Read Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) Online
Authors: Erica Chilson
Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (61 page)
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Checkmate
Book 3
Of
Queen
Mistress of Restraint
Checkmate
Time
frame of Restraint through Dalton
Chapter One
“Why are you antsy?” Ella asks from her seat on the couch.
I anxiously pace in front of my family. I make a circuit from the sofa to the front door and back while my phone angrily buzzes every few moments. I had to turn it down to vibrate. The whistling was driving me batshit.
“It’s a surprise,” I chirp. I flash them all a toothy-smile.
My erratic behavior was enough to pull a skittish Kristal past the French-door’s threshold. I want to skin her alive, but Roman’s with her. I’ll enact my revenge later at Restraint. She’ll wish I didn’t have time to plan and stew.
Kristal and Roman cuddle on one side of the U-shaped sectional. Fate’s graciously giving manicures to Ella and Ade. Only two people on that sofa aren’t on my shit-list- my daughter, Ella, and my submissive, Fate. Ade is a two-faced bitch. I love her, but now I know I can never trust her. I knew her Master was an issue, but I never thought in a million years she’d tell her father, that rat-bastard, about Ella. There are too many reasons why I want to harm Kristal, just thinking of her makes my stomach twist. Roman’s being a pussy. I’m not mad at him. I’m just waiting for him to grow a set of balls.
“What’s that buzzing?” Ade asks in annoyance.
She’s annoyed? I’m the one with a vibrating ass-cheek.
I wiggle my phone and quickly slide it open.
- What? I’m busy!
Jamie
: Did you do it?
-Do what?
Jamie
: You know what I am fucking asking!!!
- Ah- why not text me from your number so I don’t have to think Jamie’s suffering from Turret’s Syndrome.
Master of the Universe:
Answer. The. Question.
- Nah- I don’t think I will. I’m busy. I’ll call you later, unless that
would be too personal for you.
Master of the Universe:
Either call me or I’m coming over there and beating your ass bloody. You have two hours.
- Master?
Master of the Universe:
Yes, Regina?
- I’ll do anything to protect us. Never doubt that. I’ll call. Don’t be impatient. I have something very important to do. Okay?
Master of the Universe:
I’ll wait, but it’s very unpleasant for Cortez. Two hours- call or I will take twelve hours of frustration out on you…
“Shit!” I hiss as my phone disappears int
o the back-pocket of my jeans.
“Did you do it?” Ade asks and I jump guiltily.
“What?” I play innocent.
“We went away for a reason. Initiation,” Ade draws out the word like I’m an idiot for not understanding her the first time.
Oh, I guiltily thought she was asking what Marcus wanted to know- did I fuck Whitt.
“Yeah, I did. I… I-” I’m saved by the knock on the door.
I hop in place and silently squeal. Everyone looks at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. I smile blazingly at them and they wince. Yeah, I’m never happy, let alone thrilled. I’m sure they’re mentally booking me a one-way trip to WinterCrest.
“Surprise,” I say excitedly.
I fling the door open because I can’t wait a second longer. My nearly fourteen-year-old son is on the other side of the door. I haven’t seen him in nine years.
Whitt stands behind him with his hands on Niel’s shoulders. I want to run up and engulf him in a hug, but I don’t want to frighten him. His green eyes, exactly like mine, glisten with tears. His full lips, like his father’s, quiver as he tries not to cry. I drink in every aspect of his appearance and catalog it into categories- Grant, Me, Ella, and Whitt. I see each of us in him. I know him because he’s a part of me.
My heart achingly pounds inside of my chest. My palms sweat as my fingers clench and loosen. It takes everything in me not to lunge forward and touch him.
“HI!” I chirp.
“Hi,” Whitt’s voice interrupts my examination of Niel. “I’ll give you both a moment out here alone.”
He moves past my son, who’s frozen into place and looking at me with haunti
ng eyes and a quivering mouth.
Whitt breathes into my ear, “Wife,” and softly kisses me just below the ear.
I try to stifle the tremor that betrays my body’s reaction to my husband. I flush for so many reasons that I don’t want to examine too closely and Whitt chuckles at me. He likes that I turn into a bashful girl around him. I think I’m the only one who’s met the true Daniel Whittenhower II. If you had, you’d tremor too.
“Ladies,” his politely greets everyone in the living room.
“Gentleman,” he says to Roman.
“What are you doing here?” Ade asks in a panic
.
“No worries, sister. Ella, come give me a
hug,” he charmingly commands.
I turn to watch but he pushes the door shut.
“Hi,” I say again.
