Destined for the Dom [Masters of Submission 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (13 page)

Zoë hadn’t told him about her new job. She guessed she’d break it to him gently when the time was right. Goddamn it, Hunter might not like the idea of her returning to that type of work, but he hadn’t committed himself to her. He didn’t own her. She’d told him how much she loved him on many occasions, but he’d never once returned the sentiment. She figured he just wanted a relationship with no strings attached—no commitment, no false promises. Well, if all Hunter wanted was a fuck buddy, then she had to start making plans, and that meant earning her own money. At thirty, she still had a few good years of exotic dancing ahead of her. She needed to put money by for her future. Maybe then she could set up that dance school she’d promised herself.

While Hunter had been away, she’d had a dancing pole fitted in her bedroom. They always slept together in his room, so she was confident he’d never find out.

Zoë began warming up with a few light exercises. In a couple of hours she’d be doing this for real. She was out of practice and needed to get her sexy routine just right. Even though pole dancing required a lot of muscle and flexibility, the secret of a good dancer was to make it all look easy.

After practicing for the best part of an hour, she took a break. Following a cold drink and a rub down, she decided to try another routine. This time, she pretended the ladder-back chair, complete with a stuffed pillow, was an important client from Dubai.

Five minutes into her routine, she spun around before stopping dead in her tracks. She held a hand to her chest in surprise. “Hunter, you’re back early.” He leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes were bright and supercharged as they flicked appreciatively over her scantily clad body.

She rushed over and kissed him full on the lips. “I’ve really missed you, babe. Five days seems like an eternity.”

“I missed you, too, Peaches.” He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. Hunter pointed to the dancing pole and chair standing center stage. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, just practicing a few moves. It helps me keep fit.” She evaded his eyes and turned away.

“I know you too well, Zoë, there’s more to tell.”

She shook her head. Hunter could read her like a book. Even as kids he always knew exactly what she was thinking. “All right. If you must know, I’ve found a job. I’ve relied far too much on you lately. I need my independence.”

He clasped her chin and angled her face to his. “What sort of job?”

“The pay’s real good, and it will get me out of the house.”

“Answer the question, Zoë. What sort of job?” His tone was measured, but it held that steely underlying menace that made her shiver deep inside. She could tell he was angry.

Zoë raised her chin, defiantly holding his gaze. This time she wouldn’t back down. This time she wouldn’t submit to his control. “The new club is real nice.”

“For the last time, Zoë, what sort of job?” She heard the impatience in his voice, and decided to come clean.

“A dancing job.”

His hands dropped to his sides, but his fingers kept clenching and unclenching. She figured he was doing his darndest to stay calm. Well he wasn’t the only one. Eventually he spoke, “A dancer? No way.”

Going on the defensive, Zoë stood her ground. “Hunter, listen to me. I’m fast losing my sanity here. I can’t stay at home all day long, while you’re away working. I need a job. I need money of my own. I need to be my own woman. Don’t you understand, I need to save for my future.”

“Save? What for?” His brows drew together, and he looked confused.

“For when…” She shrugged, not wanting to push him on this. For when he didn’t want her anymore, she’d been about to say. She couldn’t rely on Hunter for the rest of her life. “I need to save for a rainy day,” she finally blurted out. Zoë turned and began putting the chair and pillow away. She didn’t want an argument, but she could sense Hunter’s disapproval a mile off.

“Rainy day? What makes you think there’s going to be a rainy day?”

“Hunter, you know as well as me, there’s always a rainy day for people like us.”

“No, that’s bullshit, Zoë. We’ve both risen above that. We’ve moved on. We’re not the same people who went to St. Mark’s.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

He stared at her for a long time. “I strongly disagree.”

“We can’t move on, Hunter. Both of us are stuck in the past. You have nightmares every night. You’re plagued by guilt, just for surviving Afghanistan when your buddies didn’t.” Zoë knew she’d hit a raw nerve when his demeanor darkened even more. His eyes were furious, but she had to continue. “I live in the real world, Hunter. I have to make contingency plans. I need a job, and that’s all there is to it.”

He stalked right up to her, and held her wrist tightly in his hand. “I strictly forbid it.”

Zoë felt her eyes widen. She wouldn’t allow him to dominate her anywhere apart from the playroom. She yanked her hand away. “Forbid, forbid. Who the hell do you think you are, Mister? You can forbid all you want, but it won’t make a damned bit of difference to me. I’ve already accepted the job, and I start tonight.”

“Over my dead body.”

“You don’t own me. You can’t stop me. Give me one good reason why I should listen to you?” She wanted him to say,
because I love you, Peaches
. Why couldn’t he whisper those three little words? Instead, he just turned on his heels. It was clear Hunter didn’t love her. She was just there to satisfy his ego.

Zoë glanced at her watch. “I need to get changed. I’ve made you something to eat. It’s in the refrigerator.”

As he strode angrily away, he shouted over his shoulder, “Just remember, I don’t approve of this at all, young lady.”

“Your objection has been noted, Mr. Black,” she called angrily after him.

When he’d finally gone, Zoë slumped onto her bed. She nervously wrung her hands together. They were sweating. That hadn’t gone well. It was their first real argument. They’d had the odd disagreement or two in the last four months, but nothing like this. Was this the beginning of the end of their relationship? Zoë wiped away a tear that started to trickle down her cheek. She genuinely believed that Hunter would be the man she settled down with, but that was no more than a fanciful dream now. She loved him, but it hurt her to know that he didn’t love her back.

Taking a deep breath, Zoë pulled herself together and went over to the wardrobe. She opened the door and reached inside. After pulling out several garments, she decided on a low-cut black dress. The Déjà Vu Club on the outskirts of Boston was a far superior venue to that of Les Belles, where she worked in Pittsburgh. It required a more sophisticated wardrobe. When she was completely satisfied with her makeup, hair, and presentation, she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs. She’d already called a cab, and she waited patiently by the front door for it to arrive.

