Cleave (Cutting Cords Series Book 3)

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Don’t be disrespectful.”

  “I think it works both ways.”

  Trent grabbed me by the arm and hauled me up to his chest. “You’re not going.”

  “I’m afraid you have no say in my decision.”

  “You dare to disobey me after what I’ve put you through this month?”

  “I’m meeting Cole to talk. I give you my word that nothing else will happen. I have no intention of spending the rest of my life as your fucking slave.”

  “You can bet I won’t want you if you walk out the door.”

  The sirens were going off in my head, warning me to cool it and back off, but I was sick and tired of paying the price for one mistake. It had been a very long month of groveling, and the little bit of patience I had in reserve evaporated in the wake of my anger. “I could have just met him,” I snapped, “and you’d never have been the wiser, but I chose to tell you the truth because I foolishly believed you trusted me. Apparently I was mistaken, and you are always going to assume the worst.”

  “That’s crap and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t. You’re still punishing me when I thought I’d already made amends.”

  His arms were like a vise around my chest, and I felt like I was suffocating. I’d had it with being told what I could or couldn’t do. I spat out the word, “Queen!”

  “What?” Trent looked shocked and let me go immediately. In all the months we’d been together, I’d never used my safeword. I was surprised he even remembered what it was.

  “You heard me, Master. Queen… queen… queen!”

  The color leached out of his face, and his jaws were clamped so tight I was worried he’d crack a molar. “Sloan?”

  “I’m outta here.” I spun around, grabbed my coat off the hanger, and left him gaping after me. As luck would have it, a Yellow Cab was driving down the street, and I put my fingers in my mouth and blew. It came to a grinding halt a few feet away from the curb. Trent rushed out just as we pulled away, and the expression on his face was indescribable. Had I finally destroyed our relationship by this impulsive move? Why couldn’t he trust me to do the right thing? Before I could change my mind, the gum-chewing cabbie asked me where I was headed and agreed to drive me to Grand Central.

  Cole and Freddie were right where they were supposed to be―under the big clock. It’s where we would meet years ago whenever we used this venue for a photo shoot. I had a déjà vu moment, and I was suddenly filled with sadness and overwhelmed by the bitterness I’d felt upon hearing Trent’s accusation. I had really hoped we’d moved beyond this, but seeing his reaction to my request was devastating. Not having his trust was far worse than wondering if he loved me. He had yet to say the words, and after today, I didn’t hold out much hope of ever hearing them in this lifetime.

  I walked up to Cole and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m here.”

  He smiled, and it hit me in the gut like a wild punch. Maybe it had to do with the timing and the way I’d left it with Trent, but whatever power Cole had over my emotions refused to stay buried. It was like the fucking undead patrolling the underworld. Why? I honestly had no clue.

  “What’s so goddamn important?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Let’s find somewhere more private.”

  Yeah, right. The last time I heard those words had been the start of our misadventure. “I’m sure there’s a coffee shop in the building.”

  “Lead the way,” Cole said, and we hooked arms, like we had a million times before. I automatically pulled him a little closer to keep him safe. Old habits were as hard to kill as the emotional bloodsuckers.

  We found a coffee shop not far from the train station. It was a relief to get away from the icy wind blowing in through the avenues. I was freezing, and my ears were ready to fall off. I suppose it had to do with the summer attire underneath my cashmere coat.

  “I’d like a hot chocolate,” I said to the waitress as soon as she showed up with a menu.

  “I’ll have the same.”

  “With marshmallows,” we both requested at the same time.

  She laughed at us and said, “You guys married, or what?”

  “Or what,” I replied soberly. Her casual remark felt like getting doused with ice water, a perfect way to ruin an otherwise fun moment.

  After she returned with our cups and we’d had a few sips, I asked again. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m starting to think I’ve misjudged Noriko.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s as much a victim in this drama as you and I.”

  I did my best to keep my opinions in check but failed miserably. With supercilious scorn, I drawled, “Really.”

  “Don’t be so judgmental. You’ve hated her from the first.”

  “With good reason.”

  “Because I made mistakes and should have handled things differently.”

  “That is the understatement of the century.”

  “I’m trying to have a decent conversation without it turning into another round of accusations.”

  “As if.”

  “What?”

  “I still gave a fuck.”

  “Don’t you? Can you honestly tell me you don’t care?”

  “Caring is far different from loving, and I no longer love you.”

  “You’re in love with Trent?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’d like to know.”

  “What do you hope to gain from this conversation?”

  “Noriko has given me the green light to have a partner outside of marriage. She has no objections to me sleeping with a guy so long as she and I remain married.”

  I could feel my ass lifting off my seat, ready to lunge at him or walk away, whichever came first. “You can’t mean what I think you mean.”

  “I need her, Sloan, but I need you more.”

  “Me or a cock?”

  “Isn’t it one and the same?”

  “You bastard,” I said, standing abruptly and rattling my cup. Hot chocolate sloshed over the rim and left an unsightly mess. Normally, I would have made an attempt to clean it up, but I was too humiliated to care. Not for the first time, Cole had reduced me to a piece of meat. “Get a fucking butt plug and shove it up your ass.”

