Mine (6 page)

Dmitri sighed in almost relief. If anyone could help him now, it was the men that Charles had once introduced him to so many years ago, giving him deeper connections in the BDSM community. Men whom Dmitri had gone to before he opened Club Sin. They'd offered advice on how to shape his dungeon, the practices to use to keep it safe, and how to keep it concealed.

He texted back:
Thank you. I'll see you then.

Another beep echoed in his car before Micah's message appeared:
Is everything all right?

No,
was all Dmitri typed back.

A car will be waiting for you at the airport.

Having a plan brought relief. Perhaps that was the worst part—the unknown. But before he could return to the house to pack a bag for his trip, he knew he needed to send one final text—the most important one he could send before he left for San Francisco.

He scrolled through his contacts again. Finding Cora's name, he typed:
Please go to Presley in the morning. She'll need you.

“Wakey, wakey, buttercup.”

Presley opened an eye, finding Cora smiling next to the bed with a Starbucks cup in her hand. The sun shone through the window, highlighting the hints of red in Cora's dark hair, which she was wearing down today. “Coffee is the best way to wake up.” She winked. “Well, maybe second to waking up to a naked and sexy Dom.”

The instant reminder of last night sank deep into Presley's heart. Dmitri hadn't come back, and her already broken heart now shattered. She'd taken a sleeping pill at midnight, knowing she'd never sleep otherwise. The haziness from the medication made her mind slow, but she forced herself to shake it off.

Presley suspected that Cora's appearance now was no coincidence. “How did you get in?” she asked.

“Dmitri called the manager of the hotel this morning.” Cora placed the coffee cup on the bedside table. “He texted me last night and asked if I could come over to be with you.” Concern tightened the corner of her eyes as she dropped down onto the bed next to Presley. “What's going on?”

Presley reached for the coffee cup and took a sip, relishing the warmth. “Things are…
bad
.” The memory of last night horrified her now as much as it had after Dmitri left. He had been such a solid feature in her life. His emotions never wavered. He always seemed in control, but he wasn't being himself. She had no idea how to bring him back from all this. She'd never met this side of Dmitri, the part that was spiraling into despair.

“Okay, before you explain to me exactly what that means, I've got something else for you.” Cora offered a folded piece of paper. “Dmitri left this with the manager, who asked me to bring it up.”

Presley's heart banged against her chest as she put her coffee cup down on the table and grabbed the note with shaking hands.

Presley,

I'm going out of town. I will be back as soon as I can. Last night was nothing I'm proud of, and I know we need to talk. Please be patient and trust in us.

I love you.

—D

She stared at the note, a cold wave of shock blasting into her. While the message showed he was sorry and that he did still love her, nothing about this note pleased her. Last night he'd heard how upset she was about being ignored, and yet he'd done it again.

Tears welled in her eyes as the note fell from her hand. She couldn't stop the sob from breaking free from her throat.

Cora immediately grabbed Presley's hands. “What did it say?”

“He left.” Presley lifted her head, not bothering to hide her tears and her sadness from her best friend.

“What do you mean, he left?” Cora's eyes went huge. “Where did he go?”

“I don't know.” Presley sniffed, handing Cora the note. “That's the problem.”

Cora scanned the message, then lifted her head, her typically bubbly expression now darkened. “There has to be a good reason for this. Aidan went over to Kyler's at midnight last night, so I'm guessing they've found a lead or something.”

Of course—that explained Dmitri's actions. He had left to deal with whoever was behind this leak. Still her heart ached. “Why isn't
Dmitri
telling me that, the way Aidan is sharing with you?” She wiped the tears off her face. She was so damn exhausted.

“I don't know, babe.” Cora hesitated, her eyes searching Presley's. “But I know Dmitri, and I know there has to be a reason why he's gone away and left only a note behind.”

“I thought I knew him, too.” Presley dropped her head into her hands and allowed herself to cry. To weep for what was happening. To sob for the future she no longer knew if she had with Dmitri. And to fall apart because of the deep sadness shattering her heart.

Cora rubbed Presley's back comfortingly, but nothing could comfort Presley now. And when Cora said, “He loves you,” Presley's stomach clenched.

