Submission To Black
By Rachel E. Rice
I had planned to surrender to Mr. Black’s wishes. Raise the white flag and marry him. I couldn’t stand one day more of being without my son and Mr. Black. I wanted to shout, “I submit. Take me and do what you will. I’m yours.” But something deep inside my soul made me feel empty like a river in a dry season.
This is not me, I murmured. This is not Alexander Bishop. I refuse to be controlled by Max or any man.
I’ve inadvertently stumbled into Maximilian Blackstone’s world of control, excess, and secrets and I’ve discovered that I’m not equipped to handle it all. I have no more energy to defy him. I’m heading in the direction of submission if I can’t find the will to control my urges for that devastatingly, erotic, handsome man.
Reaching and placing my head on Blake Scotto’s strong chest was automatic. I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because his broad shoulders reminded me of my father’s comforting chest that was always welcome when I was a child. I could count on it to soak up my tears when I fell off of my bike and skinned my knee and when I needed a good cry. Nevertheless, it was a mistake crying in another man's arms when the incomparable Mr. Black was so close.
I learned that I had made a giant mistake when Blake placed his arms around me cradling and pulling me into him. I felt his longing and desires, his heart beating like thunder breaking. I gave over to the warmth coursing through me, but this was not the time or place.
The jolt I felt wasn’t from Blake but Max’s presence—his green eyes glaring at me. I jerked around surprised to see him standing in the door way. I stepped out of the warmth of Blake’s arms into Max’s cold stare riveting my body.
“I hope that hiring you Mr. Scotto was not a mistake. You are supposed to find my son and here I discover that you are seducing and kissing my wife.” Max stepped closer to me and placed his hand behind my neck. A chill leapt down my spine settling in the small of my back. I wondered if he had used those large hands to strangle that heiress.
I pulled away, “I’m not your wife and Blake wasn’t kissing me.”
“Then what the fuck was he doing?” he said tilting his head to the right. Max took a defiant stance, opening his long legs to gain balance. His hooded eyes and creased brow displayed anger like a wolf showing his teeth before he pounced and attacked his prey.
“I can speak for myself Alex,” Blake stated moving further away from me. Max didn’t wait for an explanation.
“She’s my fiancée and you will address her either as Ms. Bishop or Ms. Blackstone. I didn’t employ you to…”
“Mr. Blackstone, you can dismiss me, but I came here to do a job, and you know there is no one better at this than me. All I’m concerned about is finding your son. This is not about me or Alex…Mrs. Blackstone.” Blake raised his hands and extended a folder dropping it on the granite counter in front of Max. Before the folder hit the counter, I thought Max would hit him, or Blake would hit Max.
They stood glaring at each other until Blake opened the folder and said, “Look, these are copies of pictures from your surveillance cameras. He lined them all according to time and date. Among the many pictures appeared to be images of Max wearing a blue jeans shirt, jeans, and boots looking handsome and rugged. I’ve never seen Max dressed causal. I peered at the photo and the handsome hunk took my breath. He was smiling and holding Maxim’s little hand. They looked so happy together. It was a Mayberry moment. Why hadn’t I seen that side of him before? But it wasn’t Max’s moment.