Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 2)

by Rose Devereux

  “No, I’m – I’m inside having dinner.”

  He looked in the window directly at Dean, who sat watching us with his fork in his hand. “I see that. Who’s the guy?”

  “He’s a favor to a friend of mine.”

  “Well, he has knives coming out of his eyes. I don’t think he’s too excited to see me.” He paused, his gaze so intimate I was powerless to look away. “Are you?”

  Excited. He had no idea.

  In a matter of thirty seconds, I’d gone from thinking I’d never see him again to watching the snow fall in his hair. I was excited, thrilled, and terrified all at once. “Of course I am,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have business in town, but I really just wanted to see you.” He began unbuttoning his coat. “Take this. You’ll freeze standing out here like that.”

  “It was hot in there,” I said. “The air feels good.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” I blinked away a snowflake that landed in my lashes. “How long have you been in town? Why didn’t you call?”

  “A few days. I wanted to talk to you in person.”

  Though he was still the hottest man I’d ever seen, something about him had changed. He seemed more relaxed, less driven. I almost expected him to tell me that he’d found the submissive of his dreams and eloped to a tropical island.

  “What happened with the case?” he asked. “I told the prosecutor I could fly in to testify but I never heard from anyone.”

  “It’s over,” I said, feeling little of the bitterness that had plagued me in the weeks after the prosecutor’s call. “They said the case was too weak. No witnesses, my past relationship with Trevor, all the things in your apartment.”

  Marc shut his eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. What happened that day still tears me up. I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

  I shook my head, suddenly feeling stronger than I had in a long time. “You have to. Maybe the case didn’t go anywhere, but I don’t need to worry about seeing Trevor anymore. He’s moving to Asia. Already moved, actually.”

  Marc didn’t say anything; he just nodded slowly. I frowned and looked closely into his face.

  His look of triumph, his slight, somber smile – this wasn’t the first time he’d heard about Trevor’s job. It couldn’t be. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Do you know about this?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve come to New York more than once since you left France.”

  I could hardly keep my mouth from dropping open. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing much. I had lunch with Trevor’s boss, who knows one of my partners from a start-up they worked for years ago. He was concerned to hear that his employee strong-armed his way into my apartment and harassed someone I care about. He agreed it would be best to send Trevor to a small branch of the company where he can be monitored closely. I didn’t want him fired because then he’d stay in New York. The point was to get him away from you. For a long time.”

  Seconds went by before I could speak. “Did you tell anyone about –”

  Marc shook his head. “Nobody knows anything specific. And the only thing Trevor knows is that karma’s a bitch.”

  Yes, it was. Maybe life had a way of giving us exactly what we deserved.

  Overwhelmed with gratitude, I smiled. Marc had done it for me. He’d made sure I was protected. He hadn’t done anything crazy, he’d just exercised his options and erased Trevor from my life.

  “God, Marc. I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s how his parents reacted when Trevor’s boss called them yesterday. He thought they should know why he was transferred, and why he won’t work in his industry again if he comes back. And if that sounds like a trial without a jury, tough. I still might file suit against him, just to drain his bank account and watch him squirm.”

  I couldn’t help feeling a glow of relief. Trevor hadn’t gotten away scot-free, after all. Marc had made sure of it. “And I thought I wanted revenge,” I said.

  “If you want more, just say the word. I’m sure I can figure out some creative ways to make his life hell.”

  I laughed. “That’s quite an offer. Thank you.”

  “I just wish I could undo what he did to you. I wish I could undo a lot of things.” He took a step closer, making me feel small even in heels. “The last few months – my life is different, Sophie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My father’s near-death experience had quite the effect on him. He hasn’t had a drop to drink since his accident, for one thing. And he’s asked to hear about my mother’s letters to her lover. He’s ready to see his marriage for what it was.”

  “That’s good news,” I said. “I know it was important to you.”

  Marc smiled, his eyes searching mine. “But the most interesting part is that he can’t keep anything to himself anymore, even things he kept quiet for years.”

  My teeth began to chatter lightly, from nerves as much as cold. “Really?”

  “I think you understand what I’m talking about,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  There was no mistaking what he meant. Somehow, he knew. I’d done exactly as Eleanor asked, and it hadn’t protected him from anything.

  “Marc, please forgive me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to find out – actually, that’s not true. I saw a note from your mother that hinted at something to do with you. I used looking for the lost letter as an excuse to go through your father’s things. It was a terrible thing to do. I should have told you.”

  “No,” he said, grabbing my half-frozen hands. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “I promised Eleanor I’d never say anything. She said it would devastate you.”

  “She told me,” he said. “We’ve had a lot of heated discussions about it. They’re still my family and that’ll never change, but honesty is first with me. They know that now.”

  “I think she was trying to do what’s best for you.”

  “She was trying to do what’s best for herself, but at least she’s being straight with me now. It’s a start.”

  I couldn’t help but feel vindicated. Eleanor may have silenced me, but she hadn’t counted on her father’s change of heart. “How did her auction go?” I asked.

