Tame Quantum Boxed Set 1, Books 1-3 (Quantum Series)

by Marie Force

  “What about Hayden and the movie and work and everything?”

  “He and I have come to an understanding. He knows I want and need to be with you right now. I’ll work some part of every day from wherever we are, and he was cool with that.”

  “Can I think about it a little?”

  “Take all the time you need.” He lets out a huge yawn that tells me he’s as tired as I am from staying up half the night before. “What do you want to do today?”

  He’s given me the perfect opening to ask the questions I have about the room I discovered upstairs. He runs a finger over the furrow between my brows. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on, Nat. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

  “I’d rather show you, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  I get up out of bed, retrieve my robe from the floor and tie it around my waist.

  Flynn groans. “You didn’t say I had to get dressed for this.”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  I take him by the hand, and he follows me up the stairs, caressing my bottom as we go. “Flynn, stop!”

  “I’ll never stop. This is my favorite ass in the whole world.”

  I lead him into Hayden’s bedroom. “What do you want to show me in here besides the biggest bed in the universe?”

  “I know! What does he need with a bed that big?”

  He doesn’t reply.

  “What I want to show you is in here.”

  “How did you happen to end up in Hayden’s closet?”

  “I was looking for the laundry room and Fluff came in here. I chased after her, and one thing led to another, which led to this.”

  Chapter 19

  Natalie steps aside, and I nearly gasp at what I see. Hayden’s fucking playroom. Natalie is in Hayden’s fucking playroom, and I have no idea what to say right now. I’m feeling panicked. I knew Hayden had a room in his house in town but I didn’t know he had one here, too. If I’d known that, I never would’ve left Natalie alone in the house. And why in the name of fucking hell isn’t it locked?

  “Flynn?”

  I glance over at her to find her looking at me curiously. That’s when I realize my dick is hard and giving away my true feelings about the room.

  “I guess Hayden has his secrets.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “So you didn’t know about this?”

  I’m on a very slippery slope, and it’s getting slipperier by the second. “No,” I say, because it’s the truth. I didn’t know he has a room here.

  “Oh.”

  Does she sound disappointed or is that my hopeful imagination at work?

  “Do you know what goes on here?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I venture a glance at her. “Do you?”

  “I looked it up.”

  “Oh.” The thought of her looking up information about sex playrooms and other such things only makes me harder, which she notices but thankfully doesn’t comment on. I’m dying to ask her what she thinks of it and whether she wants to try it, but then I remember what happened when I pinned her hands above her head. So I don’t ask. Rather, I dodge the subject. “Since we’re moving home tonight, we should hit the beach while we can.”

  After a long pause, she says, “Sure, whatever you want to do. Let me put the clothes in the dryer, and I’ll be right down.”

  She goes out ahead of me, and I close the door to the playroom. My heart is hammering on the way downstairs. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! If she ever finds out what I’ve kept from her, she’ll never forgive me, especially after all the painful things she’s shared with me and no one else.

  Maybe I should see this as an opportunity and just tell her the fucking truth once and for all. But the thought of that makes my skin feel hot and tight the way it did when I had hives once as a kid. I can’t tell her. I just can’t, even though I know I should.

  We pass a relaxing afternoon at the beach. At least she’s relaxed. I’m wound so tightly, my chest aches from the stress. After dinner, we pack up our belongings and head back to my place in the Hollywood Hills. The paparazzi gave up when they saw no sign of us there for more than a week.

  Natalie has been unusually quiet, which I chalk up to the decision about her job that’s hanging over her. I want to ask her what she’s thinking, but I’m afraid of what she might say. I don’t want to go back to New York. I want to take her to Mexico on the honeymoon she deserves. I want to spend some more time completely alone with my wife.

  Then it occurs to me that she probably doesn’t have a passport. “Hey, Nat,” I say from my perch in bed. Thrilled to be back in my own bed, I’m waiting for her to join me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you have a passport?”

  “Uh-huh. I got one when I changed my name.” She comes into the bedroom rubbing lotion into her hands and wearing a gorgeous nightgown I haven’t seen before. “Ironically, David Rogers suggested I get one while we were taking care of everything else.”

  “Is it here or in New York?”

  “It’s here. I keep it zipped into my purse so I have ID on me since I don’t have a driver’s license. Why?”

  “Just wondering, if we end up going to Mexico. Have you ever used it?”

  “Nope. Never been out of the country. My parents weren’t comfortable with me being out of the country when I traveled with the Stones, so I never went on those trips.”

  “Now I really want to go to Mexico so I can be with you for another first.”

  She slides into bed and turns to face me. “I want to go to Mexico, too, Flynn. I want a honeymoon.”

  I take hold of her hand and link our fingers. “What about your job?”

  “I’m going to call tomorrow and ask if I can have next week to figure things out. I’m sure they’ll be willing to give me some time since I thought I’d been permanently fired.”

  “Do you have Addie’s number in your phone?”

  “Yes, she texted me earlier.”

  “Will you text her and tell her Mexico is a go for tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? She’ll be up all night making plans if we go tomorrow.”

