Tested by Her Web Master (Web Master #2)

by Normandie Alleman

  I nodded.

  “And I told you that one of them became too attached to me, and our relationship had to end for that reason. Well, the sub I was referring to was Kaitlyn.”

  As he spoke I took a step closer to the girl, who I realized now was unconscious. It was difficult to tell with all those tubes coming out of her, but her features were delicate. I suspected that before whatever tragic event that put her here had occurred, she must have been a pretty young woman with her blonde hair and pink lips.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked, feeling a pang of sadness for Kaitlyn and her family.

  Quentin sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling. “Her mother believes she will come out of this, but she’s been this way for going on a year now. The doctors…well, they are not as optimistic.”

  “A year?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s awful. I feel terrible for her. For her family. But why bring me here, Quentin? This is weird.”

  “Because I wanted you to see what I was capable of.”

  It felt like the floor fell right out from under me, and I grabbed for something to steady myself against. Clutching the railing of Kaitlyn’s hospital bed, I croaked, “What do you mean?”

  He picked up Kaitlynn’s hand, the one that was devoid of IVs, and held it to his chest. Staring intently at the lifeless woman he said, “She did this because of me.”

  “Because of you? I don’t understand. What did she do?”

  “Tried to kill herself. Only she didn’t quite succeed.”

  “No, Quentin. This isn’t your fault. It can’t be.” And I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, him or me.

  “Oh, I’m quite sure. Believe me I wish it weren’t true.” He lowered Kaitlyn’s hand back onto the bed and walked over to the window, staring out at the gray day.

  “But how do you know?”

  “She left a note. Her mother contacted me. I don’t think her mother blames me, though I’m not sure why not. A saint, that woman. She encourages me to visit, so I do.” He sniffed. “It’s the least I can do after making her daughter take her life.”

  “How can you say that, Quentin? Everyone has free will. You cannot blame yourself because of another person’s actions.”

  He shook his head. “No. I knew she was having trouble. I knew she wasn’t adjusting after I cut off our sessions. I tried several things. Tried weaning her off them, tried finding her another Dom, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She was obsessed with me, with being my sub. Everything started downhill fast between the two of us so I cut off all communication with her.”

  “That must have been difficult.”

  “It was. She became almost like a stalker, showing up at my gym, constantly texting me. I finally had to block her number. I stayed home for weeks until I started to feel like a prisoner in my own home. But a week later I got the call from her mother.”

  “It doesn’t sound like she was stable,” I soothed, wondering what I was doing trying to comfort him. I was angry with him. If this was some sort of manipulation to make me feel sorry for him and forget that he’d lied to me in the worst way, I couldn’t let him get away with it. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened to Kaitlyn, but what does this have to do with me?”

  He was still staring out the window, but now he turned to look at me. “Don’t you see, Sophie? I’m cursed. The people who care about me wind up dead. Or,” he gestured at Kaitlyn, “like this, where they might be better off dead.”

  I frowned, wishing he hadn’t said that in front of her. Even though the girl was comatose, she might be able to hear him.

  “That’s just superstitious,” I hedged.

  “No, Sophie. That’s my life!”

  I tried to process what he was saying. He believed that he was cursed. One look at the agony on his face told me he truly believed it. For him, this wasn’t just an excuse. In his mind, at least, it was real. He’d lost his son, and now this girl had tried to kill herself after he rejected her. So, was that what he was trying to do—prepare me for his imminent rejection?

  “So, you were going to break up with me then? And you wanted me to have another guy at the ready? No matter that he wasn’t real. That’s a really great plan, Quentin,” I said with biting sarcasm.

  “No, it wasn’t like that. When this happened with Kaitlyn I got scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of getting close to someone else. People who get too close—I only cause them pain. So I wanted to put some distance between us. Admittedly, I didn’t think through how it would play out. Originally, I planned to break things off with you once you’d established a D/s relationship with BA, but then I couldn’t do it. I’d fallen too in love with you.”

  “God, you are so fucked up. You know that?”

  What he’d done to me was horrible. Unforgivable. But he’d done it because of the screwed up way he thought after losing people who loved him. Those had been horrible and unfortunate events, but surely he was simply unlucky, and not cursed. That wasn’t a real thing, was it? All of a sudden, I felt dizzy.

  Gazing down at Kaitlyn I pictured her submitting to Quentin, her kneeling thoughtfully before him. Him, ready to punish her for some contrived wrongdoing, and I felt sick at my stomach. Her devotion had landed her in this bed, probably never to get out of it. I turned to face him. “What did the note say—the one she left?”

  He winced, but answered me.

  It said, “Tell Quentin I will always belong to him, and it had my phone number.”

