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Fact of the matter is, many women enjoy submitting in relationships, and many others enjoy dominating. I’d say that Alessa and I are definitely on the road to enjoying those types of pleasures as well. How she desires to conduct herself at work is something we can go over together later. For now, I want her to understand how things workpersonally.

There are items in my possession that will do that. But I’m not interested in many third-party tools and toys. Not when most foreplay is psychological.

I’m waiting for her in my living room when she arrives. Her sparkly blue tube dress is both trashy and chic—trashy because of the poor, cheap quality, and chic because of how good it lookson her curvy frame. The rest of her has looked better, however. Her hair is tangled from the wind, light rain splatter, and the sweat lining her forehead. The makeup isn’t as fresh as it was this afternoon. Her shoes are in her hand the moment she walks into my penthouse, and the sigh of relief she exhales screams that she’s happy to be barefoot again.

I let her have this small reprieve. We need to talk.

“Jules!” Has she only now noticed me? Not like I’m sitting in the dark or trying to hide in the shadows. Honestly, I’m rather put out that she’s so entrenched in her reality that she doesn’t see me right away. “I can explain what happened tonight.”

“No need. Stu filled me in after he got involved. Someone put their hands on you?”

She drops her clutch in one of my chairs and leans against my furniture. “Don’t know if I would put it that way. I was dancing with Cher and these guys decided they wanted to dance with us. Stu was the one who made shit awkward and antagonized the other guys.”

What my fair and young Alessa doesn’t realize is that those men would’ve been antagonized by anything. Better for my bodyguard to be the one to do it than any of the women there. At least Stu can physically defend himself with no issues.

“You were dancing with others.”

“I know what that sounds like, but I swear…”

“No need to swear anything, Lessa. I was under the impression that you were going out with your girlfriends to blow off some steam with platonic company. That was fine. What I’m not fine with is you fraternizing with strange people we don’t know we can trust.”

“But…”

“Alessa.” I stand up with the same authority I command in the boardroom. It has the desired effect: she takes a step back, eyes wide. “Don’t be naïve. I didn’t have to be there to know that atleast one of those men had decided on sleeping with you tonight. Even if you had no intention of doing so, the fact of the matter is you would’ve been in a dangerous position.”

She throws her hands up. “So what am I supposed to do? I told those guys I had a girlfriend. What do you want from me?”

Her anger is beauty personified. Passionate. Determined. Ready to go toe-to-toe with me, and I damn well deserve it. That doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight, however. If Alessa wants to continue growing like this, then she needs someone who will always challenge her to rethink her position and make compelling arguments.

That person is me, by the way. I will challenge her every step of the way. It’s what she obviously wanted when she started working as an intern in my office.

“Come with me.” I motion her toward my bedroom. “There’s something I want to show you. That’s what I want from you.”

“Oh my God, Jules.” She rolls her eyes before falling in step behind me. “What is it this time? More whips and chains?”

No. Not that. Something like that, though.

I turn on the light in my bedroom. She stops in the doorway, flummoxed. Gasping. Too far gone into disbelief to be of any use in conversation right now.

“You have got to be kidding me!” she finally says.

Oh, dear Alessa, no woman is ever kidding when she presents you with a comfortable collar and a pretty leash to go with it. That’s simply not how we function.

No, when we present our dearest women with these implements, we mean a different kind of business entirely.

“The night’s still young, Lessa. Why don’t we explore what it truly means for you to belong to me?”

Honestly, I’m shocked that she doesn’t slap me, but that’s a good sign. It means we’re on the same page, whether she wants to admit it or not.

Chapter 29

Alessa

It’s a miracle that I don’t slap her when she implies she wants to collar me like a dog!

Because that’s what Julianna Marcon must think I am: herbitch.

I may have been a virgin when we first hooked up, but I wasn’t immune to what this means. She thinks she’s some big sister figure right now—some pervy, incestual big sister figure, I’m sure!—who is going to teach me what people are thinking when they grind on me at a club. Like I don’t know! Seriously, she thinks I didn’t know?