by J. A. Kerr
Who knew better than Anna, how to recognise these emotions? She gasped as the pain intensified, the humiliation made her face hot while the rejection made her eyes sting. She lay with her arm over her face but didn’t cry, couldn’t cry as her emotions ran riot. When she heard the front door open and close she tensed. His footsteps were heavy and equally slow on the steps and then she heard him enter the room. She stared at him.
“How long have you been seeing her, Robert?”
“Anna, it’s not what you think…”
“Robert, she was touching you. Don’t lie, do you love her?”
Robert face sagged as he whispered, “Yes, I’m sorry, Anna.”
That omission was a grenade blowing her world apart but her voice was steady and composed. She closed her eyes.
“Where did you meet her?”
“She owns the deli I buy my lunch from,” he said reluctantly. “Her name is—”
“I don’t want to know her name, Robert. How long have you been seeing each other?”
Although her eyes were closed, she could feel his discomfort.
“Anna, I didn’t plan this…it just happened. You of all people cannot judge me,” Robert replied coldly.
“Oh, but I can judge you because that’s exactly what you did. You made me pay for my mistake, Robert.”
“For Christ’s sake, Anna, look at me,” shouted Robert.
Anna slowly took her hand away from her face and opened her eyes. Who she saw was not her husband anymore. He was just a man she knew, a man she had…loved, but now everything was different, she was different.
“Anna, you’re upset, but we’ll get over this,” said Robert unconvincingly.
“Just get out,” she sighed.
“Okay, I’ll give you some space,” said Robert, sounding relieved.
Anna closed her eyes, and when she opened them again he was gone. She curled into a ball as thoughts of Guy filled her head, of what she had done with him, and to him. She had been cruel to protect herself and to protect her marriage. What a fool she’d been. Robert had got his revenge, and she had been so caught up in herself she hadn’t noticed his infidelity. She thought hard until she saw the things that should have started alarm bells. Robert had been dressing smarter and his mood was brighter, happier than it had been in months. Dread filled Anna’s stomach when she realised that while she had been sinking deeper and deeper into depression, Robert had been flourishing. He hadn’t answered her question about the length of his affair but Anna knew deep down it could be lengthy.
Why then had he responded when she had kissed him? Why hadn’t he brushed her off? Instead they had made love violently, passionately, but was Robert thinking of her…his mistress while he thrust into Anna? She realised, she was experiencing everything he must have felt when he discovered her and Guy making love, at least she had been spared that.
Anna felt so cold. She’d made a mess of everything. All she held dear in her life was systematically ruined, and now she had nothing left. She saw Guy in her mind, shoulders slumped, head lowered, and knew she had done that to him. The thought she’d hurt him was almost unbearable. However, she hadn’t been thinking of Guy, but of Robert. She had used Guy. Left him to go to her adulterous husband. She cringed as she remembered the way they parted and felt the first tear slide down her face.
Chapter 31
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: Guy is nervous. He licked his lips, shaking as he waited for his key to vibrate. Arousal, mixed with the unique fragrance of ‘Caligo,’ the club’s signature scent, had his body and mind tingling and tightening. His preferences for The Stoicum Zone had been cautious. He is a beginner, but as he thought of his selected patron, he knew he must learn his limits quickly, then extend them.
London 2014
Siena
Siena rolled over and groaned; her head felt like it was going to implode. She cracked one eye open and looked at Benedict. His face was smooth and serene as he slept, his arm thrown around her possessively. He didn’t stir as she slipped out of the bed and pulled on her robe. Her parents had already volunteered to get up with the twins and they had both been able to sleep late, something Siena needed badly at the moment. Padding into the en-suite, she needed pain medication for her head. She ignored the other door. It led to the temporary safe room. She still thought it was an overreaction but Benedict had been insistent and she realised it was one battle she could not win.
Too much whiskey gave her a headache. She filled a glass with water and swallowed the pills. Fragments of the night filtered through her fog. Gasping, she remembered what she’d agreed to. She needed coffee and quietly left the bedroom, her mind in turmoil. As she poured the strong black liquid into a mug and sipped it, she felt marginally better. There was a note from her parents saying they had taken the twins out for breakfast, something they did often. They were fourteen months now and thriving. She thought of their new home and longed for it to be finished.
Most women would salivate at the prospect of a brand new interior, including kitchen, bathrooms, and swimming pool. However, already busy with work and the twins, Siena was struggling to find the time. Benedict’s flare was visible throughout the project. Instinctually he’d made the right design decisions, but this was her home too. She resolved to carve out more time in her diary for those important finishing touches.
She loved Sunday mornings after a night out—it was their alone time as a couple. Her parents’ routine of staying over when they babysat, then taking the twins out the next morning was a godsend. They had rented an apartment in London to be close to Siena during the trial and she had needed their support. A picture of them with the twins filled her head, making her smile. The twins behaved better with her parents. She prayed this was still the case because they were a handful, and so was their father. She thought of Benedict, about what he did to her, and couldn’t believe she agreed to get married…again. It wasn’t Benedict—she loved him—but the legacy of Nick that made the idea unappealing.
