Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  Plopping back into the chair, I mumble, “I’m going to lose Sal if I go to Deacon.”

  “That much is for certain,” she says. “I wouldn’t have made the moves you did.”

  “... Where did I go wrong?”

  “From what I’ve been told, Deacon beat the crap out of Sal in the cemetery, and you just left. Love doesn’t do that.”

  “I don’t know how to deal with Sal anymore,” I cry.

  “Then you figure it out, or you let it go, but stop dicking Salvatore around. Lives and hearts are on the line. You are not innocent here, young lady. None of you are.”

  “I have to go before I chicken out.”

  “And if there is that much doubt about what you are doing, you should just stay here,” she callously suggests as I am taken aback. “Deacon Cruz is my godson. He is a fine specimen of a man, and you’ve already hurt one. I will not stand by and watch you hurt two.”

  “Sal hurt me too!” I argue, knowing I won’t win. “He’s distant all the time!”

  “I am very well aware he is not an angel, but that doesn’t give you the right to clip his tarnished wings,” she defends. “He needed you in the cemetery, and you chose to walk away. No one made you do it. You did it all on your own. And you need to own up to that and take responsibility for your actions and understand you caused his reaction.”

  “He went to Hannah!”

  “What was he supposed to do? Hide out in a box somewhere and not communicate with anyone while you figured your shit out?” She scowls. “Get a fucking grip, Iris!”

  I blink through the onslaught of tears. “I’m sorry…”

  “Stop apologizing to me,” she says. “I’m not angry with you, but I’m not going to let you believe for one second you didn’t have a role in this outcome. I am not on anyone’s team, but Team Love. And in that, you have all failed miserably. The only one who has shown an inkling of compassion is Hannah Cruz, so you will not be dissing her on my turf.”

  “Is she the new me?”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “She is better than you ever were.”

  “God…hurt me.”

  “What do you think you’ve been doing?” she boldly asks, gripping my hand. If it were anyone else, I would’ve walked away by now, but I can’t ignore Anna. “Make a choice. Stick with it. And don’t blame anyone but yourself if you change your mind, and Sal isn’t waiting with bated breath upon your groveling return. He is going to move on. Accept it now. There may be a girl known as Mrs. Raniero, and she may not be you.”

  I gulp down the poison I crafted. She’s so accurate in her assessments it leaves my head spinning and my heart fluttering. “I have to go.”

  “Then, Dandy…fly free and go get him.”

  “What do I say?” I nervously ask as she follows me through the halls. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

  “I would suggest a hello.” She turns on every light as we walk through Scarlet House. “And then I’d fuck him ’til the sun comes up.”

  I laugh at her sudden humor, but I’d expect no less from the matriarch. She kicks asses and then kisses them too. “The sun will be up when I get there.”

  “I guess you best stretch those legs.”

  “Fuck!” I howl out. “What am I doing?”

  “You’re growing up,” she reminds us we rush to the bedroom. “You’ve got gumption, and you’re making a decision. That is what this is called—being an adult.”

  “I don’t like it!” I cry. “I want to be the Iris Nakamura I am in business.”

  “You can’t be,” she says. “Heart leads love.”

  I toss my suitcase on the bed. “Dammit!”

  “Hurry the hell up before the news comes on!”

  I giggle and open the closet door. “His cut…”

  “Take it!” she urges. “Unless you want me to be Cruz’s old lady…”

  Oh. Fucking. Shit.

  I imagine I’m running up the mountain to find peace when I slip and stumble in the snow. Old Lady. Club. Cruz. Deacon’s girl…Deacon’s bitch…Deacon’s sweet snatch…oh God!

  I sprint to the bathroom and puke again. I wipe my mouth and brush my teeth. I really need a shower. I change my clothes and pull his cut off the hanger. “I’m fucking wearing it.”

  “Be careful doing that,” she cautions.

  “I know,” I say, giving the room a once over. “I have to go to the safe.”

