There was that ridiculous assertion again. Just like Bocelli, Thorpe didn’t know her at all.
“Mr. Thorpe, my nature isn’t up for discussion. I’m here to learn whatever I need to fake it and rescue Agent Miles.”
“‘Faking it’ probably got Agent Miles captured. A Dom worth his salt can dig out a sub’s true desires quickly. If she’s not genuine about embracing her need to please her Master, he’ll know. If you truly want to help your fellow agent, focus on finding the true sub within you.”
His words wrapped around her neck like a vise grip and choked. Her stepfather had always called her a pleaser, which was why she’d allowed Logan to take advantage of her. Of course she liked the idea of a man who knew her, body and soul, and fulfilled every dark fantasy. Nor could she deny having a bondage fantasy or two. But that hardly made her submissive. The thought of giving up her free will entirely to another . . . Tara shuddered inwardly. Hell no.
Still, being here at Dominion was about the friend she’d gone to college with, first gotten drunk with, shared holidays, beauty tips, illness, and breakups with. It had nothing to do with Logan.
“I will do my best to embrace the role. I will work harder to internalize whatever I must before going undercover. But please, I’m asking you to find anyone else but Mr. Edgington.”
Thorpe sat on the edge of the desk, hovering. No doubt, he knew that the way he towered over her discomfited her. “A pretty plea . . . but no. First, I won’t let you top from the bottom.”
“I am not manipulating a Dom to get my way.”
At that, he sent her a sly, white grin. “You are—and if you were mine, I’d paddle you for that lie. In fact, your stubbornness is one reason Agent York isn’t progressing. He’s placating you instead of getting his act together. Second, Logan is the best at training subs who need, shall we say, an attitude adjustment. He’s patient, logical, and unyielding. You, Agent Jacobs, need a firm hand. He’ll give it to you, make no mistake.”
Bastard! “You’re dragging out this training unnecessarily. Instead of simply getting comfortable with the lifestyle, you’re forcing me to deal with a Dom I will never trust. How is that helpful?”
“Your employer paid me handsomely to prepare you for an urgent mission. Everything I have done is to prepare you, including taking away your choices. You have to get used to that since a submissive may only say yes or quit. That’s what you haven’t gotten through your head yet. The contract states that I’m able, within legal bounds, to use my discretion and do whatever necessary to ensure your readiness. That’s what I’m going to do. Or do you wish to quit before truly trying?”
Low blow. Tara refused to give up on Darcy, and Thorpe knew it. She fought to hold down an angry flush. “No.”
He raised a dark brow. He wanted a “Sir” out of her, damn him. But giving it would prove to him that she understood protocol—and could embrace it.
And if she wanted another Dom, she needed to play his game.
“No, Sir,” she murmured. “But—”
“That was slow and insincere. Your manners need work, Agent Jacobs. Logan may make you uncomfortable, but I believe he will be effective. I’ve watched you with Axel this week. I saw from the observation room when you first realized that Logan had come for you. Your reaction was ...very enlightening.” He prowled around to the edge of his desk again. “For the first time since you stepped in this door, you snapped to attention and listened. I’ll bet he made you wet. There’s a reason a sweet sub like you denies her nature, and Logan will get to the bottom of that. Besides, if you truly are unable to trust him ever again, this will be good training for your mission. You’ll never trust an international slave dealer who wants you to kneel at his feet so he can sell you to the highest bidder. Pretending obedience will do you good.”
“But wouldn’t it take less time to prepare me if—”
“You are not without recourse,” Thorpe broke in. “You will be monitored, for safety’s sake. If Logan genuinely pushes you past what’s bearable or forces any act on you, you always have your safe word. Should you truly need to use it, we’ll discuss your options then.” He rose from the desk and opened his door. “Good-bye.”
Tara rose to her feet stiffly. The bastard thought he had this all figured out. Fine. If he wasn’t going to believe her, there was no sense wasting more time arguing. Giving one hundred percent to her mission and rescuing Darcy was the priority. Thorpe had all but told her the way out of this nonsense. Now all she needed was an opportunity.
Whirling to face the club’s owner, she opened her mouth—and closed it when she saw they were no longer alone. Logan leaned against the doorjamb, staring at her with a dissecting blue gaze that promised punishment. Against her will, her womb clenched.
“C’mon, Cherry. Apparently, I need to start with that spanking, after all. Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
TARA swallowed. Her heart fell to her knees as Logan stepped aside just enough for her to exit Thorpe’s office. She didn’t look his way as she turned down the hall. Even without seeing the harsh angles of Logan’s face, she felt his heat and leashed anger simmering behind her. He was furious that she’d tried to have him replaced. Why the hell did he care? He’d cast her aside twelve years ago. Yes, he’d been reeling after his mother’s murder, and she would have excused anger or aloofness. But not his cruelty. What the hell did he want now? The sick thrill of hurting her again? She’d be damned if she let him, because she—and more important, Darcy—didn’t need Logan’s head games.
But she couldn’t deny that rankling his Edgington pride had given her a thrill.
Logan steered her with a light touch at the small of her back, his fingertips like a brand as he guided her down the long hallway that led to more shadowy rooms with equipment that shocked her—and jolted her with a shameful hot spark. Tara hated that, almost as much as she wanted to hate his touch.
“We’re going to be spending a lot of time in my dungeon, Cherry.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.
“While you’re training, you have no control over what I call you, what you do, or what you wear. Your only choices are to obey or quit.”
Immediately, Tara got his game. “And you’re going to push in every way possible to induce me to throw in the towel, aren’t you?”
He raised an intimidating brow, but said nothing.
Bastard. Clearly he didn’t know how much spine she’d grown since high school. Yet.
“You think I can’t handle it.”