F*ck Toy: A Dominatrix Enemies to Lovers Romance Read online

  F*ck Toy

  By Sybil Swift

  Chapter One

  “We need to do damage control, Chloe. Get away, relax, and regroup. No one in my family will be treated that way, by any man, do you understand me? Now’s the time to put on a brave front while I pick up the pieces back home. While you lay low I’ll plant some seeds and reestablish your prospects—”

  “Prospects? Has anyone told you this isn’t the 17th century, Mom? I need some time to myself and I’ll be fine.”

  “You haven’t changed out of that—” Her mother waved her hand in the air indicating the worn nightdress that clung to below Chloe’s knees. “—in days and you haven’t retouched your manicure in weeks. You know filthy fingers lead to filthy lives. You’ll have plenty of space where I’m sending you. I’ve already packed a bag and it’s waiting in the car. Stop wallowing and listen to your mother.”

  “You expect to send me away and shove my problems under the rug?”

  “What’s your grand plan? To mope and whine until I push you back out into the world? I don’t have time to babysit you. Do you remember what I had to do when your father dropped us for his younger model and two point five children? You know what it was like for me? But did I let it stop me? Brace yourself for the social maelstrom and take this opportunity because I can’t stand the idea of you sitting in the house for another second. Your emotions are secondary when it comes to bucking up against the nasty, not so quiet whispers of the Upper East Side, do you understand me? If you don’t learn how to put yourself back together again, you’ll never be good enough for them and I’ve worked too hard for too long for you to throw my grandchildren’s legacy away with both hands.”

  Chloe Barrons crossed her legs fluffing a pillow in her lap before curling it to her chest. Instead of rolling her eyes at her mother’s millionth reminder of their broken family and how she’d risen from the ashes like a phoenix with a Botox addiction, she thinned her lips and settled in for the mini-lecture. It would all be over soon. The grandchildren comment washed over her as her fingers curled into the pillow until they ached and goosebumps tingled up her arms.

  “It’s not the same…”

  “No, Chloe, what he did to you was worse than your father. Clearly, we were taken for fools. But don’t think you have to return that engagement ring, don’t even think about it. You’ve earned every cent spent on that huge sucker by enduring his selfish, egotistical banter for three years while he ordered your meals for you and buttered us up. If I could see him now, what I wouldn’t say to him.”

  Funny how when her ex was prattling on about his accomplishments her mother had nearly swooned and had endorsed Eric from the get-go because he came from good breeding stock, knew his mind, and took care of a woman. When Chloe would report back after their dates that he had picked out her meals, down to when she needed another glass of water, her mother had seen his overbearing nature as the “mark of a gentlemen”. Of course, now everything was flipped. Next she would be telling Chloe all of the ways she screwed up by putting up with her ex for as long as she did—at that point, Chloe tuned out, practically strangling the pillow in her lap. She hadn’t been brought up to be rude, respect was a privilege and her mother deserved her due even if her daughter wanted to run away screaming in the other direction.

  There was no walking away when mother was on a rampage, she’d only follow her around their five thousand square foot loft until Chloe acquiesced to everything that came out of her mouth. Never mind the fact that she had no intention of keeping the ring. If anything it would make the start of a lovely security deposit on more online writing classes that she’d been taking in secret since she’d met her ex. Mother had insisted she drop out of school to become the best housewife she could be, going so far as to threaten to withdraw her college tuition.

  In the end, she’d left only because the Communications degree she’d been pursuing wasn’t worth the argument keeping to the path would unleash to stay committed to graduation. Even now the weight was off her shoulders. College had only been a split decision made to keep the wheel of her life turning, to stay out of her mother’s linear attention, and Communications had been an off the wall choice when her mother told her she had the looks to be on television. At least a path in journalism would have been more acceptable than what she really longed to do—even now her fingers were itching for a pen, her stomach tight with swallowed emotions she needed to let out before her head popped off her body and rolled in between her mother’s red back stilettos.

  “Can I at least call Rebecca before you enact your grand plan?”

  Mother frowned, but nodded, her heels clacking against the hardwood before Chloe’s bedroom door shut with a barely audible click. Even when leaving a room she was nothing but perfection. She unfolded herself from her king bed and tip-toed toward the closed door listening for any signs of breathing on the other side. No shadow under the door. For now, she was safe.

  “For once,” she breathed out before scrunching her fingers through her loose hair and snapping up her cell from the mahogany side table. “Mommy’s little girl disappoints again, maybe it will make headlines this time.”

  A sickening twist in her stomach made her nearly drop the phone. Had Eric gotten to the point where he’d called Page Six about the engagement announcement? He’d been in another country for business long enough that the prospect hadn’t even crossed her mind. No, mother would have brought up an announcement. She would have pinned the clipping to the fridge with all of their stupid, plastic fruit magnets rambling on about it until she threw Chloe an apple and finished blending her first whey grass protein smoothie of the day.

  “Hello? Hello? Chloe, did you dial me by accident again?”

  “Crap, sorry, my brain’s all full and rattling right now.”

  “Care to share? You caught me in between my nightly yoga class and date night with Todd.”

