Claimed Darker by Em Brown
Chapter 2
BRIDGET
Past
The morning of my flight back to California, as I examine myself in the bathroom mirror, I ask myself: was Phuket worth getting stitches in my lip?
Yes, oh yes. Without a doubt.
Not only did I get to experience one of the most beautiful places on Earth—my first time out of the U.S. and I got to go to Thailand—I got to spend time with Darren. And he seems to have been extra sweet ever since I got my busted lip, thanks to my attempt to intervene in a fight between him and Joseph Mok, an old rival. As if he thinks I’m maimed, Darren hasn’t been as hard or rough the times we’ve had sex. He hasn’t thrown in any BDSM elements, which I’m surprised I kind of miss. Guess I like the way Darren keeps me on my toes.
Last night, he surprised me with a romantic dinner on the beach. The resort staff had set up oversized pillows and a table just for two beneath a canopy of tulle and organza.
“How can I thank you enough for this trip?” I had asked him partway through dinner. “Everything has been amazing, from the flight to the accommodations to the clothes.”
“You will be thanking me,” he had replied with a glimmer in his eyes. “A night at my club, remember?”
I hadn’t forgotten. It’s pretty hard to rid my mind of the image of clothespins being ripped off a woman’s naked body, one of the first scenes I had witnessed after accidentally wandering into the BDSM side of the club Darren owns.
What would he want to do to me? I weathered the spanking he gave me with my hairbrush. The anal plug was awkward but surprisingly erotic. But I know he’s going to up the game at his club, and now I feel beholden to endure as much as possible. Not because Darren said I had to but because it’s human nature to want to return a favor.
“I probably owe you more than just one night,” I had joked to see what his response would be. It wasn’t my choice to fly in a suite, stay in a beach cabin at a luxury resort, or have his manager buy designer clothes for me. But I had enjoyed it, nonetheless, so it was time to pay the piper.
“The agreement going into this was one night,” he had said, “but if you’re offering more, I won’t refuse.”
“Let’s see how the first night goes,” I’d replied.
I had expected him to reassure me then that he’d go gentle on me or that we’d take it slow, but he didn’t do any of that.
“This is the part where you tell me I have nothing to worry about,” I had prodded.
“I can’t predict what you will or won’t worry about,” he’d replied placidly.
That didn’t help put me at ease.
“I’ll have a safe word, right?” I had asked.
“’Course.”
That had made me feel better. A little.
I finger the stitches on my bottom lip. Supposedly the stitches will just dissolve when my lip heals. I haven’t told Aunt Coretta, the woman who spent a good many years helping my grandmother raise me, about my split lip. I had forgotten to call her the night of the wedding and subsequent brawl, and she had been a little worried. Flying halfway around the world with a man I didn’t know all that well wasn’t the most prudent thing to do. It was something my mom would do. And I didn’t want to be like my mom, who basically abandoned me with my grandmother so she could gallivant around Europe with rich or pseudo-rich men. I don’t know for sure how she’d ended up with my father, who served in the military and was far from rich, except that she was on the rebound.
“Leave your stitches alone.”
I turn to see Darren standing at the bathroom entrance with his arms crossed in front of him.
“They feel weird,” I reply, glancing back into the mirror.
He walks over to me and grasps my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Touch them again, and your ass will pay for it.”
My backside tingles. “Okay, okay. What’s the big deal anyway?”
“You never had stitches before?”
I shake my head.
“I have,” he says, releasing me. “Twice. The first time, I picked at them and ended up reopening the wound.”
“Why’d you need stitches?”
“I was twelve. JD dared me to leap over the stairs in front of our school on my bike. I crashed and hit my chin.”
“And the second time?”
He pauses before replying, “Another accident. Teen boys are prone to that.”
“What happened?”
He turns away dismissively. “It was stupid shit.”
“What kind of stupid shit?”
He doesn’t respond right away.
“I can imagine some pretty stupid shit,” I offer.
He looks a little exasperated but says, “I accidentally shot myself with a gun.”
My eyes widen. “What were you doing with a gun?”
“It wasn’t mine. It belonged to a bodyguard.”
“You had a bodyguard?”
“My father was paranoid that year. But my mom had the bodyguard fired after what happened.”
