Invincible (Elite Doms of Washington Book 6)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  “No, you can’t, but I can.” Alexander’s voice rasped low in his ear. The man grasped his wrists, pushed him forward and slapped his hands onto the wall. A zipper sounded. Alexander kicked open Eric’s legs, yanked his hips backward so he was bent over more, and rammed his cock deep into Eric’s ass. Eric let out a sharp gasp at the invasion, his whole body lighting up with pain and a fuck-hells-yes pleasure. His awareness slammed back into the room with a vengeance.

  Alexander’s hand grasped his hair, the other firmly holding his hips in place. He then fucked him hard until Eric’s cock swelled with new arousal. Eric’s hard-on bobbed in the air as Alexander pistoned his hips against his ass for a while. The man had some stamina, and Eric’s cock wept in desire … and frustration.

  He’d gotten what he wanted—Alexander. It should have been enough. It should have been.

  43

  Alexander gripped the phone in his hand as he stared out over his gardens, dark and shadowy under the December night sky. “How’s the glamping campground? Making the Millennials happy?”

  Rebecca’s forced laugh crackled in his ear. “Rustic. I’ll need to stay a few more days.”

  Of course she did. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, the executive director isn’t here, and I really need to talk to him.”

  “I see.” He strained to hear her voice over the loud whoosh of wind blowing across her phone speaker. “How are the stars in West Virginia?”

  “Beautiful. I’m looking up at them right now.”

  Sure she was—from Baltimore where he knew her to be. “Good.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Well, I should go.” Her voice was soft, tentative.

  “Have a good evening, Rebecca.”

  “You, too.”

  The line went dead. He had a meeting to go to anyway.

  44

  Alexander crossed his arms. “Marston. You can’t stay away from me, can you?”

  The man’s face reddened. “You always did have an ego.”

  “I should have guessed you bankrolled this witch hunt.”

  His face stretched into a grin, making Alexander’s hands crave a whip. He knew what to do with smirks. Marston stretched his back, leaned against the chair. “Actually you bankrolled it. With the house sale, I could afford a few luxuries, such as—” He waved his hand. “Paying you a visit with a legal team.” His eyes slanted as if in thought. “I especially like that irony.”

  Headler was funded with the fucking money that he’d paid for the Wynter estate? Alexander had to admit, it was ironic, and well played. “I don’t really care.”

  “Sure, you don’t.” Michael Headler inched around Marston and sat in a chair at the Tribunal Council table—a chair usually occupied by his nephew, Ryan. Alexander silenced Ryan’s rising protest with a lifted eyebrow. They had bigger things to deal with. Ryan chuffed and sat on Alexander’s other side.

  Alexander glared at Michael Headler, his smug face grinning from ear to ear, as Headler introduced his legal team. Two attorneys from Anson and Anson Partners had flown in from Manhattan, as if that detail, delivered by Headler, was meant to scare Alexander. If the man only knew …

  “You know my legal team.” Alexander turned to his lone attorney. “Carson Drake.” Carson’s eyes glinted like a cobra waiting to strike. However, ever the consummate professional, he merely nodded once in the direction of the other lawyers.

  Alexander set both his hands on the table. “Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?” That’s when the expensive suits from Manhattan went through their case. It seemed Alexander, the Tribunal, Club Accendos and likely even the flowers outside, owed Michael Headler formal apologies and restitution for mental distress and physical harm. The demands didn’t stop there. The list grew so long Alexander had to stifle a yawn at the end of it.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  One of the Anson suits blinked at him.

  Alexander cocked his head. “It’s imported. From Columbia. Care for some?”

  “No, thank you, now as I was saying … ”

  Carson raised his hand in the direction of Alexander’s assistant, Clarisse. “I’ll have some, Clarisse.” He smiled at Michael Headler. “I never could stay awake when listening to fiction. I’m a non-fiction kind of guy.”

  Headler snorted in derision. “You all can act—”

  One of the suits laid his manicured hand over Michael’s arm silencing the man. “Cutting right to it. Good. I appreciate someone who likes to get straight to the deal.”

  “Is that what you’d call that … ” Carson nodded in the direction of the file folders before the suits “ … a deal?”

  Suit One sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Just write him a check.”

  Headler’s nostrils flared as he glowered at his legal counsel. “A check? I want more than that. I want … ”

  The man’s words halted when Sarah stepped through the door. Her heels clicked across the stone floor. Michael’s eyes tracked her as she circled around the table, completed a full circle to stand behind him. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Hello, Michael.”

  He visibly swallowed and snarled at Alexander. “If you think trotting out Mistress Sarah is going to do anything, you’ll be sadly disappointed.”

  “Is that what you call her?”

  The man’s face hardened. “You know full well … ” he trailed off when Suit Two laid a hand on his arm.

  The suit leaned forward, folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I think we’ve established that this house—”

  “Home.”

  “Okay. Home. Is a place of deviant and immoral sexual activity participated in by high-level public figures with deep pockets. People who wouldn’t want anything to reach the press.”