  “Oh, like Todd will care if you’re late.”

  Rebecca snorted over the phone. “He’s probably sitting at the table checking his email as we speak, I know. But he brought a new client into my office today, I owe him a freebie.”

  “Anyone worth mentioning?”

  “A new thriller writer, I’ve got a couple ideas for the houses that might take her—hey, don’t change the subject, what do you need? I haven’t heard from you since the news. I thought you’d still be curled up under your comforter with John Tucker Must Die on repeat again. Didn’t you get any of my messages?”

  “You broke my mailbox.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  A short laugh made Chloe tear up before she plunked down on the edge of her bed and her gaze took in the perfect designer dream that was her room. Even her personal space was a shrine to what was prim and proper—her mother’s wet dream.

  “Mom wants to ship me off until the chaos blows over. Thoughts?”

  “Is it an undisclosed location?”

  “Some spa. She won’t give me any more details.”

  “I say you should live it up, babe. It’s on her dime, right?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Maybe it’ll be an adventure? It’ll at least get you out of her clutches until she can prepare a new game plan for your life, right? Maybe you’ll come up with something before she can twist everything around on you.”

  “Rebecca…” She sighed and cracked her neck, unsure of how to address the tension that always threaded through her best friend’s voice whenever they talked about her mother’s questionable tricks.

  “I know, I know. Pretend I said nothing, it is what it is and it will continue until you take control of your life. That
’s all I’ll say about it. Go on her little trip, make her happy, and milk it for all it’s worth, then call me and gush, okay?”

  “Is going to a spa running away?” Chloe’s voice came out barely above a whisper as she glanced out her window over the Upper East Side weekday traffic.

  “We’ll call it a delicately timed retreat, okay?”

  Chloe nodded before she could put her acceptance into words. Ever since grade school Rebecca had been a straight shooter even when they met in the lunch line, informing Chloe of exactly how many calories were in the Ranch dressing she was about to glob on her salad and where exactly all those calories would go when she was done eating. She was more than a breath of fresh air—more like a gale force wind.

  “I got to go, babe. You going to be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Rebecca sighed and made a kiss noise across the phone. “Call me if you need anything and let me know when you get to your mysterious destination.”

  “Okay, love you.”

  Whatever Rebecca said next was stolen away by the street noise and traffic before the phone line went dead. Well, wasn’t that a productive conversation. Chloe stared at her phone, aware the wheels in her head were churning but unsure what exactly she was thinking with the emotional weight on her shoulders.

  When she glanced down at her shabby, slightly fraying white night gown and acknowledged the unwashed tea cups spread around the room a spike of shame heated her cheeks until she picked at a string on her lap. What were her other options? Go back to doing charitable works moving on a life path set by her mother? Or take free time, paid in full, and figure herself out? Where was the harm?

  “You’ve got five minutes to make your choice, Chloe. Otherwise I’m yanking you out of that abyss you call a room and stuffing you in the town car downstairs without your say in the matter.”

  The funny part was that her mother thought Chloe had a voice in the options laid out for her every day. But Chloe took responsibility—she owed her mother everything. Without her mother’s relentless, scrappy determination they would both be crammed in a eighty foot by eighty foot box while they both worked three jobs to pay the rent. Instead, she’d taken everything she could from Chloe’s father when he’d dropped them as if he were ashamed and left them scrambling to pick up the pieces. There wasn’t a day in Chloe’s life that she wasn’t reminded of her mother’s hunt for a better life for her only daughter—the acknowledgment that no matter what happened to them, they would go out with style and class.

  Maybe she needed a little more class in her life? With a sniff, she wrinkled her nose. At the very least, she needed a shower.

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “You’ve got five!”

  Typical.

  Chapter Two

  “Mom, I know you went to a lot of trouble to arrange this getaway, but if you could tell me where I’m going, it would be appreciated. When you stuffed me in a town car claiming a spa weekend, I didn’t expect my trip to last for eight hours. I’m clearly not in the city anymore and you can’t expect me to not ask quest—.”

  Beeeeep.

  Chloe jabbed her finger across the end call button of her cell and threw it across the buttery, black leather seat. How many times was her mother going to let it go to voicemail? There was supposed to be a limit to how many calls a recorder could hold. She’d left a message about every twenty minutes since her mother pushed her into the car for her “spa session”. Whatever her mother’s scheme—it wasn’t relaxing. Plus her phone was low on battery and she had no clue if her mother had added a charger when she’d kindly, well, more like controlling packed for her daughter.

  The black divider in front of her seat that separated the driver and passenger hummed down and clicked into place. Chloe raised her brows expecting some sort of explanation. Or maybe that was too much to hope since she’d been grilling the nice man for a few hours. She was sure the driver was paid well for his silence, it wasn’t as if her mother didn’t have piles of hush money. How was he even awake? They’d been driving most of the night and he hadn’t gotten one energy drink. Although he’d been sure to blindfold her for every bathroom break until she at the restroom and then he’d wait at the little hallway until she was done. Whenever she’d complained he was adamant that the trip was a surprise and it would remain one.

