by Mari Carr
Already chosen? Maybe Darling, like Juliette, had been promised to a trinity from a young age. Christian’s previous arousal had dimmed. In its place settled this heavy feeling. It wasn’t uncommon for him to try on someone else’s skin, to walk a mile in their shoes, in order to become a better actor. The exercise had come from one of his drama coaches, and it was one that had taken root deeply in his subconscious. One he struggled to turn off right now.
He tried to imagine a sixteen-year-old girl being told by a man, who for all intents and purposes was a father figure to her, that not only would she have no say-so in who she married, but she was going to have to submit to the man as well. It felt like something out of the dark ages.
“How did she respond?” Vincent asked, forgetting himself.
The man was too into the story to care that it was obvious Vincent wasn’t going to be able to verify it.
“She was a teenage girl. She tried to leave. He stopped her.”
“How?” Christian was glad for Vincent’s deeper voice, because it overshadowed and hid the fact that Christian had just whispered the same question.
“He paddled her. And before you ask, I questioned my sub, who assured me nothing that man did to Darling was safe, sane or consensual. He basically beat the fuck out of her.”
“And after that?” Vincent prodded.
“He made her sleep at the foot of the bed in the spare room, tied up, gagged. I gather she tried to escape the next day, but Caden’s mother caught her, stopped her from going to the police.”
“Fuck.” Vincent ran his hand over his face.
“That’s how I felt when my sub told me the story.”
“I guess it’s too much to hope that the mother helped her.”
“Far too much. She scolded the father, but not for what he’d done. Instead, she was pissed off at him for how he’d done it. Not sure what the mother said to her, but Darling said it was clear she had no choice but to go along with it. At that point, she walked back to the spare room willingly and the father took over her training.”
“For how long?”
The masked man shrugged. “About a year or so. Not sure exactly.”
“Did Caden and his brother know about this?”
“No.”
Christian was certain that part was true. He could only imagine how embarrassed, how ashamed Darling must have felt by everything happening to her. Even if they had been very close friends, he couldn’t picture her admitting to the abuse she was suffering. Caden’s father was training her—no. He was raping her. Night after night. He tried to imagine Juliette in that situation. Would she have said something to Sebastian? To him?
“But they found out when she was seventeen.”
“How?” Vincent asked.
The masked man ran a weary hand over his mouth and hesitated. It was clear he was loath to continue the tale now that Vincent had proven he couldn’t provide any insight to the legitimacy.
“How did Caden and Weston find out?”
The man perked up. “The brother’s name was Weston?”
Vincent nodded and Christian resisted the urge to cheer. Dropping that fact was enough to prove that he might have something of value to add after all.
“This is the part of Darling’s story that drove my sub away from the lifestyle.”
Christian couldn’t believe there was anything worse than what they’d already heard.
“Darling was in the kitchen with the brother, Weston,” he added, now that he had the name. “The father walked in and signaled for her to kneel. Apparently, the look on Weston’s face was enough to prove to her that he knew what was going on. She knelt, as they’d trained her to do. But now it was in front of her friend, her contemporary.”
Christian couldn’t begin to imagine the anguish, the humiliation Darling must have felt.
The man continued the story, and, given the distant expression in his eyes, it was almost as if he was watching the horrific event unfold. “The father said her name, with a crack of command and displeasure. You’re a Dom, Master Clayton. You know the one.”
“He wanted more,” Vincent whispered.
The masked man nodded. “She started to cry, but even so, she took off her clothes.”
Christian prayed Weston stood up for her, that he beat the fuck out of his father. That he offered her some comfort, some sense of safety.
That hope was dashed in an instant.
“Apparently, Weston stormed out of the room and the father followed him. Darling remained on the floor, naked and kneeling. When the father returned, he told her she was going to be caned for failing to behave.”
Christian’s blood turned cold as he wrapped Charlotte, who was now trembling, tighter in his embrace.
“Have you ever caned them?” the man asked, gesturing toward Christian and Charlotte.
Charlotte whimpered.
Vincent shook his head. “No.”
“I don’t have to tell you how truly vicious caning is. He bent her over the counter and that was when she saw Weston, standing at the doorway. Darling revealed to my sub that she was in love with Weston, that they’d fancied themselves childhood sweethearts.”
Once again, Christian hoped for a happy ending, even as he knew there wouldn’t be one.
“The father tied her hands behind her back, looped the rope around her throat and tied it to a cabinet handle on the other side of the island. If she tried to stand, she’d choke herself. That was when the caning began. The first lash opened the skin on the back of her thighs. She admitted to bleeding from her mouth because she bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to stay quiet. I guess part of her training was that she had to take her punishment silently.”
“I hope to God that fucking father is dead.” Vincent’s tone was pure murder and while his sentiment mirrored Christian’s, it still terrified him. God help the man who ever crossed Vincent Clayton.
“I have no idea if he is or not. All I know is the caning broke her, just as it’s designed to do. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she begged, apologized, cried.”
“And Weston watched it all?” It was clear that part was the most disturbing to Vincent.
