“Shower,” she mumbles as I put her down on the mattress.
“Tomorrow.” I lie down beside her and pull her to my side.
She nestles closer. “Where were you?”
“Looking for Dalton.”
Her body tenses. “Did you find him?”
“No, but I will.”
She utters a little sigh of surrender, wisely knowing she can’t stop me. “Next time tell me. Please, Damian. I mean it.”
I kiss her nose. “What woke you?”
“Nightmare.”
“You’re still having those?”
“Sometimes.”
“You never told me what your dreams are about.”
“Mostly what happened with Jack.”
I drag her thigh over mine, getting as close as I can. “Why did you agree to marry Clarke?”
Two seconds tick past before she answers. “He seemed nice. He was kind to me before we got married. He was my ticket to freedom. I just wanted to get out of Harold’s house, and I had no money or job.”
“Maybe you should talk to Reyno about your nightmares.” The unethical fucker actually did a good job on weaning her off her fear of closed doors.
“I will.”
“You’re safe with me, Lina.” I hug her tighter. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”
This time, her sigh is a sound between happy and sad. “I know.”
I know, too. She’s not entirely happy. Not all the lust in the world can change the fact that she’s still my prisoner. Only, this time round, she’s a willing prisoner.
Lina
During the days that follow, Damian is exceptionally tender with me, especially during our intimate moments. He takes care of my each and every need. He makes sure I eat enough healthy meals, and that I see Reyno twice a week. Telling Damian about my baby has reopened an old wound. I can’t go a day without thinking about it. I start dreaming about it more frequently again. Twice already, Damian caught me paging through baby catalogues. Wherever I go, I see babies. I seem to only notice strollers, bottles, and little bundles wrapped up in blankets.
Reyno and I talk about it. We talk about the grieving process and letting go. We talk about my conflicting feelings for my husband who imprisons me by lust and marriage. Mostly, we talk about the disempowerment I felt at Damian’s punishment, my escape, the kidnapping, and my tattoo, but we refrain from bringing up the murders. We pretend the terrible cost of saving my life disappeared with a part of my memory. Denial isn’t a healthy way for a psychiatrist to approach treatment, but we both know who saved me. Not even client confidentiality is enough protection for Reyno. He’s safer not having my confession.
The next time Damian takes me to the gym, I learn from the girls in the change room Phil lost his finger in an accident with a kitchen knife and asked to be transferred to the Germiston branch. I suppose I should be thankful he’s not dead. It’s the fear for his life that prevents me from asking Damian about the incident. I don’t want to stir Damian’s ire. Best let sleeping dogs lie.
The skin Damian broke is healing, but the bruises are far from gone. Damian tends to them morning and night, rubbing soothing lotions and tissue oil into the marks to prevent scarring, but there’s no medicine for the scarring of my heart. I made my decision. I’m living with it. I came clean about Jack and my baby, baring my shame and most private grief to Damian, but there are two secrets I still keep, my job and my love for my captor. I don’t tell him about working for Reyno. Without that small notion of independence, I’d genuinely go insane. It’s because of the powerlessness I bring up in every session with Reyno that I keep the knowledge of my feelings to myself.
To tell Damian how I feel would lay down the last of the power I have left. I lock it away in the shadows of my soul, because my love belongs to the darker side of life. My love for Damian is like the black diamond etched on my shoulder, dark, pure, and indestructible. There are times I catch him looking at me as if he knows my secret, but if he does, he grants me the mercy of feigned ignorance. In turn, I give him my obedience, doing everything he asks of me, which includes taking over some of the food shopping and cooking duties. As if driving a point home, he tries hard to make a housewife out of me.
The house is too big for us. We don’t need Jana to cook just for Damian and me. Her attitude toward me has turned from cool to quietly judgmental. How can I blame her? When you live the normal life of a law-abiding citizen, the lines between good and bad are clear-cut. It doesn’t surprise me when she resigns to accept a partnership with a restaurant owner. Neither does it surprise me when Damian announces he’d like to move. He’s brought it up before. Putting the responsibility on my shoulders, however, catches me off-guard.
We’re having breakfast outside on the terrace when he announces the news. “I want you to start looking for a house.”
I put down my coffee cup. “Me?”
“I never took to this place, and I have a feeling neither have you.”
“Not really.”
He grins. “It’s old and stuffy, right?”
“Right.”
“I want a place that’s ours, a place where we can make our own memories.”
The intensity of his declaration makes me shift in my seat. “What do you want?”
“Whatever will make you happy.”
“Really?”
“I’ll be spending an increasing amount of time at the office. You’ll be at the house more than me.”
Playing with my napkin, I digest the kindness of his offer. I can’t say he’s not trying. “Thank you.”
“It’s only normal.” He cups my hand, stilling my fiddling. Then he smiles, trying hard for this to seem like a normal conversation. “What does your dream house look like?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You’ve never dreamt about a place where you’d like to live and grow old?”
