Obsessive Surrender Read online

He was tired of the endless parade of superficial women who wore their beauty like masks to hide their intellectual inadequacies. And he had no patience with those who fell into the other spectrum such as the two attorneys and one doctor he had casually dated, all of whom had been entirely too career-minded; too rigidly into the feminist movement to suit him.

  This girl, as unfinished as she is right now, is the perfect antithesis to all of them. She is young enough to be molded. She’s just what I need.

  His anticipatory excitement elevated as he shifted his attention to Benton Parker, silently critiquing the man, noting the way he sat wringing his hands nervously, in obvious need of a drink.

  Dare I trust him enough to even offer him a job? But no matter if he messes up or not, he is simply the means to an end and that’s all that matters.

  Having made up his mind, Ivan knew he had to tread carefully, to present a tempting job offer, yet be reticent enough to convince Benton Parker he had no ulterior motive, at least until he could feel the man out and see where his head was with respect to his daughter.

  For only a brief moment, Ivan considered the fallacy of bringing someone with obvious mental and emotional baggage into his life; someone he did not know and didn’t even like to the extent that he did know him, but he dismissed the possible consequences as being worth it in the long run.

  But she’s only eighteen and obviously completely under her father’s thumb so I have to bide my time, play it cool and give Benton enough rope to hang himself, as I’m sure he will, Ivan thought as he came over to sit on the chair opposite them.

  “So, Benton, tell me about yourself.”

  “Well, ah, what do you want to know? Say, could I maybe have a drink while we wait for dinner? A scotch, straight up, to settle my nerves?”

  “Dad, I don’t think….”

  “Hush!” Benton told Andrea harshly.

  Seeing Ivan’s scowl as Andrea jumped at his censure and bit her lip, Benton added in a forced contrite tone, “Sorry hon, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  Ivan was well aware of the man’s intent to present himself in a better light. But he had already concluded that Benton often browbeat the girl and now he wondered, does the son-of-a-bitch physically abuse her as well?

  The thought angered him but he hid his contempt as he said congenially, “Of course you may have a drink. Forgive my manners. What would you like to drink, Andrea? A soda?”

  “Ah, yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

  Ivan went to the wet bar, retrieved a soda from the under-counter refrigerator and poured Benton a scotch. He handed them their drinks and settled back across from them.

  “Aren’t you having one?” Benton asked him.

  “I think I’ll wait for the meal. Now Benton, you were going to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Where do you work?”

  “Ah, well, we’re originally from a small town in Arkansas, a place called Toad Suck, believe it or not,” Benton said sarcastically, with a derisive chuckle. “But we left there after my wife died. Moved to Nashville, Tennessee, first and stayed there for a few years before moving on. You know how it is when you get bit by that wanderlust bug!”

  As Ivan watched Benton down the drink in one gulp, he offered a smile as he said, “Hard to believe a town is actually named Toad Suck. Do you know the origin of that?”

  Benton snorted a laugh. “Matter of fact I do. Seems legend has it that men used to suck whiskey until they swelled like toads, thus the name. In the south, we delight in our mythical, down-home folksy tales.”

  “I should imagine it was a quiet place.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. They rolled up the sidewalks at night.”

  “So what made you decide to settle in Vegas?”

  “Well, I decided to come try my luck. I mean, get a job and start over. I was working at a trucking firm here until recently. I—ah—I got laid off.”

  Ivan knew he was lying. He felt sure ‘fired’ was the word Benton had decided to exclude.

  “What did you do there?”

  “I was their accountant. That’s what I do. I’m real good with figures.”

  “Really? Well, isn’t that a coincidence.”

  “How so?”

  “I have been looking for a good personal accountant. Would you be interested in the position?”

  Shocked by the offer, Benton sized Ivan up with a wary eye. He stared at his empty glass, then back at Ivan, conveying the silent request for a refill as he said, “Yeah, sure. But when you invited me up here, you didn’t know I was an accountant. You said you had a proposition for me? What was it?”