  It took a minute for his words to sink in. Then a cold sweat overtook me, and my knees began to buckle. In a flash the parquet floor rushed up to greet my face, and I heard a loud crack before everything turned black.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  When I woke up, a nurse in bright-yellow scrubs was leaning over me. “There you are, back with us. Gave us quite a scare, young lady.” She had a halo of brown curls that reminded me of Little Orphan Annie’s in the old cartoons.

  “Hmm?” I stretched my neck, looking around the room.

  I was in the hospital.

  Then it all started coming back to me—Quentin’s deception, the lovely, lifeless Kaitlyn.

  “What happened?” I asked, feeling stupid but not having the energy to pretend to be otherwise.

  “Well, you passed out. Collapsed right on the floor in one of the patient’s rooms.” She took my hand in hers and at first I thought she was comforting me, but then she slid a blood pressure cuff around my upper arm.

  “I did?” The cuff began to compress my arm.

  “Sure did. Hit your chin on the ground too when you fell. But you were smart. If you’re gonna faint, what better place to do it than in a hospital? You’re in the Emergency Room now.”

  The blood pressure machine started beeping and she frowned then spit out some numbers that were meaningless to me, but I could tell by her tone they weren’t great.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just that your blood pressure is a bit low. Probably why you fainted. Are you feeling any better?”

  “A little.”

  “I’m going to get you some juice. That will help if your blood sugar is low.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  “My name is Jean. I’ll be back in a few, then the doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

  When she left, I studied the room. It appeared to be an exam room of some kind. Where was Quentin?

  A few minutes later a doctor came in. He looked younger than me, and he had black hair with facial hair that was so scruffy that it made it difficult to tell if he was trying to grow a beard or if he was so busy taking care of patients that he hadn’t had time to shave.

  He examined my chin, saying, “It’s usually kids we see in here who need stitches.”

  “Stitches?”

  “Yep. You cut yourself open pretty good when you fell, but then, that’s a long way to fall. Any reason you can think of why you might have collapsed like that?”
<
br />   I shrugged. “Not really. All of a sudden I felt really hot and everything went dark. I guess that was when I fainted.”

  “Okay. Well, it’s probably not anything to worry about. We’ll get some bloodwork just to be sure, and I’m going to stitch up your chin. First, I’m going to give you a little something to deaden the area. You’ll feel a prick then a sting.”

  While he was sewing me up, Jean came back in with some orange juice, which I drank before she drew my blood.

  “Would you like me to send in that handsome young man that was with you?” she asked. “He seems awfully worried about you.”

  “Yes. Please.” I nodded vehemently. I yearned to see Quentin. Even with all the chaos surrounding us, I wanted him by my side. It made me feel weak to admit that I wanted him, but it was temporary, and for now I wanted him close by.

  The nurse ducked outside the curtains and a moment later Quentin swooped through them.

  “Hi.” He wore a sheepish grin like he expected me to forget everything else and just move ahead like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Unfortunately, everything about him today had been odd. First, he admitted to deceiving me in a way that made me feel incredibly violated, and second, he brought me to meet a comatose girl who tried to kill herself because of his rejection. How could he possibly act like all this was normal?

  “Hi.”

  “You had me quite alarmed back there, collapsing and busting your chin open like that.” He stood next to the bed and lifted my hand to his lips then kissed my palm gently.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “I doubt that. Have the doctors said anything yet?”

  “No. Quentin, this whole visit to see Kaitlyn, I don’t get it. I don’t know what you want from me.”

  He chuckled softly. “Of course you do. I want everything.”

  His dark-brown eyes bored into my soul. A soul that loved him fiercely, but my heart couldn’t reconcile that with my brain. My brain told me to run.

  “After everything that’s happened,” I shook my head. “I don’t think I can give you that anymore.”

  He let my hand go and straightened. “I understand. I just needed to bring you here to see what I’m responsible for, what happens to those who care about me. And you’re right. You are probably making the best decision. It may not be best for me, but it’s what’s best for you.”

  So, he was letting me go…

  Fresh tears sprung up in my eyes. Part of me wanted him to beg me not to go, wanted him to hold me in his arms forever. But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen.

  I closed my eyes and we sat there silently for a long time.

  Finally, the nurse came back in. “I’m sorry, Mr. Andrews, I need to ask you to please step outside.”

  “Of course.” Quentin turned to me and asked, “Can I get you anything?”

  “Maybe some of those tiny ice cubes like I had with my juice.” I handed him my empty cup. “Thanks,” I said as he left the room.

  “I wasn’t sure if he was your significant other…”

  “It’s complicated,” I said with a sigh.

  “Isn’t it always?” she asked rhetorically. “Anyway, your test results are back.”

  “So soon?”

  “Yes, it’s a slow day down there in the lab. Now I don’t know if this will be a surprise to you or not, but honey you’re pregnant.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “I’m what?” Surely there was some mistake. I’d been off birth control for years with my first husband and I never got pregnant. I’d assumed I couldn’t get pregnant.

