She raised her gaze to meet Damon’s furious one. His eyes were nearly black, and anger tightened his lips.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
His words lashed over her, igniting her own helpless anger.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she snapped. “Our agreement is for when I’m here.”
He reached out and cupped her shoulder, yanking her inside the house. The door slammed behind her, and she winced.
“This has nothing, nothing to do with any agreement,” he bit out. “It has to do with common decency. I was worried, Serena. I thought you might be on the side of the road somewhere, hurt and alone. Or in the hospital. Or in the fucking morgue.”
She flinched at the raw edge in his voice. There was more than anger. There was true concern and frustration.
“You wouldn’t answer your goddamn phone. I even sent Sam to your office and then your home and then back here so he could trace your possible route.”
She closed her eyes against his censure because he was right. She’d been an irresponsible twit all because she didn’t have a goddamn spine.
“I’m sorry,” she said tiredly.
He held up his hand. His jaw ticked like he was trying to hang on to his temper.
“What happened?” he asked bluntly. “Where have you been and are you all right?”
This was one time when she wished she’d actually been in some sort of an accident just so she didn’t have to tell him she’d been hiding. From him. From herself. From this combustible attraction between them.
“I was thinking.”
“Thinking? You were thinking? And in all this thinking, it never crossed your mind that I might be worried, that you at least owed me the courtesy of a phone call to say you’d be late? Not as your master, Serena. Not as some guy who considers you a slave, but as someone who cares about you.”
She closed her eyes as fatigue centered between her shoulders. When she opened them again, Damon was dragging a hand through his hair in a supreme gesture of agitation.
“Go and change into the clothes I’ve laid out for you,” he said in a controlled voice. “Then return to the living room. We have guests.”
He stared her down as if waiting for the word to cross her lips. He was forcing her into the decision she’d been wavering on the entire day. If she said no, she’d leave, and she wouldn’t be back. If she did his bidding, she was committing to staying, to continuing the farce.
Neither option seemed attractive to her right now. What she really wanted was to be alone, and she could be alone if she just said no.
Instead, she nodded and walked past Damon toward the bedroom. He didn’t touch her, didn’t hold her back or say anything further. When she looked back as she entered the hallway, he’d already left the foyer.
She continued up the stairs, her fatigue and confusion growing with each step. When she got to the bedroom, she saw that Damon had laid out one of the exquisite dresses he’d purchased for her along with a matching black bra and panties, silk stockings and a pair of expensive heels. There was even jewelry to accompany the sophisticated look.
As she continued to stare at the clothing, she had a swift realization. Tonight she wasn’t his slave. He was inviting her into his world. His real world, where he expected her to mingle with his guests. Normalcy. A step out of the roles they played, and yet, they only existed in the realm of her fantasy. A world she had created.
He was making it real. Fear raced up her spine. Fear and uncertainty. He was changing the rules and the parameters. How could he expect her to embrace his reality and then turn away? God, she didn’t need it to be more real between her and Damon. If anything she needed the protection that fantasy and escapism offered. There was no chance of her losing her way when things weren’t in reach.
But to expect her to interact with him as if they had a chance, as if things were normal . . . it was the height of cruelty.
Her head spun as panic and distress tightened every muscle. She couldn’t attend as his date, some woman he had a relationship with. No, if she attended, it would be as his slave. There would be no breaching the walls of her carefully constructed fantasy.
CHAPTER 29
Damon returned to the living room after taking several moments to collect himself. He’d been distracted the entire time he was entertaining his guests because he’d been worried about Serena. There were only so many times he could excuse himself to use his cell phone before it went from an inconvenience to outright rudeness.
When he’d heard her drive up, his relief had made him weak in the knees. That pissed him off almost as much as her thoughtlessness. And then he’d seen her pale face and enormous blue eyes, seen the fatigue lurking in the shadows. She’d said the words every man dreaded hearing. She’d been thinking.
He’d worried about her first day outside the fantasy they’d built in the week they’d been together, and rightly so. She’d already started pulling away, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
He tuned in to the conversation as two of the waiters he’d hired for the evening made rounds with trays of hors d’oeuvres and wine. The piano music, usually something he enjoyed, tinkled like broken glass on his nerves.
Part of him wanted to punish Serena for the worry she’d caused him. For a moment he’d considered telling her to undress and come to him nude with only the jewelry he’d given her adorning her skin. None of his guests would be shocked or surprised.
But he wouldn’t embarrass her, had sworn that he’d never do anything to purposely humiliate her, and he damn sure wasn’t into retaliation.
No, he’d deal with her punishment later. If she balked, if she said no, then it would end sooner than expected but the result would be the same whether now or three weeks from now. He couldn’t keep her forever, and the haunted look on her face when she came to his door further drove that point home.
A chuckle echoed over the room, and Damon looked up to see the source of his guest’s amusement. He stiffened when he saw Serena standing in the doorway, not a stitch of clothing on her gorgeous body.
She stared defiantly at him, her eyes glittering with challenge. Not responding to the obvious bait, he set his glass of wine aside and ignored her for a moment while he finished the conversation he was involved in.
He kept tabs on her from the corner of his eye. She stood quietly, but the longer she stood, the more ill at ease she became. When he was convinced she was about to turn and walk back out, he started across the room, his pace unhurried, his expression purposely unreadable.