“A younger model, yes. A better model, definitely.” Edward’s charm wasn’t enough to counteract the repugnant stranger, but I held my tongue, gritting my teeth.
Since I hadn’t been directly spoken to, there was no reason for me to speak.
Esteban moved closer, his eyes leaving foul stains on my skin. “Tell me, does she like to play the way your last one does? Should I have you escorted to the Resistance Room?” He reached out to run his knuckles across my jaw, and I flinched.
I didn’t even want to know what the Resistance Room was. The name alone made me shudder. Though the suggestion that Marion had been there with Edward in the past spiked a curious jealousy.
Edward wrapped his arm around my waist, subtly pulling me into his side and out of Esteban’s reach. “We’re still learning what we like, at the moment. Tonight, we have something specific planned, however. The Base is open, isn’t it?”
The man tsked. “Never any time for fun with you, is there? Yes. There are a handful of other workaholics already down there. Just a moment, and I’ll summon one of my angels to take you there.”
I followed his eyes as they landed on a woman I hadn’t noticed before, wearing a white bikini and kneeling on the rough wood floor near the bar. Her head was down, but as Esteban clapped a syncopated rhythm, she looked up, then stood when she saw him gesture her over.
The whole interaction gave me the creeps. I’d studied the submissive thing, of course, seen it played out at The Open Door, and I could admit to seeing an appeal. But after Edward’s hint that some of the women here might not just be submissive, but, rather, slaves, I didn’t have the stomach for it.
My expression must have given me away because Edward shook his head. “No need. I well know the way. Take care, if we don’t see you again on the way out.”
Esteban flicked his hand, dismissing his angel with a glower before beaming again at my husband. “That’s too bad you don’t have time to stay awhile. It would be a delight to watch you break your bride in. The learning phase is definitely the most fun.”
His lecherous stare made my hand fly up to fiddle with my necklace, covering myself with my arm.
Edward understood, already steering me away as he gave his parting words. “Yes, indeed. Still, you know I prefer to do the learning in private.”
“Forgive me for hoping you’d changed,” Esteban called back, followed by more words in Spanish.
Then we were walking out of the arena down another planked path, and I let out an audible sigh of relief. “That man is disgusting.”
“He is,” Edward agreed. “Which is why I try to come here only when I need to.”
“When you ‘need’ to?” His response had a thousand reactions warring in my head. What kind of business did Edward need to do with men that associated with Esteban? And what kind of playing had my husband done here in the past? “I’m sure you needed to bring Marion here,” I said, the most petty of my thoughts making it to my lips first.
“I didn’t need to bring Marion here as much as she needed to be brought here. For very different reasons than you need to be here. The needs that I’ve had met here have not been sexual, though I have enjoyed those activities here on occasion.” The path wound through more forest, breaking off here and there to lead to one structure or another. Signs indicated where the routes led with names that had my head spinning such as Mistreatment Room and Sharing Sector and Recovery Center.
I tried to ignore the distractions of my surroundings and concentrated on what Edward had said. There were questions I should be asking, questions about what he thought I needed here and what needs he had met. I was terrified of what his answers might be, but that wasn’t why I didn’t ask. My preoccupation with his former wife held too much power over me.
“You said Marion was submissive. Like that woman back there? Esteban’s angel?”
“Mm.”
“Did she kneel like that for you? Would she come when you summoned her with just a snap of your fingers?”
He studied me as we walked, looking for what, I wished I knew so I could be careful not to show him. Not that he could see much behind the mask, but hiding from Edward was never truly possible.
“She did,” he said after several silent steps. “When it fit appropriately into our lives. Which wasn’t as often as she would have liked.”
“What about you? Did you like it when she obeyed?”
“Very much.”
My chest burned, and I blinked away the white spots in front of my eyes. I didn’t have to dissect myself too much to understand my anger was with myself, not Marion. As much as I admittedly liked the times that Edward took control and dominated me, I could never be so docile as to kneel in a corner waiting to be summoned. I could never be completely obedient. And because Edward liked it, I wished I could be that. Longed for that nature with a desperation that ached as it rattled against my ribs.
“Is that what you want with me?” My voice was barely over a whisper. We hadn’t even discussed what kind of future we might have, if we had one at all, and here I was asking like we’d decided we’d try.
But this answer felt important, like it might decide whether or not a future was something we should even discuss.
“Complete submission?” he asked, seeming to consider his response carefully. “I don’t believe that’s what you want to give me.”
His ability to always see me usually made me feel divine. Right now, it made me feel like a bug on a windshield. I’d been flying high in our relationship until this topic smacked me in the face.
I pulled away from his hand at my back and stopped walking. “I’m not asking what you believe I want. I’m asking what you want.”
He went another couple of steps before he realized I’d halted. When he turned back, his brow was furrowed, his expression impatient. “This wasn’t exactly the place I planned to have this conversation, nor the time. But if you need to hear something, I’ll make it simple. I want to own you. Does that mean I want you kneeling at my feet like a well-trained dog? No, it absolutely does not. It does mean I want respect and deference, and yes, obedience, in measures that I believe you’d like to give, even if you don’t know that you would. I definitely think you’re capable. Most primarily, though, I need there to be honesty and trust between us. You didn’t answer before—do you trust me?”
