Selling His Mansion: Her Brand Spanking New Listing
Selling His Mansion: Her Brand Spanking New Listing (BDSM Erotic Romance)
By
Alicia Roberts
Selling His Mansion: Her Brand Spanking New Listing (BDSM Erotic Romance)
Copyright 2012 by Alicia Roberts
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Adult Reading Material
Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and above.
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Selling His Mansion: Her Brand Spanking New Listing
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This might be Tracey’s big break.
All her hard work as a junior realtor has finally paid off – she might get a chance to list her very first mansion. Tracey is determined to do everything she can to get the listing – even though she feels attracted to its wealthy and charismatic owner, Derek Wahlstrom, and even though he’s not sure if he’ll sell the property.
Fighting her growing attraction towards Derek is beginning to seem pointless…
Chapter One
When the client told her over the phone that he lived on Clarendon Drive, Tracey knew immediately that this could be the biggest sale of her life.
Clarendon was a posh area, and all the houses there were well-maintained and expensive – a far cry from most of the houses she’d been listing so far.
She’d agreed to meet him that afternoon, and couldn’t think of anything else all day, as she worked through the pile of papers on her desk.
Before leaving the office she took a few minutes to go home and change. She needed to wear something a little different from the average, poly-blend skirt suit she’d gotten at the outlet mall – she needed to look like an experienced and successful realtor, someone capable of working with wealthy clients and listing an expensive home.
So she dropped by her tiny apartment and changed into her best designer skirt, a red item that fit her curves perfectly, while still looking professional. She also changed into one of her lower cut blouses, so Mr. Wahlstrom could get a glimpse of her goods while she was sizing up his home. She figured that every little thing might count.
Tracey needed to make sure that he didn’t consider another real estate agent for even a second. She undid the clip on her thick blonde hair and shook it out. She grabbed a lipstick out of the top drawer and headed back out, applying it in the car.
On the ride over to Clarendon she replayed the conversation from earlier that day. Mr. Wahlstrom had been quite clear over the phone that he wouldn’t want the house to sit on the market very long, should he decide to list it with her. Her long dry spell had been broken by a phone call from a man who was about to give her a diamond to sell during a diamond shortage.
Pulling through the circular driveway placed her car directly at the front door of a house nearly the size of a castle. It was made of old-fashioned field stone with a front porch that wrapped around much of the front of the home and had stark pillars supporting a roof. There was an elegant flat stone path that led up to the home and well-groomed shrubs surrounding it. Off to one side was a magnificent cylinder tower with a peak and a window that was a floor higher than the rest of the home.
On the opposite side and down a small hill was a set of barns that made up the stable and the guest home. Tracey could just see the corner of the buildings in matching stonework.
The stone steps leading to the front doors were easily twice as wide as common steps and not as deep. The porch stopped in front of doors that had to be ten feet tall and six feet wide. There was a large knocker in the center of each. Tracey knocked and waited and then knocked and waited again. When no one came to answer she glanced at her watch to see that she was indeed early for the appointment by ten minutes.
Her black stilettos made clicking noises as she followed the stone path around the side of the home. She passed under a trellis covered with roses and breathed deeply of the scented air. Stepping through she found herself in a garden that could have housed two football fields. Tracey stood for a moment, taking in the plush green sights of the perfectly kept garden.
This was the spot where she truly fell in love. There were layers of rose bushes trimmed to perfection and in full bloom. Scattered throughout the landscaping were several different sitting areas placed near flowering ornamental trees. Some of these little nooks had wrought iron tables with matching chairs, others had bamboo couches with tons of cushions and a small canopy above for protection from the sun or the rain. There were a few large statues reminiscent of the Roman styles, complete with sandaled feet and sheet-like togas.
Tracey wandered through the grounds, looking first at one plant and then at another. She heard someone approaching and turned her head to see a dark-haired man heading her way from the front of the home.
The tall, well-built man who came strolling up to Tracey in the garden didn’t seem to match the voice of the man who had called her this morning to set up the appointment.
The man on the phone had sounded much older – his voice was deep and his words measured. But the man walking towards Tracey looked like he was in his thirties, and his eyes looked amused. The familiarity with which he walked through the grounds made Tracey realize that despite being different from what she’d expected, this was indeed Mr. Wahlstrom.
As he came closer, Tracey noticed that he wore a suit tailored specifically to fit his six foot plus frame. It fell perfectly on his shoulders and fit his well-shaped body perfectly. The suit was made of black silk but had understated silvery pin-stripes that set off his blue-gray eyes.
When Tracey glanced at his eyes, she felt a strange shiver run through her body. It was almost as though he could see everything about her – as though he could see through her body into her soul. Almost instantly, the corner of his mouth went up slightly, and Tracey knew that he’d felt it too.
She glanced away and pretended to admire the nearby flowering plant. It was covered with huge, blue flowers; they smelled sweet and musky at the same time.
