I’m not taking the Anna Fiske case” I said to Dorman Sr. In his office, awkward silence hovered in the air like a deflated helium balloon as my boss weighed my bold statement.Dorman clicked a ball point pen. The sound echoed off the wall of books to my right. “Perry Ward came to me and directly requested you, Wil. He and I both believe that you’re the best lawyer for the job.” In the doorway behind me, Perry looked worried. In the meeting last week, I decided what was best for me, I just hadn’t known how to go about it. Now, I nodded at her then took control.I planted my high heels on the carpet. “I won’t represent Perry Ward. Give him to Domie.” Dorman appeared confused. “Why are you arguing this one, Wil?”“Because I’ve earned that right. I won’t take the case.” Adding fuel to Dorman’s fiery red discomfort, I said, “Richard Mackenzie and I are no longer under contract.” A muscle twitched in Dorman’s neck. “I thought you’d keep him under contract for the other services that the f
Before heading out of town, Richard took me to Alinea, the restaurant where we first signed our Elements of Engagement contract. For the occasion, I wore a green sundress with a matching pair of Carlos Santana high heels. Because of the heat, I put my hair up. I also wore the diamond-studded collar. Richard ordered for us under candlelight. We had come a long way together. I was grateful for the many things he had helped me overcome. I was glad we had worked together to solve the crimes and glad that Kanji and Travis had been caught. And in the end, we had stood beside each other in our hours of need. I looked around the room. The streamlined décor, marble tabletops, and half-moon wall sconces accented posh elegance. Well-dressed patrons were scattered around the room. At the table next to ours, a woman wore a black silk top and more diamonds than I’d seen in most jewelry store windows. Businessmen in Italian leather shoes strolled to the bar and a trio of celebrity pro basketball p
Erik drove north out of the Chicago city limits toward Lake Forest. Rain drummed on the roof of the car as we rode in silence, leaving behind Chicago and the murders; the law firm of Dorman, Wallace, and Edwards; and my friends. My support system. There was a sense of finality to that chapter of my life as a new chapter commenced. The changing landscape as we drove reflected the internal changes in me. Skyscrapers shrank into the distance. Large office complexes grew fewer and more scattered. Trees popped up and then groves of trees. Here, it was more heavily forested, lush and green, especially now in midsummer. Here, the foliage swallowed small buildings whole. This part of the state reminded me of my childhood, of family, of lakes in Wisconsin. Here, I was returning to my roots. Richard lived on Murray Lane, and it didn’t go unnoticed by me that Murray was the last name of Ms. Thena Murray of Bram Stoker’s Dracula before she married Jonathan Harker. Is that a coincidence or fat
For the rest of the week we dined in the candlelit dining room overlooking the lake. Grant, Richard’s chef and only household staff, prepared salmon, and other treats with roasted vegetables on the grill, salads with fresh farmers’ market greens and bakery bread. Tonight, we sat on a beach-sized folded towel on the damp porch swing. Richard kept his hands in his lap. It had finally stopped raining, and stars popped out in the sky. The humidity dissolved, and the air smelled of wet vegetation.“Is everything all right?” I asked.“Do you remember the night I gave you the diamond collar?”I did. He’d asked me to wear it at dinner and said there would be consequences if I did not. I leaned over and kissed him. “Yes.”“Why didn’t you wear it tonight?” I shrugged. “I thought you may have tired of it.” Tonight I had deliberately removed the collar. I had to see if he would notice. I longed for the consequences.“I haven’t.”He looked down at his burnt-orange wingtips. His dark orange shirt
As a child, my pretend play always involved someone being captured and tied up. Held indefinitely against her will, she was rarely rescued. If she did get free, the bad guy always found her and tied her up again. I liked being tied up. It gave me more freedom, if that’s possible, to be myself. To be erotic and sexy. I liked the intense feeling of spanking, whipping, paddling, and caning. In fact, I preferred that kind of pain to any mental pain and angst, real or imagined. Yes, the world was a crazy place. But I had finally found a way to fit into it. I had never intended to date my client. Rule number one was that I don’t date clients. Ever. Only now could I explain my inability to stick to that rule: I may not have been the one in control.After last night, Richard left me to think things over. Alone. He went to another part of the house—perhaps to his vampire coffin in the basement, I thought with a smile—and I opened up my laptop for answers. Overnight, I’d looked up similar cont
