Why not someone else?
But Tage didn’t cause my mother’s cancer. He wasn’t to blame for my pregnancy. He and his privileged life, as my father assumed, didn’t stack up the unpaid bills or give me a reason to have unprotected sex.
My daddy simply allowed his grief and loss to become fury and vengeance.
Fury and vengeance that were quite possibly unforgivable.
The bitterness in his voice only escalated the anger raging inside me.
“Daddy, I understand you were hurt. I do. We both were. But it takes two to have sex,” I said quickly. “Tage never forced me to do a damn thing I didn’t want to do. I loved him, and he loved me. He didn’t walk away from me. You lied to his father, your daughter, and ultimately your granddaughter. All these years, I’ve made myself sick trying to figure out why he didn’t want any part of Melli. I’ve cried myself to sleep a hundred times wondering how I’m supposed to explain to my daughter the reasoning behind her father not wanting to be involved in her life, and how to assure her it had nothing to do with her Down’s. You were wrong to do that, Daddy. You hurt me. You hurt Tage. You kept a little girl from her father. And you extorted money from Nathan Morgan. I’ll never condone what you did.”
“To hell with Tage,” he snapped so viciously that I could almost feel it through the phone. “And the rest of that family. Those people have more money than Christ himself. And I had debt to pay off, Ava. I still have debt. Your mother and I never took out any medical insurance. Didn’t think we needed it. I was in over my head. I had bills growing out my damn ears and no way to pay them. I was going to lose the house your mother and I built together. I couldn’t even pay the damn taxes. I deserved that money,” he said with an angry laugh that sickened me. “But you need to know that more than half was set aside in a trust for Melli. What I didn’t use on medical expenses, I put in an account for my granddaughter.”
“Daddy,” I whispered, tearing up. “I’m sorry about the medical bills. I know my situation only added to the problem. But what you did was unconscionable.”
“Doesn’t matter now, sweetheart. Just please tell me you aren’t involved with that boy again.”
“Yes, Daddy. It matters.”
I pushed off the couch and walked toward Melli’s room, suddenly needing to see my daughter. She sat at her pink Cinderella table and chairs with the boombox inches in front of her face, this time Harry Styles streaming from the speakers. Were Tage and I involved? Did men like Tage get involved? I hadn’t heard from him. Not since I ushered him to the front door three days ago, where he’d walked directly to his car and driven off without ever looking back. Did that make me involved with Tage?
I really had no idea.
Melli had been doing nothing but asking questions. Can Tage come listen to music with me? Can Tage come watch me dance? Can Tage come eat pizza with us? She was curious, suspicious, smart, and in this case too much so. She suspected he was someone more important than just a casual friend. She hadn’t spoken the words, but I knew she did. I absolutely knew.
And by the night’s end, she was going to know the truth.
I leaned over and kissed her head of tangled curls, earning me a heart-shattering smile, then quietly left her room to finish the hardest phone call I would ever have with my dad.
“I don’t know if we’re involved or not, Daddy. He’s met his daughter. The next move is up to him.”
Ten minutes later, my stomach was in painful knots, emotions bubbling inside me like a warm mountain stream after a heavy rain. My own parent spreading ugly lies and keeping a family apart was a hard pill to swallow. I’d ended our conversation letting him know that right now I had no plans for Melli or myself to see him again until I’d talked to Melli and told her the truth. And even then, I was unsure of the future where my father was involved, or if there was one. He’d chosen money and deceit over his own granddaughter’s emotional well-being.
Was that forgivable?
I peeked inside the oven door and reached for an oven mitt. Frozen pancetta and arugula-topped pizza were a personal favorite of Melli’s. In mere minutes, I planned on explaining who Tage was, hoping like hell I could stay in one piece as I tried my best to give her an explanation that she could understand.
“Pizza! Dope!” Melli skipped through the kitchen with the boombox in her hands that she’d barely turned off since Tage had given it to her, rap music blaring again.
“How about we turn the music off for now? I want to hear all about your day at school.” I pulled the pizza out, the side of my hand sliding over the hot oven rail.
