The Master Read online

  Sally glanced at her watch and frowned. “Why don’t we find another scene to watch first?”

  “Nah, I’ve seen enough.” Jodie scanned the room and stopped when her eyes rested on the shape of a very tall, scary-looking man. He had dom written all over him. Several floggers and whips hung off the belt wrapped around the waist of his tight leather trousers. That was always a good sign. She poked Sally. “Look at that guy over there. Do you know him?”

  Sally turned then shook her head. “No. Stay away from anyone you don’t know, Jodie. Seriously, he could be a nutter.”

  “Or he could be a shit-hot dom who knows how to get a girl into subspace.” Jodie strode toward him while trying to work out the most effective way to proposition him. She grinned. She knew exactly what would work. She wanted to be punished and what better way to antagonise a dom than to give him a good, hard swat on his ass? He had his back turned so she had a perfect target. This was too easy. She raised her hand… then someone grabbed it from behind and pulled her backwards.

  “Hey.” She turned to see who her assailant was then found herself staring up into the angry face of Dylan. Oh, crap!

  * * *

  The following morning, Jodie woke with another hangover. Not as bad as the one she’d suffered last week, but still enough for her head to pound as she stared around the unfamiliar surroundings. Where was she? She climbed out of bed and padded across the soft carpet then poked her head around the open door. She recognised the hallway straight away—she was in Dylan’s apartment. She must have slept in his guest bedroom. “Oh, God,” she groaned as last night’s antics came crashing back. This was the second time he’d caught her at Club Sin, only this time she’d had a lot more to drink and had been about to proposition some random dom. What had she been thinking? Or not—

  “Ah, you’re up.” Dylan’s voice made her jump.

  She turned toward the kitchen and spotted him leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest and looking worryingly stern. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him and it took all her willpower not to run into his arms. Instead, she smiled tentatively while trying to keep her thumping head as still as possible.

  “In the kitchen. Now.” Dylan stepped aside to let her through, still looking more than a little pissed off.

  On the breakfast bar were two mugs of steaming tea. She licked her dry lips as she eyed them with hope. Despite the fact that he must have been bloody furious with her, he had still made her tea. That had to be a good sign. She scrambled onto a stool, picked up the mug then took a grateful sip of the deliciously wet liquid.

  “Thank you,” she said meekly as he sat on the seat next to her. She raised her eyes to meet his, hoping to find some answers to some of the questions spinning through her head. Like the most obvious one… “Er, why were you at Club Sin last night?”

  Dylan glared at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d just asked him that. “More to the point, Jodie, why were you there?”

  She gave him a feeble grin. “I asked first.”

  He sighed and folded his arms again. “I was there to stop you from putting yourself in danger.”

  Jodie put her mug down on the counter, but didn’t let go of it. “But how did you know I was there?”

  “Sally texted me on your phone while you were in the toilet. She asked me to come and get you because she was worried. You’re lucky to have such a good friend.”

  “Yes, I am.” She clapped her hand to her mouth as she realised that Sally would have been left on her own after Dylan had marched her out of the club. “Oh, God, I have to check if she got home okay.”

  “Don’t worry. I dropped her off before bringing you here.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. Thank you.”

  He watched her in silence for a minute or two. Jodie couldn’t read his expression, except that he had many questions of his own. How the hell was she going to explain her behaviour last night when she didn’t even understand it herself?

  “Now, it’s my turn to ask you the same question. What were you doing at Club Sin last night?” There was an angry edge to his voice that made it perfectly clear she had gone too far this time.

  Jodie picked up the mug again and fiddled with the handle. She had to be honest—she owed him that at least. “I… er… I was looking for someone to spank me…”

  Dylan’s frown deepened. “Why?”

  “Why? Because you dumped me and I needed…”

  “I didn’t dump you.”

  Jodie couldn’t suppress a sarcastic snicker, but didn’t say anything.

  “We’ll come back to that later. So you decided to go clubbing, get drunk, and get a stranger to spank you three days before the most important competition of your life. Really?”

  Jodie shrugged. “Like I said, I needed someone to top me.” Even she could tell how lame she sounded. “I was stressed and thought the release might help.”

  “Why were you stressed, Jodie?”

  Oh, no, not again. She shrugged, but remained silent.

  Dylan scratched his stubble and gave her one of his intense, penetrating stares. “Talk to me. I might be able to help.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. “I can’t… I miss you.”

  “You see me every day,” Dylan said, his voice softening a little.

  “But it’s not the same.”

  He took her hand in his and squeezed it, still not taking his eyes off her. “Jodie, I only said I wanted to cool things until after the competition. I was concerned that our relationship was putting extra pressure on you. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. I’m still your dom and your boyfriend. Well, I hope I am. Maybe I got that wrong seeing as you’re so keen to find someone else to play with.”

  “No! I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I thought… I thought you didn’t want me.”

  Dylan chuckled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How can you even think that?”

  “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her temple, not sure if her spinning head was because of her hangover, or from Dylan’s revelation that she still wanted her.

