A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2) (10 page)

While I admire the smooth, cool fabric with my fingertips, Hunt walks over to the table and blows out the candles, snatching my clutch before heading back over to me. I take it from him, and he guides us over to the elevator. He presses the touchscreen a few times, killing the fire and the lights, leaving only the glow of the city to give us sight. I gaze at Hunt, noticing the outline of his face gently etched by the soft light, the corners of his lips curving up slightly as he smiles to himself.

“What’s so amusing?” I ask, smirking up at him.

The elevator arrives and the doors slide open. Hunt doesn’t look at me; he just stares into the elevator with that omniscient smirk plastered on his face. Before he steps inside, he casually says, “You may want to put that away.”

I realize what that mockingly smug look was for when I glimpse down at my hand clasping onto the collar. I open my clutch, slip it in, and snap the clasp closed, inhaling a large breath before taking my place next to Damian in the cab.

“Do you like it?” he inquires, still refusing to make eye contact with me.

“It’s…interesting,” I reply, glancing out the corner of my eye, and I spot the laughing smirk broadening his cheeks.

“Interesting,” he repeats with a shrug.

“It’s stunning…I love it,” I answer honestly.

“Just not what it stands for,” he retorts.

“I’m not sure what to feel about it.”

He finally turns to me, looking me in the eyes with an intense stare. “Do you hate the idea of being my sub full-time?”

“No.” I shake my head weakly.

“Do you like the idea?”

I turn to him. “I love being your sub. I love pleasing you, but…”

“But?” he asks with eager curiosity, though he tries to hide it.

“But, there’s a part of me that wonders if I’ve seen just how dominant you can be,” I admit candidly. “I know you won’t hurt me, but your need to control is so overwhelming. If this is how you are now, what will you be like when I give into you?”

“Once again, you’re seeing this as a cage, not a way out of the one you’re already in.” I can see the frustration on his face, but his voice remains collected.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. He turns away from me and grabs my hand, yanking me out into the underground garage.

“We’ll discuss this later,” he states, hauling me toward the waiting black Land Rover.

H
unt remains silent as Banks drives us down Van Ness, staring contemplatively out the window with his chin resting in his palm. I take the time to think and run through everything that just happened in my head. I open my clutch and glide my fingers over the cool, smooth metal, feeling Hunt’s name etched in its hard surface.

Hunt’s does have a nice ring to it. His to do with as he pleases. Mmmm.

My thoughts are suddenly on our last night together, at the dungeon, bound and helpless, his to possess. My reveries are abruptly ripped through by Hunt’s voice. “Are you afraid of me?”

I stare at him with a perplexed expression on my face, though the car is dark, so he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am.”

“No, Hunt, I’m not afraid of you,” I answer. “I’m afraid that I won’t be a good sub, I won’t please you the way the others did. What if I can’t do it?”

“Then, we go back to the way things were before,” he states in a nonchalant tone. “You did enjoy that, correct?”

“Yes, greatly.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replies, turning his head to stare back out the window. The headlight’s of passing cars occasionally flash across his wounded face.

How could he be upset that I didn’t accept his proposal of submission? He must’ve known I would need time…Maybe he was hoping it would be different this time, hoping our time apart would affect my decision and how quickly I gave it. I want to keep some sense of independence, but I also want to give him all of me, give him everything he desires.

“We’ve arrived, sir,” Banks announces, interrupting my dazed state. I actually forgot he was there.

“Thank you, Banks.” Hunt exits the vehicle, never glancing at me. He walks around to let me out, offering me a hand. I step out and smell the clean, sweet scent of the city after a long rain. I glance up at the massive white Beaux-Arts structure before me and realize we are at the War Memorial Opera House.

I stare at Hunt with a huge grin plastered to my face once I spot the large banner hanging above us.

A Night with Tchaikovsky

He smiles back at me, pleased with himself.

“How did you know I love Tchaikovsky?” I inquire with delighted wonder.

“When I want information,” he says with a seductive tone, “I have my ways of obtaining it.”

“Once again, Hunt, you’ve managed to amaze me. Well played.”

He chortles. “Thank you, gorgeous.”

He bends an arm, offering it to me, and I take it willingly. We walk inside to the enormous lobby with an intricately carved, arched ceiling. The space is packed full of people dressed in their finest. Men in tuxedos and women in long evening gowns, their makeup perfect, every hair in place. The conversation about the vast hall is a dull roar, just loud enough to have to speak directly into each other’s ear.

Hunt leans in and remarks, “I can’t believe how absolutely ravishing you are, tonight.”

I smirk up at him, and he returns the gesture and grabs two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server, handing one to me. He holds out his flute and lightly clinks it against mine. I take a sip, scanning the room, when I notice a tall fiery-haired beauty, early thirties perhaps, with alert steel-hued eyes, watching us in a way that makes me feel as if I’m being judged.

She is dressed in a blood red strapless gown with tall black pumps. Her hair is down and swept over one shoulder. She is walking sex with an air of confidence and control that leaves me feeling green.

She smirks this seductive lopsided grin in Hunt’s direction, and I look up to him, expecting the customary ignorant haze that comes over him with other women, but that’s not the case. His eyes are glued to hers with an intense awareness that makes me squirm. He doesn’t smile back or wave, even though it’s evident they know one another. He simply stares with an uncertain look I’ve never seen before. It’s almost as if it were a struggle of power.

After a minute or two of awkward silence, he breaks their staring session and puts his half-hearted focus back on me.

“Gabrielle, will you excuse me for a moment? I’ll be right back.” He sounds distracted, distant.

I peer back over at the flaming red-haired beauty who stares right back with an almost teasing smirk.

