by Lena Black
I cup my hands over the sides of her face, searching her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, it’s time.”
“We’ll be upstairs taking care of things,” I tell her. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I nod at Banks and then kiss her on the forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away and following Liam out.
Elle
When it rains, it storms.
“You should probably take a seat,” I gesture my hand toward the couch, “for what I’m about to tell you.”
“I don’t want to take a goddamn seat, Ellie. I want you to tell me where the hell those photos came from.”
“Where did you get those?”
“They came in the mail, along with a note instructing me to ask you about them. So why the fuck am I receiving pictures of my brother’s death?”
“I…” I choke on my words.
“Please,” she begs, her eyes large and searching for answers, “Ellie, tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.”
“You should be. I’m fucking terrified.” I’m starting to think this isn’t such a good idea, but before I can mull it over and chicken out, I take a steadying breath and speak, “This has to do with Hunt’s brother, Dante. We’ve been dealing him for quite a while. It all started when he attacked me in Hunt’s apartment…” I recollect every miserable detail of our ordeal with Dante, the stalking, the threats, the destruction of my apartment, the missing money, and the wedding.
“Holy shit, Ellie.” She places her hand over her heart. “Is that who destroyed the penthouse a few months ago? Is this what you’ve been keeping from me?”
“Yes.”
“Fucking Christ. I had no idea you were going through any of this.”
“And that’s not even the worst part.” I pause and shut my eyes, too heartbroken to look her in the face. “While he was attacking me, he confessed something, Jules, something awful.”
“What? What did he confess?”
What’ll she think when she finds out I’m the reason her brother is dead? She admired him so much. I don’t know if I’m capable of tarnishing her image of him.
“When Nicholas died, you said you didn’t believe he could do that to himself.”
“Yeah. It seemed out of place for him, but the cops determined it was suicide. What does this have to do with…” She pauses a moment as confusion turns to understanding.
“No…Wait.” With tears swelling in her eyes, she holds her hand up to me and rises from the couch. “What the fuck are you trying to tell me?”
“Dante killed…”
“No, I-I got that. How did he know him? Why would he want to murder him?”
“Because…” I swallow hard, attempting to dislodge the acidic lump caught in my throat.
“Ellie, you tell me right now! Why would he kill Nicholas?”
“Because of me.” I run my hands in my hair and fall back on the couch opposite her, rocking back and forth. Moments of silence go by. When I finally muster the courage to face her again, I see her shaking from across the room, shocked into silence. “I think Nicholas was going to make contact with me again. I don’t know how they knew each other. He never told me.”
“What do you mean, he tried to make contact with you again? And why would Damian’s brother care?”
“He…” I try to get it out, but the words scald coming up. “He’s been stalking me for a long time. He was obsessed with me, possessive, controlling. He hurt me.”
“But what about my brother, Ellie?”
“I am talking about your brother, Jules. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He…abused me.”
Disgust rolls over her face, but it’s unclear who it’s directed at. This could go either way.
“I thought I was the only one,” she finally speaks, and it knocks the wind out of my lungs.
“Jules?”
“When we were kids,” she walks over and collapses onto the couch beside me, “he would hit me and then tell my parents it was an accident. I thought it was just a phase, that he outgrew it as he got older.”
“You believe me?” I ask, my voice trembling with a sob.
She looks up at me with hurt in her eyes. “Of course I believe you. Ellie, you should have told me. I would have helped you.”
“I was terrified to tell you,” I cry. “I didn’t know how you’d react to it. I didn’t want to lose you over him. When he died, I thought if I’d told you, you would think I was trying to ruin the image you had of your saintly brother.”
“I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t be honest with me. I always thought something had happened. You’d changed so much during that time. I should have seen the truth. I should have been there for you when you needed me.”
Hugging me in her arms, she holds me tight at first. We cry, and we laugh all at once, a flurry of emotions coming to the surface that have been buried deep for so long.
“We have to go to the cops,” she says, pulling away from me and jumping off the couch.
I grab her hand before she can move toward the elevator, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” she asks, her tone offensive.
“Firstly, because if the cops already ruled it a suicide, I doubt they’ll find any evidence that contradicts their findings. Dante is an expert at covering his tracks.”
“And secondly?”
“Secondly, Damian doesn’t want the police involved.”
“Why the hell not? Is he trying to protect him?”
“God, no, not at all. He wants to handle him alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, he wants his brother taken care of…personally.”
“He’s going to...”
“Yes. He doesn’t want Dante to be able to do this to anyone else ever again. But you have to promise me you won’t involve them, Jules.”
She paces back and forth, her face pensive as she works the issue in her head. When Jules makes a promise, she keeps it, so it’s not something she takes lightly.
“Alright,” she says. “I promise I won’t talk to the police.”
Chapter Nineteen
Past Tense
I have a lunch date with Hunt. I’m almost tempted to skip it. However, I can’t. It’s really more of a meeting of sorts. He said he had some important matters to discuss with me, so I agreed to join him for lunch, as I do most days. Though, I’m sure a little afternoon nookie will probably ensue.