“I'm not sure loving me is enough.” Presley lifted her head, accepting the tissue Cora handed her. She dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose. “He's treating me really badly, Cora. Last night I had to pull my safe word on him.”

“You did?”

Presley nodded, her eyes fixed on the tissue in her lap. “He lost all control of himself, and for the first time ever he touched me in a way that was so selfish. I couldn't allow that. I didn't want it. At first I thought the aggression was helping him rid himself of something, but then I realized it wasn't that at all.”

“Not like that is acceptable, because it's not, and he's a huge douche bag for it,” Cora said softly. “But he
is
going through a lot.”

Anger rose alongside the sadness, and Presley pushed off the duvet. “Yeah, well, so am I.” She jumped out of bed in her nightie and began to pace the room. “I told him last night that I didn't want to be ignored. And yet”—she flicked her hand toward the stupid note—“he's doing it again.”

Cora crossed her legs on the bed, a line forming between her brows. “You're right—you don't deserve that. And you certainly do not deserve to be an outlet for him to unleash his stress.” She paused, then added with a grim voice, “But at the same time, that's just so unlike Dmitri. I've never seen him lose control in any aspect of his life in all the years I've known him.”

“I didn't think it was possible, either.” Presley turned to pace in the opposite direction. “But it happened. I don't even know the man who touched me last night.” She stopped, then leaned against the dresser, her gaze on Cora. “And you know, it makes me ask questions that I never asked myself before.”

Cora cocked her head curiously. “What kind of questions?”

“Why hasn't he proposed to me?”

A pause. “Have you guys talked about marriage?”

“Well, not really.” Presley began to pace the room again, unable to stand still. Yes, Dmitri had his reasons for keeping her out of all this. Yet she had a voice—one she was tired of having silenced. “But he should know I want to be married. I mean, he knows I'm that type of girl. I accepted his collar—why wouldn't I accept his ring?”

Cora's gaze drifted to the necklace around Presley's neck as Presley resumed pacing the room. “I remember Aidan telling me a while back that Dmitri said he wanted to wait because of your family. You didn't get out of the engagement with Steven all that long ago. I think he wanted your parents to get to know him first.”

“And they have,” Presley shot back. “They love him!”

Cora raised her hands in surrender. “I'm just telling you what I know. Don't kill the messenger.”

Presley sighed, not wanting to take this out on her best friend, who had always been there for her. Without Cora, Presley never would have met Dmitri, and for two years now Presley had had a life she'd once only dreamed of. One with a man who adored her, took her to erotic pleasures she'd never known, and made her feel special. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to be bitchy.” She moved back to the bed and dropped down next to Cora. “I'm just…”

“Pissed?” Cora offered.

“Yes. That.” Presley gave a firm nod, settling back against the soft pillows. “And so much more.” She forced the red-hot emotions away so that she could focus on admitting what was really scaring her. “What if he only sees this as a D/s relationship?”

Cora frowned. “You
are
in a D/s relationship.”

“No, I mean, he's treating me like he would a submissive—keeping his problems to himself, looking out for
me
, and being the big, bad Dom.”

“Um…” Cora eyed Presley. “Sorry if you're only realizing this now, but that's kinda what you signed up for.”

Presley waved a hand, trying to find the right words. “I know that he's all of those things on occasion. And most of the time I love that about him. But I mean, that's only supposed to happen in the dungeon or during sexy times. That's what we agreed to. That's what I want. I don't want submission all the time. I want my own voice. I want a man standing by my side, not making me stand behind him.”

Cora glanced at her lap for a long moment before finally looking up through her long lashes. “I don't really know what to say here. I understand where Dmitri is coming from. The thing that means the most to him is falling apart. He feels that the members trusted him and that he's let them down. He's scrambling to somehow make this all better.”

“Yes, and that's my point. That's the biggest problem of all.” At Cora's arched brow, Presley explained, “
I
should be the most important thing to him.”

After a moment Cora nodded. “You're right. You should be.” She took Presley's hand lightly in hers. “You know I will support you with any decision you make, so I guess the only thing left to ask is, what are you going to do?”

Presley looked down to their held hands. Her friendship with Cora had always been so uncomplicated. First they'd been best friends, then they'd been roommates, and then they'd become fellow submissives. Cora and she just
fit.
But Presley had changed since first meeting Cora. She'd become stronger. She'd tasted happiness.

