Exit Strategy (25 page)

“Yes, Mr. White?”

“Who’s the gentleman coming to sleep over this weekend?”

“Oh, that would be Timothy Stiers, sir. He and Ms. Gabriel have been friends for more than a year.”

Why hadn’t Aimee ever mentioned him before now? It ticks him off to be kept in the dark about a guy she’s close enough to she’s invited him to stay in her place over the weekend. Tristan knew Aimee had friends at the facility, but he didn’t know there was a special one. He doesn’t allow Mrs. Hathaway or Keisha to know how much this upsets him.

“Thank you,” he says with a smile and continues toward the foyer. They walk onto the waiting elevator and only then does Tristan let loose.

“What the fuck was that all about, Keisha? We may not have been in my condo, but this is still a role-play weekend. One would think you’d have better control of your rampant emotions as long as we’ve been doing this.”

“My rampant emotions? What about yours, Tristan? You looked like you were about to take Aimee up on the offer to spank her in there.”

“What? That’s absurd. Aimee can’t feel anything past her neck. It would be the height of impropriety to use her as a submissive in her condition. She has phantom burning pain regularly. She’s hooked up to a catheter a great deal of the time and has to go through a rather elaborate process just to use the bathroom. You think she wants to participate in the lifestyle in her condition?”

“I don’t know what she wants as it concerns the lifestyle, but I know what a woman in love looks like. What? Did you dump her because she was hurt, or did that happen before you had the accident?”

The elevator opens and they spill into his condo, now practically yelling at each other.

Although he’s never been one to stifle a submissive’s personality and feelings at every turn, Tristan takes his hardline Dominant stance in this situation. “That is ancient history, and those questions are immaterial to you as my current submissive.”

“That’s a copout, and you know it. Why even take me down there? All you had to do was tell me about her condition. I’m not stupid. I know that spinal cord injuries are debilitating to say the least. Besides, I’d already seen her on the gurney.”

“You must’ve been curious enough to want to meet her, or you could’ve refused to go. Are you saying now I had some ulterior motive for taking you down there? You are the one who insisted you saw her at the mayor’s gala.”

“I saw somebody; I’m not refuting that. It’s just. Damn! That was so... humiliating.”

Tristan is flummoxed by that statement. When he’d mentioned having her meet Aimee she’d seemed anxious to do so. He didn’t get what transpired that could’ve changed her mind. She and Aimee seemed to get along well enough. They’d even conspired against him in their teasing.

Keisha turns to head up the stairs, but he grabs her hand and turns her back to him.

“I can’t read your mind, Keisha. What was so humiliating about it? Because I don’t have a goddamned clue.”

“Not only did you react favorably to her about the spanking, but then you proceeded to give her the third degree about her houseguest. It shouldn’t even matter to you that she’s seeing someone, unless you have unreconciled feelings for her.”

Usually, he is amenable to hearing her out, even though her feelings and opinions sometimes border on gross conduct unbecoming of a proper submissive, but just as he always is on the subject of Aimee, he won’t yield. “Any feelings I have for Aimee, reconciled or unreconciled, should hardly be of concern to you.”

Keisha looks stung for a brief second. Then she composes herself and sinks into a submissive posture, and he knows she’s gone there for self-preservation because his words had their intended effect. “You’re right, Sir. This humble submissive shouldn’t have had the audacity to question you about a former submissive. Please forgive my insubordination.”

Tristan didn’t like himself very much at that moment, but then he’d rather come across as a monumental prick than to admit weakness. Even so, his voice is barely above a whisper when he replies.

“You’re forgiven.”

Even in her submission she is defiant, if that were possible. “If you are in agreement, Sir, I would like to use the piano in the library this afternoon to do some writing.”

There goes his previous plan of spending a couple of hours in the role-play room. Granted, he could override her and request that she report there anyway, but his head wasn’t in the game any more than hers is at the moment. He’ll allow her time to decompress and immerse herself in the catharsis of composing. Maybe after dinner they’ll both be better equipped to handle a couple of hours of scenes.

“Permission granted,” he says. “I’ll be in my office should you wish to join me there later.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His emotions are in such turmoil, it takes him a second to realize she’s waiting until he dismisses her.

“You may have free time until after dinner.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Only then does she turn and leave.

Something twists hard in his chest. An emotion that is totally foreign to him. Tristan exercises mind over matter and steels himself to recognize only his Dom demeanor. He can’t afford to be soft and allow any concessions. Once he loses his submissive’s respect, he’d just as soon be a cuckold.

~*~

Keisha is even more beautiful in slumber. Her totally relaxed visage takes on an angelic quality that she can’t quite pull off awake. Snark keeps her vulnerability in check. At least with him, it does. Tristan has seen her relax only with her roommate and Guitar Guy, a situation he’d like to remedy if the truth be told. This girl has wormed her way into his life in such an enduring fashion that he finds himself hoping more often than not that she never decides to move on and settle down. Yet how fair is it for him to demand exclusivity as long as he desires her when he can arbitrarily decide at any point their arrangement is finished?

It’s as if Keisha feels his presence, because she stirs and begins to mumble words in Portuguese as she sleeps.