  “Deviant.” Alexander tapped his finger over his lips. “Hmmm. Someone’s been holding out on me then.” He let his lips lift into a smile. He hadn’t lied. Everyone’s version of “deviant” was different, and to him, nothing that went on within these walls would fit that category. “Well, whatever you gentlemen want to imagine goes on here, it doesn’t matter.” Alexander lifted his eyes to Sarah who gave him a small smile.

  “I’m glad you came, Michael.”

  Surprise crossed the man’s eyes.

  “It gives us a chance to deliver the news in person. Sarah is taken, you see. She’s married.”

  Michael’s swiveled his head toward her.

  Good. Let him see how much he’ll miss forever. Alexander lowered his gaze to stare directly into Michael’s eyes. “Married, and, more … ”

  “Much more, actually.” She ran her fingers over Headler’s shoulders. “It’s a pity really.” She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “To never again feel what you know you can.”

  Marston blew a long breath. “Are we done with the theatrics and double entendres yet? Mr. Headler doesn’t need this place or you … Mistress Sarah.”

  “I rather like hearing that from you, Marston.”

  The man’s face burned bright.

  Sarah sighed dramatically. “So, Michael, I guess I should tell Seraphina that she can return to Caracas?”

  Michael’s head lurched up. “She’s here?”

  Bingo. The man still craved a Mistress—and one in particular who’d been working with him for over a year.

  “In the Library.” Sarah strode toward the door. “I’ll let her know.”

  Michael straightened his jacket. “Wait.”

  “Michael. Don’t let a little manipulation veer you off course.” Marston tapped the paperwork before him. “Stick to the plan.”

  “Speaking of manipulation.” Sarah paused in the doorway. “Coming, Michael?” She gazed at the two attorneys and whispered dramatically. “It was nothing but a lover’s quarrel.”

  Michael’s eyes darted from the attorneys to Sarah and then to Marston. He rose. “I need a minute.”

  “What?” Marston was up like a shot. The two attorneys leaned back in their chairs, e
xpelling long sighs as the scene unfolded in a way they hadn’t envisioned. Suit Two shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips.

  “Marston, are you okay? Do you need some water?” Alexander asked. The man did look as if his suit might burst at the seams.

  “Michael.” Marston made a ridiculous finger jabbing move in the guy’s direction. “You walk out that door, and you can forget it. This is our shot.”

  Michael glanced at the faces around the room. “I need … time.”

  This bogus lawsuit wasn’t over. Alexander wasn’t stupid, but he rather enjoyed watching Marston squirm.

  Suit One laid his phone on the table, face down. His face was white, and he stared at Alexander with something akin to fear.

  “Something the matter?” he asked the man.

  The man swallowed. “My father says hello, Mr. Rockingham. He just, ah, … ” he tapped his phone. “ … texted me.”

  “Oh? How is George? Give him my best.” He’d used his old friend’s firm, Anson and Anson, a few years ago.

  Suit Two’s face shot to his partner’s. Now the lawsuit was over.

  In fact, the conflict of interest was so great, he had half a mind to ask the two suits how they’d been hired in the first place. He thought better of it, not wishing to extend this ridiculous circus show.

  Alexander tapped the table. “Marston, Michael is going to be a while. Sure we can’t get you that coffee?”

  The Anson suits stood, rebuttoning their jackets. “We’ll pick this up later when we have a chance to regroup.”

  Marston glared at Alexander. “This isn’t over.”

  Alexander rose, straightened his jacket. “It never is, Marston. Desires ignored become obsessions.”

  He should know. He, too, was tired of his own obsessions, like besting the Wynters, fighting Marston at every turn. He was so fucking tired of it all.

  45

  Alexander blew through into the Library like a hurricane. He paused at the sight of him, and his face immediately hardened. Eric’s hand was on top of Lina’s head, stroking her hair. She knelt, nude, head downcast, holding a skein of rope in her hand.

  The man strode to him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Care to join us?”

  Alexander scowled, spun on his heel and exited.

  Eric made sure Lina was settled and then went to find him. This situation was getting ridiculous.

  It took a few minutes, but he found Alexander standing on the back terrace overlooking his gardens in nothing heavier than his suit. The early December wind lifted his hair, and Alexander had his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. His breath hung in the air before his face. He looked very much the portrait of a bull ready to charge.

  Eric stepped outside, the icy air arrowing through his whole body. He didn’t turn away, however. He’d fucked up with that Lina gesture. He couldn’t seem to stop making the wrong move with Alexander.

  He sidled up next to him. “Sorry about that. Was just trying to help.”

  Alexander didn’t register his presence, keeping his gaze outward.

  Eric swallowed, rubbed his hands over his arms … and waited, staring at the same garden as Alexander. A sheen of white frost coated the bushes and tree branches, some of them covered in burlap sacks with twine around them as if attempting to protect them from the inevitable winter. He probably should leave, and was about to when Alexander took a long breath of the frigid air.

  “I apologize. Seems you’re always catching me in the throes of emotion.”

  “No need to apologize. I wasn’t thinking.” He stuffed his hands under his armpits, a vain attempt to get warmer.

  “I have more than fifty Black Baccara red rose bushes in here. Rebecca’s favorites. Or so I thought they were. Now I’m not so sure.” Alexander inclined his head toward Eric but didn’t look at him.