Once Dmitri had told her to stand up for herself, and perhaps that lesson in the dungeon that one night—which seemed like a lifetime ago—had stuck more than she realized. She didn't deserve this treatment, no matter what Dmitri was going through. She wouldn't tolerate a man behaving as though she was second in his life, pushing her away and acting as if she was nothing more than a mindless fuck when things got tough. She wanted more than that for herself.

Hell, she deserved to be put first.

She sighed, embracing the strength rising inside her. “I'm going to do exactly what Dmitri would tell me to do.”

Cora's eyebrows lifted. “Which is…?”

She loved Dmitri with every bit of her soul. But loving someone didn't mean it was okay to let that person hurt her. She replied, “Be strong. Do what
I
want. And never allow anyone to treat me like shit.”

Meeting arranged. Foxie's, 1 p.m.

Dmitri stared at his phone, rereading Porter's text. It was now a little after ten o'clock in the morning, and Dmitri sat at his sleek desk in his casino office. It was hard to believe that it had come to this. He fired off a reply confirming the meeting, all the while thinking of the next steps, strategizing his response to Steven.

His next text was to Aidan:
Mind preparing a copyright agreement before noon? Might come in handy.

Aidan replied quickly.
It'll be delivered to your office within an hour.

Thank you,
Dmitri texted back before he placed his cell next to his keyboard and stared out the glass windows into the main office. He mindlessly watched his employees hustling past his office. The looming afternoon conversation weighed on him, but much needed to be done before he mended Club Sin's problems.

With plans in place and his confidence renewed about the path he needed to take, Dmitri spent the rest of the morning focusing on the casino, though the situation with Presley was never far from his mind. His fingers twitched to reach for his phone and call her, yet how could he? It was impossible for him to right all that had gone wrong when he couldn't tell her the truth.

His heavy heart begged to reach out to her. But his mind told him to wait. The truth would cripple her, and he would never do that to her.

On top of it all, he was scrambling trying to settle things at the casino, rescheduling his meetings for the next couple of days.

By the time lunch rolled around, Dmitri's mind was quieter as he drove down the strip toward Foxie's, a five-star restaurant known for its fine Italian cuisine. His muscles twitched as he parked at the curb and grabbed from the passenger seat the envelope containing the agreement that Aidan had sent over. Everything inside of him wanted to make this personal. Nothing would please him more than to take all his frustration out on Steven. But with Club Sin on the line, not to mention Presley's well-being, he would keep this all business.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

The hot sun beat down on the shoulders of his tailored black suit as he exited his sports car, refastening the top button of the jacket. He spotted Kyler waiting outside the door of the restaurant wearing his police uniform. While Dmitri had known that Kyler was working today, he also thought the uniform only helped their case now. “Ready?” he asked.

Kyler gave a firm nod. “Always.”

Dmitri noted the twinkle in Kyler's eyes—clearly he would be happy to deal with Steven. But this show belonged to Dmitri, no one else. “I need you to stay close, but let me talk to him alone.”

Kyler paused, clearly annoyed. “If that's what you want.”

“That's what I want.”
What I need to do,
Dmitri thought as he opened the door to the classy restaurant he'd visited many times for business. Tables covered with white linen were spread out through the small rectangular restaurant. It came as no surprise the restaurant was busy, as the Italian food was the best he'd ever tasted. But food was not his focus today.

Dmitri scanned the tables, searching for Steven. He found Presley's ex-fiancé by one of the large windows to the right of the bar. Steven was a good two heads shorter than Dmitri and had less bulk, indicating to Dmitri that Steven didn't spend much time in the gym. Wearing casual clothing, Steven seemed out of place in the fancy restaurant—out of place in Dmitri's world. Dmitri enjoyed that.

“May I help you?”

Dmitri addressed the young brunette dressed in a black pantsuit. “No, thank you. My guest has already arrived.” Noticing the hostess's astonished expression, Dmitri glanced over his shoulder to see Kyler looking rather foreboding in his uniform.

Kyler smiled tightly. “Unofficial business, I assure you.”

“Okay,” the greeter said. “Shall I show you to the table?”

Dmitri lifted his hand. “No need.”

