“Hmm,” I murmured. What she called progress and what I called progress were entirely different things.
As if noticing her clipped response, she placed a hand on my knee, gave it a light squeeze, and smiled at me.
“It will be okay,” she said, adapting a softer tone. “Like I said in the email, just try to keep an open mind today. In fact, both of us need to take a different approach to this. We can find a middle ground here. I know we can.”
“Perhaps.”
Or perhaps we scratch the whole fucking thing.
I glanced down at her hand resting on my knee. The passing street lights glinted off the diamond and sapphire ring that I placed on her delicate finger nearly two months earlier, a symbol that she would soon be mine. All mine.
It was strange to think about my life before meeting her. I was successful and wealthy, having never once dreamed of settling for just one woman. From clubs to subs, jumping from one woman to the next had simply been easier. It meant no emotional attachments and a hell of a lot less risk. Until death do us part was never once on my radar.
Until I met Krystina.
She made me realize how dull and mundane my life had actually been. When I proposed marriage to her, she truly shocked me by saying yes. I expected her to put me off or question it in typical Krystina-like fashion. I assumed I would have to work to get her to see my way of thinking, but she had barely put up any sort of resistance whatsoever. She simply said yes. In that moment, I was the happiest man alive.
I was still somewhat astounded by my sudden urgency to settle down, but it wasn’t an unwelcomed feeling. After our chance meeting in a grocery store, she sent my world into a tailspin and she unknowingly changed me. Each day she made me feel new and unfamiliar emotions. She made me realize that I didn’t want to live my life in solidarity any longer. I knew on the day I met her that I wanted her, and I haven’t looked back since.
I cast a sideways glance at her ring again.
Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Stone.
I want that. Now.
If only she would stop dragging her feet.
While Krystina had been steadfast in her commitment to marrying me, her actions showed otherwise. It wasn’t one particular thing that she did or said, but more about the way she avoided discussing any sort of plan. I wanted to get married sooner rather than later. Having our relationship officially set in stone as soon as possible was my top priority. She, on the other hand, was content putting off our wedding for another year or more.
I had no intention of waiting a year and her unwillingness to go over any of my proposed plans was grating on my nerves.
“So, I talked to Justine today,” I casually mentioned.
“Oh? I haven’t seen her in a while. What’s new with her?”
“Her nerves are shot. Did you see the email I forwarded you about the date change for Charlie’s trial?”
“Yeah. I saw it was moved up.”
“In my opinion, the pending trial is getting the best of her.”
“I think all of us are a bit keyed up over that,” she murmured. “I can’t wait for it to be done so we can put this behind us.”
“I couldn’t agree more, angel. I couldn’t agree more. But I know Justine. I think a project would be a good distraction for her right now. She doesn’t handle being bored or anxious very well.”
“So you’ve told me,” Krystina replied with chuckle. “I could talk to her about the program I’d like to launch at the women’s shelter. She might be able to help me brainstorm ideas for helping the rape victims who come to Stone’s Hope. That should keep her busy enough. Unless, of course, you already gave her something to do.”
“Actually, I did. I told her to start researching wedding planners, locations, and florists. It’s something I should’ve thought of sooner. Party planning is what she does best, plus it will get the ball rolling for us.”
“Alex, we haven’t even settled on a date yet, or the type of wedding we want.”
I pursed my lips in annoyance as I stared at the traffic on the road ahead. I wanted to point out that the only reason we didn’t have a date was because she wouldn’t set one, but then I thought better of it. I didn’t want her to get riled up, so I maintained a neutral tone.
“The wedding can’t be anything extravagant, Krystina,” I stated firmly. “Don’t overthink it. Simple is best.”
“What if I want a big fancy wedding?” she asked quietly. Her tone was subdued, but I could sense the challenge in her question at the same time.
I turned to look at her, only to find that her brows were furrowed. I fought the urge to reach out and smooth the creases between her eyes.
“Is that what you want? A big wedding?” I asked, hoping her answer would be no. A big wedding was simply out of the question.
She frowned.
“No, not really.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good, because it’s not an option. Less media attention is better. I’ve had my fill of warding off the press as of late. They’ve been like vultures ever since the accident, and Charlie’s trial has them chomping at the bit,” I spat out loathsomely. “Justine understands that, and she’ll communicate it with whomever she chooses as a wedding planner.”
“Oh. So Justine and her chosen wedding planner are going to decide on it all then?”
Her quiet tone was gone, replaced by one that was extremely sarcastic. The emphasis she placed on my sister’s name wasn’t lost on me. When she pulled away the hand that had still been resting on my knee, I could almost hear the warning bells go off.
Careful, Stone…
“I told her to get with you on the details, angel. Don’t worry,” I placated.
“I see…” she trailed off, quiet and distant once more.
She was clearly upset over something I said. I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying to figure out what it was. We continued to drive in silence, the tension crackling in the air between us.
I slowed the car as we approached the building that held Tumblin’s office. After maneuvering into a parking space, I overrode the automatic power down of the Tesla by pressing the emergency brake, effectively killing the ignition. I then turned to face Krystina. The lighting from the street lamps cast shadows over her face and emphasized the dark circles under her eyes.
