The Agreement (Unrestrained 1)

He wanted anonymity as well. As Lara said, he was a professional. Top in his field, he didn't want it getting around that he was kinky.

Drake Morgan – devastatingly gorgeous Drake Morgan – was kinky. Not only was he about the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on, he was wealthy, powerful. And kinky. I felt an uncomfortably warm and swollen sensation between my legs at that thought.

I sighed heavily and glanced around my apartment. It was tiny but I was lucky to get a sublet in a rent controlled building. I insisted on using my scholarship money and work as a teaching assistant to pay for everything, not wanting any of my father's money, although he insisted in setting aside my allowance in a trust fund for when I 'came to my senses'. It meant I lived like a pauper, but it also meant I was independent. I wanted to show my father that I was as good as Heath.

My father always favored my older brother over me. Heath had always been the responsible one – the one who always said and did the right thing. Heath would never do something stupid like this… He married the right woman, had beautiful children and a respectable six-figure job in corporate finance.

Just when my father was starting to believe I had more to me, I had the breakdown, then fly-boy, and now this?

Crap. Just. Crap.

Drake Morgan called or texted five more times during the afternoon and evening, but I ignored each one and refused to listen to his voice messages.

Lara must have given him my email.

I deleted the bookmark of the website where that Dom's letters to his sub were posted. I didn’t need any more reminders of this. Instead, I read over an article I was writing on social media, determined to put Dr. Drake Morgan out of my mind. I watched stupid videos on YouTube. When that became boring, I watched reruns of Big Bang Theory. Those were the kind of men I belonged with.

Not beautiful Dominant Drake Morgan, MD.

Then, I busied myself with cleaning. It was therapeutic. I cleaned out the pantry, throwing out anything past its due date, and then I rearranged my tiny cupboard so that the pots and pans were all in logical order and tidy the way I kept them when I worked in a kitchen during my undergrad years.

Finally, I washed the dishes in the sink, all the while listening to something calming – Faure. Sicilienne. I needed something soft and dreamy to make me forget what happened.

It was then someone knocked at my door. He wasn’t actually at my door, was he? I peered through the peephole.

Crap… Yes. Dr. Morgan himself, his blue eye close to the hole.

Of all the nerve.

I pulled back and grimaced, but of course, he couldn’t see me. Some idiot must have propped the front door open again.

"I don't want to talk to you, Dr. Morgan," I said, my hands still in yellow rubber gloves, soap suds dripping onto the parquet floor. I tried to sop up the puddle up with my foot, but all I ended up with was a wet foot, my pantyhose not thick enough to do anything.

"Kate, please, considering everything, call me Drake. And trust me. I have no interest in revealing anything about this to anyone. You, Lara and I are the only people who will ever know anything about this."

"Good," I said, relief flooding through me that he understood. "Thank you. Let's just forget this ever happened. All of it."

"No, no…" he said, and I heard a hint of protest in his voice. "No need for that. We can still do the interviews. You want to research the lifestyle and I'm happy to help in any way I can."

"No way," I said, shaking my head vigorously even though he couldn’t see me. "I can't. Just forget about it."

"Seriously, Kate," he said, his voice light. I peered out through the peephole and watched him. "There's no need to call this off. I'm quite happy to teach you anything you want to know about," he said and leaned closer to the door as if trying to be private. "About submission. I'll even take you to a fetish night. Lara said you wanted to go. You could wear a mask, and no one would know who you are. I teach at Columbia in the department of medicine. I love teaching…"

"No," I said, slicing my hand sideways to cut him off, my hands looking ridiculous in rubber gloves. "It's completely out of the question. It's totally embarrassing."

"Kate…" he said, his voice trailing off. "I understand your interest in this completely. I have a lot of experience. You don't have to be embarrassed with me."

"You're kidding, right?" I said, shaking my head, leaning my shoulder against the door. "You don't think this is mortifying?"

"For me, yes. For you, no. I'm the one who should be mortified, not you. Here I was, hoping to impress you enough that you'd go out with me for a drink some night and you discover I'm a Dom. You're just doing this for a research paper, after all…"

Was that a hint of humor in his voice? He didn’t believe this was just research. Lara must have said something.

"I'm changing topics," I said weakly, coming up with the excuse on the spot.

There was a pause.

"What are you going to write about instead?" he said, his voice slightly disbelieving.