Not waiting for a reply, he strode past her. It had been almost two years since he'd seen Presley's ex-fiancé. He hadn't changed much, and Dmitri liked knowing that Presley had changed a lot, knowing she deserved so much more than this asshole.

Hearing laughter and conversation around him, tension burned through Dmitri. As he closed in on the table, Kyler took his position at the bar.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Then Dmitri was directly behind Steven, who was drinking a cola.

His muscles quivered with a desire to
hurt
this man, but Dmitri pushed it back. He knew better than to piss Steven off. Today was about coming to an agreement. He reminded himself to stay focused and confident, no lashing out.

When Dmitri moved to the seat across from Steven, unbuttoned his jacket, and sat down, the fucker slowly glanced up. Stunned brown eyes under thick eyebrows met Dmitri, and a flush crept across Steven's thin face. Dmitri held his stare, knowing Steven would read nothing in his expression—a trick he'd perfected over the years that had served him well in high-stakes business negotiations.

Dmitri wanted to make Steven uncomfortable.

Scared, even.

He placed the envelope on the table next to the glass of water, and when Steven started to rise, Dmitri said sternly, “Sit down, or I'll have you arrested for blackmail.” He tipped his chin toward Kyler, who stood at the bar, arms crossed over his chest.

Steven regarded Kyler a moment before he gingerly sat back down, his anger obvious. “What do
you
want?”

A thousand questions and demands rushed through Dmitri's mind, but only one remained important. “What is your motive behind the pictures?”

Red-hot wrath burned across Steven's face. “How did you—”

“The
how
is not important.” Dmitri leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Only the motive is. What's your play?”

Steven's jaw twitched, those brown eyes black with ire. “I'm sure you know exactly why.”

“For Presley?”

Steven straightened in his seat, studying Dmitri. “I'm protecting her.”

“By exposing her to the tabloids?” Dmitri scoffed.

“By showing her parents exactly what she has turned into, and to get her back home to Apple Valley.” Steven's nostrils flared. “She's changed now. Different. I've seen her at your house wearing slutty clothes. That is not the Presley I know. I told her before, and I'll say it again—I owe her this for the wrong I did to her. It's for her own good.”

Dmitri knew that Steven thought Presley had fallen into a deep depression because he had cheated on her. In fact, Steven couldn't have been more wrong. It just reminded Dmitri that Steven didn't really know her. Not the
real
her. Not the special woman Dmitri knew.

He concentrated on keeping his face emotionless as Steven added, “I know that she only works part-time now, since her employer told me when I called to get an appointment with Presley. You've completely taken control of her life!” Flames of anger filled his eyes, and his lip curled. “My mother talks to her mother, and she has told me that Presley's mother still thinks Presley is working full-time. She is too fucking scared—or ashamed—to even talk to her mother. Did you know that I'm still so connected to the family?”

“No, I did not.” That connection didn't bother Dmitri. Presley's mother was a sweet woman. He assumed that she would keep in touch with the family that had almost been her in-laws. He also suspected Presley didn't tell her mother about the change in her job, because that was entirely like Presley—always worried about what others would think of her.

Besides, Dmitri heard the underlying point: Steven thought Presley was a complete mess and that Dmitri was the man who was bulldozing her.

That was so far from the truth it was almost laughable.
Almost.

When Dmitri offered nothing more, Steven sneered. “What you've done with her is wrong, man. She was a good girl, had a good head on her shoulders, and a great job. You've belittled her and made her nothing but your sex slave.”

“In your eyes.” Dmitri countered, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Only in your eyes.”

“If you love her and aren't using her for your perverted lifestyle, why haven't you married her? From what I hear, you're not even engaged.” The flush on Steven's face deepened. “It's because you don't respect her enough to do it. Isn't that right?”

A line was being crossed here, and Dmitri fought to keep a level head. He leaned in a bit closer and warned, “Be careful, Steven.”

“Do you forget that I was engaged to her?” Steven shot back, jarring the table with his leg and rattling the glasses on top. “I've known her longer. She's a sweet girl who's been corrupted by a powerful pervert.”

Dmitri let the insult roll off his back. Ignorance was ignorance. “You honestly believe that outing her in a public magazine is going to somehow
fix
her?”

