BeyondAddiction (6 page)

He just hoped he could connect with hers.

The day was typical Texas spring—warm and sunny and breezy.
The deck at Creekside Café was filled with people taking advantage of the balmy
weather and enjoying late lunches. Conversations mixed and mingled on the air
as the servers moved among the tables carrying trays filled with delectable
entrees and mouthwatering desserts. The fringe of the colorful table umbrellas
fluttered in the wind, and the two women sitting beneath one at a corner table
looked much like everyone else. Except for two things…

One of them looked as tense as a high wire and the other was
frowning at her.

Fallon tried to relax as she took a sip of her iced tea and
glanced around. Automatically she checked the faces of everyone seated at the
outdoor tables, making sure she didn’t see
him
anywhere. Not that he’d
come here anyway, but she was always on guard, always alert. Just in case.

“Isn’t it about time you closed the door on that asshole?”
Claire Panetta, Fallon’s closest friend, stirred sweetener into her iced tea
and gave Fallon a knowing look.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Fallon, honey, I see how tense you are, even in familiar
places, until you’ve checked everyone out to make sure he isn’t here. Are you
going to let him ruin the rest of your life?”

Fallon set her glass down precisely on the table, her gaze
fixed on her hands. Anywhere but at Claire. “I’m not letting him ruin
anything,” she insisted.

“Yeah, right,” Claire snorted. “Try telling that to someone
who believes you.”

“I mean it. I’m done with him. It’s over.”

“It’s over because I dragged you out of the overly expensive
prison he kept you in and threatened him with the police if he didn’t stay away
from you.” She glared at Fallon. “Not that he didn’t try his damnedest to take
you back.”

Fallon’s laugh had very little humor in it. “Brian
Willoughby isn’t used to anyone telling him no. Ever.”

“No shit. He’s like that with everything in his life, if the
gossip is right.”

Something Fallon had learned after the fact. The man had
been so charming when she’d met him. Rich, Polished. Urbane.
Did anyone even
use that word anymore?
He’d zeroed in on her at a cocktail party, played
the sexy daredevil, and before she’d realized it, she was in a prison of her
own making. Only after the fact had she learned there was only one way to do
things in Brian’s world—
his
way. That applied to every facet of his
life. He was completely rigid about having total control.

“You know,
Business Life
magazine wanted to do a
feature article on him,” Claire went on.

“I can’t believe he’d open himself up to that.” Fallon
fiddled with her utensils. “That’s not his style.”

“You’re right. He didn’t. Not only didn’t he return any of
their calls, a friend of a friend told me that any of his employees they
approached ran for their lives. Talk about ruling through fear and
intimidation. I also heard that at one company he bought, he fired hundreds of
longtime employees.” She paused, locking her gaze with Fallon’s. “Business
gossip says most of them were financially destroyed and one even committed
suicide. Do you see now why I don’t want you anywhere near him?”

The sick feeling Fallon had managed to keep fairly well
buried began winding through her system. “You know that old saying, my way or
the highway? Well, that might as well be his motto. Except sometimes you don’t
even get to choose the highway.”

Claire leaned forward and touched Fallon’s arm. “I don’t
pretend to know everything about this lifestyle you find so fascinating.
“Remember those first few weeks when you told me about your…desire for
submission? I didn’t know anything about the D/s lifestyle. I bought some books
so I could study. And when I had you back in my house, recovering from that
maniac, I insisted you read them too, even though you’d been in the life for a
long time. Do you remember that?”

Fallon nodded.

“You tried to explain why he fascinated you so much. We
tried to analyze the situation with Brian. You had to admit he’s not just a
Dom. He’s
domineering
, and that’s a whole ’nother thing.”

“Claire—”

“No. Let me just have my say and then I’ll shut up. Brian
Willoughby is dictatorial, obsessively possessive, heavy-handed, overbearing.
And a lot more adjectives I can’t think of right now. Every book we read
explained the dynamics of a power exchange between a Dom and a sub. Brian takes
all the power away. Sweetie, you said he never even asked for a safe word.” She
touched Fallon’s arm. “You’re lucky you were still alive when I got you out of
there.”

