Protege(17)
“I understand.” Her tension seemed to ease as her body relaxed.
“I plan to push you. You’ll experience everything on that list by the end of the month.”
Her gaze sharpened, a touch of panic creasing her brow. “My hard limits?”
“Are off limits.” And he was pleased with her choices, finding no pleasure in choking or slapping a woman.
“When would we start?”
Taking her question as enthusiasm, he assumed her reservations were momentarily put to rest. “As soon as all our ducks are in a row. My attorney will put together a temporary contract and you’ll have time to review it and make any changes you see fit. You’ll visit our in-house clinic and pack an overnight bag.”
“Where am I going?”
He reminded himself she was an outsider and didn’t have any relatives on the inside explaining how the process worked. “You’re going to Fernweh. We’ll be living at my chateau.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t a place.”
“Necessarily. I said it’s a society of like-minded people. We have too many members across the globe to squeeze into one town, but the founders, myself included, occupy a secluded patch of land that allows for the desired level of privacy.”
“So there’ll be others around?”
He sensed this made her nervous. “Yes, but they’re also members of Fernweh, Collette. They aren’t there to judge. I promise their presence will be minimal and their only commentary will be courteous.”
She let out a long breath. “This is a lot.”
“It is. You have time to decide.” He stood and her gaze followed him in a way that heated his flesh.
“When do I pay you?”
“You don’t. Yet. This is a prerequisite. Your application’s incomplete until we verify your proclivities. Once that’s done, and I’ve compiled all my data, your application will be complete and you’ll pay for your membership at my personal endorsement.”
Her coloring slightly paled. “Do you do this with a lot of the members?”
“No. Most members are experienced enough to know their likes and dislikes. They also come with a referral so they don’t require the amount of backing you do. Make no mistake, Ms. Banks, you will be in Fernweh as my guest. I expect your behavior to reflect such a privilege. As the founder, I’m expected to proceed with a level of knowledge, ability, and attention to detail.”
“I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”
“I imagine you will.”
***
When she returned to her temporary home, her body cried out in ways she wasn’t used to. A soreness set in throughout her lower half, its mild throbbing a constant reminder of his ruthless handling and how fast he caused her sex to react.
She wasn’t offended by the way he touched her. On the contrary, she was fascinated. He took hold of her with such knowledge, such precision. It was like falling under the spell of an expert magician. Before she knew it her soul was shattering and she was catching glimpses of effervescent light under the blindness of pleasure. It made the idea of a month with him completely frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
She was one hundred ten percent sure she was making the right decision until the contract was delivered, served to her like a cold set of divorce papers. The messenger merely verified her name, then passed her the thick envelope and disappeared.
It was heavier than she expected. By the time she was sitting on the bed in her rented room, her palms were sweating. Carefully, she broke the seal and slid the thick sheaf onto the covers.
The first page was a liability statement, removing Jude Duval, who would from then on be referred to as Sir or the Dom, of all accountability should she claim emotional distress or seek legal counsel, which would be available to her at any time. Her anticipation chilled with the overwhelming sense that she was out of her league, and by page two of the contract, she thought about calling him.
She hadn’t expected all this legal jargon to interfere but supposed that was na?ve, being that this was a binding contract and she was entrusting a stranger with her well-being for the next thirty days. By page three, she decided to call.
Jude was not an easy man to reach. After expressing a self-determined right to speak to him and a true belief that he would take her call, his secretary finally patched her through.
His voice was level, not translating concern or frustration for that matter. “Collette, is there a problem?”
She tsked, discouraged by the number of hoops she had to jump through just to reach him. “Well, yeah. I’m a highly educated woman, Mr. Duval, but this contract is a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo and permissible hoo-hah. I can barely understand it and I’m smart enough not to sign my name to something that’s as clotted up with—pardon my French—bullshit as this.”
He chuckled. “That wasn’t French.”
“Would you like me to translate?”
His tone turned amused. “That won’t be necessary. Did the attorney not leave you his number?”
“Well . . . it’s here, but I just figured I’d go to the source.”
“Understandable, but I’m afraid this is the one area where I must decline to assist you, Ms. Banks. It could be mistaken for coercion if I explain the contract to you. That’s why we provide legal counsel to all our members.”