“Dammit!” I screeched as the pizza slid in a messy heap to the floor, splattering bubbling hot cheese on the lower cabinetry. “Shit!”
“Those are cuss words, Mommy,” Melli said with wide eyes. “Uncle Adam says we shouldn’t use them. Ever.”
“Uncle Adam is absolutely correct. Darn it,” I said, rubbing at the newly forming burn on the side of my hand and doing my best not to burst into tears. “Sorry about the pizza, sweet girl. How about we jump in the car and go get your second favorite food?”
“Chinese! Chinese! Yippy!”
In the next thirty minutes, I was going to be staring at my daughter and having the most difficult discussion I’d ever had with her. Melli knew Lance wasn’t her biological father. I chose to tell her several months ago after she asked why we couldn’t still be married. I had known since the first days of our marriage that I would be honest with Melli.
I planned on keeping it that way.
Confused and nervous, I cleaned up the mess on the floor and rubbed some Neosporin on my hand, trying to figure out how I was going to get through the next hour … and my next visit with Tage. He may not want to see me or Melli again, but no ifs, ands, or buts about it, he was going to see me. At least once more. Lance’s weekend was coming up. Saturday night, I planned on paying a visit to Tage.
I needed to know where we stood as a couple … or if we were a couple.
****
Tage
One thing I had learned from being self-employed was that intelligence came in many different levels. Some people were word smart. Some were sound smart or number smart. But my Melli … this girl was sharp as a fucking tack. She was interpersonal.
Sure as the sun would cross the sky, my little girl knew I was her biological father.
“I have a daughter,” I stated with a hard tone. “With Ava Montgomery.”
“Do the fuck what? You’re shitting me!” Davis dropped his fork onto the plate and swiped a napkin across his mouth. “You never said a word about having a child. I had no idea.”
“I never mentioned her,” I snapped, “because I didn’t know. Melli is seven years old.”
“Seven? Jesus in fucking hell, man. You were just a kid then. So, what now? What’s she like? Have you met her?”
“I have. And she’s beautiful just like her mother. She’s smart as hell and s—she,” I paused, choking on the words I couldn’t yet speak. “She’s wonderful, Davis. Absolutely fucking perfect.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Davis leaned back in his chair, a smug grin creeping up his face. “I’ll bet you my right nut that this ends up being one of those sickly romantic sagas.”
“Christ, Davis!” I shoved both hands through the sides of hair. “I don’t do romance. You know this better than anyone.”
Anger simmered through me again. I couldn’t get a grasp on this mix of feelings. I felt like I was smothering. So much motherfucking rage still boiled inside me that I couldn’t shake it. I wanted to beat the hell out of someone. Demolish something. Scream at the top of my lungs until somebody made me understand why. And how. I wanted to take all my baby girl’s future trials and tribulations away and make her world a good place. A safe place. A happy place.
I loved every cell in her tiny little body. She was already my heroin. My finest wine. My weakness.
I’d die to make her life a good one.
Three nights ago, I
’d allowed Ava to practically boot my ass out the door like some weak ass pussy. I’d returned to my car with a hundred questions buzzing in my head, and driving straight to The Lodge, only to meander aimlessly around the club for forty-five minutes, then stop for a few seconds to watch a sub on her knees, her hands bound, saliva trailing down her chin as a Dom shoved his cock down her throat in hard, wicked thrusts. I’d walked out the door more agitated than when I had arrived.
A little over a week ago, I was content with my life. I had a growing business. Money in the bank. Friends. Women. I was in control.
But today, what I saw in the mirror was a person tainted, scorned. And no longer the man he wanted to be.
I felt like a mixed-up confused mess inside, and trying to figure out my next move was like attempting to solve the world’s problems. Discover a cure for cancer. End poverty and hunger.
I didn’t have a fucking clue where to go from here.
“Motherfuck.” I swallowed the last drops of a second cold Heineken and threw some cash on the table. At this moment, I didn’t give a damn about Michael Kavanagh and his lies. I no longer cared about Nathan Morgan and his attempted apologies, or all the false bullshit we’d both been fed. None of it mattered. It couldn’t be reversed. Right now, the only thing of importance was the future, and giving my daughter and her mother the best life this world had to offer.
