The Art of Control (26 page)

“You came a long way for nothing,” she says
through dry, chapped lips, her facial expression emotionless.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m standing here peering into the most
stunning eyes on the face of this planet, aren’t I?”

“I can’t go back with you,” she states firmly.

“You
can’t
or you
won’t
?”

“What difference does it make? I’m
not
and that’s all that matters,” she replies, pushing her shoulders back and standing a little straighter.

She’s pretending to be strong, but her eyes
always reveal her true emotions.

“Your
eyes tell me everything I need to know, love.”

“Don’t call me that. I
t’s Ms. Ibanez to you,” she counters, making me wince from the coldness in her voice.

“You’re mistaken,” I
answer back. She gives me a puzzled look, so I clarify. “You’re Mrs. Young, not Ms. Ibanez.”

Her eyebrows pull
together and her mouth parts as she takes in a deep breath, her eyes scanning my face.

“I never signed the papers.”

She swallows hard and frowns. “You should have.”

“You don’t mean that.”
God, I hope she doesn’t mean that.

“Yes, I do.”

She sounds determined, and I can’t help but look down at her fisted hands at her sides and her tensed body. She shifts when my eyes scan her curvaceous figure. When she moves, the sun glints against her wedding ring, almost blinding me from its sheer brightness.

“
If you really mean that, then why are you still wearing your wedding ring?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She looks down at it possessively and covers it with her other hand protectively.

“It’s mine. You said I could keep it,” she murmurs in a childlike voice.

“Yes
…”

She quickly cuts me off and starts removing it hesitantly.

“If you want it back, you can have it.”

I clasp my hand over hers
to stop her from taking it off and ghost my fingertips upwards over her arm. “Stop, Isa. I don’t want it back. It belongs to you.”

She
grimaces and pulls away from me abruptly.

“Cayenne!” she cries out
and several people look over at us questioningly.

“What the fuck
, Isa?” I ask, moving away from her.

“Please don’t
touch me,” she croaks out, her eyes filling with tears.

“Pussycat
…” I plead, reaching out to her again.

“No!
Don’t call me that and don’t touch me. I called my safeword,
you can’t!
” she starts to cry, her face contorting pitifully.

Anger fills my senses. “Who hurt you?” I ask, backing away from her
further and giving her the space that she needs.

She shakes her head, “No one hurt me.
You just can’t touch me. I can’t allow it. I’ve been without you for so long and knowing that I can’t have you has been unbearable. Don’t you understand? Your touch is like a drug to me and I can’t have just one hit without going into relapse. It’s taken me a long time to accept that I’ll never be with you again, but I have accepted it,” she sniffs.

“
You’ve accepted it?
Well, I haven’t accepted anything and I never will. Not fucking ever. You’ve wrecked me!” I say loudly.

“
Yeah, sure. I saw just how
wrecked
you were – well-groomed in your Dolce & Gabbana suit and with a woman on your arm,” she retorts, wiping her tears.

“
What are you talking about?”

“I saw the
pictures of you. You’ve been a real mess, haven’t you? Selling my paintings and replacing me with another blonde,” she sulks.

“It wasn’t
like that. I can explain…”

She swiftly interjects, not letting me get another word in. “I don’t want an explanation. I’m glad you’ve moved on.”

I snort laugh at her. “Really? Because your eyes and body language are telling me something completely different.”

“You’re
imagining things,” she lies.

“You’re going to stand
here and tell me that you want me to be with another woman?”

“Yes, I want you to be happy;
I want you to find love,” she replies and this time, there is truth in her statement.

“
I already found love with you. If I leave here today without you, I won’t ever be with another woman for love - I’ll be with her for my sexual needs only,” I tell her, trying to elicit a response from her. She blinks rapidly and looks stunned, but remains quiet. “Is that what you want? For me to collar another sub? For me to do to another woman the things I’ve done to you?”

Isa’s eyes move away from me, scanning the street
fretfully and not answering me.

“You want me to find another Mistress?” I ask an
d at that moment, her eyes shoot back to me and flash irritation, and my true Isa comes shining through.

“
You’ll never find another Mistress like me. I am one of a kind. You may find someone more attractive, thinner and more talented than me, but I know within my heart of hearts, you’ll never find someone who will love you more,” she voices defiantly, narrowing her heated eyes at me.

I can’t help but
grin because she’s right - there is no other woman like Isabel or whom I want to call Mistress, and there sure as hell isn’t anyone more talented and beautiful than she is. Her eyes move to my mouth, her cheeks brighten up and she shakes her head as if regretting her statement.

“I can’t go back with you,” she says
softly. “I mean it. I can’t and I won’t. You made a big mistake by coming here.”

My heart rate spikes. She looks determin
ed and my hands begin to shake at the thought of being without her again. Maybe this is what she really wants. Maybe her father had nothing to do with this.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“If you truly want me to leave and forget about you, then you tell me
right now that you don’t love me. You tell me that what we had meant nothing to you. If you can say those words to me, I’ll walk away from you and never look back,” I force myself to say as my voice cracks, even though I know I’m lying to myself and Isa.