  Ivan forced a smile.

  Have to give him credit for being smarter than I thought.

  “I realized I had perhaps crossed a line downstairs and wanted to make it up to you, Benton. I am in the process of hiring for several open positions and thought you might be interested. And now, since I know of your accounting skills, I’m glad I followed my instincts.”

  Benton nodded. “Huh, we never know what’s around the next corner, I guess. So what does the job pay?”

  Ivan took his glass, fixed him another scotch and handed it to him as he quoted a salary far above what he would ordinarily pay, anxious to seal the deal without a hassle.

  Ivan saw the way Benton hid his amazement as he asked, “You pay weekly or bi-monthly?”

  “You name it. Whichever way you prefer.”

  Ivan could tell Benton’s mind was running ahead to the number of chips he could get for a week’s pay, or the amount of liquor he could buy. But what really drew his attention was Andrea’s wide-eyed look of childish anticipation.

  “So, would you be interested?”

  “Yeah, sure I would. I guess you’ll want references and all,” Benton said with a disparaging glance at Andrea that told Ivan he knew the offer would be nixed if that was the case.

  “That’s not necessary. I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

  Benton wasn’t very good at hiding his surprised relief and exhaled a sigh then laughed nervously.

  “Good to know. When would you like me to start?”

  “I’ll get you the paperwork tomorrow and bring it by personally. Where are you staying?”

  Looking uncomfortable, Benton shifted his weight and cleared his throat before admitting, “Ah, we’re kind of between places right now. We had to move out of the house we were renting. So we’ve been just kind of roughing it, staying in the car while we look for a place.”

  Ivan saw the way Andrea’s face flushed as she averted her gaze from his in obvious embarrassment.

  Masking his sudden delight at his good fortune, knowing things were working out more to his advantage than he had anticipated, Ivan said, “I can resolve that. Are you familiar with the Seven Hills community?”

  “No.”

  “I have a home there, in Henderson, Nevada. It’s approximately seven miles from Vegas. Since you will be working directly with me, it would be convenient for me if you stayed at my home. It’s a very large house so you and your daughter could occupy your own private wing.”

  “What?” Benton asked, astonished. “Let me get this straight. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you want us to move in with you?”

  “As my personal accountant, I would prefer you to be in close proximity so we could collaborate whenever necessary. Needless to say, I keep odd hours. So, having someone handy and at my convenience would be advantageous for me. However, you would be more or less on call 24/7. Do you have any objections to that?”

  “No.”

  “And you, Andrea? Is that all right with you?”

  Before she had a chance to answer, Benton snapped, “Andrea does what I tell her.”

  Ivan nodded as he focused on the girl. He saw her bite her lower lip and twist her fingers together. It grated on his nerves to see her cower before her father that way, but he hid his feelings as he said, “Then it’s settled.”

  There was a knock on the door a
nd Ivan went to answer it, stepping aside to allow the dinner cart to be wheeled in.

  They ate in relative silence. Ivan noticed how Andrea dug hungrily into the meal, an indication that it had been quite a while since her last one.

  When they had nearly finished, he said, “How about I take you two out to the house tonight and get you settled in? How does that sound?”

  “That would be great,” Benton said as he finished off his drink and glanced longingly toward the wet bar in anticipation of another one.

  It was easy to see Andrea was uncomfortable and Ivan wondered if she was embarrassed by her father’s drinking or because of him personally, since he had caught her staring at him a time or two with an unmistakable rapt expression. Each time she had quickly averted her eyes, but not before Ivan had recognized her interest in him.

  He silently reminded himself, she is eighteen. Tread lightly.

  “So Andrea, your father tells me you’re almost nineteen. When is your birthday?”

  “The 24th of May. Next month”

  “Nineteen is a wonderful age. I suppose you're looking forward to it.”

  “I haven’t thought about it,” she admitted solemnly.

  Ivan was stung by her dejected acceptance that a special birthday was destined to hold no deep meaning just like, he felt sure, all her earlier ones had not.