Almost two weeks after Travis attacked me, I dreamed about tombstoning. Determined to dive, I made my way forward in a densely overgrown forest. I could barely make out leaves and branches in the dark. I had to get to the cliff before dawn and the sky was lightening. Time was running out. Branches and brush scraped my arms and legs. I climbed as quickly as I could. Yet the faster I moved, the heavier my arms became. My legs grew stiff, and my feet stuck to the ground. Slowly, slowly, I pushed the last branch aside to reveal the cliff’s edge. On the horizon, black water met dark orange sky. I crawled toward the edge, aware that I was not alone. Children’s voices—screams—came from nearby. I looked behind me and side to side. No, the voices were coming from below. Lying on my belly, I peered over the cliff and looked down. Three young girls stood on a ledge ten or twenty feet below. The youngest who was about twelve screamed. She seemed terrified. The other two consoled her, and I judg
ONE YEAR AGO:From heights of sixty to eighty feet, it takes up to three and a half seconds to hit the water. In that brief moment of time, a thousand thoughts, images, or feelings rush through my mind. Sometimes during the fall, I’d worry I’d forgotten how. The air would rush past my body, but I’d keep my eye on the landing—growing closer each fraction of a second—as I’d tuck and somersault or straighten into an arrow. With three seconds to freefall, you enter at such a force that if any part of your body is out of line, it will break. But I’d trained for this. My body knew exactly what to do. When I hit the water, profound silence—as near to death as I could imagine—allowed me to forget what I’d done.I had a suitcase packed and ready under the defense table in the courtroom. The prosecutor Aaron Stroheim and I gave our closing speeches, and the jurors filed out to deliberate. They didn’t take long to come up with a verdict, my case was solid. My client was acquitted. As soon as th
The orange Chicago skyline glowed like fires burning in the distance. The sun hadn’t yet gone down on the sizzling summer evening. In Richard Mackenzie’s Lake Forest mansion, I closed the floor-to-ceiling curtains of the luxurious first-floor bedroom windows then lit two candles. I dabbed on tinted lip-gloss and stripped off every bit of clothing, then fastened tightly around my neck the diamond-studded collar that Richard, my lover, had given me weeks ago. Earlier, I’d printed out the document written by Richard: the Elements of Submission contract which described the relationship I was about to dive into with him. I’d taken two days to read it. Two days to read my lover. The contract outlined consensual sex play between a dominant and submissive. It listed sadistic pleasures to be given or received, including the acts of piercing and tattooing, caning, and nipple torture. Invasive devices—gags and anal plugs—were among the toys listed in the contract. Richard asked me to check off
The bed was still warm where Richard’s body had lain, but my lover was gone. In bare feet, I padded to the kitchen and found a pile of torn paper on the counter. Our dominant/submissive contract, in pieces. Beside it, a bright pink sticky-note—a love-note with his handwriting—stuck to the black granite counter. As a submissive, you have all the control. Love, Richard.He’d told me that before, and I never grasped the meaning. Yet when I thought of our relationship as a whole, I realized Richard gave me everything I ever needed. He gave me punishment when I asked for it. He gave me space when I—like a child having a temper tantrum—walked away from him. Through it all, he had been there for me in every way I needed. He loved me. And I loved him. Where do we go from here?I pulled up his number on my cell phone and dialed. The call went to voicemail, but I left a message. “Hey. Thanks for stopping by last night.” I didn’t know what to say. “I . . . uh, I wanted to see if you’ll go on a
Natasha sat on the bed and leveled the rifle at me while I got a pair of jeans and a shirt out of my suitcase. He ripped them from my hand and threw them into the closet. “Where is the dress I sent to you? The one you wore at the fundraiser.”I snarled, “I threw it in the trash.” “A shame. Find something else. Something nice!”I held up a sleeveless black dress and he seemed satisfied. I dressed behind the closed bathroom door then put on a pair of black high heels.Natasha’s beady eyes followed me like a coyote seeking fresh prey. “Where is your diamond collar?”I’d left it here the last time I returned to Chicago. The black velvet box sat on top of the dresser still. Natasha saw where my gaze landed and prodded me with the rifle. “Wear it.” I clipped the necklace around my throat as Natasha came to my side to examine the jeweled collar. My shoulder. My hair. His touch sickened me. He clasped his hand around my throat and squeezed. “He marked you with this. He thinks he owns you.
