Chapter Eleven
Melissa awoke to complete darkness and total confusion.
"Where the hell am I?" she mumbled. Her head was pounding with what was clearly her second hangover in just four days. That was more hangovers than she had had in a decade.
She crawled out of the unfamiliar bed she was in and came to her feet, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She recognized nothing around her.
"Where the hell am I?" She repeated. She was wearing only her underwear. There was black tie evening wear draped across a seat next the bed.
"Oh my God. What did I… what have I done? Oh no."
She searched her mind but the last thing she remembered was...
"Oh my God, no. I kissed him. But what else...?"
She remembered that thrilling kiss, like an answer to all her prayers, Jason's hand resting softly on her cheek, thinking to herself that she would do anything for him, do anything with him.
But there was more; a vivid memory of the most side-splitting, throat wrenching, back arching orgasm she had ever had in her whole life. But that memory was in her home, before… before what?
She ran to the drapes and pulled them apart, a lazy Sunday afternoon Paris ambled in the streets below her.
She turned around with her hands over her face.
"Oh my God."
Jason Demovic was sitting in an armchair watching her. Smiling his billionaire smile. He was fully dressed, smart casual, as manicured and beautiful as ever. On his lap was a silver tray covered with a pristine white cloth.
"Breakfast?" He said.
"Oh my God." She stumbled to the bed and dived under the bed clothes.
"Pervert." She said accusingly.
"Me? You are calling me a pervert? That’s rich. After the things you begged me to do to you last night."
"I was drunk last night."
"And those things you wanted me to do this morning."
"Oh my God." She buried her head deeper in the covers. "Stop fucking with me, I can't remember anything."
"Would you like me to refresh your memory with some footage of your lost night in Paris?"
She panted for breath underneath the thick, luxurious covers and had nothing to say in response.
"I've been around the block a few times Melissa but I guess in your line of work as a therapist you've come across scenarios that would make even a porn star think twice. You're just lucky I promised not to lay a finger on you because of--"
"You did what?"
"I promised someone that I wouldn't take advantage of--"
"You wouldn't take advantage? Don't make me laugh. If you're so concerned about my modesty then why were you sitting there in the dark just waiting for me to…to…"
"Jump out of bed in your sexy underwear?"
"Exactly. Yes. I mean no. Not sexy, just, just--"
"I'll be the judge of that and I call sexy on this one. Very sexy. And albeit I have to admit that I enjoyed the show, it's only fair to say that I could never have predicted that you would actually jump out of bed the way you did. Especially not after the condition you were in last night. I also had no way of knowing what you would be wearing underneath there. Or how surprisingly arousing it would be."
"You mean I could have been naked?"
"That would have been nice."
"You bastard."
"I just brought you breakfast and that's how you thank me?"
"You gloated at me in my underwear."
He smiled. "In your alluring lingerie."
She looked at herself under the blankets. She didn't recognize the underwear at all. He was right, she hadn't put those on when she rushed to get dressed the previous morning. This was designer underwear with Parisian couture.
How the hell…?
"I'll just leave this here Melissa. If I had wanted to see you naked then I could have said yes to any number of the uh… suggestions you made to me last night. Now as much as it pains me, I'm going to leave you alone to get dressed. We need to get ready to fly back to New York. I've got work to do and so do you. Have breakfast. Get cleaned up and put some clothes onto that gorgeous body. You have an hour. Then I expect you to be ready to work with me on the flight back to New York. I think I'm about ready to open up to you. Considering how, uh, very open you've been to me in the last…" he looked at his watch, "twelve hours or so. I'll see you on the plane."
He closed the door gently as he left.
Melissa sat with her head in her hands.
"Wait!" She shouted. "Come back here."
The flight attendant had said he never broke a promise. The personal assistant had said it too.
"Jason Demovic. Get back in here."
He promised someone he wouldn't take advantage of her.
"You made a promise to someone. A promise that you broke."
He had kissed her. At the very least.
He claimed he needed her help.
The polished golden door knob slowly turned.
"You promised you wouldn't take advantage of me but you kissed me, that much I remember. You kissed me when I was drunk. And before that you… you…"
Gave me mind blowing oral sex. The words wouldn't quite come out of her mouth.
The door opened.
"Melissa, we can discuss this on the plane. We don't have time."
