Surviving the Rich-Sunshine and Sir

Dominion of the Master

"Are you familiar with the Baylor family?"

Rae cocked her head to the side. "Baylor Farms? The preserve in the burbs Reagan loves going to in the summer and around Halloween. Baylor Avenue, the Dennis and Pearl Baylor wing of the Field Museum. That Baylor family?"

"The very one," Killian said. "An old prestigious Chicago family."

"Prestigious meaning money."

"The money definitely allowed for the prestige." Killian rested a hand on her knee and changed lanes. "Dennis died years ago along with his two sons and their wives."

"I remember that," Rae said, getting a far off look in her eyes. "His plane. Something happened to the instruments and it went down. It was all over the news."

"Brett Baylor was five at the time, and the only survivor." Killian stroked her thigh with his thumb, almost absently, like it was an afterthought. "Pearl called him her miracle child. She lost her husband and sons, so her grandson became her whole world, and she made sure the world was his for the taking."

"Spoiled rotten rich kid is what you're saying."

"And then some. Pearl got him into Stanford, and gave him seed money for his first startup in Silicon Valley, and then his second and third. He had connections, clout, and the hungry arrogance investors like-"

"In men," Rae muttered. "They don't appreciate the same hungry arrogance in women."

"Which is one of the issues that brought Brett to my attention. He reveled in the frat house culture of Silicon Valley, and even though his first two startups failed, his talent for bullshitting got him a third. That one did quite well, although that had more to do with his partners than Brett."

Rae switched her gaze to the windshield, her favorite moment in the drive coming. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and as they drove up a small rise in the road that excited buzz in her stomach ignited. Chicago was suddenly there in the distance, the shining sun making it look like a painting or a floating magical city. When she was little she called it her emerald city, and the first time she saw the river dyed green for St. Patrick's Day her belief was confirmed. She loved the city when she was a kid, every trip to it an adventure, just like Dorothy. Her mother fed that childhood exuberance and imagination, and made every adventure memorable. She smiled and Killian gave her a leg a gentle squeeze. "It never gets old."

She nodded her eyes on the skyline until it disappeared from view. It would reappear a few miles down the road, but the first time always took her back to her childhood, to good memories. "The Midwestern Silicon Valley," she said with a sigh. "I remember the buzz and the excitement, and the name Baylor coming up when it all fell apart."

Killian nodded. "He managed to get investors based on his name and the success of that last startup, and then it all fell through. A couple investors started looking into Brett and found he wasn't the golden boy they'd been led to believe. That's when they came to me. Grace Sawyer is representing a group of women suing Baylor for creating a hostile working environment, wrongful termination, and I'm sure you can guess the rest."

Her mouth twisted in distaste. "Sexual harassment and or assault."

"Brett has always been coddled and protected, shielded from consequences because of his grandmother. But his luck is running out, and while Pearl is still throwing the weight of the Baylor name and fortune around, it isn't enough to shield him from me. Grace and I pooled our resources and tracked down a witness who documented everything. She's our smoking gun."

"But now she's running scared. So what exactly is your plan?"

Killian smiled. "How are your studies coming along? Specifically discovery and depositions."

She took a deep breath and said, "Pretty good, but I'm only a couples weeks in and haven't gotten to either yet. Does that effect your plan?"

Stella was a certified paralegal, and being Killian's new everything Rae was expected to become one as well. While everyone at the firm admired and looked up to Killian, they usually worked with or under the direction of Stella, which was how Killian wanted it. He had the same expectation for Rae. A career in law was never anything she even remotely considered, but becoming a paralegal would open doors for her. She'd actually have a career instead of a job, and that was worth it, especially for Reagan.

"I'm still working out the details," he said. "But don't worry, I'm sure you'll rise to the challenge. Just follow my lead."

She nodded and grabbed her notebook. Pulling up files for the day's appointments she read through as much information as she could to prep for whatever Killian had planned. Since she hadn't expected to see him until he got back from the city she wasn't prepared, and needed to rectify that. Killian occasionally stroked her leg but otherwise kept quiet letting her read uninterrupted.