“Are you sure about this, angel? You look really tired.”
There was a lengthy pause before she responded.
“Alex, you know I’m sure. It’s you that isn’t.”
The bitterness in her voice made me grimace. Her uncanny ability to read through me never failed to be unnerving.
“Krystina –.”
“Let’s just go in, Alex. We’re going to be late,” she interrupted. And with that, she didn’t bother to wait for me to come around and open the car door for her. Instead, she opened it herself and got out.
I slammed my palms against the steering wheel.
Fuck!
Her abrupt exit from the car was infuriating. However, as I watched her make her way toward the building, my stomach felt like it had lead in it. I was reminded of the last time she exited the car without me; it was the day Krystina left me at Club O. I thought I lost her, and it was a moment in time I never wanted to repeat.
I rubbed my hands over my face, and took a deep and calming breath to rein in my mounting temper. Resigned to another round of psychological warfare, I climbed out of the car and followed her inside.
5
krystina
“Miss Cole, can I get you anything while you wait? Tea? Coffee?”
I looked up at the pleasant and motherly face of Patricia Ward, Dr. Tumblin’s attentive receptionist. She had a soft voice that was calm and soothing. I suspected that was part of the reason she was hired. A glance around the waiting room would show more of the same. Calm and soothing. As if the muted pastels were a strategic design plan to make a patient relax; to make them feel like they weren’t about to go through an emotional cyclon
e upon entering the private office of Dr. Joseph P. Tumblin.
“Coffee would be fantastic, Patricia. Thank you,” I said.
I sat back in my chair and began to tap my foot, clocking the minutes until I would be called into Dr. Tumblin’s office. As we had in previous weeks, I spoke with him first, and then Alexander took a turn. After we each had our private sessions, Dr. Tumblin would sit down with us together to discuss what was talked about during our one-on-ones. I wasn’t sure if I liked the current arrangements, but Dr. Tumblin insisted we try it.
The receptionist came over to me with a cup a piping hot coffee. The aroma was like heaven to my nose. Handing me the cup, she pointed over to an area on her left.
“Cream and sugar is right over there on the minibar. Please, help yourself,” she told me before retreating back to her desk.
I stood and walked the few steps to where Patricia had pointed. Adding a few dollops of cream and an individual package of granulated sugar, I stirred the coffee absently while thinking about how Alexander might be reacting to the things I discussed with Dr. Tumblin.
He’s probably going ape-shit right about now.
I shook my head and thought back to the night when I mentioned to Alexander that he and I should go to therapy. I had no idea it would turn out to be this difficult. I thought it was a good idea. After the car crash, life seemed to come full circle and I didn’t want the nightmares of our pasts to interfere with us anymore. We had our whole lives ahead of us and I wanted nothing to hold us back. He was my everything. My dark knight. He was my heart and he set my soul on fire.
However, I was starting to wonder if my insistence to attend therapy was a good one. Alexander warned me. He said he wasn’t a fan of shrinks. That was the understatement of the year. I just wished he could see what I saw – a tormented man, haunted by the demons in his past. I witnessed his turmoil almost every night while he slept. I hated when he awoke from the nightmares that ripped him apart. It nearly broke me. I felt it was imperative for us to work through this.
Together.
Unfortunately, Alexander was having none of it. His value for privacy took precedence. I wasn’t allowed to mention certain parts of Alexander’s past, making it difficult to speak freely to Dr. Tumblin. The only thing he knew was that Alexander’s parents were dead. Nothing more.
I took a sip of the coffee and winced from the bitterness. It certainly was not anything like the coffee La Biga would’ve served, but at least it was caffeine.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
I sighed to myself and reclaimed my chair in the waiting room. Settling in, I went over our conversation during the car ride here. It was frustrating. I tried to keep my cool, but knew I had failed miserably. The minute he mentioned his sister’s involvement in our wedding plans, it became a real struggle to bite my tongue. His domineering nature was taking over all aspects of my life. Of our lives. Navigating his needs with my own was a difficult balancing act. I understood Alexander’s demand for control, but he was taking it to a whole new level. I just wanted to scream.
What about me? Don’t I get to plan my wedding? Don’t I get to have a say in the house that we are going to live in together?
I looked up when I heard the door to Dr. Tumblin’s office open. The psychiatrist smiled kindly at me.
“Are you ready, Krystina?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” I joked with a slight grin, even though I wasn’t really kidding.
When I walked into the office, I found Alexander pacing like a caged animal. Despite his obvious agitation, I couldn’t help but to take a quick moment to admire the way he could own any room with just his mere presence. Standing over six feet, he commanded power and radiated prestige. I would never tire of watching him. Even when he was angry, he was impossibly gorgeous.
His dark waves were wild, as if he had been running his hands through them in frustration. His rumpled hair only added to his Adonis-like appearance. His sapphire eyes flashed when he saw me come in, and his lips were drawn into a grim line. Nevertheless, his apparent anger didn’t stop the magnetic pull that I felt whenever I was near him. He was like the other half of my soul, and at times I felt like I couldn’t breathe without him.
