Wild Desire; Billionaire Little Submissive

r. My boy friend had just broken up with me over the phone and I was heartbroken, perhaps not very much so but it did hurt me. His reasons? I never responded to his touches well enough and

long, happy life with him, that's why I had just convinced my family to invest in his new start-up business. I really wanted to support him after how hard he'd been working on it, and he even said that he wanted to build a company that he could pass on to our future children one day. I believed him. I loved how he had our future planned out, but i never knew I was being deceive. I've done a lot for him to end our relationship this way. It's not fair and it hurt badly. As the maid led me through the long hallways, I realized how confusing the mansion was even though I had been here a few times. I had always thought that it reminded me of a fine arts museum with its cavernous hallways, its marble columns and chiseled busts of famous gods and goddesses. Sometimes I wondered whether Spencer was the only one from his family living in this house. It just seemed awfully big for just one person. However, I didn't want to pry. I once asked Spencer about his parents, but he mentioned he didn't get along well with them. Ever since then, I have avoided the topic. I walked with the maid up the massive and dark mahogany staircase, hearing our shoes echo on the hardwood steps around us. Suddenly, once we turned through another archway, I felt like something was wrong. This wasn't the wing that I was used to with its dark gray walls and black wainscoting when I visited Spencer. I was usually taken to the west wing, but I was being led to the east: a part of the mansion that Spencer had told me to ignore more times than I could count. I wondered why he suddenly changed his mind and instructed the maid to bring me here. My art museum analogy was spot on, as in this wing the walls were full of romantic art pieces that depicted couples intertwined in ways that I had only shamefully fantasized about. They were a bit more...revealing than I was used to, however. As we walked farther and farther down the hallway, and the windows were replaced by dull wall sconces, I felt a bit unsettled. I swallowed hard and peered at the maid with a polite smile, "Not to be rude, but are you sure he is over on this side?" "Yes, Mr. Johnson is waiting for you in the room at the end of the corridor." She was so certain that I trusted her over my own feelings. After all, this was Spencer house, he was free to choose