Pressure: A Diamond Doms Novel

by Ivy Nelson

  She took a deep breath. Grateful that the good doctor was letting her have control of the conversation.

  "I just want to address the past hurts and missteps that caused us to breakup. Lance calling the cops on me was just a manifestation of the problems we had."

  The therapist smiled. "I agree, but I feel like you're just parroting me because you're nervous. Let's get to the heart of what brought you here."

  Marissa blew out a breath. Damn her.

  "I'm worried we'll never be able to get past our trust issues," she finally murmured. "He called the cops on me. He actually thought I was capable of hurting him that way just to make a quick buck and he brought the police to a home we shared. Sure, it was his place, but we were engaged, and I basically lived there. He violated our space and had me arrested before he asked any questions and it still stings." She blew out a breath and tossed a glance sideways, hoping to read his expression. It remained emotionless.

  "I'm horribly attracted to him. I care for him. But that still hangs between us and given the dynamic we need to make our relationship meaningful, I don't know how to get past it."

  The therapist remained silent for a moment, making sure she was finished.

  "And you mean kink and BDSM, by dynamic right?"

  Marissa gave a slow nod. "That's the thing that really brings us together."

  The therapist gave them a knowing smile and jotted something down on her tablet.

  "Lance, what compelled you to come here tonight? Have you ever sought out therapy since your breakup with Marissa?"

  Marissa watched as Lance squirmed under the therapist's inquisitive gaze.

  "No. I guess you could say I threw myself into my work. I stepped away from the kink scene for a while until David approached me about being part of Solitaire."

  When he paused, the therapist turned to Marissa. "You also took a break from the kink scene, correct?"

  Why was her doctor asking this? She knew these answers.

  Marissa just nodded.

  "Marissa, you seem as nervous as the day you first came to see me. Is that because of Lance?"

  Another nod.

  Lance turned to her and pressed a hand to her knee. "I can go if you need me to, Kitten. I just want what's best for you."

  She turned and gave him a tight smile. "I know. I appreciate that. But I need you here."

  "Why do you feel you need him here, Marissa?"

  She blew out a breath. "I feel like we need a safe space to discuss why things ended the way they did. I understand now that Sebastian Forcythe set me up to take the fall for his transgressions, but that doesn't explain why Lance was so quick to believe what he saw. I was never even questioned. The cops just showed up and arrested me."

  The last sentence came out in a whisper and she felt like the sad betrayed ex all over again.

  Lance gripped her knee harder. "Kitten, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

  She knew he meant it but that didn't soothe the sting of the past. Not really.

  God, what was she doing here? What was to stop him from jumping to conclusions again? Her feelings for him were strong. Palpable. Something she couldn't do a damn thing about. Her knees would grow weak whenever Lance Moss walked into the room. But that didn't change a damn thing about their trust issues.

  Right?

  She sucked in a deep breath. "I just don't know how to put my trust issues at bay."

  The therapist cleared her throat and looked at Lance as if she was waiting for him to say something.

  "You don't have to put anything at bay," she finally said. "It's up to Lance to give you time. That said, you've hinted before, that him calling the cops was just a manifestation of your problems. Would you care to elaborate on that?"

  Marissa looked toward the window and closed her eyes. She really didn't.

  When she lifted her lashes again, she volleyed her glance to Lance and back to the therapist.

  "Sorry. I just don't know how to talk about this."

  The therapist smiled. "It's OK. You've done well the last few years." She turned her eyes to Lance. "Would you care to elaborate on anything?"

  Lance shifted uncomfortably.

  "I know Riss and I started things hot and heavy and they didn't really ever slow down. That's not something I ever viewed as a problem until things went south. We were passionate and intense. There were days when I had to have her three or more times because I just couldn't control myself. I find myself slipping back into that routine." He looked around. "This is a safe space, right?"

  The therapist nodded for him to continue.

  "I called her and ordered her to a stairwell so I could fuck her senseless at lunch today. And that was after she told me I didn't have enough women in leadership roles at my company. My girl is a feminist through and through. I want to be one. And yet I insist on her unyielding submission when it comes to our sex life."

  Marissa sucked in a breath. She hadn't expected such honesty from him.

  What the hell?

  The therapist gave him a smile.

  "Dominance and submission in sex have been around for centuries. It's possible to be a feminist and be a dominant personality at the same time. I won't pretend to know how you treat Marissa in and out of the bedroom, but I will say the seeming dichotomy is possible."

  Marissa gave him a gentle pat on the thigh to let him know how proud she was that he’d opened up a little.

  The therapist set her tablet aside and leaned forward, her fingers steepled together.

  “I’ll be honest, I’m not a couple’s therapist and while I want Marissa to continue seeing me, it might do you both some good to seek out someone who specializes in couples. I can even point you to a few who are kink friendly. For tonight, though, I want to make it clear that we’re here to focus on Marissa and her needs.”

  Lance nodded. “That’s always been my goal. I know I fucked up five years ago. I spent months after she left and asked me not to contact her ever again just trying to make it right. I knew I’d burned her in the tech industry and even my word wasn’t going to repair all the damage, but I tried.”

  “I just don’t understand why you never came to me and showed me that,” she murmured.

  “You told me no, Marissa. No has to mean something. You took off your collar and your engagement ring and you told me no. How was I supposed to respect that boundary while trying to force you back into my life?”

