by Rebel Rose
“Omigod, yesss.”
I advance my fingers deeper, my fingertips grazing the string of her IUD, and I’m reminded of what Cat told me about leaving it alone and everything would be fine. But if I pull the string, the birth control device could come out. And Emma Lia could become pregnant.
A pregnancy.
A baby. Our baby.
I’d have her. And when she pulls the working key, it won’t matter. She wouldn’t leave me if we were having a baby.
She. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me.
But she would be furious when she figured out that I was responsible. She might hate me for making that kind of choice without her. If she found out.
The consequences of my decision would be a life-altering change for both of us. Would I consider doing something so extreme? Create an innocent life to be used as a pawn for holding onto the woman that I’m obsessed with? I realize how demented it is, even for a ruthless bastard like me.
But I always get what I want. And I’m not ruling anything out at this point.
15
Emma Lia Grant
Three days without Tristan. Fuck, I didn’t think it was possible to miss him so much in such a short amount of time.
A problem popped up with the Vegas project, and he wanted me to go. Ordered me. Commanded me. He may have even resorted to a small amount of begging and pleading, but I couldn’t skip out on my nana. Not when it’s her seventy-fifth birthday.
I’ve enjoyed spending time with my family and friends these last few days. Being back in Biloxi has been fun, but I miss Tristan. I miss New Orleans. And he misses me based on his last text.
Tristan: I should be home by 7:00. I want you in our bedroom on your knees, ready to suck my cock when I walk through the door. And I want it deep.
Emma Lia: Do you want me naked or wearing lingerie?
Tristan: Naked. I don’t have the patience for undressing you tonight.
Emma Lia: I will be ready for you, Master. Naked and kneeling, my mouth eager for your cock.
Tristan: That’s my good girl.
Oh, Tristan. There isn’t another man in the world like him.
Most women would be insulted or offended by his harsh words, but his orders only manage to make me wet with anticipation. But there are two words in his text that stand out to me like none other.
Our bedroom.
There is no longer Tristan’s bedroom with his submissive’s bedroom next door. We share one room. One bed. One bathroom. We have breakfast together in the mornings, and then he goes to work, leaving me at home like a trophy wife. He comes home in the evenings, and we share dinner before going to bed and fucking like savages. Unless it’s a vanilla night. He’s been offering those to me more and more lately. At first, I thought it was so he could get laid without giving me a key pull, but I’m beginning to think that he enjoys vanilla more than I do.
We live like a married couple, except kinkier. And I like it. I’m content with being Tristan’s submissive… who he often fucks in the ass.
Seven o’clock approaches, and I take my place on the floor beside our bed. I know that I might have to stay this way for a while, but Tristan will reward me when he sees the reddened impressions on my knees and lower legs.
I’ve only been on my knees for a few minutes when there’s a knock on the bedroom door. “Miss…”
It’s Ray’s voice at the door. “Just a minute,” I call out.
I panic mildly as I quickly pull on a pair of yoga pants and oversized T-shirt. Ray never comes to our bedroom for any reason.
I answer the door and Ray’s face is apologetic. “I’m sorry to bother you when Mr. Broussard is on his way home, but his father has just arrived. I thought that you might want to receive him since you’re the lady of the house.”
The lady of the house? I guess that must be a nice way of calling me the woman who is currently fucking the gentleman of the house.
“Yes. I should receive him, but not like this. Would you tell him that I’ll be out in a moment?”
“Certainly, miss.”
I change quickly into a casual dress and ballerina flats, leaving my hair and makeup as it is. Thank goodness I was ready for Tristan’s arrival so that much is done.
I’m suddenly nervous as I descend the stairs to meet the man that my father wanted me to avoid. And I still don’t know why. Perhaps meeting Mr. Broussard will shed some light on that.
Ray is standing at the bottom of the stairs when I reach the first floor. “He’s waiting in the library.”
“Thank you.”
Tristan’s father is standing with his back to me, holding the photo of Tristan with his mother, but he spins around rapidly when he hears the creak of the wood plank flooring beneath my feet.
Despite the thirty-something-year age gap, I’m immediately taken aback by Tristan’s resemblance to him. By blood, this man is the brother of Tristan’s mother. I wouldn’t have expected him to share so many similarities. It’s like seeing a preview of what Tristan will look like in his sixties.
“Miss Grant?”
He knows my name? “Yes, I’m Emma Lia. It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Broussard.”
“Emma Lia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
Oh, I can see right now that this one is charming. “Thank you, Mr. Broussard. Tristan tells me the same thing.”
He returns the photograph to its place on the table. “How old are you, dear?”
Well, he doesn’t waste any time getting down to it. “Twenty-two.”
“Mmm… so young. Much younger than my son.”
“Fourteen years. It felt like a much larger age gap before I came to know Tristan, but now it feels like nothing.” I don’t even think about it anymore.
“How well do you know my son? Or rather how well does he know you?”
“We’ve only known one another for a few months, but we spend a lot of time together. We’ve come to know one another quite well.”
