Her Debt Read online

  I need the kind of woman who says yes, Sir and moves on to her next fuck when I tell her that we’re over. No questions. No discussion.

  “You made me happy for a long time, but I crave something different now. Something that you aren’t able to give me.”

  Her eyes widen as though maybe I’ve said something that gives her hope. “Tell me what it is, and I swear that I will give it to you.”

  “A woman who’s never been with another Dom.” I give her a moment to absorb how clearly that excludes her. “A woman who will belong to only me. Someone I can break and train and mold from the start into exactly what I want her to be.”

  She lowers her head. “That’s certainly something that I’m not able to give to you.”

  “There are plenty of Doms out there looking for a sub as perfect as you. I’m happy to give you a stellar reference. And I know that Easton will too.”

  “You make it sound like a job interview.”

  Claudia went from the ownership of one Dom to another. Like a transfer. She doesn’t understand the process of seeking a new Dom. Being a sub is very much like a job. In New Orleans, the better your referrals and experience, the better the Dom you will land.

  “I heard that Jacob Westbrook was looking for a new sub. I can contact him on your behalf if you like.”

  Jacob is wealthy. He would maintain Claudia in the lifestyle that’s she has become accustomed to. And I’ve seen him in action at a play party once or twice. Looked like he knew what he was doing. I would feel comfortable with transferring Claudia into his care.

  “You just told me that we’re over a few minutes ago. I’m nowhere near ready to even think about another Dom.” She cups her hand over her forehead. “You’ve been the center of my universe for more than a year. I don’t even know how to do that—how to consider looking at another Dom, much less let one touch me.”

  “I understand that you’re going to need time but please know that I’m willing to help whenever you decide that you’re ready.”

  “Only a few hours ago, we were fine. Or at least I thought we were. What happened to bring this on so suddenly?”

  All right. She’s hurt. She’s disappointed. She’s shocked. I get it. But all of this talking and discussing isn’t going to change anything. And it’s beginning to annoy the fuck out of me.

  I wasn’t planning to tell her about Emma Lia, but I think I need to so that she’ll stop dragging this out.

  “I’ve found my new sub.”

  Claudia’s mouth gapes, and her face distorts as though she’s in pain. “You found her tonight?”

  “I found her months ago, but I’ve been waiting on some things to fall into place. The time is finally right.” So fucking right.

  Claudia takes a step back and blindly feels for the bed before sitting on the edge. “Did you cheat on me with this woman?”

  Cheat on her? Cheating implies that we were monogamous. We were not. Hell, Easton continued to fuck Claudia at least once a month after she became my sub. People in love don’t do that.

  “I haven’t been with her yet.”

  “Yet,” she whispers.

  The Claudia before me isn’t the poised submissive I’ve known for the last year. This one looks like she could have a meltdown at any moment.

  “You don’t have to worry. I’ll pay for you to stay in the hotel of your choice until you find a new Dom. I’ll take care of your living expenses.” I owe her that.

  “You’re making me leave?” Her voice has risen a few octaves.

  What the fuck? Did she think I was going to have my new sub and my former sub living in the same house?

  I shouldn’t have to explain what is obvious. “You can’t stay here. Emma Lia is going to be moving in with me.”

  “Oh my God. Seriously? Her name is Emma… Lia? What the fuck kind of name is that?”

  I’ve never heard Claudia be so hateful and rude.

  “It’s a beautiful name for a very beautiful woman. It fits her perfectly.”

  “Are you going to give her my bedroom?”

  Claudia is laying claim to something that doesn’t belong to her.

  “This room belongs to my submissive. Just like it has belonged to every other submissive who came before you and every submissive who will come after. Emma Lia is my new sub and she will use this bedroom as long as we are in a Dom-sub relationship.”

  Claudia laces her fingers and cups them over the top of her head. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “You’ll find a new Dom, and you’ll forget all about me.”

  “I don’t want a new Dom; I want you. I’ve always wanted only you. Even when I was submissive to Easton. Because I love you, Tristan. Do you really not see that?”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I didn’t want this to happen, and that’s why I was honest with Claudia from the start. I told her that this relationship would never go down a romantic path. I’m not that guy. I don’t fall in love.

  “I’m sorry, Claudia. I don’t want to hurt you, but this arrangement is over. Take off your collar.”

  “Please don’t do this. We’re perfect together, and I know that we could become so much more. I can make you happy. I know that I can.”

  Claudia’s desperation is pathetic, irritating… and useless. Any doubt that I might have had about ending things between us disappeared the instant that Emma Lia walked through the door of my hotel suite tonight.

  She instantly became mine.

  “I’m not going to change my mind, so stop. Groveling is unbecoming and beneath you. Now remove the collar.”

  Claudia blinks rapidly, and several tears drop down both of her cheeks as she reaches behind her neck. I love some fucking tears, but not when they’re attached to unwelcome emotions. And Claudia’s love is most unwelcome.