  “Nah, I have a house down there, so all we need is the plane and to let the staff there know I’m coming.”

  “You have a house in Mexico.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Where else do you have houses?”

  “I have a place in Aspen and one in the south of France. And the place in New York. That’s it, though.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. For a minute there, I wondered if your house collection is as big as your car collection.”

  “Smart-ass.” I smile as I kiss her. “Now will you send that text, please? I feel like I’ve had an arm amputated without my phone.”

  “Awww, poor baby. Yes, I’ll send the text.”

  Addie replies right away. Got it. I’m on it.

  “Does that poor girl ever sleep?” I put my phone on the bedside table and snuggle up to Flynn.

  “Yes, she gets plenty of sleep.”

  “When? You’re bugging her morning, noon and night.”

  “She loves her job.”

  “Sure she does.”

  “She does! I’m great to work for. I pay her a ton of money. I bought her an awesome car. I set her up rent-free in a condo we own in Santa Monica. She’s doing just fine.”

  “It does sound like a pretty sweet deal, especially since she gets to work for you.”

  “I know, right?” he says with a cocky grin.

  I poke his belly, and he laughs. “If we go to Mexico, when will I be able to see my sisters?” I’ve texted with both of them every day, and all we talk about is getting together as soon as we’re all free at the same time.

  “Addie has been in touch with them about the logistics, and it seems like the weekend after next is better for them because of school and work and everything they’ve got going on. Will that be okay?”r />
  “Sure. That’ll be great.” We’ve waited this long. Another week or so won’t make a difference. Everything in my life feels so uncertain and up in the air. Except for the man currently wrapped around me, who begins to snore softly.

  I stroke his hair and caress the stubble on his cheeks. He’s so beautiful all the time, but he’s even more so when he’s asleep. Even with the gorgeous rings on my fingers, I still can’t believe that this incredible man is my husband, that I get to keep him forever.

  My phone rings, and I pounce on it, hoping it won’t wake Flynn.

  “Hello?” I get out of bed and leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  “You were looking awfully smug last night, which leads me to wonder how much you know about the man you married.”

  “Who is this?”

  “The first Mrs. Godfrey.”

  I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. How did she get my number? “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I have a few things to say to you. I’m sure you’ve heard about all the ways I ruined his life, but you should know how he ruined mine. Have you seen his sick little playroom in the basement yet? If you don’t believe me, you should check it out for yourself. He keeps it locked, but there’s a key in the kitchen. It’s hanging on a hook by the door.”

  I need to end this call right now, because I know how awful she’s been to Flynn. But remembering his obvious physical reaction to Hayden’s playroom keeps me from ending the call. “Why’re you telling me this?”

  “Because. You look like a nice enough girl. And I’d hate to see him do to you what he did to me, both in private and in public.”

  “It’s not because you want him back, is it?”

  She snorts loudly. “I’d rather be single and celibate for the rest of my life than to spend one more minute with that man.”

  “Good thing you don’t have to, then.”

  “Check out the basement, Natalie. Don’t be naïve.”

  “Don’t call me again.” I hit the End button and hold the phone in my trembling hands. For long minutes, I stand in the dark living room that looks down over the glittering lights of Los Angeles. I can’t move. I can’t think or process what just happened.

  Why is she doing this to me? It’s no secret that she and Flynn hate each other, so of course she doesn’t want him to be happy with his new wife. I’d be wise to forget what she said and go on with my life. But how am I supposed to do that without knowing if what she said is true?

  And what if it is? What then?

  “One thing at a time.” I return to the bedroom, where Flynn is still asleep. Fluff has moved into my spot, and Flynn’s hand is on her back. Tears fill my eyes at the sight of the two “people” I love best snuggled up to each other. How far we’ve all come since that day in the park.

  And in all that time, has he been keeping something huge from me? Something I should’ve known before I married him and tied my life to his forever? Have I been a total fool? In hindsight, there have been signs that there’s more to my husband than what he has shown me. Things he’s said and done. “I want to fuck you here,” he said while fingering my ass.

  Later, he showed regret for his blunt language and for introducing things I wasn’t ready for. But I liked it, and he’s done it again since then. Standing there, watching him sleep, I’m so confused. I should wake him up and just ask him if what Valerie said is true. Is he into the same things Hayden is, and if so, what does that mean for us?

  But how will I know if he’s being truthful? When it comes right down to it, I don’t know everything there is to know about this man I married after a whirlwind romance.

  Leaving him and Fluff to sleep, I step out of the bedroom and close the door. I return to the living room where I sit in the dark for more than an hour, trying to reject what Valerie said as the words of a vindictive bitch who lost the love of an amazing man and earned his eternal scorn. I want to put all my faith in him because he’s given me no reason not to, but she was so specific, right down to where the key is located.

  It becomes clear to me that I have to see for myself if it’s true before I ask him. There’ll be no peace in my mind or in my life until I know for certain. In the kitchen, I find the key right where Valerie said it would be, which is a reminder that she once lived in this house. Did she choose all the furniture? Were the dishes once hers?