Benedict had outsmarted her. She must find a distraction. Something to divert him from steamrollering her into a wedding. However, her tired mind did not come up with any immediate solutions. Okay, if she couldn’t find a diversion then she would use it as a bargaining tool. Their date nights were successful but Siena wanted to participate in the zones, something Benedict was resisting. The meeting with Ford had been exciting and the technology he was developing needed thorough testing before they could use it on their members. Maybe Benedict would be more open to the zones if incorporated into their development meetings. Guy had mentioned a new member who had a high tolerance to touch, perfect for the sensory suit he had in mind.
***
Benedict
Having crept downstairs and tip-toed into the kitchen, Benedict had been watching Siena for a while as she sat deep in thought sipping her coffee. He was no fool. Although stung by her unenthusiastic response to his marriage proposal, he understood her reluctance. She would argue that the ink was hardly dry on her divorce. His lawyer had already drawn up the necessary legal documents. He would forfeit all rights to her fortune. Should they ever divorce, he only asked that all their business dealings be split fairly after her initial investment had been repaid. The thought was ridiculous to Benedict; he would never let her go. He ran it past Carl and he gave him his blessing but Benedict sensed his unease. Carl understood Benedict’s reasons but wasn’t sure Siena would.
He must act with speed; everything needed to be booked. The twins were being looked after by Siena’s parents, the rest was up to him. He had spent a long time choosing their rings, the dotted Braille inscription on the back close to both their hearts. He had been uncertain what inscription to use but at last had settled on the words that Siena had spoken herself.
Only your touch leaves a memory.
Her touch had started everything. Her touch ignited his sealed emotions—emotions he thought he had lost forever. There was an old saying about the position of your wedding ri
ng. He had slipped the band on. It felt strange, the platinum metal cold against his skin as his thumb ran over the inscription again and again. To ensure a strong marriage the wedding band was placed on the third finger of the left hand, a symbol of the love connected directly to your heart. It went back to an old belief that there was a vein running down your left arm into your finger direct from your heart, since the heart is on the left side of the body. Well Siena certainly had his, and he knew he had hers. These rings would symbolise their commitment to each other, if he could get her to wear it. She sensed him and turned, her smile a little strained as he moved nearer and wound his arms around her. Just the touch of her enthralled him. He ran his fingers down her arms and she shivered.
“I’m not feeling great,” Siena murmured, leaning into him.
“I think I know something that will make you feel better,” said Benedict, dipping his head and kissing her.
He felt the softness of her lips as their mouths connected, their tongues quickly entwining as their passion erupted. He hoped it would always be this way, that her kiss would always consume him and leave him wanting more. His whole body came alive…his hands slipped over her body, touching her, his tongue tasting her, completely focused, he wanted more.
“Do you remember what you promised?” he rasped.
“Yes, but I have one condition,” Siena replied.
Benedict pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “And that would be?”
“I want us to join the zone sessions at the Braille Club. It brought us together and it will keep us together,” said Siena firmly.
Benedict hesitated; he felt trapped, but his agreement meant gaining a wife, something he wanted very badly.
“You win.” He smiled, pulling her closer again.
“You promise?” Siena said suspiciously, feeling he had agreed too easily.
“Cross my heart,” Benedict said solemnly as he drew a cross on his chest.
“We’re not in grade school, Benedict,” said Siena, irritated. “I’m serious; I want you completely on board.”
Benedict’s eyes studied her face; he liked to watch her.
“You have my word, now we need to hurry if we’re going to the airport.”
“Airport?” said Siena, confused.
Benedict bent his head and kissed her, their passion as volatile as ever until Siena broke free, panting.
“Benedict? You said airport…”
His lips were on her neck, his hands on her flesh, and she suddenly lost her train of thought as hot desire pulsed through her. She craved him, his touch igniting responses that made her body and mind lose all control.
“Where?” he murmured, into her neck.
“Here,” she gasped.
Benedict was swift. With one tug her robe was opened and his mouth bent inside. Siena’s hands pulled at his hair as she moaned; she wanted him inside her. She looked around the kitchen, her eyes settling on the sofa, and moved in that direction. They barely made it there before he was thrusting inside her, fast and intense; they climaxed with their mouths locked together.
Benedict wanted to continue but reluctantly sat up. “We've got an hour before the taxi arrives.”
“What are you talking about?” said Siena, exasperated.
“We’re going to Amsterdam, we’ve got an appointment.”
He’d thought about Tiffany but wanted Siena to select the diamond herself. It would represent their bond and he wanted something unique. The cut and clarity of the diamond must be chosen with care. He knew he was flawed forever, but with Siena by his side it was hidden beneath their love.
He saw surprise register and her eyes lit up before a look of suspicion crossed her face. “Why are we going to Amsterdam?” she demanded.
“Come with me and find out,” he said cryptically. He explained her parents would look after the twins and they would be gone for two nights. He had arranged for Ellie to help out and begrudgingly, his stepmother.
