(P.S. Layla has watched this clip a thousand times)

***

"Mr. Capaldi. Welcome home," I purr in my most seductive voice. 

Lucas trudges through the door, his 6'4 masculinity wrapped in the shadows. The living lights are off. Only red candles flickers along the edges on the russet dining table.  

His eyes rake over me in my unusual outfit for the night. No sweatpants and sweatshirt. My hair is not in a bun. I'm not hogging my laptop. No. 

I'm in a royal blue button-down that's soft like butter. It's tucked into a black pencil skirt that has a slit in the back, just a little to tease. Nude high heels. Hair up and clipped so my waves cascade down. I framed the shorter pieces around my face. 

I'm such a naughty assista—no, that's not going to work.

I'm a CEO. 

Yes, and he's... my enemy. From a competitor company. But the sexual tension is so real, it's a matter of ego for who'll give in (obviously Lucas, hello).

"Sup, baby?" he asks in a chirpy voice, although his eyes say otherwise. 

Fear. 

"I thought we could discuss the terms of our agreement..." I motion at the meeting supplies on the dining table. Sticky notes, highlighters, stapled paperwork. "In the sex department?" 

"Okay... is the giant whiteboard with the wheels necessary?"

I look over my shoulder at it. "It might be. I also brought my laptop in case we need to look up any videos. You know, for your education, mainly. I'm a pro at this."

"Sure you are." He shakes his head to himself, shrugging off the button-down, which leaves him in a white wife-beater. 

My God, this shoulders are out of this world. I want to sink my teeth and claws into them. I could jump and cling onto them and he wouldn't even budge. That's how powerful he looks. 

"You look beautiful, by the way." He eyes me softly and I melt into a smile. "But I just got home, baby. Can I shower at least?"

"Fine." I roll my eyes, but still giddy inside. "Hurry up, please. I've worked all day on this!" 

"Okay, alright." He kisses my forehead before rushing past into our bedroom. A moment later, the water starts running in the shower.

I gasp. 

Do you know what this means, bitch?

It means WE'RE the Christian Grey in this situation. 

Wow. Alter ego Patricia cackles. I always knew Lucas was submissive. No wonder he likes that silver rose necklace I got on his birthday (aka his leash).

I sit at the end of the table, as Anastasia Steele did in the movie, when my boyfriend walks in like he's auditioning for Italian Step Up. Dark hair over the forehead. Gray sweatpants. Shirtless.

"Not that you don't look delicious, but you could've dressed up," I note. 

"Why? I'm home. Plus I'm going to fuck you later." He sits across from me and slides forward the paperwork. "Jesus Christ. Is this thirty pages long?"

"No. Thirty-eight."

"Great." He rubs his face. "Okay, if we're going to do this, I need food. I'm hungry."

"Don't worry. I got it covered."

~

I help Federico Pupush to gracefully lower the sushi tray in front of Lucas. 

"You're such a dork." Dimples indent his stubbled cheeks. A knee-buckling contrast with the square jawline. 

"What? Maybe he wants to pursue a career in hospitality, you never know." It's not like I can afford real humans like Christian. I kiss my teddy bear's head. "Good job, baby."

Lucas pops the plastic lid on his sushi roll, shaking the little soy sauce packet. Rips it open with his teeth, just like his tea every morning. 

Animal. I separate my chopsticks, enjoying the sound of them snapping apart.

"You start, I'ma eat." He shoves a roll in his mouth. 

"Screw you, I'm hungry too." I dive into my own. 

We eat for a few minutes. Grunting and nodding here and there in mutual satisfaction. 

"Right." I let out a little burp as we finish, picking up the BDSM contract. "Where were we? Oh yeah, I'm going to skip the beginning, 'cause it's just a lot of terminology. Boring shit."

"Okay."

"Crap, I forgot the wine!" I run off to the kitchen, twist a bottle of Riesling open. Pour it into thin-stemmed glasses, just like in the movie. Then carry it back to our table.

"Cheers." Lucas lifts it to mine like a grown-up having a tea party. 

"Are you deeply impressed by my commitment to this meeting?" 

"Oh, so deeply." 

I narrow my eyes at his sarcasm, returning to my chair. He takes a sip, eyeing me over the rim like I'm the steak he's planning to rip into later. 

I clear my throat and read, "The Dominant shall make the submissive's health and safety a priority at all times. Okay. So, I believe this means I will have your dick three times a day. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. Thank you very much."

"Layla." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Take it serious."

"I take your dick very serious, Lucas. What are you talking about?"

He glares. 

"Ohhh, you mean this meeting?" I feign innocence. "Of course, I'm so sorry, sir. Still, I don't think my health and safety should be your priority. You're not my babysitter."

"Who lied to you? I have to hold your hand everywhere we go. Especially in supermarkets."

