-exclusive D/s relationship.”

She sighed deeply. The sound conveyed profound sadness. Her hands suddenly felt cold. She rubbed then vigorously. She was more shaken at finding her photo on his desk, right there, than she cared to admit.

“What does it mean? Why? Why Max? Why keep my photo close to you when you didn’t want me?”

The night of debauchment they’d just shared flashed through her mind. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe that was all it was, maybe all it had ever been to Max. Sex, dominance and what he used to call, her sweet submission. Her heart skipped a beat. It hurt, thinking about it.

“I can’t live through that again. I have to get away,” she said while she mulled her thoughts over. She needed to gather her thoughts. Her life had come to a standstill a year ago and she had to decide what she was going to do in the future.

“I can't allow him to take control of me and my life. Not again―definitely not like he had before.”

She'd been too young to realize that she'd been completely floored by his dominant side. She had enjoyed being sexually controlled. Max had taught her how to channel her emotions and needs to find the true woman inside.

Am I ready for it? To have Max in my life, day in and day out again?

She was already heading toward the garage when the question slipped past her lips. She couldn’t face Max. Not this morning. Not until she had her emotions under control.

Joanne had loved Max since she’d been a little girl. It was something that had never faded, not even after they’d broken up. She doubted it ever would. He was it for her. Her soulmate, the one who fed her desires, her needs and challenged her every emotion, thought and action.

“But next time—if there is going to be one—it will be on my terms.”

She grabbed a set of car keys from the foyer and within minutes the powerful purr of Max's Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Vitesse filled the confines of the garage.

“Oh my! Listen to that. You have some serious horsepower under that hood, doncha, baby?”

Joanne had read an article about the car and knew he must’ve imported it from Germany. “At an exorbitant price no less. Well, little lady, let’s see what you can do,” she said with a wide smile. She eased the car out of the garage and drove slowly through the gate. Max would have her head on a platter for taking this car and not the SUV, but she suppressed the thought. He’d always treated his sports cars like his babies.

“Whoaaa!” She exclaimed as the car surged ahead with so much power that she was pushed back into the seat. “Better take it easy, I guess.” She eased her foot off the accelerator and took the corner at a slower speed.

The year in Saudi Arabia had taught Joanne many skills. She’d honed her sense of direction―a necessity in the desert if you wanted to survive. She didn’t know Washington DC very well, although she had been there a couple of times. She took a couple of wrong turns, but soon found the route she was looking for and directed the car toward the safe house in Cabin John, where they’d left the rescued women. She needed to make sure they were all fine and settling in well.

Joanne had promised to get them out and she was elated that Max had found her and helped in their escape. Now, it was a long road to recovery for them. She just wished she’d been able to keep them safe from the forced slavery they’d had to endure―even the ones she’d rescued from the Qara tribe had to continue as sex slaves in Yabreen. Without passports, they would’ve ended up under even worse circumstances, especially when she’d found out how corrupt the government was under the rule of Prince Khalid, they couldn’t take the chance of approaching the embassy. Instead, Joanne had ensured that they were treated with human dignity, without exposing her own disguise. It had been ten times better than what they’d had to endure under Sheikh Lufti. It won’t be easy to find their feet after a year of debasement and sexual abuse. Mentally, most of them would need therapy to recover and find the strength to build their lives from new.

* * * * * * * *

“Hmm, heaven! I missed a good old American breakfast,” Morgan Adler, who had become a good friend to Joanne, declared appreciatively as she took a bite of fluffy scrambled eggs.

Joanne eyed her plate, which was piled high with eggs, bacon, sausages and pancakes.

“Are you gonna eat all of that?”

Morgan slanted a sideways look at her. “Of course, I am. I’ve always had a healthy appetite. Just because I was forced to live off scraps for a year, doesn’t mean I’m going to continue. Oh, no, my dear friend, I’m back home and I’m going to enjoy every fucking scrumptious morsel!”

Joanne laughed and piled her plate with pancakes and honey. “Let’s hope your metabolism is game.” She gestured at the food with her fork. “At this rate you’ll be rolling in no time.”

Morgan snorted. “I have a very healthy metabolism. I can eat as much as I want and not pick up a pound.”

