Hostile Takeover by Hill, W (best novels to read for students .TXT) 📕

places, classy clubs. Then when I was in New York, Lucas’ friend, Marcus Stanton, took me fairly often. He went as a chaperone,” she added. “He’s a great Master, but he’s utterly devoted to Thomas. I got to watch them have a session, hand him things. I’m not stupid, Ben.”

His jaw eased a fraction. “No, but you’re reckless as hell.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. What do you call that death trap you drive?”

“A high-performance driving machine, an engineering piece of art.”

“An expensive metal phallus.” She snorted. He was still holding her wrist, playing with her fingers, and it was extremely distracting. She hoped he never stopped. “So are you going to take me to a club?”

“Nag, nag, nag.” He sighed, sat back.

“As my mentor,” she persisted. “You can show me how the deeper stuff works. We’re already…I mean, I could go as your sub-in-training. You could help me.”

Ben regarded her with those sharp green eyes. “Marcie, do you think you can con me?”

“No.”

Just that steady look, an unspoken correction, and butterflies swarmed. “No, sir.”

He inclined his head. “I’m willing to give you a short mentoring period. If you’re using it to get something more from me, you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. I’ve no intention of taking things beyond that.”

“Why not?” She met that stare dead on now. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“I’m not looking for that. Not with you.”

In her lap, her hands curled into fists. “Ben, do you think you can con me?”

He leaned forward. Something dark moved in his expression, something more than a little bit scary, but there were things that scared her far worse than pissing Ben off.

“Do I have to rip your fucking heart from your chest to prove my point, Marcie? Do I have to break you?”

“You can’t. You won’t. Give it your best shot.” He could probably hear the rabbit thumping of her heart, but she’d have a full-scale cardiac arrest before she’d back down. “It’s all bullshit,” she said quietly. “Everyone’s looking for that. You’d walk through Hell for me, for Cassandra, for every member of your family. But I’m not the one afraid of surrendering myself fully. You are.”

That darkness became something full blown, something ugly, lonely and violent. Then it was gone, the smooth lawyer back in place. It was a startling transformation, one that made her more uncomfortable than she wanted to admit.

He sat back now, picked up his beer. “We’ll see about that,” he said casually. “Because if you want me to mentor you, full surrender is what I’m going to demand. As well as full honesty. How did you know how to do what you did last night? You weren’t new to it.” Something deadly entered his gaze again, only this time it had an erotic edge to it. “Who taught you to take a dick that size down your throat, in your ass?”

Thank God they were in a quiet corner. He’d spoken in a low voice, but some words just had a way of carrying. She kept her gaze fastened on his, sure she’d be mortified into speechlessness if any heads turned.

“There was no who, not exactly. I went to chat rooms, asked questions. Talked to Thomas because…” She stopped. She was pretty forward, but she wasn’t sure she could finish that statement.

“Because when you were in the club you noticed Marcus is pretty good sized.”

“Yes.” She pressed her lips into a line. “I also talked to Dana.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Dana…she’s seen you. I mean, not seen you, since she’s blind, but her tactile senses…”

Despite Ben’s black cloud expression, she suddenly had to fight against a laugh, remembering some of Dana’s more colorful descriptions. “Before that, I eavesdropped a lot. All of them—Dana, Rachel, Cass and Savannah—have been meeting for third Sunday tea at Cassandra’s house since they came into your lives.”

Her cheeks colored. “So I practiced. Mostly on inanimate objects.”

Maybe it was best if he didn’t ask further questions. If CSI had seen the back of her dorm closet they would have profiled her as a full-blown stalker. That was where she hid all her notes, pictures, articles and other data on him—particularly those letters. She’d run copies of them so she could make notes, underline certain parts. Yeah, that would seem a little stalker-crazy.

Except she knew her prey. If she wanted him, she had to come prepared. He was the first investigation she’d ever undertaken, and the longest she’d pursued. She knew how wrong it was, a submissive stalking a Master, but she hadn’t known how else to go about it.

If she could crack Ben O’Callahan, get him to claim her for his own, everything else would be a cinch. She could uncover secrets that would bring down governments. Or build new ones.

He could look at her like she was a stalker—which was sort of what he was doing now—but she knew she wasn’t. The letters gave her confidence, the full picture. At a key point, she’d known she had his heart, no matter that he was trying to convince her that its weight in her hands was an illusion.

“You’ll stay at my Garden District place tonight,” he said, startling her. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow. We’ll spend the day preparing you, then we’ll go to Progeny in the evening. And that’s it.”

Her mind raced over the possibilities. She couldn’t believe he’d agreed to the club, let alone an overnight at his house. “You want me to stay with you?”

“Don’t read too much into it,” he said bluntly. “I’ve decided you can’t be trusted on your own until this is resolved.”

That pricked her ire a little, but she pushed it down. “I think I can probably handle one night at your place,” she said lightly.

In point of fact, she could cartwheel from Royal Street all the way to his house. Or, more appropriately, walk on her knees…if he required that.

* * * * *

They returned to work and finished out the day, though Ben made her use that pillow