He stares at me, making me feel a bit self-conscious. “I’m not sure what it is, but something about you reminds me of my sweet Lisette.”
I don’t recall Tristan mentioning anyone by that name. “Lisette?”
“She was Tristan’s mother.”
“Oh.” Lisette Broussard. What a pretty name. But the way Joseph Broussard said it led me to believe that he was speaking about a beloved rather than his deceased sister.
“Tell me, Miss Grant. Does my son know you well enough to see you for the greedy little cunt that you are?”
Whoa, wait. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a greedy little cunt who is after my son’s money. At least admit it.”
This is completely out of left field. “I’m not after anything from Tristan.”
“Every money-hungry bitch that I’ve ever met has said that.”
I can’t believe the one-eighty in this man. “I have plenty of my own money. I don’t need Tristan’s.”
“And where did your money come from, Miss Grant?”
His tone leads me to believe that he knows quite a bit about me. “That’s my business.”
“I know who you are. I know your good-for-nothing father, and I know your whore grandmother. All of you are nothing but a bunch of cheats and thieves.”
We are cheats in the casinos. I can’t deny that, but I’m not going to stand here and be insulted. “Tristan will be home soon. You may wait here if you’d like to see him, but you and I are done talking.”
I turn to leave, and I’m only about three steps toward the library doorway when I’m grabbed from behind and pushed face-first against the wall, pinned from behind. “No one walks away from me.”
I buck wildly to loosen his hold on me, but he’s surprisingly stout for a man of his age. “What do you think you are doing? Take your hands off of me.”
“Listen to me, whore. You are going to leave this house and never see my son again.”
“Take your hands off of me.” I twist and use my hip to try to knock him off balanc
e, but instead, his grip on the back of my neck tightens until the pain is excruciating. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”
He chuckles against my ear. “I would expect one of my son’s women to have a higher tolerance for pain.”
He knows what Tristan is?
He grasps my arm and twists to the point that it feels like the bone might snap at any second. “Listen to me carefully, Miss Grant. Your relationship with my son ends now. You’ll never see him again.”
Because my arm is in so much pain, I can hardly hear what he’s saying. I have to make the pain end, and I do so by slamming my head backward, making contact with the center of his face.
“You fucking bitch.”
The collision of my skull with his is hard. Maybe a little too hard since I’m seeing stars. But the stars don’t stop me from seeing the drops of blood collecting on the wood flooring. I’m not sure if the blood is his or mine. Probably mine since I suddenly feel lightheaded.
“Raaay…” I try to call out for help, but my voice is muffled when Joseph Broussard’s hand comes around to cover my mouth.
He drags me from the hallway back into the library, and I lose one of my ballet slippers on the rug as I struggle against him.
“Get the fuck off of her,” Tristan roars as his father’s body is yanked off of me. Pure physical exhaustion takes over the muscles in my body, and I crumble boneless to the floor. And that’s where I’m lying when Tristan punches his father, sending him to the floor. “Never touch her.”
Joseph Broussard is lying on the floor only a few feet away, glaring at me. “She’s Conrad Grant’s daughter. A cheat. A thief.”
“Get the fuck out of my house. Now, before I kill you for putting your hands on her.”
“Son…”
Ray rushes into the library. “Sir…”
“Ray, would you please escort my father to the door?”
Tristan’s arms are around me instantly, lifting me from the floor and cradling me like a baby as he carries me up the staircase. He kicks the door shut behind us when he enters the bedroom and gently lowers me to the bed. But I don’t release my hold around his neck. If anything, I squeeze tighter. “Don’t let go of me, Tristan.”
I need to feel Tristan’s soothing touch, his gentle, yet firm hold. My Dom’s protective embrace is what I yearn for.
He stretches out on the bed and lies beside me, pulling my body close to his. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I didn’t know he was coming, and even if I had, there’s no way I could have predicted that out of him. I’ve never known him to do anything like that.”
“I don’t understand what happened. I didn’t say or do anything to provoke him. I only answered his questions. I swear.”
“Your father warned you to stay away from us but wouldn’t tell you why. I’ve never had any kind of problems with Conrad, so I can’t be the reason that he hates the Broussards. It must go back to something that happened between your father and mine. I’m convinced of that after seeing that explosive episode out of my father.”
I didn’t care why my father hated the Broussards, but Joseph Broussard’s attack changes everything. “I have to know what provoked your father to lash out at me that way. And I’m going to find out from my dad.”
“I’m going with you; I need to know what happened too.”
My father opens the front door and pulls me into his arms, squeezing me as though we’ve not seen each other in forever although I just spent the last three days with him and the family. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
He releases me and looks me over from head to toe. “Did that bastard hurt you?”
How does he know that anything happened to me?
I look at Tristan for an explanation. “I called Conrad while you were changing clothes.”
Tristan didn’t tell me that he had spoken with Dad.
I smile, not mentioning that my neck, head, and arm are throbbing and aching. “I’m a tough cookie. You know that.”
“I know, but you’re still my little girl, and I don’t like hearing that you’ve been hurt in any kind of way.”