  “We’re almost to your final destination, Miss,” The driver shot her a placid smile through the reflection of the rearview mirror while the divider slammed shut.

  The majority of the trip there wasn’t much else to do but worry, wonder, and twist her hands in her lap until she sensed the early-onset of arthritis. After pestering the driver, Chloe realized she’d have to threaten to jump out of the car all together to get him to stop the car or pull over. Even a bought of pretend car sickness had only earned her a wink. At the very least her mother could have included some books or magazines along with the full bar. What would her socialite mother say if she saw her only daughter disheveled and sprawled out in the back of a hired car blowing her bangs up into the air?

  Bring it on—it was better than the constant state of radio silence while the car sped through the night like a moving prison cell. Unlike normal cars this one had tinted windows making street signs a luxury. Not that it wasn’t illegal, or anything. All other avenues of help were tied up because her girlfriends were being wined and dined by the best of the male species—Valentine’s Day was a popular holiday, go figure. Not one single friend had answered their phone. Probably they were all set to vibrate so their night with that special someone—correction—latest obsession, didn’t throw their marriage plans and fantasies off course.

  “Next stop on the bitter train, ticket for one,” Chloe mumbled.

  Besides, it was early morning by now and all of her girls were probably hung over to boot.

  With no other option but to endure her crazy mystery ride, she could at least indulge in a little backseat wine service courtesy of Mommy Dearest. There was a full bar and everyone else was celebrating, why not enjoy her least favorite holiday? With a quick jerk on the bottle opener, the cork popped out of the pink carbonated wine bottle. She shuffled the bottle opener in her lap scanning the interior of the car for a glass.

  “Ah, what the hell.”

  Chloe pursed her lips around the bottle taking a long, satisfying drag off a rare vintage that her mother had no doubt hand-selected to act as her wounded daughter’s only company. She rolled her shoulders, shaking off a grimace. Too crisp and dry, the wine molded to her taste buds making her smack her lips together trying to get some other flavor onto her palate.

  How much time would it take to ruin the bottle? A silent challenge was struck as the cold bubbles slipped down her throat. Finish the bottle before she reached her super-secret spa destination—or she’d have to call Eric. Another hasty swig and she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. God, the stuff never tasted any better—but it was on now.

  Chloe would rather be fall down drunk than face the disaster of her failed engagement via the dirtbag’s laptop webcam while he was in a third world country. How many times had she watched her ex-fiancé fiddle with the microphone on his headset until he could get the words out? Meanwhile, her stomach had rioted like she’d eaten too many tacos. But she’d held it together throughout the whole ordeal pretending not to notice the jerky, random movements under the table or the peek of long, straight brunette hair from his lap. Or her ex-fiancé’s strained expression.

  She should have known—she did know—but it was better to avoid the situation than face reality. She’d turned the other cheek as her mother had taught her until the truth slapped her in the face.

  Another swig. After two more it would probably be passable that their break-up hadn’t occurred mere hours ago. Nah, there wasn’t enough in the wine bottle to forget the last ten or so hours.

  But there was enough to maybe forget the last couple of minutes.

  Worth a shot.

  “We’ve reached
your destination, Miss. I’ll be back to pick you up in three days.”

  It had only been twenty minutes, but the bottle was empty. Her door was open, the driver looking at her with a mixture of kind indulgence and worry, while she tried to skirt toward the edge of the seat without toppling ass over tea kettle. The driver bent into the car and Chloe gladly took his offered arm with a smile she imagined was akin to the Cheshire Cat it so badly hurt her cheeks.

  But with only a little faltering on her nude ballerina flats she managed to exit the car and remain standing while the driver gathered her packed bags. No small feat as the ground tilted beneath her feet. Well, it wasn’t really ground, per-se, more like a bed of tiny seashells that pricked through the thick soles of her flats. She experimentally crunched them beneath her feet.

  “Huh,” she remarked with a small sniff.

  A large breath of briny, cool air slipped deep into her lungs. The soothing break of ocean waves crashed making her weave on her feet, licking her salty lips. Steps away from the car was a sprawling, sunlit beach calling for Chloe to wiggle her toes into the smooth sand and lay on her back to watch the vivid sunrise. The scenery was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Ah, the sentimental drunk phase.

  “Miss, would you like me to carry these inside for you?”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can do it myself, but thanks—”

  Chloe stumbled on the way toward the trunk where he had been unloading the bags and caught herself against the side of the town car. Real smooth. Five points for the dismount and a lack of a broken ankle.

  “I really think—” The middle aged, well-built driver’s white brows scrunched together as his lips thinned. Whatever he was about to say must have slipped his mind when he remembered what Mommy Dearest had probably paid him to shut up. Nice guy, though. She shot him a thankful grin.

  “Oh, uh, that would be great.”

  Chloe cleared her throat before wrapping her arms around her middle noticing the chill that pierced through her cardigan. With the gorgeous view and her wacky, wine-fueled thought patterns, it was hard to stay on track. To remember that it mattered where she currently was located for—apparently—the next three days, until the kind gentleman came to pick her up. Why did this experience have all the flavor of rehab without any of the fun before it?