Wicked Wolff

by Reese Spenser

  After leaving the Asylum, we return to my place because it’s closer. Like the weekend before we can’t keep our hands off each other. I don’t think he realizes it yet, but this is what falling in love feels like. Unbridled happiness and desperation all at once.

  It’s been five days since Dorian and I played at the Asylum. The night was everything I hoped it would be. Setting the submissive in me free was a liberating and enlightening experience. Every choice was mine; he took nothing from me I wasn’t willing to give. The sense of empowerment I gained from this newfound version of myself makes giving up total control and submitting to Dorian’s every command as natural as breathing. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want Dorian. And I’m sure he feels the same way. So, when he cancelled our dinner plans for Monday night I didn’t worry.

  By Thursday the distance between us is growing and I can’t seem to bridge the gap. I know he’s avoiding me; I just don’t know why. My attempts to reach out to him at Gray Wolff Studio and by phone have failed. According to Dorian’s personal assistant, Zach, he hasn’t been in the office all week. And that’s what brings me to his doorstep, I’m concerned about him.

  Dorian opens the door, yet the man standing before me is unrecognizable.

  “How are you?” I ask, waiting for him to invite me in.

  I follow him into the house when he turns his back to me, leaving the door open.

  “Why are you here, Olivia?” Dorian asks, refusing to look at me, no doubt avoiding the pain I’m sure he sees in my eyes.

  “I was worried about you.”

  “As you can see, I’m fine.”

  I reach out to touch him only to be stopped in my tracks.

  “You should find yourself a nice guy because that’s not me.”

  “I don’t want a nice guy. I want the gray wolf.”

  “I can't be your happily ever after Olivia.” Dorian growls. Facing me, his cold dark gray eyes stare back. “This needs to end, whatever this is.”

  “Is that what you really want?” The plea in my voice is unmistakably desperate.

  I step to Dorian when he doesn’t immediately answer, and he takes two steps back.

  “I’m ending this before we become emotionally attached.”

  I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of his words, but my shattered soul no longer recognizes humor, only pain.

  “And here I am thinking we’re already attached emotionally.”

  “I can’t be.” Dorian says and he almost sounds regretful.

  It’s too late to tell myself not to fall in love with someone who’s not willing to try. I fight back tears, determine not to break in front of him. It takes more effort to put myself back together than to fall apart. So, I hold it all in. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me shatter into a million pieces. Without another word and as calmly as I can manage, I make my way out the door. Dorian follows me to my car and I nearly stumble hearing his parting words.

  “You will always be my favorite hello and hardest goodbye.”

  His words feel like an attack, so I continue walking, willing myself not to look back for fear I’ll crawl on my hands and knees and beg him to love me.

  The dam burst when Dorian is no longer visible in my rearview. I’m unable to contain the pain. Gut wrenching tears cloud my vision, forcing me to pullover to avoid causing an accident. I don’t know how long I stay parked on the side of the road before I can see again.

  Friday morning, I arrive at Gray Wolff Studio earlier than usual, hoping to avoid all the eyes that have been following me all week. Eyes questioning why I haven’t been seen with Dorian. Eyes that live for gossip. Jean is leaving my dressing room when I arrive, and I stay out of sight until she’s gone.

  The workday drags on and minutes feel like hours. Dorian is not in his office again today, a bit of information Diane shares with me. I try to escape to my dressing room before she sees how broken I am. Today even small talk hurts and I don’t want to share my pain. I have lunch alone in my dressing room for the first time in weeks. Just a few more hours I tell myself.

  “That’s it for today, everyone. See you Monday.” Joel says, ending a long and tiring day of filming.

  Exiting the set, I return to my dressing room, change back into my clothes and grab my purse. Attempting to make a hasty exit, my plan to escape is thwarted by security.

  “Miss Frost, I have a letter for you.” Officer Coates calls out.

  I don’t have anything delivered to me at work, so I assume he’s mistaken.

  “Are you sure it’s for me, Jerry?”

  He presents the letter to me and I take it after seeing my name.

  “Thank you, Jerry. Have a good weekend.”

  “Good evening, Miss Frost.”