  “It hasn’t happened, and I don’t think it will. We didn’t expect so much publicity to come from what you wrote. I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but it generated a lot of controversy in Europe about her plans to sell French heirlooms to some foreign billionaire looking for a trophy. It made her think about what matters. It’s funny – now everybody knows I’m a descendent of Sade’s just when it turns out I’m not. But people can think what they like. I know what the truth is.”

  I smiled at him. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, rubbing his gloved thumbs over my knuckles. “You and I have a lot in common, losing our mothers young. But what we had – I always knew it was deeper than sex. I knew it the first time I met you.”

  He looked at me as if a gaze alone could wipe out months of confusion and heartbreak. “This is going to sound crazy, and it probably is. I want you to come back with me.”

  They were the words I’d been longing to hear for weeks -- and they scared the hell out of me. “Marc…”

  “For a week or two,” he broke in. “Just to see.”

  “To see what?” I asked, wrenching my hands free. “If you change your mind about me again?”

  “No,” he said. “To see if you change yours.”

  “But you said…my effect on you…”

  Snow swirled around us, giving me the eerie sense that I was dreaming. “Your effect on me is the same, but I’m not,” he said. “I’ve been operating under an illusion half my life. Finding out who I was – I finally had to stop blaming other people for my actions. It’s been a hard couple of months. Hard and long overdue.”

  “So, trying to be someone else? That’s over?”

  “Yes,” he s
aid, without hesitation. “I’m done lying to myself, and to you. You’re strong enough to decide what you want.”

  Dean was looking on from the table, light reflecting off his high forehead. I could almost hear his thoughts as he sat watching us. I should have known she was a dud when she didn’t ask questions about my poetry.

  “I don’t know,” I said, turning back to Marc. “I have a career. I have a life.”

  It wasn’t much of a life without him, but I’d spent almost four months scrapping and struggling for it. I couldn’t give it up that quickly, without taking time to think.

  “I understand. I put you through a lot.”

  “Not just me. Both of us.”

  He slid his fingers around my upper arms. I hadn’t realized I was shivering until I felt his warmth through my dress. “Can you get away from work for a few days?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “I just…who are you now? Which man would I be going back to Paris with?”

  He leaned forward and pressed his cheek to mine. “You already know, Pet,” he whispered, his words like fire against my ear. “You knew as soon as you saw me tonight.”

  Pet. Though my heart threatened to melt in my chest, I had to be careful. I reacted to those three letters the way other women did to the word “love.”

  “I have to go,” I said, stepping backward out of his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

  He clutched my wrist. “Meet me at JFK tomorrow night, eight o’clock, the Air France terminal. I have a ticket for you. Now, hug me like an old friend. We wouldn’t want your date to think you’re flirting with someone else. I’ve been in his shoes, and it’s no fun at all.”

  I put my arms around his neck and sank against him, thinking of nothing, wanting nothing. All I could feel was his heat and his strength. The world could have ended and I’d have gone on holding him until we were dragged apart.

  “Eight o’clock tomorrow,” he said when I finally pulled away. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Brushing the snow from my hair, I turned toward the door of the restaurant.

  When I looked back, Marc was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  One week later…

  I’ve been back in Paris for six days. And still Marc will not make love to me.

  “No,” he says, gently pushing me away. “Not yet.”

  “When?” I ask.

  “When it’s time. You’ll be the first to know when I decide.”

  He goes to the office for a few hours, comes back, and takes me shopping, spending the entire afternoon helping me choose lingerie and jewelry. But he won’t let me wear any of it, won’t even glance in my direction if I defy him and emerge from the bathroom wearing a satin merry widow with the leather collar around my neck.

  “I have work to do,” he says. He’s sitting on the bed with his legs stretched in front of him, eyes fixed on his iPad.

  “You won’t look? Even for a second?”

  “I don’t have to,” he says. “I’m hard just hearing your voice.”

  I’m not allowed to come to bed naked.

  Every night before we go to sleep he gives me a single kiss, the one thing that sustains me and gives me hope.

  “Things will be different from now on,” he says that night as we lie in the dark.

  “How?”

  “There’s nothing in our way anymore. The guilt and shame are gone. So is my reserve. It means our relationship will become very intense.”

  “It was intense before,” I say.

  “But until now, we’ve just been playing at domination and submission, haven’t we?”

  “It was playing when you cropped me and tied me up?”

  He strokes my back with long, soothing caresses. “Our physical connection is only part of it. The mental element is even more important. If you aren’t emotionally submissive to me, then you aren’t mine at all.”

  “Emotionally submissive – you mean, you tell me what to do and I do it? I thought you weren’t interested in that.”

  “I’m not. I’m talking about trust, Sophie. Knowing you’ve given me every part of yourself. That you trust me with your life.”

  “I’ve shown that, haven’t I?”

  “Face me,” he says. “I want to look at you.”

  I turn over and slide closer to him, my face inches from his. I can feel the warmth radiating from his golden skin.

