I swallow hard at her apology, not sure how I feel, but she’s not done.
“Adam steamrolled over me and I let him. I was a grown woman but I let him and fear of the board make me a doormat just like I always was for my father my whole life. And that’s my fault.”
She releases me and turns away.
“Anyway, I just wanted to finally say it out loud. I’m sorry I immediately fell back in old patterns. But the old mold doesn’t fit anymore. In a way, it never did. I feel stronger now. I didn’t know the world could be this…big. That my life could be so full of color. I feel like I’m starting to become the woman I was always supposed to be.” Her voice grows stronger as she moves through the greenhouse. I catch up to her at the door. Her head’s tipped back and the moonlight bathes her face. “And that’s all because of you.” The last words come out as a whisper but I hear them all the same.
“Come on,” I wrap my arms around her. I can’t help her words affecting me. She’s saying everything I want to hear. And though there’s a part of me that still clenched in suspicion of her playing me…the rest of me?
The rest of me just wants to hold my Daphne. Hold her close forever and never let her go.
“It’s late. You need sleep for tomorrow.”
“More torture?” she asks lightly.
I want to say no, but I can’t lie. Owning Daphne’s body is the only way to exorcise my demons. And if there’s a chance, even the slightest chance that this could all be real, that there could be a future for us…
“It’s okay,” she whispers, and snuggles against me as I carry her to bed. I tuck her in, careful of her piercings. I fuss as long as I can until there’s nothing left to do. But I can’t bring myself to leave. I slide my hand over the coverlet, smoothing it over and over again, feeling her warmth underneath.
“Lie with me?” she asks sleepily. She’s so beautiful, soft and warm in the bed, inviting and tempting like nothing else. It’s a bad idea, but I can’t refuse. I’m tired of fighting. There’s nothing else I want than to hold her close for hours.
“This isn’t a precedent,” I mutter as I slip in next to her. Her smooth legs tangle with mine and my boner tents the sheet. I grit my teeth, willing it to subside. I really do just want to hold her and I’m not sure I could deal with the intensity of fucking her again right now. If I started, I’m not sure I could stop. “I’m not doing this every night,” I growl churlishly.
She doesn’t acknowledge my warning. “You were the only one who could get me to sleep,” she reminds me, sighing happily and tucking her head under my chin. Her breathing evens out immediately, leaving me wondering if I’m living my nightmare or my best dream.
Twenty
Present Day
Daphne
The sun slants across my face and I stretch. Logan is gone—I didn’t expect he’d stay. That he held me last night so I could fall sleep is enough.
Last night felt…important. Like maybe a breakthrough of some kind? Even if only for me. It was important for me to officially apologize and acknowledge my responsibility for what happened. I can’t control what Logan believes. I can only control my actions and responses.
And I’m done being a doormat. For my father. For Logan. For anyone.
He left long instructions for my day. No more butt plugs, thank gods. My ass still feels stretched and sore—in the most delicious way.
I take his list of commands and head to the bathroom. Submitting sexually to Logan is different than being a doormat. I’m participating with him and there’s a willing exchange of control. It’s thrilling and life-giving.
When I look in the mirror, a beautiful, vibrant woman looks back, her eyes wide and soft and filled with satisfaction. No longer a mousy wallflower who thinks she should stay quiet in the background.
I arch my back and examine myself. My nipple piercings look good. The area is still a bit red, but no sign of infection. I perform the aftercare per Logan’s instructions and soak my breasts in a sea salt solution. Logan also left a can of saline wash with orders to mist my nipples several times a day. If I don’t, he says he’ll punish me and oversee the aftercare himself.
The threats make me smile. If he has his way, the piercings will heal perfectly, and I’ll always remember last night, his claim. He’s making sure he’s always a part of me.
Even if I take out the piercings, he’ll always be a part of me. Permanently. But then, he would have been without the piercings, anyway.
As I return to the bedroom, my phone chirps from the drawer I tossed it in. I’ve been ignoring it—sending Rachel the bare minimum of texts to keep her from calling the cops. Should I take a picture of my nipples and send it to her? I grin at the thought.
The phone screen tells me she’s called three times already this morning. I quickly sober. She’s probably not in the mood to hear about my sex life.
Time to face reality. I click the call button and wander to a seat by the fire. I’m naked but for a towel around my waist. Logan’s trained me to feel comfortable in the buff. Yet another thing for Rachel and I to giggle about during our next girl’s night.
Rachel picks up on the second ring. “Oh thank gods,” she gasps. “I have good news, and I have bad news.”
I rub my forehead. “Go ahead.”
“The good news is...Adam hasn’t bothered you these past few days.”
She’s right. He’s been quiet. Not a call, not even a text.
“What’s the bad news?”
“Well...the reason he’s not bothering you is he’s busy planning your engagement party.”
I almost drop the phone. “What?!” I start to pace. “Shit, Rachel, that is bad news.”
“Um, that’s not the bad news. I kinda might have promised him you’d be there. You know, at your own engagement party.”
I groan and collapse into a chair. A hoard of workmen have moved into my head, and they must be doing demolition, because my head is pounding.
“I know,” Rachel whispers. “I couldn’t stop him. I could only buy time. He’s left you alone because he thinks you’re resting up and getting ready for the ball.”
“A ball? You mean the engagement party?”
“He kinda invited everyone in Olympus. At least, everyone who matters.”
Meaning: the rich and famous and powerful. The jackhammering in my skull increases.
“The board?”
“Yep.”
“The donors?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Rachel agrees. “I couldn’t stop him. When I wouldn’t give him your location, he was going to track your cellphone and show up to surprise you.”
I clutch the phone. I am having a heart attack. There’s no other way to describe this tightness in my chest.
“Daphne?”
Breathe, just breathe.
“Okay, Rachel. Thank you. When is the ball?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Of course it is.” I can’t react with shock—I have no more to give. “Can you get a dress and stylist ready?”