Grace: A Disgrace Trilogy Novel

by Dee Palmer

  I let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to see him…not yet. I’m not ready.” I’m trying to explain but it feels more like a confession. “Jason being here…I didn’t think it would even be a thing. He left me, it’s just after what you’ve just told me, I honestly don’t know what to think. But I do know I’m not ready to face him so soon.”

  “Then your wish is my command, as always.” Gabriel stands and I do too.

  At the first prickle of a goosebumps from the chilled evening air, Gabriel removes his jacket to place over my shoulders, and we make our way back to the jetty.

  “I would ask how I can ever repay you, Gabe, but since you already have me performing when I had no intention of doing any such thing, I dread to think what else your silver tongue could entice me to do.” I muse with a wry grin.

  “My list is very long, Mistress.” He flashes a decadent, wicked smile.

  “I don’t doubt that for one second.” I nudge my bony elbow into his side, and he lets out a deep groan that is filled with far too much pleasure for an innocent gesture. “Behave. Gabriel. You know, I think you’d even give the Marquis De Sade a run for his money.”

  “Amateur.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” I shake my head with exasperation. He simply chuckles and pulls me against his side for a hug. I rest my head against him.

  “It’s the only way to be, darling.” His lips press against my hair. I relax into his hold and very nearly smile. What a fucking mess.

  The scorching spray pummels my shoulders, only the tension in my muscles is set solid. Pounding the pavement for my five mile run this morning didn’t ease my mind, any more than the copious quantity of alcohol I consumed the night before. The scalding shower is just another thing I can add to my list of failed attempts to reach a state where I don’t feel this pain. I am consumed with just one thing and it’s thrumming and pulling every fibre in my body so taut, I know I’m a walking hair trigger. I don’t want to contemplate the aftermath of destruction, if I don’t get her back, I can’t…I won’t entertain that as a remote possibility. I switch the water off and step from the shower. The wide mirror over the sink is steamed up and my reflection is completely obscured. Good. I can’t bear to look at my face right now. How could I be so fucking stupid? All I had to do was tell her, tell her I had to deal with some shithead that wanted to hurt her. It’s not like she wouldn’t understand. Hell, she would’ve probably ridden shotgun, if I had let her.

  I rake my hand across the mirror, and the steam forms bigger droplets of water and streaks across the surface that warp the image of my face. Hazy and oddly magnified in parts, I look distorted but mostly my face just looks utterly exhausted. Daniel was right; I do look like shit.

  I don’t bother to shave, just brush my teeth and dry off.

  Since I’m no longer able to sleep, I packed for this trip last night. It kept my mind from Sam, for all of five fucking minutes. I dress quickly and grab my case, keys and passport. When I enter the kitchen Will is holding my phone.

  “Sorry, it was an unknown number so I took the call.” He rushes to explain. “It wasn’t Sam, sorry.” His face falls in sync with mine, and I bite back the sickness that rises from my stomach, a reaction I get every time my damn phone rings.

  “It’s okay.” I try to convey the truth of my words in my tone, though I know he doesn’t believe me. None of this is okay, but I’ve stopped blaming him. He was just an easy target. This fuck-up is all mine. “Who was it?”

  “He didn’t say. He just said the package didn’t make it and that he didn’t think that would be a problem.” Will quirks his lips and shrugs off the cryptic message.

  “Hmm?” I’m in the dark until he elaborates.

  “That’s all he said. He had a thick Russian accent, and he didn’t give his name.” His brow furrows, and from his expression, it’s clear he’s putting considerable effort into understanding as my face must register recognition.

  “Oh, that’s okay I know who that was, and he’s spot on.” My derisive tone is clear, but my smile seems to confuse Will. “At least I did one fucking thing right that day.”

  “The email guy.” He’s usually pretty quick to follow, and I give a sharp nod.

  “Yes.”

  “So the package….”

  He understands perfectly well, and I have no intention of discussing this further. That fucking arsehole cost me enough. I’m not wasting another second on him.

  “Are you dropping me at the city airport or not?” He narrows his eyes, then pushes himself up from his chair.