  “I want you to imagine something, okay?” he says. “Imagine that, a day after meeting me, I sat at dinner with you and came on to someone else to make you jealous.”

  “But that was months ago, and –”

  “Just listen. And then imagine I had an ex-girlfriend who came to Paris to see me, and I didn’t tell you about it. And after she caused a lot of trouble for us, you found me with the waitress who’d served us dinner. Four months later when you flew halfway across the world to see me, you discovered that I was having dinner with yet another woman. How would you feel? Would you start to wonder if you could trust me?”

  My stomach roils with shame. If I hadn’t tried to get a reaction from him, or protect him from the truth, or forget how much I loved him, none of those things would have happened.

  But now I understand. With his background, seeing the woman who raised him cheat and lie, it’s no wonder he’s lost faith in me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m surprised you trust me at all.”

  “I’ll be honest, Sophie. It’s difficult. But I’d like to change that.”

  “How?”

  “It’ll take more than letting me bind you. I’ll need your absolute faith and obedience.”

  I feel the strange thrill of fear, anxiety tinged with head-spinning anticipation. “I promise I won’t do those things again,” I say.

  “I want to see that promise put into action,” he says, and kisses me. I open my mouth for him, rubbing against him to tempt a hard-on, but he’s unaffected.

  “It’s been almost a week,” I whisper, running my hand along his jaw.

  “And before that, almost four months,” he says. “We can wait a little longer. I want to be sure you’re ready.”

  “I am,” I insist. “Completely.”

  “Maybe,” he says, turning over to sleep. “We’ll see.”

  We’re going somewhere – that much I know.

  In the morning, I find a note on the nightstand. Be ready at seven, M.

  There’s a silk blouse and navy miniskirt on top of the dresser, along with the usual sexy accompaniments – sheer stockings, lace bikini panties, and a matching corset with Swarovski crystals sewn along the bodice.

  Inside a drawstring chiffon bag is a stunning emerald choker, more collar than necklace, with heavy platinum links that make my throat look small and white.

  I have an entire day ahead with nothing to do but wonder what’s coming. There’s no way to prepare except to do as I’m told.

  Lying in the bathtub in the late afternoon, my hands shake with insatiable desire and the strong sense that everything is about to change. While the hours seemed to creep by this morning, now they rush past, leaving me little time to prepare for – what?

  I dry my hair and put on makeup, darkening my lips with a red stain that will last through deep kisses and blow-jobs. The corset is tight and hard to tie but it gives me a perfect hourglass shape. I slip into the skirt and blouse and strap on the heels, black lace booties so high I can hardly walk.

  Standing before the mirror, I stare at the woman I left behind in Paris when I went to New York, and found again when I returned.

  I’m ready early. I pace the living room, pausing to look down into the street. At two minutes before seven, the black sedan glides up to the curb and Marc gets out. I wait to hear his key in the lock before I go to the foyer. He doesn’t come in. He just holds his hand out to me.

  “You’re beautiful,” is all he says. He’s dressed in a tailored suit with a sleek gray shirt that makes his eyes look turbulent and dark.

  Henrik drives us to a restaurant with
no tables, just a long L-shaped bar with red leather chairs. We sit beside each other with a votive flickering between us, my ankle hooked around his.

  I’m not allowed to feed myself. “Tonight,” he says, “your whole world depends on me.”

  He gives me bites of beef and scallops from our plates, twice slipping his arm around my waist and kissing my neck. Instead of soothing my craving for him, his touch only inflames it. Maybe I’ll never be satisfied, even after he makes love to me. I was denied too long and now my desire is permanent, a chronic condition I’ll never cure.

  When we return to the car, I slide across the back seat and reach for his belt buckle. He laughs, letting me open his zipper and squeeze him to an enormous erection before placing my hand back in my lap.

  “Patience, Pet,” he says.

  “I’ve been nothing but patient,” I say, kissing his ear.

  “No,” he says, taking me by the shoulders, “you’ve done everything in your power to arouse me so I’ll bend to your will. A real submissive exercises self-control. She waits to be summoned by her master, no matter how much she wants him.”

  “I waited until you came to New York,” I point out.

  “Yes, but since then – and before you left Paris – you’ve been a disobedient temptress, with me and other men.”

  “It’s not fair to say I’ve been with other men,” I say. “Except for that stupid mistake with the waiter, and I’d had too much to drink.”

  Though the inside of the car is dark, his eyes glow whenever we pass a streetlamp. He smiles. “You’ve tried to drive me insane with jealousy and succeeded every time. I can’t help but admire your determination. You’ve used every situation to your advantage, haven’t you?”

  I drop my gaze. Though I want to argue, I can’t. Everything he says is the truth.

  “Give me your hands,” he says. I hold them out. He kisses each palm and places my hands back in my lap.

  “Raise your skirt,” he says.

  I lift the hem, knowing what he’ll see – parted thighs, garters clipped to stockings, panties so tiny he could tear them off with a flick of his wrist. He looks at me appreciatively but shakes his head.