  Claudia hands over the diamond necklace and goes into the bathroom. She comes out with a tissue in her hand, dabbing at her eyes and cheeks. “This woman has ruined everything between us.”

  “That’s so not true. I’ve been feeling a pull to do something different for a while. I was just waiting for the right person to come along. And now she has.”

  Claudia flicks her wrist. “This has been my home for more than a year. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

  I don’t know what she expects from me. “I’m sorry, but you can’t stay.”

  “Living in a hotel will be hell. You know that it will be. At least let me stay until I find a new Dom.”

  Two submissives. One old. One new. Both under the same roof. It’s asking for big trouble. “It won’t work.”

  “You’re the Dom. Your new sub will have no choice but to make it work if you tell her that’s what she must do.”

  Claudia isn’t aware that my relationship with Emma Lia isn’t consensual. She isn’t going to come into this house playing the part of an obedient submissive and I’m afraid that Claudia’s presence will only complicate an already fragile situation.

  “You dropped this bomb on me without any kind of warning. Don’t you think that I’m at least owed a little time to get my bearings? Make a plan for myself and my future without being thrown out on the street?”

  She’s being a bit melodramatic. Being put up in the hotel of your choice isn’t the same as being thrown out on the street. But she’s right about one thing. She needs to make a plan for her future.

  “You can move into the guest room on the third floor until you make other arrangements.”

  She dashes toward me and throws herself into my arms. “Thank you, Tristan.”

  I hope like hell that I don’t regret this.

  “You have to stay away from Emma Lia. I don’t want her to know that you’re living in the house. It’ll only cause problems between us.”

  She nods. “I understand.”

  “And you must begin your search for a new Dom tomorrow.”

  I need her to get out as soon as possible.

  “Yes, Sir
.”

  Yes, Sir. I can’t wait to hear those two words come from Emma Lia.

  Soon.

  Very soon.

  4

  Emma Lia Grant

  Being a cheat isn’t the only thing that I’m good at. I also know how to pick a lock. And I popped this one with a pin from my hair only a few minutes after Tristan Broussard left.

  I quickly found out that he wasn’t lying. There’s something else keeping this door closed. Something that I can’t get to on the other side. And I’m running out of time. He’s going to move me from this place soon. And that can’t happen.

  I’ve ransacked the room looking for anything I can use to hurt him.

  An ink pen. Maybe I can stab him in the eye.

  The lamp. It’s solid. Maybe I can slam it over his head. Or use the cord to choke him.

  The mirror. I could break it. Slice him with one of the shards.

  I’m lying on the bed thinking of all of the ways that I could attack him when I hear a noise on the other side of the door. Sounds like the slide of some kind of surface bolt. That comes as no surprise.

  I sit up and watch him come into the room, and I’m reminded of how big he is. How muscular. How fit. And I reconsider all of the ways I could attack him.

  “Good morning, Miss Grant.”

  “Nothing good about it if you ask me.”

  “Did you not sleep well?”

  I’ve been kidnapped. This isn’t a fucking vacation. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t sleep at all.”

  His eyes roam downward and then up to my face again. “I see that you didn’t shower or change into the gown that I left for you… after I specifically told you to in the note placed on the bathroom counter.” He looks annoyed. Good. “I wanted to see you in it when I arrived this morning.”

  I’m sure that he did.

  I found the ivory silk gown and matching thong not long after he left. Along with the note.

  Emma Lia,

  From now on, you’ll only wear lingerie that I choose for you. Or nothing at all. But tonight, wear this.

  —Tristan

  “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”

  This man is a stranger to me. Why would I follow a demand like that from him?

  “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think that I’m going to do something just because you tell me to.”

  He stalks toward me, and I scramble off the side of the bed to get away. But he’s faster than I am. His hands catch me around the waist, pushing my back against the wall. Using one hand, he grasps my wrists and holds my arms above my head. “You are going to shower and put on the gown that I left for you. And you’re going to do it promptly because breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  I do something that I’ve never done to any human being in my life: I spit in his face. “I will not, and you can’t make me.”

  He releases my wrists and places his hands on my waist, using his grip to force me around so that I’m facing the wall. “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you who’s in control here.”

  I twist to get away from him, but he holds my body in place with his hips. Proof of the power behind those big muscles.

  I hear stitches popping as he roughly yanks downward on the zipper on the back of my dress.

  “Please don’t.”

  I grasp the front of my dress, holding it against my body, but the bastard continues yanking at it until he has completely ripped it open. Baring my back. Exposing my ass. In a thong.

  “Shower and put on the gown that I chose for you. I will not tell you again.”

  He’s won. Given me no choice. I’m forced to put on that damn gown if I want my body to be covered.

  He releases his hold and I waste no time squirming away and racing to the bathroom to get away from him.

  “Don’t linger or I will come in there to see what is taking you so long.”

  I don’t doubt him for a second.

  Tears burn my eyes as I slide what remains of my dress down my arms and drop it on the floor beside the wastebasket. Trash. That’s all it is now.