Fifteen minutes after finishing up a quick bite with Davis and discussing a few more specifics about the deal we were, I hoped, days from wrapping up with a new real estate developer, I was heading home, dialing Ava after she’d sent me a text asking to see me.
Her voice mail picked up.
Fuck.
Every aspect of who I was, and the man behind this heart of stone, was nothing but a chaos of confusion that I no longer had a grip on. Bottom line was that I wanted my daughter in my life. Her mother in my life. But could Ava ever concede to how cruel and savage I could become? How I had to be at times?
Could she trust me?
Would she submit to me?
Chapter Eleven
Tage
“Ava.” A sweet cherry with an underlying vanilla aroma followed me as I stepped around her, reaching for the purse clutched tight against her breast, and purposely brushing my chest against her nipples. Stunning, and even more beautiful than when I’d seen her a week ago, she reminded me of a divine goddess.
“Find the house okay?” When she demanded she drive herself, I had texted her my street address, attaching a Google map.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Indeed you are. How is Melli?”
Warmth spread in my chest just at the mention of her name. I missed her so damned bad and had so much time to make up for.
“She’s fine, Tage. She misses you.”
“And I’ve missed her.” I’ve missed you both.
Annihilated with a crushing need to touch her and kiss Ava’s soft, pouty lips, I slid a hand up the smooth length of her thigh, meeting nothing but a thin strip of lace and silky dampness underneath her skirt. “Micro thong, Ava?” I asked, knowing it would fluster her, yet unable to resist. “Is this your way of seducing me?”
She flinched, pulling away, exactly as I’d known she would. “Go to hell, Tage.”
Contrary damn woman. One day she wouldn’t get away with that mouth.
I caught her chin so she had nowhere else to go with her gaze. “I’ll see you there, sweetheart,” I responded icily. “But in Hell or on Earth, underneath that lovely dress and that Band-Aid of a thong, doesn’t hide the fact that you’re wet for me.”
I stared at her don’t give a fuck expression that I knew was nothing more than a sham, a sudden visual of fucking her right here against the wall filling my head. Yet, I was pretty well confident that if I broke out my dick right now, she’d have a knee against me.
Anger sparked in her gaze as she yanked her head back. “Fuck you, Tage,” she shrieked. “I mean it.”
Heat unfurled between my legs and in my spine, blood pounding along my cock. I bent down and brushed her cheek with my lips. “I intend to,” I answered coolly. “And I also mean it.”
With the air sizzling between us, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line. Tears flooded her eyes, not the emotional kind, but the mad as fucking hell kind. Damned if the spark in her temper wasn’t strangely turning me on. Ideas stormed my brain. Let her fight me. Fight her back. Bend her over my knees and redden her ass. Pull her in my arms and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her.
I took a thick handful of auburn curls, not brutally, but enough to end the fight in her, and forced her neck at an awkward slant. “Watch your tongue, woman,” I ordered. “If not, you may not enjoy the outcome as much as I will.”
I’ll hurt you. Bring oceans of tears to those pretty eyes. Cover your body with marks.
Her eyes glowed blue daggers as she sulked. “You don’t scare me, Tage. Not one bit.”
With her hair tightly coiled between my palm, I leaned into her, giving her a quick, unaffectionate kiss and carefully forcing myself not to tug on her hair as hard as I would have liked. “You should be scared, doll,” I whispered into the crook of that lovely neck of hers.
With her expression the perfect mix of unbalanced emotion, I held back a smile of satisfaction at the soft moan that followed my threat. “You’re such an emotionless bastard, Tage.”
“Yet, you’re here, Ava. And, hate me or otherwise, you’re wet. You want me every bit as much as I do you. Now take your dress off.” My words were harsh, short, and sarcastic. I released her hair and reached for her ass, grabbing both cheeks and pulling her against my cock. Before she could argue, my mouth crushed hers, meeting warm, slick softness. I kissed her possessively, then trailed my lips across her neck and underneath her ear. “I simply want to watch you strip for me. I won’t hurt you. Not unless you ask for it.”