  “Now, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just giving you the results.”

  “Oh no, it’s not that. I just didn’t know it was possible.”

  “You do know how these things work, right?”

  I nodded, ignoring her sarcasm. “It’s just that…. Oh, never mind.”

  “So, the doctor thinks that’s why you fainted. Your body is changing now, getting ready for two. He wants you to take it easy for a few days. Get lots of rest, drink lots of fluids. You’ll want to follow up with your OBGYN. We can make you an appointment if you like.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “All right, hon, let me get your discharge paperwork together. Congratulations.” She patted me on the arm and left me all alone in the room.

  Pregnant.

  With Quentin’s baby.

  Quentin, who had a child once before who was brutally taken from him.

  Quentin, who I loved with all my heart, but who I would never again be able to trust.

  Tentatively, I pressed my hand to my abdomen. I was really going to have a baby? There had been a time in my life when I’d wanted a child, but I’d given up on that dream long ago.

  Before I had a chance to think about it much further, the door opened and Quentin walked through it. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. They think it was just stress.” As I uttered the lie I felt a certain satisfaction in my words. Oh, he was responsible for my condition all right, but I’d rather he believe he’d caused me distress with his deceptive ways.

  No, I’d have to sort out what to do about the real truth I was hiding. But there was no way I was telling him now.

  The nurse brought in my paperwork, and I was free to go. I wished I could just sleep in the hospital. I was way too tired for a long bunch of flights, but I was too stubborn to go back to Quentin’s house with him. I was supposed to go back the next day anyway. I might as well make my escape now. After all, I had a lot to process after the past twenty-four hours.

  The drive from the hospital to the airport took a half hour, but when we got close, Quentin pulled into the parking lot of a hotel near the airport. Sick of him not following my simple directions, I snapped, “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be taking me to the airport.”

  “I’ve checked the schedule. There are no other flights tonight that will get you back to Ft. Worth any quicker than the ones you can take tomorrow. Unless you want to change planes three times and wind up there at four in the morning. I’ve booked you a room here. You can take the hotel’s shuttle over to the airport in the morning. They have room service. You’ll be perfectly comfortable, and you can be rid of me.”

  That last part cut like a knife. It was what I wanted, but it hurt like hell.

  “Unless you’d like me to stay.”

  I froze. I shook my head. I needed to think. Away from his dominating manner, his sexy body, and his powerful influence.

  “Because I am worried about you, you know. You did just faint. Are you sure the doctors don’t know what’s wrong?”

  “It’s just stress. So rest is probably what I need.”

  “You’re welcome to come home with me tonight. I’ll take care of you, and I can bring you to the airport tomorrow.”

  If I didn’t make it crystal clear to him that I needed him to go, it would only be harder to leave, so I flipped a switch and turned my anger loose on him. “Do you even know the crap you put me through, how hard it was for me to come to terms with the idea of you ‘sharing’ me? And then it was all bullshit. You have a lot of nerve acting like my savior, like you can take care of me. You’re too busy hurting me, humiliating me, deceiving me. What I need is for you to get out of my life.”

  “I deserve that,” he said with an infuriating calmness.

  I opened the door to the car and got out. Leaning back in, I said, “Let me tell you something Quentin Andrews—you are not God. You cannot control people’s lives like that. You are not cursed. You are just a man who has had bad things happen to him, who sometimes makes really bad decisions. Really bad decisions.”

  Without a word he got out of the car, popped open the trunk and before he could help me with it, I pulled my suitcase out of the back. Tears blinded my eyes and I refused to look back, but as I walked away I heard him say, “I’m sorry. Sophie. So sorry.”

  That night I slept the sleep of the dead, and I di
dn’t want to get up with my alarm or my wake-up call from the front desk.

  I showered, dressed hurriedly, and made it to the airport shuttle with barely a minute to spare. Even though I was only at the airport it felt strange to be in Seattle without Quentin. I missed him, and my body ached to have his arms around me. I felt like I had a low-grade fever, but I chalked that up to the early pregnancy rather than being heartsick.

  Boarding my flight, I was racked with nerves. Would this be the last time I’d ever be in Seattle? Grief over my relationship with Quentin began to settle over me, and once I was seated I closed my eyes.

  My mind kept going back over conversations and sessions I’d had with BA, processing what it meant that those interactions were really with Quentin. It was disturbing, but somewhat eye opening. BA had encouraged me to be patient with Quentin, which now was clearly self-serving, but it also told me that Quentin knew about my concerns and doubts and rather than run from me, his approach was to hang in there and try to move things forward between us.

  Oh well. It didn’t matter now.

  It was time for me to forget about Quentin and focus on my baby.

  There was only one problem—it was his baby too.

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