“Eu te amo tanto
, Tristan.”

Other than his name, Tristan only recognizes the word
amo
. Fear grips him. Does he dare believe Keisha’s feelings encompass more than a submissive’s reverence for her Dom? His first thought is to flee, but he stands frozen, looking down at her as a slow smile graces her lips. Shortly after, her eyes flicker open, and she’s startled by his presence in the room.

“Shh . . .” he whispers. “It’s just me.”

Keisha stretches like a feline, her body briefly becoming rigid on the bed and then relaxing as he slides onto the bed next to her. “You looked so peaceful, I thought I might take a nap, too.”

She yawns again and covers her mouth with one hand, speaking from behind it. “Is that all you want to do?”

Tristan laughs. “Yes, Keisha. However, I can nap in the other bedroom if you prefer to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s your home, and that means you get to sleep where you want.”

“It’s also your home on the weekends. At least I hope it feels that way to you.”

She grins. “This place has sort of grown on me.”

“Good,” he says and curls himself around her tiny frame to enjoy a much-needed nap.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KEISHA

There is something wholly inappropriate about mothers calling to wake you up after a night of kinky sex. Maybe this changes when you’re over thirty, or actually married, but I have no frame of reference this morning.

“Keisha Anarosa!”

“Yes, Mama.” I’m sure my face is red when I hear my mother’s voice.

Tristan’s eyes open when the phone rings, but when he hears me say hello to my mama, he closes them again. He settles on his stomach, and throws an arm across my torso as if he senses I’ll bolt from the bed if given half the chance. It is too damn early in the morning for me to have a conversation of any substance with my mother, but now that I’ve picked up the phone, I can’t hang up on her.

“Where is Telluride?” The way Mama says it sound like
tell her ride
.

“It’s Tell-u-ride.” I correct her, knowing she hates it, but I’d rather take her anger than have her continue to say it wrong. Tristan’s blue peepers open again, watching with interest as I have this conversation with my mother. The irony isn’t lost on me that she’s asking about the very place where Tristan and Aimee had their accident. “It’s in Colorado. Why do you ask?

“William and I got this beautiful card from Tristan, two plane tickets, and an invitation to spend the first week of our honeymoon at his vacation home in Telluride, and then we leave there and go on to Tahiti. It’s an ‘ice and fire’ package as described by the travel agency.”

“That’s great, Mama. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Will you please thank Tristan for me?”

Without thinking I immediately say to him, “Mama says thank you for the wedding gift.”

“Please tell her she’s very welcome,” he says.

“Oh, so you’re with Tristan? Now? This early in the morning?”

Busted.

“Mama—”

“I know, I know. You’re a grown-ass woman. Anyway, I have another reason to be calling so early. Pastor Johnson and I are postponing the wedding until after this trial business is over.”

“Really? Mama you shouldn’t have.”

“I couldn’t just get married and leave town knowing you’ve got to face Byron in court alone.”

“It’s only supposed to be a few days. A week at most, and Tristan’s going to testify. He’s hired a lawyer friend to help us and everything.”

“What kind of mother would I be if I left you with no support, even if I’m not in the courtroom, I want to be here for you. Put Tristan on the phone, baby, so I can thank him properly.”

I shake my head and hand Tristan the phone, and he takes it like the indulgent Dom he is. He clears his throat. “Good morning, Mrs. Beale.”

His hand begins a slow excursion from my waist to my ass, and he cups it possessively.

“It was my pleasure. Yes, it’s fully furnished so you don’t have to take anything but yourselves and clothes... or not.” He laughs, and I can hear Mama giggling, too. Then Mama’s talking again, but what I hear sounds like some version of the Chipmunks, she’s talking so fast.

Tristan moves his hand back up until it covers one of my breasts. I squirm. This is strange having him maul me while he’s on the phone with my mother. I try to move, but his arm goes around me again and keeps me in place.

“Do you or the pastor ski?... Uh-huh... . Oh, he does. Good... Don’t be afraid, they have plenty of bunny slopes for beginners... Then the pastor will enjoy teaching you. That might not be a bad idea... I’m sure Keisha would be happy to have your support.”

I tune out the rest of their conversation as I think about where he’s sending them for their honeymoon: his father’s vacation property that he and Aimee used to frequent—until the accident. It feels weird knowing my mother will begin her married life with Pastor Johnson there.

“Okay, Clara Lee. Talk to you again soon. Good-bye.”

Tristan hands me my phone and then pulls me close to him. He searches my face. “You’re not upset I did that for your mother, are you?”

I chew the inside of my bottom lip. “No, not at all. I’m happy they’ll actually be able to go on a honeymoon now. I guess I was just wondering why Telluride?”

“Because it’s a gorgeous, very romantic property, and I think your mother and the pastor will have a damn good time there.”

“Under a different set of circumstances, I’d be thrilled for them to go to Telluride. It’s somewhere they probably wouldn’t decide to go on their own. But in light of everything happening, I’m not sure it’s a safe place for them to be.”

“There will be no danger, I promise you. You think I’d send them anywhere without security chaperones?”