“No.”
“If you could have anything, what would you choose?”
I look at the distance where the grass polls are starting to dry. Winter will be here soon. “I always thought it’s nice to live on the water.”
“As in a boat?” he asks with surprise.
“As in on a shore, next to a river or dam.”
“There’s the Hartbeespoort Dam.”
“It’s far from your office.”
“Only an hour’s drive or so.”
“You’ll be stuck in peak hour traffic.”
He shrugs, as if the sacrifice won’t matter. “Call a few agents today. Take Brink with you if you go out to visit properties.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me the choice in all the decisions he can, from what we eat to where we live, to compensate for the loss of the decisions I’m not allowed to make, the ones that need financial freedom and legal sanity.
“Wouldn’t that please you?” he asks gently.
“Of course.” I force a smile. “I’ll call today.”
Inexplicable emotions clog up my throat. His offer makes me both happy and sad. It makes me happy because he’s trying so hard, and sad because he has to try at all. If he granted me my basic human rights, he wouldn’t have to work so hard at making up for taking them away.
Leaning over, he brushes my hair behind my ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Lina.” A warning slips into his tone. “What have I said about nothing?”
Desperate to change the subject, I blurt out, “I’d like to visit the mine.”
“You would? Why?”
“I’ve been curious since Fouché mentioned the changes you’ve made, plus I’ve only seen photos.”
“I didn’t know you were interested.”
“Neither did I. I never used to be when Harold owned it.”
A smile warms his face. “A visit can be arranged. How about today?”
“Now?”
“Sure.”
“What about flights?”
“Anything is possible
if you can charter a plane. I’ll give you a personal tour.” He motions at my empty plate. “Finished?”
When I nod, he starts clearing the table. In the kitchen, he loads the dishwasher while I wipe down the counters. To an outsider looking in, we’d appear like any normal married couple, but it’s a dangerous illusion. Damian has been too sweet with me. He’s been too gentle. He may have burned his paddles and whips, but he needs an outlet for his dark sexual cravings.
I haven’t realized how hard I’m gripping the counter until his arms fold around me from behind, and he whispers in my ear, “Relax, I know what you’re worried about.”
“You do?”
That darkness I both fear and crave slips into his voice. “I’m not going to hurt you, not unless you deserve it.”
“You want it.”
“You’re enough.”
I turn in his hold, staring at his beautiful face. My question is doubtful. “Am I?”
He kisses my lips. “Yes.”
“If I can’t give you what you need…”
His tone hardens. “I’m not letting you go, Lina.”
I place my palms on his chest. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” His piercing eyes hold a challenge. “Explain.”
“I don’t want you to…” This is hard to say. “I don’t want you to start looking around.”
His expression softens. The tension in his face evaporates. “You’re jealous,” he says as if it’s a wonderful thing.
My cheeks heat. “I’m not.”
He rests his forehead against mine. “That’s so fucking endearing.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“There’s no reason to be insecure. You’re the only woman I want.”
“Until you need violence.”
“It’s not about violence.”
“What then?”
“It’s about control.”
“You like to hurt me.”
“Only if it makes you wet.”
“It doesn’t.”
“We’ve already established that.”
“Well, not all of it.” A flush moves up my neck as I say it.
He raises an eyebrow. “Which parts did you enjoy?”
“The spanking, when it wasn’t too hard.”
“Mm.” He places his hands on either side of me on the counter, caging me in. “What else?”
“When you watched.”
His eyes darken, and his erection grows against my stomach. “I may need a reminder.”
“What, now?”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” he says with a devilish grin.
“The mine—”
He reaches for the buttons of my blouse. “Can wait.”
I nearly go to pieces as he undresses me. I didn’t know until this moment how much I craved another taste of his devious side. Pushing the edges of my blouse aside, he exposes my naked breasts. I’m still not wearing a bra. The strap irritates the healing tattoo. He weighs each breast in his palm before giving my nipples a gentle kiss. Then he unfastens my pants and pushes them over my hips. Turning me around, he pulls my panties down to my thighs. With the restriction of the fabric, I can’t widen my stance. I peer at him from over my shoulder to see him open his fly and take out his cock. He pumps twice and uses the pre-cum to lubricate my slit before pushing in slowly.
The friction and stretch make me go on tiptoes. He only allows me a brief repose to get used to his size before he starts pumping. His gaze is locked onto where we’re joined, and I’m watching him watching us, knowing from the way his cheekbones darken how much it turns him on. He grunts.
“Aren’t you going to spank me?” I ask.
“No.”
“Why not?’
He stops moving and kisses my back. “You didn’t do anything that deserves punishment. On the contrary.”
“Don’t stop.”
He starts thrusting again, faster. I’m on the brink of coming when he stops.
“What are you doing?” I utter on a frustrated moan.
