“You’re really happy for me, Mom?”

I know she’s not, but I want to hear her lie one more time if only to prove that everybody does it.

“Of course.”

She’s definitely a liar. Not unlike myself today. That and she doesn’t want to say something that could warrant a private talk from my father after dinner about morals and sinning. It turns into a whole church sermon by the time he’s done.

Those are annoying.

His talks require taking a seat in his den and listening to him lecture while appearing agreeable and remorseful for having thoughts that didn’t jive with the way he ran his family.

Kath, his third wife, had it the worst. She wasn’t raised with the confines of AUB teachings. Polygamy was new to her. This religion was new to her. She learned after the first year to stop questioning so much and to just submit.

“Where are you working again?” Summer asks as if I haven’t already told them a million times.

“Some corporation in Salt Lake City. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.” My mind goes to the script on the business card. “Townsend Energy Holdings. They’re a renewable energy organization.”

Sadly, that’s the only thing I know. I’d Google him if I could.

But I can’t. My father has a Christian internet filter installed on my laptop. I can only access religious and educational websites.

“Oh, so like solar energy? Wind energy?” Summer dumps a handful of chopped pineapple into a bowl of marshmallows.

“Exactly.” I nod, wearing the confident expression I summoned from the depths of my liar-liar-pants-on-fire soul.

“Don’t get too attached to this job,” Mom says through half-pursed lips. Her nose scrunches as she shoots me a look. “You know it’s only temporary. Once you marry Cortland, he may not want you working outside the home.”

These fools really believe I’m going to marry Cortland.

“Yes, I know. I’m just saving money for my future. For our future.” I lean my elbows against the counter. “If it’s God’s will that I marry Cortland, we’ll have a beautiful wedding and a nice war chest to start our life with. And this gives me something to channel my energy into for the time being. I hate to be one of those girls who obsess over their future husband, you know? Like Holly Dwyers from church. Remember her? And that man ended up deciding not to marry her in the end. That girl needed a hobby outside of courting.”

“Cortland came into your life at just the right time. I’ve been saying for months now that it’s time for you to meet someone, Bellamy,” Summer says. Her eyes light up and mist at the same time. “No one deserves to be lonely.”

News flash, I’m not lonely. Finding a man is the least of my concerns.

“I can’t wait for you to have babies.” Summer grins ear to ear like my future is playing before her eyes on some imaginary movie screen. “You’re so good with the kids. You’re going to be a great mother. I just know it.”

“I’m just glad she’ll be a first wife,” my mother interjects, her eyes on me. “Firstborns are stubborn and headstrong. Bellamy would never do well as number two or three or, God-forbid, four. Can you imagine Bellamy being that far down the chain of command?”

“Is that how you think of us, Jane?” Summer leans against the counter, her smile fading. “As numbers? Less superior than yourself?”

They bicker like sisters sometimes, though I suppose that’s basically what they are: sisters with a spiritual bond who share a husband.

Totally normal.

Everybody does it.

Psh.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I was simply stating an observation about my daughter,” my mother fires back.

“Our daughter,” Summer reminds her.

I slip out unnoticed and trek up to my room to slip out of my pencil skirt and button down. My hand traces the lines of the calendar hanging above my desk. I lift a few pages until I get to August.

Four more months.

I did the math in the car on the way home.

All I need is four more months, and then I should be able to afford a place for my eighteen-year-old sister, Waverly, and myself to stay while we figure things out, because I’m taking her with me. If my father is itching to marry me off, she’s going to be next. She’s about to graduate from high school. I can’t leave her behind. And someday we’ll come back for the others.

Four more months until my life is my own.

I’ll be able to give my body and soul and heart and mind to a man of my choosing when I choose to do it.

I’ll belong to no one.

I’ll submit to no one.

Submission has never been in my DNA.

THREE

DANE

“Hate me yet, Randy?”

I lean back in my chair, my free hand gripping the leather armrest as I spin around to take in the foggy morning view of the city. Randy Mutchler wheezes on the other end of the phone. Being a larger man has never stopped him from nailing his fair share of beautiful women on a regular basis, especially women who find money particularly arousing.

I may have swiped his newest conquest out from under him, but the way I look at it, I was doing her a favor.

She’ll thank me someday.

“Every single day,” Randy puffs, his voice rattling. He really should lay off the cigars.

“I’m sure you’ll find another.” I insert a smile into my voice that to anyone else might seem lighthearted, but to me, it’s victorious. “She’ll be better off with me. I get the impression she’s slightly green. Breaking them in is what I do best. You know that.”

“No clue what you’re talking about, Dane.” I hear papers rustling around in the background. As per usual, Randy is attempting to multitask and failing miserably. He’s not listening.

“The girl,” I say, sitting up. I glance at my watch. She should be here any minute. My H.R. department contacted her last week and gave her strict orders, but it seems as though timeliness might have to be our first lesson. “The blonde with the pouty pink lips and the clear blue eyes?”

“You’re describing two-thirds of the girls who frequent the Crystal Swan.”

We’re clearly not on the same page.

“I’m not talking about the club, Randy. I’m talking about Bellamy Miller.” I say her name out loud for the first time since last week.

“Not ringing a bell.”

My smile evaporates, and the room heats.

She lied.

The girl with the fuck-me mouth and the tight, candy ass. The girl with the hips that flare out just enough to send me into a desperate state of craving the warmth of her stinging flesh under my palm.

I fucking hate liars.

“I met her last week. She said you’d just hired her, and she couldn’t discuss the terms. I assumed she was your new concierge.” I massage my left temple.

Randy’s laughter whistles through the receiver. “I hired a bunch of college grads recently for some cubicle grunt work. Maybe she was one of them? I don’t know. Name doesn’t sound familiar. Still looking for that perfect concierge. You know how that is.”

Yes. I know exactly how that is. I’ve had three failed parings this year alone. Two of them were too experienced, bringing in unfavorable habits from their previous Doms, and one was too stupid to live.

Line two rings. My assistant’s name flashes on the caller I.D.

“Randy, I’m letting you go.”

More like I’ll see him at the Crystal Swan. That’s how I first met the horny bastard. He was a premier member of a local sexual sanctuary. We were locked in a bidding war over spending one night with a charming twenty-five-year-old with flawless teardrop breasts, the kind that look perfect when strapped between a complex rope arrangement.

I hang up with Randy and take Marlene’s call.

“Your new assistant is here,” she says. “Shall I send her in?”

I slick my thumb across my brow bone before adjusting my tie. She’s four minutes late. “Send her back. Then tell Laurie Madsen in H.R. she’ll be there soon. I’d like to have a quick word with her before I send her down.”