Mr. Wahlstrom stopped a few feet away from her and said, “You’ve stumbled into the one area I’d like to see more work done on. What do you think?” His voice was deep and measured in its quiet, calm tone.
Tracey looked around the grounds and then back to Mr. Wahlstrom; nothing seemed out of place here, and she could only imagine what the rest of the grounds looked like. She felt anxious and small in front of this tall, collected man, and wondered if she’d get the listing. She couldn’t help but blush a little, out of sheer nervousness.
“I don’t see anything you should change. Shall we look at the rest of the estate? I’m Tracey Adams,” she said, holding out her hand and trying not to feel overwhelmed by him.
Wahlstrom gripped it in a firm yet gentle fashion while looking her up and down. His eyes were sharp, and though they never lingered inappropriately, Tracey felt as though he could see right through her clothes, and wondered what he was thinking.
He seemed to gather his thoughts in a snap and said, “Let me show you Manor House. My name’s Derek Wahlstrom. If you like the garden you’re going to love the rest of the estate.”
Chapter Two
Derek Wahlstrom gestured for Tracey to head up the path first, waiting so he could follow her in true gentlemanly fashion.
As she walked along, Tracey wondered if Mr. Wahlstrom might have other motives for asking her to walk in front – could she feel his eyes on her, or was she just imagining things? S
he couldn’t help but put a bit of a twist into her hips and a spring in her step. Mr. Wahlstrom was a handsome man and she didn’t mind in the least if he was looking at her.
As they walked back towards the house Tracey noticed more flowers, shrubs and statuary that she’d missed on her way to the gardens. There were bird baths that looked as though they were antiques but they were well-kept and every one of them had a small cherub with a musical instrument sprouting water.
When they reached the steps, Mr. Wahlstrom moved in front of her. He reached one hand out to punch a few numbers into the keypad to the right of the door and said, “I’ll give you access once we finalize a listing price and decide whether or not you’ll be listing Manor House. Do you have any idea what you’ll list her for?”
Tracey looked at him, tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear and then placed her hand on her hip. “There are always numbers bouncing around my head for potential listings, Mr. Wahlstrom. I haven’t even been inside yet, much less had time to pull any comparable properties, if there are any comparable properties for Manor House. So… no I don’t have a reasonable number to give you just yet. I’m sure once you give me the grand tour I can give you a better idea of the number we’ll be working with. I like to do a bit of homework before any market evaluation and I’m sure you know what the market is like right now.”
Derek Wahlstrom almost took a visible step back.
He was surprised at the glib confidence that danced from the lovely woman in front of him. He liked a lady who didn’t mind being a little pushy now and then. In his experience, a woman who was confident in business matters often enjoyed being dominated in other matters.
He cocked a dark eyebrow at the young woman standing on his doorstep, held one hand in a gesture through the doorway and stated, “By all means, ladies first. Let’s get this tour started.”
Tracey turned her attention from the suave man in the designer suit beside her to the entrance of Manor House.
She was impressed by the cathedral ceiling, and the massive lion-head fountain placed in the wall several feet in front of the entranceway. After she stepped through the doors she was standing in a foyer with grey speckled marble flooring and a door leading to the left and another to right. Next to the fountain was an oak door with a circular handle placed dead in the center.
Mr. Wahlstrom opened the door to reveal a massive walk-in closet the size of most bedrooms. There were dozens of pairs of slippers, a few house coats hanging up, and multiple hooks, racks and hangers. Three different sitting areas, small but comfortable, were also placed in the closet. It was obvious at once that this would be a home set up for entertaining.
“Our guest closet,” he stated, as if the area needed an introduction.
The tour continued back into the hall and into the guest bathroom. This room was about the size of the closet they’d just been in, with more marble floors, two sinks, expansive mirrors and another fountain. This time, a leopard’s head came out of the wall spouting water.
They moved through the hall to a large kitchen which was equipped with stainless steel appliances, three full sized sinks and ovens, two walk-in coolers and a large side-by-side freezer. Tracey mentally kicked herself for not thinking to bring her camera with her.
Mr. Wahlstrom said, “We’ve had chefs host meals in this kitchen for their TV shows. Men like Wolfgang Puck and his colleagues have come to entertain different guests in Manor House.”
Tracey looked at him, thinking that surely he must be bragging, before noticing that he’d said it quite casually and didn’t look at all impressed by the fact.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you know any of the history of Manor House?”
Tracey began to shake her head slowly, but thankfully he didn’t seem offended by her lack of knowledge. Instead, he interrupted himself and said, “I’m sorry, how incredibly rude of me. Would you like something to drink, since we’re right here in the kitchen? An espresso, mineral water, ice tea?”
Tracey was pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t offered her any alcohol. Ice tea, on the other hand, sounded fantastic and she didn’t mind saying so. She had a feeling this tour was going to take some time. From the outside the home looked to be close to five thousand square feet but considering what she’d just seen, she was certain it might be closer to six or seven.
