by Jane Henry
I’m afraid he’s going to find something and break it, pound the wall with his fist, or roar like a savage animal, the look in his eyes is so feral.
“Then things got confusing, though. I followed your instructions, but you were acting strangely.”
“Of course, because it wasn’t me.”
I sigh. God. I was played for a fool. I have no idea why, but everything spiraled out of control. A knock sounds at the door and Zack walks in, but he’s not alone. Viktor walks in beside him, looking tired and wan with a swollen lip and black eye. I wait. I need to know what happened but even though my head pounds, my heart is hopeful. It wasn’t him. Something was amiss, and we’ll figure that out, but he didn’t cheat on me. He wouldn’t. God, I was stupid.
Viktor reaches a hand to me. “Agent Ivanov,” he says. “Undercover agent. What we say in this room is highly confidential. Even Marla will not know. She will, eventually, but not yet.”
Axle gives me a look that underscores this command. I nod as Viktor and Zack take seats.
“About a month ago, I came here following a small circle of men who were hired to hurt Axle. It was a professional hire and was supposed to end with a hit.”
I blink. What?
“Why?” I ask.
“Seven years ago, as you know, Axle was a Father Noah at a small church in Louisville. There were several rich parishioners who invested in the property affiliated with Fairwood Enterprises. When the…” he pauses and looks apologetically at Axle, “scandal went down, investors pulled out. And a certain investor, Veronica Vanderkilt, invested so much, she went into financial ruin.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault. The investments were stacked illegally, funded by the Bratva, and when the deals fell through, the investors were scrambling. So, she’s been trying to track Axle, and it appears she did so out of pure revenge. She hired the men who were at the club last night, and they were happy to oblige, since their investments were tied into the church as well.”
“This is crazy,” I say. He nods and shrugs, not disagreeing with me.
“I knew the plan, but I couldn’t act right away. I’m still undercover with them. They’re heading back to Atlanta, and I’ll have to join them in the morning.” He continues, his eyes going from me to Axle. “Their plan was to take you,” he says. “But the plan was sloppy and poorly orchestrated. One dressed like Axle, and someone stole his phone. They were staging a kidnapping. Zack’s men have uncovered the van in the back parking lot of Verge, ready to take you. They were planning on Axle following, and the plan then was to stage his execution. But their plan was sloppy. They began with a staged fight in the bar area to distract Zack, but Travis ended that too quickly, and then there was supposed to be a second man there to perform the abduction.” He smiles. “That man was supposed to be me. I pretended to be dealing with Marla, and I never arrived in the dungeon. As you know, Axle intervened, and the rest is history.”
“You got beat up over it?” I ask.
Viktor shrugs. “I have men in high places,” he says. “It ended quickly.”
“And now what?” Axle asks.
Viktor sighs. “The Bratva left, and they’re heading back to Atlanta. They’re powerful and slippery. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. I’ll be joining them, but I needed to talk to you two first.” He gets to his feet.
“Marla knows nothing?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not yet. All she knows is that there’s a family emergency and I’m heading home. It’s safer for her this way, Chandra.” And then he’s on his feet and shaking our hands, before he leaves. Zack talks to Axle, but I lay back on the bed, stunned and quiet. This could’ve gone so terribly, terribly wrong.
Finally, we’re alone. And I want to cry.
The door clicks shut, and Axle’s got me in his arms. He’s on the bed and holding me and everything is right again.
“I was so confused,” I tell him. “I saw the note and my head was all a jumble. Then when I saw you with her—”
“Shh,” he says. “I left you after an intense session. You weren’t in your right frame of mind. You needed a good, long, aftercare session.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I should’ve known you would never do that.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t.” We sit in the silence, my head on his shoulder.
“Will they do anything else to hurt us?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Viktor says they moved on. Correction. Our source says they moved on. We don’t know anything.” His voice takes on a stern edge when he raises a brow at me. “Understood?”
I nod.
“At first, our source wasn’t sure if they’d pursue us or not, but he diverted their attention with another job. Now he’s making sure they do everything they can to focus on that.”
“So we’re safe?”
He nods, though he looks a bit apprehensive. My guess is that we’re fine, but Viktor isn’t out of the woods.
“He’s at risk,” I whisper. “If they find out—”
“You let him worry about that.”
I close my mouth and just let myself obey. It feels nice. God, it feels so damn nice.
“And Missy? Who’s Missy?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I knew her years ago. We didn’t even date. She left me a note when I helped her out, and it must’ve been in my dresser.” His tone hardens. “Chandra, you have questions, you ask me. Do you understand? God, I should punish you just for doubting us.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry, sir. I will. I promise.”
When he squeezes me, my heart throbs in tune with his. My head hurts and my body’s sore, but my heart is at peace. He never betrayed me.
“Good girl,” he says with the whisper of a kiss on my forehead. “Such a good girl. We’re going to leave this place, and we’re moving in together.”
He’s not asking, but I don’t care. I love when he commands things. I love when he’s the one in charge like this.
“Yes,” I whisper. It’s right. So damn right.
