Controlling Interest Read online

  Controlling Interest

  Francesca Hawley

  A book in the 1-800-DOM-help series.

  Mozelle “Mouse” Vincent inherits money, a club and her boss’ son as a business partner when society leader Regine Stuart dies. Torin Stuart knows what his late mother’s wishes were for his exclusive BDSM club, Erotically Bound, but he’s pissed that he’s forced to trust Mouse—especially when her inherently submissive nature arouses the sexual Dominant in him.

  After baring all in a heated, intense scene, Mouse realizes they still have to work together, but now Tor challenges any business suggestion she makes. When she wants to offer education classes, Tor dares her to organize the class and participate—as a submissive.

  To his chagrin, Mouse agrees, but he can’t stand the thought of any other Dom touching her. Suddenly there’s far more at stake than the controlling interest in their club…because love is the ultimate prize in their power exchange.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Controlling Interest

  ISBN 9781419932939

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Controlling Interest Copyright © 2011 Francesca Hawley

  Edited by Mary Moran

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication January 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Controlling Interest

  Francesca Hawley

  Acknowledgements

  To Paris Brandon. You are an amazing crit partner! Thank you!

  To my editor Mary Moran. Thank you for seeing a spark in my writing that appealed to you. I’ve learned a lot from you during the last couple of years and I’ve enjoyed working with you. I look forward to working with you for a long time to come.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Minnie Mouse: Disney Enterprises

  The Magic

  The magic begins with the appearance of the business card. Sleek black print on a pristine white background—unassuming in its appearance. Those brave enough to call the number will begin a journey that will explore their greatest desires.

  Once the call is made, the Operator goes to work. Somehow he knows just what every caller needs, always able to find the answer the caller seeks.

  Callers may be directed to Unfettered, a new club in town, one nobody has heard of. It provides a safe haven for all who enter. Members are free to explore their every desire…even those they weren’t aware of. Little do they know Unfettered will disappear once those yearnings have eased.

  Submissives who don’t know how to handle their Dominants. Masters looking for the perfect sub. People who need just a little push to admit vanilla isn’t their favorite flavor. The card finds them all.

  And once you dial 1-800-DOM-help, anything can happen.

  Chapter One

  “She did what?” Torin Stuart rose from his chair with a roar.

  Mouse was entirely grateful that the lion’s roar was directed at his late mother’s attorney and not at her, but the attorney was unperturbed.

  “Your mother left her controlling interest in your club Erotically Bound to Ms. Mozelle Vincent.”

  “But Mother knew…”

  “Please sit down and allow me to finish reading the will in a proper manner, Mr. Stuart.”

  Tor ran his fingers through his bright ginger hair and glared at her briefly before sitting with a growl. Mouse kept her hands tightly around her purse. He’d been really kind in letting her stay in the townhouse his mother had set aside for her use, but with this news, he’d probably toss her out on her ass. Damn it. She thought she was done with being homeless.

  “Ms. Vincent, shall I continue?” Mouse nodded. “Very well.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “I leave my controlling interest in the amount of fifty-one percent in the club Erotically Bound to Ms. Mozelle Vincent. In addition, I will her the townhouse and all furnishings thereof in which she has been living for the last five years. The estate will pay property taxes for two years, but then, and I quote ‘you’re on your own’. Do you understand, Ms. Vincent?”

  Mouse’s jaw dropped. That townhouse was stunning. Huge and smack in the center of Washington D.C. with a multicar garage. It was located in the historic Capitol Hill district, just blocks from the Capitol building and Pennsylvania Avenue. The place was worth…millions.

  “Ms. Vincent, do you understand the terms of the will regarding the townhome?”

  “Yes, I own it and Regine’s estate will pay the first two years of property taxes then it’s my responsibility.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Is that all? Can we discuss my club now?”

  The lawyer frowned at Torin over the top of his reading glasses, his bushy white brows extending over the frames. “I have not finished. Please remain silent until I do, sir.”

  Tor waved his hand with a sigh and the lawyer nodded. Mouse wanted to laugh at the byplay between the two men, but she was too shocked. What had Regine been thinking?

  She had to have had an ulterior motive for doing this, God knew, she always did. Regine Stuart was always three moves ahead of everyone else…a master strategist. That was how she’d managed to be one of D.C. society’s reigning queens. When Regine spoke, everyone listened…even the president.

  “Ms. Vincent, please attend.”

  Mouse looked up as the lawyer admonished her. “Sorry.” She shrugged.