“He stepped in once she fell apart, told his father he was the one who’d been offended by Darling’s behavior, which meant it was his right to punish her.”
Charlotte cried out, the gag garbling what was meant to be a word.
Vincent crossed the room, dragging her upright and pulling her into his arms. Christian leapt to his feet and unbuckled the gag, throwing it on the floor. If the masked man disapproved of Vincent’s behavior, he made no comment. Part of Christian thought he respected Vincent for his protective actions.
“The father untied her. If Darling thought Weston’s actions were a ruse, a way to rescue her, she was taught exactly how cruel men can be. He took her into another room, put her over his knee, and spanked her bloody ass and thighs. He spanked her until she stopped crying.”
Christian swallowed heavily, resisting the urge to be sick.
“Where was Caden in all of this?” Vincent growled.
“He entered the picture later, when Weston was back at college. The father repeated the introduction. Made Darling greet him on her knees. Caden’s response was different, which is the only part of the story that has me questioning this man’s right to play in our club. That, and another reason I’ll share in a minute. Darling said that Caden went into a rage and threatened to take her away, until the father told him that Weston had mastered her as well.”
“Why would that matter?”
“I have no idea. All I know is they didn’t run. I’m not so naïve as to blame the victims, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s what they were—both of them. But what comes next is the worst part. Caden’s parents had trained them all, which means his response was based on that. He collared Darling, claimed her as his own submissive. Made her kneel before his father as he put a collar around her neck. Declared she was his slave and his pr
operty and that his father couldn’t touch her without Caden’s permission.”
“And you don’t think he did that to save her?”
The man lifted one shoulder. “Whether he did or not, Darling told my sub she hated Caden for it.”
“They were only, what, seventeen, eighteen at the time?”
The man nodded.
“Do you think she still hates him?” Vincent asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the other reason I’m struggling with the decision to ban him from this club. You said you’ve seen them together?”
Vincent nodded and Christian hoped the man didn’t ask for any details. Otherwise, they were going to be forced to do some very fancy footwork.
The masked Dom sighed and returned the whip to the wall. “I’ve only seen them together once at Las Palmas Obscuras. They’re poetry together, a dark, dangerous poetry—both with dark hair, gorgeous. He loves her. Her…I’m not sure about her, but she is the most elegant and intuitive submissive I’ve ever seen. Seeing her makes you want to both worship and abuse her.”
Vincent let out a slow breath, as Christian tried to take in everything they’d just heard. Caden and his family were part of the Trinity Masters—as was Darling, he was now sure. That fact rubbed against the grain, even though it made some sense of the story. Darling’s arranged marriage and the other people in the parents’ relationship may seem confusing to the masked man, but they were definitely a part of their society, the world they lived in.
Christian looked over to see that Charlotte’s eyes were wet with tears. Vincent looked grim.
“The woman,” Vincent said, not bothering to pretend he knew anything more. “Her name is Darling?”
The masked man shook his head. “No, Caden calls her Darling, but my sub told me her name is Rose.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte stood outside the Boston Public Library, grateful to be back home. After their conversation with the masked Dom in New York, the three of them had left the club in a hurry. And while they’d all slept in the same bed last night, they didn’t have sex. They were all too unsettled, too lost in their own thoughts as they considered what they’d been told.
The Grand Master had asked them to discover as much as they could about Caden Anderson. She prayed what they’d learned was enough. Because Charlotte’s heart couldn’t take any more.
She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around Darling’s—Rose’s—life. Having grown up in a happy house with loving parents who’d doted on her, it was hard for Charlotte to imagine enduring all that Rose had at such a young age.
They had planned to remain in New York a couple of days, but Charlotte had received a text from someone in the Trinity Masters named Franco, who wanted to meet to give her the blueprints to the tunnels. Vincent, in typical fashion, had insisted they return to Boston to tackle the next task, so he’d called for his jet and now here they were. Back in Boston again.
She was flattered by Vincent and Christian’s intense desire to start their lives with her. Part of her had always worried that perhaps she wouldn’t fit in with her assigned trinity. Charlotte suspected that was a common concern for members until the binding ceremony, so she was pleased not only with her two incredibly hot partners, but that they seemed equally fond of her.
“Charlotte Mead?”
Charlotte looked over as the gray-eyed Hispanic man walked up to her. “I thought that was you. I’m Francisco Garcia Santiago. You should probably just call me Franco.”
Charlotte shook the hand he proffered. “Nice to meet you. May I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Are you aware you’re wearing two different shoes?”
Franco shrugged. “I’m not even going to look. Be happy I shook the spider out of my hair.”
“Spider?”
“He and I were pals. We hung out for a while, talked.” Franco gestured to the entrance of the library. They climbed the marble steps, passing by the lion statues that stood guard. “It was a beautiful friendship.”
“The spider…talked back?”
They’d just reached the top when another man called out to them. “Franco! You gorgeous man. I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”
Franco grinned. “Better not let Barry hear you talking about how hot I am. You know he gets jealous.”