Isa’s eyes well up again and she chews on her bottom lip uneasily as she mulls over my words.

Please don’t say the words. Please, please, don’t…

Her mouth opens and my heart sinks.

“I don’t…”

I clamp my hand over her mouth harshly. “Don’t you
dare say it!” I snap at her, inches away from her face.

Isa pulls away from
me and looks offended. “I wasn’t going to say it. I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I was going to say I don’t want to lie to you again; once was more than enough.

“Again?”

She instantly shuts down and looks away from me.

“What’s the most important thing about being in a D/s relationship?” I ask.

She looks up at me and answers, “Honesty, but I’m not your submissive anymore,” she counters, making me cringe.

“
Have you found someone else?” I ask, the knot in my stomach twisting and churning, the bile rising in my throat.

“Don’t be absurd. Just as there is no other Mistress for you, there is no other Master for me,” she states very plainly.

Relief sweeps over me, making me dizzy. “Isabel, you’ll always be my submissive.
Always.
I’m not leaving here without you.
I’m not
and if you persist with this, I swear to fucking almighty I’ll move my business headquarters here.”

“You wouldn’t really do that,” she huffs.

“Do you doubt my resolve?”

Her eyes move up and down my body, her tongue slicking acr
oss her lips, making my cock twitch.

“
Do what you want, but I can’t go back with you and if you’re foolish enough to move your business here, then I’ll just relocate somewhere else,” she states stubbornly.

“I told you there was no distance I wouldn’t go to get you back if you left me.
I’ve already come halfway around the world for you, so you can run and hide all you want, but I’ll always find you no matter how long it takes. Let me be very clear about something, Isabel: I’m never letting you go again.”

She furrows her eyebrows at m
e and pouts her mouth. “You think I ran from you?”

“You’re living
in Chilé for Christ sake; what would you call it?”
Come to think of it…
“How did you get here?”

She nervously looks around and her hand moves to her hair. I make the mistake of reaching
out to her again and she begins to cry.

“Please, sugar, stop touching me. You promised you would always abide by my safeword. Just go.
Please
…”

“What the hell is going on?
If you didn’t run from me, then what? And how?”

“You’re safe now, that’s all that matters,” she chokes out and quickly pinches her mouth closed.

Her fucking father - I had almost forgotten. The words she spoke in Paris come back to me;
I would do anything to protect you from my father. Anything.

“What did your father do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t mean what I said. I can’t go back with you and that’s all there is to it. You have to leave now.”

She turns away from me, but
I grab her brusquely and pull her into my arms.

“This will be the
only
time I won’t respect your safeword, but I’m not letting you go, so don’t ask me to.” Tears stream down my cheeks and for the first time in my life, I don’t give a fuck who sees me cry.

“You said I wasn’t worth the effort,” she weeps into my chest.

“I swear to God I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to hurt you.”

“Well you did, but I deserved it for leaving you;
I deserved much worse. No!” she says abruptly, jerking away from me and out of my arms.

“You have to leave. I can’t go back with yo
u. Go, Mr. Young, just go,” she says unwavering and pointing towards the street.

“I’m
not going and that’s the end of this discussion. And don’t call me Mr. Young.”

“
You stubborn ass, he’ll kill you,” she rebukes irritably.

“That son-of-a-bitch c
an try,” I blurt out and before the last word leaves my lips, Isa’s palm comes across my face, bringing back fond memories. I smile like a stupid fool and Isa looks aghast at my reaction.

“
I told you not to tempt fate! And why the hell are you smiling?”

“Because I love it when you get all Domme on me.”

“Holy… holy… I can’t even think right now,” she stammers out.

“Holy shit?
Holy insanity? Holy infantile tantrum?” I reply, trying to recall all of the holy’s that have been uttered from her sexy mouth.

A barely visible
smile creeps onto her face and for the first time in three months, I feel complete again.

“Dylan, I can’t
go back with you,” she repeats, but this time with less conviction. “He came so close to killing you. I can’t lose you like that. I’d rather be alone and miserable than know I’m the reason for your death. I’d rather know you are happy and being loved by someone else, no matter how devastating it would be for me, than to put you in harm’s way again. Please, sugar,
please…
don’t put me in that position,” she whimpers, her somber look returning,

“Simons never came that close to killing me, Isa,” I snort.

“You ignorant genius, don’t you know? The plane crash, that was my father, too.”

***

Isabel

Dylan’s body language instantly changes. I thought he knew this little bit of information but it’
s obvious he didn’t and now I regret having said it. Oh, hell. Simons is probably still somewhere lurking around. He usually is. I glance around nervously, half expecting to see him peeking around the corner, just waiting to rat me out to my father.

Instead of seeing the white hair of Simons, Sawyer is seen standing just several feet away, watching me and Dylan’s exchange. My heart
warms and I instantly feel better knowing that he’ll keep a close eye on my Master. I mean, Dylan. Damn it. I need to stop thinking like that.
He’s safer now without me
.  I can’t go back with him. I want to;
God, I want to.
He’s so beautiful and his eyes… they’re so blue right now. His cheeks are still wet from his tears. How can I be so cruel to deny him? My father will kill him, that’s how.