The Art of Control (23 page)

I don’t know what my future will hold or where I’
ll go from here and frankly, I don’t care about what happens to me. All that matters is that now and forever,
the love of my life will be safe without me.

Dylan

It’s been two damn weeks without a word from Isa. I can’t even focus on daily tasks and physical therapy is here again to pester me. I just want this nightmare to be over with and my body to be back to normal. Out of habit, I dial her number only to hear the dreaded pinging notification that her voicemail is full. I’ve GPS’d her ass at least 100 times and still, she remains at The Carriage Hotel. She’s hardly stepped foot outside and I can only imagine the pain she’s going through.

Fuck that.
Fuck her.
What about the pain I’m going through? She promised she would never leave me and the first sign of trouble she tucks tail and runs off like a selfish little bitch. After the special time we spent together on our honeymoon, after our time bonding, after I gave her complete control, after being marked for me –
she fucking leaves
? What kind of bullshit is that?

Tired of feeling sorry for myself, I decide if Isa doesn’t come back in one more week, I’ll file for an annulment. My stomach churns at the thought and my heart sinks. Can I really be thinking about this? She left me.
She fucking left me
. We took legal and binding vows of for better or worse and she left. Yes, annulment is the only option.
Fuck her.
I dial her number again with the same results. Fuck everything. I’m not waiting another week. She’s really not coming back.

I speed dial my
lawyer’s office before I have a chance to rethink my decision and have them draw up the papers.

***

This is my last day in this God forsaken place. If another nurse bats her eyelashes at me and asks why Isa hasn’t been to visit, I’m going to seriously fucking lose it and it won’t be pretty.

“Mr. Young, here are your dismissal papers. Just sign here. Will your wife be joi
ning you?”

Motherfucker.
“Does it look like she’ll be joining me? She hasn’t been here in three fucking weeks. Thank you for reminding me… Christ,” I snap.

The nurse looks wounded
and her cheeks burn bright red.

“No
she won’t, but thank you. Just leave the papers here and I’ll bring them out to you,” Sawyer interjects. “What happened to Dylan Young, cool and collected entrepreneur? Mr. Politically Correct?” Sawyer asks sarcastically.

“I’
m not in the mood for your shitty brand of humor, Morrison. Just get me the fuck out of here.”

Sawyer sighs loudly and sh
akes his head at me, “Yes, Sir.”

To my utter dis
gust, upon leaving the hospital we’re met by camera flashes and reporters shoving their phallic-shaped microphones in my face asking me about everything from the videos to the plane crash to Isa’s sudden absence. My patience has been worn dangerously thin and I contemplate ways to bash the skulls of these intrusive assholes in my face.

Ju
st in the nick of time and before I dislocate somebody’s nose, Sawyer attempts to push me into the back seat of the Rover but I climb into the front seat instead.

“I need go somewher
e, so you and Raul drive yourselves back to my place,” I tell Sawyer.

He looks at me dubiously, mulling over my order.

“What’s the fucking problem? Did that sound like it was a request?” I ask loudly.

He throws his hand
s up and huffs at me as he climbs out. Moving into the driver’s seat, I drive away quickly, tires screeching. Now it’s time to pay the future ex-Mrs. Young a visit. My heart starts beating rapidly in my chest thinking about seeing
her
again. 

I pull up outside The Carriage and reach
into my satchel and dig out the envelope that my lawyers brought over. Nausea slowly creeps up on me. Am I really going through with this? I love her, there’s no denying it. Yes, I still fucking love that selfish bitch; I always will. But she left me when I was most vulnerable and I’ll never forgive her for that –
never.
So fuck her.

I GPS her phone one last time to make sure she
’s where she should be and sure enough, she’s still hiding out like a little chicken shit in her hotel room.

I ask the front desk for a key and without a second thought, they oblige.
At
her
door, I start to hyperventilate and almost run the other way. What happened to my balls? I used to have a pair. Oh yeah, Erika and my future ex stripped me of them. Never again. Not ever fucking again! I’ve had it with this shit. From here on out, no more long-term relationships. No more commitments. The only thing I’ll be indulging myself in is meaningless sex and subs by the hour. I cringe at the thought of being with anyone else but
her
.

I
call out to my inner Dom, slide the card into the slot, throw the door open and march into the room. Selfish Bitch is sitting on the bed hugging a pillow. Christ she looks beau… fuck that.
Fuck her.
She looks mortified and stands quickly.

“Master…”

“Don’t you dare call me that. It’s Mr. Young to you,” I say clipped and narrowing my eyes at her. “Why are you still wearing that?” I ask, pointing to her collar.

Her eyes flash
dejection and her bottom lip begins to shake. She’s bone thin and looks like she’s in serious need of a double bacon cheeseburger and milkshake with extra heavy whipped cream, but still, those eyes...
God damn it, focus, Young
.

I throw the envelope at her and it lands on the bed next to her.

“Sign them.”

“What
is it?” she asks, touching it hesitantly.

“Annulment papers.
It’s over.”

“Oh, Sir.
I…” she whimpers.

“Don’t.
I told you to call me Mr. Young. You left, what else did you expect - for me to wait around for you like a heartbroken little bitch?” I yell.

Calm down, Young.
I take a deep breath and count down from ten.

“Do you want to punish me?” she asks, throwing me into a tailspin.

Of course I want to punish her. She knows that. She deserves it. Why the fuck is she asking me this? “What do you think?” I reply.

“I think I deserve much worse than anything you could ever do to me,” she sniffs, looking down at the floor and twirling her hair between her fingers.