  “You do realise that, when the nationals are over, you will be severely punished for both yesterday and last Sunday. Trust me, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

  Jodie nodded as happiness flooded her heart. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  “You might not be thanking me when I’ve finished with you. In the meantime, I want you to focus on your training until the competition is over then you need to think about what you want from our relationship. I expect you to be completely honest with me, Jodie. No secrets or it won’t work.”

  “I know. We’ll talk after the competition, I promise.”

  “Why not now?”

  Jodie shook her head. “That’s the best I can do. Please…”

  Dylan cupped her chin in his palm and stared into her eyes. For a minute, she thought he was going to persist, but then he nodded and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Okay. But our current arrangement still stands. No sex or kink until next week. Focus on the nationals and make sure you win.”

  “I will.” She made her mind up there and then that she would do everything she could to make sure she didn’t come into contact with George Hartwell before the competition. She would reject his calls and ignore any messages. If he had a problem with that, she would deal with the fallout afterward. Her priority was winning that damned competition, then she would worry about what she would tell Dylan.

  * * *

  Jodie and Dylan arrived in Sheffield late Tuesday afternoon. The senior matches weren’t until the following day, but they needed to register so they’d decided to drop by on the way to the hotel. The first person Jodie spotted as they entered the massive arena was Tanya. She was with Martha and her mother, who looked like she was fussing around her daughter the way she always did. Jodie said a silent prayer of thanks that her own parents only came to the big tournaments, like tomorrow’s national championship.

 
The closer Jodie got to Tanya, the more she dreaded coming face to face with her friend. She hadn’t seen her since her unforgivable behaviour over the water bottle, although she had texted Tanya to apologise. She tried to ignore the nervous butterflies swirling in her stomach. She wouldn’t blame Tanya if she refused to talk to her. But Tanya smiled when she saw Jodie then gave her a quick hug.

  “Tanya, I’m so sorry for what happened last time,” said Jodie as she searched her face for any sign of anger. There was none.

  “Don’t worry, it’s all forgotten. I know the kind of pressure you’re under what with having to keep your sponsors happy and stuff.”

  Jodie’s insides tightened, but she managed to maintain a cool exterior. To keep things light, she grinned and play-punched Tanya’s arm. “So, are you ready to take a beating tomorrow?”

  Tanya laughed. “Ha ha, you’d better watch it. I’ve been practising.”

  Tanya’s mother turned and smiled when she saw Jodie. “Hello, Jodie dear. Are you all set for the competition?”

  Jodie grinned. “Hi, Mrs. Monroe. You bet I am.”

  Martha looked up from her phone and nodded at Dylan. “Do you want to place your usual wager on which of our girls wins?”

  “Of course. There’s no contest.”

  Jodie stared at him in disbelief. “You place bets on us?”

  “Yep,” he replied, laughing.

  “How much?”

  “One pound.”

  “Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.” Jodie rolled her eyes and turned to chat some more with Tanya, but at that moment Mrs. Monroe let out a strangled squeak and covered her mouth with her hands. She went drip white and staggered back. Tanya caught her arm at the same time as Dylan grabbed the other one.

  “Mum? Are you okay?”

  Mrs. Monroe shook her head. “What’s he doing here? How did he find us?”

  Tanya was clearly bemused. “What are you talking about? Who?”

  Jodie scanned the rows of spectators, but saw nothing, no one amiss.

  “It was him, I know it. But how…? He promised…” Mrs. Monroe was still visibly shaken though her colour was returning. “I need to get out of here. Back to the hotel…”

  “Right, I’ll call a taxi.” Tanya started to dig her phone from her bag.

  “No need. My car’s outside,” offered Dylan. “You’ll be staying at the same place as we are?”

  “The Carleton, yes,” Tanya confirmed. They all tended to frequent the same hotels on the circuit. Half the competitors who had come from further afield would be booked into the Carleton overnight.

  Mrs. Monroe seemed to have recovered her composure by the time they arrived at the hotel, but she excused herself straight away and disappeared to her room with Tanya.

  “Do you fancy a bite to eat?” asked Dylan when it was just the two of them again.

  “Okay, thanks.” They chatted idly as they crossed the reception area then Jodie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She reached for it then froze when she saw George Hartwell’s number light up the screen. This was the third text he’d sent, but she’d refused to open them. She’d also had two missed calls from him since they arrived in Sheffield. Shit! She slipped her phone back in her pocket and followed Dylan to the restaurant. But she had lost her appetite. Her stomach was in knots—there was no way she would be able to eat anything now. She needed to be alone. She couldn’t risk Dylan noticing that something was wrong and, knowing him, he would spot it straight away.

  “Er, Dylan,” she said as they reached the stairs. “Would you mind if I go up to my room? I need a shower and an early night. I can always get room service if I get hungry later.”

  Dylan shrugged. “Okay, no problem. Are you okay?”

  She forced a bright smile onto her face. “Of course. I just need to get myself psyched up for tomorrow.”

  Dylan nodded, clearly satisfied with her explanation. “Get a good night’s rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Ten

  He waited in the lobby and watched her climb the first flight of stairs. To say she was an international athlete bidding for a place in Team GB, Jodie looked like absolute crap. She dragged her feet, her shoulders slumped. She looked old, tired. Worn out.