  “Can’t believe my little girl is now a grown woman,” Benton said. “Sometimes I look at her and see the scrawny, pesky kid she’s always been, and other times, I see a budding woman. She’s blossoming into a real looker, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Ivan nodded, catching Andrea’s eye and smiling at her, enthralled with her blushing shyness.

  “Yes, indeed.”

  With his attention focused on Andrea, Ivan did not catch Benton’s look of comprehension and avarice as he studied the two of them.

  Chapter 2

  On Loan By the Universe

  Andrea considered their unexpected good fortune a godsend. One she didn’t want to question and perhaps jinx, as she and her father prepared to move into a wing of Ivan’s magnificent mansion that night.

  It was like a fairy tale come true. But Andrea wouldn’t allow herself to think of as permanent, knowing, if her father held true to his disposition, he would ruin this opportunity as he had all the others and have them back out on the streets before long.

  Ivan showed Benton to his room first and then showed Andrea hers. She stepped over the threshold in sheer wide-eyed awe, feeling like a princess, unaware of Ivan’s intense scrutiny.

  “I’ve taken the liberty to have my housekeeper secure a few personal items I thought you might need.”

  “Thank you so much,” she said, her green eyes swimming in suppressed tears.

  “You’re so welcome, Andrea, and welcome to your new home. Have a good night.”

  After Ivan had gone, Andrea put her meager things away and then went into the adjoining bath. She stripped and settled in the whirlpool soaking tub she had liberally doused with the perfumed bubble bath oil she found on the vanity dressing table. The other items, a large jar of body lotion, perfumed body powder, scented candles, a terry cloth bathrobe and slippers, she knew were presents from Ivan and she marveled at the way he had managed, no doubt with just a phone call, to get all these things readied for her before their arrival.

  Relaxing with a contented sigh in scented bubbles up to her chin, Andrea recalled their trek to Seven Hills. They had definitely made an unlikely caravan, consisting of Ivan’s chauffeured black stretch Rolls Royce limousine containing him and his driver, the sleek Escalade that followed carrying the other two men she assumed were his bodyguards, and their bedraggled twelve-year-old, oil-sucking, twice wrecked Chevy bringing up the rear.

  Seeing all the lavish homes of Seven Hills as they’d passed them, Andrea had wondered if Ivan was embarrassed to have them tagging along, especially as they approached his gated drive and were met by a plethora of photographers.

  She smiled to herself, remembering that and how she had thought the whole scene was like watching an action movie. The drama unfolding as the Escalade pulled around the limo; the men piling out to hold back the photographers while Ivan’s limo and their car entered.

  Now, in retrospect, Andrea’s thoughts centered on the wonderful man who had rescued them as profoundly as though he had ridden in on a white charger, wearing a shining suit of armor.

  When she closed her eyes, Andrea visualized Ivan Littlefield that way and felt a burning desire for him with every fiber of her being. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it slipped between her legs, her fingers seeking and massaging her aching clit as she imagined it to be Ivan’s long, elegant fingers seeking to satisfy her sexual appetite and bring her to a heated climax.

  As the water cooled, Andrea’s breathing settled down to normal. She stepped from the tub, dried off with the oversized bath towel and slipped on the bathrobe and slippers that had been provided for her comfort.

  When she sat down at the vanity table to brush her hair and discovered the pearl-handled brush placed there at her disposal, she closed her eyes and envisioned Ivan placing it there.

  He even thought to supply a hair brush for me! He’s so thoughtful and sweet and oh so handsome! I wonder how old he is? I wonder if he has a girlfriend or not?

  Ivan seemed ageless to her, with his perfectly toned body and smooth, flawless complexion, and the most startling thing—those mesmerizing gray eyes that seemed to reach inside her soul. She guessed him to be at least in his thirties, but somehow the differences in their ages only excited her more.

  Maybe he even has a wife!

  That thought bothered her until she rationalized that surely if he were married, they would have met his wife when they arrived.

