His Submissive (Fifteen Volume Box Set) Page 20

  Could he have made the call? But why would he do that? Just because he was crazy and liked to toy with people? Was it possible maybe he wanted me off the case, that he thought if he could somehow get rid of me, he’d be able to slide in and take over, be the point person for Professor Worthington? That wouldn’t make any sense. Josh knew Noah hated him, knew Noah would never stand for that.

  But still. Was that why Josh had told me he didn’t think Noah was guilty? So it would put the idea in my mind and he could send me on some wild goose chase?

  The search results popped into view a second later, and it became instantly clear I’d had nothing to worry about. There were pages and pages of results for Audi James – articles and websites and pictures and anything else you could think of.

  Because Audi James was a murderer.

  I scrolled through, scanning the headlines with my eyes.

  “AUDI JAMES ARRESTED FOR MURDER OF UPPER EAST SIDE SOCIALITE”

  “WOMAN FOUND MURDERED IN PENTHOUSE APARTMENT”

  “AUDI JAMES FOUND NOT GUILTY IN MURDER CASE”

  I sucked in a breath as I clicked on the Wikipedia page.

  I read the article quickly, taking in the specifics of the case, trying to turn on my lawyer brain and distill, the way they’d taught us in law school, trying to focus in on the details that might be important, instead of the minutia of the case.

  I got the gist of it pretty quickly – Audi James had been arrested for the murder of Rhonda Callahan, a wealthy socialite, in her Upper East Side apartment. Rhonda Callahan was married, but had been rumored to be having an affair with James. The prosecution contended that the two of them had been involved in a bunch of scandalous sex games – BDSM, swinger’s clubs, online sex shows, the works. The DA’s office painted Audi James as a psychopath, the worst kind of sex predator, the kind of man who forced women into playing these sex games, tortured them mercilessly and then hurt or killed them.

  The parallels between his case and Noah’s were almost shocking. There had been other women Audi had been involved with, other women who’d ended up missing or murdered. But there had never been enough evidence to arrest him.

  They’d finally gotten him with Rhonda Callahan. Audi had been spotted in her apartment building moments before she was killed. His DNA was all over the scene, and the knife he’d used to kill her was left in the bedroom with his fingerprints on it.

  The prosecution painted a picture of a sex game gone wrong. They claimed the sex had started out as consensual, but that Audi had pushed it too far, that he’d kept going, tying Rhonda up and raping her for hours, even after she told him to stop.

  Audi admitted that he’d killed Rhonda. But he claimed it had been in self-defense. He said he’d gone to her apartment to break up with her, that they’d had sex before he told her he wanted to end things. They’d participated in their rough sex games that night, but Rhonda liked it, had pushed for it, had insisted it was the kind of sex she wanted.

  When it was over, Audi claimed, he told her he didn’t want to see her anymore. He said Rhonda lost it, ranting and raving before coming after him with a knife, which he’d then used to kill her.

  It was a crazy story that stretched the edges of believability. Audi was a big man, and to think that he needed to stab Rhonda twenty-one times in self-defense was really beyond incredulity.

  But he’d gotten off.

  The man next to me shifted on his seat, his leg pushing into mine and interrupting my thoughts.

  “Sorry,” he said, giving me a smile. He held out the bag of popcorn. “Want some?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He was dressed in a pair of khakis and a white dress shirt, obviously on his way to work. I had no idea why he would be eating cheese popcorn for breakfast, but his fingers were turning orange and it was making me nervous. He was going to get a stain all over his crisp white shirt.

  He leaned over and glanced at my screen. “Audi James, huh?” he said. “That shit was crazy.”

  “You know the case?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m kind of a trial junkie. I watch them on livestreams, that kind of thing. You?”

  “I’m a law student.”

  “Oh, nice,” he said. “You doing some kind of report or something?”

  “Or something,” I said. I gave him a polite smile, but I didn’t really feel like making small talk with a stranger. I had too much other stuff on my mind.

  “That case was crazy,” the guy said, obviously not getting the hint. He munched on his popcorn and shook his head, remembering. “That guy was guilty as all hell. It was so obvious to everyone. But his attorney, man, he was something.” He frowned, a deep V appearing in between his eyes as he tried to remember. “What was that guy’s name? He was the reason Audi James got off. No one else could have done that. Guy’s a legend.”

  My heart pounded in my chest and the blood rushed through my ears.

  I knew who had defended Audi James before I even looked back down at the Wikipedia page.

  But I did anyway, just to see it there in black and white.

  Audi James had been defended by Noah Cutler.

  I couldn’t concentrate.

  All during class, my mind was a million miles away. When it was over, I had no idea what had been discussed. I was dimly aware of taking notes, but if you asked me what they were on, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.

  When class was finished, I walked across campus to the library, where I pulled out my laptop and typed up an email to Professor Worthington summarizing what I’d learned from Noah this morning. It wasn’t much, and I tried to pad the email without making it obvious that’s what I was doing. My fear was that if I didn’t get enough information from Noah, or prove myself to be helpful in some way, I was going to be taken off the case.