It was my turn to wear furrowed brows. His words made me feel warm and hopeful, but also hesitant, because what if he was wrong about what I could give? What if he was wrong about who I really was?
And because I had those doubts, it was hard to say that I exactly trusted him.
Honesty. He wanted honesty.
“I trust you, Edward, as well as I can right now. With as much as I can.”
His eyes flashed with disappointment, so fast I almost was unsure I’d seen it. “That’s a start. Let me ask you something smaller, then. Do you trust me with you here tonight? Do you trust that I have only your best interests in mind? Do you trust that I know what you can and can’t handle, that I will care for you body and soul until we leave this island?”
I bit my lip, considering. It was a fair question. We were at a sex club, a place where trust was important, and I wanted to be here with him, even though he still scared me.
He scared me, but he’d never truly hurt me. And more than once he’d understood what I wanted and needed better than I did myself.
“Yes, I trust you,” I finally answered. “But it doesn’t mean that I’m not worried too.”
He smiled slyly as he crossed the few steps back to me. Tipping my chin up with the knuckle of a crooked finger, he said, “I enjoy your apprehension as much as I enjoy your submission. I think this will work out just fine.”
“Okay,” I said tentatively. But there were still so many questions about what he wanted from me, what respect and deference and obedience looked like. What he expected out of our marriage. What he expected from me. “What about—?”
He cut me off. “The rest
can wait.” He nodded to the sign at the path that veered behind him. The Base. “We’re here.”
Twenty-Six
My knees were shaking as we approached the unassuming building before us. There were no windows, which made it all the more intimidating. The only kind of buildings I could think of without windows were the scary kind—prisons, dungeons. I shivered at the possibilities.
A security guard stood outside the two large wooden doors, which didn’t help my trepidation. Especially when he scanned us both with a wand before we were allowed to enter. So Esteban didn’t want weapons in his play spaces. Did he prefer to provide them himself?
As soon as the guard had cleared us for entry, I stopped Edward, grabbing him by the arm. “I know what I said to you about being able to take anything that you could dish, but I gotta tell you—I was all talk. I really don’t like pain. Not real pain. I mean, the spankings are nice, but whips and floggers and other torture devices just aren’t my thing. If you’re really into them, I’ll try. I really will, but I already know I’m not going to be very good at it because even the idea has me sweating and scared, and please don’t make me do it. Please, Edward, please.”
The guard laughed out loud behind me. “Newbie?”
Edward, at least, tried to hide his amusement. “I think it’s obvious,” he answered, then focused on me. “Why don’t you step inside and take a look around before you work yourself into a panic?”
I pursed my lips. It was bad enough that I was terrified. Worse to be laughed at.
But Edward’s voice was calm and his hand at my back, soothing. “Fine,” I agreed, hoping my heart didn’t beat out of my chest.
With a small smile, he wrapped his hand around the large metal handle and pulled the door open, stepping aside so I could go in ahead of him.
I took two steps and then froze, surprised by what I saw. I’d forgotten another type of building that didn’t have windows, the kind of building that held objects that could be damaged by the light—a library.
The Base was the largest private library I’d ever been in. Bookcases wrapped around the walls of the massive room. On top of that, a wooden spiral staircase led to a second level housing more shelves. So many books. I felt dizzy from the sight. I’d been ecstatic with the collection Edward had given me the previous Christmas, but that gift was miniscule compared to what lay before me. My fingers itched to circle the perimeter, to drag their tips along the spines, to pick up each precious volume and hug it to my chest. I could live in a room like this without complaints. I could die here, and I’d be happy.
“I didn’t realize it was so easy to make you orgasm,” Edward said at my ear. “I’ve been doing it wrong.”
I laughed, the sound more boisterous than intended as my wound-up nerves released into it. “I do like my books. But believe me, you haven’t been doing anything wrong.”
“I’m relieved.” His tone, though, suggested he’d never been too concerned in the first place. “Let’s go get a drink, shall we?”
I blinked, taking in the other aspects of the room I’d originally overlooked, too blinded by the array of books. The room wasn’t quite a library, but more like a den. Couches and recliners were set up in various tableaus. There were also conference tables and more than one area set up with computers. And there was a full bar tucked neatly next to one of the fireplaces.
“Smoke and alcohol around books? Disgusting.” It was the same with most private libraries I’d been in, but it didn’t make me any less appalled.
“Francesco hasn’t even brought out the cigars yet,” Edward said, leading me toward the bar with his hand at the center of my back.
It was then that I truly noticed the people surrounding us. Twenty or so of them divided in groups throughout the space, mostly men in tuxes. The few women in attendance appeared to be accessories. Toys, rather, considering the lady giving a blow job underneath a table while her partner sipped his amber-colored beverage and spoke nonchalantly with his peers.
