Fortune
Annabel Joseph
Kat doesn’t know whether or how to end her six-night-a-week party habit, not to mention her unhealthy addiction to meaningless sex. Then an accident lands her in the hospital. She wakes to find a menagerie of origami figures—and a gorgeous neurosurgeon—beside her bed. The complexity of the paper creations is nothing compared to the complexity of dark-eyed, authoritative Ryan, who seems determined to give her life some direction. Trouble is, Kat’s just as determined to resist his efforts to tame her wild side.
With persistence, Ryan draws Kat into his world of dominance and submission, where quiet commands and lengths of rope awaken needs and desires she never knew she possessed. But Ryan’s intimate, erotic shibari sessions frighten Kat as much as they excite her, for each simple knot requires infinite trust and inspires complicated emotions.
When a family crisis tests their love and threatens to snap the fragile ties that bind them, will fortune ever smile on this unlikely couple, or will fate tear them apart?
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Fortune
ISBN 9781419929786
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Fortune Copyright © 2010 Annabel Joseph
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover art by Valerie Tibbs
Electronic book publication October 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Fortune
Annabel Joseph
Acknowledgements
I must first offer a million thanks and a million cranes’ worth of good wishes to my friends Audrey and Rob, for inspiring this book. There is no other gift like that of inspiration.
Many thanks also to Douglas Kent of www.completeshibari.com for helping with the shibari aspects of this book. In writing Ryan and Kat’s tale, I intentionally focused more on the sensory and emotional aspects of erotic rope play, rather than attempting to create a manual for tying the knots. To learn more about the nitty-gritty of shibari, as well as shibari safety, I highly recommend Douglas’ volumes Land and Air.
Thanks also to Openflower, Fiz, Nemith, CyberKat, Malcolm and Isobel, ErickCique, Grond, Anastacia42, MasterGoliath, FrenchChris, Seer and all the other rope enthusiasts who chimed in when I put out the call for information.
Spasiba to Sascha for acting as my Russian consultant with so much patience and sweetness. And much love to my late Russian grandfather, who called me princess through all those years I needed it most.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Bunco: Joy A. Lopeteguy
Moose Tracks: Denali Company
Chapter One
Kat leaned against the wall of the tiny bathroom, feeling the pounding house music vibrate against her shoulder blades. The beat was infectious. She tapped her foot along with the rhythm, although it might have been impatience that had her toes tapping. Or the pressure in her bladder.
She had been waiting at least ten minutes and the line behind her trailed out the door. She couldn’t imagine how a club as big as Masquerade got away with having two measly bathroom stalls in the ladies’ room. There had to be some kind of building statute about it. Well, there were actually three stalls but at least one was always out of order. Every so often two were out of order and then the line was truly hell.
Marla, the attendant, smiled at Kat in sympathy before turning to spritz some perfume on another clubgoer. Marla was a big lady with a big heart and a big counter full of provisions. Hairspray, perfume, lotions, tampons, candy, condoms. Marla ran a tight ship—no drugs or sex in her bathroom. She kept it clean, pleasant, well lit and well stocked. If only she were capable of installing another five or six toilets…
Finally a stall door opened and Kat ducked in. She hiked up her dress, yanked down her tights and hovered over the seat, squatting rather than sitting. She wouldn’t have sat on a Masquerade toilet seat for a thousand bucks. She imagined they were Petri dishes for at least thirty-five previously undiscovered sexually-transmitted diseases. Blech.
Ah, so much better. Tights up, dress down again. She checked to be sure no sodden toilet paper was stuck to the bottom of her black patent platform shoes. They were her favorite pair, even scuffed up and worn down as they were. She had a habit of attaching sentimental value to anything she owned that hadn’t been involved somehow in some clusterfuck. She would wear these until they died or until something whack happened while she was wearing them. And the latter would probably happen first.
She banged out of the stall to allow another straining, cross-legged girl to rush in after her. She smiled at Marla as she washed her hands. Then Marla’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I got you something. Wait.” The attendant dug in the tote bag beside her stool and whipped out a massive gum-filled lollipop. “I got this just for you.” She winked at Kat.
Ha, very funny. Kat often helped
