Another Snippet

A pretty productive day so far.  I made it until 1:30 AM last night, but wasn’t as productive as I hoped because Littlest Monster turned on Sharknado.  Luckily it was so bad I was still able to finish the scene.  It just took me longer than I hoped.  I got another 1300 words this morning before my dentist appointment, and another 3K+ tonight.  If I can get another 2-3K tonight before bed I’ll be really happy.

However, these last few scenes have been hard emotionally.  I’m getting ready to write the first LOVE scene (far from the first sex scene), although Lilly is so not ready for it.  That’s what makes it hard.  I have to show Donovan’s feelings even if he doesn’t say the words, and the same for her, while she’s thinking something completely different.  Lots of emotion under the calm surface.

And what’s sad is all of this is NEW stuff that I didn’t originally outline.  Sigh.  Using Scrivener, I’d numbered scenes 020-025 for the middle scenes I needed to add.  Since last night, I’m now on 020E because one thing leads to another!  And I still have to write 021-025, which will probably also grow too.  Then I have 017B to go back and fill in.

Then there’s all the threads and layers and special little touches I know I’ll want to add.  But I am getting there.  The book is up to just under 55K and there are definitely some hefty scenes ahead.

Skipping ahead for this snippet and it’s shorter than the others.  I’ll start highlighting a few of my favorite scenes and lines as I post updates.

He glanced around the garage once again, impressed with what she’d been able to do alone, but also realistic.  “You’re going to need a lot more space.”

“Assuming I agree to take on the job.”

“You will.”  He gave her a very rare thing indeed—a genuine smile.  “You can’t resist a challenge.”

“Are you so sure of that?”

“For my sake, I hope so.”

She sighed ruefully.  “That’s one hell of a good private investigator you hired, Mr. Morgan.  How’d you figure out all of this about me from a few sneaky photographs?”

It was his turn to look away and run his hand through his hair.  He wanted to take off his tie and loosen the neck of his shirt, but that might be too informal too quickly for her.  “I have an instinct for people.  That’s why I’ve been able to take a modest family business and turn it into an international billion-dollar company.  The numbers are just columns on paper.  In the end, it’s the people that make or break a deal.”

He spared a glance at her, not surprised to see her studying him as avidly as he’d done earlier.  “You’re a surprising man.  Donovan.”

To hell with it.  He loosened his tie to relieve some of the pressure on his throat, hoping that she wouldn’t sense what was really troubling him.  He didn’t want to think about it himself.

If I’m going to have something tight on my neck, I want it to be hers.  Because she has me collared and bound.

“Very well,” she said.  “How soon do you want to meet and go over contracts?”

He locked his knees to keep from sagging with relief.  Contracts.  Plural.  So she’s at least willing to consider taking me on as a submissive in addition to the windows.  He waited until he could reply without his voice breaking or cracking like a fool.  “Tomorrow morning, 9:00 AM.”

Her eyebrows raised.  “So quickly?”

“I never approach a deal unless I’ve already run my numbers and decided what I want and what I’m willing to give.”

“11:00 AM.  I’m not a morning person.”

No way in hell was he waiting until lunch time to settle this.  “10:00 AM,” he countered.  “And I took the liberty of writing up both contracts to make this deal as expedient as possible.  They’re in my car.”

“Contracts?”  A sliver of displeasure sharpened her voice.  “You’re forgetting my contract.  When it comes to Mistress L, my contract is the only one that counts.”

He had to laugh at that.  He could read legal contracts in his sleep.  A homemade sexual contract would be nothing to worry about.  “I doubt there’s much in your contract that will surprise me.”

She pressed the button to raise one of the garage doors.  “I suspect you might be surprised in that regard, Mr. Morgan.”

His eyes narrowed.  “Back to formality yet again, Miss Harrison?”

She followed him to his car, waiting patiently while he unlocked the door and retrieved his briefcase.  “When you slip into Mr. Douche Bag territory, I’m afraid so.  If we agree on terms—and that’s a huge if—then I’m afraid I’ll have to resort to corporal punishment to break this insufferable arrogance.”

The thought of punishment made his hands tremble so badly it took him a second try to dial in the combination to the lock that he’d done at least a million times.  He managed to hand her the stack of papers without dropping them all over her driveway or accidentally touching her.  “Insufferable arrogance?  That’s rather harsh.”

“You assume that you know everything about me just because you were able to discern that I like a challenge before we formally met.”  She started scanning the top page.  In his opinion, it contained the make-or-break stipulation of the most important contract of all.  “That doesn’t mean you know anything else about me.  In fact, I’d wager here and now you’ve made several critical errors in judgment when it comes to me.”

“Indeed?”  He leaned back against the side of his Jag and crossed his arms.  “I doubt that.”

Slowly, she raised her gaze from the paper and locked her eyes on him with such intensity he immediately stiffened.  “You want me to break the contracts with my other submissives.  That’s a pretty drastic error on your part.”

Stay calm and cool.  Don’t let her know how much this means to you.  “I’m sure you have escape clauses in their contracts.  If not, I’ll simply buy them out.”

“It’s not that simple, Mr. Morgan.  I care about these men.  I’m not going to drop them like last week’s news just for you.”

She cares about them?  He clenched his jaws, fighting to keep from retorting that was rich.  The Mistress cares for the men paying her to take them in hand.  Nice.  “I’m not going to share your time.  I’m not that kind of man.”

“Maybe it’s about time you learned how to share.  You’re not a three-year-old toddler, Mr. Morgan, and I don’t have time—”

With a low growl, he pushed away from the car.  “I won’t share you and that’s final.”