  “Sure.” I throw him my keys, and he follows me out.

  The journey to the airport takes no time at all, still the seconds still drag on. Will interrupts my ever-present darkness with a question I have been pondering almost every second since she left.

  “What if she doesn’t want you back?” The question is spoken softly, its effect like a bullhorn in this confined space. My jaw clamps shut, and I grit out my honest answer through clenched teeth.

  “Not an option,” I say emphatically. “Next question?”

  “Okay,” he drawls, apparently picking up on my hostility, not for him, but for the impossibility of his suggestion. “What are you going to do then? It’s likely from what you said about this guy Wexler’s PA, you are not going to be welcome if you show up. He’s obviously protecting her.”

  “I did get that impression, yes.” I barely refrain from biting his head off, yet he keeps pushing regardless of my clipped tone.

  “So?”

  “So I don’t have a fucking clue!” I slam my head back again the headrest. The uneasy silence deepens. I take a moment to draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly before I speak. “All I know is who she’s with and where she’s going to be at a specific time. I can’t get hold of her any other way, so I’m going to be where she is, whether Gabriel Wexler likes it or not.” I state flatly.

  “She doesn’t have a thing for this guy, does she?” His flippancy makes me want to punch the question right off his face. I settle for fucking incredulity.

  “Jesus, Will! For fuck’s sake, are you trying to stomp on my fucking heart now? I’m bleeding out here. I just want to make sure, because please, keep on with the same fucking questions I’ve been torturing myself with since she left.” I’m roaring by the time I finish. My fists are clenched, and my blood pressure must be through the damn roof.

  “Sorry, Jason, I didn’t mean—”

  “I don’t know, Will. I don’t fucking know.” I drag my hands across my face and sweep them to my neck to massage the ever-present tension. “I mean, I don’t believe she does. He’s an ex-client, and I know she never crossed that line in the past.” I hear him drag in a breath as if to speak. My scowl stops him dead. I know that fucking line of thinking too, and I don’t need it spelt out. I drop my head back and sigh heavily. “I also don’t believe you can go from loving someone to loving someone else so quick.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  I speak before I have to grab the wheel and pull the car over to kill my brother. “Don’t say what you’re thinking, for the love of all that’s holy. I will hurt you in ways you’ve only seen in horror movies and not think twice,” I warn in all seriousness.

  “Saying nothing, brother, nada.” He seals his lips, and I’m thankful he listened, for once.

  “Good.” I have to believe she still loves me. My only hope of getting her back relies on that being an irrefutable truth. She has to love me.

  Will pulls smoothly into the drop-off zone at the airport, and I turn to face him. His face is a picture of worry, reflecting only a fraction of my own concern. “So to answer your question, what am I going to do?” I pause and a smile begins at the corner of his mouth before I even start to speak. “I’m going to do everything and anything.”

  “Good.” He takes my offered hand and pulls me across the console for a hug. “I’m not saying good luck because luck is for pussies. You got this, Jason. Don’t let her go.”


  “Not a chance.” I hug him back and grab my bag from the back seat. Waving him off, I stride with purpose and determination into the terminal, eager to get my flight and end this nightmare.

  The flight is uneventful, and I land at Marco Polo airport midafternoon. It’s a testament to how infamous and exclusive this event is that all the top hotels are fully booked. I had to call in a personal favour from the owner of Hotel Danielli in order to get a room. There isn’t another vacant space within a fifty-mile radius of the venue. My suite should be perfect however. Not where I normally stay, though he assures me the view overlooks the lagoon.

  The meet and greet service picks me up from the airport and drops me via the hotel’s private water taxi directly to San Marco’s main square.

  “Signore, if there is anything else I can assist with, do not—”

  I interrupt the very polite porter. “I need a costume. I have an event I’m attending tomorrow, a masquerade ball. If you could get me the address of the best quality costumier, please. I mean, not the type of masks for tourists. The costume has to be authentic.”

