A Dominant Man (45 page)

“No, but it’s obvious he has more than a few, and they’re probably pretty grotesque. He may be a dominant man, but he’s also a very damaged man, which I’m sure you know by now. Once he lets you into his private life, it doesn’t take long
to spot the cracks.”

“He tries so hard to hide them.”

“I bought him the mask.” My eyes shoot to hers. “And by the look on your face, I’m guessing you’ve seen it.”

“It’s a
mazing, and I’m glad it was you rather than Olivia.”

“Don’t mention that horrendous woman’s name, please. I can’t stand that fucking bitch.”

I laugh really hard.

“I like you more with every word. I feel the same way.”

“What did she do to you?”

“I don’t care what she does to me, more like what she’s done to Hunt. She isn’t good for him.”

“No, she isn’t,” she agrees, shaking her head gently.

“What did she do to you?”

“What didn’t she do? She was one of the reason’s I left. I couldn’t take her any longer.”

“You left?”

“Yes. I might’ve stayed if it weren’t for her vindictive behavior. She seemed to believe she had claim on him. However, she isn’t the one you need to worry about.”

“Who is?”

“Marlena, his ex-Dom, is the sneaky one. She acts sweet at first, especially in front of Hunt, but once he’s out of earshot, the claws come out.”

“How much do you know about her?”

“I don’t know much, only what he told me and what I’ve seen. It was in our contracts that we were never to look up information on him, ever.”

“The contract,” I murmur to myself.

“Did you sign one?”

“No, he didn’t deem it necessary in our arrangement, but I asked for one. I wanted the guidelines laid out for me, so he’s having one drawn up.”

“Wow, you sounded like him for a moment, but it’s hard for him not to rub off on you.” She pauses and sniffs the air around me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you smell of him.” She smiles shyly at me, knowing what had occurred a short while before our meeting. I smile back at her and blush. “I’m glad we could talk.”

“Me, too. I’ve needed it.”

“Well, let me give you my number. If you ever need to talk to anyone, I’ll be there.”

“That would be amazing.” I hand her my phone, and she punches in her info. She gives it back, and I press send. Her cell goes off, and I hang up.

“Now, you have mine if you ever need the same.”

“Thanks. Maybe we can do lunch or something.”

“That would be great. Call me.” I smirk at her.

“I will.” She gives me a big, genuine smile.

“We better skedaddle before Hunt comes in search of me.”

“Concurred.”
She agrees with a gentle nod of the head.

We gather our things, laughing and talking as we exit to the loud atmosphere of the bar. I’m looking back at her when I slam into a huge object. I spot the look of fear on her face,
and I don’t need to turn my head to know whom I crashed into, but I do so anyway.

He’s glaring at us with his arms crossed over his torso. He doesn’t say a word to either of us, only stares in that intimidating manner. Even though the music is blaring, and the mob is a thunderous roar, his silence is the most deafening. I can’t take it, and I break through it, attempting to get
Brooke out of his line of fire as soon as possible. I turn to her and say, “It was nice talking with you, Brooke.”

I reach out and shake her hand, giving her a run look with my eyes.

“Same, Gabrielle,” she replies with a stunned expression on her extraordinary face and rushes off. I take a moment before turning around. When I do, his blazing emerald eyes are piercing into me. I take a big gulp before speaking, “Hi, slick.”

He doesn’t reply. He watches.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but it’s a few minutes at least. We stare at one another, neither ready to make a move, and then he snatches up my hand.

He tows me back over to the private lounge, where he announces, “Gabrielle and I will be taking our leave. Please, feel free to stay and enjoy. My driver will wait for you outside, and when you’re ready, he will escort you home. Have a good evening and get home safely.” He’s polite, but rigid.

I gawk at my friends, and they gawk right back. Chase looks as disappointed as I am. I really want to spend time with him, but at this rate, I may never get the chance. I shoot him a small smile and a shrug. He gives me a weak one back.

Hunt doesn’t wait and hauls me out of the room with an extra tight grip on my scrunched hand. We rush through the thick mess of people and break out into the icy air. The black Koenigsegg is sitting out front waiting for us. We didn’t take it, so I’m guessing
Liam brought it over. He walks us to her and opens my door. I pause before entering, gazing up at him pleading him to speak, to look at me, but he doesn’t. He stares off into the night and pretends as if I’m not even there.

I flop into the low vehicle, slide my legs in, and buckle up. He slams the door so hard the car shakes, and the thud hurts my ears. I sit silently
, waiting for him to get in and scream until my ears bleed, but he doesn’t. He stands outside of the car for a long moment, and when he enters, he doesn’t say a word to me. He buckles in and starts her up. She violently awakens, her engine coming to life with a thunderous roar, and he takes off like a bullet from a gun, shooting down the partially deserted street.

My hand grips the door handle,
and my heeled feet dig into the floorboard as he weaves between cars and cuts sharp corners. I feel my body forced back into the chair, and my heart pounds as if we were about to take off into flight. If all that weren’t enough, his anger is thick in the air, packing the small space full of negative energy. I can’t breathe, as if the oxygen is made of Jell-O.

H
e doesn’t talk all the way home, and once we’re there, he continues his agonizing torture. I don’t know what to think.

Is he mad? Hurt? Does he feel betrayed? What is wrong with him?

I’m about to give up and go home, heading toward the elevator, when he speaks, “Do you want to see the portrait I took?” He’s calm, eerily so.