“When I know things are safe at the club, we can go back, but for now you’re with me. And when the weather warms up, we’ll get married in a little chapel in the city. Just a small ceremony.”
I smile. “Yes, sir. Let’s do that.”
My heart is filled to bursting. I was silly and foolish, but he doesn’t blame me like he could have. Because he loves me. I was meant to be his, and he belongs to me.
“I want to wake up every day with you by my side and tuck you in beside me when I go to bed at night. I want you to wear my ring and make vows that are right and good. The ones I was meant to make. To love, honor, and protect you. Because I love you.”
“And I love you,” I whisper. “God, I love you so much.”
This time, things are right. We were lost and broken, but now we’re saved. We’ll face sadness and happiness, wins and losses. But in the end, we’ll emerge from the ashes, stronger and more powerful, together as one. Sometimes we need to fall and get back up again and keep on going. Sometimes terrible, painful tragedy strikes, but we’re forged in that fire. And we keep on. Maybe we’re scathed and maybe we hurt, but in the end, we remain victorious.
Because in the end we love, and we are loved.
Epilogue
One year later
“Keep your hands where I put them, and do not move.”
“Yes, sir.”
I lean in and grip Chandra’s hair, tug her head back, and bring my mouth to her ear. “He’s got her well-trained, doesn’t he?”
We’re sitting on a loveseat in the dungeon, and Viktor’s got Marla trussed up and at the mercy of his crop. Her eyes glow, her cheeks flushed, and she’s the perfect image of a submissive in utter bliss at the hands of a dom she trusts.
“Oh, he tries,” Chandra says, squirming on my lap on purpose. “But he’s got a long way to go with that girl.” She knows when she wiggles her lap on my ass it makes me hard, which is exactly what
she wants. I slap the side of her full thigh and pull her hair a little tighter.
“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect he doesn’t really want to train her fully anyway.”
“Too true.”
Zack won’t confirm or deny whether or not Viktor still works undercover for the Bratva, but I’ve noticed in the past year his face has thinned and his eyes are rimmed with dark circles. If the man’s still undercover, it’s eating him up. I hope he’s relieved of his job soon, and before the toll his job takes is irreparable.
Marla’s sharp cry interrupts our conversation when Viktor plies the crop harder, the swish and thud making my dick thicken. I want that crop in my hand. I want that ass on display to be Chandra’s.
I need to get her alone. My plans for her don’t involve anyone’s eyes but mine.
“Time for us to go,” I say to her. She met me here after work and may have been hoping to scene tonight. But what we have at our own place awaits.
One of my customers at the shop gave me a deal on a high-rise not ten minutes away from the bookstore and Verge, and we’ve been there now for a while. Chandra has an office in the library, books piled so high on every shelf she’s dwarfed by them, a comfy desk chair, and a couch to sit and type on if she feels like it, but many times, she sits on my lap at night and writes. I watch TV or read a book and she snuggles in and types away. She says being near me inspires her. I don’t know anything about writing, but I do know this: if anyone’s inspiring anyone, she’s the one doing the inspiring.
When I wake with her by my side, I say a prayer of thanksgiving for the beauty she brings into my life. When I hold her in my arms, I praise the sweet feel of her soft curves beneath my hands, the body that responds so well to me, she tells me without words that we were made for each other. When I inhale her scent and feel her warm hand in mine, I cherish the second chance we’ve been given and vow that I’ll never take any of this for granted. When I kiss her full, sultry mouth, and slide my hands along the silky small of her back, I venerate the beauty that belongs to me. Mine. All mine.
But now it’s time to take things to the next level.
We leave Verge and head home and she chatters away about work for a while. Her books are sailing to the top of the lists, and her readership is growing. Last week she had a book signing, and next week she’s doing an interview for some magazine. I love to see her thriving at what she loves, and I’ll do whatever I need to so that she never loses that passion.
I listen as she changes the subject and chatters about the fish she bought, all set up in an aquarium in our dining area. They’re exotic fish from all over the world, and it’s adorable how excited she gets about them. She spent as many hours naming them as she did researching the proper water temperature, filtration, and feeding.
When we reach our apartment, I smile at her. “You’ll be a good mom,” I tell her, tweaking her nose. I push the button on the elevator that takes us upstairs.
That makes her sober a bit. “Anyone can feed fish,” she says sadly. “But babies? I don’t know.” And her eyes grow a little sad and wistful, the way they always do when I say anything that reminds her of the baby she lost. We lost.
“I do know,” I tell her. We ride in silence to our apartment. She’s quiet and contemplative when I open the door, her thoughts otherwise occupied.
I shut and lock the door while she checks on the fish and talks to them. I smile with my back to her so she doesn’t see how ridiculous I think her little routine is when she talks to the damn fish on the other side of the glass.
“Did you have a good day?” she asks. “Get a good nap in? Discover any secret passages? My day was good, but a certain someone,” she gives me a sidelong look, “decided to take me home before we had any fun.”
“Keep it up and that fun will turn into your little ass bared over my knee,” I tell her, eyeing her with firm warning. “No pouting, baby.”