“Sure, of course,” I reply, turning my attention back onto Hunt.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, but he’s already walking over to her with purpose. They greet one another, kissing on each cheek, and I feel my blood boil.

Who the hell is she? Why is she kissing my man?

They speak for a few moments, laughing and touching, little touches like the graze of his hand over her bicep, her adjusting Hunt’s tie and gently placing a hand on his broad shoulder. She links her arm with his as they speak, standing a little too close. She giggles flirtatiously at something he says, playing with her necklace, and tucks a loose chunk of ruby hair out of her face.

They turn to me abruptly, smiling and talking, clearly about me, but her fake smile doesn’t reach her bright gray eyes. Then, they begin to walk over to me, weaving through the noisy, well-dressed crowd as they drink champagne and mingle.

Are they coming toward me? Oh, no, I don’t think so.
I don’t need to meet this woman to know that she is a part of Hunt’s past.

A group of patrons crosses their path, blocking their view of me and causing them to pause and wait. I take the opportunity to make my escape, swiftly meandering about until I can’t see them anymore. I make it to the other side of the large hall when I hear a perplexed female voice. “Ellie?”

I turn around and find Brooke, blue eyes wide with disbelief, standing beside a tall, stunning man with chestnut hair and blue eyes like hers.

“Hey!” I reply, going in for a hug, and sigh with relief. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too,” she replies as we pull away. “Ellie, this is Wade.”

She doesn’t have to say anymore. She had told me all about him during our drunken movie parties. Wade is her Master.

“Hello, Wade, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I extend a hand, and he takes it, shaking firmly.

“It’s a pleasure, Ellie.” He smiles at me with a warm, welcoming grin. He really is very attractive, especially when he smiles.

“Who are you here with, sweetie?” Just as she asks this, her eyes drift behind me, widening. I glimpse over my shoulder, spotting Hunt as he scans the room for me, the mystery woman still on his arm. I look back at Brooke who is staring at me with worry on her face.

“Hide me,” I plead. “I don’t want them to see me.”

She shakes her head slowly. “It’s too late.”

I turn and spot them walking toward us. Hunt has a scowl on his face, clearly upset with my disappearing act, or perhaps it’s whom I reappeared next to.

“Ellie, do you know who that is?” Brooke inquires, giving me a worried look.

“No, I ran before he could introduce me, but I know she’s someone from his past.”

“Sweetie, that’s Vanessa, his ex-girlfriend.”
What?!
“Smile and act like you aren’t bothered by this.”

I muster a grin just as they make it over to us, but I can’t bring myself to turn and face them. Brooke must notice because she pulls me in between her and Wade, placing an arm through mine, showing her support.

“Brooke,” Hunt greets her, politely nodding his head.

“Damian,” she replies with a tone and noticeable annoyance on her face. He seems taken aback by this, his eyes popping open for an instant then returning to a cool gaze that turns on me. “Gabrielle, where have you been?”

I’m not sure if it’s Brooke or the fact that Vanessa’s arm is still locked with his, but I get a surge of courage, and I go with it. I stare down at their entwined limbs, understandably hurt by the sight of them intimately linked.

“I’ve been here with my friends,” I reply with a slightly irritated tone.

He doesn’t seem to like my ‘tude. But, what is he going to do about it? He can’t do anything, and by the time we get back home, he will have cooled.

Damian glances over at Wade, giving him the once-over. He must not know who he is, because he appears unsure of this tall, dark, and handsome man beside me.
Jealousy.
I do something a tad over the line and shove my arm through Wade’s to get my point across. I glance up at him, and he’s smiling down at me with approval. I think he feels bad for me.

It seems to work because Hunt notices and drops his arm from Vanessa’s. She glances at him, confused by his action. He spots her befuddled expression and says, “Gabrielle, this is Vanessa, an old friend. Vanessa, this is Gabrielle…”

“The girlfriend,” I interrupt with an overly enthusiastic grin, but on the inside, I’m screaming and stomping my feet.

Brooke murmurs under her breath, “You could’ve fooled me.”

I realize I’m not the only one who hears her snippy comment, as Hunt turns his focus on Brooke, recognizably affronted by her sudden disobedient behavior. I try to break the awkward tension, extending my hand out to Vanessa. The look of contempt on her face, the snarl on her lip as she stares at my hand makes my blood boil and my skin crawl. She takes it, squeezing tightly.

“Yes, Gabrielle,” she says with an evident tone. She scans me up and down, studying me, judging me. “I’ve heard
so
much about you.”

Oh, you bitch! Game on.

“Vanessa, was it?” I inquire. It gets to her. I can see the distain on her smug face. “I wish I could say the same, but I’m afraid Hunt hasn’t mentioned
you.
”

Hunt looks at her and then me. He appears bewildered and conflicted, and I realize that this woman may have meant more than he originally let on.

Who is this person? Does she hold a special place in his past, his present, his heart?

I come out of my head and spot Hunt glancing down at my arm still comfortably tucked in Wade’s. His eyes move up to mine, and he offers his hand to me. I clasp on hesitantly, taking my sudden uncertain place at his side. He flings an arm over my shoulders, glaring at Wade, and pulls me into my nook.

“Hunt,” he introduces himself using my name for him, “Damian Hunt, and you are?”

Wade senses his jealousy and lightly chuckles to himself, pulling Brooke into his side. “Wade Cole,” he retorts, not having to utter a word about his place or position. His possessive grip on Brooke’s small waist is enough.

Hunt eases, quietly sighing, and leans into me.

Suddenly, the lights flicker on and off, announcing for us to find our seats. We make our way into the opulent space, with a massive powder blue, oval ceiling and a stunning, Art Deco chandelier directly in the center.