  The fact that Noah was refusing to talk to anyone but me was only going to hold weight for so long. Eventually Professor Worthington was going to get sick of Noah’s antics. He’d been patient with Noah so far, because it was a high profile case that would lead to a ton of publicity. But Noah was sabotaging himself, and Professor Worthington wasn’t going to stay on a case he felt he had no chance of winning.

  When I was done at the library, I packed up my things and walked outside.

  Noah’s sleek black car was parked right in front of the building. Jared, Noah’s driver, was standing next to the passenger side door, his hands carefully folded in front of him.

  I knew what he was doing – he was waiting for me, making sure I didn’t try to pull anything tricky like taking the subway. I was sure Noah had sent him here, had told him to park right in front and wait for me. I wondered how Jared had managed to get the parking spot right in front of the main library. I decided it was probably best if I didn’t know.

  I sighed and walked over.

  “Hi, Jared,” I said as he opened the door for me.

  “Hello, Charlotte,” he said, and tipped his cap.

  “Did I get you in trouble?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, with a glint in his eye.

  “I’m sorry, Jared,” I said. “I’ll make it clear to him it wasn’t your fault.”

  He nodded, but there was a slight smile on his face. He knew it wouldn’t matter that much, and he also knew that Noah wouldn’t really hold him responsible.

  I settled into the backseat and stared out the window as the car moved through the city streets. I thought about asking Jared if he remembered Noah during the Audi James trial, if there was anything different about him, if Jared had picked up on anything significant.

  But to do that would be putting Jared in an awkward position, not to mention crossing a line. I shouldn’t have to sneak around being Noah’s back, asking questions of the people who worked for him. If I wanted to know something about Noah and Audi James, I would have to ask him.

  I was out of the car and back inside Noah’s apartment when I realized I still had nothing to wear to Force. I
’d been out of place at the last club we’d gone to – the women there had been dressed to the nines in designer clothes and elegant dresses. I’d worn a tight black dress, and although it had been sexy enough, it definitely didn’t fit the vibe.

  Was Force the same? Should I try to find something more expensive? The way people spoke about Force, with almost a whispered reverence and awe, made me think it was a little rougher around the edges than Calvin Klein and Oscar de la Renta.

  I didn’t have anything appropriate for that, either, which meant I was definitely going to have to buy something. The thought filled me with anxiety and trepidation.

  It was a big deal, going to Force with Noah for the first time. I wanted him to be pleased with me, wanted him to think I was submitting to him in the way he required of me. I wanted whatever I wore to be perfect.

  I remembered the things he’d done to me in his office earlier, the way he’d told me he thought he was falling in love with me. It was the first time he’d even come close to saying something like that, and I wanted him to fall in love with me, wanted him to think I was perfect and wonderful and everything he’d ever wanted.

  I wanted to be sexy for him. The problem was, my body was all wrong. I’d been able to get away with a simple black dress for the last club, but now… how was I supposed to wear anything more revealing than that? I had hips and an ass and I was voluptuous – I didn’t hate my body, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable showing it off, either. Especially not in a room full of strangers. And I didn’t relish the idea of heading to some lingerie store and trying on things that wouldn’t end up fitting.

  I paced around the kitchen, trying to decide what to do.

  My phone rang.

  Noah.

  “Charlotte,” he said when I answered. “I’m glad to hear Jared was able to convince you to get into the car.”

  “It wasn’t Jared’s fault I took the subway earlier,” I said. “You shouldn’t hold him responsible.”

  “Jared has responsibilities, Charlotte. I expect the people who work for me to live up to those responsibilities.”

  “But he – ”

  “Did you eat anything after your class?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll have lunch sent over.”

  “That’s okay. I can find something here.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “You don’t trust me to get my own food?”

  “It has nothing to do with trust, Charlotte. I’ll feel better if I know you’re eating enough.”

  “I eat,” I said, wondering if he could seriously be worried about me eating enough. I did not have the kind of body that made people wonder if I was eating enough.

  “You need to keep up your strength,” Noah said. He lowered his voice and said huskily, “Especially for what I have planned for you tonight.”

  I swallowed, the anticipation flowing through me hard and strong.

  “About tonight,” I said.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “Um, what… what should I wear?”

  “You haven’t found something suitable? Did the credit card I gave you not work?”

  “No. I mean, I haven’t tried it.”

  There was a pause. “I’ll pick something out for you.”

  “You don’t know my sizes.”

  “I know what I want to see you in, Charlotte.”

  I frowned. That wasn’t really the problem. Men knew nothing about picking out clothes for women, especially when the woman had curves like me.

  “I don’t think –”

  “Charlotte,” Noah said, sounding exasperated. “You’ve been very combative today. Is that on purpose? Are you angry with me for some reason?”

  “No.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Then I’ll have something sent over. I’ll be working late tonight, but I’ll pick you up at eight pm. Please be ready.”

  “I will,” I said.

  There was a pause, and my heart sped up for a moment, thinking he might tell me he loved me. Not just that he was falling in love with me, but that he actually did, truly love me.