I’m curious to know what prompted his father’s paranoia, but that might be a sensitive subject, so I ask, “Were you hurt badly?”
“Bullet went into my leg.”
“How did that happen?”
“The safety wasn’t on the gun. I was fooling around, the gun fell to the ground and went off.”
I gasp. “You were lucky the bullet didn’t land anyplace worse.”
H grins. “There was a moment when my mom lit into me that I wished the bullet had hit me in a worse place.”
“I can see that about your mom. She’s a tough lady. I like her.”
I’m not entirely sure Sharon Lee returns the sentiment, however. She was nice to me after the brawl and accompanied me and Darren to the clinic where I got my stitches, but I’ve caught her looking at me oddly a few times, like I’m some strange zoo creature.
“You ready?” Darren asks me. “Our bags are in the car already.”
“Our bags?” I echo. “Aren’t you staying an extra week?”
“Why would I want to? Mok left, so I can’t break his nose a second time.”
I grab my purse and we walk out of the cabin. “You were able to change your flight?”
“It was easy.”
“Well, we’ll be flying in separate parts of the plane. I had Cheryl downgrade my flight to economy.”
“You think my manager wouldn’t have told me that?”
“Hope you like it in coach then.”
“Hope you like it in the suite.”
I stop. “You changed my flight?”
“I’m not flying economy, especially on an international flight.”
“Okay, but I’d feel better flying coach.”
He shakes his head at me. “You are one weird-ass chic, Bridge.”
“The more you do stuff like this, the more I feel I owe you.”
His eyes take on a darker, molten quality. “Maybe that’s the idea.”
I don’t have a response.
Amy, my friend and roommate from Cal, comes up to us. “I wish you’d stay longer.”
“I wish I could, too,” I answer. “But I can’t miss much more school and work.”
I wonder that Amy can seem so nonchalant about her classes and job. I know she’s missing at least one test in her chem class, though she’s so cute, she can probably talk her professor into letting her take it when she wants.
“Where’s JD?” I inquire.
“On a business call,” Amy says. “He’s pretty mad. Something work-related. Like a bad shipment or something. It sounds super serious. I’m actually worried about him.”
She looks over to Darren, who puts on his sunglasses even though we’re standing in the shade of several sugar palm trees.
“He’ll be fine,” Darren says.
“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Amy asks.
Darren shrugs. “Things have always worked out for my cousin.”
Amy appears a little more at ease. “I didn’t realize his line of business could be so stressful.”
Darren doesn’t say anything further on the topic. I remember that JD imports and exports chemical compounds or something like that.
“I’ll go check out,” Darren says before heading over to the reception.
Once he’s out of earshot, Amy gushes, “Can you believe how lucky the two of us have been? Spending a week in paradise with two super-hot guys? It feels like I’m dreaming, and I hope I never wake up!”
I finger the stitches in my lip.
“Except for you getting hurt, of course,” Amy adds.
“Still worth it,” I reply.
“It’s too bad that Mok guy didn’t end up in jail.”
I agree, but Darren threw the first punch between the two of them, so if Mok went, Darren might have as well. And apparently both men had sat in jail before. Which didn’t surprise me terribly when Darren had told me. I’ve always sensed there was an edge to Darren, and I don’t usually go for guys like that. If it weren’t for the chemistry…which I don’t understand either. Pheromones, I guess?
“The only thing that would make this trip perfect,” Amy continues, “is if JD weren’t so stressed about work and if she wasn’t here.”
I follow her gaze to the swim-up bar in the pool where a beautiful young woman sits, wearing a glittering gold one-piece swimsuit that has less fabric to it than a bikini. I wish I could reassure her that she has nothing to worry about, but I just don’t know JD well enough. I’ve caught him glancing at other women with appreciation in his eyes, which doesn’t automatically make him a player or disqualify him for relationship material, but I still get a less-than-trustworthy sense.
I should probably apply that sentiment to Darren, even though he seems to have rebuffed the women who have come onto him during our stay here in Phuket. Noting that Darren’s most recent ex-girlfriend is a lingerie model, I think it’s probably a matter of time before he does give in to the attentions of women hotter than me.
Well, in that event, it will have been fun while it lasted. Frankly, as much as I’m attracted to him, I’m not sure that Darren’s relationship material either. At least not for me.