He turns me around and lifts me onto the counter. “I’m going to give you what you like. I’m going to watch. Fuck your fingers.”
As I start acting out the command, he pulls my pussy open, looking at the work of my hand with so much concentration I falter in my rhythm. He swats my thigh in a wordless reprimand. My inner muscles contract. Pressing the heel of my palm on my clit just like he’s taught me, I rub in circles. I’m about to go over the edge when he grips my wrist and pulls my hand away.
“Damian.”
“I like this kind of torture, too.”
Too late, I realize what he means. “Damian, please. Let me come.”
He places the broad head of his cock at my entrance and pushes in gently until he’s buried to the hilt.
“I need—” My words cut off when he starts to pump. “Yes.” Again, he brings me to the edge before slowing. “No,” I moan, lifting my hips and trying to take him deeper.
“Shh,” he taunts. “I’ll make it worth it. I promise.”
When I think I can’t take more, he twists me around again and rubs my arousal around my anus. I grip the edges of the counter, shaking as the head of his cock breaches the tight muscles of my dark entrance. He works carefully, going slowly, and by the time I’ve taken all of him, he has his fingers in my pussy and on my clit.
I need just a little to get me there, and still he refuses me, keeping me in that impossible place between pleasure and pain until I’m begging. It’s only then he gives me what I need, rolling my clit between his fingers. I explode with pleasure, coming so hard I feel lightheaded.
He groans. “Fuck. Can you feel me filling up your tight little asshole with my cum?”
His vulgar language makes me come harder and longer, until my upper body collapses on the counter, and I forget why we’re here or where we’re going.
“See?” he breathes triumphantly next to my ear. “I don’t need to spank you to come the hardest of my life.”
Damian
The day is cool but sunny in the Richtersveld. Autumn is setting in. I help Lina from the car and pull her jacket around her shoulders. She stops to look at the small mountains of sand in the distance and the offices in front. Sucking in a breath, she grabs my arm.
The mine has undergone a metamorphosis. The muddy pools in the office grounds are gone. A natural garden, inspired by her ecosystem, stretches from the east to the compound in the west. The area beyond has been paved and fitted with tables and umbrellas. The food truck has been replaced with a proper canteen where warm meals are served. The raised housing with its pressed wood walls has been leveled to the ground, and in its place stands a solid brick structure with decent heating and air conditioning. There’s a games room at the back, and a medical office with a full-time nurse.
The heaps of excavated soil are systematically being leveled on the riverbed and planted with indigenous grass. The polls should cover the whole area by next summer.
“Damian.” She looks at me in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.”
She glances back at the office area. “It looks…”
“New?” I tease.
She swats my arm. “Clean. It’s so different from the ugly photos I saw.”
“I’m glad you approve. Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to the front building where Ellis’ office is situated.
He comes out when he sees us, giving Lina a warm welcome.
“Wow,” she says, looking toward the new transport area.
“I know.” Ellis follows her gaze. “Big changes.”
“The Union must be happy,” she says.
“So are the miners,” Ellis replies. “The other mine managers, not so much.”
“There must be pressure on them now to meet the same standards.”
“You bet. Better working conditions, better security measures.”
Lina turns to me. “Congratulations, Damian. You must b
e proud.”
“It’s not finished. This is only the first phase. We’re planning on adding visitor’s accommodation and a pool.”
“The excavation of the bedrock was the priority,” Ellis says. “Taking the full tour?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll get you a hardhat and a safety jacket, then.”
Ellis is most in his element when he’s playing tour guide. As he buzzes off, I study my wife’s face while she takes in the transformation. She’s not smiling, but her eyes twinkle with excitement. She looks happy for me, like you can only look happy for someone if you care. This new pride, the times she worries about me, her decision to come clean and to stay, all these smaller acts add up to one enormous truth. I didn’t plan on bringing it up now, but the moment has presented itself, and I don’t believe in wasting moments.
Gripping her chin, I turn her face to me. “Lina, do you love me?”
She goes still. Her face turns white.
The subject is more delicate than I thought. We’ve always been fighting a war, me for her affection and she for freedom. Acknowledging to loving me is admitting she lost. I tread gently. Bruising her ego or rubbing her nose in her losses isn’t the objective.
“There’s no need to hide it from me. I won’t use the knowledge against you.”
Her stance slackens. She averts her eyes.
“Look at me, Lina.” Reluctantly, she obeys. “I’ve suspected for a while.”
She jerks as if I’ve pumped a round of bullets into her. “How?”
“You’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”
“Am I?”
“It was there, just now, in your eyes.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her palm. “You looked happy for me.”
Pulling her hand away, she bites her nail and turns toward the distance. She’s not even pretending to look at something. She’s staring miserably at nothing.
“It’s nothing to feel bad about. You never stood a chance, angel. I came at you with everything I’ve got.”
Beauty in the Broken: A Diamond Magnate Novel Page 37