“Why did they choose us? To become sex slaves, I mean? Why us, out of millions of women?” Baily, a petite blond asked. She’d been one of the women who had relied on Joanne for emotional support.

“Because we were unattached,” Morgan said. “Grown-up orphans, so to speak. None of us have any family, and from what I know of most of you, hardly any friends at the time. It was easy to make us disappear without anyone looking for us.”

“Yeah, and the women who arrived after us were the same,” another of the women retorted.

Joanne did her best to keep her expression impassive. It was something she’d often wondered about. She hadn’t fitted the criteria like the other women had. She had family—a very loving family, who according to Max, had been shattered when she had disappeared. She decided to bank her thoughts to mull over at a later stage. Someone had wanted her to be a victim of human trafficking. The more she pondered it, the more she realized that she was chosen for a specific reason and it hadn’t been a random choice. Someone had wanted her out of the way―out of the United States.

A commotion at the front door drew their attention. Heavy footsteps followed the loud slam of the door. A couple of the women whimpered and huddled together.

“Joanne Katherine Blackmore!”

“Oh shit,” she mumbled. She stuffed her mouth full of pancakes to hide her relief when she heard Max’s gruff roar as it bounced off the walls.

“In trouble so soon, my friend?” Morgan quipped as she stared expectantly at the door. “Now there is one male specimen that I wouldn’t mind kicking his boots under my bed,” she purred when Max appeared in the doorway.

“Get your ass into the study, Joanne. Now.”

“A very good morning to you to, Mr. Grumpy,” she said with a full mouth.

“There’s been nothing good about my morning―at least, not yet,” he growled ominously.

“Yep, definitely deep in the shit, I’d say,” Morgan teased around another bite. Her eyes glimmered with interest as she glanced between the two.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Ms. Blackmore,” Max warned and stood to the side, pointing toward a door in the hallway.

Joanne stared into his sapphire blue eyes that blazed with annoyance. Her heart fell silent. She couldn’t recall that she’d ever seen Max angry. Upset—maybe, but never like this, with a fury that simmered just below the surface. He looked on the verge of exploding.

Max didn't say another word, just stomped toward her, yanked her out of the chair and hauled her over his shoulder.

“Hey! Do you need some help, honey?” Morgan cried in the wake of the disappearing couple, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice.

“Put me down, you asshole!” Joanne shrieked angrily, pummeling his back with her fists. It was embarrassing to say the least, to be treated like a sack of potatoes in front of her friends.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ooow! That fucking hurt, Maximilian!” She grabbed his shirt to keep her face from bumping into his very scrumptious ass she’d admired earlier that morning. She was too shocked at his caveman tactics to use her fighter skills.

“It was supposed to,” he barked. He kicked the door closed before he planted her in a chair. “Now, sit there and don’t even move a small toe. Is that clear?”

“As crystal,” she snapped, her voice cold and her eyes shooting daggers at him. She folded her hands demurely on her lap and waited. Her chin tilted higher as she glared at him, even though her heart hammered against her chest. She searched for some sign of the anger diminishing in his eyes. It was too much to hope for. Max was livid at her.

His eyes dropped to her breasts. His eyes flared and with complete disregard, he brazenly traced the tip of his finger over the slope of her breast.

“I still cringe at the thought of these beauties being abused for so long, wrapped up so tight,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Joanne’s breath caught in her throat. She cursed when her nipples immediately perked into hard nubs. She never could control the effect his touch had on her. After the amount of sex they’d had the night before, she was still helpless against his touch.

Joanne was completely lost in the look he directed at her. The emotions that she saw swirling in his eyes confused and elated her simultaneously.

“Max―”

His eyes turned tumultuous, filled with a newfound anger at the soft lilt of her voice. He battled to breathe, still choked up from the fear that had seized him when he’d woken up and couldn’t find her. He’d shouted her name and searched the house like a madman. Fear had ruled him in that moment. He was on the verge of contacting Rhone when he’d found his Bugatti gone. He’d immediately locked into the GPS tracking system of the car. He only breathed normally once he’d found it stationary at the safe house coordinates.