"I have time. I have all the time in the world. After Tuesday afternoon I'll have nothing but time. So you get back in here, sit down and talk to me or you can fly back to New York by yourself. I'll fly coach back home on my own dime. I still have enough money for that."
Jason ran his fingers through his thick hair, sighed and then strode across the room to sit down in the armchair again.
"Okay Dr. Price. You have my full attention. Now what is it?"
"Who did you make the promise to?"
"That doesn't make any difference."
"It does to me. Now you tell me or you fly alone."
She pushed back the covers and sat up in the bed exposing her naked shoulders and full breasts adorned with the exquisite silk underwear that she had no memory of putting on.
Jason looked at her, his eyes in dark shadows under his brows.
"Okay." He said, glancing at her as though the sight of her partial nudity were almost painful to him. "When you put it like that…" He cleared his throat. "I promised my brother I wouldn't sleep with you until he said it was okay to do so."
Melissa burst out laughing and then swung her legs out over the side of the bed. The dark silk stockings she wore contrasted perfectly with the tasteful pink and black of the rest of her underwear.
Jason watched her intently.
"My God Melissa…"
"Until he said it was 'okay'? What the hell does that mean? When exactly does your brother deem it 'okay' for you to fuck your psychotherapist?"
"That came out wrong. Melissa, please just get back into the bed--"
She stood up.
"You don't get to tell me anything anymore Jason Demovic. God I don't know why I've been so afraid of you all this time." She walked over to where he sat and stood in front of him, her abdomen and navel just level with his face.
"Melissa, please just get dressed--"
"Shut up." She said. "Just shut up, alright? I'm sick of being controlled by you. Now you tell me what's going on. No--first you make me a promise."
"If you get dressed."
"I'll get dressed when I please." She put her hand on his forehead and pushed it back. He looked up at her and the fear in his eyes rocked her. Her hand faltered.
"Jason, what is it? What's wrong?"
"Please just get dressed." He said huskily. "You're torturing me."
She continued to look at him until he dropped his gaze.
"Promise me that you will always tell me the truth." She said. "Promise me that you will never, ever lie to me about anything again."
She watched him tremble and was filled with amazement. It was always the same; the closer she came to the real Jason Demovic, clearly the harder it was for him to control himself, emotionally or physically. She had the eerie feeling that she could ask anything of him in this moment and that he would give it to her without hesitation.
The thought was wildly exciting.
"Say it." She said, feeling her nipples swell and grow tender under the sexy lingerie.
He lowered his head still further, his chin coming to his chest, heaving in turmoil.
"I promise." He hissed. "Now get dressed. For God's sake. Please just put some clothes on."
He struggled from the chair, pushed her aside while trying to avoid physical contact as much as possible and then fled from the room leaving the door wide open.
Melissa looked around the room in a daze. If her gentle kiss on the forehead to Bill Kingsley was ethically questionable, there was no doubt in her mind that what she had just done was profoundly wrong. Or that it had felt so profoundly, thrillingly right. It felt like it was meant to be, that his sickness, whatever it was, had been crafted and molded just for her and for her needs. He was made for her and she was made for him in every conceivable way.
In the grand scheme of things maybe professional ethics really were just a minor concern getting in the way of the real emotions that would heal them both forever.
She let out a long sigh of confused relief, awe, and sexual pique.
She glanced down to her breasts and realized how aroused she had become in just seconds, her nipples swollen and pressing hard into her bra, the crotch of her exotic French panties already soaked.
Her emotions inflamed with anger and lust at the same time.
"Who the hell am I?" She whispered, looking aimlessly around the room. Her gaze stopped on a slim black smart phone resting on the seat that Jason had occupied while she had extracted his word of honor from him.
It was his phone.
He had recorded her last night and he had shamelessly photographed her when he had first come to her house.
She looked at it for a moment more. It was his phone; the man she was experiencing the strongest, craziest feelings for in her whole life and a man more powerful and dangerous than any she had ever encountered before.
Those pictures are of me. She thought. I have every right to see them.
She snatched up the phone and the screen came to life. It had been recently used and not shut off leaving her with full access. A call had come through and gone to voicemail. She looked at the number and recognized it instantly. Her hand shook as she tapped the button to listen to the personal messages of Jason Demovic, billionaire.