  Despite shampooing my hair and washing my body as fast as humanly possible, he still knocks on the door before I finish. “Breakfast will be here in five minutes. I don’t want to be left waiting.”

  “I can’t go any faster, asshole,” I whisper.

  “What was that, Miss Grant?”

  I quickly rinse the suds from my body. “I said that I’m almost finished.”

  “Very good.”

  I’m moving too fast to be completely dry when I slip the gown over my head. Water droplets from my soaked hair fall from the tips, leaving wet spots on the ivory silk. The breeze from the vent is cold, making my skin prickle. My nipples look like two points straining against the fabric. That’s just fucking great.

  I open the door and become motionless when I find the bedroom empty. And the door open.

  He left without locking me inside?

  “May I bring you anything else, sir?” A man’s voice. There’s someone else in the suite. This could be my chance to escape.

  I dash into the living room and stop dead in my tracks when I see one of the men who escorted me to the suite last night. All of my hope is immediately extinguished; I’ll get no help from him.

  “I believe that everything we’ll need is here, but I’ll call if we require anything else.”

  The man glances at me and quickly looks away when Tristan flicks his hand. Dismissing him.

  The door shuts, and Tristan’s eyes roam my body, making me feel like I need to shower all over again.

  “I’ll make an allowance this time because we’ve not yet discussed it, but while you are mine, you will never let another man see you like this unless it’s someone that I’ve invited to join us.”

  Everything about that statement makes me feel sick inside.

  “It isn’t my intention to be seen like this by any man, including you. I’m not yours, and you can forget about my being part of any act that involves a person you’ve invited to join us. Because that would be fucked up.”

  Tristan Broussard pulls the chair away from the table as though he’s some kind of gentleman, but we both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Sit… please.”

  Tristan Broussard saying please… it comes off incredibly insincere.

  “Stop standing there looking at me and sit so that we can have breakfast. I don’t have time for delays this morning; I have a meeting soon.”

  I could come up with endless ways to cause this jackass delays, but my stomach is pleading with me to save it for another time. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.

  He pushes my chair under me as I sit and then takes the seat across from me. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I had the kitchen staff prepare a little bit of everything.”

  I sit motionless and watch him pour a cup of coffee. “I only drink the best Kona.” He holds up the carafe once his cup is full. “Would you care for some?”

  I’m not really a coffee drinker, but there’s steam coming from the spout. It’s possible that I can toss the burning hot liquid on him and make a run for the door. “Yes please.”

  I turn over my coffee cup, and he fills it.

  “Creamer?”

  The creamer will cool the temperature of the coffee. “I take mine black.”

  “Me too.”

  He nods in the direction of the food. “Go ahead. Ladies first.”

  I fill my plate with pancakes, sausage, bacon, hash browns, eggs—twice the amount that I would normally eat. And I’m not the least bit ashamed.

  He sips his hot coffee and watches as I stuff a huge bite of pancakes drenched with maple syrup into my mouth. “I’m happy to see that you have an appetite.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand when I reply. “Yesterday’s lunch was a long time ago.”

  “I assumed that you’d had dinner when you declined my offer for food last night.”

 
“I don’t eat before I gamble.”

  He smiles. “You get nervous?”

  “Pfft.” I chuckle. “You think that I get nervous?”

  I actually am on edge the entire time. Especially when a pit boss lingers at my table for too long. But that’s not the reason that I don’t eat.

  “If not nerves, then what reason?”

  I place my hand on top of my stomach. “Can’t come into a casino in a tight dress with my belly bloated. That’s not an attractive look. And part of my MO is looking my best.”

  “You’re gorgeous. Sitting there with dripping wet hair and no makeup, you’re still the most beautiful woman whom I’ve ever seen.”

  I stop eating and look at him, saying nothing. Because I don’t know how to reply. I can’t decide if he’s serious or not. And if he isn’t, what is his motive for telling me something like that?

  “It isn’t often that I tell a woman that she’s beautiful.” His brows scrunch. “In fact, I can’t remember ever doing so.”

  I think that he’s full of shit. I can’t be the first woman that he’s ever said that to.

  “It’s your turn now to thank me for the lovely compliment.”

  He flatters me and then demands gratitude for doing so. What a jerk.

  “Thank you.” My voice is robotic.

  “Thank you… Sir.” His brow lifts when he says the last word.

  This asshole wants me to call him Sir?

  Not just no.

  Hell no. That’s not happening.

  I hear a buzz, and he reaches into his jacket’s inner pocket, taking out my phone. He frowns when he sees who’s calling. “It’s your brother.”

  He places my phone on the table and slides it to me. “Put him on speaker after you answer. Tell him that we spent the night together, you had a wonderful time, and you’ll be staying with me for a while. Make it sound convincing.”

  “Hello.”

  “Where the fuck are you?” I hear the panic in my brother’s voice.

  “Calm down, Adam. I’m fine. I’m with Tristan Broussard.”

  I’m fine. I’m with Tristan Broussard. Those two sentences don’t belong in the same conversation.