  “Ugh.” Focus, Natalie. One thing at a time.

  The door to the basement is in the hallway. In the short amount of time I’ve spent in this house, I haven’t paid it much attention. That’s how I managed to miss the fact that there’s a dead-bolt lock on the door. I insert the key and turn the lock, which disengages with a loud click that sends my anxiety into the red zone. I’m fully aware that if I open that door and go down those stairs, I’m violating his privacy. That once I do this, it can’t be undone.

  Other than my accidental foray into Hayden’s closet, I’ve never done anything even close to this before. I mind my own business. That’s who I am. But there’s a first—and second—time for everything. I flip on the light and start down the stairs, my heart beating so hard I can hear the flutter of it echoing in my ears.

  My throat is tight and my mouth is dry. What will I find here, and will it change everything? I don’t have to go far to confirm that Valerie was telling the truth. “Oh my God,” I whisper. Flynn’s playroom is bigger and even more elaborate than Hayden’s. There are numerous pieces of equipment, one of them an S-shaped chaise that I didn’t see on any of the sites I visited online.

  Like in Hayden’s room, ropes fall from the ceiling and a row of paddles in various sizes as well as floggers and whips hang from a pegboard on the wall. I don’t bother to cross the room to the armoire because I already know what I’ll find inside.

  I’ve seen more than enough to know the truth about my husband and his true preferences. Half-expecting to find him waiting for me, I trudge up the stairs, my mind whirling as I relive every moment we’ve spent together and every sexual encounter. I’ve been blown away by our physical connection. I thought he was, too. But is he only pretending to be satisfied while wishing for so much more than his broken wife can give him?

  I turn off the light, lock the door and return the key to the hook in the kitchen. There’s no way I’ll sleep, so I fix myself a cup of hot chocolate and take it to the sofa. I’m so far out of my league with this situation that I don’t know how to begin to wrap my mind around it.

  Over the course of the next few hours, I sit in the darkness and dissect every minute, every second, every conversation, every caress, every word that has passed between us. There were clues, here and there, little things that didn’t make sense at the time, but in this new context, I realize they were red flags that I missed. Such as his insistence on a safe word, which is a mainstay of the BDSM lifestyle. I recall something he once said: “I’ve been with a lot of women. Probably too many. I’ve kissed them and fucked them and done things with them you’d no doubt find distasteful at best, objectionable at worst.”

  Is this what he meant by objectionable? I never suspected my husband was a dominant or that he participated in things so far outside my realm of understanding I wouldn’t have recognized them if they slapped me in the face.

  Among all those moments we spent together were the ones in which I’d bared my soul to him, sharing my painful past and bringing him into my life. I have been closer to him in the few weeks we’ve spent together than I’ve been to anyone in my life. He knows me in ways that no one else ever has.

  While I was giving him everything, he was lying to me about who and what he really is. If not for his ex-wife clueing me in, I might never have known. Now I’m angry—that he kept his truth from me, that his ex-wife, a woman he despises, was the one to tell me and not him. Was he ever going to tell me? What was his plan? Initiate me to regular sex and then change the rules?

  Or is it possible that he never planned to tell me? Probably… I recall our wedding night
and the panic attack I had when he pinned down my hands. After hearing my story, I can see why he might’ve decided to keep the dominant side of himself hidden from me. Though I don’t approve of him entering into a marriage with such a big secret between us, I understand that he thought he was protecting me. And I love him for that, even though I can’t condone the keeping of secrets of this magnitude.

  I think about all the good things that have happened between us. I remember his generosity toward Aileen and her family, the way he paid the rent on our New York apartment for a year, paid for meals for all the kids in my school, hosted the gathering of my students, put up with my hostile dog in his bed and went to war over my wrongful termination. I relive his heartfelt proposal, the acceptance and love his family has shown me, and the tenderness he has given me when I needed it most.

  I’ve seen his heart, over and over again. He loves me. I have no doubt about that. But does he love me enough to tell me the truth? Does he love me enough to figure this out together? Does he love me enough to let me see the rest of him? The part he has kept hidden from me?

  What I won’t tolerate are lies and secrets. I’ve had enough of both those things in my life already. I want the truth. I want him to want to tell me. What will I do if he looks me in the eye and lies?

  My heart is breaking as it becomes clear to me that if he lies, I’ll have no choice but to leave him. I can’t—and I won’t—be in a relationship built on lies. Even if he had my best interests at heart by keeping this from me, it’s time now to come clean. I’ll give him the chance to tell the truth, and if he does, we’ll figure out our next steps together. If he lies… Well, then I know what I have to do.

  Chapter 20

  I wake up to the most god-awful smell. I’m almost afraid to open my eyes to see what it is. When I do, I realize I’m sharing my pillow with the wildebeest, and she’s got some nasty morning breath.

  “Christ on a stick,” I mutter as I realize that not only is she sharing my pillow, but apparently I’m snuggling with her, too. I long for the days when she was snapping at me. How in the hell did I end up snuggled up to Fluff rather than my gorgeous wife? And speaking of my gorgeous wife, where is she?