Fallon took a deep swallow of her tea, hoping the icy liquid
would settle her stomach. She had definitely been afflicted with that sick
fascination. That addiction. Even now, despite everything that had happened,
there was a hidden part of her that still craved him. And how sick was that?

“It’s not as if he burned me or cut me or anything,” she
said in a weak voice.

Not that she hadn’t feared he would do either one of those
when he lost his temper. And convince her it would be her fault if he did.

A shiver raced over her as Fallon remembered an incident she
tried to keep buried. It happened not too long after he moved her into his
house and began to shut her off from everyone else. She’d wanted to call
Claire, and argued with him when he wouldn’t give her back her cell phone or
let her use a phone in the house.

“You’re getting too hot under the collar about this,” he’d
snapped. “Perhaps you need to cool off.”

He’d made her sit in a tub filled with ice up to her neck
while monitoring her vital signs—so she didn’t die on him, she supposed. When
he finally took her out, he warmed her body, stroked and caressed her, gave her
a powerful orgasm. Then told her it was all her fault for misbehaving. Anyone
else would have thrown her out in the street. If she ever argued with him
again, he’d do that and more.

“What are you remembering?” Claire looked at her through
narrowed eyes. “Every bit of color just left your face.”

Fallon shook herself. “Nothing, I was just—” She took a sip
of tea. “Nothing.”

“Sweetie, I know it’s not
nothing
.” She shook her
head. “If those tests I insisted on hadn’t come back showing no drugs in your
system, I’d have sworn he kept you doped up.” Claire went on, “I’m still not
convinced he didn’t. The doctor said there are lots of drugs that dissipate
from the system quickly.”

“I’d hate to think he drugged me without my knowledge.” Bile
flooded the back of her throat. What Claire said made more sense than Fallon
wanted to admit. And it was obvious to her now that Brian perverted the
lifestyle for his own needs. His own power trip.
His own streak of
brutality.

Unfortunately, that knowledge hadn’t completely killed the
seed of addiction for his brand of domination. Brian had planted it deeply. She
kept the need pushed to the back of her mind, and every day with Cord blunted
it more and more. But—

“I’ve continued to do lots of research on BDSM, Fallon. The
general opinion is there are plenty of assholes like Brian who follow no rules,
who mind-fuck their subs and often use drugs in various doses to maintain
control. I swear that’s what happened to you.”

“I went with him willingly in the beginning,” Fallon
reminded her. Reminded herself how the edge of pain ramped up her pleasure.
Until—

“Hung up on outrageous sex, I believe you’d said.” Claire
interrupted her thoughts. “You were ripe for the picking, unhappy with previous
relationships, wanting excitement and a man who could set all your nerves on
fire. Well, according to what you told me, he did that and more, but you nearly
got yourself incinerated in the process.”

“But I’m not with him anymore,” Fallon reminded her.

“Right. You’re with a very sexy man who absolutely adores
you and treats you with a respectful possession that melts my panties. If
anyone could talk me into trying D/s, it would be Cord Jamieson.”

“Off limits.” Fallon managed a smile at the mention of
Cord’s name. “Already taken.”

“And don’t I know it.” Claire sat back in her chair. “Which
is exactly my point. One of these days you’re going to run into Brian again.
Sometime. Someplace. And I hope you remember just how valuable your
relationship with Cord is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fallon snapped. “I’m completely in
control now.” Then she shook her head. “Sorry. Can we please talk about
something else?”

“I just want you to know I care about you and worry about
you. And remind you what a disaster the situation with Brian was so you don’t
repeat it.”

“Consider me reminded. Now,” she picked up the menu, “shall
we order? What looks good today?”

Claire’s words stayed with Fallon all afternoon as she ran
errands and checked off items on her To Do list for the big event at the ranch.
One more week, and there was still a lot to do. But even while she mentally
sorted through details as she drove from place to place, Claire’s lunchtime
remarks hovered like a gray cloud. Mostly because she’d hit too close to the
truth.

