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  “Do you remember how gently I fucked your bottom hole last night?” he growled.

  She nodded.

  “If you disobey me and put yourself in danger, that will become a fond memory. I won’t be nearly as gentle when I fuck your ass after I’ve welted it for you first. Do you hear me, little girl?”

  “But if we…”

  “Again, with the ‘we.’ There is no ‘we’ in this situation. You will stay safe, and Michael and I will deal with Ms. Vincent.”

  “But…”

  “Precisely. It will be your butt that pays the price for your disobedience.” He stared down at her, silently daring her to continue arguing with him. Try as she might, Sage just couldn’t hold his stare.

  Dropping her eyes, she said morosely, “I just wanted to help. And I am the one she tried to kill.”

  Roark pulled her into his embrace, stroking her body until all the tension left and she melted into him.

  “I know, Pet. That’s why I don’t want you involved. I couldn’t stand if something happened to you. We’ll make sure she pays… one way or another.”

  Sage saw the soft, loving look fade from his eyes to be replaced by a distant coldness that made her shiver.

  “I’m sorry I ever wrote that ending. I never saw you as a killer, just a man with his back against the wall and with no good choices.”

  In one of her latest novels, Roark had killed an unarmed man in cold blood. Granted, the guy deserved to die, but some readers had been taken aback.

  “Don’t fret.” Roark hugged her. “He needed to die, and I’m the one who needed to kill him. It was a brave choice for you to make.”

  Chapter 10

  For the next few days, Roark ensured Sage was far too occupied with starting a new series, hiring a public relations firm, meeting with Scotland Yard, and allowing herself to fall deeply, madly in love with him. Truth to tell, that last part hadn’t been difficult. She was beginning to believe he was right—he’d always been her own romantic hero, but she hadn’t seen him as a Daddy Dom. She hadn’t seen that he was exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t want to follow the rules.

  Holmes had escorted Roark to file a writ or some kind legal document to force Gail to open her books and her Swiss accounts to a criminal forensic accountant. Sage hadn’t even known she had one Swiss account, not to mention several.

  The hotel phone rang.

  “Sage Matthews.”

  “Sage, darling, it’s Gail. I ended up extending my stay. I feel bad about the way things ended between us, and I think maybe we both said some things that we perhaps regret…”

  Gail continued to prattle on, but Sage wasn’t really listening. She wanted to tell her that she had proof of her embezzlement, knew Gail had tried to kill her, and Roark was filing the necessary paperwork to see her pay for what she’d done. Then Gail said something interesting.

  “I really think we ought to have lunch and part as friends.”

  Friends? But if she wanted to meet, maybe she could show Roark she wasn’t as helpless as he sometimes seemed to think she was. If she was going to make a life with him, he needed to know she was a competent individual and could help him in his work… between writing her new series.

  So, instead of telling her to fuck off, she said, “I’d like that, Gail. I agree we meant too much to each other over the years. Can you do it today, here at the Savoy?”

  Gail laughed. How had she never heard that bitter note of winter in Gail’s voice?

  “I heard you had moved into the Savoy as a writer-in-residence. And how clever of your new PR firm to come up with the idea of getting some uber-sexy model to portray your lover and muse, your inspiration for Clive Thomas as it were. Finally going to retire that series?”

  Sage was still having trouble accepting that Roark’s character in the books had now been replaced by a character named Clive Thomas. It was curious. Only she and the characters that had stepped out of novels knew that any substitution had been made.

  “Yes, I thought I’d give him his own happily-ever-after with a feisty heroine, the kind you always hated. Say one o’clock this afternoon? I’ll make a reservation.”

  “Lovely. See you then.”

  Shaking her head, she dialed Roark’s cell. They both continued to marvel at the fact everything she’d ever written about Roark—money, fashion, virility, etc.—had come with him from the novels. The only thing that hadn’t been in her books was his Daddy Dom-ness.