  “Certainly, signore. You will want to visit Canovàccio on the Ponte di Rialto. They are a very old family and have many masks that will suit. I believe it is the preferred place for others attending the ball.” The porter hesitates on that last word, and I know from his wry grin that it’s not from a language barrier issue. He knows, or more likely, has heard rumours about the Gathering. I couldn’t give a fuck what he’s heard.

  “Excellent, Oh and some binoculars, please.” I add just as he is about to leave.

  “Pardon, signore?”

  “Ho bisogno di un paio di binocoli si prega.” I hold my hands up to mimic looking through some binoculars, and he nods enthusiastically with understanding.

  “Certo, signore. Pronto.” He gives me a curt nod and briskly exits the presidential suite. I slip my jacket over the back of one of the many ornate chairs placed around the room. This one is directly in front of the full-height French windows. I pull the curtains wide. Opening both doors, I step out onto the balcony. This suite is the only one on the top floor, reserved for dignitaries, royalty, and favour-claiming BDSM club owners. It’s several stories above street or water level, but the noise from the heaving crowds is deafening. The afternoon temperature is warm for spring, though all year round this spot has thousands of tourists flocking from all over the world. With almost daily visits from international cruise ships, spewing hundreds of people onto this tiny stretch of land, filling it to capacity and making it both vibrant and hellish, depending on where you sit on the spectrum of enjoying crowds. I’m glad to be above the throngs.

  I’m too tired to sort my costume, even though the shops will be open until late. At the moment, I just want to crash for an hour and hope that utter exhaustion is enough to drag me to sleep before I resort to raiding the mini bar to numb the pain.

  “What are you going to do?” My voice is hoarse with want. My fingers twitch to touch her, and I don’t feel the burn of the rope when I pull against the restraints, she has me so distracted. I know I couldn’t break them, she has tied me very tight to bed frame. But why would I want to break them? She’s here and I said I would do anything. Her tongue drags languidly along her bottom lip and my balls tighten in anticipation.

  “Anything I want to.” Her voice sounds strange, flat and hollow. She starts to crawl up the bed, hovering over my body, her sexy toned legs straddling mine. Damn, I want to touch her, mark her, make her mine. I can’t believe she’s here. This is fucking torture, but this is for her so at least one of us is enjoying it. She isn’t smiling though; not even a flicker of wickedness curls her lips, and the blood in my veins chills when I look in her eyes. God she looks so sad.

  “Sam, I’m so fucking so—” She slaps her hand over my mouth and shakes her head to stop me speaking.

  “Yes, me too.” From nowhere she pulls a large black rubber ball gag, and as much as I want to twist from her to stop this happening, my head won’t seem to move. She pulls my jaw down and fills my mouth with the gag, and all my words of apology and regret are just a mix of incoherent mumblings from now on. I slam my head back with frustration when she finally fixes it tight, and still my temper is quelled when she kisses my neck. Soft and so damn sweet I’d sigh like girl if I could get the sound past this Godawful intrusion in my mouth.

  She works her way down my body with gentle kisses, sensual licks and teasing bites. Her face is so damn close to my erection, I’m going to fucking burst if she doesn’t touch me soon. She’s doing everything but touch me where I need her to, and it’s driving me insane. I guess that’s the point. She glances up, and again, I’m just hit with the devastating sadness in her eyes where I would at least be expecting something more sinfully playful.

  “Mmm…. Mmm… Mmm,” I shout out a jumbled mess of another apology that goes undeciphered. I pull on my restraints with unbearable frustration only to freeze when her tongue drags slowly from the crease of my thigh to the base of my straining, angry cock. Time freezes, and I hold my breath. Oh. My. Fucking. God!

  She wraps her scorching tongue around my flesh like a snake and swipes it round and up and down my length and then—yes, please God—her gorgeous soft lips purse to kiss the tip and tighten as they push over my crown. Smooth and the fucking sexiest thing ever, she swallows me down, all the motherfucking way down. Her throat constricts, and I feel that like I take a hit of lightning at the base of my spine. Her hands move to cup my balls as she starts to move like she’s on a mission. Her other hand squeezes the base of my cock almost painfully, but it feels too damn good to register. She pumps, and sucks, and all the time, her tongue is massaging me to the point of no return. My hips start to rock even though I have no control over this, not the pace, the depth, nothing. This is all her, and as much as it feels fantastic, I hate it. I hate not being able to touch her; I hate not being in control.

