by Lena Black
I’d begged him to stay home with me, but he insisted on going into the office. Even though it hurt me, I understood he needed time to lose himself in work. It also gave me time to put the finishing touches on my plans. I asked him not to work late and he promised he wouldn’t. With that, he left me, and I set out on my day.
I had spent it thinking about him and running errands. I wanted everything to be perfect. No detail left undone.
Later that evening, when everything was ready, Liam called to let me know they were about to arrive home. Everyone hid behind couches and chairs, anywhere they could find, dressed in their costumes, giggling to each other. When we heard the elevator open, the lights came on and everyone jumped up to yell, “Surprise!”
The look on his face was devastating. His jaw was clenched and his mouth was in a sharp line, brows furrowed, face a vibrant red. He stared me down with a look I’ve never seen from him before, as if I’d betrayed him. He turned without a word and got back in the elevator. Just as the doors were about to shut, I slid in next to him.
He didn’t look at me or acknowledge my presence. It had killed me.
“Would you please say something?” I pleaded with him.
“What do you want me to say?” His eyes remained on the elevator doors.
“Why did you leave?”
He whipped around, pinning me against the wall. “Why the fuck did you do this, Gabrielle? You know I hate my birthday, you know it brings me nothing but pain. Why would you think I’d want to celebrate that?”
“I was hoping I could change it for you, make it a day of happiness. I see this as a day to celebrate…It was the day you came into this world, the day that started your journey toward me. I think that’s worth celebrating.”
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing away from me.
“I can’t do this right now,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be here.”
“Where are you going to go?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Damian, don’t be this way. Please. I love you. I want to spend your birthday with you.”
The doors opened into the underground garage and he stepped out. “I’ll be home later.”
I stood there, watching him walk away, too scared to go after him.
Later, well after two, he finally came home, smelling of expensive whiskey and cigar smoke. I could smell it across the room. I’d pretended I was asleep as he undressed and headed to the shower to rinse some of the stink off him. When he was done, he came to bed and crawled in behind me. He scooped his arm about my waist and brings me into his still very naked body, squeezing me.
He kissed me on the neck tenderly and whispered, “I’m sorry, angel. I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.”
I turned to him, shifting in his grasp to face him.
“I know you’re sorry. But you aren’t fucked up. You’re wonderful, flaws and all.”
“I still miss them, Elle. I would give anything to have them back.”
He broke down and I enfolded myself about him, holding his head against my chest. I held him until he cried himself out, falling asleep in my loving embrace.
I laid awake that night, replaying his words in my head. They broke my heart, because unlike so many, he had the means to back up his statement. He could obtain anything he desired, except the one thing he’d give it all up to have. It couldn’t be bought. And I couldn’t fix it.
…
When Hunt finally came to get me, he appeared tense, worried even. While we were lying in bed, him on his laptop, me reading, I decide it’s time he talk about whatever was weighing down on him.
“Damian?”
“Hmm,” he grunts, keeping his focus on his laptop.
“We need to talk.”
He looks up at me with a probing gaze. “About what, angel?”
“You.” I lick my lips nervously, suddenly dry. “Why have you been so down? What happened this afternoon?”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why do you do this? Why don’t you ever just talk to me?”
“Gabrielle, I talk to you. I’ve told you more than I’ve ever told anyone.”
“Well,” I sit up, resting on the large, goose down pillows, “then you can tell me this.”
“It’s really not worth talking about.” He gestures his hand as if to wave it off, looking back down at his laptop.
“If it’s making you behave this way, I highly doubt that. Is it Dante? Vanessa? Have you found out more about them?”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Please drop it, Gabrielle. I have everything under control.”
I glare at him, my lips turned down at the corners. “You know, one day you’ll realize you don’t. Life is messy and uncontrollable and leaving me in the dark does no one any good.”
I toss my book off the bed and turn over, facing away from him. He reaches over and places his hand on my back, but I’m so tired of him keeping things from me, always wanting to be in control. I shut my eyes and will myself to sleep. Thankfully, it comes quickly, and I’m out within a few minutes.
Chapter Five
Ex & Lies
When I arrive at the office, I jump in head first and don’t come up for air until lunch. Having brought a sandwich with me, I don’t stop to eat. I’m happy to have the stability and distraction of work after everything that’s happened recently. There’s been an awkward tension between Hunt and I, with his sisters’ bringing up the P word, our brunch with my sister, and his secrecy. Even our talks have done little to relieve anything. It’s like there’s this distance, even when we didn’t have an inch of space between us.
I hope time apart will ease the situation.
At two, I head into a meeting with Eliza, Chase, and a few other View editors, where we spend the rest of the afternoon brainstorming for the magazine.
Once we’re done, I retrieve my things from my desk, lock up, and head for the elevators. While I’m taking it down, I check my phone for missed calls and texts. There’s a message from Brooke.
Let’s have drinks tonight.