  Jesus, tomorrow’s going to be a fucking disaster.

  Should he pull her from the contest? It certainly looked as though all of this was killing her and as her coach he needed to look out for her wellbeing. If it was all too much…

  Dylan considered just heading back to his room and ordering up a burger from room service himself but decided against it. He wasn’t really in the mood for a carb and calorie overload. It was still early, and the hotel restaurant was quiet. They’d had some decent salads and pasta on the menu when he’d checked earlier. He’d just eat there, then maybe head for the bar where the Wi-Fi was better and run through some final stats before turning in.

  The salad was as good as he’d hoped. Despite his worries about Jodie, Dylan enjoyed his meal and ordered a coffee to follow. By the time he finished his coffee the restaurant was filling up, so he decided to move into the bar. He had his eye on a quiet corner close to the windows where he probably wouldn’t be disturbed and could concentrate on his laptop. He signed the bill, left a generous tip for the waitress, and headed back across the lobby.

  His preferred spot was free, a secluded alcove with a decent view of the gardens. He settled in and fired up his laptop. Soon Dylan was engrossed in the columns before him, the most up to date records of scores and rankings, both for Jodie and her main rivals. He calculated the minimum score Jodie would need to achieve in order to be a contender for the Tokyo team. It would be a challenge, especially in her present state, but not out of the question.

  Then he recalled her dejected, beaten look as she went up to her room, and seriously wondered if it was all worth it.

  He should talk to her. He needed to know she really was okay to go on with this.

  A sound behind him interrupted his musings. Someone had taken the seats in the adjacent alcove, though he couldn’t see them. As soon as they started to speak, though, he recognised the voices. It was Tanya Monroe and her mother. He wondered where Martha was. Probably doing the same as him, checking out the arithmetic. The Monroes hadn’t seen him, but he would pop his head around and say hello as he left and wish Tanya all the best for tomorrow.

  “So, what was all that about?”

  Dylan didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. Tanya’s voice carried clearly in the relative quiet of the near-deserted bar.

  “I don’t know what you mean?” Mrs. Monroe’s tone was defensive. She was lying. Dylan knew it, so did Tanya.

  “Don’t give me that. You went white as a ghost back there, in the arena. Who did you think you saw?”

  “I didn’t think. I know. It was him.”

  “Who?”

  “Your father, that’s who.”

  “What? George Hartwell?”

  Dylan paused, stunned, his fingers hovering over his keyboard.

  What did she just say? Did I hear that right?

  “Yes. Him.”

  “But you told me he moved abroad. The U.S., wasn’t it?”

  “That’s what I thought. I haven’t heard from him in years. I didn’t want to. You know why.”

  Dylan sat, silent, listening intently now. Did Tanya really mention George Hartwell by name? As her father?

  For fuck’s sake…

  Tanya’s voice reached him again, her tone hardening now. “Yes, I know why. I remember him, just vaguely. I certainly remember all the shouting that day, and you screaming at him to get out.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to witness that, experience any of it.” Mrs. Monroe sounded to be close to tears.

  “Mum, it’s okay. You did what you had to do, to protect me. I’ve always known that. George Hartwell was a vicious bully and he knocked seven bells out of you for years. You should have kicked him out sooner.”

  “I a
lways thought he’d change. He was usually drunk when he got violent. He’d sober up and apologise, promise never to lift a hand to me again. But then…”

  “Men like him never change. “

  “No, I suppose not, but at the time… It was the final straw when he hit you. You were only four and he’d just been passed over for promotion. I wasn’t having that. He was never getting another chance to take his vicious temper out on you. I told him I never wanted to see him again. And I haven’t. Until now.”

  “It’s been fourteen years. He must have changed in that time. How can you be so certain it was him?”

  “I’d know George Hartwell anywhere. It was him all right. But what I don’t understand is why? How did he know we’d be here?”

  “Perhaps it was a coincidence. Maybe he’s interested in taekwondo.”

  Mrs. Monroe gave an inelegant snort. “He never was before. I was married to that man for six years. As far as I can recall he never showed any interest in anything apart from making money and thumping me. Last I heard, he was working at an investment bank in New York.”

  “It’s a pity he didn’t stay there.”

  “Yes, but if he thinks that now he’s back in the UK I want anything to do with him, he’s wrong. I’d understand if you felt differently. After all, he’s your father…”

  “He’s nothing to me, Mum. I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

  “Are you sure? I mean—”

  “Oh, I’m sure. If George Hartwell comes anywhere near us I think I’d be tempted to demonstrate my roundhouse kick to his head. One of my finest moves…”

  Mrs. Monroe managed an amused chuckle. “I suggest you save that for the competition tomorrow.” She paused, then, “Look, do you mind if we skip that drink? I’m tired and I wouldn’t mind getting an early night. I’m still getting over the shock of seeing George and you’ve got a big day ahead.”

  “No problem. Let’s head on upstairs.”

  There was a scrape of chairs, a rustle of clothing as the two women got up to leave. Dylan remained out of sight until their footsteps faded, the ramifications of what he had just heard churning in his head.