I fought the urge to go to him, wanting nothing more than to melt into his arms and completely forget about the therapy session all together. However, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. I hesitated, not wanting to make the wrong move and potentially make a bad situation worse. Afraid to utter a word, I quietly sat down on the plush peach colored sofa in the office and ran my hands over my skirt in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting.
“Alex, why don’t you take a seat?” Dr. Tumblin suggested.
“I’d rather not,” Alexander responded curtly. He wasn’t even attempting to cooperate.
So much for trying to find a middle ground.
“As you wish,” Dr. Tumblin said and directed his attention to me. “Krystina, Alex and I revisited the concern you mentioned last week.”
“Krystina and I have already talked about this,” Alexander hissed through gritted teeth. “She knows where I stand on the matter. Having further discussion about it is pointless.”
Dr. Tumblin’s face remained impassive. Alexander’s jaw had an angry tick. I took that as a warning sign, as I knew it meant he was nearing his breaking point.
“Krystina is concerned about the increased frequency of your night terrors,” Dr. Tumblin said patiently, despite Alexander’s obvious agitation.
“My night terrors?” Alexander questioned mockingly, as if the term was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Is that what we’re calling them now?”
“Yes. What we haven’t discussed is the content of them. The content, as well as Krystina’s theory about why they might be occurring, holds merit and is worth exploring. She mentioned that you used to attend a BDSM club.”
Alexander’s eyes flashed angrily in my direction. I winced and looked away. I knew I was going to be in major trouble for divulging that little snippet of information.
“Your point?” Alexander snapped testily.
This isn’t going well at all.
I huffed out a breath from frustration. This convoluted idea of therapy was proving to be a failure, as almost all subjects were off limits. Alexander held too many secrets, making any sort progress near impossible.
“BDSM was a big part of your life. You have used it as an outlet,” Dr. Tumblin calmly pointed out before turning to me. “Krystina, let’s talk about your concerns a little more in depth. Shall we?”
“Well, it wasn’t a huge concern. I only brought it up because I thought there might be a connection. I don’t know,” I said with a shrug.
I’m not the doctor. How the hell should I know?
“Why do you feel like there is a connection?” he probed.
“Because Alex’s nightmares have been coming more and more frequently. Nearly every night,” I added, glancing nervously in Alexander’s direction. His nightmares were the touchiest subject of them all and I had to proceed with caution. “I only wondered if the frequency has anything to do with his decision to step back from the more extreme BDSM lifestyle that he was used to. I worry that, without the outlet he had for so many years, his demons are possibly manifesting in other ways.”
I shrugged and looked down at my hands. Despite my efforts, they were fidgeting in my lap. I clamped my palms together to still them and focused my attention on the subtle circular patterns in the office carpet. I knew I shouldn’t have been nervous about the conversation taking place. After all, this was one of the reasons we were here.
“Alexander, what are your feelings about that?” Dr. Tumblin asked.
“I feel like I’ve already explained my position on this over a hundred times. But, since we are being so open all of a sudden, I will tell you what I told her. Yes, I turned to BDSM at a young age. It was an outlet for a time. I’ve done things, a lot of things, that many would call freakish. Hell,
I was a member of a sex club for Christ’s sake! Fucked up, right, Doc? But it doesn’t define who I am. I’ve told Krystina this before. I haven’t…we haven’t,” Alexander corrected, motioning his hand back and forth between us. “We haven’t given up BDSM. We are anything but vanilla, not that what I do with my fiancée is any of your business. I just dropped the club scene. It’s not an outlet for me anymore because I don’t need it to be, and it certainly isn’t the sort of place I want Krystina to go to.”
“But Alex, if it’s something you need –” I stopped when he swore again.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Krystina! Is this really about what I need? Or you? The problem is, you have no goddamn clue about that world. What you saw at the club doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what really goes on. Do you want to be a collared Submissive? Caged? Do you want to be dragged around in black leather with the other Submissives, on your knees and sucking off your Master? Bowing to his every whim, even if that includes sharing you with another man or woman?” He paused and narrowed his gaze on me. His sapphire eyes burned dark, almost navy in color. “Yeah, that’s right. If I wanted to, I could share you and you wouldn’t be allowed to question it. I’d own you. So tell me. Do you want me to break you, Krystina? Is that what you want?”
He spat out the harsh questions like he was demanding my answers, although he already knew what I would say. I winced from his words and my cheeks flushed pink. He was speaking as if Dr. Tumblin wasn’t even in the room. A shiver ran down my spine, and I shook my head.
“No,” I told him quietly. “I don’t want that. I didn’t think you did either. You told me that you weren’t an extremist.”
“And I’m not. That’s why I was able to adjust to being with you so easily. I chose you. I knew I didn’t want another random whore who spreads her legs for any man willing to dominate her.”
My stomach rolled from the thought of him being with someone else. And not just a random whore, but any woman at all.
“Alex…” I trailed off, unable to find the words I needed to explain my rationale.
Set In Stone (The Stone Series Book 3) Page 4