She scanned the kitchen while Mr. Wahlstrom made ice tea, and took notes in her binder about the dumb-waiter, the massive appliances and the exquisite counters, before wondering out loud, “Will you be taking any furniture with you or will most of it stay in the house?”
Again, Derek cocked an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by her naïve question. “I’ll only be taking a few heirloom items with me. The tower will be completely emptied, but we’ll get to that when we sign to make the listing official.”
He handed her a tall glass of ice tea, complete with lemon wedge garnish and straw. He gestured to a small serving tray sitting on the counter in front of her – there was a crystal bowl with lemon wedges, one with lime wedges, a bowl of sugar and several different artificial sweeteners.
She looked at him and it was her turn to smirk a little. “I’ll just stick to the lemon, thank you. “
Mr. Wahlstrom nodded as though approving of her choice, and picked up where he’d left off. “My mother’s uncle built this house at the turn of the century as an engagement gift for the woman he’d been dating.”
Before Tracey realized it she was saying, “Let me guess, it ended in some romantic tragedy fit for the start of a haunted house tale?”
“You don’t look like the cynical type.” Derek smiled and shook his head ever so slightly. “Far from a tragedy! My great uncle Vern married Sophia and they lived here very happily. The only tragedy they had was not being able to have kids. When Sophia passed away a decade or so back, she passed the house on to me, her closest surviving relative. All through their marriage, every time they suffered a family set-back, every time they lost a baby or had a miscarriage, Vern tried to help Sophia through her sadness by building on to the home. That last addition was the stables and the one before that was the atrium. Everyone said Aunt Sophia loved her atrium the best.”
Tracey noticed a small fountain on the far wall, in the shape of a zebra rearing up, and said, “What’s the story with the fountains?”
“That’s what Sophia gave back to Vern every time he presented her with an addition.” He leaned in close to Tracey; his chest almost pressed against her side and he sounded half-angry when he whispered, “Do you find that tragic?”
The vibrancy of his voice was enough to make her stutter. He was standing so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, and despite her nervousness, she wondered what it would be like if she leaned towards him, and closed the tiny gap between their bodies to kiss him.
“I-I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you when asking if it was tragic. Sometimes I speak before I think.”
She wanted to move away from Derek as much as she wanted him to kiss her.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a good idea to question everything.” He didn’t look angry, but he was still standing so close to her that she could almost feel his breath on her neck.
Tracey blinked; she tried to gather her thoughts and not back away from Mr. Wahlstrom’s nearly overbearing presence. She almost couldn’t think with the musky scent of his cologne, faint and alluring, playing in her nostrils.
Realizing what he’d asked a moment before, she said, “No, Mr. Wahlstrom. That sounds rather romantic instead of tragic. Would you like me to include it in the write-up? I imagine it could draw a few romantic-minded buyers.”
“You can call me Derek, Miss Prescott and no, please leave the family history out of it for now. Thank you
The next stop was a massive ballroom that was adjacent to the formal dining room. It was covered with mirrors and the floor was a shiny marble that looked as though it had been polished very recently. At the far end was another
fountain, this one in shades of gold, with a giraffe head acting as a water spout. Tracey peered at it closely, and was fairly certain it was real gold. But just to be sure, she decided to walk back to Derek and ask him.
Before the words left her mouth, Derek said, “If you see something that looks like a gemstone, like gold, like anything in that realm; it’s real. My Aunt and Uncle were very well off and loved to spoil each other. Without kids, it was easy to do.” He paused and a smug look spread over his face, “I don’t mind for one second if you put those details in the listing.”
She looked at him for a moment and then down at her notepad. She wasn’t sure what she should write, if anything. So she just made a small note in the margin that stated, ‘everything is real.’
“Since we’re here, would you like to share a dance in my private ballroom, Miss Prescott? Do you mind if I call you Tracey?” Derek cocked his head slightly.
He took a step back from her and held out his hand in an invite.
Tracey looked at the man in front of her, and thought, “Who am I to say no?” For all she knew, it would help her understand the house better and write up the description in a way that’d appeal to people used to private ballrooms. She said nothing and nodding at him, she took his hand.
Derek held Tracey loosely in his arms and turned her in small circles across the dance floor.
There was no music but somehow they didn’t really need it. As he moved her elegantly across the ballroom floor, his hand rested lightly on the hollow of her lower back, and Tracey could feel the electricity travelling from his fingertips up her spine.
They danced in silence for some time before Tracey decided she couldn’t handle the electricity between them anymore, and said, “I really should see the rest of the house. I have a lot of work back at the office, Mr. Wahlstrom.”
“Derek. Now that we’ve danced, I insist on Derek. Sure, let’s show you the rest of the place.” He laughed softly, and it seemed he was enjoying the tour as much as she was.