I slump down to the porch and sit on the top step. Niel’s a few feet away on the sidewalk. He’d backed up when Whitt walked into the house. I don’t blame him. It reminds me of me when I met Marc a
nd I kept trying to back away.
“I’m glad you came. I’d understand if you hate me. I hate me, too,” I whisper to him.
A tear hits my arm. I hadn’t known I was crying.
My son’s big for his age- tall, brawny, and he already has reddish-blond peach fuzz on his cheeks. He’s so unlike his father, who was slightly feminine. He’s just like me- hearty. I watch as his thick forearms cord as he clenches his fists. Is he angry at me, or is
he trying not to touch me too?
“Do you work out? I was mature for my age, too.” I try to sound calming and not betray my eagerness to hear his voice.
“Yeah,” he says shyly.
Jesus, his voice is just like his father’s- soft and calming, a little deep with a rasp at the end. It’s at complete odds with his appearance. He looks like he could break you into two, but his demeanor and tone would have you thank him while you cried.
“Grandfather doesn’t approve, but if I don’t lift, I get into trouble.” He smoothly flows to the sidewalk and sits crossed-legged in front of me.
“We all need an outlet for our emotions,” I say bashfully.
My eyes study every inch of him while we chat. His eyes are doing the same to me.
“What do you do?” He blushes and looks at his hands.
Ah- he’s adorable. The rough-and-tumble mixed with Grant’s demeanor will draw woman like flies.
“I work. I just recently found out swimming helps. I know you like to write. Grant- your dad, he was a writer. I never had the pleasure of reading his words, but I’m sure they were incredible. Do you remember us?” I ask quickly before I can change my mind.
“Yeah,” he shakes his head and his out-of-control hair falls into his eyes. He brushes it away, but doesn’t seem annoyed by it.
“I remember you both. Whitt wouldn’t let me forget anything, even if I wanted to.” He pauses and shuffles a couple feet closer. “I didn’t want to forget. I wrote everything
down that I remembered and I add to it when something pops into my head.”
“I remember everything, too, even when it hurts to remember.” I whisper to him.
I close my eyes for a moment and try to push the pain of the past away. I feel a tentative touch on my bare foot. I open my arms for him and wait for rejection.
He flies into my arms and his weight pushes the wooden riser into my back. It’ll bruise, but it will be worth it. I squeeze him tightly, marveling at how big he is- solid, firm, and in my arms. He has to weigh almost as much as I do. I inhale his scent. He doesn’t smell as I remember. He’s no longer a child. The manly aroma makes me simultaneously feel sad and proud.
My hand seeks his hair. It feels just like mine- wiry. It’s blond with reddish highlights. My father’s hair was red. My father lives on inside my son, just as Grant does.
We don’t speak. We mutually weep and hold on tightly. His tears dampen my t-shirt. He hiccups and breathes deeply. I rock him and pat his hair in a gesture that’s as natural as breathing- a gesture that he felt for the first four years of his life.
A hand brushes my hair back. I hadn’t heard Whitt come onto the porch since I was so absorbed with my son.
“I thought maybe Niel would like to meet his sister. I closed the door so we have privacy,” Whitt says softly not wanting to ruin our moment.
He helps Niel and me stand. We both wobble on shaky legs from sitting in an awkward position for so long.
I glance back at my daughter. She’s big for her age, too. She’s almost ten and she’s starting to
pudge out as her hormones prepare her for womanhood. She won’t look like me at all. She’ll be small and curvy. Her clear blue eyes water as she finally sees her brothers in the flesh. Her tiny bottom lip quivers just as her brother’s does. It’s so precious that I can’t help but smile.
They awkwardly stare at each other. They look so much alike and so very different at the same time, but no one would ever doubt that they’re siblings. I glance at Whitt- yeah… they wouldn’t doubt him
being the big brother either.
I’ve never been so proud in my life. My entire family is standing on my porch, together for the very first time in our lives. I’m overcome with emotions I can’t name. I want to laugh, cry, and rejoice. I feel faint as if this isn’t reality. If it’s not, I don’t ever want to wake up.
I look Whitt in the eyes and his lips twitch until his cheeks dent. He quickly wipes a stray tear away and extends his hand for me to take. I take what he offers- strength and support- and hold on for dear life. We stand hand-in-hand as Niel and Ella mirror each other.
They both shuffle on their feet unsurely, wide-eyed, and trembling.
“Hey,” Niel juts his hand out to shake.
I laugh under my breath. You don’t greet a nine-year-old like that in the world Ella’s grown up in, but you do if you’re a Whittenhower. She looks at it in confusion, scrunching her tiny blonde brows.
Whitt smacks Niel upside the head and says, “Hug her, idiot.”