Protege

  “Then tell him to get implanted. I don’t want any foreign objects embedded inside me.”

  “Ms. Banks, the procedure is minimal. Based on when your last cycle ended, the timing is optimal and you shouldn’t feel any resulting discomfort.”

  “I don’t see how that’s any better than using condoms.”

  “What happens when you’re in the shower and he wants to fuck you, Ms. Banks? Is he supposed to stop and find a condom?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes!”

  He sighed. “Try to understand, there will come a time when you might resent that diversion.”

  Possibly, but that time wasn’t now—or yet. “Implanting birth control seems a bit extreme to me.”

  “Imagine first thing in the morning when he’s entering you before you’ve even opened your eyes. It’s just more practical to always be prepared. That way there are no slipups.”

  “Yes, we wouldn’t want him to be liable for anything after his thirty days,” she grumbled—any sense of possible romance fading.

  “That’s just the sort of attitude that will get you a sore ass. Jude has agreed to put your well-being first, and that is exactly what he’s doing. He’s decided this is the best course for you two, and I suggest you trust his judgment.”

  A sense of undesirable inferiority choked her. “I don’t like being told what to put in my body.”

  Ezra sighed. Slowly he said, “There are other options Mr. Duval might agree to. The shot is a possibility, but I assure you, speaking from my personal experience and the deep need to put my wife’s safety first in all matters, I’m of the belief that the implant is the safest form of birth control on the market. There are versions that release copper into the female so the hormones aren’t a concern.”

  The fact that he could speak on his personal experience helped. “I just don’t know. I haven’t read any information of this.”

  His expression spoke of patient understanding. “Speak to the doctor when you see her. She’ll explain the procedure better than I can. After that, you can make an educated decision. So long as we’re still negotiating the contract, you have a right to make changes, but this is what he wants and I have to say I agree with him.”

  Obey. She silently growled, still disliking everything that word represented. It was outside her ability to blindly agree to orders. She was too stubborn. “I’ll talk to the doctor, but you better warn Mr. Duval it would be wise to research other options.”

  “I’ll save that warning for you, peach.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  ***

  The next day she cursed every domineering male she knew as she lay on her bed, huddled in the fetal position. Her stomach was still cramping from the procedure, but it was nothing worse than average menstrual cramps.

  After discussing her options with the doctor, she agreed with Jude and thought the IUD was the wisest choice. But she’d never tell him that.

  There was a knock at the door, and she frowned. Lifting her body off the bed, she shuffled across the small room in her slippers, startled to find Jude on the other side. He stood in the hall holding a bouquet of lilies. “I heard you were a good girl today.”

  Her stomach pinched pleasantly at the surprise, his words, and the flowers, helping her forgiveness along. He was the reason her stomach hurt. Then she frowned, finding his presence in the old Victorian boardinghouse disorienting. “You know where I live.”

  He glanced at the ceiling and walls. “I know where you rent. I’d hate to consider this place your home.” He handed her the bouquet and shut the door.

  “Thank you.” Placing the flowers on the dresser, she crawled back onto the bed.

  “Are you sore?”

  “Yes. I don’t like you very much right now.”

  His mouth pulled to one side as he carefully sat beside her. “Ezra said he received your signed portion of the contract.”

  “Yes. I dropped it off after the doctor’s appointment.”

  His hand brushed over her hip as he studied her, expression easy. “And I’m told I can’t make you cook bacon naked.”

  She grumbled. “I don’t know why you’d want to.”

  His hand glided to the curve of her rear. “I’m a strange man, Collette. There’s an endless list of the things I want that might surprise you, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

  His touch was gingerly as he appraised her. “How bad are you hurting?”

  She sighed, knowing she was being dramatic. Her ego was more bruised than anything else. “At first I had some light cramping, but I haven’t had any discomfort in about an hour.”

  “Would you like an Advil? I brought some for you.”

  He brought her Advil? Her discomfort was mostly his fault, but the fact that he’d made a special trip over here to bring her flowers and Advil, well, that just made her feel all gushy and nice inside.

  She sighed. “Thank you, but I think I’ll live. I’m more pissed off that this took me off guard. I wasn’t really prepared.”

  His lips brushed her cheek as he leaned over her carefully and whispered. “And so it begins, Collette. This is all part of trusting a Dom to care for you. I understand the implantation wasn’t pleasant, but, sweetheart, now we’re safe. I’d never want to risk your safety and I promise you that was my only motive here. Believe it or not, it pains me to see you like this.”

  She glanced at him. His gentle confession surprised her, touching a sensitive part of her heart. “Really?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I’m not a brute. I derive pleasure from taking care of a submissive. Sometimes care isn’t delivered easily. You made a wise decision today and I’m proud of you, proud of the way you kept an open mind, proud of the fact that you trusted me, and proud that you did as I asked even when it challenged you. You’ve pleased me very much.”

  Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words reached her and warmed her, she nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  He smirked and ran a finger down her cheek, pinching her chin lightly. “Cheeky peach. Thank you.” He sat up. “Are you ready to go?”

  “What? I thought we’d start tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “The contract’s signed. You’re mine for the next thirty days. Is your bag packed?”

  “But . . .”

  He arched a brow.

  “It’s over there,” she grumbled, still not understanding the purpose of leaving the room rented for the entire month she was gone, but she supposed that was a precaution he wanted to take.

  “Good.” He lifted the bag. “Shall we?”

  “I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not even showered.”

  “You can shower at the château.” Glancing around the room, he said, “I think you’ll find it more comfortable than your current setting.” He held out his hand and she frowned. Everything was happening so fast.

  Her fingers slowly slid into his palm and his grip closed over hers. This was it.

  His grasp tightened, reassurance given with a slight squeeze as he helped her to her feet. He smiled. “Good girl.”

  Chapter Three

  Jude’s stomach knotted as he steered the Mercedes onto the drive of the château. Memories of his last days at his country home surfaced, stinging like a scab ripped open just on the brink of healing. He blanked his expression and carefully rode over the stone bridge. Hopefully his new guest would replace some of those less savory memories.

  The garden beds had been recently cleaned and the hedges neatly shaped. If anything, Château Fernweh was lush in its endless landscapes and hidden gardens. Hopefully it would be an early spring and Collette would have a chance to see the grounds in their full, radiant beauty.

  Pulling around the center fountain, contained by low trimmed boxwoods, he put the car in park and gripped the wheel. He could just as easily have taken her to his
condo in the city, but this wasn’t about his personal comforts. It was about providing an experience that would help her better assess her deepest desires. He needed to keep reminding himself of that.

  To be a true dominant male is to always put her needs before your own.

  This was where she deserved to be. The other members would enlighten her as well, provide a picture of everything Fernweh could offer. While the château was the largest and oldest structure in the area, the centerfold that anchored the community they had built in the dated village, it had been a long time since it boasted the love that some of the smaller homes held.

  He glanced to his right, where Collette slept soundly. It was probably best that she’d passed out for the last two hours of the journey. They were very particular about disclosing the exact location of Fernweh, and this made the confidentiality easier. For all she knew, they could be in the belly of a foreign city the way she slept.

  He grinned and lifted a coiled curl from her cheek. He never saw so much unruly hair on a woman. There seemed no rhyme or reason to it. “We’re here, Collette.” When she didn’t move, he smirked. “Ms. Banks, it’s time to wake up.” He nudged her and she grumbled, shoving his touch away.

  Really?

  Very well. Climbing out of the car, he rounded the front and opened her door. On second thought, he went to the double entry of the château and tried the lock. Like magic, the old hardware twisted and gave way. He could smell the cleaning products Lea and the other girls must have used. He’d be sure to send a gift of appreciation for all their hard work.

  Turning back to the car, he appraised his snoring beauty. She was a little thing, no more than five foot two, but she had an ass on her, the kind a guy could hold on to. She was curvy but compact, a whole lot of woman hiding behind couture garments and southern propriety. His mind dwelled on images of her thick hips wrapped around his waste. Thinking back to his early twenties and how eager he’d been to show off his virility, he rolled his eyes. Thirty-four and he was solving physics equations to guesstimate if he could carry a woman to his bed.

  “Get a grip, Duval,” he mumbled, and moved to collect his sub.

  Being that he required her to exercise daily, he’d have a fair chance of redefining his lost physique. The château had a noteworthy gym from what he recalled.

  After he undid her seat belt, his arms slid beneath her body and he carefully pulled her from the car. She stirred but didn’t wake. Un-freaking-believable. He carried her over the threshold and was glad the curtains had been drawn back, letting some of the late-afternoon light inside. The sun would be setting soon and he’d need to go around hitting all the lights, one of the issues with such a vast, old house—there were never enough switches and they were all in weird places.

  He carried her to the den, mentally promising he’d be getting in shape soon. Though he wasn’t carrying around any extra weight, his muscle mass was a joke compared to what it used to be. If Ezra caught sight of his body he’d never hear the end of it. He’d start tonight.

  As he laid her on the sofa, he again brushed her curls from her face. “Collette.”

  She stretched, then stilled, opening her eyes with a disoriented sort of panic banked in the depths. “I fell asleep.”

  “I’d call it a coma, but yes. How do you feel?”

  “Better.” She shifted without issue. Eleanor, their resident doctor, had told him she’d be fine in a few hours, but he was glad to see her well for himself. “What is this place?”

  He turned, trying to see past his ugly memories and recognize the beauty that had once enchanted him to buy the old mansion. “This is Château Fernweh.”

  “This is Fernweh?” Her eyes widened as she glanced around. Tall marble pillars marked the entry, leading to a grand spiraling staircase. “Is anyone else here?”

  “No. This is my private home. The others live in the village. Fernweh—the village—is a gated community with a population just under one hundred, but we could fit much more than that. We covet our space at Fernweh.”

