Page 12 of The Vigilante's Lover

This must be how celebrities do it.

Jax pulls the car up to some strange little back entrance to the hotel. It has a tiny covered canopy and a doorman who must get an eyeful of all sorts of rich and famous people.

The doors are whisked open and nobody blinks an eye at me in my suit jacket with the red ropes trailing from the back. In fact, I think I may have caught the doorman winking at Jax!

Unbelievable.

Jax told me as we arrived at the Ritz-Carlton that if I promised not to scream or yell, he wouldn’t gag me. Rich men bringing in beautiful women dressed as fetish girls in bondage was common and nobody would pay attention to my insisting I was kidnapped.

I am not sure I believe him, but being seen in this getup is humiliating enough.

So I agree to go without a gag. Besides, Jax put some Band-Aid-looking device on my throat that he claims will warn him if I am about to scream.

It will give him time to do something. What that might be, he doesn’t say.

So here I am, passing through some secret door and immediately getting turned down a silent hall and up a small elevator. Within seconds, a white door with a gold handle is opened wide, and I’m ushered into the poshest hotel room that quite possibly has ever existed.

I’m dumbstruck. There’s a fountain. A fountain in the middle of a hotel room.

White sofas face big French windows. The curtains are gold. There are fresh flowers in vases on every surface. An enormous marble fireplace contains a crackling log.

I step farther inside. Jax drops the red rope and it trails behind me out the bottom of the suit jacket. I walk across the soft carpet and spot doors to the bedroom. I halt instantly. I’m not going in there.

But then I see another door leading to a bathroom with a garden tub and two toilets. Really? Two? This, I head straight for.

It’s only when I actually arrive beside the porcelain seat that I realize my hands are behind me, tied, and I can’t do anything with my panties. Still, I have to pee so badly that I’m determined to make it work. I start wriggling back and forth, trying to get my underwear down.

Jax comes in the doorway and leans on the frame, an amused quirk of a smile on his face. “Need some help?”

I stomp to the door and shove it closed with my shoulder, but he catches the bottom with his foot. “We have visitors,” he says. “They may be of assistance.”

He points through a second door to the bedroom, where two ladies are sitting in a pair of fancy chairs. Beside them is a large trunk, open wide, an array of dresses and pants and sweaters on display.

“Who are they?” I whisper.

“They are here to attend to you,” he says. “They think I’m outfitting you for a bit of boss and secretary bondage role-play.”

I kick at him, but he deftly dodges my poorly aimed Croc.

“She’s a feisty one,” he tells the women.

They smile and nod. Both are dark skinned and beautiful with perfect hair, wearing classy tailored pantsuits with clever scarves.

One of them stands and approaches the door. “I’m Emma,” she says. “Would you like a bath?”

Actually, after the strip-down in the middle of a hayfield, that sounds like heaven. I whip my hips to one side to reveal the long tail of my red ropes. “I’m a little tied up for that,” I say.

Emma glances over at Jax. “Should we untie her for the bath?”

He turns to me. “I will do it.”

I take a step back. “Never mind,” I say. “I just need to pee.”

Emma enters the bathroom and closes the door on Jax. This, he allows.

She turns to me. “I’ll help.” Her expression never shifts. A total professional. I wonder what sort of craziness she sees on a daily basis.

Emma lifts the lid to one of the toilets, and I realize the other one doesn’t have a cover at all. It’s different, with a funny gold button on the side. I stare at it, craning my head to figure out what it does.

“It’s a bidet,” Emma says. “Have you not seen one before?”

I shake my head.

She smiles to herself. I hate that I feel like a country bumpkin in front of strangers. Jax is bad enough.

I’ve never peed in front of anyone, but apparently I’m going to today. I step over to the toilet, and Emma bends to peel down my underwear. “At least you aren’t tied up down there!” she says.

Small mercies, I guess. I sit down and realize the seat is actually warm. Crazy.

Emma turns and fusses with towels on a rack, so I have a small bit of privacy.

I wonder how to approach her, let her know I’ve been kidnapped.

My brave moment in the field has long passed now, and I want to go home.

Jax is so confusing, maddening. This little fiasco has gotten embarrassing. And now he’s brought in witnesses.

“Have you worked with Jax before?” I ask.