I turn to stare at him, wide-eyed and confused.

“Ok,” I reply, befuddled.

He gently clamps onto my hand and guides me up to his bedroom. He flips on the lights, and my eyes cast upon the photo in question, hanging center on the wall to our left. I’m taken back by the subject matter. I knew to expect to be in it, but I didn’t expect to be nude.

My shadowy silhouette is cloaked by the misty shower glass, as steam billows and flows about the room. I appear to be rinsing down, hands running through my hair, every curve on my body exposed from head to toe.

I study it, intrigued by the raw beauty of the moment captured forever. This is how Hunt sees me. I’m beautiful through his eyes, and with his masterful photography, I can see what he does.

“What do you think? Can I keep it up?”

“As always, your work is breathtaking. I’m proud to be displayed for your visual pleasure. You can keep it up.” I take a quick glance around the room, realizing the photos of the others are missing
. I wonder which one belonged to Brooke.
“Is that it?”

“What were you expecting? I thought you liked it.”

“I mean about earlier. You didn’t say anything until now, and it’s about the photograph. What the hell was wrong with you?”

“Gabrielle, my ex approaches us at a club, and you behave casually about it, then I find you laughing and joking with her coming out of the restroom where women talk. At this point, I’m unsure what I feel or think of the situation. I only brought up the photo to keep you from leaving.”

“Don’t leave would work, too. Why were you standing outside waiting for us?”

“I wasn’t. I came to find you, and you ran into me.”

“Come on, slick. I know you have questions.”

“What happened in there? What did she tell you?”

“No more than I asked her to. We did talk, it was about you, and it won’t be the last.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with an annoyed curiosity.

“We have plans for lunch.”

“No,” he says curtly

“Excuse me?” I ask with a tone, arms crossed over my chest.

“No, you will not.”

“Yes, I will. I like her, and I want to get to know her.”

“You can’t be friends with my ex-sub.”

“Who the fuck says?”

“It’s an unspoken rule.”

“Who’s? That’s bullshit.”

“It’s a general understanding.”

“Fuck that. I’m going to have lunch with her. End of discussion.” I stride past him, but he firmly clasps my wrist and keeps me from leaving.

“No, it’s not.”

“What is there to talk about?” I turn hurriedly, back to him.

“What did she tell you about me, about us? What do you feel about what she told you? Why does
Chase have a key?”

I sigh.

“She gave me a few examples on what you expected of her, what you did to her. She told me you were big into obedience and punishment, but I’m familiar with that. She said you were extremely dark, but also giving and thoughtful. She told me about her mother, how you took care of everything. She spoke very highly of you and your relationship. Plus, she told me about how it ended after two years of servitude. You liked her.”

“Is that a question?”

“No, you don’t keep someone around for two years if you don’t like them. This is a question. Would you still be with her if she hadn’t broken it off?”

“No. I would’ve ended it eventually. Yes, I liked her. She was an excellent slave and companion, but it couldn’t go anywhere.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want an attachment.” He takes a steadying breath. “How do you feel about what she said?”

I take a breath to catch my bearings.

“As far as how I feel about it, I feel no difference in the level of love I possess for you.”

I giggle when I remember a part of our conversation.

“What?”

“She said I sound like you, smell of you.”

“Did she?” he asks with lackluster and an arched brow.

“Yes. I think she knew what we had just done.” I remember how stern he was with her. “Why do you act cold toward her?”

“I always behave in such a manner with my subs.”
Even now, he sounds cold, distancing himself from the conversation.

“I figured, but she isn’t your sub anymore.”

“In one form or another, they are. They always will be.”

“What?!” I ask, unsure of what I just heard.

“You still haven’t answered my question about Chase.”

“I’ll answer when you tell me what you mean.”

He gives me that stare, that gaze that tells me he isn’t to be challenged. “Answer me.”

“I tried to kill myself,” I blurt out. I’m surprised it came out easily.

“You attempted suicide?” he asks with a disturbed look. He almost seems to deflate, his stiffened, defensive posture sagging as if the weight of the world just plopped itself upon his shoulders.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Pills,” I respond casually. “Your turn.”

“It’s a possession I can’t explain.”

“I understand the concept of possession. It answers why the cradle robber feels she still owns you.”

“Let’s not talk about her.”

“Agreed. What shall we discuss?”

“Are you fucking serious?” He aggressively runs his fingers through his hair. “You only just told me you attempted suicide, and you want to know what we should discuss.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Gabrielle…”

“Don’t Gabrielle
me. I don’t want to. Respect that. I respected you all those times you asked the same of me.”

“Gabrielle…”

“Damian. Enough,” I snap.

He appears stunned by my moxie
.

I know people don’t order him around, but I’m not just a random person, and he has to accept my right to privacy. I say when I’m ready to talk, not him.

“Fine. I’m dropping it…for now,” he says through tight lips.

“Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?”

I glance at the clock. It’s fifteen minutes to one, and I’m surprisingly awake.

“Yeah, actually, I’m starving.”

“What would you like?”

“I want a cheeseburger with french fries.”

“That’s my girl, always with the junk food.” He picks up the phone and makes a brief call.
Who the hell would he call at this time a night?
“Status?” he asks the mystery caller. “Both of them…? The others…? Excellent…Yes…I need you to pick up two cheeseburgers and fries…Yes, that will be fine…Keep me informed of any changes.” He hangs up and saunters over to me at the end of the bed.