  “I won’t be joining you for the funeral,” she mumbles as we trod back downstairs. Tears won’t stop streaming down my cheeks. I can’t stop the train in motion. I can get on board or let it kill me. There are no other options in my mind because I can’t walk away from both. “But I’ll wait for you. You need to tell Kali and Ho.”

  “They’re waiting in the driveway.”

  “Good girl,” she praises. “You are the Lotus.”

  “I know,” I say. “They just better keep up.”

  I head through the kitchen, and the memories—biscuits and flour and fights and fucking—hit like a thousand boulders landing on me. I’m hysterically sobbing as I go into the cellar and stop dead in my tracks at the sight of the bathtub.

  “Who gave you this band?” I asked, laying in the still water against his chest.

  “Kaci gave me that one,” Sal whispered. “You can’t have it. But you can have me...forever...always.”

  “Oh God, I can’t do this…”

  “Make a damn decision!” she yells from the top of the stairs. “Stop going down memory lane because you have a whole map to explore! Stick that cheap piece in my safe, and let’s get this show on the road! I’m not getting any younger!”

  “They weren’t cheap diamonds!”

  They were perfect.

  We were perfect.

  And then we were imperfect and flawed and broken and spiteful and cruel.

  I rush to the toilet and puke. Tears, snot, and vomit cover my face. It all hurts so...fucking...much. I look in the mirror. “What am I doing?”

  I clean myself up, take a deep breath, and march to the closet. I open the safe, and I lay my hand on the only thing in there, his Little Black Book. Everything he did was to get me to this point.

  I need to let him go; he needs to let me go.

  Sal and Iris reached the end. We will become a thing of the past.

  With shaking fingers, I undo the clasp and kneel. “God, please forgive me. Be proud of me. I’m trying to do exactly what you told me to do, Sir. I love you, Master Salvatore.”

  With the weight from my neck gone, I realize this is over. I stand up on wobbly sea legs ready to wash out from under me. “Shit! I can’t be with you…I can’t be without you,” I bawl, crying massive tears and kissing the strand before placing my pretty collar on top of the leather-bound book. “I love you. More than words. Thank you for everything, but I have to go…I can’t keep hurting you anymore…”

  I close the safe and take a few spindly steps. “Iris Amarie!” Anna shouts. “Get out of my dungeon!”

  “Yes, Mistress of Juliet!” I yell, quickly turning and not looking back. “I’m coming…I’m coming…I’m coming…Deacon…”

  “Finally!” she shouts as I emerge reborn with only one collar—the silver chain from Deacon. My bags wait by the door. “Now get out of my house! And come back as soon as you can!”

  “I will,” I say, giving her a long hug. “Thank you so much. I love you!”

  “You’re welcome!”

  “Oh, God!” I scream, wondering what the fuck I am thinking.

  “Go!” she yells as I spin for the door. She smacks my ass hard with a ruler. “Go!”

  “Call me when you get there.”

  With uncertainty, I pivot back. “Wait! Have you talked to Sal?”

  “Yes, but not concerning your relationship,” she says. “You abandoned your post, missy. And he reacted, but you are making a decision now which will cut the cord.”

  Her honest words hit me like an avalanche as I understand the severity of the
crime against his soul. Running out of oxygen, I dig through the flakes, trying to find the sky. The bitter winds hit my cheeks as I gaze up to the snowdrift and understand with clarity the sanctuary I seek.

  Emotions evaporate from my expression as I stoically ask, “Have you talked to your godson?”

  “What the hell do you take me for?” she jokingly scolds. “I am not going to ruin a surprise like this. He’ll be at the rehab center. He’s been there every day.”

  “Wait.”

  “Iris…” She rolls her eyes and sighs.

  “Is he involved with Cat again?”

  “No,” she says. “He is involved with Dale.” My eyes widen in terror. “Not like that! He’s helping him learn to walk.”

  “Oh, really? … Deacon?”

  “Yes, really,” she chimes, pushing me out the door and swatting my ass again. I bend and kiss her lips. “If one of you kids doesn’t hurry the hell up and get married before I dance with Luca for all eternity, I swear I am haunting all of your asses!”

