Brent Parker, a 26-year-old Investment Banker, is a Dom on the lookout for a new Sub. He wants a young woman he can train.
Cynthia Carmichael is a 20-year-old Private Secretary, the only daughter of a possessive and over-protective Diplomat.
When Brent and Cynthia come together at a society wedding, sparks fly.
Brent resolves to give the gorgeous, fiery tempered girl, a wide berth, but he can’t seem to banish her from his thoughts.
Could she be the Sub he’s been searching for?
The day was warm, perfect for a garden reception. The view over Sydney Harbour was breathtakingly stunning. Brent noted, most people took advantage of it by standing at the bottom of the reception venue’s grounds.
“Yoohoo! Brent.” A high pitched voice screeched from directly behind him. His shoulders tightened as he cringed.
Brent let out an audible groan as he turned to watch Melody Wilson totter down to where he stood with his friends, Pete French and Jackson Bligh. The men had been his close friends throughout school and remained so. All three men perused Melody’s body as she sashayed toward them.
“Could that dress get any shorter?” Jack asked, licking his lips.
“I don’t know how she walks in those shoes. How do the heels not sink into the grass?” As the words left Pete’s lips, Melody’s six-inch heels lodged in the grass sending her toppling toward them.
Jack wore her Martini down the front of his Pierre Cardin suit. Seconds later, Pete finished up on his back on the ground. Melody sprawled out on top of him.
Brent erupted in laughter which drew twin glares from his friends. He reached down and assisted a now bawling Melody to her feet. She attempted to attach herself to his chest, but Brent stood her away. He’d had his fill of prima-donna, spoilt, rich brats.
As Brent turned to help Pete to his feet, Melody was led away by her friends.
The three men returned to their discussion, relieved to be rid of her.
“I don’t know what it is about that woman, but she irritates the hell out of me.” Pete brushed grass from his suit.
Brent nodded in silent agreement.
“Is she seeing anyone at the moment?” Jack asked, dabbing at the moisture on his shirt.
Brent and Pete’s jaws dropped open, and they stared at him in disbelief.
“Don’t tell me you would consider going out with her?” Pete asked.
“She might be a good fuck, you never know.” Jack grinned at his friends.
“Even a good fuck wouldn’t be worth putting up with everything else about her. Leave it be, Jack.” Pete warned.
“I agree with Pete on this one, Jack. Melody would run off to daddy if she doesn’t get what she wants and you could find yourself in all sorts of shit. It wouldn’t be a lot of fun trying to convince the Deputy Prime Minister his daughter is a lying slut.”
Jack sighed. “Oh well, one can but wonder.”
“Wonder about someone with a less dangerous daddy.” Brent reiterated.
A waiter offered them fresh drinks from a tray, and all three men helped themselves to a lemon, lime, and bitters. None of them ever drank at these social occasions; they had reputations to protect.
“The meal will be served in twenty minutes gentlemen. A bell will ring five minutes before you are required to be seated.”
“Thank you.” Brent acknowledged.