Engrossed in her reading, she only noticed they were in the city when they drove under the old post office. Another childhood memory rose to the surface. Her awe that in order to get into the city you had to drive under a building. Reagan had felt the same the first time she was cognizant of driving under the old post office and into the city on the other side. She'd laughed and clapped, her face bright with excitement and delight. That was one of the parts of being a parent Rae loved, rediscovering the world through the eyes of her child. So much wonder in the little things Rae had become desensitized and or accustomed too. Reagan forced her to look at everything once again, and appreciate the intricacies of life. She was forever grateful for that, and told Reagan as much on more than one occasion. Her heart twinged and she felt a certain loss. It was strange being in the city at the same time as Reagan and not being with her. That had never happened before.

Killian squeezed her leg. "Everything alright?"

"Just thinking about my baby in the city without me."

He patted her leg and turned onto Dearborn. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Mmhmm." She turned her attention back to the file. Killian didn't understand, and she doubted he had any interest in really trying to. Kids were a distraction. They were messy, unpredictable little narcissists who demanded attention at the most inopportune times. Killian didn't want the competition. A smile crept across her face, and she cleared her throat to cover the laughter that was trying to break free.

"Why do I feel like one of those wacky things just popped into your head?" Killian side eyed her and she fixed an innocent expression on her face. "At my expense no less."

She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn't have an idea what he was talking about and he shook his head. After a brief hesitation she grabbed her phone and texted Jimmy. She asked about the drive under the post office, wondering whether Reagan did her count down. He responded immediately that she'd counted from five and they both yelled adventure after one. A new addition. She looked out the window, watching the people walk brusquely down the sidewalk, most bundled from head to toe to ward off the bone chilling cold. She was a working parent, she was going to miss things here and there, just like Jimmy had. It was inevitable. But guilt still gnawed at her.

Killian swung into a garage and stopped at the gate. Instead of taking a ticket he punched in a code. The gate rose but he didn't drive up to the second level, he shifted to the left, towards a metal door that was rising.

"What's this?" she asked as Killian drove down a ramp.

He glanced at her, fighting a smile of his own. "Parking for the boutique is on the lower level."

"Why do I get the feeling you're up to something?" she asked, amused at the expression on his face.

The lower lot was small, well it, and pristine. The cement floor shone like polished wood, and the thirty parking spaces, ten of which were occupied, were roomy. No one would accidently hit another car, even if they threw their doors open wide.

Killian pulled into a space and turned the car off. "You should know by now." He got out and walked around to the passenger side while she quickly put everything back in her bag. She tried to open the door but he beat her to it. Holding his hand out he said, "I'm always up to something."

Rae put her hand in his, and laughed under her breath thinking of Stella. She'd said the same thing. Killian was always up to something. A soft hum permeated the air and the slightest scent of citrus wafted around her head. Fans. Fans were pumping in citrus for the elite so the smells of the city didn't assault their noses. "Jesus," she breathed.

Killian pressed the elevator button and looked at her. "Hmm?"

"Love the orange. Kind of reminds of that ride at Disneyland. You fly over orange groves and they pump the scent in from above."

The doors opened and Killian said, "Never been to a Disney property."

"Seems downright un-American," she said, looking at him with mock disapproval.

He laughed and kissed her hand. "I'll try harder."

She smiled and then noticed that except for the red emergency button there was nothing else to press. "How-" The elevator started moving and she looked at Killian confused and slightly alarmed.

He glanced towards the corner where a camera was perched and pointed directly at them. Killian had the code to get into the garage, but the elevator was the second line of defense. If you weren't on the list, you weren't coming up. Killian stroked her fingers with his thumb, an intimate and affectionate gesture she was already growing accustomed too. The tension within her eased, and then she felt the presence beside her shift and transform as Killian wrapped himself in the skin of the king. By the time the elevator door slid open, power radiated from him.

"Method actor," she breathed.