  Her hand that is working it’s magic on my balls tugs lightly and I almost come. Her fingers massage that sensitive spot behind my sack and the slipperiness from her saliva eases her finger along the small gap and straight into my arsehole. She sucks down as she pushes inside me and every muscle in my body locks down and prepares for the mother of all explosions. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pleasure rockets through me, but before that spark can light that powder keg, she releases all contact, her mouth, her hand on the base of my cock, and her finger inside. She wraps her tight fist around my cock and slams her thumb over the slit, and like an ice pack to my balls, my imminent orgasm dies under the pad of her opposable digit. Motherfucking bitch!

  When I open my eyes she’s gone. I didn’t hear a sound or feel the bed move, and bewildered, I look frantically around a room I don’t recognise. The dark walls are glossy, like wet ink, and the only light is coming from expiring candles slowly melting to the floor. The flames cast faint shadows, and I can see when the flames flicker, moulds of faces hang from the walls, grotesque and eerie with hallow eyes. This has to be the creepiest fucking dungeon.

  The bed is the only piece of furniture, and I’m still fucking tied to it. There are no windows and only one door, which opens with an ominous creak. I’m not going to yell and groan when she enters, as much as I want to. She clearly has a plan and that plan involves putting me through hell. I silently repeat what I promised I would do to win her back…anything. She glides into the room, and she looks absolutely stunning. Her hair is pulled up with only a few stray curls, softening around her face. She has strips of diamonds hanging from her ears but no collar. Fuck.

  The tight leather corset squeezes her in and pushes her up in all the right places, and her breasts look like they could spill at any delicious moment. Silk stockings and sky high killer heels finish the vision. My impossibly hard cock seeps with unstated desire at the sight.

  The door opens again, and this dream vision becomes my worst fucking nightmare—Leon, Will, and Gabriel. Although I haven’t seen Gabriel in years, I would recognise
that smug expression anywhere. He walks directly up to her and wraps his hand around her neck. His eyes flick to me and my jaw snaps with the tension. I want to wipe his fucking smile off his face with my fist, but I freeze and watch the show.

  His mouth crashes to hers, and I’m winded from the hit when her arms wrap his body and her hands fly to grab his hair. She returns his kiss like her life depended on it. Will and Leon close around her, and she is twisted and turned and shared between them in a hedonistic tableau that is breaking my fucking heart.

  I’m screaming when Will starts to peel her panties down, no one seems to give a fuck. They barely glance my way as my throat burns with the roar that is muffled by this fucking gag. I try to swallow the pooling saliva dripping from my mouth. Leon and Will start to undress, and instantly, they are naked. Leon lifts her high onto his hips, impaling her on his cock with one swift move. Her head drops back against Will who is at her back with his cock in his hand, nudging to gain entrance into her arse. Please stop…please stop. I close my eyes only I can’t seem to keep them shut. The scene is spiralling into my own personal hell every time I open them, an unbearable strobe light flash of devastating images. Her body slammed between Will and Leon, her legs over Will’s forearms as she rides them both, ecstasy emblazoned on their faces. All the time, her face is buried in Leon’s chest until Gabriel pulls her chin up to kiss what’s mine…Mine! She’s motherfucking mine!

  The next time I open my eyes, it’s just her and Gabriel. I would look around for Will and Leon, but I don’t care where they are. I don’t want them here. I don’t want any of them here except her. Gabriel turns her in his arms and positions her so her hands are resting on the bottom bed frame; her head is dropped, and she still hasn’t looked into my eyes, not since she put this fucking gag in my mouth. Gabriel is looking at me, though. His dark eyes gleam with avarice and desire, and he lets out a deep, unGodly groan when he penetrates her from behind. He fists her hair and pulls her into an arch, and that’s when I break. Her sorrow-filled eyes pierce me, and the tears that soak her face are my undoing.