Tell Me Page 3

  Anthea thanked her and headed for the lift. First impressions do count, and the outward face of Dart Logistics seemed pleasant enough, professional with just the right dash of welcoming to put visitors at their ease. Despite this, as she pressed the call button and waited for the car to arrive she wondered, not for the first time, why she was even bothering with this meeting. She had no intention of agreeing to a secondment here.

  The timing couldn’t be worse. Stephen’s plans for the future of Kershaw Storage were unpredictable, especially since he started dropping big hints about wanting to spend more time with his wife. But even without that complication, she wouldn't be interested. Anthea liked order, she craved certainty. A six month stint in a strange, ailing company, where she knew no one, where she would have to prove herself all over again to yet another sceptical and hostile audience? No thanks. Not for her.

  Not happening.

  The lift came to a smooth halt at the second floor and the doors glided open. Anthea stepped out to be greeted by another middle aged woman, but where the receptionist on the ground floor had oozed quiet calm, this individual crackled with nervous energy. Anthea half expected to feel a jolt of electricity shoot up her arm as the woman took her hand and shook it.

  “Mrs Richmond? So nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you already. I’m Isabel Barnard. I act as PA to Mr diMarco and I’ll be looking after you too, if you join us. Which we hope you will, obviously. This way please. Mr diMarco will see you straight away.”

  Anthea followed the woman’s bustling figure as she trotted off along the corridor, conscious she hadn’t managed to get even one word out. She’d hardly set foot in the place and already her fame seemed to be spreading. Was that a good thing?

  It hardly mattered. She wouldn't be joining this firm anyway, helping to prop up this Mr diMarco who seemed incapable of putting his own house in order. She was here out of loyalty to Stephen, nothing else. She was genuinely fond of her employer. He’d had confidence in her and was able to overlook her other shortcomings because she did a damn fine job. Still, she felt indebted to the elderly businessman who’d been able to see past the uptight, driven young woman asking him for a position in accounts. He set her on, and allowed her to hone her natural talents, encouraging her to assume more and more responsibility across all facets of his business. She’d amply repaid his confidence in her in the couple of years she’d worked for him, and in return she knew that Stephen valued her. He respected her. He understood her.

  Which was why she was so unnerved now at the prospect of his looming retirement. The next CEO would no doubt find her awkward and gauche. Everyone else seemed to. Her direct, tactless approach would get her into trouble as it always did before. It wasn’t that she ever intended to be rude, just that things came out wrong. Her career before Kershaw’s was littered with irritated or offended colleagues, complaints, grievances. She dreaded the thought of starting all over with a new boss.

  There was an alternative, but that was probably even worse. Stephen had dropped a few hints, and she’d managed to deflect him. Then he’d come right out with it. He wanted her to take over as CEO when he retired. He’d suggested she accept promotion to the role of deputy CEO now, with a view to stepping up in due course. Better still, he’d like her to buy the company and had assured her she’d have no trouble at all raising the cash. Anthea knew that wouldn’t be an issue, she could dazzle the company bank manager with her talk of cash flows and revenue projections, and could back all that up with rock solid evidence. They’d be offering her loans until the cash came out of her ears.

  Anthea dreaded all of that. She harboured no desire at all to have the top job, to be the one in the public eye, the one who had to deal with their employees face to face, the media, prospective clients. It wasn’t that she was without ambition or shunned recognition. She craved all that, had worked hard to build her career and was proud of what she’d achieved. But she was at home with her spreadsheets, her laptop, her policies and procedures. The company ran like a well-oiled machine under her expert control, she loved the quiet, predictable order of it all and knew it was her doing. But the cut and thrust, the chaos of leadership, of scanning the horizon for new opportunities, recognising a chance when she saw it and grabbing it with both hands—that was not for her.

  “We’re just through here, please.” Ms Barnard opened a door and gestured Anthea to go in. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

  “Thank you. Just a glass of water please.” Anthea stepped into the outer office which seemed to be Ms Barnard’s domain. Another door at the far end of the room stood ajar.

  “Just go straight in. He’s expecting you.”

  Anthea nodded, crossed the office and pushed the second door wide. She entered, a manufactured smile plastered to her face.

  The blood drained from her features as the man behind the desk rose to greet her.

  “Tony!”

  “Mrs Richmond.” His slow smile of recognition transformed to one of incredulity, then amusement. He came around the desk toward her, hand outstretched. “How nice to meet you at last. Do please have a seat.”

  Anthea was rooted to the spot. She stared at him, this man she knew so well, who knew her intimately, this man who was familiar with every contour and hollow of her body, every nerve and muscle. This man who could bring her shuddering to orgasm with just a few precise strokes of his fingers, or drive her to scream her safe word with a twist of his hand.

  This man who was her fantasy. Her other world. This man who unleashed her secret self and brought her the relief that kept her sane. He was here, where he had absolutely no business being at all, in her safe, ordered real world.

  He would expose her. She’d be humiliated, her carefully constructed fledgling career in ruins.