Killian paused mid step and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. She nodded, keeping a straight face and he laughed under his breath, turning his attention back to their destination. A clean-cut well-groomed security guard in a dark blue suit was sitting behind an oval desk in an otherwise empty foyer. No chairs, sofas, or comforts of any kind for people while they waited. He nodded in greeting and a door to the right of the desk opened. A voluptuous brunette in a black and red blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt stepped out. Her rose red lips, which matched her blouse exactly, split into a friendly smile. "Mr. Laird, she said, holding her hand out. "Vanessa. It's a pleasure to meet you face to face."

Killian shook Vanessa's hand. "Thank you for setting this up on such short notice. This is Rae."

Vanessa took her hand, her eyes drifting down and back up her body. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well Rae."

"Thank you," Rae said. "You too."

Vanessa opened the door and said, "Right this way."

Killian put a hand on the small of her back and guided her through the door. Rae caught sight of the five monitors as they passed the security desk. The gate outside, the garage, the elevator, and two broad hallways were visible and then the door shut. They were standing in one of those very halls, which stretched in either direction. Vanessa smiled and gestured to the left, then started walking. Beige carpeting was underfoot, keeping their footfalls quiet. And the place was quiet. She couldn't hear a thing as they passed door after door.

"What kind of boutique is this?" she whispered.

Killian smiled and took her hand. "The best kind."

"I agree with Mr. Laird," Vanessa said, stopping at the very end of the hall. She smiled and opened the door on the right, then gestured for them to go first.

Once again Kilian rested a hand on the small of her back as they walked into the room. She looked at him, slightly suspicious. How the gesture came across was due entirely to the man making it. Being polite, considerate, and respectful were not the same as being chivalrous, which seemed to be an attitude Killian found distasteful. There was a slight possessiveness to his bearing, but if felt more protective, loving even, than proprietorial. He did say he wanted to protect her from the world, then ravage every inch of her. When she looked around the room, she realized he was indeed protecting, and had every intention of ravaging.

The only color in the hall was the beige carpeting, the wall and doors were all nondescript office white. But the room was something else entirely. Rich, antique English oak wall panels covered three of the walls, with intricately designed copper ceiling panels catching the light and making the room appear larger. To the left the wall was painted a dark green, the window in the center tinted, but giving a clear view of the office building across the busy street. In a corner next to the window was a brown leather chair with a small table and a Tiffany style lamp next to it. The colors and patterns of the throw rug underfoot tied the whole room together, the particular style reminiscent of the cigar bar at the first high end place she worked. A room men loved to smoke and drink in, which women rarely entered, except for those serving. But the look was where the similarities ended.

Killian made no move to take off his coat, in fact his hand was still resting against the small of her back, his closeness meant to reassure as she took in the sight before her. Across the room was a clothing rack with an assortment of lingerie, mostly white lace, she presumed Kilian had picked out for her to try. Next to the rack was a tall wooden frame with hooks and notches for restraints, as well as a post made of the same wood with small cushioned bench and back that could be adjusted up or down. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest as her gaze travelled upward, examine the steel bar hanging from the ceiling. Three rings were spaced evenly along the bottom, one on each end and one in the center.

Vanessa crossed the room and pressed on the wood paneling. Part of the wall swung open revealing a cabinet with a plethora of bdsm toys on hooks and shelves, although it appeared a handful had been selected and displayed on the bottom shelf where Vanessa rested her hand. "Which would you like to try first? The undergarments or the toys?"

Rae was a deer in headlights, unable to move or speak. She didn't even know who Vanessa was asking. Killian, she said to herself, Vanessa was asking the one with the money and power, the dominant. Rae was none of those things. Killian kissed the side of her head and then took his coat off and hung it on a hook next to the door. Vanessa smiled invitingly, her gaze trying to peel off Rae's coat and clothing, as if she wanted confirmation for what she imagined underneath.

The hustle and bustle outside seemed like a faraway mirage or a dream as she stood in a playroom for the aristocracy, nestled on the floor of a standard looking office building in the Loop. Her adventure in her floating city taking a turn she never could have foreseen. But that was her life in the gravitational pull of Killian's orbit, one of things never foreseen. He stood at her shoulder, hands in his pockets, relaxed and waiting.

Discombobulated. Her in a nutshell. "So..." Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Do you have a dungeon room in your house, replete with toys and equipment?"