He said he’d be there for me when I returned. Since the weekend trip was short, I packed a small bag that included a bathing suit, change of clothes and one sheath dress for dinner the night before my dive. On the late-night two-hour flight from Chicago to Burlington, Vermont, I perused Google’s list of top sights near Lake Champlain. I’d never before been to South Burlington, where American history and museums abounded. My finger hovered over the link to the Church Street Marketplace—an outdoor shopping mall that stretched four blocks. It brought to mind the horrific day Roman was kidnapped. I shut my laptop and lay my head back on the headrest. I envied the woman sleeping across the aisle from me. Her deep breathing sounded peaceful. That kind of contentment felt out of my reach.At seven-thirty last night, Greg had driven me to The Office Bar, where I met with Charlie Reid for a much needed pep-talk. She walked me through a plan to help Bohdi Michaels avoid the twenty-year priso
I spent a week in Chicago, visiting Roman and diving into work. I avoided Richard because I needed time to think things through. Richard said he loved me. He’d done everything in his power to help find Roman. Then he donated the one million dollars to the battered women’s shelter.I needed to go to him. I needed to see if he could give me what I wanted.I stepped into the dimly lit Lake Forest house with my agenda at the forefront of my mind. With the FBI team gone, an unusual sense of quiet had settled over the house. Security guards hung around quietly minding their own business, yet ever watchful.The scar on my leg ached. I dropped my things in the bedroom and went to the one place where my dark fantasy could be realized. Where the security guards would not be. The dungeon. In the basement, I pushed open the unlocked door to Richard’s playroom. As if he’d been expecting me, red nightlights on two walls cast long shadows of the X-rack and a coffin-sized cage. My eyes adjusted, an
A heavy-set man in a black suit opened the tall glass doors of Red Lace Escort Service for us. I recognized him as the man who—weeks earlier—handed me the titanium business card with Bohdi’s number. He pulled back his jacket and showed us his pistol. I followed Richard into the brightly lit office, where two other thugs were waiting. One stood near the office door with his automatic rifle in hand. One had been reclining on the fuchsia loveseat and when we walked in he sat up at attention, pointing his Uzi our way. I had left my Browning with Greg. Curbelo had outfitted us both with bullet-proof vests. The heavy armor made my breathing shallow. I wore the micro-transmitter—a necklace that looked like a tear-drop pendant—because Curbelo was afraid Richard would be frisked.“Ms. Robert,” the heavy man said. “’Dis way.” He pointed to the hall that lead to Angelique’s office but didn’t follow us. I understood now that the organization wanted me to represent Bohdi because they didn’t think
Fy scorched me inside. If Richard knew something about Roman’s disappearance, he’d have hell to pay. Once we arrived at Lake Forest, I flew around the house looking for him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was Grant. The empty black leather desk chair in his office faced the window as if watching for someone to return.Two at a time, I leapt up the stairs and opened the Kendo room door—hushed quiet. I exited quickly. Down the hall to my left, Richard’s stark bedroom. I swung the door wide and let it crash into the wall behind it. Benjamin Kyle stared back at me.“Richard?” I called.No answer. Frustrated and angry, I backed out of the room and right into Jonathan’s arms.“Thena. I—”“What the hell, Richard?” I backed away from him and faced him head on. “This is your fault!” I was furious. I was frightened. I was losing control.“I’m so sorry.” Richard didn’t say a word in his defense. He looked me in the eye. “I’m calling FBI Agent Curbelo now. We need to inform her.” Richard already h
I removed my suit jacket before climbing into the air-conditioned Mercedes. Disheartened, I sank into the leather seat and looked at my phone. I called Bohdi Michaels, and he picked up on the second ring.“Ms. Robert?”“I have a question for you.”Greg slid into the driver’s seat and started to put the car in gear. I held up my hand, asking him to wait till I finished. “Go ahead,” Michaels said.“I’ve just visited your psychiatrist—”“Oh, Jesus!”“—I need him as a character witness. So I asked him a few questions.” Bohdi’s reaction made me think he’d really opened up to his doctor. I suddenly worried what might be exposed if I put him on the stand.“Why him?”“Because Dr. Beaman is a respected professional who knows you well. Trust me, it’s a good call.”“Okay,” he softened. “I trust you.”“Slater would need a court order to have your records released. And I can see no reason your medical information would be necessary for this court hearing. But that doesn’t mean Slater won’t call f
Sticky sweat glued our bodies together. Satiated and basking in the incandescence, we moved slowly, unwilling to let go. I wanted to lie in his arms until Natasha’s threat and all that surrounded it disappeared. I could love Richard.When finally the source of summer heat sank beneath the horizon, I opened a window and let in a cooling breeze. Our stomachs growled. Richard and I sat up from my bed. His hand on my back. My fingers on his cheek. His lips on my shoulder. I donned panties and a t-shirt—still too hot to wear anything else. Richard slid into his slacks and hung his shirt to smooth the wrinkles. He took a call in the bathroom. When he exited wearing only his slacks, Richard said he checked in with Greg and Erik. The second shift bodyguards had arrived so they could get dinner. They would stand watch in the building lobby and the underground garage.“Let me cook for you,” he said.“I didn’t know you had the talent.”“There is much you still don’t know about me.”Truer words
The presence of the security team at Richard’s mansion reminded me of Travis King, the bodyguard who had attacked me, and how even they might be swayed to turn against us by the promise of power . . . or a deeper purse than Richard’s. They made me leery.For the rest of the day I worked in solitude on my laptop from the bedroom. Richard—busy with work and his own investigation—checked on me several times. Richard had a private team of analysts looking for ways to avoid giving Natasha the money. We discussed the limited options which included shipping me off to someplace remote and having the FBI make an arrest during the handoff. He seemed preoccupied but never too distracted to forget to kiss me or rub my shoulders. Every moment brought us closer together.I began to long for more time with him. His woodsy fragrance. His caress. It had been too long since we’d been intimate. With Bohdi Michaels’ trial weeks away, I looked deeper into terrorist groups and specifically the Russian maf