  “Yes, ma’am!” I reply, taking a deep breath. “Kali!” I yell. “Are you ready?”

  “Miss Nakamura…”

  “If you cannot keep up, I will leave you in the dust because we are only stopping twice, and I am not waiting any longer than necessary.”

  “What if we reach inclement weather?”

  Having not considered that as a possibility, I blink. “I don’t know what you’ll do, but I’m going to the safe house.”

  “Yes,” she says. “With a sociopathic stud from the swamp.”

  “Exactly!” Lifting my finger, I plot the course on my phone. “It’s almost fifteen hours.”

  “Sixteen,” she claims. “Are you sure you want to drive it? And what would you like me to do with the Lotus jet?” she asks. “It’s been waiting on the tarmac for two hours.”

  “Leave it here,” I confirm. “Because Deacon and I are coming home.”

  “He has a vehicle with him,” she says. “He took the F-250.”

  “Oh, shit…you’re right.”

  “Drive or fly, Miss Nakamura? You can arrive in the middle of the night or tomorrow at midday. The choice is yours.”

  “I want to drive,” I mutter, making the decision. “I need to compose my thoughts.”

  “You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

  “And he’ll take care of me.”

  65

  Imperfect Contrition

  The Master

  In the bar of the hotel in Tokyo, I have drinks with Masa. We’ve been meeting with various contacts and working out like dogs over the last week. I’ve got a few bruises, but it only seems to add to their fear of Sal Raniero.

  Cause I am so scary.

  Boo! Wink.

  In an interesting turn of events, word quickly traveled that I was eligible. Iris and I were taking a much needed “relationship break,” which led to a whole slew of good-looking Asian girls wanting to wiggle on my lap. I’m humored, but I have no interest in sex at the moment because in my heart, I’m not free. My soul is married to an unrequited love.

  We’re having a good time. Masa is a lot like me, and he swings the spectrum depending on the connection. He’s a good-looking guy, especially in a suit.

  He is trying to strike up a deal with triad investors. Basically, I am eye candy and humor. This table is too rich for my blood, in more ways than one.

  We’re laughing and having a grand time when I spot the woman in the short red dress with a plunging neckline and black stilettos. Her hair is up in a bun, and a few loose tendrils frame her face. In red lipstick, she smiles.

  I slam my drink. “Excuse me,” I say, getting up and buttoning the jacket of my black suit. “Good meeting you all.” I lay a hand on Masa because I don’t plan on coming back. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good one, Sal.”

  With an intent stride in my step, I focus on her and she on me. We’ve done this dance before. I am the young mafioso, and she’s the older woman wanting to assist in steering the narrative, but her opinions won’t plague me. Not anymore.

  I stop within inches of her, and my eyes skim over her perfect skin and radiant blue eyes. “If you stay near me too long, I will be forced to whip your ass for blowing up the car.”

  “You’re more concerned about the fucking car than me!”

  “Truth hurts.”

  “Don’t even,” she whispers. “I was running out of options.”

  “You always have options if you call your Dominant.”

  “I did call you.”

  “Ya,” I say. “But I didn’t know you were planning on playing with explosives.”

  “I needed a reason to earn a new one, and I have it,” she sasses.

  I lift a brow as we play chess. My eyes skim down to that rack I have loved for so many years of my life. She tries to hand me the envelope. My mouth waters and I move my tongue against the roof as my eyes blink and meet hers. “You’re trouble.”

  “Take the envelope.”

  I stroke my goatee. “I should walk away.”

  “You won’t,” she counters. “You forgot one important piece in the Sal Raniero rebuild—you need me.”

  “I don’t need a Mistress.” With a smug smirk, I snicker. “Need is a bit strong of a word. That’s like saying I need to be in a tank with two dozen pit vipers and no anti-venom for five thousand miles.”

  “They’ve got good fangs and slither well,” she lures. “And so do I.”