"You can't blame me for having a good time." I flash a cheeky smile. Last time, I clipped a heart-shaped red helium balloon on the back of his shirt. He shopped around with it floating over his head for thirty minutes. Oh, and the alarm went off when he tried to leave. 

"Here's a good one." Lucas ignores me. "The Dominant accepts the submissive as his own, to own, control, dominate, and discipline during the Term. See? You're my property." 

"I'm not a coffee table from Crate and Barrel, relax. Not to mention, if anyone here is a Dominant, it's me, sweetie."

"Aw. Is that what you think?" A sadistic smile wrinkles his forehead. 

"I don't know, do I think facts and absolute truth?"

"Okay. Keep thinking that."

I sigh. At least one of us has a brain. "The Dominant shall never punish the submissive in anger⁠—absolutely not. Please, take out all your anger. I don't mind at all."

"That's not what it means, dumbass. It means I can't let my temper put you in danger. Which I agree. My mind doesn't think straight when I reach that level." 

"It's cute how you think that's the only time your mind doesn't think straight." I tilt my head in sympathy. 

"It's cute how you keep running your mouth. Keep talking." 

My pleasure. "Okay, next one⁠—"

"Can we go with the flow?" He cuts me off. "I mean, I like how you're taking Mia's advice. But I don't want this to become another obsession for you. It's supposed to be the exact opposite."

"But how do you expect me to do a good job if I don't learn everything?" I frown. "This is how I process information. I can't just wing it. I'm not you."

"Fine." He casts his gaze down. The circles under his eyes darker than usual. 

He's so exhausted, but he's putting up with all this for my sake. I can't do this to him.

"Fine, let's skip straight to the test." I put the contract down and type in the website address on my laptop. "Then we'll skim over the kink list and call it a night. Sound good?"

"What test?" 

I text him the link. "It's to discover our BDSM titles. You read each statement, then either agree or disagree. And it compiles a percentage rank on each."

Lucas quietly begins, phone lost in his massive hands. The long, rough fingers capable of rolling my eyes to the back of my head and call for my ancestors. 

"I love you," I say my cutest voice. 

"I love you too." 

"No, but I love you love you."

"I love you love you too." 

My smile dies at his monotone. "Where's the enthusiasm, Lucas?"

"Hey, Layla? Shut up. I'm trying to read here."

"Rude." I consider throwing my chopstick at him, but it might hurt. Sauce packet it is. 

"Ow!" He covers one eye. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Oh, shit! It was meant to be harmless. "You didn't show enough enthusiasm... my bad."

He blinks repeatedly as if he can't see normally, then grumbles in disappointment. Continues taking the test.

Well, now it's just awkward. I was just kidding. Maybe he doesn't believe me?

I throw another sauce packet. Success! This time it hits his head as it was meant to the first time. 

"Would you fucking stop?" A stack of pink sticky notes gets flung on my forehead. 

"Ow!" I gape, rubbing the pain away. That felt good. "Do you see what he's doing to us?" I turn to Federico in the chair beside mine. "Call the police, your father is going to jail."

"I swear, I'm going to kill you one day." Lucas doesn't even lift his gaze from his phone. 

"Hit me with your best shot." I sing. "Why don't you hit me with your best shot. Hit me with your best shot⁠—"

"Shut up."

"Fire awaaay." 

I can feel the fury simmering in his hunched shoulders. His knitted eyebrows. But the lack of action humbles me with nervousness. What's he planning?

Anyway. First statement.

'I like being forced into submission, much more than submitting spontaneously.'

Obviously.

'I like inflicting pain during sex, and seeing the results of it (marks, bruises, makeup running by tears) afterwards.'

Definitely enjoy scratches and bites on Lucas. But my favorite has to be emotional damage.

'I prefer making the sexual decisions for my partner, as this gives me more control.'

Ummm, I don't know. I don't think I make decisions during sex. It's probably the only time in my existence when I give the control away. Which is why I like it so much when he forces me. Oftentimes, it's impossible to give it up. But when he takes it, I feel liberated. 

Ten minutes later, the results are in. 

95% Masochist (as expected)
94% Brat (how dare this not be 100%?) 
93% Switch (excuse me, what?)
81% Submissive (why are Lucas's test results here?)
70% Degrader (hell yeah)
68% Primal Prey (fine, I am)
29% Rope Bunny (I like the sound of that)
4% Slave (fuck that 4%, it should be zero)
0% Boy/Girl (that's surprising)

"Done." Lucas slumps back, putting his phone away.

"Oooh, gimme!" I dash over with tiny steps to not twist my ankle in high heels. "I'll write it side-by-side on the whiteboard." 

I think I have a good sense of who he is, so this is mostly for him. To learn.

"Oh, no way? You got switch?" His question is surprised and... excited?

Then I finally see his results. 