She sighs and turns back to the fish. If we had plants, she’d talk to them, too, and I’d fucking love it. Christ, I love everything about her.
“Chandra,” I say from our bedroom a few minutes later, when I’m ready for her. “Come here, please.” It takes effort to keep my voice steady. My hands are a hopeless cause. They shake in anticipation, my heart thudding so madly in my chest I wonder if she can hear me. I hear her say good-bye to her fish, then she makes her way to me. I want to capture this moment in my mind forever. I never want to forget the way she looks when she knows what I’m about to do.
When she comes into the room, she pauses in the doorway. The flicker of the candles on the bedside tables reflect in her eyes, wide open with wonder. She brings her hand up, and her fingers delicately cover her mouth in surprise.
“Axle?” she whispers. “What…is this?”
Nothing but candlelight illuminates the room, but it’s enough that she can see the large vases teeming with crimson and white roses. I had so many delivered the whole room’s infused with the enchanting floral scent. Earlier when she was at the bookstore, I put all this in place so I was ready. Now, I just focus on her.
“It’s the next step,” I tell her. I swallow so my voice carries clear and strong across the room. I don’t want it to waver. I want her to know now and forever that I mean what I say. When I draw the small black velvet box from my pocket, her luminous eyes fill with unshed tears and I have to swallow that damn lump in my throat again.
The soft flicker of candlelight. Her breathing and mine. The silent question that hangs before us, and the answer that will change the course of our lives forever.
“You know, a part of me’s still pretty damn traditional,” trying to make light of this, but when I drop to one knee and she sniffs, I have to take in a deep breath.
“I lost you once, Chandra. And now I have you back. I don’t ever want to lose you again.” I open the box. The diamond I chose glitters in the candlelight. She gasps. “I want you by my side for the rest of my life. I want to raise children with you. I want to see you grow and flourish into the woman you were always meant to become, and I want to be the man that is with you every step of the way.”
She walks over to me on trembling legs. I hold the ring up to her and meet her eyes.
Now that I’ve begun, my voice holds strong and confident. “Will you marry me?”
When she blinks, one tear rolls down her cheek. “Yes. Yes! I will marry you. I want all those things too.” To my surprise, she kneels beside me and places her forehead on my shoulder. “I feel the same. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”
Four months later
We don’t believe in long engagements. “We waited this long,” I tell her, and she finishes, “we don’t need to wait any longer.”
We say our vows in a little chapel tucked away amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, attended only by our closest club friends as witnesses. I said vows once before, but I’ve forgiven myself for the sins I’ve committed. Sometimes our paths take twists and turns we don’t expect. Sometimes, the plans that we lay go astray.
For years, I prayed for forgiveness. And the answer to that prayer holds my hands while I slip a ring on her finger.
She’s every bit the princess in a gorgeous white dress she calls a “sheath” dress but I don’t care what she calls it. A dress is a dress, and today, Chandra becomes my wife. That’s all that matters.
After the ceremony, we sip champagne and eat food, but I don’t remember what we ate or what was said. My sole focus was on her. The way her musical laugh lights up the room around us. The way she sits with her head on my shoulder and reaches for my hand when Marla gives a toast that has everyone in the room wiping away tears. The way her cheeks blush when I whisper what I plan to do to my wife when I get her alone.
My wife.
Six months later
“Baby?” I open the door to our apartment and look for her but don’t hear her at first. Then her muffled voice comes from the bathroom.
“In here,” she say
s, but her voice is barely audible. I go to her, concerned that she doesn’t sound so good.
“Chandra, you alright?” I ask at the door.
“Come in,” she groans. Heartbeat pounding, I open the door. She’s kneeling, her arm resting against the toilet seat, one arm resting against her forehead.
“What’s the matter, honey?” I ask her, kneeling beside her. “Trying to recreate our reunion?”
She laughs her musical laugh and gives me a watery smile.
“Sure,” she says. “Let’s go with that.”
I brush her damp hair off her forehead and kiss her temple. “Can I get you anything?”
Leaning back so she’s sitting on her feet, her hands dropped onto her lap, she nods. “Yes, please. On that shelf up there? Right next to the sink? Hand it to me?”
For some reason she doesn’t meet my eyes. Curious, I reach for the shelf and freeze when my hand meets a thin white stick. I know what it is before I see the two pink lines in the little windows.
I drop to my knees in front of her. I don’t trust myself to speak. She needs me to be strong and I’m gonna lose my shit if I open my mouth right now.
“April,” she whispers. “Right around Easter.”
Spring. New hope. New life. A new beginning.
“Baby,” I whisper, gathering her up in my arms.
“Yes,” she says with a laugh. “A baby.”
“Don’t you think for a minute this means you don’t get your ass spanked now,” I tease her. “Every study I’ve ever read tells us pregnancy doesn’t change much.” There are a few things. Lighter implements. Less impact play. But there’s plenty we can do.
“And don’t you think for a minute that just because I’m pregnant I don’t need you to dom me.”
I grip her hair and pull. “Deal.” Her mouth parts when I pull her head back.
