All His Regrets (Manhattan Misters Book 3)

by Maya Hughes

  "You think it's because I'm not on her level? That she's finally realizing that. Star football player doesn't really mean I have a pot to piss in." A throbbing pain shot through my arm as Killian drilled his fist into my bicep.

  "Fuck! What the hell was that for?" I said, rubbing the spot.

  "Look around you." He gestured to his house, the mismatched furniture and stained carpet. "Do you think she gives a shit where I'm from?"

  "A friend and something more than a friend are two different things. I'm never going to be able to give her any of the shit that those Havert guys can."

  "Who says that's what she wants? She's got to be one of the least superficial people I know."

  "I'm not talking superficial here. I'm talking the cold hard facts that I can't take her out to nice dinners. I can't even fly to visit her when she goes to Harvard. My chances of going pro are miniscule, I'm not even fooling myself there. I'm just trying to get my degree and get a job after, but that house of hers and all that stuff in there. I'll never come close."

  "If you think she cared about all that, then maybe it's for the best that you two didn't work out." He got up and chucked his bottle into the trash. I downed the last of my beer and he grabbed it out of my hand.

  "If you need anything, let me know," I pulled him into a hug, thumping him on the back and he did the same.

  "Thanks, man. I will."

  I left his place and drove around for a while, trying to get my head on straight. When I pulled up to my house the chair in the garage was empty. It meant he'd found his way inside or been picked up by the cops...or an ambulance. The second the door opened his snores rattled out from the couch. I slammed the door to my room and sat on my bed.

  I needed to forget about Frankie. Forget about how good she felt in my arms. How her hair felt when I ran my fingers through it, and how sweet she tasted when her lips were against mine.

  My own mother ditched me. I don't know why I expected anything different. She was out of my league. My phone buzzed on the bed beside me. I'd been ignoring that thing as much as possible. Over ten messages. All from Liz. We'd gone out a few times. She wasn't as bad as Monica, but she wasn't all that different either. At least she didn't have a mean streak.

  My interest level in her was hovering around a two out of five, but I thought maybe this would be a way to get a rise out of Frankie. Get her attention. Make her jealous. But it hadn't worked out that way. She was holed up in classes, after-school clubs or heading right home. Girls were coming out the woodwork even more so now than before. I'd always gotten attention because I played well, but this was on a different level. It seemed that ignoring the girls at school and keeping my head down to solely focus on football and school meant I couldn't escape them. Ignoring them to make them more interested seemed to work on everyone except Frankie.

  When she said she was done with me, she'd meant it. Not a glance. Not a sneer. Not even a frown.

  I trudged out into the living room and picked up one of the whiskey bottles sitting on the coffee table. My dad's snores were even louder than before. When my mom was around, he used to hide these things. He didn't even bother anymore. I picked it up and lifted it to my lips, when my dad let out a particularly loud snore. I glanced over at him and saw the wet spot on his pants. He'd pissed himself again. I screwed the cap on the bottle and threw it onto the couch.

  I didn't need to go down that path. Having a beer or two with a friend was one thing, but this was something else. Maybe one day I'd be able to win Frankie over. I'd be able to win her heart, and she deserved someone way better than my dad. I hefted him up, and threw him in the shower. He groused and grumbled as the cold spray of the shower hit him.

  She might hate me, and I could still pretend that I hated her, but I knew deep down I didn't. I couldn't, really. There was no way I'd ever forget the way she felt in my arms, and it would only be a matter of time before I felt it again. Someday...

  18

  Frankie - Now

  I fidgeted with the strappy shoes for the umpteenth time. I tried to get them to lay perfectly flat against my skin. This is what I got for wearing new shoes on a date. A date with John. That was something I’d never thought possible. But there I was standing in front of my full-length mirror wondering what the hell I was getting myself into.

  As if the dreams I’d been having weren’t bad enough. Jumping into a real date with him seemed like a recipe for disaster. A disaster where I let myself buy into the John Grimsby fantasy I hadn’t had since I was back in high school.

  After a lot of negotiation, I’d finally managed to convince John that he didn’t have to pick me up from my house. I could meet him there. He’d tried his best, but I was not going to budge. Meeting him there seemed like a safer bet. He’d said to dress up like I had for the wedding. That left me a little uneasy. I wasn’t the woman all dolled up for the wedding or rehearsal dinner, just like I wasn’t the one he’d gone to the dance with. In the past decade, I’d worn a dress a handful of times.

  My idea of a great date was hanging out at home in comfy clothes. Wearing the dress, makeup, and all that made it feel like someone else was going on the date with him. I checked the time and ran downstairs to catch a taxi. Inside the taxi, I sent a message to Sasha.

  Me: On my way to my date. If I go missing, please send help. Maybe this is all an elaborate scam for him to finally be rid of me

  Sasha: You’re out of your mind. You’ll have a great time. Maybe have some fun. Maybe let yourself get along with him

  Me: Who said I wouldn’t? I just feel so uncomfortable in this stuff.

