Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Keep Up
BITE ME
1: KATHRYN
2: IAN
3: KATHRYN
4: IAN
5; KATHRYN
6: IAN
7: KATHRYN
8: IAN
9: KATHRYN
10: KATHRYN
11: KATHRYN
12: IAN
13: KATHRYN
14: IAN
15: KATHRYN
16: IAN
17: IAN
18: KATHRYN
19: IAN
20: KATHRYN
21: IAN
22: IAN
23: KATHRYN
24: IAN
25: KATHRYN
26: KATHRYN
27: IAN
28: KATHRYN
29: IAN
30: KATHRYN
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BITE ME
Dom Vs. Domme #1
Cynthia Dane
BARACHOU PRESS
BITE ME
Dom Vs Domme
Copyright: Cynthia Dane
Published: October 16th, 2015
Publisher: Barachou Press
This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
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READING ORDER
1: BITE ME
2: FIGHT YOU
3: SAVE US
BITE ME
CHAPTER 1
KATHRYN
Do you see that guy over there in the Armani suit? No, no, not the balding man with a bit of a hunch. I’m talking about the much younger, much better looking guy who looks like a spoiled prince on the verge of getting his way again.
Yeah. That guy.
That’s Ian Mathers. And I hate him.
Sounds childish, doesn’t it? I admit being around that man makes me feel immature as hell. Whenever I see that smug face, all I can think about is screaming at him that he’s really not all that.
I wish I didn’t have to see him today. I told my dad that this was a terrible idea. Not that the Mathers don’t have their shit together. By all accounts, they’re doing fine, even for an empire ran by a divorced couple and their only son. That old balding guy there is Dominic Mathers, Ian’s father. He’s not a bad guy, I guess. Hell, I really like the ex-wife Caroline. There’s a woman who knows her worth and doesn’t take shit from nobody. My kind of role model.
Somehow, though, those two seemingly decent people managed to raise an insufferable son. See? He’s noticed me. Now he’s coming over here and…
“Morning, Kathryn.” If the man had a fedora, he’d be tipping it. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. How are you doing?”
My assistant sneaks through the conference room door with my coffee. Anita isn’t much younger than me, but you would think a decade separated us from how mousy and demure she is. A lot of people mistake her for my little sister even though I’m the only child in this branch of the Alison family tree.
I take the coffee from her, grateful to have something to occupy my body with. When I’m annoyed I get fidgety, and I really don’t need Ian seeing me anxious around him. We may be on the same side during this meeting, but I don’t need him holding my nerves over my head.
Because he totally would.
“I’m decent.” At least that’s the truth. Things could be worse, but things could also be way better. I only have so much patience in the day. “Are the Andrews here yet?”
Ian looks at his watch, as if that will answer my question. “Doesn’t seem so. We still have fifteen minutes, though.”
I can already tell that this is going to be a long day. The Andrews, a power couple who own multiple properties in the city, are looking to do something with one of the downtown hotels. Just so happens that the Mathers are up the ass of hospitality. So, it makes sense that Dominic and Ian are interested in buying The Grand, if only to add it to the many hotels in their domain.
When my father approached me about it, however, I thought he was nuts.
“Dominic and I had drinks the other night,” he said two weeks ago, lying back in his leather chair smoking a cigar and drinking his nightly brandy. He was in his office, one of the coziest spaces in the family house on the outskirts of town. We’re one of the only billionaire families who keep our roost in the city limits. Most of the others have houses up in the Hills, farther out in the mountains or in other states – meanwhile, they keep penthouses, apartments, and even small manors in the city for when they stay here. I moved out a long while ago to set up residence in the cutest three-bedroom overlooking the river… oh, right, my dad.
Where was I?
“The Mathers want to buy The Grand, but they’re not just going to overhaul it like they do everything else. They want to turn it into a cultural center. Part hotel, part museum. That’s where he brought me in, see? They want to buy the property, but Dominic wants us to help with the remodel and get the public on board. They’re particular about their historical sites.”
Yes, yes, sure, a historical site. Just because a couple presidents stayed there in the 19th century…
“This is a huge chance for us. For you. I don’t have time to deal with this on top of my other projects, so I want you to take control of our side.”
I had been excited at the time. My father has trusted me more when it comes to the family business ventures. Right now I run the show at multiple art galleries, since the Alisons are all about the cultural arts. My mother, before she moved to Germany, used to joke that my father’s family had three hands: one dipped in museums, another dipped into art galleries, and the third one patting themselves on the back for enriching the cultural prospects of the little guy. The most annoying kind of philanthropists.
Regardless, I was pretty stoked to take on a project like overhauling the museum part of The Grand. I may only be twenty-seven, but I have a double degree in business and art history. I am a master of grant writing. I single-handedly, I shit you not, recovered government funding for the local libraries in one of the low-income neighborhoods around here. Nobody else was going to do it, and I wasn’t going to stand to see more kids go without books and educational internet access while the local fat cats smoked more cigars. Sure, I could’ve cut them a check. Except this was better for their long-term bottom line, and I try to be a bit more active than taking a passive interest in donations. I mean, who do you think I am… a Mathers?
“Kathryn,” Ian says as I attempt to turn around and go fiddle in the women’s restroom for fifteen minutes. “I trust that you’re ready for the meeting?”
I look over my shoulder, right into those troublemaking hazel eyes. Ian cleans up well, but I know how much he stinks beneath those nice threads. “What the hell do you think? I haven’t spent the past week piecing together proposals and investments because I’m bored.”