The man rolled his eyes. “He takes me for granted. Doesn’t hurt to keep him on his toes. And who is this little cutie patootie?”
Franco introduced them. “Charlotte Mead, this is Lee Hager. Lee is the Director of Operations here at the library.” Franco lowered his voice. “He’s also a member of the TM.”
Charlotte was amused by Franco’s code, though she understood the need for cloak and dagger. It was mid-afternoon and the library was crawling with tourists.
Franco continued. “Lee’s partner, Barry Bradley, is the city manager.”
“Oh, I’ve worked with Barry before. He’s a very nice man. I didn’t realize he was …you know.” Charlotte dropped her voice. “And who is your third?”
“Genevieve Bailey. She owns and operates her own nonprofit consulting firm. You like seeing how the pieces fit too, don’t you? I admit I’m a sucker for that game. Go to all the galas and meetings, studying the trinities, trying to figure out why they were put together. Of course, I’m privy to more of the society’s meetings, given my position here at the library.”
Charlotte liked Lee instantly. “I’m sure you must be.”
“Charlotte is an architect with Needham Jacobs.”
Lee’s eyes lit up. “Is that right? Well then, you and I have similar interests.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Interior design has always been a pet project of mine. Part of my duties as Director of Operations involves…how should I say this? Keeping certain entrances to a very secret part of the library secure.”
“Really? I’ve always wondered how such a monstrous and beautiful place such as the headquarters has remained hidden.”
“I’m a master magician, very skilled with sleight of the hand.” He lifted both hands. “While this hand,” he snapped his fingers on his right hand, “has your attention, this hand is doing the real work.”
Charlotte gasped when she discovered the cell phone she’d tucked in her jacket pocket in Lee’s hand.
Franco had clearly seen Lee’s tricks before. “Or this building is so old with so many renovations that no one can find anything.”
Lee waved away Franco’s dismissal. “I’m able to draw attention away from places that might reveal us through construction.”
“Of course.” Charlotte was no stranger to the Boston Public Library, and not just because of her membership in the Trinity Masters. Even before joining, she was a local girl. Her mother brought her here as a child for story time, and when she was in college, she had lived in the very dreary arts wing where all the architectural books were located. She realized what Lee said was true. “I get it now. You drape those big sheets of plastic from the ceiling, stick up a sign that says Under Construction and drive everyone away.”
“I like to think of this place as my own personal Hogwarts. Only here it’s not magic moving the staircases, it’s me.”
Franco started wandering away, muttering about stairways, but not as if he was cursing. As if the word stairways made him remember something important.
Lee motioned to Franco. “You’d best follow him. He does that. Just wanders away. And you, my sweet Charlotte, must come back when you have time. We’ll take high tea in the Map Room one day.”
“I’d love that.” Charlotte and her mother were big fans of the library’s high tea, meeting for lunch there at least a few times a year. She caught up with Franco. “What a lovely man.”
“There had to be stairs…but that’s your job to figure out. Who are we talking about? Oh, right. Lee’s great, isn’t he? His trinity was formed close to twenty years ago and as soon as the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage, he and Barry w
ere at the courthouse. Genevieve stood next to them as a witness. As far as I’m concerned, putting the three of them together was a stroke of genius on the part of the Grand Master. You can’t begin to imagine how much the three of them manage to accomplish in terms of improving not only the library, but countless other historical places in the city. Boston is a better place thanks to their efforts. I wish I’d had that kind of support for my family’s place in Florida.”
“So the three of them don’t live together in a trinity?”
Franco shook his head. “No. Genevieve has her own apartment.”
Charlotte hadn’t thought much about the day-to-day logistics of a trinity. “Is that what you do in your trinity? Two together, one apart?” There was a ring on his finger, so clearly he was already in a triad.
“Mine? No, my partners couldn’t live without me. They would either murder each other or never do anything but have long, emotionally fraught conversations. Probably in the middle of the night. Somewhere with suitably dramatic lighting. Because they’re both cracked in the head.”
Charlotte laughed. “Doesn’t sound like much fun. Playing mediator.”
“It’s okay, my spider buddy understands me. How is your new relationship going? Settling in okay?”
Charlotte couldn’t hold back her grin if she tried. “It’s amazing.”
Franco tilted his head. “Wow. Not sure I’ve ever seen anyone look as happy as you right out of the gate. Usually there’s some sort of awkward adjustment period.”
“Maybe I got lucky.” Very, very lucky.
Franco glanced in Bates Hall. “Damn. It’s the weekend. Every university student within a fifty-mile radius is in there. Let’s try the next floor. There’s always room in the Wiggin Gallery.”
They climbed another set of steps and claimed a table in the much less inviting room.
Franco unfurled a large white sheet of paper. It was a color photocopy of an architectural schematic. The paper had darkened to yellow, the ink faded to brown. It was so intricate and detailed that at first it looked like a piece of abstract art, all lines and curves, or maybe an elaborate treasure map. Part of her was surprised he’d whip out something the Trinity Masters considered so important in public, but then she realized no one walking by would have a clue what was depicted.