Hunter came out the kitchen and began walking down the hallway. “Listen, Peaches, let’s not part on an argument.” He was eating a cold chicken leg she’d prepared for him earlier. His jaw dropped open when he saw how she was dressed.

He pointed his chicken leg at her. “There is no way on earth you’re leaving this house, dressed like that.”

“Don’t start again, Hunter. You make me wear far more revealing clothes at Club Submission.” It was true. She’d been three of four times now, and each time he’d insisted she hardly wear anything at all.

He beat his chest with his fist. “You just don’t get it, do you, Zoë. I’m always with you at the club. I’m always there to protect and look after you. This is different. You’re gonna be dancing up close and personal with strange men you’ve never set eyes on before. You need protecting from yourself.” If Hunter was jealous, why didn’t he just come out and say it?

“Look, we’ve already had this conversation. Let’s face it, I’m a burden. This way I can pay my own way.”

“I can’t believe you want to return to exotic dancing.” He held out his hands, palm up as if he couldn’t understand her motives. “Why, Zoë? Why? It’s never once made you happy. So why go back to it?”

It was true. She’d hated working as a dancer at Les Belles. The way the guys ogled her like she was a piece of meat had seriously undermined her self worth. How could she have forgotten that humiliation? Hunter was right, but her stubborn pride refused to back down now.

When her cab pulled up, she looked out of the window. “Look, my ride’s here. I’m going, and that’s final.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Hunter angrily threw his chicken leg across the floor, and halted her progress.

“Hunter, let me go. You’re embarrassing me. My cab is waiting.”

His eyes blazed hotly. “I don’t give a fuck about your cab. You’re coming with me.” When she refused to come willingly, he threw her over his shoulder and hauled her up the stairs. He slapped her ass three times for good measure.

“Ow, that hurts, you bastard. Put me down.”

“Gladly.” Without finesse, he dumped her on his bed. When she tried to escape, he hooked a set of handcuffs around her wrists, and secured her to the headboard.

Without a word he left the room.

“You come back here right this minute, Mister, and unlock these fucking cuffs.” When he didn’t return, she screamed at the top of her voice. “Let me go, you bastard.” She was wasting her breath. All she heard was silence.

Hunter paced up and down outside the house.
Damn
. Things had come to a head with Zoë. He just couldn’t allow her to go to that fucking club and parade her body around. He knew exactly what went through men’s minds when they watched a beautiful woman sexily gyrate in front of them. He just couldn’t stomach the thought of other men ogling her body, then jerking off when they got home.

She was his. Zoë belonged to him.

How can she belong to you, dude? You haven’t committed to her. You haven’t even told the girl you love her yet. What the fuck’s she supposed to think? She’s all alone for days on end, and when you return from work, you won’t even let her out of the house. As soon as you finally let her go, she’ll be gone for good. She’ll pack her bags and you won’t see her again. Is that what you want, dummy?

Tell her how you really feel about her, you dumb bastard. She’ll understand.

Everyone I’ve ever loved has either deserted me or died. I’m not ready to tell her I love her yet.

Then you’re a Goddamn idiot, because you’ll lose her anyway. She won’t understand why you don’t commit to her.

Maybe if he could just explain how he felt inside.

In frustration, Hunter ruffled his hair with his hands.
Shit, I’ve stirred up a real fucking hornet’s nest and all because I’m jealous.
He was jealous of any man who found Zoë attractive. The idea of her dancing provocatively in front of a bunch of guys made him see red. Okay, so plenty of guys ogled Zoë at Club Submission, but he was there and in control of the situation. If any guy ogled Zoë without his permission, he wouldn’t think twice about punching his lights out.

Hunter glanced at his watch. She’d been handcuffed up there for almost five minutes. Her wrists must be starting to ache. He couldn’t leave her for much longer. Perhaps he should check on her, and if she’d calmed down a bit, take it from there.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, and then pushed open the bedroom door. Zoë lay on the bed, completely motionless. The restrictive nature of the handcuffs meant her arms were raised high above her head. He naïvely wondered if she were sleeping. He soon realized how wrong he’d been when her angry voice pierced through the gathering darkness. “Hunter, get these cuffs off, now.”

“And just what will happen if I do?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

“Then I’d better wait a while until you’ve calmed down.”

“I ain’t never gonna calm down, Hunter. You can’t control my life like this. I won’t allow you to.” Zoë seethed with obvious frustration. She rattled the cuffs against the metal headboard. “Just let me go, Mister. I’ve about had it with you.”

Hunter switched on the bedside lamp.

“Oh, wonder of wonders, we have light at last. I thought you were going to keep me in the dark, like a prisoner forever.” Her voice dripped with undisguised sarcasm.

Hunter felt like a selfish bastard. “I know I’ve acted harshly, but it’s for your own good, Peaches.”

“For my own good, for my own good?” She sounded exasperated. “You sanctimonious prick. I needed that money to be independent from
you
.”

Hunter reeled from her venomous words. It sounded as though she hated him. Was she that unhappy? Surely, their relationship these past few months had been strong? How could he have got it so wrong? He didn’t want to hold her back. He wanted her to do better and bigger things with her life. She didn’t need to take a seedy dancing job anymore. He would look after her. He loved her.

Then tell her, dude, before it’s too late.

If only I could
.

He glanced at Zoë. She seemed thoroughly pissed off. If he didn’t say something soon, he’d lose her. “Maybe I need to explain.”

“You certainly do, Mister, but I ain’t listening to anything you’ve got to say, until you release me from these Goddamn cuffs.”