Her eyes narrowed, still laced with anger, but dilated with hunger, which I knew she was trying like hell to deny. “Strip for you? God, your manners are about as impressive as that drumming erection you’ve got going there,” she said with an unsteadiness to her voice that came off as unguarded and vulnerable, instead of sure and confident like I suspected she’d intended. She jerked away, her face flushed and beautiful, and aimed at me with what I thought was a swing to my face.
Not happening, doll.
Her trivial stature being no challenge, I caught the arm in mid-air, listening to her breaths coming out like soft pants, and watching the rise and fall of her breasts and a glassiness covering her eyes. My dick throbbed against my zipper. She woke such a dark, bestial hunger in me. I wanted to feel the warm firmness of her sultry lips, hold her against my body, and drown in her damn scent.
“I don’t think either of us believes that, now do we, Ava? I’d be willing to bet my last dollar that you’ve gotten yourself off thinking about my cock.” Pink brushed her cheeks when my hand dropped her arm against my zipper and the heavy bulge behind it.
She stared up at me blankly, speechless, her hands at her sides in tight little fists. Rage still filled her eyes, but there was also something else behind the gaze of this beautiful woman that made me want to punish and protect her all at the same time. It agitated something unspeakable behind my chest. Something odd, something unknown. I didn’t put up with temper tantrums or emotional outbursts. I never had. I didn’t have to. But here I was—tolerating both.
“Come sit down with me.” I took her hand, which, surprisingly, she allowed, and walked her to the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Wine? Vodka perhaps?”
She flashed a small smile and took a seat, pulling her legs up underneath her and winding her arms around herself. She was just exactly where I wanted her—hesitant, skeptical, and concerned.
“I’m fine,” she breathed out with a nervous edge to her tone.
“Listen, Ava. We’re both adults here. Let’s be frank.” I shoved hands through my hair. “Is this something yo
u want? You? Me? Knowing who I am? What I am? I won’t sugarcoat this, sweetheart. And I’ll respect any decision you make.”
I stared deep into her eyes, perplexed by the great pain behind my chest at thoughts of not seeing her again, not touching her the way I wanted, and needed. A touch of panic pulsed through my veins. Mine. Be mine.
She fumbled with her fingernails, glancing nervously around the room and back at me.
“Talk to me, doll. God knows I want to try this thing. But I can’t change the man I am.”
“I—I mean … is this all you ever do, Tage?” Her voice was an anxious whisper. “Just sex and bondage? Every day? There’s never feelings involved? No regular sex? You don’t ever spend the day in bed making love and eating popcorn under the sheets? Or stare up at the stars with your lover’s feet tangling through yours? Sipping wine? Talking about … stuff?”
“Jag alskar inte, Ava. I don’t make love. Nor do I spend any of my nights gazing at the sky, playing footsie, or talking about stuff. I’m sorry. This is who I am.”
She hesitated, hugging at herself again. “Obviously you don’t think we’re compatible, Tage. Y—you…”
“And you think we are, Ava?” My heart raced in my chest as I stroked at the single tear on her cheek. “Nothing about this will be easy. I’ll hurt you. Bring tears to your eyes and make you do things you don’t want to do. Just say the word, and I’ll never mention it again.”
“I—it … no. No, Tage,” she uttered in little more than a whisper. “This … you … domination … control and bondage … it’s all I’ve thought about for years.”
I brushed a hand down her arm, lifting it and kissing her knuckles. “Sweetheart, do you truly understand the concept of a dominant lifestyle? Of sadism?”
“I think so,” she said with a shrug, breathing deep. “It’s hard to explain, but sometimes I think I want, or need, to hand over my power. Let someone make decisions for me, and maybe force me. But then I don’t want a man treating me like utter shit, humiliating me, or making me feel inferior. I’ve been down that path, and I won’t go there again.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Honestly though, I’m not altogether sure about the hurting part. I mean … I know I really liked it when you did that thing to my nipples, and that spanking on my…” A sweet blush lifted up her neck as her voice trailed. “I just don’t think I could handle anything tortuous like whips and canes, being choked out, and most certainly no plugs up my butt. And I know I would never wear some man’s collar or be a tamed circus pet.”
Intrigue Me Page 9