She gives a little shrug and sets to arranging bottles of shampoo on the edge of the tub. Oh, the luxury of a bath.

Maybe I can escape without telling her anything. “All this role-play is sort of silly. Do you think you could untie me for a bath?” I ask. “I would love one.”

“No, ma’am. Not without Jax’s say.”

Damn. I start to stand and realize I can’t even wipe. Good grief.

But with all the simple proficiency of a hospital nurse, Emma takes a handful of toilet paper, pats me dry, and flushes the toilet.

I close my eyes as she wriggles my panties back into place, trying to reconcile my current life with the one I was leading just a few hours ago. It doesn’t line up. All I can picture is my mother, her wild carefree expression. Be like her, I remind myself. Have courage.

When I open my eyes again, Emma is patiently waiting. “I think you will like our selections for you,” she says.

Clothes. Now that’s an improvement. I can feel the ropes chafing my skin along my ribs.

I follow her through the bedroom door. The other woman has spread several outfits on the bed. Jax is not in the room. We’re alone.

I decide to just go for it.

“I’ve been kidnapped,” I say quickly. “Please, call the police. My name is Mia Morrow.”

The women look at each other and back at me.

“We understand,” Emma says. “We will make sure the police are on their way.”

Then the two of them murmur together over which scarf to put with a navy blue pant set.

“Are you listening?” I say in a forced whisper. “Jax took me from my home! I live in Tennessee.”

They glance up, smile, and sort through a small box of underwear. Emma holds up a red thong and the other nods her approval.

Jax appears in the doorway, a drink in his hand. “Everything all right?” he asks.

“Just fine, Mr. De Luca,” Emma says. “Your lady was just telling us to call the police.”

I want to stomp my foot. Oh, those hussies!

He steps in the room. “Did she now?” He saunters up to me. “I might have to punish you for that. Shall I spank you?”

The women pinch their lips together to hide their smiles.

Oh, God.

Jax toys with the button of the jacket as if he might unfasten it. “I’ve missed seeing these,” he says, as if we were longtime lovers. “Shall I send the ladies away?”

“No!” I say quickly. “We were looking for outfits.”

He takes a sip of the drink. I can smell the liquor, lush and expensive. My eyes fix on the amber liquid surrounding perfect cubes of ice.

Jax holds it out. “Would you like a sip?”

“I don’t drink,” I say.

He nods approvingly. “I like my secretaries sober,” he says. “Except, maybe, for now.” He presses the cold glass against my lips. “Just a little taste.”

He tilts the glass, and I gulp to avoid the drink spilling down my chin. It’s pure fire going down, just a trace of something bitter, then a hint of something sweet.

I swallow, feeling it burn all the way to my belly, a warmth that quickly spreads through my body.

“What was that?” I ask.

He holds up the glass to the light. “An Old Fashioned,” he says. “Like me.”

“Hardly,” I say. I shift my arm to wipe my lips, forgetting my hands are tied.

Jax notices and lifts his thumb to my mouth. “You missed some,” he says huskily. He brushes a finger across my lips, then brings it to his tongue. “You taste delicious.”

My heart beats ninety to nothing. I’m torn between the old Mia, full of panic and fear, and my mother’s Mia, courageous and strong. Will this man hurt me? Or will he take me to some new amazing place?

I already regret trying to have the women call the police. I want him. It’s hard to accept. But I do.

“I’d like to see her in one of your outfits,” he says to Emma. “You may untie her.”

Before I can say anything, Emma unbuttons Jax’s jacket and pulls it away. My breath catches as Jax’s eyes linger on my body once more, the red ropes, my breasts. My breathing speeds up.

The two women begin working the ties. I sigh in relief as Emma releases my wrists.

Jax sips his drink, watching with an intensity I’ve never known. I don’t know what to do. I feel crazy with need. The ropes drop to the floor.

“You have some other panties for her?” he asks.

“Of course,” Emma says. “Shall we take these away?”

I suck in a breath. No one has ever seen me naked. But my nipples tighten, and a hot buzz zips through me like an electric shock.

The feeling is overwhelming. Jax’s fingers twitch by his thigh as if they want to reach out for me, remove my last scrap of clothing himself.