While Edward ordered our drinks, I scanned the room again, noticing more sexual play that I’d missed at first look. A woman in a white bikini—another of Esteban’s angels, likely—knelt at the feet of one of the men in an armchair. Across the room, the man dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb was fingering the woman on his lap, even though he was engaged in an intense discussion with the balding gentleman sitting across from him.
“He’s a sheikh,” Edward said as he handed me the tumbler. “Believe it or not. The man next to him is in oil. The man he’s arguing with is an arms dealer.”
I took a sip of the brandy, suddenly understanding why there’d been a security check. “Legal arms dealer?” I asked optimistically.
“Very little of what happens here is legal, bird.”
My insides felt cold. “What is this place?”
Edward brought his tumbler to his lips, taking a swallow before answering. “It’s a negotiation room. I told you before that Esteban touts the island as a place for men with few ethics to do business. This is where that business occurs, in this room. It’s neutral territory. Many powerful enemies meet here to discuss nefarious deals.”
“And this is the part of the island that meets your needs.” I couldn’t decide if it was thrilling or despicable to realize that. “What am I doing here, Edward?”
“You like the books, don’t you?” It was less of an answer and more of a distraction, and I wasn’t dumb enough to think anything else. “Why don’t you finish your drink while you look around? Esteban will have small plates brought out soon, if you’re hungry.”
I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing?”
“Conversing with old friends. Catching up. Nothing you should worry about.”
I could feel the corners of my mouth turning down, but I was determined not to pout. I’d already known Edward was a devil. My father had even warned me that he was a man with questionable ethics. This sort of scene was part of that. Part of him. I should be grateful not to know the details, keep my head down, and my mouth shut.
It wasn’t in my nature, but it was our anniversary. Behaving could be the gift I gave him. Absentmindedly, I rubbed the bird charm between my fingers. “Fine. I’ll be perusing. But don’t you dare think I’ll be summoned with a clap of your hands.”
He smiled. “Never.”
I spent the next three hours combing through the stacks, breaking once when the food was brought out to cushion my stomach before refilling my brandy. Despite the pleasure the sight of all the books gave me, there were fewer treasures than I would have hoped for. Most everything was nonfiction, many were books on law and tax codes on various countries in various languages. There was also a large section devoted to business strategy as well as war strategy, and another larger section on the history of almost every nation.
Upstairs, though, I found some items worth savoring. First editions of a few of my favorite classics as well as a very impressive wall of rare books. I took my mask off for these, carefully inspecting fragile bindings, noting the strange typesets and languages inside. It was enough to keep me preoccupied, and I only found myself looking for Edward once or twice. I felt his eyes on me, however, constantly.
Eventually, when my eyes started to grow weary and raw—apparently Francesco had brought out the cigars by this time—I put my mask back on and went back down the stairs in search of my husband. Attendance had grown over the evening, doubling in size. A few more women had arrived, most wearing little or nothing at all. The hair at the nape of my neck stood up as the scene reminded me less of a party at The Open Door and more of the kinds hosted by my uncle.
I was ready to leave.
Hopefully, Edward was as well.
He was easy to find, tucked comfortably into the corner of one of the sofas, a cigar in one hand, a tumbler in the other, his expression carefully guarded. When he caught sight of me, he set down his cigar in a nearby ashtray and stood to meet me.
“Hello, my dragon,” he
said after thoroughly kissing me. The endearment and the taste of him suggested he might have had more than a couple brandies while I’d been away. Especially when his hand wandered inside my dress to roughly fondle my breast.
“Edward,” I admonished with a blush, my eyes darting to the crowd.
“Yes, yes, you’re right. I must make introductions.” Apparently he hadn’t correctly interpreted my reprimand, but he moved away to set down his drink and now his hands were off me, and I missed his touch more than I wanted to admit.
I needn’t have worried. A moment later, his arm was around me again, settling at my waist as he turned to face the group closest to us.
“Gentlemen—and ladies, but mostly gentlemen,” he said, his voice loud enough to reach those seated farther away as well. He paused to chuckle with those who laughed. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Celia. She’s new to Exceso, and it’s our anniversary. I promised her a good time.”
Eyebrows rose and glances exchanged. Some hoots and hollers filled the air. Whispers could be heard but not made out. The weight of several leering gazes hit me at once.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like to be watched. There were situations where I found the notion quite appealing. Watching Edward with Sasha at The Open Door had been arousing, and I could only imagine how much more arousing I would have found it if I’d been the one being played with.
But this audience was not that audience. These men were not good men. These men were the kind that had my skin crawling and my stomach churning.
I coiled into my husband. “Edward, can we go?” I asked quietly.
“Not yet, bird. Patience.” His hand made its way back to my breast, this time pulling on my nipple until it was fully erect.
It was impossible not to react to his touch, uncomfortable as I was with the surroundings. He knew how to manipulate my body, how to make me erupt in birdsong.
“She’s remarkable, Edward,” said a man nearby.
“Flawless,” said another.
“Obscenely beautiful,” said a third.
Ruin: Slay Two Page 27