Max looked at her. Her beauty stunned him, even without a speck of makeup―maybe because of that. Joanne was a natural beauty. For the second time in one morning, he had trouble breathing.

He started when his loins began to throb. He didn’t think he’d be able to get a rise out of his cock for a week after the number of times he’d fucked her the previous night. He couldn’t get enough of her.

One thing that had cemented in his heart during the course of the night was that she was his. She belonged to him—body, heart, and soul; whether she realized it or not. And this time, Max would make sure he didn’t fuck up with her.

When he’d woken up to find her gone, he’d realized just how much he loved her; he always had, but he hadn’t been ready for a monogamous relationship years ago. After last night, he suddenly found that it was the only thing he wanted.

He wanted her, Joanne Katherine Blackmore.

In his life.

In his bed.

In his arms.

In his heart.

And he was prepared to fight dirty to get what he wanted.

The collar was locked around her throat before she realized what he was doing.

“What the hell, Max?” She jumped up and stomped toward the large mirror on the one wall. “Holy shit, is that a real diamond?” She croaked as she stared at her reflection.

There was a delicious moment where her face was awash with confusion, like her brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in what she was staring at. She gingerly touched the collar. It was a piece by French designers, Alfred Van Cleef & Estelle Arpels. A black leather collar with a Capriccio pear-shape diamond set in white gold in the center. The 14-carat diamond was flanked by a zipper detail of baguette diamonds. It was clearly a statement piece, very much a reflection of the artists, who were married hundred years ago. It had a quiet elegance that stole her breath. It hugged her throat like the arms of a lover.

“What’s the meaning of this, Maximilian? You can’t just . . . you can’t just slap a collar around my neck!” She forced the words past her lips, praying at the same time that he wouldn’t remove it. It felt right, like it was made for her.

“I should’ve given it to you five years ago,” he said quietly. “I was right. It is the perfect design. It fits you, baby.”

She spun around. “You had it made five years ago?”

He shrugged his shoulders. His eyes narrowed. “We digress. I have a more urgent matter to discuss.”

Max began to pace the room with his face set and his mouth flattened into a grim line. Joanne settled in the chair. Her fingers couldn’t seem to let go of the collar. A small smile played around her lips as she watched him, quietly elated. He always paced to get his thoughts in order. It was no use pushing him. He would talk when he was ready.

“My life was easy, nothing managed to surprise me, and I preferred it that way. I taught myself at a young age to have low expectations―expect little and people will surpass it with ease,” Max’s voice sounded far away, almost like he was gazing into himself—outside in. “High expectations are a one-way ticket to disappointment. There’s only one person I depend on―myself. Yeah, I believe that low expectations were the secret ticket to being happy.” He turned and looked at her. “But not when it comes to you, baby.”

He resumed his pacing. “You turned everything I believe in, upside down. Suddenly, the most important person in my life had expectations, from me. The realization imploded inside me. I couldn’t deal with it objectively. I didn’t have expectations from you . . . about us,” his voice lowered. “But you did.”

“My expectations weren’t―”

“Quiet. You don’t get to talk now.”

“But, Maximilian, I . . . HMMM,” she sputtered against the ball gag that he’d just jammed between her teeth and tied into place. He caught her hands when she tried to yank it off and with efficient movements cuffed her hands behind her back.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come prepared, luv?”

Joanne sent him a scorching look. He shrugged it off and he continued to pace. He had been debating how to articulate his thoughts on the way over and now, facing her, everything flew out the window. All he could think of was that she was safe and that it was his duty to keep her that way.

Easier said than done, Maximilian.

He turned to look at her. The purple hue of her eyes darkened as she watched him. He could read the confusion in her eyes. He realized she was just as shaken by the gloriously satisfying night that they had shared. But maybe claiming her so blatantly hadn’t been an astute move. He was still squarely in the dog house as far as Joanne was concerned.

She yanked her tied arms and glowered at him, rolling her eyes toward her mouth in an obvious attempt to order him to remove the gag. He couldn’t keep a naughty smile off his face. Joanne hated wearing a ball gag, more so now, when she couldn’t snap at him.