  Sasha: Then why didn’t you tell him you didn’t feel like dressing up

  Me: What if he didn’t want to go with me?

  Sasha: ...you are so dense. Have fun on your date. Stop freaking yourself out.

  Sasha wasn’t being much help. The taxi pulled up to the aquarium outside the city and I got out and paid the driver. The parking lot was empty. I slid my phone out of my clutch and called John. Then I saw the big sign across the front door of the building. “Closed for a Private Event.”

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey, I’m here. Or maybe I’m not. I think I might have the wrong place. There’s no cars here and there’s a big sign on the door that says it’s closed for a private event,” I said, turning around, shielding my eyes from the setting sun. Maybe I could flag down my taxi. Getting another taxi out here would be a pain. The door opened behind me.

  “You’re in the right place,” he said, standing in the doorway to the aquarium. My mouth opened and closed like a fish, which seemed appropriate.

  “What? But the sign,” I said, pointing at the sign beside him.

  “We’re the private event. Come on.” He ushered me inside.

  “You rented out the entire aquarium?”

  “I knew you didn’t like crowds and I figured no one would be able to get in the way of the fish, so you wouldn’t miss anything.”

  He remembered how I used to hate that. When had I even told him that? Maybe Killian mentioned it or something. We strolled past the starfish, pufferfish, and sea urchin tanks. With each step I became more aware of the staff who were doing their best to be attentive, but were making me increasingly uncomfortable. There was a glass of champagne in front of one tank. Some smoked salmon at another. Each stop like John was trying to one-up himself.

  Was that what this was? His way of showing off? Trying to show me how far he’d come or something? Like any of this mattered to me.

  As the night wore on, my feet were really screaming at me for being stupid enough to go on a date that required walking in shoes like these. And the more we walked and the more little surprises were around each corner, the less I wanted to go on our next two dates. If I wanted a date like this, I could have gone out with one of the investment bankers from my club. This isn’t what I expected from a date with John. Not at all.

  19

  John - Now

  I’d pulled out all the stops
to try and make it a memorable date. I tried to think of everything I could remember about the things she liked, but it didn’t seem to be working. I’d been happy she even agreed to the dates in the first place, so I figured I needed to make it good, make a big impression on her, but the entire night she seemed distant. Like this wasn’t where she wanted to be. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, part of the reason I’d pulled out all the stops for this date was because I had something to prove, not just to her, but to myself. I wasn’t the scholarship kid from Havert. I might not have hundreds of millions like her family, but I wasn’t someone she’d be embarrassed to bring around those old-money circles.

  Being with her was all I wanted. Making her walk in those heels was probably a bad idea. When I told her to dress up it’s because I wanted the night to be special. Try to recapture some of the magic of our first date and Killian’s wedding. It might have been a miscalculation on my part. Okay, a total fuckup on my part.

  After the strolling tapas we made it to the table. It was set up in the middle of one of the rooms almost completely surrounded by the tank with colorful tropical fish in it. Frankie sat down and grimaced before giving me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I was fucking this up.

  I picked up my chair and sat it beside her, reaching for her feet.

  She jerked them away, staring at me like I was a crazy person.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Relax. I should have warned you we’d be walking for a bit. Let me make it up to you.”

  She hesitated, nibbling on her bottom lip and the blood rushed straight to my cock. This woman was going to be the death of me. I’d have thought most women would jump at the chance for someone to work out all the kinks. After a long time just staring at me, she finally undid the ankle strap on her heels and slid them off. Keeping her eyes on the large tanks surrounding us, she let me pull her feet into my lap.

  I glanced down at her feet and realized why she hesitated. The scars. The angry, puckered skin surrounded her ankle. I ran my hand over her feet, and she shuddered. Something told me it wasn’t because I was such an amazing masseur, but she’d put this trust in me. To show me something I didn’t think she showed many people. Suddenly, I wished we weren’t in this huge aquarium with a skeleton staff hanging around, ready to serve a meal. I wanted to be curled up on the couch with her with some takeout.

  Her muscles were tense as I kneaded my thumbs into the sides and bottoms of her feet. My fingers glided across her skin, and she moaned when I ran my knuckle across her heel. My cock jumped as I remembered exactly where I touched her before to draw that moan out of her. Whenever my hands got close to her ankles she tensed up, so I stayed away, but the questions gnawed at me. This wasn’t the time. I let her feet slip from my lap as the waiters brought out our food. We talked about everything from our favorite TV shows to Killian’s antics over the years. Life would certainly be a lot duller since he wasn’t the Boardroom Bastard anymore.

  Walking her to her door, it felt like high school all over again. Standing in front of a house, waiting for the girl I like to let me in. I walked her up the steps to her place as she fidgeted with her keys.

  “I had a good time,” she said, seeming like maybe that wasn’t completely the case. I hated that I was screwing this up.

  “I did, too. Thanks for coming. And you owe me two more,” I said, teasingly. She had her back to the door, her shoes dangling from her hands. It seemed we kept replaying the same scenes over and over, just in different locations. I stepped in closer, running my hand down her arm. She glanced up and smiled. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I needed to taste her. My lips were an inch from hers when a loud, obnoxious ring came from her bag.