  “Sloan, that came out all wrong.”

  “No, Cole. You meant every goddamn word. You’re still intent on having everything: the wife, the kids, and the boy toy on the side. Guess what, Shogun. I didn’t buy into it then, and I’m not even close to wanting it now.”

  “Sloan, I would be fully committed to you.”

  “Until Christmas and Thanksgiving came around and you’d have to be with your family, in other words, your mother and sisters with Noriko and the boys by your side.”

  “Well, naturally.”

  Blood rushed to my head and I almost strangled him. Freddie must have whiffed my murderous vibe because he raised his head and showed some teeth, reining in my impulse. I wanted to hurt Cole, but he wasn’t worth any jail time.

  Struggling to regain control, I parroted, “Naturally?”

  “They would have to take priority.”

  Un-fucking-believable. “Your offer is rejected. I need a partner who puts me ahead of anyone else.”

  “Think of the upside, Sloan.”

  I laughed scornfully. “There’s an upside?”

  “You’d have me without all my baggage.”

  Chapter 16

  Cole remained silent until we got in the cab, but once the doors were shut, the debate continued. He probably realized this would be his final opportunity to win me over, and since I was a captive audience, I had to endure another heartfelt entreaty before I saw him safely to his front door.

  “Why are you so indignant, Sloan? I’ve apologized ad nauseam. My father left me no choice and unfortunately you were collateral damage. Can’t you see I’m drowning here? You’re the only one who can rescue me.”
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  “Shut up or I’ll jump out of this cab.”

  Cole grabbed my hand to keep me from going through with my threat. “Please consider my proposal. We were happy once. There’s no reason we can’t find harmony in this unusual arrangement. Think of Noriko as a glorified nanny. She’s promised to stay out of our way.”

  Small explosions were going off in my brain as I listened to Cole trying to rationalize his preposterous suggestion. When I finally found my voice, I unleashed it with little regard for his feelings. “First of all, I don’t love you the way I used to. Secondly, anyone with an ounce of self-respect would be outraged by your fucked-up solution to this farce you call a marriage. You’re playing the sympathy card to deaf ears. I don’t care what happens to you or anyone in your household.”

  His shocked intake of breath would have gutted me in the past, but I was beyond caring. I was so angry I wanted to pummel him to the ground. What in hell happened since we’d parted ways? Had he gone completely insane? Before exiting the cab, he tried one last time.

  “Please, Sloan.”

  “Get out.”

  “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  “Don’t keep the light on, you asshole.” I gave him a gentle shove and slammed the door behind him. Instead of going home, I had the cabbie pull over on 13th Street, a few blocks away from Cole’s place, deciding to walk toward Washington Square. There were several gay bars in the area, and I could hang out for a while and try to figure out what I was going to do about Trent. He’d pissed me off, almost as much as Cole, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of another confrontation. We both needed time to cool down. Tin would have made a handy shoulder to cry on, but he was back in France visiting family, so my options were narrowed down to strangers at a bar. Even Max was out of the question since he had too much invested in me and couldn’t possibly be objective. It had been almost three hours since I’d left the studio, and I was sure I’d be hearing from him shortly, for no other reason than I was messing with his photo shoot. Well, he could join the mob and go fuck himself.

  Trying to stay upright on the icy sidewalk with my hands in my pockets and my head bent against the wind was difficult. I’d made a mistake by getting out of the cab in this weather. The impulse to walk out my problem was derailed by my frozen extremities. I darted into the first doorway and let out a sigh of relief. I’d stumbled into an Irish pub, and the wood burning stove on one side of the room gave the place a homey feel, as did the smell of freshly baked bread and hops. The rumbling in my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything substantial since breakfast, and I slid onto a barstool, hoping to grab a bite to eat.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked, sliding a paper coaster and a basket full of pretzels toward me. His Irish accent brought back memories of the trip Trent and I had taken last year after the photo shoot in London. We’d traveled across the UK, Scotland, and Ireland, staying at B&Bs along the way. The atmosphere in this cozy bar was similar to many of the places we’d visited, as was the friendly manner of the attractive man in front of me. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties and had the kind of face and body that would have caught my interest under normal circumstances. Longish brown hair brushed the collar of the blue twill shirt he wore rolled up at the sleeves.

  “I’d kill for a bowl of soup and some bread.”

  “There’s no need to be slaughterin’ anyone, lad. I’ll dish up some stew, and in the meantime, have a glass of the black stuff to knock off the chill, yeah?”

  “Sounds great. Thank you.”

  “Drink up.” He slid a frothy mug in front of me and disappeared through the swing door toward the kitchen.

  The dark beer went down easily and warmed my belly just like he’d predicted. Glancing around, I noticed the little details which made this particular bar so inviting. The rough-hewn doors and worn counters gave a natural feel to the place, along with the brick walls and murals depicting scenes from Ireland. I’d inhaled half the glass of beer by the time the bartender came back with a large bowl. There were utensils rolled up in a white linen napkin and a basket of warm bread with a crock of whipped butter.

