Free Fortune by Annabel Joseph

dedication to fold a thousand cranes.”
    “Getting what you want has nothing to do with cranes,” she said stubbornly. She felt the strangest urge to cry. She looked around the diner to distract herself and was relieved to see the waitress approaching with their food. Kat shoved the crane to the side as the waitress put the plates down between them. As unappetizing as it looked, she dug into the fruit plate, picking the strawberries out from the unwanted melon.
    “What does it have to do with then?” he asked.
    She looked up in surprise. “What?”
    “Getting what you want. What does it have to do with, if not with cranes?”
    “Is that a trick question? Are you trying to mess with me? Why don’t you just eat your whole-grain omelet or whatever crap you ordered?”
    “It’s not a trick question and I’m not trying to do anything to you except get to know you better. See what makes you tick.”
    She looked at the gelatinous cream cheese on her English muffin and took a tentative bite. Ugh, the fat-free stuff was disgusting. The small morsel lodged in her throat. She closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed, trapped and emotional. “I don’t even know what makes me tick,” she said in a tight voice.
    “Maybe if you knew you wouldn’t be so unhappy.”
    She frowned down at her coffee, at the swirly patterns in the creamy film on top. She took a sip, washing down the offending muffin. “I’m not unhappy. I’m just a really private person. I always have been.”
    “Private? Or lonely?”
    “I don’t trust people. I don’t trust—look—I mean—”
    “You’re an unhappy person.”
    She scowled at him. “Simplify much? You don’t understand me because you aren’t like me.”
    “Then explain to me. How can I help?”
    “I don’t want your help. You helped me quite enough. Anyway, why do you care?”
    “Why do you think I care?” His gaze captured hers. That traitorous part of her twisted and flailed to be heard. She pressed her legs together.
    “I really don’t know and I don’t want to know.”
    He lowered his voice and leaned closer across the table.
    “Kat, have you ever heard of something called Dominance and submission?”
    Had she ever heard of it? Ever since their interlude the week before, she’d browsed every D/s site she could find. Not that she would admit it to him. She shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “I know a little about it. A few things.”
    “What do you know about it?”
    “I know you’re into it. That it’s like…spanking…bondage…leather…that kind of stuff.”
    “Sure, that’s part of it, but it’s a whole lot more complicated than that.”
    “Like how complicated?”
    “Sometimes extremely complicated and sometimes not very complicated at all. It depends. When things fall into place between people it can be very simple. If people want complementary things from each other it works like a dream.”
    “How do you know? You’ve done it, I guess?”
    “Yes. Had some good relationships and some bad. But I’ve never felt for any sub the way I feel for you.”
    “I’m not a sub,” she said at once, thinking about the women on the kink sites, trussed and gagged. “I’m not into that weirdo stuff.”
    “I think you are. You want to be controlled, taken care of. And I’d like to do the controlling. You need someone to settle you down, to make you feel safe. You want someone to tell you what to do, someone who knows what’s best for you. You want someone to sweep you up and hold you tight.”
    How did he know that? He was so completely right but she was still shaking her head in denial, unwilling to accept that her longtime romantic desires translated, somehow, into submission to a man.
    “Listen, I know it’s new and different to you,” he went on, his face a picture of empathy. “I know it’s hard to accept at first. You think it will make you weak and helpless when you submit to me.”
    “It does make me feel weak and helpless. It did!”
    He held up