  Leaving Gray Wolff Studio behind, I try not to think of the lonely weekend ahead. By the time I reach home, I’m in no mood for surprises. Tossing the letter on the coffee table, I decide to leave it until later.

  Chapter 19

  Dorian

  RETURNING HOME MONDAY morning after an amazing weekend with Olivia, the last person I expect to see waiting in my driveway is my attorney. Whenever Deacon Rush drives to my home, I know shit is about to hit the fan. Unfortunately, he doesn’t give me time to duck, before he throws the first load of bullshit my way.

  “Carina Channing has been released from The Jamison Institute”

  I’m barely out of the car before each word strikes a shocking blow, rendering me speechless.

  “She came to my office looking for you.” Rush continues.

  Regaining the use of my brain, I instruct Rush to file a restraining order against Carina.

  “I don’t want her anywhere near Olivia Frost or Gray Wolff Studio.”

  Ensuring Olivia’s safety is my top priority, nothing else matters.

  “Should I list your grandparents as well?” Rush queries.

  “That won’t be necessary they’re leaving in a few days.”

  Cancelling my dinner plans with Olivia feels like the only choice I can make. Until I get a handle on the Carina situation, I don’t want Olivia in her crosshairs. Carina has always been unpredictable with a violent temper.

  By Thursday evening I can no longer avoid Olivia. Viewing her on the security camera, I watch her walk up to my front door and ring the doorbell. I’m woefully unprepared and ill equipped to handle the guilt I feel when I open the door and see the pain in her eyes. I turn my back and walk away to hide my pain from her.

  “This needs to end, whatever this is.” The lie burns my throat struggling to stay silent.

  “Is that what you really want?”

  The plea in her voice guts me and I force myself to take two steps away from her.

  “I’m ending this before we become emotionally attached”

  Choking out another lie nearly kills me. But it’s too late to take it back and pushing her away is my only option. I see the moment she begins to break, before walking out the door. I follow her, not ready to fully let her go.

  “You will always be my favorite hello and hardest goodbye.”

  The words enter my head and leave my mouth freely. However, the truth feels hollow in the wake of heartache. I watch Olivia leave, staring at her taillights fading away with distance. The house feels emptier now that she’s gone, causing the ache in my heart to drop me to my knees. After hours of drinking, I manage to briefly drown my pain in alcohol. And it’s not long before I’m paying for my reckless action. My head aches, pounding relentlessly and the ground under my feet seems to disappear. I fall and the drop feels never-ending, until finally, oblivion.

  Rage control my actions, and I’m less than gentle, punishing Olivia. I pound into her body as memories of Carina warps my reality.

  “You’re too damaged, too broken inside for someone as good as Olivia.” Carina taunts me maliciously. You’re too depraved to love or to be loved. You can’t have Olivia.”

  My vision tunnels until all I see is Carina and the need to punish h
er.

  I awake physically sick after a disturbing nightmare. Picking myself up from the floor, I race to the nearest bathroom. My body convulses in pain, expelling the liquid contents of my stomach. Climbing the stairs, I make my way to the master suite. Entering the bedroom, I manage to undress and crawl into the shower. Hot water sprays my skin, but it’s unable to wash away fifteen years of shame or the pain of losing Olivia.

  It’s been five days since my world imploded. And I’ve been in survival mode since, preparing myself for the fallout after a disaster. Carina’s release from the mental institution and her repeated attempts to reach out to me qualifies as a disaster. She was institutionalized seven months ago after attempting to take her life. Before then I hadn’t heard from her in thirteen years.

  She was my only family and then one day she was gone. The note she left had two simple words, ‘I’m sorry.’ A few days after she left, I found out she had been embezzling from me. I lived in shame, fearing someone would discover my secret. I didn’t want another guardian, so emancipation gave me another option. I’ve been on my own ever since.

  Memories of Carina plague my thoughts, transporting my mind to another time. She gave life to something dark in me. Now that darkness threatens to block out the sunshine.

  One night of darkness changed me forever, made me into the man I am today. One day of sunlight has changed me again, made me into a man I no longer recognize. I found a way to survive the darkness, but I don’t think I can live without my sunshine.

