Uncollared by Nona Raines Page B

Master now. You’re mine.”
    She nodded, unable to break his stare.
    “Tell me,” he said.
    “I’m yours.”
    He kissed her again, this time hungrily. Then he broke away and frowned. “Finish dressing. I’ll take you to your car.”
    He was as good as his word. They dressed and took the elevator down to the street. “My car’s right there at the end of the block.”
    When they reached it, Chess opened the door for her. She slid onto the driver’s seat, and he reached across her to fasten her seat belt. When he’d adjusted it to his satisfaction, he spoke.
    “Call me when you get home from work tonight.”
     
    CHESS LINGERED AT the curb, watching Mia’s car disappear from view and hating himself. He was the world’s biggest bastard. If he was any kind of a man, he’d let Mia go before things went any further. But he wouldn’t do that, because he was a selfish prick. He wanted her, even though he knew their relationship couldn’t last. How could it? He had nothing to offer her.
    His business was on the verge of collapse, his properties under water, and the way things were going, he’d soon be homeless. Living in his car, if he was lucky enough to keep the car.
    But he’d hold on for as long as he could, because he needed more of Mia. Needed her to kneel for him, to gaze up at him with her beautiful brown eyes. Needed to touch her soft, sweet-smelling skin.
    And in the end he’d break her heart. Let her go without ever telling her the truth. He was a drowning man. He couldn’t drag Mia down with him.

Chapter Eleven
    She called him after work, as he’d commanded. She told him of the oppressive gloom that Serina’s murder had on everyone in the office. How they all carried on as they were supposed to, though numbed with grief. How everyone seemed to move in slow motion. How her coworkers suddenly stopped whispering when she walked into the break room, how their eyes filled with sympathy. No-nonsense Ronni, who knew Mia best, had even taken her aside for a talking-to. No one blamed Mia for what happened. But deep down, she still held herself partly responsible.
    Chess listened silently as she unburdened herself. When she ran out of steam, he said, “Mia, listen to me. Your friend’s right. Serina never told you she was afraid of her boyfriend. Never said he threatened her. You had no way of knowing what might happen. Ronni told you that, and now I’ve told you. So I want you to put it out of your mind now. And I want you here in thirty minutes. Understand?”
    Though her body responded with a crackle of desire, her brain protested. “I’m pretty tired. I thought I’d just—”
    “No. You’re not staying home to brood. You have thirty minutes. And don’t make me repeat myself.”
    A sigh left her. She was glad, just for tonight, to let him make the decision for her. “Yes, Sir.”
    “That’s not what I want to hear.”
    Her voice lowered, thrumming with the need that suddenly spiked through her. “Yes, Master.”
    “That’s better.” His own voice was the rumble of a lazy, contented lion.
    When Mia arrived at his place, she was greeted by Bailey and the delicious aromas of tomatoes and garlic. After giving the dog a hello noogie, she followed her nose into the kitchen. Chess was standing at the stove. He grinned at her and checked his watch. “Three minutes to spare. Very good.”
    She blushed. “Something smells good. What are you making, Sir?”
    He turned toward her in a chef’s apron spattered with tomato sauce. “Let’s not be formal now. And I’m fixing pasta à la Francesco.” He tossed a pinch of salt into the bubbling sauce with a flourish.
    “Are you cooking it or wearing it?” she joked.
    He gave her a mock frown. “Disrespectful wench. Give you an inch, and you take a mile.”
    Mia peeked around his shoulder at the pot. “Pasta Francesco, hmm? Is it a family recipe?”
    “No, just a fancy name for spaghetti and meatballs.”
    “Can I help? Meatballs are my