"You left campus like a cheated wife and I thought you'd be at home so I rushed right here to see if you're fine. But you weren't here, Arabella Lincoln so who's the guy?" Sally quizzes me after a long speculative speech.

We're finally in my bedroom. She's lying on my bed and I'm still on my toes, unzipping my dress with a smile on my face.

"You don't know him," I answer.

Her eyes widen in glee, seemingly excited as if I've found a potential husband. "But we got Google, bitch. He may not be on TikTok or Instagram, but we can fucking try LinkedIn?" she says brazenly.

I huff a tired laugh. "He is not on any social media. He's a package full of mystery. I mean it, Sally, he can fit a CIA profile, if not some Mafia gangster in a suit."

"My, my, oh my! Tell me more," Sally enthuses as she props on her elbows, curiosity all over her face. "Something out of this world, huh? I wanna know everything about this Mafia CIA Hotshot with 50 Shades of Mysteries!" She sits straight, ears perked up.

Laughter escapes my lips. Sally!

Honestly, I don't know who can't be tracked online these days. I've tried to stalk Adrian Castle to no avail. I wonder if he's really what he is.

"Earth to Ara!" Sally strokes her long manicured fingers painted in black.

"Well, he's just someone I'm seeing—nothing serious." I lower the neck of my dress, strolling toward the bathroom door. Nothing serious with the 100k USD in the picture? Yeah right. "And nothing happened, because I know what your next question is, bitch!" I yell behind the door.

"Did you get laid?" she yells back, ignoring my warning.

I blush, eyes on the mirror. Get laid? Maybe more than laid. All the kinky fuckery in my head surpasses the simple and mundane sex I've had before. Do I really want to explore more about that BDSM stuff he's talked me into?

Why not? My breath hitches at the thought, and my nipples turn into pebbles.

"I'm taking a shower! Can't hear you!" I snap with a grin while stripping my dress off, unready to disclose my shady affair with Adrian Castle.

Sally leaves about twenty minutes later, claiming she has plenty to do in the morning. I go to sleep after a text exchange with Adrian. I started with a goodnight and he responded with an intriguing reply.

*We have a place to go this weekend. Let me know if you can clear your schedule. Dinner at your place tomorrow. I eat a lot.

A chuckle leaves my wet lips. Crazy him! I see he's still online. Sighing, I start typing back with a lingering smile. Why does he want me to clear my weekend schedule, though? Curiosity runs through me.

*Permission to ask about the weekend rendezvous, Sir. Err...is it a request or something you and I know so well by now? And about dinner, I'll have a gigantic pot for you. Anything specific?

It takes a few seconds until I see him typing. Exhilaration makes me roll in bed.

*You ask for permission and wait for it to be granted or refuted, Arabella. Are we clear? I'll let it pass because your offenses have been too many for one day and I wonder how I'll begin to punish you. About dinner, anything with meat.

My breath hitches. How hard can a punishment hurt? Note to self: time to search for possible damnations in a Dom-sub relationship.

*Noted, Sir. If you were to punish me right this moment, what would my stakes be? Mind you, I only stole a kiss from you as my supposed boyfriend. I didn't kill anyone.

His response comes as quickly as possible.

*Easy. Just imagine yourself tied up to no retreat, spanked till ur softer and pink, and fucked for my pleasure. Mine only. Discipline has many facets, Arabella. But it's simply a way to show that the Dom cares for his sub. Now you have to sleep.

"Woah," I hiss under my breath, deep down my curiosity plummets the more he indulges me in his kinky world. "Tied up, spanked, and fucked. Now isn't that too exciting for my own good?"

And as scary as hell?

Sleep, Arabella! With another goodnight to him, I toss my phone aside and bury myself in the warmth of my bed. If his huge body was right beside me, how would my night be? I smile and sigh, ignoring the throb between my legs.

The following day becomes nothing but a repetition of any boring days of my life. I submit my assignment and call a raincheck upon Josh's text to hang out for a while after a few days of hide and seek. I have dinner to make, and a guest to please.