  “God, this looks good.”

  He nodded at my enthusiasm. “Aye, go on then,” he said, watching me with forest green eyes that crinkled at the corners.

  It was delicious, and I caught myself humming with pleasure as I spooned mouthful after mouthful of the hearty stew, filled with winter vegetables and hefty chunks of beef. He replaced my empty glass of beer with a fresh one, and by the time I’d consumed my meal, I’d had three glasses of the dark ale, which went straight to my head.

  “Are you nice and toasty?”

  “Yes… you saved my life.”

  “Why don’t you take off the coat?”

  “I didn’t realize it was still on.” I shrugged off the heavy coat, and he gaped at my summer attire.

  “Have you lost your way to the beach, lad?”

  I laughed at his perplexed look. “I’m a model, and we were doing a photo shoot for cruise wear.”

  “In the snow?”

  “The fashion industry is two seasons ahead.”

  “So it is. ’Tis hard modeling?”

  “It can be.”

  “Where are the rest of your crew?”

  “Fuck if I know. I had a big fight with my current boyfriend, and then I had an argument with my former lover. I didn’t really plan on strolling around in the elements today. Things just happened.”

  “Jaysus!”

  “It all boils down to sex, you know?”

  “Aye.” He bobbed his head in sympathy. “Was your man playin’ away then?”

  “What?” I tried to interpret his words, but I was struggling. I remembered feeling like an alien in Scotland and parts of the UK. Their English was nowhere close to mine, and the heavy brogue made it almost impossible to understand. Trent and I would double over with laughter when we invariably got things wrong.

  “You know, with another?”

  “Cheating? Are you kidding? It’s me who’s entangled in this tug of war between two men.” I had no idea why I was telling this guy anything, but he seemed like a good listener, and there was no one else in the bar. It was three thirty in the afternoon, not a really popular time to be hanging out, so I took advantage of his good nature and poured out my woes.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, after he topped off my mug.

  “Bryce Fletcher, at your service.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I replied. “Sloan Driscoll here.”

  “So what’s got you in a tick?”

  “You sound like an ad for Irish Spring.”

  “Damn, and here I thought I was a right proper New Yorker.” Bryce smiled.

  “Not by a mile,” I joked.

  “So why are you drownin’ your sorrows in my good beer?”

  “Apparently all I’m good for is sex.”

  “Oh?”

  “What I thought was a romance has turned out to be nothing but a power struggle with my cock as the prize.”

  “You must be hung.”

  “Like a fucking bull, but that’s beside the point.”

  Bryce burst out laughing. “I beg to disagree, especially if you’re gay.”

  “Listen,” I slurred, feeling the effects of the beer in a big way. “I’m way more than eight inches of meat. I have a functioning brain and a heart he’s neglecting.”

  “Aye, so you do.”

  I slumped down and rested my head on my forearm. I was so disgusted by the recent confrontation with Trent. The last thing I wanted was to jump right back into another scene. Being his slave had been worthwhile when I thought he loved and respected me, but it was woefully apparent he didn’t love or understand me. No matter what had transpired between Cole and me, I wasn’t going to allow Trent to punish me for worrying, even if the person was a delusional piece of shit. If my master couldn’t trust me enough to allow a conversation with Cole, there was no hope for any kind of future
between us. Just using the word “allow” grated on my last nerve. I’d turned into a subservient shadow of myself, and look where it got me. Not one bit closer to finding my happy ending.

  “Are you in love with either one of these contenders?”

  “I love Trent,” I replied with certainty. There was no doubt in my mind, but I needed more than sex and domination. He had to realize I wanted a partner who could not only fulfill my needs, but one who was willing to trust me with his heart as well. So far, all I’d seen was the alpha who’d taken over my life in a big way. Granted, he was sensitive to my every nuance, something Cole had initially lacked, but I needed to see the other side of Trent, the man who’d be willing to share his deepest fears just as I had shared mine. Not for the first time, I wondered what had made him so afraid of intimacy. Had he been imprisoned and tortured? Was he raped? What made him balk whenever I initiated anal sex?

  “Tell me about him,” Bryce said, shaking me out of my dreamy state. I lifted my head off my arm and gave him what I could only assume was a sloppy grin. I was feeling no pain, and my words just tumbled out. “He’s gorgeous and so damn smart he can almost read my mind. And he fucks like a god.”

  “You connect?”

  “In a very big way.”

  “You can tell him your innermost thoughts?”

  I nodded. “He knows it all and doesn’t judge me, until recently that is.”

  “What happened?”

  I told him the whole story, starting with Cole’s decision to have children and ending up with the funeral fuck. I don’t know why I needed a stranger’s take on the whole thing, but he was impartial and might offer some insight.

  “This Cole is a right cute hoor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s clever and wantin’ it all. I don’t much like him.”

  “Neither does Trent.”

  “Did you have to go and shag him then?”

  “I didn’t plan it!”

  “And confessin’ to top it all.”

  “I had to, Bryce.”

  “And what did himself do?”

  “Punish the hell out of me.”

  “With a beatin’?”