Free La Brat by Ashe Barker

would seem. May I introduce…”
    Eugenie turned. The smile of welcome died on her face.
    Aaron Praed.
    “Miss d’André and I have met before. In England. You look well, Eugenie.”
    His slow, easy drawl drifted across the room, the modulated tones in sharp contrast to her own breathless stuttering.
    Stunned, incoherent, Eugenie could only gape at him. The careful, perfectly orchestrated poise that had served her so well for the last hour deserted her entirely.
    “Aaron! What? I mean, how…? I thought you were in England, in the police.” She stood rooted to the spot, staring at him, incredulous. So much for not wasting any more of the panel’s time.
    “I decided on a career change. Are you ready for the tour?”
    “I, what…?”
    “Miss d’André, are you all right? If you’d prefer a different escort, I am sure Monsieur Praed could assign another member of his staff…?” Doctor Mansouri, her face etched with concern, had come around the table and now touched Eugenie’s elbow.
    “No. Yes, I mean… That is…” Her sophisticated persona lay in tatters. Eugenie could have wept were it not for the absolute certainty that this would only serve to convince the panel that she was in fact a total idiot, nothing more than an overemotional impostor attempting to hoodwink them into thinking she might be able to hold down a responsible position in their pristine, slick organization. Certainly, that was how she felt in that moment, confronted by a man she never expected to see again.
    A Dom she’d loved. And lost in such spectacular fashion.
    It was ironic in the circumstances that Aaron should be the one to rescue her, to salvage her pride. Or maybe he always had. He closed the distance between them in seconds to place his hand under her elbow. “Would you like to follow me, Eugenie? I’m sure you’ll find our facilities of interest—and impressive too. The TFS ballroom holds eight hundred guests, sufficient for more or less any gathering. Smaller suites offer more intimate surroundings…”
    He propelled her from the room, all the while murmuring his cover story of a sales pitch, which she realized was intended to distract attention from her until she could recover her wits. She exited the room beside him to be ushered along the carpeted hallway and out of the executive suite. Once back in the public lounge, Aaron guided her to a low couch at one end of the room. He gestured to one of the waitstaff, and in moments a jug of ice water and a glass materialized in front of her. He poured her a drink and sat back while she sipped it.
    “Better now?” He took the glass from her.
    Eugenie met his eyes for the first time since that initial flash of stunned recognition. “Thank you. Yes. You surprised me, that’s all. I hadn’t expected to see you again.”
    “Evidently. Not so much a surprise as a shock, I’d say. Am I still so terrifying to you?”
    “No.” Yes.
    “Well, that’s good then. Shall we continue?”
    Eugenie was beginning to think there really was no point in pursuing the tour. Even if she hadn’t entirely ruined her chances with that ridiculous display back in the interview room, Aaron was sure to be consulted about his opinion and he wasn’t likely to give her a glittering testimony. She could imagine it now.
    A promising candidate, were it not for her propensity to take dangerous risks and refuse to accept the consequences of her mistakes. Won’t even submit to a well-earned caning. Given to episodes of violence when provoked.
    It was true enough, fair comment even. She had broken the cardinal rule in the submissives’ handbook. Thou shalt not attack thy Dom—especially not with his own cane.
    Despite her fatalistic acceptance that this glorious dream was to end in ignoble failure, Eugenie followed Aaron as he conducted her through the conference and events suite. She hadn’t really listened to his remarks as he scooped her from the interview room so he repeated the patter, drawing her