  “What’s up, Pet?” he answered. “We’re with the Crown Prosecutors.”

  “When will you be home?”

  “Put your motor on idle, Pet. Daddy will take care of you when he gets there. Be a good girl and follow the rules. We don’t want a repeat of yesterday’s lesson, do we?”

  Before she had a chance to say anything, he disconnected. She started to get angry and call him back, then remembered her phone had a record feature. She and Gail would be in the Savoy, for God’s sake. She could let Felix and Gabe know she was having lunch with her nemesis. Besides which, what could possibly happen at the Savoy?

  Sage took a shower and dressed with care. She put on a pair of black leather trousers with ankle boots. She paired it with a black leather corset and an eggplant-colored, raw silk swing coat. She wanted to meet her adversary on equal footing. At precisely one, she left her room. Gail could bloody well wait for her for a change. Hanging back until she saw Gail enter the restaurant, Sage straightened her spine, turned on the recorder, and headed to the table. She had specifically asked for a very public table by the window.

  “Sage, darling, it’s not like you to be late.”

  “I find these days I’m so busy, I can only be on time for the really important things… and people.”

  “Well done,” Gail said with a sly smile. “I see your new firm got you into some decent clothes.”

  “Actually, it was Roark. He knows several of the London designers, and they were happy to send his woman some things. We’re attending a big art thing next week, and the gowns I had to choose from were simply stunning.”

  Gail looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered.

  “I felt bad about some things I said and frankly, about not listening to you when you wanted to start your little paranormal series. I know that isn’t usually something I do, but I feel I should have made an exception for your vanity project. I know you can’t have a publisher yet, so I thought maybe we should meet and put all this unpleasantness behind us. As you said, we’ve meant a lot to each other over the years.”

  “My vanity project? Hardly. I do find it curious, for once, your information from the gossips is behind the times. I do, in fact, have a new publisher. We only recently inked the deal, but it is a very lucrative one. I stand to make so much more money than I ever did with you. They’re very excited, the writing is going really well, and I should have the manuscript to them by the end of the month.”

  “Really?” Gail couldn’t quite mask her surprise fast enough. “Well… good for you. For what it must be costing you to stay here and pay that model, you’ll need the money. Then why, I wonder, did you agree to meet? Wanting to gloat? That’s not like you.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about what makes me tick. And no, I have no need to gloat, and Roark is not a cover model. He’s my lover and my Dom. I’ve moved into his permanent suite here at the Savoy. The funny thing is, I used his suite for my inspiration for Clive’s suite. It’s curious how art often imitates life. I just wanted to tell you how wonderful things are going, and I know you hired William Shackelford to kill me. I can’t prove it yet, but Roark and DSI Holmes at Scotland Yard are working on it.” Sage let that sink in before standing and motioning to the maître d’.

  “See that anything Ms. Vincent wants is put on our account. Kiss-kiss, Gail. Enjoy yourself. I doubt you have many more days of freedom or much money left.”

  Sage spun on her heel and headed back for the lift, hearing Gail scrambling to extricate herself from t
he table. Gail caught up with her just before the lift doors open.

  “You bitch,” Gail seethed. “I made you. You were nothing before I found you, and you’ll be nothing after this new book of yours bombs. But it won’t matter,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning close to Sage, “because you’ll be dead.”

  Gail pulled a hatpin from her stylish vintage veiled pillbox hat and swung it in an arc toward Sage, who jumped back and crashed into something very large and very solid… Roark knocked the hatpin from Gail’s hands. Sage made a wild dive for it before it fell down the shaft of the lift as the door opened. Grasping it by the pearlized end, she held it aloft and looked at Roark triumphantly, but his dark eyes held Satan’s own fury. She wanted desperately to believe it was directed toward Gail, but her butt clenched. She knew full well who would feel the sting of his displeasure.

