The ride to Case’s undercover apartment was short, so short that Maggie was still trying to adjust her thoughts to how she could show subservience to Case when they arrived. There was much about him that commanded her respect. His dedication to getting criminals behind bars, for one. His desire to stop people who abused power and trust was another. He was hell-bent on capturing Wakefield, a goal she fully supported.

His kindness was yet another reason she respected him. Although he was forceful in his explanations, he still let her have the final say in whether or not she would go through with this charade. Perhaps she’d get the opportunity to talk with her old friend and convince Amanda to end her relationship with Wakefield.

Now that Maggie had non-verbally agreed to be Case’s submissive, she had no choice but to trust him with everything, and that included her body. From the first “yes, Sir,” she’d begun her role.

When the car stopped with a soft bump against the parking stall curb, Maggie realized the role-playing had started. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Case’s large hand squeezed her thigh. “Thanks. Trust me. This is all going to work out.” There was silence in the car. “Remember, the key is to be attentive to my orders and me. I detest this word, but you need to act as my slave.”

She got out of the car and opened his door. “I’ll do my best.”

Case slid from the vehicle. “It’s got to be better than your best, Maggie. Trust me, I won’t hurt you. I know I’m asking a lot, but it’s the only way we’re going to be successful.”

Standing back, Maggie let Case walk in front of her. The sidewalk was sprinkled with the first of fall’s turning leaves. They were colorful and still soft. She bent and picked up a bright red maple leaf. Red, the safeword for stopping what they were doing. Easy to remember. God, she hoped nothing would happen that would frighten her so badly she’d have to use it.

In front of her, Case waited. “It’s begun.”

She nodded, trepidation fighting her agreement to help Case.

“Kiss me.”

“Kiss you?”

“Without question.”

Kissing Case last night in thankfulness was completely different than following an order. Obedience. She had to do as he said, or be punished. She stood on tiptoe and placed her lips against his.

Case’s strong arms wrapped her close to him. Against his hard chest, she felt safe. “Smile, Maggie,” he whispered against her lips so softly she nearly missed his words. “We’re on Candid Camera.”

In that instant, any hope of normalcy vanished. They were being recorded somehow. Her image entwined with Case in sexual situations. They were working to bring Wakefield down. Gathering evidence. Oh, Lord, evidence. There would be no anonymity. The recording would be used in court, part of public records. The media. Her throat went dry. Amanda, Case, bringing down Wakefield and Steven. She was doing this to set things right, to see justice done.

The game was afoot, as her fictional hero Sherlock Holmes would have remarked. They were being watched. She shuddered as she dropped back to her feet.

Think like a maid , she reminded herself. “May I have the key, Sir?” Without a word, Case handed it to her and she unlocked the door. With a swoosh , Maggie pushed the door open and stood back to allow Case to enter.

Once inside, she hurried to turn on the lights, then placed his briefcase next to an end table. Case collapsed into a rich brown leather chair. A matching footstool was nearby. She picked up first one foot, and then the other, placing them atop the matching ottoman.

“Thank you, Maggie.”

She nodded her head. As far as acting out Dominance and submission was concerned, this wasn’t too bad. She untied his laces and then removed his shoes and socks. “May I get you something to drink, Sir?”

“Beer in the fridge. Grab one for yourself, too.”

She returned a few moments later, a bottle in each hand.

“Sit on my lap.”

Quickly, she complied with his order, handing a bottle to Case as she climbed onto his lap.

“You do understand that there will be times I need to punish you, in order to help you do your job better?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steepling his fingers, as if trying to collect his thoughts, Case went on. “You were a little tardy in your return from the kitchen. As my slave, I expect you to hasten to obey me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Stand and drop your skirt.”

Oh, dear Lord. Somewhere, someone was hearing this, maybe even watching. She swallowed, trying to fight her sudden fear. She had her colors. If Case frightened her, she could use one of those. She had to trust him, didn’t she?

Remembering her goal of freeing Amanda from Wakefield’s grasp, she stood and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall in a soft pool at her feet. After hearing Case’s story about his cousin, her fear for Amanda’s well-being increased. Case wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that, but what did Wakefield do to Amanda? Did he whip her like the women in the photos she saw on the Internet? Did he temper his strikes? Was Amanda able to trust him the way she trusted Case?

“Remove the hose and panties.”

With trembling fingers, she pulled the nylons from her waist, pushing them to her ankles. “My panties?”

He arched his eyebrows and frowned. “Were my directions unclear?”

She shook her head and removed her underwear, exposing the lower half of her body to his perusal. Her skin heated, and she couldn’t look at Case, knowing he could see her intimately. What was he going to do now?