At His Insistence: The Billionaire's Beck and Call, Part 4 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) by Delilah Fawkes Page B
Authors: Delilah Fawkes
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well.
I raised
an eyebrow. He knew me too well. How
did he know I’d changed my mind about being his?
I peered
around me, scrutinizing everything on my desk for the first time. Then, I
spotted it—a Drake & Smith pen holder stood nestled between my stapler and
computer monitor. A black camera lense winked up at me from the middle of the
ampersand.
That sick
bastard has been spying on me! I wondered if there was a microphone in place as
well and shook my head. Suddenly, I grinned, and reached for my post-it-notes.
I scrawled a quick note, and held it up to the camera.
Your
wish is my command, SIR .
I blew a
kiss, then covered the camera with the yellow post-it. I giggled, imagining his
face contorting in annoyance as the visual cut out. I was definitely going to
be punished for that little stunt later. But for now, I had more important
things to do.
I turned
the envelope over, and a credit card slid out onto my desk. It was an American
Express Black Card, made of titanium, and it clunked as it hit the wood. I
gasped. I’d heard about these, but never seen one in real life. They were
invitation-only and as exclusive as it gets… and here I was holding one in my
hand.
I picked
my jaw up off the floor and headed for the elevator. It would be a shame to
keep Mr. Drake waiting.
***
When the
Rolls pulled up in front of the first store, I couldn’t believe my eyes. This
was a section of town I’d never shopped in, for obvious reasons. There was a
Tiffany’s next to a Gorgio Armani, and several boutiques with french names that
seemed more than a little intimidating. I stepped out of the car, and gave the
driver a nervous glance.
“You’ll be
fine, Miss Willcox,” he said, his smile making his eyes crinkle. “The boutique is
just up ahead. They’re waiting for you.”
I nodded
and mouthed a “thank you.” My mouth was too dry for words at that moment. What
was I doing? I didn’t belong in a place like this, wearing a dress that I’d
purchased on sale at the Gap. It was humiliating.
I gripped
my purse so tightly my knuckles were turning white, feeling queasy about the
credit card inside. How much did I dare put on there? It was all just too
weird. I felt uncomfortable just thinking about spending someone else’s money
on something so frivolous as clothing.
I forced
myself to walk, putting one foot in front of the other until I was at the door
of the boutique. But before I could touch the door, it swung open, and a
beautiful older woman handed me a glass of champagne.
“You must
be Miss Willcox,” she said, beaming at me. Her icy blonde hair was swept into a
classic up-do; her clothing impeccable and of the finest quality.
“My girls
and I are going to take excellent care of you today. If you’ll follow me, Mr.
Drake has laid some items out for you to choose from.”
I sipped
the champagne, letting the cool bubbles play on my tongue. Of course he has.
I smiled.
He’s taken care of everything. I should
have suspected as much.
***
Four hours
later, the Rolls Royce pulled up in front of the Drake mansion, coming to a
stop in front of the huge wooden doors. I fussed with the strap on my new
sky-high black heels, wrapped around my freshly pedicured feet. I felt
ridiculous in this dress, but it was my favorite out of all the choices laid
out by Mr. Control Freak himself. All of them were exquisitely made, not to
mention short and revealing, but something about this one had mesmerized me as
soon as I held it up to the light.
Metallic
silk draped low in the front, hugging my hips enough to flatter, and dropping
dangerously low in back, baring enough skin to make me blush. I’d never been
one for slinky dresses or showing off my body. Added together with the $500
heels and I felt completely out of sorts, like a pig in lipstick.
Hopefully
I didn’t look too ridiculous.
Mr.
Drake’s butler held the door for me as I entered, and I smiled shyly at him.
“You look
lovely, if
I raised
an eyebrow. He knew me too well. How
did he know I’d changed my mind about being his?
I peered
around me, scrutinizing everything on my desk for the first time. Then, I
spotted it—a Drake & Smith pen holder stood nestled between my stapler and
computer monitor. A black camera lense winked up at me from the middle of the
ampersand.
That sick
bastard has been spying on me! I wondered if there was a microphone in place as
well and shook my head. Suddenly, I grinned, and reached for my post-it-notes.
I scrawled a quick note, and held it up to the camera.
Your
wish is my command, SIR .
I blew a
kiss, then covered the camera with the yellow post-it. I giggled, imagining his
face contorting in annoyance as the visual cut out. I was definitely going to
be punished for that little stunt later. But for now, I had more important
things to do.
I turned
the envelope over, and a credit card slid out onto my desk. It was an American
Express Black Card, made of titanium, and it clunked as it hit the wood. I
gasped. I’d heard about these, but never seen one in real life. They were
invitation-only and as exclusive as it gets… and here I was holding one in my
hand.
I picked
my jaw up off the floor and headed for the elevator. It would be a shame to
keep Mr. Drake waiting.
***
When the
Rolls pulled up in front of the first store, I couldn’t believe my eyes. This
was a section of town I’d never shopped in, for obvious reasons. There was a
Tiffany’s next to a Gorgio Armani, and several boutiques with french names that
seemed more than a little intimidating. I stepped out of the car, and gave the
driver a nervous glance.
“You’ll be
fine, Miss Willcox,” he said, his smile making his eyes crinkle. “The boutique is
just up ahead. They’re waiting for you.”
I nodded
and mouthed a “thank you.” My mouth was too dry for words at that moment. What
was I doing? I didn’t belong in a place like this, wearing a dress that I’d
purchased on sale at the Gap. It was humiliating.
I gripped
my purse so tightly my knuckles were turning white, feeling queasy about the
credit card inside. How much did I dare put on there? It was all just too
weird. I felt uncomfortable just thinking about spending someone else’s money
on something so frivolous as clothing.
I forced
myself to walk, putting one foot in front of the other until I was at the door
of the boutique. But before I could touch the door, it swung open, and a
beautiful older woman handed me a glass of champagne.
“You must
be Miss Willcox,” she said, beaming at me. Her icy blonde hair was swept into a
classic up-do; her clothing impeccable and of the finest quality.
“My girls
and I are going to take excellent care of you today. If you’ll follow me, Mr.
Drake has laid some items out for you to choose from.”
I sipped
the champagne, letting the cool bubbles play on my tongue. Of course he has.
I smiled.
He’s taken care of everything. I should
have suspected as much.
***
Four hours
later, the Rolls Royce pulled up in front of the Drake mansion, coming to a
stop in front of the huge wooden doors. I fussed with the strap on my new
sky-high black heels, wrapped around my freshly pedicured feet. I felt
ridiculous in this dress, but it was my favorite out of all the choices laid
out by Mr. Control Freak himself. All of them were exquisitely made, not to
mention short and revealing, but something about this one had mesmerized me as
soon as I held it up to the light.
Metallic
silk draped low in the front, hugging my hips enough to flatter, and dropping
dangerously low in back, baring enough skin to make me blush. I’d never been
one for slinky dresses or showing off my body. Added together with the $500
heels and I felt completely out of sorts, like a pig in lipstick.
Hopefully
I didn’t look too ridiculous.
Mr.
Drake’s butler held the door for me as I entered, and I smiled shyly at him.
“You look
lovely, if
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