Page 23 of Pierced

And whereas Ms. Rothschild’s humiliation was a public affair, with respect to Mr. Chevalier’s own public profile, Ms. Rothschild agrees to maintain silence in regard to all activities executed in the privacy of Ms. Rothschild’s… “Dungeon? What the fuck are you—?”

She rolls her index finger in a ‘keep reading’ gesture.

In exchange for his agreement to assume the role of SUBMISSIVE TO MS. ROTHSCHILD…

“This is fucking insane. Okay? Let’s just… This is fucking insane.”

But, for whatever reason, I keep reading.

… Mr. Chevalier will be pardoned and forgiven for all injuries inflicted and wrongs committed and at the conclusion of the endeavor, Ms. Rothschild agrees to never speak of it again. Agreed to and signed…

I glance over the rest of the half-baked legalese, feeling my eyes grow wider with every word I read, and finally I place the paper back on the desk, take a deep breath, and say as calmly as I can, “Are you out of your fucking mind? What the fuck is this?”

From over my shoulder, I hear the mousy voice of Valerie say, “Sir?”

“Val—What do you want?”

“Did you call for me?”

“No! I didn’t! Will you please get the hell out?”

She nods her head like she’s bowing in a Japanese tea house and ducks away. When I look back at Myrtle she’s sporting a full-on Cheshire Cat grin.

“What,” I begin, slowly, “the fuck is this?”

“Your penance,” she says. “You say you want forgiveness? You want to pay penance? Here’s your chance. I look at it like this,” she says, standing and rounding the desk to face me directly. “You publicly humiliated me.” I find myself backing up as she walks toward me, even though I don’t mean to. “You want to find a way for me to forgive you.” I’m bumping into my throne now. “I want to be able to feel like we’re even.” I fall into the seat, as she leans over me and whispers in my ear. “And this is a way for me to get what I want, you to get what you want, and nobody. Ever. Has. To know. And gee, won’t that be nice?”

Her hot breath on my ear causes my dick to jump. Which takes me by surprise and causes me to jump. I leap out of the seat and march past her.

“You’re fuckin’ bonkers, lady. You know that? You’re out of your goddamn tête!”

She just lowers her chin and smirks. Again. “Pierce… honestly? I feel like you’re getting off easy. I’m offering to sign a legally binding contract that says no one will find out about what happens between us. That’s a far greater courtesy than you gave me.”

“Jesus Christ. You really think you are Christian Grey, don’t you?”

“Do I?”

“Sure as fuck seems like it! I mean, this idea of yours is as bizarre, incoherent, ludicrous, and derivative as that Fifty Shades shit!”

“Derivative?”

“You took this idea from that book, and the woman who wrote it took the idea from those Twilight books, didn’t she?”

“You really read Fifty Shades?”

“Everybody read Fifty Shades!”

This is insane. I find myself breathing heavily, in and out, through my nose. Stalking my office like a panther. Or a caged tiger. Or maybe a cheetah. I dunno which animal I feel like I am exactly, but it’s something dangerous and supple. That I feel certain of.

And then, quite suddenly, I hear Andrew’s voice in my head. Telling me I need to prostrate myself. To lay myself at Myrtle’s feet. If that’s what I want. If I want her to forgive me. If I want to genuinely and truly apologize and make it right.

And then I hear my father’s voice telling me to never supplicate myself. To maintain my power at all times. To always retain my dominance. And those two voices, competing in my brain, are giving me a fucking headache.

I turn to say something to her. I don’t know what exactly. Just something. To yell or to… I dunno. But when I spin and see her standing there…

I’ve known her for seven years. For seven years she has been my one constant. The most important woman in my life. I’ve not had another woman enter my world for more than a few weeks. At most. But Myrtle has remained.

And she still remains. She doesn’t have to be here. I’d like to pretend that it’s the money and the promotion, but I don’t think she cares about those things. Not really. I just don’t think it’s a guiding force for her.