“No.” Steven leaned back in his seat with a proud look. “I believe that outing her is going to ruin you and expose your sick sex club. And that maybe, just maybe, she'll be so embarrassed she'll go home to her family. And then she'll get her fucking head on straight again.” Guilt flashed through his eyes, though it quickly vanished. “I hurt her. I'm taking ownership of that. This is my amends for what I did to her.”

Dmitri absorbed that, shaking his head. Of course, those in the vanilla world didn't understand what Club Sin was about. He couldn't begrudge anyone their lack of knowledge, because the club was too secretive for anyone outside it to truly know how it worked.

Before Dmitri had discovered that it was Steven behind the leak, he'd wanted to bury that person; now he wanted Steven to go away quietly. It had become personal—too personal. The root of this involved Presley. And Dmitri needed to clean this up as quickly and peacefully as possible.

“Can I get you a drink?”

Dmitri blinked as the voice drew him out of his thoughts. He glanced up at the blond waitress and shook his head. “No, thank you. I won't be here long.”

The waitress gave both him and Steven a searching look, clearly not blind to the tension between them, before she strode away. Dmitri shut his eyes a moment, pushing away the emotion clouding his mind.
Business
, he reminded himself. He reopened his eyes, finding Steven's on his. “Everyone has a price. Name yours.”

“Price?” Steven repeated with clear confusion.

“Financial incentive,” Dmitri explained. “What amount of money would make you hand over the photos and sign a copyright agreement giving me ownership of the pictures.”

Steven's eyes widened for only a second before his glare returned. “You think I'm doing this for the money?”

“I'm well aware you think you are doing this to help Presley.” Dmitri leaned back in his seat, noticing Kyler's posture relax a smidgen, too. “I also know that money is a motivator here, since you aren't offering to publish the pictures for free.” He tapped his finger against the table. “I can top their offer. Name your price.”

“I don't want your money,” Steven spat out.

Dmitri studied this nothing of a man, more than done with this conversation. “You have two choices here. Only one is in your favor.” He raised one finger. “First choice. The pictures are printed, and then I will go after you with every resource I have. You'll be arrested for blackmailing me, and I'll bury you in lawsuits.” He lifted a second finger. “Second choice. You take my generous offer to purchase the pictures, sign the copyright over to me, and this gets put to rest. Those are the only two ways this is going to go.”

Steven stared at Dmitri for a long moment, the fight of refusal burning in the depths of his eyes, until his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “You're a fucking asshole.”

“I told you once, Steven, that Vegas is
my
city,” Dmitri said through gritted teeth. “You can threaten me, but I will never let you tarnish Presley's good name. You have thirty seconds to make a decision.” He gestured to Kyler, who watched the exchange, arms crossed over his chest. “Then I will make the decision for you.”

Clinks from the silverware on the dishes filled the room, as did low conversations coming from the tables around them. Dmitri focused on the darkness fluttering across Steven's face. He didn't have a way out. What Steven had done was classic blackmail, and Dmitri had enough proof to see the case through. Steven, while a foolish idiot, wasn't stupid.

As the seconds drew on Dmitri saw the acceptance wash over Steven's expression. “The magazine offered fifteen thousand for the group of pictures,” Steven snarled. “From you? I'd take nothing less than three hundred thousand.”

Dmitri wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and level Steven. Yet with his members' privacy on the line, with Presley's heart riding on this, it made his decision easy. “Final number?”

“Yes. Non-negotiable.”

Dmitri saw the doubt in Steven's eyes; he didn't believe Dmitri would pay that much money. And, maybe to some, it was absolutely ridiculous. But Dmitri had made promises to those in his club, and he couldn't live with himself if they were broken. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. “What's your bank and account number?”

At the ensuing silence, Dmitri lifted his head and found Steven staring with huge eyes, shock reflecting in their depths. “This is a business deal, Steven. I'm treating it as such. I have no time to piss around with you. Tell me the information so we can be done with it.”

Steven rattled off his bank information, and Dmitri wrote it on the back of his card. Once finished, he took out the copyright agreement from the envelope, handing it to Steven. “If you break this agreement, I will go after you for more money than you have, and bankruptcy will look like a great option when I'm done.” He arched a brow. “Do you understand?”