  How had this happened? She’d been so careful, taken no risks, but still…

  “Anthea? Thea? Sit, please.” His voice was soft but strong, commanding. So him.

  Wordless, she sank into a chair at a small meeting table, her mind whirling, desperate to make sense of this turn of events. Tony sat down opposite her.

  Moments later Ms Barnard hustled in with a tray bearing a jug of iced water and two glasses. She set that down on the table. If she was conscious of the tension in the room she offered no comment. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Isabel.” Tony reached for the jug and filled a glass. He pushed it towards Anthea. “Here. You’ve had a shock. Take a few sips.”

  Anthea obeyed, on autopilot now. Something in his voice just brought out that response in her, regardless of the circumstances. In moments she drained the glass, which was refilled straight away. She drank again, then set the remaining water down.

  “How did you find me?” Her voice was small, barely a whisper. She experienced a peculiar, detached sense of surprise at how at odds her tone was with her attire. When she dressed for work she was strong, sure, in control and utterly confident. But what came out of her mouth now was her submissive voice, her Wicked Club tone, the one reserved for a different set of circumstances entirely.

  “I didn’t. At least, not intentionally. I had no idea that Stephen’s efficient Mrs Richmond and my gorgeous and sexy Thea were one and the same.”

  “They’re not.”

  “No?”

  “No! I don’t, I mean, that’s different, at the club. That’s not the real me.”

  “You look pretty real from where I’m sitting.”

  “Please, can't we just forget about this? I’ll go and, and… you don’t have to see me again. You can't tell anyone. The club rules say we have to respect privacy. I won't reveal any details, and you mustn’t either.”

  “Whoa, hold it. Why all the fuss? Of course I won’t be discussing your—our—private relationship with anyone else. And I certainly hope I will see you again. I hope to see a lot more of you in fact.”

  “No. That wouldn’t do, not at all. I need to keep
things private and now, now we…”

  “Thea, calm down. This is me, remember. Tony. Your Dom. You can trust me, you know that.”

  “No, I mean yes. There I do, at the club. But here, I… it won't work. Not at all. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Anthea leapt to her feet, grabbing her satchel from the floor beside her chair. Tony remained seated, made no attempt to delay her.

  If Isabel Barnard was surprised that her meeting with Tony diMarco had been such a brief affair, again she gave no sign of it as Anthea charged through the secretary’s office looking for all the world as though the flames of Hell were at her heels. The door slammed shut behind her as she broke into a run, heading for the door, the outside.

  Safety.

  Chapter Three

  Tony charged across his office in pursuit, then winced at the sound of the outer door shuddering on its hinges. He thought better of chasing Thea through the building and instead strolled as far as Isabel’s room. His loyal secretary turned to her boss, leaning against the frame of his office door.

  “Went well, then?” Her dry tone caused his eyebrow to lift. “Would you like me to arrange that meeting with my contact now?

  “Could have been worse, I daresay.” He levelled a look at her, his determination solidifying. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not done with Mrs Richmond yet. It just looks like the negotiations are going to be a little more complex than I thought.”

  Isabel made a sound which he thought might have been a snort, but he chose not to pursue that now. He needed to think.

  Back at his desk Tony poured himself a glass of water and turned over the events of the last few minutes in his mind. So, Stephen Kershaw’s Anthea Richmond and his own beautiful little sub were one and the same woman. Interesting, and unexpected. She was running now, from him and he suspected from herself too. He wasn’t about to let her go, but the situation was fragile to say the least. How best to reel her back in?

  He sipped his water and considered the problem, assimilating what he knew about the enigmatic Mrs Richmond.

  Mrs? He was as sure as he could be that she wasn’t married, but the lady was turning out to be full of surprises. He would have to check.

  He cast his mind back to the first time he spotted the beautiful submissive hovering on the fringes of the action in The Wicked Club dungeon. She had been alone that evening, no collar indicating any prior claim, and that surprised him. It was his first visit to the club as he’d only lived in the city for a few weeks, and he could only conclude that the regular Doms in the area were either blind or stupid. Still, their loss. He made a beeline for her and invited her to join him for a drink.

  She was enchanting. Intelligent, soft spoken, her submissive mannerisms had his cock standing to attention within seconds. He hoped she hadn’t noticed, but couldn’t be sure. In the end it didn’t matter, they were both here for the same thing, and when she agreed to scene with him that first night he was determined to impress her.

  It was just a spanking, but he knew it brought her right to the edge. She didn’t ask him to stop, but he was experienced enough to know when she’d had enough. Her bottom was glowing in various shades of crimson and red, heat radiating from her buttocks as he caressed them with his palm. He had leaned over her inert, shivering body and asked her if he could touch her. She had nodded, but he wanted, needed more than that in the way of consent.

  “Speak to me, Thea. Tell me.”

  “Touch me, Sir. Please. I want to come.” Her voice had been breathy, laced with need and arousal. He required no further encouragement.