Fuck that. No, no. Focus. Focus. Focus.
  “You have no idea the pain I want to inflict on you after what you’ve put me through, so I doubt there is much worse than what I could imagine,” I snarl.

“Then do it,” she says
bleakly.

“You sel
fish little bitch. You left me when I needed you the most and you think by allowing me to punish you that I’ll forgive you?”

She gasps and sinks onto the bed. “No,
Mas… Mr. Young, I know you’ll never forgive me.”

“I guess you’re smarter than I thought because you’
re right - I never will.
Never.
How could you? I marked myself for you. I gave you everything, my heart and soul and you annihilated them. I gave you my submission.
I gave you complete control over me.
You promised me…” I shut my mouth swiftly, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of hearing my anguish that’s threatening to spill out of me.

“
I deserve whatever you give me, no matter how harsh, so do it already and let’s be done with this,” she says resolutely, standing and stripping down to nothing.

Jesus, h
er body isn’t what it used to be. Her gorgeous curves are no more and her face is framed by large, dark circles under her eyes, but still,
those stunning fucking eyes
. They’ll haunt me forever. She needs to hurt like I’ve been hurt. I want her to feel the pain of abandonment like I did. Christ, she already knows that kind of torment. God damn it, she has to pay for leaving me so I’ll punish her callously and heartlessly the only way I can think of.

“Present yourself for punishment,” I
bark at her.

As she
lowers herself to the floor, I unbuckle my belt and start to remove it. Her luminous eyes round and well up, her bottom lip trembling in fear. She swallows hard and for a moment I think she’s going to back out, but to my shock and horror, she presents herself perfectly in front of me, her arms splayed out, her forehead pressed to the floor.

I’m so confused right now.
God help me, I love her
. I loop the buckle around my hand tightly and step back to allow myself room to wield the leather effectively. I take a deep breath and steady myself, and try to fight my way through my clouded judgment.

“Count it out,”
I whisper, almost breaching my cold exterior.

“Yes, Mr. Young,” she cries.

I bring the belt up and stop with my hand raised as she recoils in anticipation of the strike. The image of an abused Isa as a child invades my mind.
No, I can’t do this.
She’s ruined me, but I could never do to her what her father did.
Not ever.
She deserves to be punished, but not like this.
I love her so much.
Dropping the belt to the floor, she looks up at me bewildered and with tears streaming down her blanched cheeks.

I’ll break
her the only other way I know how, with my words. “You’re not worth the effort,” I tell her cruelly.

She sits up on her knees and says the thing that makes me completely withdraw from her.

“You’re right and we’re better off apart.” Her mouth moves convincingly, but her sad and glassy eyes say something altogether different. I’m tired of trying to decipher her meaning and I’m sick of all this drama. I don’t need this shit. I’m done.

“
Yes, we are. Sign the fucking papers. I’ll send Sawyer to get them,” I reply, walking towards the door and leaving my beautiful and fragile pussycat naked and alone.

I stumble to the Rover, dizzy and nauseous,
and vomit just as I reach the door. At that moment, the light snow turns to rain, and it’s as if the sky has opened up and released my sorrow. I finally break down, my tears camouflaged by the downpour and my mind reeling.
It’s really fucking over.

***

Isabel

The door closes and the only sound
in the room is my pathetic sniveling. My loving husband is gone forever.
I hate my father.
God, please… if you’re real, take him out of this world brutally. Make him suffer for the way he hurt my mother, for the things he did and said to me, and for what he’s done to my beautiful Master.

I curl up naked into a ball o
n the floor and rock myself, trying to push everything to the back of my mind, but there’s no more room for the wretched and miserable thoughts - all of the available space is gone. Every spiteful word my father every spoke to me and all the things he did to me come flooding back and I scream in silence.
No
, I’m not worth the effort. Emotional exhaustion overtakes me and mercifully, sleep finds me.

My dreams are tormented with Dylan’s sweet words of
devotion and compassion; his touch can be felt, his caresses and kisses, his nicknames whispered in my ear lovingly.

I wake crying again, thinking about
how he allowed me the one thing I’ve sought my entire life,
control.
My body is cold and I’m shivering, but I can’t bring myself to rise from the floor.
What time is it?
The sun is almost set, the lighting in the room gloomy. My stomach rumbles ferociously but the thought of food nauseates me.

T
he door opens and for a short-lived moment, my heart skips a beat.
My Master has come back for me
… I look up and Sawyer is standing over me, holding his hand out to me. I reach up, wanting the warm touch of another human being. He lifts me into his strong arms and carries me to the bed, his clean soapy smell infiltrating my thoughts and comforting me. He lays me down and covers me and pushes my hair back from my face. Ashamed of my state of despair, I hide in the pillow.

“Isabel, you’re a mess. What happened here?”

“I’ll sign the papers,” I say, sitting up, not wanting to discuss the horrible scene that played out hours ago.

I reach for the envelope and Sawyer takes it from my hands. “What papers?” he asks. “What the hell?” he says, scanning them.

“Oh, God, Sawyer, it’s really over.”

“What did Young say to you?”

“That I’m not worth the effort,” I cry.

“
He said that to you?” he replies irritably.

“
Yes and he’s right. After what I’ve done to him, I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve your kindness either or anyone else’s.”

I grab the pen from
the nightstand and quickly begin to sign the papers, not reading them.

“Isabel, don’t sign those yet. Please, don’t do that,” Sawyer
implores, trying to grab the papers from my hands. Holding on to them determinedly, I sign the last page and hand them over. I suck back my tears and concentrate on what I must do next.