  She snapped out of her lean toward me and fumbled with her bag.

  “That’s my emergency ring for the club. Something’s wrong. Hello,” she answered, in a rush. A round of nodding and raised voices on the other side and the moment was broken.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, not wanting her to have to deal with whatever it was on her own.

  “No, it will be fine, but I need to go to the club now,” she said, rushing down the step and to her car. She was still on the phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said into the phone.

  “I can drive you. Help with whatever it is.”

  “No!” she said, way louder than she intended from the shocked look on her face. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it and I don’t know how long this will take to work out. Everything is fine, really. I’m sorry to end our date like this. I had a good time, John. Thank you,” she said, sliding into her car. And just like that she was gone. Not exactly how I thought the evening would go.

  Throwing my keys on the counter to my apartment, I cracked open a beer and ran over our date. The scars on her ankles. How had she gotten them? When did it happen? Who the fuck hurt her? Those were questions I needed answered. I needed her to open up to me and trust me enough to tell me. She had a story, one I hadn’t been able to see more than occasional glances of, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted it all. I wanted it all with her.

  20

  Frankie - Now

  A couple days after our date, I stood on stage in front of a crowd ready for tonight's show. A couple into exhibitionism had made special arrangements for the evening. She was tied to a pommel horse while her husband warmed up her flesh with a paddle. The sound of smacking flesh was heard over the din of the crowd, as they chatted like they were standing and waiting for a performance art show to start.

  It was my turn to be on the floor tonight. The smells of leather, oils, and the hint of sweat filled the air. I tried to keep this place as clean, but not antiseptic as possible. The health of my guests was my top priority.

  I enjoyed this part of the job, but it still made me antsy to be so far away from my monitors. We hadn't had an incident in weeks, though, so I was less anxious than I usually was. The worst part of working the floor, was wearing my work outfit. Ha! If only my mom could see me, actually she had. To my total embarrassment, she'd come to visit the club, wanting to see what I was up to in New York.

  As I walked from room to room, everyone who worked for me shifted from casually overlooking the room to laser-sharp focus. I run a tight ship. I only keep the best people, and I make sure everyone has learned everything they need to so that our guests have an enjoyable stay.

  I walked past a room where a couple looked ready to try out some of the floggers. The woman was standing against the wall, holding onto one of the restraints. They were new. Only been members for less than a few weeks and they hadn't visited much. Sometimes new people were just new to the area, but from their questionnaire I remembered they were new to everything. And they hadn't been to any of the classes we held here. Everything looked in order until I saw the way the guy was holding the flogger. The flicks of his wrist as he tried to get it to unfurl. Alarm bells were going off in my head and I stepped into the room.

  I glanced up at the security on the catwalk above and gritted my teeth. I stepped into the room and stepped between him and her.

  "Hi, I'm Frankie, the owner, and I wanted to welcome you to Ace's. I like to come in and see if our guests have any questions during their first visits to the club. I see you've got a flogger. It's certainly one of my favorites. Do you mind if I give it a few flicks, just to see if I still have it?"

  He nodded dumbly and handed it over to me. His wife let go of the restraints and turned around.

  "I still remember the first time I tried to use this. The key to doing it right is making sure your wrist is relaxed enough and you're not throwing your whole arm with it or you could really hurt someone. I made so many silly mistakes in the beginning."

  They both stood beside me as I went through the motions, trying to show them exactly what to do so they didn't end up maiming one another. I let them both try a few times until it looked like they got a handle on it.

  "And we have a list of classes here as well as a list of
classes all over the city you can try out if you'd like to learn more," I said, excusing myself from the room.

  By the end of my shift, my feet were an achy mess. I hated wearing the heels. Flip flops, high tops, slippers or barefoot are what I preferred. I unlaced the leather corset and unzipped my thigh high boots, putting everything away in the closet. My sweatshirt and jeans were much more enjoyable. As I slipped on my comfy dinosaur slippers, I fired up my computer.

  There was a blinking mail icon. I clicked on it and went through the few different messages there. A few couples who'd moved away sent messages saying how much they missed the club and they learned so much. A few others were excited about the classes we had coming up or the ones they'd attended in the past. I clicked over to the unofficial blog for Ace's. I tried to put up as much info as I could on the site.

  Everything from which new vibrator had come onto the market and blown away the competition to instructional posts about how to do things the right way. One thing I focused a lot on was rope bandage. There were a lot of things that could go wrong with it, so easily. I rubbed my wrists under my leather cuff. But I made sure people knew which ropes were best, knotting techniques and first and foremost all the safety information they needed.

  A new message came in just as I was about to close the computer. 'THANK YOU' big and bold in the subject line. I got quite a few of those. I opened it.

  Madam Frankie,

  I wanted to let you know just how important your blog has been to my life. I'd always been interested in the bondage scene, but a terrible experience when I was younger made me so afraid, I thought I'd never be able to explore that side of myself.