Dark Control (Dark Dominance 1)

“If anybody has questions, you can answer them, can’t you? Call me tomorrow. Tell me how everything went.”

I watched helplessly as Goodluck bailed on his huge opening show. All the fair trade champagne I’d ordered, all the organic canapes I’d sourced… Now that he was gone, people would leave. I sighed as a couple dozen art groupies followed him out the door.

God, since when did he have a cat?

The din in the room calmed down, and I took a breath. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter. Sure, all my hard work to put this party together was wasted, but he was my boss, and he got to do whatever he wanted. I’d try to entertain everyone as best I could, although I didn’t have Goodluck’s ability to introduce bizarre, unrelated topics from thin air.

I felt a touch on my bare arm, soft enough to send a shiver through my body in the stifling room. I turned, expecting to hear someone’s displeasure that Goodluck had already left.

Instead I saw a suit, a tie, and dark hazel eyes. His classic ghost of a smile, to match the ghost I was turning into. “Hello, Juliet.”

I held my sweater tighter and stared at Fort, wondering how long he’d been here. How had I missed him? “Hello,” I said. He looked the same, which is to say, he looked beautiful and powerful, a lion in this room of wildebeests. My heart pounded at his proximity. Even after all these months, after how we’d parted, adrenaline surged and my painful crush reawakened. I switched into polite-hostess mode to cope. “Thank you so much for coming to Goodluck’s opening.”

“I’m happy to support our business partner.” He looked around, running a hand down the front of his suit. “The new photographs are beautiful.”

“Did you have some champagne? It’s responsibly sourced.”

He clasped his hands in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. “No. I try not to drink in stressful situations. I learned that from a friend.”

His tie was embossed with gold and green vines the same color as his eyes. I looked past him into the thinning crowd.

“Are you busy?” he asked. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

“About what?” I sounded defensive, and I felt cold now that the room was emptier. I started pulling my sweater back on.

He reached to help me when I couldn’t find the other sleeve. “I wanted to tell you that sales are up thirty-three percent since the ad campaign,” he said.

“Wow. That’s great.”

“Also…” He paused and smoothed a hand over his tie. It was a nice tie. I waited for his next words but they never came. Instead he gazed at my neck, and I fingered the choker I wore. It wasn’t a collar. It looked nothing like a collar, but…

The last time we’d stood this close, he’d grabbed me around the waist and kissed me, his big hand holding my face. The problem is, this can’t go anywhere. He’d said that, I remembered his exact words. We would never work out.

I came to my senses and took a step back. “I’m glad your ad campaign was successful. It’s done a lot for Goodluck’s brand as well.” I waved a hand toward the door. “He left early, but if he was here, I’m sure he’d thank you. And now… I really…”

“At least come and meet my friends.”

He took my arm and led me across the gallery before I had a chance to refuse. His other hand settled on my back, a proprietary touch. Did he mean it that way, or was it my overwrought, regrettable attraction to him?

He stopped in front of a blond man with a dark-haired nymph on his arm. She looked like a runway model, but shorter. The man exuded the same cachet as Fort: wealth, looks, and unerring confidence.

“This is Juliet Pope,” Fort said, turning to introduce me. “Juliet, this is my friend, Devin Kincaid.”

I eyed the woman next, but she wasn’t introduced. She stared at the closest photo, looking bored. As for Devin Kincaid, he greeted me with icy civility. His eyes were like Fort’s, direct and assessing.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking my hand. “Interesting photos, not that I’m into art.”

I stiffened at his tone. Fort made a face. “That’s polite, Dev.”

“What? I’ve never been to an art premiere before,” he said, like the idea of it was ridiculous. “When I need to see art, I go to museums.”

I could have explained about art premieres, sales, the importance of community, but his friend seemed like an asshole, so I just said, “Museums are great. It was nice to meet you, Devin and…” My voice trailed off because I’d never learned the woman’s name.

Fort gestured toward his friends. “They’re going for drinks.”

“I thought you were going to join us,” said Devin, scowling at him.

“I’m going to stay a while. I haven’t seen everything yet.”

He touched my back again, the same light, familiar caress he’d used on the way over here. My hands started to shake.

“Enjoy the artwork,” Devin drawled. “We’ll see you later.”

Then he smiled at me, but it wasn’t a nice smile. I glanced at the woman as the two of them headed for the door. I knew Devin was going to fuck her after drinks, because everything in his body language said that. He’d probably do other things to her, dominant things, since she was obviously his sub. When Fort turned to face me, I shivered.

“Dev didn’t want to come here,” he said in apology. “I made him.”

“Why?”

He took a breath and let it out before he answered. “I wanted him to see you, to understand why I can’t just…” He looked around.

“Can’t just what?”

“Can’t just get over you.” His voice hitched and he lost a little of his confident swagger. “You’re wearing over-the-knee socks again.”

“I wear them a lot.”

“They’re black, damn it. And your hair’s up…again.”

I stared at him, going cold. No, not cold. Frightened. Excited. Hot like a coal about to spark.

He took my hand. “Can we go somewhere to talk? Just for a minute? Somewhere private?”

“Why would we do that?” I asked as he led me toward a corner. “You can’t come up to me after months of silence and say stuff like…like, ‘I can’t get over you.’”

“Here’s the thing.” His hand tightened around mine. “I need to touch your legs, and I need to put my fingers on your neck, and if you don’t come with me somewhere private, Jewels, I’m going to do it here.”

I gaped at him, feeling those things as he said them, his hand on my leg, his palm against my pulse. “You said we wouldn’t work. You were insistent on that point. So what do you want from me?”

“I told you.” Even as he said it, he guided me toward the back of the gallery, to the corridor that led to offices and bathrooms.

“The party,” I protested. “I have to stay.”

“The party’s over. The artist left.”

He took me through a wide door at the end of th

e corridor, into the gallery’s workshop, the room where they prepped paintings for hanging and constructed made-to-measure frames. It smelled of lumber and chemicals, and the paint-sullied walls had piles of old frames stacked against them. There was no one here, and the only light came from a weak plug-in lamp in the corner.

He backed me against the wall between two stacks of frames, hemming me in, forcing his leg between mine. He pulled one of my thighs toward him, finding the top of my sock and squeezing the skin there. I felt his hand on my neck, on my face, and then the kiss. Hot, hard, demanding. As I’d done before, I shoved him away.

“No. Fucking no.”

We stared at each other, squared off like combatants, our hands in fists at our sides. The way he looked at me made my insides melt. His lips were set. He didn’t give me space, and I didn’t really want space. I just wanted a minute to process some anger before I fell.

The right decision would have been to leave then and there, to walk back out to the gallery and mingle with the remaining guests, but I wasn’t going to do that. The wrong decision was to stay where I was, daring him to take me if he wanted me so badly. That was the decision I made, flattening myself back against the wall, squeezing my legs together because he’d already made me so wet. The gallery was out there, Goodluck’s agents and caterers, his super fans, but I didn’t care.

Fort came at me a second time, and this time I didn’t push him away. I let him trap my hands and shove them over my head so I had to arch my back. His cock swelled against my belly as I hung there, acquiescing to his force. I never decided to give in and let him kiss me. He just took what he wanted, turned my face with his other hand and held it hard, and thrust his tongue between my lips.

Chapter Nine: Fort

Now that I had her against me, in my power, I couldn’t touch her enough. But I had to be careful. That was what I told myself: as long as I was careful, I could have her body and not do her any harm. I’d be a kind sadist. I’d be clear about our boundaries so she didn’t feel used or manipulated.