Perfect Submission

By Roxy Sloane

I’ve spent my life running from the past, but now there’s no escape.
He says he can save me — if I’ll only trust him.

I want to believe him, but how can I be sure?
My choice is ruin or surrender.

Now, I have to decide.

*The explosive final part of the sensual, suspenseful new serial*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxy Sloane
• Release date: Feb 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311155474

Roxy Sloane

Roxy Sloane is a romance junkie with a dirty mind. She lives in Los Angeles with her hot ex-military hubby and her two kids. She loves writing sexy, complex stories about pushing the boundaries and risking it all.

Book preview

Perfect Submission

by Roxy Sloane

This book is dedicated to BC.

Thank you a million times over.

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Copyright 2014 Roxy Sloane

Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ONE: ISABELLE

TWO: CAM

THREE: ISABELLE

FOUR: CAM

FIVE: ISABELLE

SIX: CAM

SEVEN: ISABELLE

EIGHT: CAM

NINE: ISABELLE

TEN: CAM

ELEVEN: ISABELLE

ONE: ISABELLE

I don’t sleep. I’m exhausted and broken, my whole body screaming for a break, but I couldn’t sleep if I tried, not after the worst night of my life.

I’m in jail.

Holding, to be exact. That’s what the cop tells me as he hustles me down a long hallway, the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into my skin.

You’ll be brought up for interviews in the morning, he says gruffly. Guess someone wants to teach you a lesson, sticking you down here for the night.

Cam handcuffed me. My hands behind my back, he drove me crazy with pleasure. It was sexy. Forbidden. But there’s nothing sexy about the fear and panic that over takes me now, feeling these cuffs locked tight around my wrists.

Please, I beg him. I need to call someone. This is all a mistake.

You’ll get your call in the morning.

He comes to a stop at the end of the hall and yanks a metal door open. Play nice with the other girls, he snorts, unlocking my cuffs. They won’t bite.

I look inside and feel claustrophobic. It’s a small concrete cell, maybe fifteen feet square, with bars on three sides. There are five other women sprawled on a narrow bench or pacing the small space. Judging by their clothes and teased hair, they weren’t arrested for white collar crime.

One of them paces closer, Not unless you ask, baby, she coos at the cop. But it’s extra.

He rolls his eyes. Go on, he nods, but I don’t move.

This is just a nightmare, I tell myself desperately. Any minute now, you’re going to wake up.

I said move! There’s a hand on my back, and then I’m pushed hard. I stumble, almost falling inside before the woman catches my arm. Easy, sugar.

There’s laughter.

What’s your name, honey? The woman who helped me leers closer. Her makeup is harsh and smudged, and she stares me up and down with a whistle. Looking fine. Where you working? Uptown?

I can’t deal with this. I’m overwhelmed and living a nightmare come true. No… I mumble, my heart racing. I don’t… I’m not…

What are you saying? She moves closer. Spit it out.

I try to breathe. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, I can’t get enough air. Please… I whisper.

You too fancy to talk to bitches like us, is that it? another woman snorts.

Cut it out, Devonne, another of the women yawns. You know those fancy girls don’t know what the fuck they’re playing at. Probably hit on a cop and got busted at one of the hotels, you know how they do. She gives me a sympathetic look. Don’t worry, you’ll get off with a caution. Maybe some community service if it’s your first offense.

The first woman, Devonne, stares at me another minute longer, trying to scare me. Suddenly, she lunges towards me. With her glassy eyes and the strange expression, it’s obvious she’s on drugs. At least the other women seem sober. I back away into the corner, facing forward so I can see if anyone comes near me.

Devonne bursts out laughing. Fucking pussy, she snorts. They’ll eat you for breakfast in gen-pop.

She saunters back to the other side of the cell. She can think she won, as long as she leaves me alone.

I take a deep breath. It takes everything I have not to cry.

I lean back against the wall, sitting with my knees hugged to my chest on a hard, narrow bench. When I was a kid, I used to play a game to hide from mom’s dealers, or the bullies in the foster homes I lived. I would hide in the smallest space I could find: a cupboard or cabinet, the crawl space under a bed. I’d close my eyes tight, and count to a hundred, and pretend that if they couldn’t see me, then I didn’t exist. It wasn’t real.

Now, I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, but the scene doesn’t change. It’s real, too real. The clatter of bars, and the chatter of the other prisoners. Down the hallway, someone is yelling, and here in the cell, it stinks of urine and vomit. Fear pounds in my bloodstream, my whole body tense and exhausted. But I need to show strength.

This is where you belong.

The whisper of accusation cuts through my attempt at a pep talk.

I try to stay calm. This is all a mistake, I just have to make it through the night here, then everything will get straightened out. I’ll go home again, and never set foot in a jail cell again. But logic isn’t my friend right now.

This is what you deserve, killer.

I shudder at the word, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? I’ve been running from my past all this time, pretending I’m not to blame, but I can’t run forever.

I accidentally set the fire that killed my abusive foster father. I left him to burn in the flames. And I was glad he was dead.

It’s true. It’s all true.

* * *

Time passes too slow, every minute in this cell feels like an hour. The other women eventually try to sleep, slumped sitting up on the bench or huddled in the corner, but I can’t relax for a second.

I can’t let my guard down, and anyway I’m too pumped up to rest.

I replay everything that happened earlier tonight, over and over in my mind. I was so happy, walking into that surprise party on Cam’s arm. My birthday, and I was surrounded by friends and celebration for what felt like

Reviews for Perfect Submission

[Shante Keitt · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved reading this book and would recommend it to anyone !!!