I feel lost. I don’t know what I want more. For him to leave, or for him to keep appraising me the way he is now, like a wolf about to devour its prey. My skin hums with awareness.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he says to the women, who nod in agreement.

Emma slips my plain panties down my thighs. Jax sniffs, as if covering some other sound. He’s hiding his desire. I can feel it. I feel a surge of power again. This man wants me.

Nobody has ever wanted me.

The feeling is intense, more intoxicating than his drink. More addictive than his letters.

I think back for a moment to those words on those sheaves of paper. They started this whole thing. Why had I written him back? Somewhere in my mind, had I wanted this exact thing? A dangerous prisoner to escape, to take me, to sweep me away?

I was getting exactly what I asked for.

“Bring her out when she’s dressed,” he says, as if he can take no more. He turns back to the main room.

I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. “Hey,” I say. “Can I have that bath?”

He looks back, assessing me, and my body bursts with need. God, it’s like a drug. I want him to keep staring, to keep wanting. I’ve never felt so powerful.

His crisp white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and I can see his Adam’s apple working in his throat. “Yes,” he says and turns to Emma. “Give us a moment.”

The women hurry away to prepare the bath. When they are out of sight, he walks up very close to me. The thrumming in my body reaches a fever pitch. I don’t have on a stitch of clothing. The room is softly lit with lamps on either side of the bed. A more seductive scene never existed.

He’s only inches away. His finger touches me just beneath my chin. “You’re better than I thought,” he says.

I have to swallow hard to get any words out. “What do you mean?”

His hand moves to the small of my back and presses flat against my skin. He pulls me against his hips, and I understand what he’s talking about when I feel the hard bulge press against my belly.

“Some things you inspire without even trying,” he says.

I can barely breathe. We’re connected, the soft fabric of his pants luxurious against my stomach. His hand is warm and firm on my naked back.

“Damn, you are beautiful,” he says. His lips are inches from mine. I can almost taste him, the Old Fashioned probably still lingering on his tongue.

I’m on fire. Neither of us moves. I’m caught between fear and fierce desire. His letters flash through me, all those words, the heat I felt all these months, reading about his intoxicating need. And now it is right here, hot and hard against my actual body.

His jaw is scruffy with stubble. I resist the urge to reach up and touch it. I want something to happen, but I don’t know what. A kiss, maybe. Just that. I have another chance, right here. He’s close enough.

Am I brave enough to do it? I stare at his mouth. My breathing has gotten shallow.

Jax shifts, just slightly, the smallest increment closer to me. The bulge between us fits against me a little tighter. I suck in a breath.

The finger beneath my chin moves down, caressing my throat. This is it, I think. He’s going to do it. He’ll kiss me. Something will happen. Will I take it all the way? How far can I go? The pulsing need in my body tells me I won’t stop him from anything he wants to do to me.

But he rests his finger on the small device he has applied to my neck. “Enjoy your bath,” he says. “But know this has a sedative. Don’t run or do anything sudden, or you will set it off. You’ll be out cold in seconds.”

I pull back from him, breaking our connection. My hand goes to my throat, feeling for the adhesive.

Jax steps away. “I wouldn’t touch it. It activates if you try to pull it off, like one of those security devices in clothing stores.”

I jerk my fingers from my neck. I’m ready to spit fire. He’s toying with me. Acting like he’s caught by me, just so he can push me away again.

I hate him. Fury blasts through me.

“Get out of here,” I say. “I need some time without you staring at me like a lecherous beast.”

He bows from the waist. “As you wish, fair Mia.” His eyes graze my body one more time, then he disappears into the other room.

My body goes cold instantly. I spot a robe hanging on a hook and snatch it up, holding it in front of me. I’m shaky and mad and disappointed and disgusted with myself. Lolling around a hotel room naked like a common trollop, hoping some jerk pays attention to me.

I want to weep into the soft terrycloth, but I won’t. I’m not that Mia anymore. I’m going to get through this. I am strong.

Emma steps out of the bathroom. “You ready?”

I walk toward the garden tub, roiling with a million conflicting emotions. I’m not afraid of Jax. And I’ve given up on being shy. But I don’t know what I want. I try to imagine myself back in my aunt’s house, puttering around in solitude, and I can’t see it.

But this Jax. He’s so hard to understand. And I don’t know what he wants from me.

Or what I want from him.