"No special room or equipment," he said quietly. "The chaise is the first piece of furniture designed specifically for sex I've ever purchased. I do have a few toys, like the cuffs we used last night, but only a few, and they're fairly tame."

"And now you want new toys." She raised her eyes to his, keeping her voice steady and calm. "To use on me."

He smiled affectionately, his gaze travelling over her face. "With you. Together we move forward or not at all."

He meant it. If she said no, he'd be disappointed but he'd respect her wishes. Bringing her to the sex boutique was a move he would have considered thoroughly, seeing it from every angle, and gauging possible outcomes before he made the decision to do so. He was betting on her saying yes, certain of it in fact, and after the previous evening she understood why. She'd willingly submitted to his control, giving him the power to restrain and whip her with his belt. And she'd loved every moment. But this wasn't a spur of the moment thing they fell into, although producing her hair clips would insinuate it wasn't as spur of the moment as she thought. He'd been considering and planning, but the confrontation with Mark had accelerated and escalated those plans, leading to one of the most surprising and fulfilling sexual experiences of her life. This morning he dominated her completely and she embraced it, loving the power he wielded over her as much as he did. And yet, wholeheartedly agreeing to be his submissive was a step she wasn't sure she was ready or willing to take.

Killian gently grasped her face, his thumb drifting to its new residence beneath her bottom lip. "We're both novices to this world. Yes, I've dabbled, but only here and there, and not for some time. After last night I would like to explore things further." He drew her lips to his, the tender kiss lingering, his warm breath tickling her skin. Looking into her eyes, he said, "With you. We were already heading this direction, I'm just speeding things along, but if it's too soon for you to take this step, then that's that. We choose your undergarments and save the rest for when you're ready. If, and when you're ready. I want your submission, I won't deny that Rae. It's an aphrodisiac, and I want more of it. I want to punish and reward my sunshine." A shudder rolled down her body, taking residence between her legs. He felt it and gently pulled at her lower lip with his thumb. "But only if you want it as well."

He genuinely wanted her to want this as much as he did, anything less was unacceptable to him. And that was the key takeaway for her. He had a contract which stipulated her sexual subservience to him. He would object to the word subservience, but it didn't make it any less true. He could wield that authority, hold it over her head, and manipulate her into agreement. But he didn't want to, and she realized it probably hadn't even occurred to him to do so. The contract was a means to an end, and he'd achieved that end. Her, in his life. That alone was almost too much to wrap her head around, but in that moment all she could focus on was the sincerity of the man before her. The man who took her to a rundown bowling alley for the best pizza she'd ever had in her life, who trusted her with truth of his past, and brought her cove to life, making the twilight a tangible place of beauty, pleasure and love. That man was asking her to walk through the door into this world with him, to trust her wants, needs, and wellbeing were as important to him as his own. Together or not at all. He wouldn't have it any other way.

She started unbuttoning her coat and he grasped her hands, his gaze holding her enthralled. Through the mantle of the king, she saw gratitude, and a tenderness the bellied the predatory aura of the shark that is Killian Laird, and so much more. Her heart throbbed with a joy she'd wanted since she was a young girl with big dreams of love and adventure, a joy that had always been will-o-the-wisps dancing in the distance, luring her onward, forever out of reach. But in that moment, with Killian, it encapsulated her.

Killian raised her hands to his lips, kissing each, the joy in his eyes matching hers. She smiled and nodded briefly, no words required. He inhaled deeply, his chin resting on her fingers, then gently let them go and turned his attention to the buttons on her coat. She was unable to take her eyes off his face as went down the row, feeling the warmth radiating from him, and not just physical warmth, but a warmth of the heart and mind. She loved knowing the real man behind the mantle, the genuine human being he was with her, all the jockeying for power and position with the other masters of the universe a blip on the outskirts. When he finished with the last button he looked at her and a smile spread across her face. Then she was in his arms, her cheek pressed to his chest, basking in the glow of not only her feelings but his, safe and protected within the circle of his embrace. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair, his fingers gliding over her curls. "My Rae," he said, softly.