Will this day end better? A heavy breath leaves me as I reach the grocery store. I do my purchase, unsure of what to cook. I have several options. Maybe a simple Italian? Everyone loves Italian. Or something heavy and continental? Men love that.

"Ugh, whatever." I pitch a ribeye steak into my cart and add a pack of chicken.

After running through the dairy section, I'm done. It's a big sin to leave without an ice cream or popsicle in such a hot city as Vegas. I haul a cab home, ready to reign in my little kitchen.

"Are we having a party?" Isla squalls as I unpack the groceries.

She and Jake have just returned from school.

"No, baby. I'm just making dinner," I answer with a flashy smile.

Why? Have I purchased the whole store or something? I wander my eyes on the island and damn! Who needs noodles and macaroni at the same time? What about chicken and beef?

Damn, damn, damn.

"That's a lot of stuff," Jake says pointedly.

"Well, we're putting some away for days to come? We always do that?" I reply but their response is just staring at me. Fuck me! "Okay, fine. I admit I overdid a bit, but it's because I want to cook something super delicious tonight for everyone."

Yeah, that's about right. For Isla, for Jake, and for... him? Well, he's the guest.

"Now go and take a shower, Missy I'll make you a snack if you're hungry," I tell Isla, my hands back into the unpacking business. "Want something, Jake?"

"I have a project. I'll be in my room," he says curtly and walks away.

"Isla?" I ask my little princess who's already dropped onto the sofa, throwing her bag on the rug, and her shoes are somewhere I can easily trip on. "Isla Lincoln! No TV until your homework is done. And please take your stuff to where they should be or else I'm gonna be very angry."

Her cheeks puff but she knows it's a done deal. In the end, I'm the eldest. I'm the boss.

The scent of baked meatloaf overfills my kitchen when I pull the oven slide some moments later. I've decided to go Italian-American for today's dinner. Mashed potatoes and Mustard Brussels sprouts will do for the side dish. My siblings love it.

And Mister Castle? Well, he got his meat.

Back to the weekend matter. I can make the two days specifically open for him. I'm unemployed now, and my siblings will surely go to Sally's since they're planning to have a barbeque Saturday where neighbors gather at their house.

Maybe I can grant Adrian that privilege before my job hunting starts next week. But what is he planning for me? Or for us? Darn, Arabella, you shouldn't be excited for a man who's promised pain to you in the name of discipline! I admonish myself.

Throwing some ice cubes into the jug of orange juice, I successfully manage to finish making dinner. Glazed with maple syrup, the meatloaf is invitingly gorgeous. I hear a doorbell ring as I wind up with Panna cotta—Lincoln's favorite guilty pleasure—for dessert later.

Good job, Arabella. A smile of satisfaction stretches my lips, only to panic when I realize the person at door may be no one but Adrian Castle. Damn, his enormous punctuality.

FYI, bitch! You smell like a grandma's kitchen! Mocks my subconscious loudly and clearly.

"Damn!" I cast a glance at my clothes, a light pink apron still hanging by my waist, and, much to my freaky dismay, my hair is tied up so roughly into a mess called a bun.

Now this is the real you, Ara!

Jake is still in his room, and a bit of rock music blasts the walls. And Isla has gladly defied my No-TV order by doing just that. Lost in her SpongeBob SquarePants daily marathon, I only hear her giggling while muttering some incoherent words.

Does she ever grow tired of watching that thing? Sighing, I reach for the door and screech to unlock it. Despite the self-awareness that I'm shabby and unsexy right now, I still bring myself to smile until I find Josh standing at my doorstep.

"You?" I shoot automatically, very surprised.

"Yes. Ara! Me—the guy you're trying so hard to avoid lately," Josh replies crisply in a begrudging tone of voice. "But yet you have time for some guests at your house." He twirls his neck, glancing back over his shoulder.

And the shock of my life comes when Adrian Castle looms over me, no smile on his face, just as Josh is at the moment. What the actual fuck is happening here? I take a deep breath.

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A/N: Let's see if we can have more updates now. Thank you for your patience.