  “Finally, for—and again I quote—surviving six years in my employ as my downtrodden Jill-of-all-trades and for making my final years a pleasure instead of a burden, I will Mozelle Vincent twenty million dollars.”

  Ice filled her body before unbearable heat melted her emotions. Her jaw dropped, but she was so utterly shocked she couldn’t move. Then she burst into uncontrollable tears. Throughout most of her life she’d hadn’t had a pot to piss in, but then six years ago she literally tripped over Regine Stuart and her world had completely turned on its head. The lawyer rose and approached her.

  “My dear, are you quite all right?” He awkwardly patted her shoulder and she nodded, still trying to cover her abrupt emotional response.

  She hated crying. She hated losing control of her emotions. She hid whatever she felt behind a façade of calm, which was something Regine had always valued in her. And it was something they had in common. Even if the world came crashing down around them, both she and Regine could remain calm to pick up the pieces and move forward.

  Mouse glanced at Tor, worried that he’d think she wa
s being overly dramatic or that she was getting money she didn’t deserve, but he seemed moved by her emotional display rather than scornful. When she could catch her breath, she cleared her throat.

  “Don’t mind me, really. Go on with reading the will.”

  “There isn’t too much more.” The lawyer returned to his desk. “To my household staff…”

  Mouse stared at her perfectly manicured fingers as the lawyer finished. Those nails were a luxury she’d gotten used to with a steady paycheck and Regine’s insistence that she look polished at all times. God, if she had walked past the Capitol building five minutes earlier or five minutes later six years ago, she and Regine never would have met. Regine had given her a chance when no one else would. Sometimes miracles really did happen.

  “This concludes the last will and testament of Regine Stuart.”

  “Can we discuss my club now? Please…” Tor growled as he turned to her. “Mouse, how much do you want for it?”

  The lawyer held up his hand as the remaining listeners filed out of the room, leaving Mouse alone with the lawyer and Tor.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stuart. Your mother left explicit instructions. Mouse…rather Miss Mozelle is required to hold her interest in the club for a minimum of six months. Under the terms of the will, the two of you are required to work together during that time.”

  Tor opened his mouth then closed it again. He stood and began to pace. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and the most amazing ass she’d ever seen. Add a stunning body to his ginger hair and bright blue eyes and he was a package of mischief that made better women than her melt and get silly.

  Mouse looked down at her hands out of habit. Ever since she began to work for Regine, she’d quietly had the hots for Tor, but putting that attraction to the test was unthinkable. First, she was sure Regine wouldn’t have been keen on having her assistant flirt with her son. And second, and most important, Torin Stuart had been seen escorting tall, slender and decidedly beautiful super models around town—his lovers had most definitely not been chunky personal assistants with frizzy, flyaway, boring brown hair and dull brown eyes.

  “Mouse… Mouse, did you hear me?”

  She met Tor’s blue-eyed gaze and felt the blush crawl up her neck. Damn.

  “What?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve had a tough six years working for Mother. Just relax for the next six months then I’ll offer you a great price for the interest in the club.”

  The lawyer cleared his throat, causing Tor to whip around. “Damn it, Thompson. What the hell is it?”

  “Your mother required you to work together to manage the club. If any of the terms of her bequest are violated, the shares will be sold…but not to you.”

  “What?”

  “If the two of you don’t work together, or if you make an offer for her shares before six months have passed, which she accepts, then the shares will be sold to anyone but you.”

  “The shares belong to Mouse. She can sell to whomever she wants.”

  “No, I’m afraid not. If she goes against the terms of the will, she loses everything your mother willed to her.”

  God, she didn’t want to challenge Tor about this, but she wouldn’t go back to living on the streets. She just wouldn’t.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Tor. I have to abide by the will.”

  “I thought you were different.” He snorted, shaking his head. “But it’s always about money.”

  “Says the man who’s always had it,” she retorted sharply.

  Tor frowned at her. “Damn it, Mouse…”

  She waved his words away. “I’ve been careful with my money, but I will not toss your mother’s largesse down the drain as if it has no value. I just won’t.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I can make it worth your while.”

  She cocked her head at him, raised her brows and crossed her arms.

  He opened his mouth to argue then closed it again, turning to the lawyer. “Okay, what did Mother do?”

  The lawyer took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. “If Miss Vincent forfeits her inheritance by violating the terms of the will, you also forfeit your inheritance.”

  “Which means?”

  “Your mother left you the bulk of her estate. Both of you must abide by the terms of the will or you both lose…everything. Your inheritance will go to charity instead.”

  “And my club?”

  “The shares for your club will be sold by this firm to the highest bidder—but that bidder may not be you.”