100% Primal, Hunter (okay, hot)
100% Brat Tamer (damn, daddy, 100?)
94% Dominant (fine, I expected this)
88% Daddy (WHAT! For real???)
78% Degrader (looks like we have competition)
74% Sadist (love it)
68% Master (hahahahaha, no.)
49% Switch (no freaking way)
40% Masochist (there's just no way)

"Are you kidding me?" All air seizes to exist. "Lucas, you're a switch and a masochist? Why didn't you tell me anything?" 

"How was I supposed to know? I've never taken this test in my life." He pulls his chair back and stands up. 

"Still." I cross my arms, my energy dimming. He joins me, both of us facing the whiteboard. Leaning against the table. "Now I feel like I haven't been satisfying you..."

"You're right, you could try harder." 

I smack his arm. "I'm serious. I worry that I'm not good enough for you. I mean, have you been... putting up with me? Do you wish I was acting different?"

"This is why I didn't want to do any of this." Lucas smiles like he finds me endearing. He cradles my cheek, and bumps his scrunched nose on mine. "You take things way too literally." 

"I want to be good enough for you." I sound like a puppy with a broken paw. 

He picks me up by the hips and drops me on the table. Cups my face and kisses me like a soldier going to war. Making it clear how I'm such a fool for doubting what I meant to him. 

"Yeah, there's no way you're a switch." He smirks against my lips. "That test must be bullshit."

"You're bullshit." I push him off. "You're just jealous I got 93 on it, and you're a sad, sad 49. Loser."

He laughs as I get off the table and take a proper seat. Instead of doing the same, he props on the table, twisting his upper half to me. One arm flexes as he leans over, watching me read. 

"Kink list." I read out loud. "I highly suggest you follow along and checkmark your interests." 

"Yes, ma'am." He reaches for his contract and I hand him a pen. He bites on the tip to uncap it. "Oooh, butt plugs. I'm down."

"For your stinky back cave? Or my precious booty hole? I've never even done anal."

"I know, but I want to try it."

"Like a virgin." I sing. "Touched for the very first time."

"You can't take anything serious, can you?"

"Apparently it's a coping mechanism." I grin. "Okay, but in all seriousness. If you want to try anal, I can get a fresh cucumber from the fridge right now. Just bend over, drop the sweatpants. I'll rub some tomatoes on your balls. We'll make a Mediterranean salad."

"Why am I with you? I ask myself every day." 

My giggle cracks his stoic expression. 

"We can start with toys," he suggests. "To slowly train you for my cock."

My eyebrows twitch. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah. I want all your holes." 

So casual and calm, too. I'm rendered speechless for a moment. He continues to stare at me as my receipt rests in his pocket. Like he bought me at a Medieval market for three bronze coins.

Why do I like it?

"Would you be interested?" he asks.

"Y-yeah." Heat bursts my cheeks. "I guess so. If you're interested."

A slow, crooked smile. "Good girl."

I read loud and fast. "Okay, fisting, I'd rather die. Brown showers, that's racist. Cages, if it's for you. Cutting—like cutting ties with bad people? I like that. Electricity, we can't afford it. Fire play, I'm already on fire. Gas mask, if you fart. Plastic surgery, if you're paying. Pony slave, you already are. Saran wrapping, what am I, a sandwich?"

"There's eight more pages of this?!" Lucas panics.

"Shaving, yes please. Sometimes your balls prickle like raspberries—"

"WHAT?"

"Not the size, the texture—"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He flies off the chair to the bathroom. Silence. Then, "THEY DO NOT FEEL LIKE RASPBERRIES, ASSHOLE!"

I fall over the table laughing. "I'm sorry!" 

"Oh, yeah?" He storms out, an accusing finger pointed. "You want to talk about hair?"

"No."

He smirks at my feared reaction. "What about that dark hair on your nipple?"

The gasp that leaves me is worthy of a telenovela show. 

I rise up, covering my mouth. "What hair?"

He cackles. "You know what hair. Gorilla."

"I do not—how dare—Lucas!" Pain stabs my core. It's like the assassination of Julius Caesar. 

"Mhm." He puts a hand on his hip. "Doesn't feel nice, does it?"

I smack the contract across his face. "Why don't you chew on glass? Dick."

"No problem, but I'll need your nipple hair to floss—"

I lunge at him, snapping my teeth at his chest. He flinches, laughs, holds my shoulders back. So I look like an insane chihuaua. I think I even growl, I don't care. I use all my strength.

He throws me over his shoulder with a smug sigh, taking me to the bedroom.

"No!" I thrash. "We need to finish the meeting!"

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do! There are things I want you to do to me that you need to know!" 

"Who said you have a say in anything?" 

~A/N~
Hope you enjoyed this! 

So question, would you be interested in a Book 2? Or are you fine with bonus chapters?