Even after all this time, even with Cord in her life and
their relationship growing daily, the specter of Brian Willoughby didn’t seem
to go away.

Physically, he was the complete opposite of Cord, light
where Cord was dark, blond where Cord’s hair was nearly black. At first glance
he almost looked like sunshine. That was before you discovered if you stayed
out in the sun too long, you got badly burned.

If she closed her eyes, she could still visualize the first
time she saw him.

* * * * *

Two years earlier

The damn cocktail party was the last place Fallon wanted to
be. The day had been crappy and she wanted nothing more than a hot soak in a
tub and a chilled glass of wine. But a client had promised to introduce her to
an account she’d been clamoring for, so she’d put on her game face and shown
up.

She was chatting with her hostess when she felt eyes
watching her, like twin lasers piercing the crowd. When she turned her head,
she saw him staring at her from across the room.

He was standing against the wall of windows that looked out
over San Antonio, the city a backdrop behind him, the late afternoon sun
highlighting his ash-blond hair. He was tall, his broad, muscular frame
elegantly dressed in a dark-blue suit with a lighter shirt and discreetly
patterned tie. His face looked as if it has been carved from marble, the
aquiline nose in perfect proportion to the chiseled jaw and cheekbones.

He headed toward her like radar homing in on a signal. The
aura of power surrounding him was palpable.

“Lorelei.” He had no qualms about interrupting their
conversation. “It seems you actually have a guest I haven’t met. You should
correct that now.”

His deep voice carried the same sense of power. No, of
entitlement
,
as if whatever he wanted prevailed at all times and everyone should accept it.
Lorelei Hanson didn’t fluster very easily but this man actually had her
fluttering as if attacked by a bad case of nerves.

“Oh, Brian! I’m so sorry.” She looked from him to Fallon and
back again. “Brian Willoughby, meet Fallon Crowe. Fallon does a lot of
corporate public relations work.”

“Head of Willoughby International?” Of course he was. Who
hadn’t heard of him? He was legendary for his success, in every aspect of his life,
from business to personal. Although very little was known about the latter.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t ever heard his name linked with any one
specific female. Was it possible he was gay?

She looked into his eyes and her breath caught in her throat.
His eyes were dark blue, almost navy, and piercing in their intensity. Heat
seemed to spear from them straight through her entire body, skewering her in
place. When he took one of her hands in his, his touch triggered a flood of
erotic responses in her body.

No, he wasn’t gay. Not in the least. How could she even have
thought that? He was so totally alpha it wrapped itself around him like a
cloak. Maybe he just hadn’t found the right woman.

How presumptuous to think he’d zeroed in on her because she
might be that person. He didn’t even know her. Not yet.

“I find it strange we haven’t met before.” His words stroked
over her like a caress. “How do you think that happened?”

“I— We— That is—” She found her herself unaccountably
stammering.

“However it happened—or didn’t happen—I think we should
discuss it over dinner.”

She didn’t remember her goodbye to Lorelei, or what excuses
she made for leaving practically as soon as she’d arrived. The ride down to the
lobby in the elevator, being ushered into a car waiting at the curb, the drive
to a restaurant so exclusive she hadn’t even heard of it—all of it passed in a
blur. She was aware only of the overwhelming presence of the man beside her and
the power that surrounded him like an invisible cloud.

The restaurant he took her to was at the far north end of
the city, tucked away in a copse of trees, the interior broken up into small,
intimate dining rooms. The maître d’ ushered them into a room toward the back,
told Brian a waiter would be in shortly with their wine and bowed his way out.

Fallon stared at the man sitting across from her. Had he
hypnotized her? Cast some kind of spell? This was
not
like her, to allow
someone to simply whisk her away from a party without so much as a word of
protest. Not in character for her at all. Yet here she sat, like some idiot,
unable to pull a coherent thought together, spellbound by this man. By the
strength of his masculine aura. By the hunger in his eyes.

“I have a special wine I keep here.” The sound of his voice
flowed over her like a warm caress. “It’s the only wine I drink. I make sure
they stock it at the restaurants I frequent.”