  I glance down at the envelope…and her tits…again as my lips twitch with a pang of ravenous hunger. I take the envelope.

  So much for I don’t need sex.

  Sport sex is very different from love sex.

  From inside my jacket, I pull out my glasses, and she furrows her brow. “… Are you okay?”

  I walk to an empty table and sit down before opening the envelope. “Ya, I’m fine. I just haven’t been wearing my contacts because my whole face is still swollen,” I ramble off as I read. “You know all this for a fact?”

  She sighs. “Yeah, Iris is about to walk into something really fucking bad.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  Her eyes shift from side-to-side. “What do you mean?”

  “Where on the planet Earth did you locate this intel?”

  “Oh!” she says. “Moscow! I befriended Stanis’ mistress.”

  “You fucked a hot Russian chick over some vodka and caviar just to impress me?”

  “Would I do that?” She smiles.

  “I trained you,” I snark. “I would hope so.”

  “I didn’t have to fuck her,” she says, sitting on the edge of the chair. I raise a brow at the short the hem of her skirt. “She was an older woman, frustrated with her position, and willing to talk. But she is not his only Mistress.”

  I replace the document in the envelope and pull off my glasses before putting both into my jacket. I stand and move to her side. With a scrutinizing gaze, I order, “Come on, whore.”

  I walk away as she chases after me. “Where are we going?”

  Stopping mid-step, I look her in the eyes. “Would I tell you if I were going to kill you?”

  “No, Sir,” she innocently says, picking up her subservience where we left off before things got so complicated. “You would just do it.”

  “Do you trust me?” She anxiously peers over my shoulder. “Do I leave you unsettled, Mae?”

  She flinches at the name. “There has been some bad blood between us, Sal.”

  I nod. “Alright. Have a good night.”

  Taking a few steps, I feel her fingers vice around my elbow. My eyes harshly reprimand her touch. “I’m sorry, Sir. Please. Wait.”

  “You either trust me, or you don’t,” I remind, sounding exactly like what I am. “I can’t help you otherwise. And I am about your only hope of getting back into the States.”

  “Would you do that for me?”

  “I would do lots of things for the right bitch,” I point out
. “But I don’t know if you can be her, you tend to bite too much for my liking.”

  “Including giving the love of your life to Deacon Cruz!”

  Now, she is drawing blood, and it is pissing me off. With a determined stare, I flick my tongue over my bottom lip and tighten my jaw. “That stops. Right here. Right now. It isn’t up for debate as to what I did. My relationship with Iris and Deacon,” I forcefully say, lifting my hand to talk. “And them together is of no concern to you.”

  “I fought to get you with Iris,” she scolds. “And you walked away!”

  I scratch the side of my nose. “You know, that’s sweet, but I didn’t really need any help in the love department. I had it handled.”

  “You’re hurting more than you’re willing to admit.”

  I lift both arms with a shrug. “It’s a done deal. Iris and Deacon are a thing, and I am a bachelor again.”

  Her eyes open wide as she huffs, “… And you’re okay with that?”

  “I have to be,” I concede. “There isn’t a choice. And that is what you seem to be missing. They are in mad passionate love with one another.”

  “So were you…”

  “We’re not all three going to get married,” I charge, growing more irritated by the second. “And I would rather back down and take the loss than lose either of them.”

  “You don’t take loss well.”

  “Amber, you make a compelling argument, and I would love to stand here for hours and have this bizarre therapy session with a sociopath, but it isn’t going to solve anything. I am here until one of them decides they want me more.”

  “Is that what this is?” she barks. “You’re taunting the beast to see if it bites?”

  “If neither bite, I know the answer.” I turn away.

  She criticizes, “Did you rape her to piss him off?”

  Spinning steadily back, I snarl. “I may have pushed the rough sex a little much, but I didn’t rape her, and she didn’t call a safeword. But if you keep this line of questioning up, I am going to take you to an alley behind some dank Tokyo noodle bar, and show you what rape is before I murder you. And that isn’t a promise. It is a guarantee.”