At five after twelve, I shut down my computer, grab my purse from my desk, and leave my office.
When I enter, he’s on the phone, speaking in what I believe is fluent French. He nods his head toward the sitting area and I notice our lunch set out on the table. I walk over and have a seat on the modern white couch, digging into my salad. He finishes up a few moments later and joins me.
“How’s everything working out with Eliza?” he asks before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Good. She seems to have everything under control. I think you made a good choice, Hunt.”
“Well, I’m glad you approve. But I haven’t made my decision yet. I’ve been considering having someone else takeover.”
“Oh?” I ask then take a sip of my ice tea.
“Yes, I was thinking you.”
I nearly sip my drink all over the table and floor, but clasp my hand over my mouth before more than a few drips come out.
“What?” I cough out.
“Don’t you want the position?”
“Yes. No. I mean, eventually, once I’ve worked my way up to it. I don’t want to be handed anything, Hunt. You know this. You can’t treat me any different than any of your other employees.”
“Firstly, yes, I can. You’re my wife. Not some random person I have little interest in. I’m invested in your success and future. Secondly, it’s not as if you haven’t earned it. You’re a hard worker and know this magazine inside and out. I promote you because you’ve proved yoursel
f time and time again. I’m a great believer in rewarding when it’s earned.”
“I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it. I just want you to understand how it will look to my co-workers if I’m handed things on a silver platter.”
“Gabrielle, you deserve to have the world handed to you on a silver platter.” He leans in and takes my hand.
“Can we compromise?”
He smiles at me. “Of course, angel. What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not opposed to a promotion or even a raise, but I don’t want anything I feel I haven’t earned yet.”
He pauses and thinks about this for a moment, his face hardening.
“Alright,” he finally speaks, “you will take the position just under Eliza. Then, in a year’s time, you will assume the position of Editor-in-Chief.”
“Damian, you aren’t listening to me.”
“That’s my final offer. If you don’t take it, I will place you where I see fit.”
“I could just quit. You can’t make me anything if I refuse to show up.”
“Elle, we both know you won’t do it. You love to work and you love this magazine. You wouldn’t just up and quit.”
He’s right. I hate when he’s right.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate what he’s trying to do or that he’s in the position to do it. I really don’t want to seem like an ungrateful brat, but I’ve always felt that I should work for everything I get. However, ever since Hunt, it all comes so easily to me. Whatever I want, or even things I don’t, there for the taking. A person can become very accustomed to this life to the point that it possesses them rather than the other way around. I don’t want to depend on or even expect it.
“I will take the job. And, in a year, we can come back to it and decide then whether or not I’m ready to take over the magazine.”
He slowly shakes his head with an exaggerated sigh, a small smirk on his strong lips.
“What am I going to do with you, Elle?”
“Oh, I’m sure you could think of something, Damian,” I retort.
There’s a knock on the door, bringing our discussion to a halt. It opens and his new assistant, Miriah, steps inside.
“Sir, there’s someone here to see you.”
He narrows his eyes, going over something in his head. “I don’t have any appointments set.”
“No, sir. It’s your sister, Miss Montgomery.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“It’s…Olivia, sir.”
Why does this not surprise me?
I roll my eyes to myself then steal a peek at Hunt. The expression on his face is cold and vacant. I’m not sure how he feels about anything anymore. With all we’ve been through, I feel as though we’ve gone numb to everything but each other. I can’t help wonder if this will ever get better. Or will we just get used to being on shaky ground?
“Did you explain to her she isn’t welcome here? How did she get past the guards downstairs?”
“Yes, Mr. Hunt, I did. She says, it’s very important she speak with you.”
“I want you to ask her to wait for me a few moments…”
My face contorts with shocked puzzlement. “Damian, you can’t be serious.”
He shoots me a cocked brow. “Then, I want you to discreetly call security and have her removed. That’s all.”
“Yes, sir.” Miriah exits quickly. I think Hunt makes her nervous at times. He can be very domineering and stern, but he also treats his employees very well, which is why they seldom ever quit. Well, that, and I mean, look at him. Wouldn’t you want to see that face every day?
“You were saying?” he asks with an amused smirk gracing his striking face.
“I was saying you’re the best husband ever.”
“Uh-huh. Just eat your lunch,” I stab some lettuce and bring it to my mouth, “so I can help you work it off.”
Hunt
After I finished with Elle, serving her multiple orgasms for dessert, I sent her on her way. She could barely keep her head up she was so weak.
Once I’ve made a few calls, I head out of the office, needing to get a few things prepared at the D.O.D for tonight. I shake my head to myself, thinking about the level of dread I felt our first night at The Artemis when I finally revealed myself to her.
…
“You keep subs in some Dungeon of Domination?”
