Bartered Surrender: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 9 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) by Ava Lore

Author:Ava Lore
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Brittle Divinity Press
Published: 2012-12-03T06:00:00+00:00

One Month Later

My shoes were hurting. My back was cramping. My legs were exhausted. My head ached. And I couldn't breath. My wedding corset? Had been great when we got married and then immediately retired to the limo to screw our brains out. When you have to stand around at a reception afterward, smiling and nodding at a bunch of people whose names have passed you like ships in the night? Not ideal.

In fact, pretty much the opposite of ideal. The Platonic ideal of unideal.

Haha, I thought to myself. I'm so clever. I really needed air.

Actually, I really needed to sit down. And I really needed to not be listening to this old guy with the inscrutable accent talk about hedge funds. Or was he talking about actual hedges? I couldn't even tell. Or was that care? I couldn't even care? Yeah. That was probably it.

With great effort, I drew a breath. The stays of my corset creaked as I struggled to suck air into my lungs, but in the end they held and I had to content myself with taking a light-headed gulp of champagne and smiling politely.

“Felicia!” My mother bustled up to me and grabbed my arm. “Have you met Mr. and Mrs. Mordon from the Mordon Foundational Trust? I'm sorry, Mr. Steinbeck, but I simply must steal my daughter for a moment.”

Out of the frying pan and into the suicidally boring fire, as they say. I gave Mr. Steinbeck an apologetic smile as my mother herded me off to meet yet another rich person I couldn't care less about. She, of course, was in heaven, so I couldn't very well throw myself on the floor and have a screaming tantrum like I used to when I was four, but the urge was still very much there. All my friends were busy hobnobbing and trying to suck up to all the rich potential patrons of the arts, Sadie was off somewhere making sure things ran smoothly, and my husband was nowhere to be found. There was no one to rescue me. I could really use a sledgehammer right about now. Smash up the bar, perhaps. Or one of the ice sculptures, even though each of them was a replica of one of my works.

It was a nice touch. Sadie really outdid herself. But a girl's got her limits, and I was fast approaching mine.

My mother's hand on my arm propelled me toward a couple in their fifties, laughing about something with another bland couple in their fifties, and I wanted to shoot myself. When I'd envisioned my wedding reception when I was slightly younger, I'd always imagined something like an Irish wake, but without the dead body. Or hell, bring a dead body. As long as it wasn't anyone I, personally, had known.

“Mr. and Mrs. Mordon!” my mother called. “Let me introduce you to my daughter...”

One half of the couples turned toward me, all smiles, and I smiled back automatically. Mr. Mordon, a pleasant man who looked like

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