  He had slipped his fingers beneath the scrap of lace which passed as a thong and found her slick folds. He stroked her, opening her as she gasped her delight. Tony normally preferred to make his subs wait, he liked them to earn their orgasms, but not on this occasion. He wanted to please this lovely little sub and he knew she craved this. He slid two fingers into her hot, wet pussy, and she started to convulse. He added a third finger, and knew the instant he located her G spot. Her body jerked violently and she squeezed hard as her inner walls contracted. She was close, almost there. He rubbed, murmured something obscene into her ear, and she came.

  Afterwards she lay still, a half smile on her lovely lips. It was an intimate moment, and Tony brushed his mouth over hers. She opened her eyes, beamed at him.

  “Thank you, Sir. That was perfect.”

  In Tony’s view it was Thea who was perfect. He’d thought so then, and nothing that had happened between them since had altered that opinion. He wanted her, now more than ever. All of her. The question was, how?

  *****

  Tony sipped his iced water and checked his watch for the third time. Twenty past ten, and still no sign of Thea. She had never been late before, she knew that would be disrespectful and her Dom would not tolerate it. Although Tony knew full well that their encounter in his office two days earlier would have changed everything in Thea’s thinking, certainly her frantic reaction gave that impression, their previously agreed arrangement still stood as far as he was concerned. Neither of them had texted the other to change or cancel it. She should be here.

  He waited another ten minutes before pulling out his phone and tapping in a curt text.

  Where are you, sub?

  He hit send, then laid the phone on the low table in front of him as he waited for her response. She didn’t keep him waiting long.

  You knew I wasn’t coming. I told you it was over.

  He waited a further fifteen minutes before typing his reply.

  You left halfway through our conversation. This is not over. I want to talk to you. You should be here.

  The reply was almost instant.

  I apologise, Sir. But I can't. Not any more. I’m sorry

  Tony waited just couple of minutes before sending his response.

  Phone me. Now.

  Five minutes passed. He rapped his finger tips on the table, his concern growing. Thea was a spirited sub, she took careful handling, but she was usually obedient. She certainly understood the concept of ‘now’ and would be under no illusion what that meant. It didn't mean take your time and phone me when you get around to it. He needed to bring her back into line, and he knew her well enough to be aware that her head would be all over the place by now. She had defied him, whether intentionally or not. She was doing it still, and she’d be in knots over it.

  The phone rang after eleven minutes.

  “Hello, Thea. You took your time.”

  “I know, Sir. I’m sorry. I just, I needed to think, to work out what I have to say.”

  “I see. And what do you have to say, Thea?”

  “I should have let you know I wasn’t going to be there tonight. I assumed you’d realise, after what happened, and I, I…”

  “Tell me, Thea.”

  “I didn't want to make contact with you.”

  “Why’s that, Thea?”

  “You scare me.”

  Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and Tony knew he had to reach her. He was also reasonably certain that it was the circumstances that had frightened her, not him. Thea viewed him with healthy respect which had built over the months they’d scened together. It was the cornerstone of their D/s relationship, and in turn he cherished her trust. She wasn’t scared of him, but he could easily see that in her current confusion she might think this.

  “I want to see you. Now.”

  “But, it’s late. I’m not dressed. And, I don't want to go to the club.”

  He noted with satisfaction that she was querying the details, but not refusing to see him. “Where do you live, Thea?”

  “I, I prefer not to say, Sir.”

  “Okay. I’m going to text you my home address. I want you to text me straight back and tell me how long it will take you to get there.”

  “You want me to come to your house? Tonight?”

  “I do. Now. No getting dressed, just come as you are. Immediately. Any que
stions?”

  There was a slight pause, then. “No, Sir. Text me the details please.”

  *****

  Tony opened the door as soon as he heard the tyres crunching across the gravel in his driveway. He watched from his porch as Thea got out of her car and gazed up at him. The four steps leading up to his door helped to create the right air of authority and he watched dispassionately as she approached him.

  Her long, dark hair was loose, falling in unrestrained waves around her shoulders. Her calf-length raincoat covered her entirely. She wore flat sandals on her feet, completely at odds with her usual spiky-heeled footwear. He knew her to be almost thirty, but tonight she looked very young, and more than a little lost. Her eyes were rimmed in red, a sign she’d been crying on the way over here. Tony cursed himself. He should have insisted she tell him her address, then he could have sent a cab for her.

  “Sir? I got her as quickly as I could, but there are road works…”

  “That‘s fine. You’re not late. Come inside.” He gentled his tone on purpose, seeking to reassure her. This new twist to their usual arrangement would be unnerving enough for Thea at any time, but given her present state of insecurity and ambivalence toward him he sensed he had to proceed with care. These first moments would be crucial.

  He waited as she mounted the steps, then shifted to one side to allow her to walk past him into his house.

  “First on the right.” He directed her into his dining room. The solid ash table in the centre of the room was bare except for the rattan cane he had placed there earlier, and the leather collar he always insisted she wore when they met at the club. He was well aware these would be the things she would spot the moment she entered and their significance would not be lost on her.