  But all he said was, “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  We hung up and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Goosebumps had broken out all over my body. I had a feeling tonight was going to be intense. And I was beginning to wonder if perhaps Noah had been right about me not being ready for Force

  The food Noah ordered for me arrived about an hour later -- fresh fruit salad, a turkey and sliced brie sandwich on multigrain bread, and chunky organic vegetable soup.

  It was delicious.

  The outfit he was sending over, however, didn’t arrive until around seven.

  By then, I’d showered, done my make-up, and curled my hair into soft waves around my shoulders. I was sitting in a robe in the living room, flipping through channels on the TV and trying not to freak out, when the doorbell rang.

  When I answered it, no one was there.

  There was a black box wrapped with a red ribbon sitting in the hallway.

  I reached down and picked it up, saying a silent prayer that whatever was inside would fit me. There was no time to get anything else, and it would be a severe level of humiliation to have to admit to Noah that the outfit he’d wanted to see me in was too small, or even worse, just simply unflattering.

  I carried the box into the bedroom and set it down on the bed.

  For a moment, I just stared at it.

  There was a cream-colored envelope stuck underneath the red ribbon, and I reached down and pulled it out. My name was written across the front in swirling silver letters. I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope. The paper was a heavy bond, and felt smooth and creamy in my hands.

  Charlotte- -

  Can’t wait for tonight.

  ~N

  It wasn’t Noah’s handwriting. Obviously. I hadn’t expected him to run down to a store and actually hand pick something. He was at work. He was busy, he had clients and meetings and all kinds of prior commitments.

  But something about a shop assistant writing a note for a box that contained an outfit I was supposed to wear to a BDSM club seemed a little impersonal. It was fine, nothing to get upset about, really, unless I wanted to seem like a spoiled child. But it was just that little bit of distance that was always there with Noah, that little bit of separation that was always smacking me in the face – no matter what, he was always holding me at arms length.

  I sighed and opened the box, holding my breath in anticipation as I pushed away layers of white tissue paper. The box was bigger than it needed to be – the tissue was covering what seemed like just a scrap of material.

  At first, I was sure the outfit had been ripped or torn, and that I was going to have to return it. The material seemed shredded almost.

  But when I got it out of the box, I realized it wasn’t shredded at all. It was a dress -- a body hugging black dress with tears all the way down the front, right across the middle.

  My heart sped up. There was no way Noah could expect me to wear something like this. My breasts were way too big to wear a dress like this – the material would hardly be covering me, and I was too tall for the length. I’d be lucky if it covered my ass.

  There was a silky drawstring bag still inside the box, and I pulled it out, hoping it was some kind of alternate outfit. Perhaps Noah knew he’d been pushing the envelope with this one, and so he’d instructed the shop assistant to put in an extra, less revealing option.

  But the bag was filled with a compliment to the dress—sheer black thigh highs, a garter belt, and the tiniest g-string I’d ever seen. My pulse raced, thinking about putting this on, about wearing it in front of anyone except Noah. I hadn’t worn lingerie for anyone except my college boyfriend, and even then it had only been once or twice. I’d change into it in the bathroom
quickly, then slip under the covers and shut the lights off before he had a chance to see me.

  The thought of wearing these things to a club, in front of a crowd of people…I reached for my phone and thought about calling Noah, telling him there was no way I could wear this out. But I could already imagine the conversation. He would tell me I wasn’t ready for Force, that we could do it another time, that he wanted me to be comfortable.

  And if he didn’t take me to Force, I wouldn’t be able to look for Audi James.

  So I gathered up the clothes along with all of my courage, and headed for the bathroom to try them on.

  Ten minutes later, I stared at myself in the mirror.

  The dress clung to my curves, the rips down the middle showing off my black lace push up bra and ample cleavage. The bottom of the dress clung to my ass and hips, the fabric stopping mid-thigh. If I bent over even a little bit, or if the dress pulled up even a centimeter, you could see the thin straps of my garter belt where they attached to my thigh-high stockings.

  My hair was wild around my shoulders, the apples of my cheeks pink, my skin flush with excitement. I lined my lips with a red lipstick and surveyed myself in the mirror critically. I didn’t look bad, exactly. It was just… I didn’t like being on display like this. I felt like every flaw was magnified. Everything I was self-conscious about was out there for the world to see.

  I wasn’t used to this. Even in college, when girls were going out in tight tank tops and short shorts, or halters and jeans, I was never that comfortable with my body. The craziest I ever got was a V-neck t-shirt. My instinct was to grab a sweater and wrap it around myself so that I’d have something to cover myself with at the club.

  From down the hall, I heard the sound of the door opening, and footsteps echoing across the kitchen floor.

  “Charlotte?” Noah called. “Are you here?”

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. He’d picked out the outfit, and yet… I was still afraid I wasn’t going to be enough for him. How could I be? I’d seen the looks women gave him -- everyone from the receptionist at the police station to the hostess at the restaurant to random, gorgeous women on the street. Noah was beautiful, his body absolutely perfect. It was as if God had carved him out of stone, making every line and curve and muscle flawless. It was intimidating to feel so exposed, even more so to do it in front of someone who was so undeniably sexy.