Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 3: His Submissive (Inside Out #1.3)(9)

More confirmation that this is simply a short-term agreement to him. Fine, then, I was going to make sure it was very short-term. “Three months, not six.”

“Six months.”

“Three.”

“Four, but if we decide to renew our agreement after that, I want the contract modified to include things I might want added or taken out.”

“And things I might want added or taken out,” I countered.

His lips curved ever so slightly. “Of course.”

“I don’t know what a cane or caning is, so take it out.”

“Try it first.”

“No. No more trying. I need to do this now or not do it at all. That’s what I need you to understand. We have to come up with an agreement I can sign tonight, or there is no agreement.”

“Signing before you’re ready—”

“I am ready.”

He stared at me far too long for my comfort before he said, “I want you, Rebecca, but once I have you, I plan to push you. I can’t do that if I’m afraid you’ll crumble.”

“You think I can’t handle this. You think I can’t handle you.”

“I’m not sure you think you can handle this.”

I pushed to my feet and he stood up as well. “I’m out,” I stated. “You’re right. I can’t do this—but not for the reasons you imply. I like to control my life, and I don’t do well when I can’t.” I laughed without humor. “That sounds ridiculous, when I’m negotiating a contract to be a submissive.”

“It’s not ridiculous. A choice to hand over control under agreed-upon terms is not only control itself, but the freedom to let go and escape reality when you otherwise wouldn’t.”

“Then you have to see that lessons and uncertainty are the opposite to me. It’s affecting my job and my sleep. It’s making me crazy.”

He stepped around the chair and pulled me close. “If you want to sign, we will, but on one condition.”

“And that would be?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.

“One last lesson. The ultimate lesson. When it’s over, if you want to sign, we’ll sign.”

This was a test. “When?”

“Tonight. I’ll pick you up at nine.”





Lunchtime . . .

H

e tried to get me to talk about my nightmares but I quickly withdrew and asked to go home. Reluctantly, he agreed. Maybe that was my test for him. I need to know he won’t push me when I don’t want to be pushed, and he seemed to understand this was one of those times. I can’t talk to him about personal things and still make him about pleasure and escape. I’m not big on sharing my personal feelings anyway, and my mother, and the things I learned from her before her death, are as personal as it gets. I’m already struggling with my feelings for him, which give him even more power over me than any contract ever will.

He’d taken me home as I’d requested so I could try to sleep a few hours before work. I was remarkably exhausted and I’d fallen asleep almost immediately.

Even so, I was forced to stop by the coffee shop before work for a caffeine boost. Inside I found Ricco Alvarez waiting for a drink, looking aristocratic and debonair in a fitted suit. Oddly, he was in deep conversation with Mary, whom Ralph had said Ricco didn’t care for. What is it about the coffee bar that was inviting meetings these days?

I ordered my drink and joined them. “Ah, Bella,” Ricco purred. “Just the lady I wanted to see. Your customer dropped by my gallery and purchased several pieces. We need to do the paperwork for your commission.”

My eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.” I was elated. When I’d taken the woman to his private showing, she’d been embarrassingly hesitant to buy. “That’s such good news.”

“Congratulations to you both,” Mary said tightly. “I’ll let you two talk.” She glanced at Ricco. “I’ll bring the painting over tonight.” She slipped away toward the door.

I frowned, wondering what that was about as Ricco accepted his coffee from Ava, saying something to her in Spanish before turning back to me. “Shall we go share the good news with your boss?”

I smiled. “Yes. Let’s share it.”

An hour later, Ricco had gone and Mark appeared in my doorway, electrifying the air as he always did. “That painting you found in Seattle—the guy sold it to me for a steal. We’re going to make a fortune at auction.”

I was stunned. Even now, I can’t believe the sale came through. My commission is going to be . . . I can’t even write down what I estimate it will be. Instinctively, I knew Mark would use my excitement for control. He plays the control card with everyone in the gallery. “That’s fantastic news,” I said, managing to sound cool and calm. “I can’t wait to find out how well it sells.”

His lips twitched. “Seems like today is your lucky day, Ms. Mason. Feel free to continue that trend. It’s good for the gallery, and so, it seems, are you.” He left in a whiff of spicy male wonderfulness, leaving me basking in his rare compliment.

I smiled. He was right. I’d just closed two huge sales; today was my lucky day. I just hope the night is, as well.