  “Where is she now?” Alexander had told him he’d been keeping tabs on her, and she never seemed to be where she reported she was.

  “Baltimore. Harbor Inn now.” He hadn’t hesitated in answering.

  “Care to take a drive? Bring her back?”

  Alexander glanced at him. “She’s not coming back. I don’t force anyone to be where they don’t want to be. She willingly walked away from me this time.”

  “You’re not seriously going to—”

  He stopped short when Alexander rested his cold blue eyes on him. “Yes. I seriously am. For once, I’d like the person I love most in the world to choose me. She’ll have to return to me of her own free will. If not, then, it was a pipe dream. I should have known the past can never be revisited.”

  This was such bullshit. Rebecca needed affirmation she was important to Alexander. Of course, Alexander needed that, too. They were at an impasse. Was he the only one who could see this?

  Alexander stepped down the stone steps and headed into his frozen garden with his fifty rose bushes, alone.

  Eric didn’t follow him. Instead, he stood there, impotent and ruined forever for anyone else—and knowing exactly what he had to do next. There would be no luring Alexander to a basement dungeon. It had been a pipe dream, as Alexander had nailed so well, to think he could be with the man. Alexander’s heart had room for only two people, one was dead and the one alive didn’t know how good she had it.

  He’d lost them both. His time here was over. He’d get past it—someday. He wasn’t concerned with the tears that ran down his cheeks. Frigid air made your eyes water. Everyone knew that.

  46

  Eric spun his hand on the steering wheel, put the rental car into park and shut off the ignition. Rebecca sat on a picnic table, hunched over a book, her back to him. He stared at her for a few seconds. Beautiful as ever. Oblivious, too, by the way she didn’t stir.

  He had expected his text message to her would go unanswered. Over-the-top relief filled him when she had.

  He cracked open his door. She didn’t move when he lowered himself to the opposite bench. “Must be a good read.”

  She gasped and spun around. “Oh, God, Eric, you scared me.”

  He cocked his head toward the book. “War and Peace?”

  She smiled and lifted the huge paperback. “J.R. Ward’s latest. I like the fantasy.” She twisted her body so she sat across from him. “I’m so happy to see you.” She gave him one of her million-dollar smiles.

  Not so fast, princess. “I thought that’s what I was supposed to say.”

  “Thanks for coming. How’s Alexander?”

  He eyed her. “Oh, no. You don’t get to do that, Elf Queen.”

  Her chin pulled backward. “Excuse me?” She let out a half laugh.

  “That’s what I thought the first time I saw you. Elf queen from Rivendell. But you don’t get to pretend you’re some magical being when you’re breaking the heart of a man who’d give his life for you.”

  She pursed her lips together. “Wow. Starting things off with a bang.” She huffed and looked out over the park. “But you’re overstating things.”

  “Bullshit. And you know it.”

  She twisted the side of her mouth. “You’re in love with him.”

  “So are you. Which is why it’s so odd that—” he peered around. “—we are sitting on a dirty old picnic table in a park in Baltimore.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  She looked aghast and then moved to stand up.

  “You are a runner,” he said.

  She stilled. “Excuse me?”

  “You run when things get hard. It takes one to know one. ” He looked down at her duffel bag, a gold A etched into the black canvas. The irony of that one wasn’t lost on him. “You’re disappearing again, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes cleared, all flirtations and pretense gone. She took in a breath and blew it out quickly. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I was gone?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s a surprise. Alexander and I are too different now.”

  “That why
you only ran away forty miles? Of all the exotic places you could go in the world, you chose Baltimore?”

  Her lips thinned at his derisive snort. “You’re right. I can go anywhere.” She angrily slammed her book down on the wooden table and reached for the duffel bag.

  “You don’t deserve him.”

  She stilled. Tears flooded her eyes, like a rising river. “I know.”

  “Why? Because you tried to protect him? Lost his baby? Yeah, I finally got Alexander to spill. Someone had to have his back. You sure didn’t.”

  “Jesus, Eric.” She took in a stuttered breath. “This tough love thing is … ”

  “Tough? Give me the real reason why you’re leaving him again—and by the way, you’re breaking the deal we made—and I’ll leave you alone.”

  Oh, yeah, the promise she’d made to him the day they filled all those bird feeders—never to leave without telling him. Seems she was always making deals.

  “I don’t want to lose myself again. He has this huge life, and he’s loved and … ” She stared out over the water. “He doesn’t need to shrink himself for me.”

  “News flash. You’ve already shrunk him, and he needs you. Now, why don’t you trust him?”

  “I do. I don’t trust myself.”

  “You know the secret to trusting yourself? It’s really simple, but no one seems to get it. It’s keeping your own agreements with yourself. You say you won’t eat that cupcake, you don’t. You say you love someone, you do.”

  She looked at him like he was crazy, which he was a little bit on the inside since everything went to shit.

  “I never said I didn’t love him,” she said.

  “Then grow up.”

  The amount of steel in his voice surprised even him, but he was not going to let this woman undo Alexander. He couldn’t stop the man’s descent into wherever he seemed to be falling, but she could. Case closed.