I try to school my expression and not show the pain that’s squeezing my chest. Everything was perfect yesterday. I should be happy. I should be thrilled to tell her about Lucian. Instead all I can think about is the one moment this morning that was anything but alright.
“Dah?” Carla sounds concerned and my eyes snap to her, shutting down the negative thoughts. “Did he hurt you?” she barely breathes the words, fear evident in her eyes.
“No!” I’m quick to get that thought out of her head. I shake my head as I say, “No, no, it was… unbelievable.” She looks at me for a moment, taking in my expression and posture.
Taking a deep breath, I tell her everything about this past week, except that one moment early this morning.
Carla grins, her chest heaving, her breathing ragged. She doesn’t appear to notice my anxiety and seems to have gotten worked up over my tale. “I’m so glad you liked it. Sounds like Lucian really knows his stuff.” She shakes her head with wonder. “And you safe worded him and everything.”
“Is that bad?” I ask her in a hushed voice. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be perfect for him, but it was just too much. He said it was good though. I really believed him when he told me he wanted me to tell him if I was at my limit.
Carla shakes her head, her eyes shining with a hint of awe and says, “No, it’s good to know each other’s boundaries.”
Her words summon the image of Lucian spanking me, leaving red marks on my ass and my breathing quickens. That. That power. That control. It’s that which I crave above all else.
“My only problem is…” I snap my mouth shut, shocked at how close I came to thinking out loud. Holy fuck. How did I almost tell her? Is that even a boundary? I pick at my nails and look past her and out the window of my little office.
Carla eyes me curiously. “Your only problem is what?”
Her eyes on me force me to look back at her, my mind racing with excuses, unsure what to say. I shouldn’t tell her. But it’s right on the tip of my tongue. Maybe I should give her a chance and just tell her. She might understand.
But if she doesn’t? What then?
That thought alone scares me above all else, and it hardens my position. I’m not telling Carla shit.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head and flashing her a nervous smile. “It’s nothing really.”
Carla isn’t buying it. “C’mon,” she gestures with a manicured finger at me. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that. You have to tell me.”
“No,” I say firmly. “Really, it’s nothing.” Her ensuing scowl causes me to sigh and I say, “Fine. I was just going to say I wish it didn’t have to end in a month.” I’m surprised by how easily that lie came out.
Carla chuckles, and I’m filled with relief. She bought my lie. “Girl, with a man as good looking as Lucian, I don’t blame you.” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, which reminds me!” She watches her finger as she taps on the glass desktop. “Do you think Lucian will be bringing you to the club?” I don’t know how to respond. “I just think it would be good for you if you had time in the club, with other Subs and such.”
I freeze, caught off guard.
“Bruce did it for me,” she adds. She seems really nervous and I honestly feel the same way. He owns me. I don’t know what the rules are outside of the playroom.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly.
“Just ask him,” she says finally. “It’s just that, sometimes it’s easy to get sucked into a fantasy,” she says as her eyes flash with a sadness I’ve never seen. “And I don’t want you getting hurt.”
I stare back at her with a knot growing in the pit of my stomach and reply, “Trust me, I don’t want to get hurt either.”
Chapter 13
Lucian
I need to rein in my anger before I get home, but all I’m thinking about is taking this tension out on my sweet Dahlia. I know she must be sore from the past two weeks, but I’m not going to be able to hold back.
I need her.
Just the thought of sinking deep inside her makes me relax.
I’ve been dealing with one problem after another all day. I clench my teeth as I relive every tiresome phone call from public relations and my lawyer. My ex-wife. She had the nerve to laugh at me during our call. I know she just wanted to get under my skin. I tried to hide my irritation, but she knows she got to me. I let her in, and all she did was find my weaknesses. She wants to exploit them now. I imagine she’s run out of the small fortune she was awarded right around this time last year. It took over two years for our divorce to be finalized. She wouldn’t settle on a perfectly reasonable sum; she wouldn’t settle for anything other than everything.
And I bent over backward and gave it to her.
That was my mistake. Not the first, though. Marrying her was my first mistake. But giving her what she wanted only proved to her that she could get more.
But I won’t allow it.
The phone rings in my pocket, and I grit my teeth at the sound. My temples pound with each of the incessant rings.
I don’t want to answer it; I want to get home. To my treasure.
I breathe out deep and think, soon. Soon I’ll be lost inside of her. Where I belong.
I hit the small center button on my dashboard and lean back in my leather seat, twisting my hands around the steering wheel.
“Stone,” I answer smoothly. Never show emotion. I’ve learned better than to let them see they can affect me. Tricia is the perfect example of why I can never let them know how I feel. They call me ruthless, heartless. Well, they made me that way.
“Mr. Stone, it’s Jackson.” Jackson Harris, my lawyer. “We have a situation.” I cringe at the ease in his voice. He doesn’t have a situation. He gets paid regardless. If my ex could afford him, he’d be on her team right now. He’s not loyal to me. Neither is my PR team, but I’ll pay them whatever they need to get this shit dealt with.
“And that is?” I ask as though I don’t already know. Tricia’s been harassing the office, calling me nonstop. I’ve gotten her message, but apparently she hasn’t received mine.
“Tricia’s refuting the legitimacy of the NDA.”
I let his words sink in. During our divorce, she agreed to sign the NDA and legally cannot discuss any matters pertaining to our relationship during any period of time, married or otherwise. “I fail to see how that’s an issue. She’s contractually-”
He cuts me off, “She can refute it, although she has no footing.”
“Then how is this a problem?”
“I’ve received several calls from Andrea, and it is apparent that Tricia has reached out to several editorials and is taking bids for her story.” My blood runs cold as I drive down the highway. My heart pumps harder in my chest and I try to focus and not be consumed with the anger that’s barely contained.
Her story. As though she’s anything other than a gold digger. I gave her everything, and the moment she found someone else, she left me. She thought she had it made with me. But I worked too much. Always bitching that I needed to make more, but be home more. She was impossible to please.