  “Really, Gail?” she said, ignoring her growing arousal. “I had the villainess in The Toxic Corpse try to kill Clive with a poisoned hatpin.” Sage fished around in the large pockets of her swing coat and produced two plastic baggies, dropping her phone into one and the hatpin into the other, then turned back to Roark.

  “If you give this to DSI Holmes, I’ll bet he finds traces of thallium,” Sage said, handing both baggies to Roark. “And I had my phone set to record.”

  Gail seemed dumbstruck for an instant before turning around to make a hasty retreat. Only she ran into something rather large and solid, too—Gabriel Waverly.

  Roark extended the baggies with the hatpin and Sage’s phone to Felix, who had arrived with Gabe. Gabe had apprehended Gail, and she was unable to get away.

  “Handle this carefully,” Roark said, “and give it to DSI Holmes. According to Nancy Drew here, it’s coated in a lethal poison, and the other has some fairly damning evidence.”

  “Very good, sir,” Felix said.

  “I’ll take care of ensuring Ms. Vincent is handed over to the Yard,” Gabe said as he removed a hissing and spitting Gail from the lobby into his office, where she could be held without disturbing the Savoy’s patrons.

  Roark turned to Sage, pulling her into his embrace. “Room, corner, strip, now,” he whispered before his mouth crashed down on hers in a fiery kiss. “I need to speak to Gabe and Felix, but you had better be waiting for me when I get there.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she answered softly and meekly.

  Sage went back to their room and did as instructed. She didn’t have long to wait before the door opened and Roark entered the room.

  “Of all the lame, foolish, reckless stunts. What do you have to say for yourself? No, wait, it doesn’t matter. All I need to know is… did you really think if you’d told me what you were planning to do, I’d have given you permission? You couldn’t have possibly thought that since you didn’t have my permission to leave our room,” he thundered.

  “But I got the evidence of what she was doing! I recorded her trying to kill me. She was apprehended with the murder weapon in her hand,” she said, whirling around to face him.

  “Do you bloody think I give a damn about that? She could have killed you!”

  Sage stared in horrified fascination as Roark unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves before unbuckling his belt.

  “You put your nose in that corner, little girl. Hands against the wall, bottom pushed out, legs spread.”

  “Roark?” she barely managed to squeak out.

  “That’s the third time you’ve risked your life and the second time you’ve left our room without Daddy’s permission. Obviously, a mere spanking, followed by a rough fucking isn’t getting through to you. Let’s see if a set of welts makes an impression.”

  “Welts? Now? With no warmup? Is that even allowed?” she said in a rush, starting to panic.

  “Daddies don’t have to do anything they don’t want to, and you haven’t behaved well enough to be eased into a welting. Now, Sage,” he growled the last.

  She turned back to the corner and complied. The only warning she had that she was about to get her first taste of a belt applied to her backside was a swoosh a fraction of a second before his belt laid a two-inch lick of fire across her bottom. Sage wailed and bounced up on her toes, trying to tuck her tail. The strap of hellfire struck again, intersecting with the first weal.

  “No, Sage, push that bottom back out. I intend your first welting to be memorable. You will not put yourself in danger!”

  It was the desperation in his voice that stole her breath and will away. It was obvious he was at a loss how to ensure her safety, and as he’d said, he meant to make this bad enough she never tempted fate again. If he’d yelled at her, it would have been easier, but knowing she had scared him did more damage than the belt ever would. She caved in and began sobbing.

  The third strike was even worse, landing across the lower part of her backside and intersecting with both he’d already laid down. She bit back a scream, the fire and searing agony beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

  “Daddy, please, I’m sorry. I’ll behave,” she cried.

  It seemed in times of extreme emotion, the honorarium came easily and naturally.

  “You’re damn right, you’ll behave.”

  She sagged against the wall a complete mess—sobbing, sniffling, mascara running, snot dribbling out of her nose. Sage heard his belt slice through the air a fourth time.

  “You’re doing very well, Pet. Daddy is proud of you… angry but proud.” His tone softened as she collapsed against the wall. “Do you think you can take one more?”