  Seeking refuge at the Asylum, I plan to submerge myself in something wicked, gorge myself on debauchery and maybe then I’ll forget what I’ve lost.

  “What brings you out tonight?” Colin asks

  “The same thing that brings you out.” My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears.

  Colin take the seat next to me, observing me closely.

  “How are things with Olivia?”

  “Everyone leaves, it's taught me to take what I want and leave before I'm left.”

  “You broke up with her?” Colin queries.

  I nod, unable to bring myself to speak the words.

  “What’s changed, Dorian?” Colin persists. “I know you really like her.”

  “And I like me better when I’m with her,” I confess to Colin. “But she’s rainbows and sunshine and I’m the fucking gray cloud before a hurricane. How can I expect her to stand in the storm?”

  “Did you give her a choice?”

  “How can I give her what I don’t have?”

  “You always have a choice, Dorian.” I hear the frustration in Colin’s voice, coming from a place of friendship. “You can choose happiness with Olivia, or you can choose a life of misery without her.”

  “Carina is back.”

  Saying her name out loud feels foreign to me. After she left, Colin and I met in England more than a decade ago, and he has been the only person I’ve confided in. Telling him about my experience with Carina, gave me a better understanding of my needs. I was alone and lonely, unable to relate socially with girls my age. He befriended me, becoming my mentor. Taking him up on his invitation to join a BDSM club was the best decision I ever made. I finally had a place where I could socialize with likeminded people. A place where my sexual proclivities weren’t judged. By the time I was nineteen I had immersed myself so deeply in kink and debauchery, the BDSM lifestyle was all I knew. Until Olivia.

  “What does she want?” Colin’s question brings me back to the present.

  “I don’t know, but she’s been trying to contact me since being released from a mental institution.”

  “What the fuck!” Colin exclaims. “Why was she institutionalized?”

  “She tried to kill herself seven months ago.” I take a drink; the scotch slides down my throat and I pause to enjoy it. “According to Dr. Jamison, she wants me to know she’s better.”

  “She can’t seriously expect you to welcome her back with open arms.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what she expects. She’s dead to me.”

  My words convey the anger I still harbor for the woman who sexually and physically abused me. Over the years Colin has suggested that I see a therapist. ‘It’s not a weakness to ask for help.’ He has said to me more than once. I’m self-aware enough to know, to move past what happen to me, I need to forgive myself. I’m just not sure I can do that. The abuse went on because in my twisted fucked up mind, I wanted Carina. The shame and confusion over the guilt and pleasure I felt still haunts me and so does she.

  Chapter 20

  Olivia

  KYLE WALKS ME TO MY door after we return from the California Wine Festival. And I let him kiss me goodnight, a part of me is tempted to take him to my bed, but then I remember it’s also Dorian’s bed. Pushing Kyle away, I apologize for misleading him. I apologize for using him as a distraction to take my mind off Dorian and my fractured heart. It isn’t fair to Kyle to accept his attention, when it’s obvious he wants more than I can give.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  Kyle stares at me for a moment, lost in his own needs.

  “You love him?” Kyle words are both a question and a statement of fact.

  “Yes, I love him.” Confessing the truth of my feelings for Dorian out loud, shatters me.

  Kyle draws me close to his chest, attempting to comfort me. But all that remains are the broken pieces of my heart.

  “A man who deliberately awakens a woman’s love with no intentions of loving her in return, is a coward.” Kyle whispers.

  I don’t have the strength to defend Dorian’s action. However, I do intend to find out what he’s afraid of. I get myself under control and step out of Kyle’s embrace.

  “Thank you for a lovely day and a shoulder to cry on.” My attempt at humor falls flat.

  “You wouldn’t be crying if you were mine.,” Kyle asserts. “Maybe one day you’ll realize Wolff isn’t worth your tears. Until then my shoulder is yours.”

  Kyle lowers his head, giving me a tender kiss on the lips, before walking away.

  I open the door of my condo, letting myself in. Turning on the lights, I disarm the security system before resetting it again. The living room is as far as I go. My bedroom holds too many memories of Dorian, so I’ve been sleeping on the couch. It’s not the best place for a good night’s sleep, but then again, I’m not sleeping much these days. It’s been more than a week without a word from Dorian; still I’m unable to move on. The pain is too fresh and the love I feel is much too deep to forget in nine days.