“I’m okay, Dad. Really. Tristan stopped him before he was able to do much to me.” Lie. That man was able to do plenty that hurt before Tristan came in and stopped him.
“Thank you for protecting my little girl.”
“It’s my place to protect her, and I hate that I wasn’t there to keep him from laying a single finger on her.”
A part of me blossoms every time I hear him profess his role as my protector.
My father looks at Tristan, his eyes slightly narrowing. I’m certain that he’s dissecting his words and what they mean. I pray that he doesn’t suspect the origin. I would die if he ever found out that I was Tristan’s submissive. And then Tristan would die. Because Dad would kill him.
Dad, Nana, Tristan, and I move into the living room. I sit close to Tristan on the sofa, his hand possessively resting on my thigh. Our nearness and physical contact doesn’t escape my dad and Nana’s attention. I see it in the way they’re studying us.
“Do you and Tristan’s father have some kind of bad history?”
My dad breathes in deeply and sighs. “Not exactly. My history is with his younger sister, Lisette.”
“You knew my mother?” Tristan asks.
“Yes. I knew Lisette well. She was my girlfriend. My first love.”
Dad’s girlfriend? His first love?
I recall what Tristan said about his biological father—that his mother never named his father—and I immediately have a sickening feeling in my gut.
Please don’t. Please don’t say those words. Please don’t say that you are Tristan’s father. He can’t be my brother. Not after the things that we’ve done together.
Tristan’s hand grips my leg, and I know that he must be thinking the same thing.
“Mom was a blackjack dealer at Broussard’s Vegas casino. That’s where I met Lisette.”
I look at Tristan, but his eyes stare straight ahead. He won’t even look at me.
“I was practicing my card-counting skills at a blackjack table one night, and Lisette sat beside me. She threw some hundreds on the table and joined the game. I had no idea who she was or that she was only sixteen.”
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“Damn, she was gorgeous. That olive-tone skin and those pale blue eyes. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
The Broussards. They are a beautiful people.
“A month went by before she told me who she was. But it didn’t matter by then. I didn’t care that she was the younger sister of the casino owner or that she was only sixteen. I was completely smitten with her. But Joseph cared. In fact, he cared a lot. The man cared far more than he should have.”
Tristan fidgets next to me, unable to sit still.
“Joseph was sixteen years older than Lisette and had been raising her for a couple of years following the death of their parents. At first, I thought Joseph was simply an overprotective brother, but as time passed, I began to see a very unnatural relationship between them. Joseph didn’t act like her older brother or even a father figure as one would expect. He behaved like a jealous lover.”
Tristan’s grip tightens on my thigh and when I look at him, I see that the carotid in the side of his neck is pumping like crazy.
“Lisette didn’t tell anyone that she was pregnant with you. She was sixteen and scared to death… so she did what a child does. She lived in denial for months, pretending that the pregnancy wasn’t real, but there came a day when she was too far along to deny it anymore. Everyone thought I was the father, but that wasn’t possible. I never touched her that way. But I know who did.”
I place my hand on top of Tristan’s, wrapping it around his tightly. He’s gone thirty-six years without knowing who his father was. And now he’s finally going to know.
My dad moves to the edge of his chair and turns so he’s directly facing Trist
an. “There is no easy way to say this to you.” My dad looks at Nana and then back at Tristan. “Joseph Broussard was sexually abusing your mother. And he is your biological father.”
“No,” Tristan says beneath his breath.
“She confided in me when she could no longer hide the pregnancy. I told Mom and we reported the abuse, but Joseph had more than enough money to make his problems go away. He fired Mom from her job as a dealer and had some of his thugs beat me to within an inch of my life. They beat me to the point where I almost died. I imagine that this episode with him tonight stems from my knowing his dirty little secret. He wanted Emma Lia out of your life because he’s afraid of exactly what’s happening right now—his exposure. I don’t enjoy causing you pain, but nothing gives me more pleasure than exposing that sick bastard for what he did to Lisette.”
“He told me she died in a drunk-driving accident.”
“There was no car accident. She overdosed on sleeping pills.”
Tristan is silent and unmoving for a moment before he pulls his hand away from mine and stands. “I need a minute to myself if you’ll excuse me.”
My heart hurts for Tristan. It truly aches in a way that I’ve never experienced for another person until this moment. I can’t imagine how Tristan must be feeling right now.
“I know you don’t like Tristan, but still, that must have been a gut-wrenching thing to tell him.”
“Tristan is part of Lisette, and I cared for her dearly. For that reason, it’s not possible for me to hate him, but he does have his father in him. And that part inside him scares me for you.”
“Tristan is very good to me, Dad. He treats me like a queen.”
“He’d better,” my dad says. “I wouldn’t tolerate you being mistreated by him. And I’ll kill Joseph if he puts his hands on you again.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Not after seeing the way Tristan went after Joseph.” He chose to protect me without hearing anything that his father had to say.
I get up from the sofa, anxious to check on Tristan. “I need to make sure he’s all right. And if I had to guess, we won’t be coming back inside.”