I could certainly use one.
I text back.
On my way.
She sends me the name and address of the upscale bar, and I’m there fifteen minutes later. She’s seated at a table, a glass of whiskey already waiting for me. When I catch her attention and smile, she returns one, but it’s flat.
“Hey,” I greet her, leaning over and kissing her on both cheeks.
I take a seat and set my purse on the chair beside me.
“You look well,” she says. “Marriage really suits you.”
“Damian suits me.”
“Yes,” she agrees, lifting her glass to me. “To Damian and marriage.”
We clink our glasses together before taking a palette cleansing sip. It’s an old, expensive Scotch. Amongst a number of other things, Hunt taught me the importance of knowing the difference.
“How are things between you two?”
“It’s never boring.” I chuckle, but it’s hollow. “To the point we don’t have time for…”
I glance around at the other patrons within earshot, making certain they aren’t going to hear.
“Sex?” Brooke chimes in.
“We have plenty of sex, but with work, family drama, and Dante’s bullshit, we haven’t had time for the kinkier stuff.”
“Sounds as if you’re in a normal relationship.”
I huff out a laugh.
“There’s nothing normal about Damian or our relationship.”
“You’re not kidding,” she mutters into her glass before tilting it back to let the contents slide down her throat. Able to nurse a glass forever, it’s out of the ordinary that she polished off her drink in the first three minutes of my arrival. Something’s up. She catches the attention of a server passing by, holding up the empty glass, the melting cubes of ice clinking against th
e sides. Once the young man takes it from her, she elucidates her previous statement, “What I meant was, sometimes life gets in the way of a relationship. It’s a perfectly normal situation for couples. However, if I’ve learned one fact in my time as a divorce lawyer, it’s to communicate with your spouse. I can’t tell you how many couples have come through my office that could’ve avoided divorce if they had simply talked about their issues. Tell Damian what you want.”
“How are things with you and Wade?” I twist the cut crystal glass between my palms, leaving a ring of condensation on the white tablecloth.
“We’ve been happy.” She smiles softly, a slight blush on her cheeks. “He’s the man I’ve always wanted. And an incredible Dom.”
Our waiter brings her refill back to the table. Brooke takes it with an appreciative nod. When he walks away, she looks back to me, the corners of her mouth plummeting. “There’s a reason I asked you here.”
“So, this isn’t exactly a social visit.”
“No.” She takes a slug of her refreshed whiskey, holding it in her puffed out cheeks before swallowing it down. Her face scrunches as the burn hits her chest. “I’m not going to dance around this because I love you, and you have a right to know before shit hits the fan.”
I tense. With everything that has happened this past year, this could be anything. I clutch my hand to my knee to keep my leg from shaking under the table.
“Well?” I ask when she doesn’t continue.
“I’ve heard rumors floating around about Damian.”
“What kind of rumors?” My face distorts, my stomach doing the same.
“The kind of rumors that could ruin his reputation.” She takes a deep breath, tucking a piece of her coffee hair behind her ear. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
I reach across the table and take her hand in mine.
“You can tell me anything, Brooke.”
“They’re mostly about his past affairs with women, and his need to dominate them.”
I release her hand and slump back in my seat.
“This reeks of Dante.”
“Maybe he’s pulling the strings, however it’s coming from former subs.”
My forehead crinkles at the mention of Damian’s former lovers. Like most women would with their men, I’m curious about his past relationships. Especially due to the uniqueness of his sexual appetite.
“There’s more.”
“How much more?”
“Rumors about Olivia and Marlena.”
Fuck.
Suddenly, the incident at the gala makes sense, why a few whispered words made Damian shift gears at the drop of a hat.
Clarity must be written on my face because Brooke asks, “What?”
“The other night, this man Damian does business with on occasion said something to him. I didn’t hear what, but the way he pulled me off the dancefloor, I knew it was bad.”
“You think it was this?”
“Possibly. You know Hunt. He never tells me anything.”
I notice her eyes keep drifting over my shoulder.
“Speaking of Hunt, I think he’s having you followed.”
“What are you…” I start to turn to look over my shoulder, but she tugs on my hand to stop me.
“Don’t look,” she scolds. “He arrived just after you, took a seat toward the front. He’s wearing a black suit. He reminds me of Liam.”
“He might simply be a man who came to have a drink or meal after work.”
“Yeah, except he hasn’t ordered anything, and this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him.”
“You’ve seen him before?”
“Last time we got together.”
Last time we were together was a month ago when I helped Brooke buy a new sofa for her apartment.
“I can’t believe he would have me followed.”
“Really? You can’t believe Damian Hunt, Dominant and Mr. Overprotective, would have you followed? Besides, it’s probably more or less for protection in case anything goes down rather than spying.”
Spying. Like a needle, the word shoots white-hot rage into my veins.