“Dungeon of Domination?” I’d thought it clever. Though her tone was less than desirable, I was sure I’d break her of that. What a fool I was. “Yes, I keep them there, but not against their will. They’re allowed to come and go as they please, as long as I know where they are.”
“Is there a girl there now?” she blurted, even though I’d already told her she’s the only one. I guess I couldn’t really blame her after the way I’d behaved toward her in the beginning. The truth was, I’d known there was something more between us, even then. I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself, but she had me on my knees.
“No,” I replied calmly, but I’d tensed slightly at the way she’d said it.
“Do you want me to be your sub?”
“Yes. I want you to give yourself to me.” I had never wanted anything more in my life. “However, I don’t want to treat you the way I did them. I would prefer to find a middle ground.”
I’d wanted to treat her like I did them. I’d wanted to do every shameless thing I could conjure to her, until we couldn’t even look ourselves in the mirror the next day. I didn’t want change. I was comfortable in my set ways. But I’d also known she wasn’t like the others. She was stronger-willed, harder to break. She was this wild thing I could never truly tame. And it was just as I wanted her. That fight is what drew me to her.
“How?” she murmured, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.
“You’ll be my submissive in the bedroom and when it’s beneficial to your well-being outside the bed. You’re my girlfriend, which means unlike them, you sleep in my bed, stay in my home, and we go out in public as a couple.”
“You would beat me.”
I’m not a fucking sadist, I’d thought to myself, anger seething in me. But outwardly, I’d kept my composure.
“No, I give vigorous spankings, but I don’t only do it as punishment. It’s quite pleasurable.” I was getting pleasure out of the idea of her bent over a bench, at my will, screaming with both cries of pleasure and pain.
“For whom? I’ll be the one with the throbbing raw ass.” Yes, you will, I thought, and you’ll fucking love it. “Wait, punishment?”
“Yes, I have guidelines about what I deem punishable. If I feel you are being naughty, I punish you.”
“Punish me?” she murmured in a dazed state but snapped out of it quickly. “I’m trying to comprehend the fact you’re a…Dom,” she said with a disgusted tone. I’d tensed up, offended by her blatant revulsion. I’d hated how she saw my lifestyle, saw me, as if I was some deviant looking to prey upon her.
“Yes, I am, and I won’t allow you to speak about it with distain. I will not be shamed by how I’ve chosen to live my life. I trust you enough to let you in, and you talk to me as if I’m shit. You could’ve simply said you aren’t interested and want me to take you home.”
I hadn’t wanted her to leave. I wanted to be with her. I would’ve done anything to call her mine. Truthfully, I was in love with her even then.
“I don’t want to go.”
My heart had stopped beating, and I took in a rapid breath. She wanted to stay. She wanted me, too.
“You don’t?” I inquired, bewildered.
“Well, if you want me to.”
She turned toward the elevator, and I snatched her up from behind, holding her supple body, soft and curvy, to mine.
“Never,” I whispered. “Once I tasted you, I was addicted. You’re mine.” I rested my face in her wind tossed hair and inhaled. “I don’t want you to think you’re required to do this. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“S&M isn’t som
ething you just stop. You obviously enjoy it, want it. How could I keep you from something you love?”
“I want you. I’ll take you any way I can get you. Even if it means I never take a paddle to your delightful ass.”
“I never said no,” she shakily whispered.
“You’ll consider?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice.
“Yes. I need a say in what can be done and how far you go. If you allow me that, I don’t see why I can’t try.” She faced me and gazed into my eyes with those entrancing blue globes. “You’ll find I can be an adventurous lover in the bedroom. I’m no innocent angel, even though you think I am. I may come off shy and virginal, but I’m only like that with you.”
I smashed her into me and brushed a wisp of hair away from her eyes. She stopped breathing at the affectionate gesture, the way my fingertips grazed against the smooth flesh of her forehead.
“I’m relieved you’re not. Your face is so angelic. I suppose I misread you. Once I told you, I was sure you would slap me and run out. I promise I won’t do anything to harm you. It is exceedingly important that you have complete involvement in what happens or doesn’t. This is a part of our arrangement and your role. I will go into more detail later.”
“Why do you do this?”
“It satisfies my urge to control, dominate, provide. What I do isn’t entirely tying up and beatings,” I replied flatly, displeased about how the world had chosen to paint the community.
“You’re a control freak,” she stated, but I saw the hint of a smile sweep across her full, pink lips.
I arced a brow, and a sly smirk spread across my lips. “I prefer to think of myself as a control aficionado or devotee of discipline.”
…
I walk across the street and into the lobby, striding toward the elevator. When I arrive, it opens and an older couple steps out, clutching to each other. I smile at them as they pass me, imagining Elle and me when we’re old and gray, after a lifetime of love and memories.
I step inside, thinking about how much has happened over the past year, the highs and lows, and how far we’ve come. As the doors are closing, someone slips in. When I look up, I find myself staring into the eyes of one of the lows.