“That might be a better option then eating lunch with a smartass.”
Chad never lost his grin. “Your call.”
Olly said nothing and didn’t watch Chad walk away.
He looked out into the sun.
Circle each other.
She was who she was. Amélie. Mistress Amélie. A woman who liked to tie men down and paddle their asses. A genius at that shit. And she was that, apparently, just like Barclay, with no hang-ups.
He was not that. He was not ready for the Bee’s Honey. He wasn’t thinking he’d ever be ready and he had some serious shit fucking with his head wondering if he even wanted to be.
So it sucked. She was gorgeous. He liked her voice. He totally got off on what she did to him. He wanted more and that included the fact he wouldn’t mind actually getting to know her.
But it was done. He had to end this shit.
All of it.
It was tearing him apart.
So Olly was not going back on Saturday.
No way.
AMÉLIE
Word is, you gave quite a show last night, the text from Mirabelle read.
Amélie’s lips curved as, late evening the day after her session with Olivier, she moved through her house with her phone in one hand, a glass of chilled white wine in the other, doing this with practiced ease even as her cat, Cleopatra, wove through her feet.
She arrived at the couch that faced her wall of windows. Windows that showed a stunning view of Phoenix at night off Camelback Mountain, where her home was located in an exclusive neighborhood in Paradise Valley.
This view, of course, being beyond the negative-edge pool, clean-lined decking, contemporary but comfortable outdoor furniture and, before that, the open gas fireplace that sat inside her expansive living room between her and the vista beyond.
The evening proved enjoyable, she texted back, a smile curving her mouth.
Enjoyable.
A vast understatement.
Cleopatra jumped up to the couch after Amélie sat, took a sip of wine, and leaned forward to rest the elegantly curved glass on her equally elegantly curved coffee table. After she relaxed back into the couch, the Siamese put her two front paws to Amélie’s thigh, knowing what she was demanding and knowing she would get it.
Amélie was a Dominatrix but she felt no shame admitting she was the dominated when it came to her pets.
Her eyes scanned for Stasia, her other furry darling. She was unsurprised when Stasia was nowhere to be seen.
Stasia loved her Maman. She was just exceptionally choosy about the times she wished to display that.
Cleo, on the other hand, was purring loudly as Amélie scratched her neck and occasionally gently rubbed both ears, able to do this now without Cleo racing away when she touched the mutilated one as had happened when Cleo first came home. The notch out of Cleopatra’s ear had been one of several sad and infuriating reasons Dr. Hill had not allowed her to go back to her owners after they’d brought her in to his veterinary clinic.
These sad and infuriating reasons meant Amélie had no idea if it was the natural curiosity and intelligence of a Siamese that meant Cleopatra’s spirit had not been broken in the first home she’d shared with humans (like, alas, her sweet but very shy Stasia’s had).
She’d just painstakingly, with great love, an abundance of patience, and pure joy, made certain she reinforced that spirit so the second (and last) home Cleo would share with a human would be an entirely different experience.
Amélie heard a noise come from her laptop that was sitting on the coffee table in front of her. She looked to it to see the notification in the bottom right corner and felt her mouth get tight when she saw who the email was from at the same time another noise came from her phone.
She reached for the laptop before she looked to her phone.
The email was from her financial adviser, sharing yet again that, although they’d just returned from a series of travel to see to business, he was advising two more meetings, one in Seattle, one in San Francisco.
It wasn’t her financial adviser that set her mouth. He was a good man, she’d known him a long time and he was absolutely trustworthy.
No, it was something else.
Amélie stared at the email, having hesitated after his earlier email on the same subject to pull the trigger on scheduling the meetings due to the fact that they’d just returned. She had a home. She volunteered at Dr. Hill’s practice, and although she was a volunteer, she took the time she gave him as serious as if it were paid employment. Not to mention, she had pets who liked her around (even Stasia, although she rarely showed it).
She enjoyed travel but she’d been gone weeks, she didn’t want to leave again so soon.
And last, the reason she wasn’t pleased to see that email pop up reminding her she needed to make a decision, she found these business trips mind-numbingly dull.
Like waking anesthesia.
She detested them.
She just needed to attend them because …
Because …
She blinked at the computer screen.
She had no idea what that “because” was.
What she did know was that, now, she definitely wasn’t going to schedule those meetings.
Not for a good while.
This was because she had a home. She had pets. She did office work at Dr. Hill’s clinic. What she did was not essential in the aid of the animals he cared for, but it did assist his endeavors. And, regardless of the repetitive quality of the work, it was the only thing at the end of any day that Amélie felt good about in her life, something with more than a small amount of alarm she was allowing herself to realize.