“He keeps things from me and then has me tracked, whether it’s for my safety or not, he has no right to have me surveyed without my knowledge. It’s a gross violation of my privacy and our vows. It’s fucking weird, Brooke.”
She laughs.
“Well, Damian’s weird. Especially when it comes to you.”
“Damian!” I call, walking across the first floor of our penthouse, my heels clacking on the hard floor. I know where he is, but I want him to know I’m coming. I throw my purse on the couch and head up the stairs to his office. The door is closed. I turn the knob slightly to see if it’s locked before pushing it open and walking right in. He’s sitting behind his large wood desk, downtown San Francisco his backdrop. He looks so powerful, it almost puts me off my task to chew him out. I hate how his looks and demeanor make me wild with passion when I’m trying to be raging mad at him.
“How could you have me followed?” I ask, coming right out with it.
He glances up at me from his laptop, one perfect brow raised.
“I wouldn’t call Liam driving you around following.”
“I’m not talking about Liam and you know it.”
“Then I’m completely lost, Gabrielle.”
“Don’t play ignorant, Hunt.” I smack my hand down on his desk. “Brooke saw him when we were having drinks. And when we went to purchase furniture for her place. Where else has he trailed me, huh?”
The shock turns to an emotion I don’t see often on his face…fear.
“Elle, I’m not having anyone follow you.”
“You’re not? Really? Honestly?”
“No, I’m not.” He rises from his chair and walks over to me when the realization clutches me. He clasps his hands to my arms. “What did this man look like?”
“I didn’t get a look at him. Brooke described him to me because she was already facing him. She said he was wearing a suit and he reminded her of Liam.” I pause when I see the color drained from his face. “It’s Dante, isn’t it? That’s how he stalks me without us knowing.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. I know I hit the nail right on the head. If it isn’t Hunt, who else would it be?
“Brooke and I think he’s behind the rumors too.”
His eyes spring to mine, intense and green.
“How did you…Brooke. Brooke told you.”
“Well, you certainly weren’t going to do it. When were you going to tell me? After it’s been splashed across the internet?”
“I’m taking care of it. Besides, if any of this comes out to the public, we simply won’t respond.”
“That’s it? You’re going to let these people mess with you?”
“Of course not. Angel, you shouldn’t…”
“If you tell me I shouldn’t worry, so help me god, Hunt, I will scream bloody fucking murder.”
He sighs, his eyes closing and his face dipping. “I only want to protect you,” he says gently, his heart bared in his voice. I step into him and tilt my face up, setting my lips on his. They’re tight at first, but they open up to me slowly. I reach my arms up around his neck. His arms find my waist, puling me closer.
“You want to keep me safe. I get it. But if you think not telling me things is going to make me worry less, you’re very sadly mistaken. I know things are happening. I’m not naïve to our problem, but being kept in the dark does not help anyone. If I don’t know what dangers I face, how can I protect myself against them? Let’s fight this together.”
“Alright, angel.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I know it’s my former subs, but I have to assume Dante forced them to do it in some way because I’ve never had a problem with them before.”
“So he’s probably threatened them.”
“That would be my guess.” He sits back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his fa
ce. “I hate to cut this short, but I’m in the middle of making arrangements to fly down to San Diego this weekend.”
“You’re leaving town now? With everything going on?”
“If I only traveled when conditions were perfect, I’d never leave San Francisco. I want Jules and Liam to stay with you while I’m gone. If you leave the penthouse, I expect him to escort you wherever you go, but it must be absolutely necessary. Preferably life-threatening. Is that understood?”
“You expect me to hideaway here like some damsel locked away in my marble tower?”
“For a weekend. Invite anyone you want to stay over with you, make it a girl’s weekend, but if Dante is having you followed, you have to stay out of the public eye until I get back. I need to know you’re safe when I’m not around. Promise me.”
“Yes, Hunt, I promise,” I assure him, my fingers firmly crossed behind my back.
I leave Hunt to plan for his trip while I make a couple calls of my own. I pull my cell out of my purse and shove it to my ear.
“Hey. It’s Elle…I need your help.”
The following Friday, Damian leaves for a conference in San Diego. Saturday, I pick up Brooke. She seems tense the whole ride. She taps her leg and clenches the handle on the door. She’s usually confident and cool. She holds her head up high and looks you right in the eye. But the person sitting next to me is a mess, a little girl with serious confidence issues.
“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Trust me.”
“How did I let you talk me into this?”
“I know…And you’re a lawyer. I must’ve made one hell of an argument.”
“If I didn’t love you and Damian so much I would never consider doing this in a million damn years. I’d be safer sticking my head in an alligator’s mouth.”
“I think you’re being dramatic.”
We pull up to the beautiful Victorian and get out. Brooke hesitates on the wet sidewalk, her hands clasped in front of her. She’s staring down at her heeled feet. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s so submissive. I slide my arm through hers, giving it an assuring squeeze. She nods when she’s ready. I lead her to the door and ring the doorbell twice.