  That did it—Sage completely lost it. Reluctantly, she nodded and remained facing the corner, her hands braced against the wall, pushing her bottom out to embrace one last strapping. She might have thought she was ready, but when it landed, it still drove her back onto her tiptoes, where she bounced, trying to lessen the agony… and failing. She tried sucking and gasping air, but that didn’t help either.

  “That’s my good girl,” he crooned lovingly.

  Sage was a study in abject misery. Her bottom was swollen, with raw weals of fire splayed across it. She rested her head on the wall, crying hot, silent tears.

  The worst part wasn’t the pain but the desire clawing at her insides, causing her nipples to bead and her pussy to pool its wet heat. Her sheath had clenched as each welt landed and now was rhythmically spasming in anticipation. Instead of enfolding her in his embrace, he pressed her upper body into the wall and rained a fury of blistering swats all across her backside, which wouldn’t have been half as painful were it not for landing on the fresh weals.

  “No…” she wailed.

  The pain was beyond excruciating, but worse than the physical pain was the fact she was wildly aroused and an emotional disaster. She didn’t care how much she hurt—all she wanted was to feel Roark’s cock surging into her, pounding her pussy into the same level of submission he’d just beat into her ass. Reaching between her legs, he chuckled, finding the evidence of her shameful need.

  Sage would always recall that was the exact moment she realized she had capitulated to him completely—mentally, emotionally, physically, and sexually. Roark’s fingers played lightly across the weals he’d given her. Her body shuddered, and she feared she would collapse in a puddle of gooey need at his feet.

  “I know more than one way to make you sore, little girl,” he said, “but that’s going to have to wait.”

  “Wait?” she asked incredulously.

  “When you misbehave to the point I have to take my belt to your beautiful backside, I’m not necessarily going to ease your need to be forgiven and fucked. While you are most definitely forgiven, that need for a sexual release that’s surging through your system will have to wait. Go wash your face and fix your makeup. We have an appointment at Dark Garden.”

  “Roark…”

  “What do you call me when you’re being punished?”

  “Daddy. I’m sorry, but please don’t make me put on those leather pants… please?”

  “Hmm, I ought to, b
ut those weals are coming up nicely. Why don’t you put on the little black dress with the deep asymmetrical neckline, black bra, and black stockings.” He glanced at his watch. “Hurry along, Pet. I don’t want to be late.”

  She realized saying no was not an option. She slipped into the bathroom, fixed her face, and came back out to get dressed. He opened the drawer and pulled out his favorite butt plug and a pocket rocket with a remote control. He looked up and grinned. She was fairly sure he could read her expression of concern as he slipped each into his pocket.

  “Just in case my little girl needs to be reprimanded while we’re out.”

  She only barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. Once dressed, Roark escorted her downstairs and to a waiting town car. She was a bit surprised to see a pillow on the back seat and blushed when she realized Roark must have arranged for it. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry, humiliated, or grateful for his doing so.

  “Do you know the Dark Garden?” asked Roark, after helping her in, joining her, and closing the door.

  “Yes, sir, I do indeed.” The driver’s eyes caught Sage’s in the rearview mirror. “My missus would love to go there, but it’s a bit too rich for my blood.”

  They pulled up to a beautiful Georgian building with the discrete sign. They were escorted inside and the owner, Louis, came out to greet them.

  “Roark, how very nice to see you, mon ami. Is this your beautiful Sage?”

  “It is. Sage this is Louis, he’s been making exquisite lingerie for the longest time. Louis, I want to get Sage some new things. Except for this morning, she has been a very good girl.”

  Sage whirled and looked at him. “You can’t expect me to strip down for a fitting?”

  “Why ever not? I’m quite sure Louis has seen more than one submissive’s backside showing the evidence of her Daddy’s disapproval and discipline.”

  “I have indeed. You are not to concern yourself. Roark, do you know what you’re looking for?”

  “Roark…” she pleaded.