  “I never imagined anything this . . . picturesque. It’s stunning.”

  “It’s getting late, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for the full tour. I’ll show you around and introduce you to some of our neighbors. You already met Ezra.”

  “Ezra lives here?”

  “Yes, he and his wife, and several of our founding families. There are other Fernweh societies cropping up around the globe, one in Arizona, another in Canada, one in Scotland. This is the original and the oldest, though.”

  “You do business with Scotland?”

  He grinned. “We do business with everyone. Why do you think we ask so many questions about your preferred climate? Depending on your answers, Ms. Banks, you could wind up married to your soul mate all the way in Greece.”

  She snorted, as if finding such a possibility laughable. She’d see, once she met some of the others and realized how far they traveled for the life they desired and the perfect partner.

  “I highly doubt my life will land me anywhere exotic. I’m just a simple southern girl.”

  He grunted. “Let’s get you out of these clothes and into something more appropriate.”

  She looked around. “Where’s my bag?”

  “You don’t need it.” He helped her stand. “When I said get you into something more appropriate, I meant my bed. Welcome to Fernweh, Ms. Banks. Your preparation starts now.” He pulled her hand and she pulled back, not moving an inch. “Collette?”

  “I . . . need a minute.”

  “All right. Tell me what’s going through your mind.”

  Her breathing went from natural to labored in a split second. “I just can’t believe I’m doing this.” Her head shook and she exhaled harshly. “I don’t even know you.”

  Keeping his expression as nonthreatening as possible, he softly said, “You’ll get to know me.”

  Her hand pressed to her chest. “Sweet baby Jesus, my heart’s racing so fast it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.”

  He frowned and squatted low in front of her. When he took her other hand, he found it clammy and ice cold. “Do you have anxiety attacks?”

  “No, just anxiety.” She laughed, but he wasn’t amused.

  Unfolding her fist, he flattened her palm to his chest. “Breathe with me, Collette. In. Out. In. Good.”

  As her fretfulness seemed to settle, he sat beside her and explained, “I want to make something perfectly clear here, Collette. I’m not, nor have I ever been, the type of man to take something not offered. I don’t want you to be afraid to use your safe word. You use that word whenever you need a moment; it doesn’t automatically end things. It’s like pulling the brake. We stop, assess, regroup, and decide what, if anything, needs to change. Sometimes we just need a moment to catch our breath.”

  “I know that. This didn’t really feel like a penguin moment, though.”

  He tried not to laugh at her adorable choice of safe word. “Then explain to me why you hesitated.”

  “We’re going to have sex. We are, right?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s a really big deal to me usually. I mean, I’ve only been with a handful of men and each one put his time in.”

  He grinned. “I bet they did.” Tucking her hair behind her shoulders, he lifted her chin. “Tell me something, Collette, when this is all over and we’ve sized you up with a match, what would you do if he’s one of the men that want an arranged marriage?”

  Her brow pinched. “How frequently does that happen?”

  “More often than you’d imagine. It’s the primary reason our clientele initiates contact.”

  “They don’t meet at all?”

  “Some do. Some communicate in other ways before meeting face to face, but only see each other the day of the wedding. It depends on the couple.”

 
“And you’ve only had two divorces?”

  He chuckled. “That’s right.” He took her hands, making a point to acclimate her to his touch. “I intend for us to know each other intimately over the next few weeks. We have a lot of ground to cover. My point is, sometimes it’s better to jump in rather than tiptoe.”

  She sighed. “I suppose getting it over with is one way to go about it. It just seems so clinical.”

  That word caught his attention. “You have no idea how clinical it can get. Sometimes making intimacy as cut-and-dried as possible can be quite erotic. I could spend hours watching you fill a set of stirrups, memorizing your body before ever laying a hand on it.”

  “What?”

  He tsked. “Don’t judge something you’ve never tried, peach.”

  She frowned. “The lawyer called me that yesterday.”

  “Did he?” Ezra had said he wasn’t ruling out the chance that Collette might like women, but Jude sensed she wasn’t a fit for his friends. Different strokes for different folks.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he did mention finding you very sweet.” His territorial instincts quelled as he reminded himself this was temporary and Collette was nothing more than a protégé. Knowing their association had a shelf life suited him well. There was no expectation. One couldn’t lose something if they never truly had it to begin with.

  His hands slowly traveled over her thighs and arms, and soon she didn’t seem to flinch at his touch. The more familiar he became to her, the more she seemed to tolerate. Good.

  “I’m going to show you to your room. I’ll give you some time to shower and make yourself at home. Everything you need will be in the drawers and you can help yourself. When you’re finished, I want you to wait there for me. Do you understand?”

  She frowned. “Yeah.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Yes,” she corrected, and he waited. “I mean, yes, Jude.” Good enough for a start.

  He walked her up the steps to the mistress’s bedroom. Bracing himself for the deluge of memories, he shut his eyes as he turned the knob.