  Even though she knew she had no right to feel possessive toward her handsome benefactor, Andrea hated to think of Ivan Littlefield with some other woman, while perversely torturing herself with what she considered the stark truth—of course I can never hope to have him for myself. Ivan Littlefield is simply a fantasy on loan to me by the universe.

  That was how she decided to think of him, her prince charming on loan by the universe; the only imaginable truth that fit.

  Even though she was given to fantasies and lived on the edge of hope, Andrea had always been a practical girl, that facet of her personality honed out of necessity by the years spent corralling and managing her wayward father. So these errant, fanciful emotions assailing her now were so foreign, they left her frustrated and confused.

  Crazy you! How could you think for a minute Ivan Littlefield could ever be interested in a nobody like you? She silently chastised her mirrored image.

  Your skin is too pale. Your hair is too unmanageable and your face is far too ordinary.

  Yet, as she found the oversized threadbare T-shirt she always slept in and pulled it on, stretching out on the expansive, silk-sheet covered, retro-inspired round bed, Andrea hoped she would at least have the handsome Ivan as her dream partner. She willed that to be true as she closed her eyes and gave in to the weariness.

  When she awoke the next morning, for a minute Andrea couldn't comprehend where she was and then she remembered.

  She lay stretching and smiling, enthralled all over again as she glanced around the lavishly decorated, modern Ophelia Temptation-designed room and glanced up at the small crystal chandelier hanging above the dressing table.

  I am not still dreaming. I am here, in my own gorgeous room, at least temporarily, in Ivan Littlefield’s home!

  Still warmed by her erotic dreams of Ivan enfolding her in his arms and claiming her mouth repeatedly in torrid kisses, Andrea sighed in contentment before glancing at the Amplicom digital bedside clock. She was shocked to see it was after eight.

  Quickly, she jumped out of bed. She tended to her toilet and then dressed in her worn jeans and cleanest, albeit badly wrinkled top. She brushed and corralled her unruly mass of hair in a ponytail then hurried to the stairs, wo
ndering, where is the kitchen? Am I supposed to fix breakfast for me and Dad or what?

  Their steak from the night before, though sumptuous and fulfilling, had long ago dissipated and Andrea’s rumbling stomach reminded her that breakfast would be a good thing right now.

  As she started downstairs, she was met by a tall, middle-aged, kind-faced woman who immediately put her at ease when she introduced herself as the housekeeper Lydia.

  “Good morning, Miss. Breakfast is being served on the lanai.”

  Andrea stared at the elegantly dressed woman perplexed, ashamed to admit she had no idea what a lanai was or where it would be located, but Lydia seemed to read her mind and said smiling, “Follow me and I will show you where it is, dear. Mr. Littlefield sent me to ask if you cared to join them.”

  “Thank you.”

  Andrea followed Lydia through the elaborate, European influenced living room, through an impressive formal dining area in comparable decor, accented by a magnificent crystal chandelier, situated over an impressive table where twenty or more could easily have been seated, and out a side door to what she deduced was the lanai.

  To Andrea’s way of thinking, it was simply a covered sun porch, but definitely the fanciest one she had ever seen, with its Calamander wood flooring and cherry wood, double based table with matching, brightly cushioned chairs.

  Her glance went to the linen-covered cherry wood sideboard laden with silver platters of an impressive array of breakfast fare before returning to rest on her father and Ivan Littlefield seated at the table, in deep conversation.

  Andrea’s rumbling stomach once again reminded her she was hungry so she helped herself to the buffet, thinking, this sure was a far cry from the sausage and biscuit she used to get at McDonald’s, those lucky days when they could even afford that.

  Ivan stood politely when she approached the table. Her father simply looked at her.

  “Ah, there you are, Andrea,” Ivan said brightly. “We’re been waiting for you. Tell me, would you like a café au lait, orange juice, or perhaps you'd like both.”

  “Ah, I’m not sure what a café au lait is,” she said truthfully.