  Settling in for the night, I spot the unopened letter I tossed aside the day after Dorian ended our relationship. Curiosity gets the best of me and I reach for it. I rip the seal open, dumping the contents on the coffee table. A handwritten letter falls out. I don’t recognize the handwriting, but the first line captures my attention.

  HE’S MINE.

  How can you have a happily ever after without a villain? The villain is as much a part of the love story as the lovers. But how do you become a villain? I’m not sure. It was never my intention. It’s not like I took notes in Villain 101. Whether you believe villains are born or made, it doesn’t matter. Imagine any villain. I will assume you don’t know any in real life. Let’s take Hans Gruber for example, one of the most iconic villains ever to grace the big screen. What was the thing that changed his life to lead him down the path of villainy? Is it when you lose a job, a home, a child or a spouse? What I do know is, I was happy once upon a time. Then I lost everything. I blamed the world, but most of all I blamed him. The Wolff sent to me by strangers. They expected me to care for him. And I did, for a little while. Until one desperate act and the wicked games that followed changed us both. I thought you might want to know my side of the story. At the age of seventeen I began an affair with a married man. When I told him I was pregnant, he told me it wasn't his and ended the affair. Desperate and ashamed I wanted to die. But I chose to run away instead. I guess you can say that’s how I lost my home. I always intended to return
but the shame never went away. I thought putting my son up for adoption would get rid of the shame and I could start a new life for myself. I was wrong, losing my child, weeks before he was due, tore a hole in my soul. But life must go on and soon I fell in love. I married a man I adored and adored me equally. I thought life couldn't get any better. We had a few years of blissful coupledom before tragedy came calling. My husband’s sister and brother in law died in a plane crash. Taking custody of their son was an easy decision for my husband. His family was in need, and he loved the boy like his own son. The child was gifted and beautiful and it wasn't hard to see why fame came so easy for him. We poured all our time into his career. Building a brand, a legacy his parents would be proud of. My husband seemed to lose sight of our dreams the more successful his nephew became. Tragedy struck again when my husband died, leaving me alone to take care of the boy. I felt bad for him losing his family one after the other. His grandparents were in no position to take on the demands of his career, so it was up to me, his aunt. The more I missed my husband the more I blamed the boy and his damn career. I blamed the pilot for crashing the goddamn plane and I blamed his parents for deciding to take an earlier flight. All that hatred had to go somewhere so I took it out on the boy. It started with a slap across his face when he forgot the lines when we read for his audition. I'd never felt so much power and so in control. The feeling was addictive and although I knew it was wrong, I found reasons to hit him to feed my need for control. I always apologized and like the good boy he was, he always accepted. One night it all changed again. We had gotten home after a wrap party. He was exhausted, and I was tipsy. I don't know why I began to tease him about the older actress I saw him kissing. At fourteen he was mature and could easily pass for older. As I teased him about the kiss and his virginity, he became embarrassed. I noticed how hard his cock was, thinking of her. Anger filled me, and a blinding rage propelled me, I struck him so hard he stumbled, falling to the floor. I straddled him, pinning him to the floor as he tried to catch his breath. Ripping and clawing at his body, buttons from his shirt flew across the room. I freed his still hard cock and guided it into my pussy. I was momentarily appalled by my actions. But the feel of him inside me suppressed my guilt and shame. I wanted this. I wanted him. I rode his cock mercilessly, his body responded of its own volition even as tears flowed down his cheeks. I closed my eyes so as not to see his face. His release filled me as I found my own. Without a word, I got up and headed to my bedroom. Moments later I heard his muffled sobs, then the running water from the shower. I knew that this couldn’t happen again, but I so wanted it to. I was thirty-four years old. Still capable of getting a man if I wanted one. It had been three years without my husband and no man had been able to satisfy me. Until his nephew. Until my nephew. Until Dorian. I made a mistake when I left him, and we have suffered for it. You may think you know the real Dorian Wolff, but I know him better. He’s my family, my creation and my Wicked Wolff. When I reclaim him, there will be no place for you in his life. I’m all he needs, and he will know it soon. CC