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “Yes, you are,” Mouse muttered.

  “You just called my mother a bitch.”

  Mouse laughed. “She was and she knew it. In fact, she considered it a badge of honor.”

  Tor chuckled. “You’re right. She did.” Their gazes met, and Mouse felt it right down to her toes. “I can stand it, if you can,” he growled.

  “Stand it?”

  “Working with me at the club.”

  “Oh right. I’m sure I can manage. I was a good assistant to your mother.”

  His brows shot up. “You aren’t the assistant anymore, darlin’ Mouse. You’re an owner.”

  Her belly tightened. She wasn’t just an owner… “I’m your boss now. Aren’t I, Tor?”

  He winced. “It would seem so.”

  “It is so, Mr. Stuart. Ms. Vincent is indeed the primary owner of your…um…club.” Mouse frowned as the older man grew flustered.

  “What’s the name of it again?”

  The lawyer studied her and she gained the impression from the intensity of his stare that he was trying to decide if she was playing some game. She wasn’t. She couldn’t remember anything after she found out Regine left her the townhouse.

  “The club is called,” he tugged the neckline of his shirt and again mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “um…Erotically Bound. It is a rather special sort of club.”

  Tor smiled for the first time since the big announcement. “Special indeed. That’s a genteel way of putting it.”

  “I don’t understand. Is it a strip club or something?”

  “Or something…” the lawyer muttered, glancing at Tor.

  She shook her head. “It either is or it isn’t.”

  Tor cleared his throat. “It’s a private—members only—BDSM club.”

  Mouse blinked then she began to blush. “You mean like whips and tying people up?”

  “Still interested in being my boss?” Tor grinned.

  She straightened. “I can handle it. Can you?”

  “For six months, I can be the submissive.”

  She put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. “You? Submissive? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and the warmth he always hid behind his tough exterior showed through.

  “Smart girl.”

  Why did he have to be so damn hot? And why did she have to want him so much? She’d just received her heart’s desire posthumously from Regine—a home to call her own and the money to live well. Why did she have to want more than that? Like receiving the fulfillment of a desire from a whole lot further south than her heart.

  “Ms. Vincent, I have a message and a letter for you from Mrs. Stuart.”

  Tor turned to him. “Mother left a message?”

  “Strictly for Ms. Vincent. I’m sorry, sir.”

  He lowered his head briefly and rubbed his hand over his face. When he looked up, it was as if nothing had happened, but she’d seen his pain at the rebuff. She wanted to ease it. Even though he and his mother had often been at loggerheads because they were so alike, Mouse had never seen a parent and child who understood one another so well. Regine knew who her son was and had loved him warts and all, and apparently the feeling was mutual.

  “Right. I’m sure Mr. Thompson will give you all the particulars. I’ll see you at the club bright and early on Monday morning.”

  “Mornin
g? I thought clubs were nighttime places?”

  He smiled. “They are. But we get the business done during the day so our guests can enjoy their evenings.”

  Tor winked at her, picked up his long coat to protect him against the late autumn chill and left her with the lawyer. Six months in close proximity to that man was likely to kill her, she thought, staring at the closed door. The behavior he’d shown today was unusual for him. Tor Stuart was typically the poster boy for phlegmatic Scotsmen everywhere, but every once in awhile, volatile emotions swept over him. Like those today. Jeez, normally he was so in control he was a little scary. Only his occasional fits of anger lurking under the ginger hair made him seem human.

  Mouse sighed, turning to Mr. Thompson. “Well, what did she have to say?”

  He walked over to his desk and picked up an envelope. Regine’s stationary. She’d recognize it anywhere. Handmade paper in a soft, warm peach tone. Not too girly. Just classic, like Regine. He pressed a button against the wall and the landscape painting silently slid upward to reveal a flat screen and below it a player.

  “Press here to start the recording.” He pointed. “Open this envelope as directed during the course of the recording. I’ll wait for you outside.”

  The lawyer handed her the envelope and slipped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mouse closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see Regine again. And which Regine would it be? The woman completely in control of herself and everyone around her or the woman in a pain only barely dulled by drugs as she’d been at the end?

  Mouse stood and walked over to the player, pressing play before she sat down again. Suddenly nearly three feet of Regine filled her vision. Looking sleek and slender in a peach-toned designer suit with a matching hat to cover her bald head, which she always called her chemo merit badge.

  “Alone together again, Mouse dear. Your hands are probably itching to begin taking notes,” she chuckled, her voice still bearing hints of her Southern upbringing.