The Fulcrum, Book Two: The Fulcrum, #2

By Lenaya Fallin

This is a series with cliffhanger endings.

ˈfʊlk.ɹəm: the fixed point, providing balance and power
Life can be tricky you are submissive, genetically engineered and related to spies.
She is a journalist whose biggest scoops can never be written.
The current one is a doozy.
Her brothers are MIA. No one seems to know the nature of the mission or even where it took place.
And she's stuck on a business trip when a chance meeting at the hotel's front desk puts her on a dominant's radar.
She is tired, stressed and frightened for her brothers. All she wants to do is get past Mr. Tall, Dominant and Italian without giving away her submissive nature. Then again, what would be the harm in throwing a little caution to the wind, just for one evening?
Especially once he makes it clear he won't be happy until he gets her right where he wants her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lenaya Fallin
• Release date: Feb 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201992385

Book preview

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

The Fulcrum

This is the second part of an ongoing story with exciting cliffhanger endings. Please read Part 1 before going on. All parts are now available here.

Chapter One 

The floor was spinning under Amelie’s feet. Oh yeah. Breathing is a thing. She sucked in a deep breath, counted four, let it out for eight, and flopped back on the bed. What a bloody mess. She couldn’t have seen where she was now from last night. Should’ve done, maybe. But there was no way she could have predicted this Elim situation at all, much less that it would go so far left. Ammy gave in to the enormous yawn which made her jaw pop. Her eyes squinted at her phone. At least, she’d managed a full night of sleep out of it.   I’ve only been up for twenty minutes, awake after a first decent sleep in...days? Weeks, probably.

After the spanking, he’d held and petted her; enveloped her in the deep satisfaction she felt rolling off him. Elim had definitely loved having her to control and care for. He’d not faked that. Elim left her at her door with a couple of orders for preparing for bed and a kiss on the forehead. As first dates went, it had been almost perfect. It was the perfect kinkily G-rated first date. Leaving her tired, happy, relaxed. All the things she’d wanted to get from their encounter.

And now—

Mossad.

Well, shit.

She rang Calvin again.

Hey, brat. I’m still workin’.

No rush.

What happened?

"He admitted it. Well, as good as. Not the agency. But that he was with an agency. I tried to muddy the waters a bit."

Uh.

I may or may not have implied that Elim—either consciously or unconsciously—clued me in.

Cal snorted. You bad girl.

Hell hath no fury and all that. But still, whatever they're after, i think I compromised him enough that they'll side-eye his intel a bit. Hopefully, something a little less cloak and dagger can come next.

Yeah, at this point you’re just talking to hear yourself talk. Let me put Mistress on.

Are you okay? Jeanine’s tone was concerned, but rage vibrated beneath its surface.

Enough to do what needs to be done to deal with whatever comes next. She stopped her hand midway through her hair, gathering half her locs at the nape of her neck. What’s next?

I set up a meeting with the Colonel. See if he can find out what they were after and whether that helps or hurts us. Get home. Best to talk here, all of us.

Okay, I’ll—.

You’ll get yourself to Burke Lake Airport’s private lounges, ask to be directed to the lounge Cardinal flies out of. Just give them your ID.  Cal has arranged something.

Ammy sighed. God. I’m not going to get arrested, am I?

Jeanine let out a throaty chuckle. No, this is legit. One of his jet-setting dot-com buddies owes him a favor.

With events in motion, she swung her long legs out of bed. Damn. The t-shirt. She still wore the lying bastard’s shirt. The impulses to rip it off, scream, cry, throw things crowded together for a moment. Had she thought, thought maybe, somehow, some kind of way—? She had not gone to bed anticipating she’d had her first and last encounter with Elimelekh Franchetti. That had not figured in her list of possibilities. He’d seemed to want her so badly. She knew men. He had wanted her badly. She fully expected him to beat down her door at some point in the future. A few days—weeks, and her phone would ring. Fool.

She stood before the bathroom mirror and smoothed cleanser onto her already wet face. She supposed you could call what she’d been doing, crying.

First cry of the day and morning ablutions completed; within forty-five minutes Amelie was ready to go. Clad in jeans, a sweater, and her comfiest sneakers, she checked out of the hotel. Five minutes after that she was in a cab bound for the airport. Another forty-five found her moving through the terminal toward the private lounge.

No, not keys. No, not breath mints. Where the heck was her wallet? Ammy rummaged through her bag as she walked. Ah. There. Her fingers closed around it just in time for her to enter the lounge and observe the immediate impact she made on the room. It was as if the axis of the planet tilted, and she was its sole point of attention. Fabulous.

Walking toward the desk, Amelie caught a triple-check aimed at her from the brown velvet eyes of the woman behind it. Sigh. Amelie prepared to finesse their exchange with a smile and her relaxed California charm. Head up, shoulders back, and the Symonette Women’s Signature Sway in full effect.

She let her smile tilt the bow of her lips. Let the sweet persuasion of her voice drift between them; inviting the woman to warm up. While smile and voice said ‘relax, I’m not a problem’, Amelie’s eyes made it clear. She had zero time for bullshit today. Good morning.

Twenty minutes later, she was aboard the cushiest flying machine she’d ever seen; accepting a mimosa from an unreasonably attractive flight attendant named Jennifer. Ammy savored the sweet, tart fizzy goodness; tucked her legs beneath her, and settled in for the journey back to California.

Once aloft, the hubbub of getting up and getting gone, in the past;  handling the consequences of her encounter, in the future; there were no more distractions, no more shields against her emotions. Amelie felt the flames of humiliation lick up her gut, burning her from the inside out.

Burned. She certainly had been. Last night had mattered too much to her to shade it in with today’s knowledge. But even though they’d agreed to one encounter. She’d hoped. Thought she’d genuinely touched him and that last night would not have been the last...night.

Jennifer, she called and the blonde attendant appeared, regarding her with a smile and serious green gaze.

Yes, ma’am?

I’m dead on my feet. Ravi mentioned a bedroom?

Of course, allow me to show you.

From the doorway of the well-appointed bedroom Jennifer asked, Is there anything else I can do for you?

Amelie managed a ‘No thank you’ for the attendant. Managed to wash her face and slip out of her jeans. Managed to turn her music on low, but hopefully just loud enough. And then she fell face down on the bed and screamed into a pillow.

God, she felt so foolish. Emotion broke over her in waves. Rage, lust for vengeance, fear. No—terror. It took her too long to realize the emotions were not all her own. She felt the shift within her. The thing moved, pulling taut the ties inside and around her.

Air. She needed to breathe. Needed to...

There was no slow dissolve this time. This time, she was yanked sideways into hell.

Chapter Two 

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The sense of scent struck her before anything else. The smell of blood and putrefaction with a side of sewage was hard to