“Not yet, baby. Not until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“Phen hulk!”

“Hmm, I find it amusing that subs believe that we understand their garble through the gag . . . but you’re right, it’s time to talk.”

He jammed his hands into his pants’ pockets. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I found you gone this morning, Joanne? I fucking almost slipped a disc running down the stairs, looking for you.” The scowl on his face gave him an ominous look.

Joanne felt contrite. She should’ve left him a note and not just ran off. It was inconsiderate of her.

“All I could think of was that somehow they’d found out who and what you really are and took you back. Do you have any fucking idea of the thoughts that went through my mind, Joanne? Do you have any idea what they would do to you if they realized that you’ve betrayed them? A female playing a man’s role in a predominantly male oriented society?”

Joanne’s cheeks flamed. “I’ot upid!”

“No, you were very clever in your disguise, which would make it twice as bad should your betrayal come to light. Because, believe me, that is how they will see it. Do you know how females are punished there for betrayal? Do you!”

“Yeph!” Joanne jumped up and stumbled toward him. She pressed her body against his.

Max’s arms closed automatically around her shivering body. He cursed sotto voce. It hadn’t been his intention to scare her, but his own fears had been driving him. He couldn’t lose her again.

He cupped her cheeks and tilted back her head. “I don’t want to scare you, baby, but you have to realize you need to be alert. At all times. I’ll go out of my mind if I lose you again.”

He saw the question form in her eyes and realized what he’d just said. He studied her expression. She did a good job of hiding what she was feeling and for once, Max found it difficult to decipher her emotions. His sigh trickled like honey from a spoon. He removed the gag and gently wiped her lips and cheeks dry.

“I don’t understand you, Maximilian. You didn’t want me five years ago. Now, within a day of my return, you slap a collar around my neck and talk like you . . . like we―”

“I never said I didn’t want you, Joanne. I’ve always wanted you and that hasn’t changed.”

“You chased me away!”

“Because you were too young to deal with my lifestyle, Joanne. You needed time to mature, to be able to understand and feel what it was that I needed from our relationship.”

“Bullshit, Max! You enjoyed fucking a variety of women too much, to be saddled with monogamy,” Joanne fumed at the memory.

“That was only part of it, baby.”

“I am not your fucking baby! Untie me. Now,” she ordered in a clipped tone. She dragged in a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry I left without leaving a message. I should’ve realized it would upset you but I’m not an idiot, Maximilian. I learned to be street smart over there. I’m always alert. No one will ever force me into anything again.” Her eyes bored into his. “Not even you.”

“You should know me better than that, Jo. I have never forced a woman in my life and I’m not about to start now.”

“No? I suppose I was imagining this collar around my throat?”

“You don’t like it?” His eyes dropped to the leather and diamond collar that looked so perfect around her neck. He held his breath as he waited for her response. He’d had it made a week before they’d broken up. If not for the fight that had ended their relationship, he would’ve given it to her long ago.

“It’s beautiful, Max, it really is, but what I want to know, is the meaning of it.”

Max stepped away from her. He considered his response and opted for indifference. He’d leave the choice to her―for now.

“You know what it means, Jo. It’s your choice if it stays or goes but know this, if you decide to wear it, you will be mine and submit to me, especially when we step inside Club Devil’s Cove.”

Max removed the cuffs and gently rubbed her wrists.

“Now, let’s join the ladies. I’m starving.” With those words, he stuffed the cuffs and the gag into his pocket and sauntered through the door toward the dining room.

Joanne stared after him, her mouth agape, completely stumped. Whatever she'd expected him to say, it hadn't been that. But the obvious relief in his eyes had said it all. He'd truly been petrified to find her gone this morning.

Her eyes caught the glimmer of the diamonds in the mirror. She gawked at her reflection once again. She knew without giving it any thought―there was no way in hell she was removing that collar.

“But if he thinks it’s going to be a walk in the park to get me back, I have a surprise in store for him.” She squared her shoulders. The smile that curved her lips upward, gave her a vivacious appearance. “Oh yes, Maximilian Shaw, this time, you’re gonna have to work for it. My love and submission come for a price. Let’s see if you’re willing to pay it.”