***
Siena
Benedict’s opaque eyes cleared and brightened with an intensity that had Siena nodding her head in agreement. As they settled on the plane, her mind buzzed with a plethora of feelings. She wasn’t stupid, she knew Amsterdam was the diamond capital of the world. Benedict seemed to sense her uncertainty as his fingers laced through hers. Just his touch made her body hum, she was conscious of his leg pressed against hers, his thumb tracing lazy patterns on her palm, sending shivers down her spine. She was aroused, her breathing erratic as his thumb traced around her wrist, his touch slow and sensual. They remained connected throughout the flight, every touch he gave her igniting an inner spark. When they landed he draped her coat around her shoulders, his fingers brushing down the length of her back, sending shockwaves of desire rushing through her. He took their luggage from the overhead lockers and she watched as his muscles tensed. They moved off the plane, his hand gripping hers.
His thumb absently caressed her. Momentarily closing her eyes, she imagined it caressing other parts of her. In love and in lust, he awakened a raw passion she found hard to control. She saw the way women looked at him and then looked at her, their stare openly hostile. She saw them preening, a mixture of hope then disappointment, when they failed to register on his radar. He tugged her closer as they left the airport to meet their private transfer. As the driver took their luggage he put his thumb to her lips, his other hand lightly brushing against her breast as he drew her close and kissed her. It was like an adrenalin shot straight to her core as her senses flared in reply but the kiss was over in seconds, leaving her hungry for more. He opened the car door, and she slid inside, the journey a blur as she tried to quell her libido.
She was disappointed not to pull up at the hotel but outside a building instead. Benedict told the driver to wait. He led her inside and up a flight of stairs that were poorly lit. She wanted to pull him into a doorway, kiss him, consume him, rip his clothes from him, but instead she followed. His hand slipped inside her coat and around her waist, scorching her skin.
As they climbed the stairs his hand slid up and down, brushing her breast repeatedly. They were both panting when they reached the top floor but not from the climb, her core was on fire, her legs weak, and she almost stumbled but his strong arms steadied her. Again he brought his thumb to her lips. As she sucked on it desperately, he rang the doorbell.
A voice instructed them to stand in front of the camera. Benedict pulled her with him and the door clicked open. They entered a hallway and were met by a security guard. He led them into a grand traditional room where they were seated in front of a large impressive desk. The man that entered from a door to the side was old but his eyes were razor sharp. He smiled at them both.
“As per your instructions, these are the best in my collection.” He smiled. He placed the tray on the desk and sat down.
Siena, on Benedict’s direction, inserted the eye piece. He picked up the first diamond in front of him and turned it in the light. It was spectacular—its cut, clarity, and colour marked it as being of the highest quality. Siena leaned in, transfixed by its beauty and brilliance. They looked at the full display but Siena’s eyes returned to the first diamond Benedict had lifted. Her heart was beating wildly as she realised she wanted it. It had spoken to her, somehow standing out from the crowd, although it was in illustrious company.
“I want the first diamond,” said Siena with conviction.
“First impressions are lasting ones,” the man behind the desk remarked. “Excellent choice, she is the star of my collection. I will miss her,” he stated wistfully.
“I will forward her directly to Tiffany’s, as per your instructions.”
Benedict stood and thanked him, his hand gripping Siena’s as they turned to leave. The lift was there waiting and without hesitation they moved inside. As soon as the doors closed he kissed her, his tongue electric in her mouth. His hands were on her breasts as his tongue probed and thrust deeper and deeper. He only broke the kiss when they stopped on the groun
d floor, smoothing his fingers over her jumper, closing her coat to conceal her obvious arousal. Mercifully the journey to the hotel was short, their impatience at check-in making the receptionist nervous. The lift was busy but finally Benedict was opening their room door. They ripped at their clothes. She was drenched in desire, her sex slick when he entered her. She whispered his name in ecstasy, at last receiving what she needed most…him.
Chapter 32
The Braille Club, London, One Year On: Guy waited; the altered suit felt different as he sat surrounded by darkness, his breathing rapid and uneven. The bell indicating the Patron’s arrival had his mind in free fall. The touch when it came was light, making him tense as the Stoicum Restraints were slipped on. Already he hated the loss of control—the sensation pushed him out of his comfort zone. He rarely participated as an Assignee. The touch on his shoulder made him shiver; it indicated the start of this new and darker experience.
London 2014
Guy
Guy was shaken when Anna left. He sat there trying to calm his emotions. Rage, disappointment, love, and longing competed against each other. They say the first cut is the deepest—well, he thought bitterly, they were right. The wound that had healed slowly over the last two years suddenly burst open. There was only one way to stop the bleeding.
Guy must cauterise his feelings for Anna once and for all if he was to have any chance of recovering. He moved his hand over his heart and winced at the tenderness of his flesh. His pain, her pleasure…there was no place for love amongst that. He was sitting listening to a Braille playlist when Bruno Mars’ song, “Grenade,” suddenly epitomised his relationship with Anna, the lyrics striking an uneasy chord. As he listened to the melody, his heart ached, the lyrics almost poignant in their accuracy.