  The therapist leaned back in her chair and watched them for a moment.

  “Lance, I don’t know a lot about business, but you don’t make it to the top of the hottest bachelors of Chicago list without having heard no and not listening at least a few times.” She held up a hand when Lance opened his mouth to protest. “Hear me out. I’m not suggesting that you should violate Marissa’s consent. You’re absolutely right that no means no. But judging from your position in life, you’re a persuasive man. What caused you to walk completely away from Marissa after you called the cops on her?”

  Lance blew out a breath. “Is this really necessary?”

  Dr. Hoffman looked toward Marissa with an expectant stare. Marissa gave a slight nod and whispered, “For me it is.”

  The doctor turned her gaze back to Lance and he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe I thought she would feel a little like I did in college and would find my attempts to make amends pathetic. I guess I decided I was better off without her.”

  She sucked in a breath. That stung.

  “Tell me about college,” the therapist prodded.

  He closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “Riss knows my past. It wasn’t exactly pretty. I’d earned an almost full ride to MIT when my parents were killed. I fought tooth and nail to keep my place there. Two years later, someone accused me of cheating, and they kicked me out. After it was discovered that I didn’t cheat, they offered to reinstate me but because I missed a semester, I wasn’t eligible for the scholarship I’d been attending on. At that point, I had enough knowledge to go with th
e skill I already possessed that I got cocky and said fuck MIT. I found a backer for an app I’d developed, and the rest is history.”

  “So, you’re saying you felt like if Marissa saw your attempts to fix things, she would say fuck you and just make you feel worse?”

  Beside her, Lance visibly winced and she didn’t blame him.

  He turned to her and gave a wry smile. “Of course, you would pick a therapist who doesn’t mind dropping the f bomb.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  “If I remember correctly, your company is called Moss Industries Tech. Was that another subtle or perhaps not-so-subtle fuck you to MIT?”

  Lance bounced a knee up and down. “It was. My goal was, and maybe still is, to make my company come to mind first when someone says the letters MIT.”

  The therapist quirked up an eyebrow. “So, your goal is to become more well-known than a nearly one-hundred- and sixty-year-old prestigious university?

  Lance gave a terse laugh and wiped both hands down his still bouncing thighs. He was getting antsy.

  “I didn’t say it was logical.”

  “We aren’t often logical about the things we’re passionate about.”

  Marissa stood, suddenly feeling the need for space between them.

  “Where are you at right now, Marissa?”

  She leaned against the credenza and stared out the window. “I guess I understand what Lance is trying to say, but I would like to think I meant more to him than his petty feud with MIT. Do you know he poaches students from them every year? Gives them full rides to other universities. He purposely finds students he knows MIT is courting and he makes them a better offer to attend Harvard or Caltech. Even if it’s financially irresponsible.”

  The therapist raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever considered therapy for yourself, Lance?”

  He jerked his head back and forth. “I suggested couples counseling for Riss and I once early in our relationship, but I’ve never considered it for myself. But I would for Marissa.”

  The therapist smiled. “That’s thoughtful, but it’s kind of something you have to do for yourself. Marissa came to terms with that and sought me out. But let’s get back to what she just said. Is that true?”

  He had the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah. It’s true.”

  “Marissa, how did you learn this about Lance?”

  Marissa gave a mirthless laugh. “A roommate I had just out of college got the Lance Moss treatment and took a full ride to Caltech.”

  “But that’s not how you first learned his name right?”

  She shook her head. “We met on a deep web forum and he liked my skills. Offered me a temporary gig on a side project that had nothing to do with his company. Despite his… feud, he’s a good guy and a bit of a social justice warrior. I was a lot of a social justice warrior, so I took the gig. I still didn’t know who he was and a few days later, I met him at a BDSM club. It took a little bit to figure out that he was the same person I’d been talking to online. It just felt like fate was pushing us together.”

  Lance stood and moved to the opposite wall, watching Marissa. She squirmed beneath his gaze. How could he be eye-fucking her at a time like this?

  “What does all this have to do with anything, Doc?”

  “We’re just digging right now. Looking for things that might warrant talking more about. Marissa wants you in her life. You clearly want her in yours. I don’t speculate on my patients’ feelings, but it would make sense if Marissa wasn’t quite sure why you want her? Is she just another trophy of victory to you or are there real feelings that can lead to something long lasting?”

  Marissa smiled. The woman knew how to drill down to the heart of things.

  Lance swore. “Of course, she’s not a fucking trophy. You really feel that way, Riss?”

  Marissa shrugged. “It’s hard not to wonder. I know you say you did a lot to try and fix what you did, but it was all on a very technical level. There was nothing emotional to it. I appreciate it and I’m glad you showed me. But it feels like you spent more time sending Sebastian Forcythe to prison than you did helping me.”

  The doctor nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Lance sank onto the couch again and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. How do I make that up to you?”

  Marissa’s heart ached as she realized the answer.

  “I’m not sure you can.”

  ♦♦♦♦

  Lance clenched his fists as he read Marissa's text.

  Not sure I can make it this weekend. Is that OK?

  Since their therapy session, she'd been avoiding him. Security logs proved she'd been in his office building and talk amongst his team said she'd been in her office, but every time he'd asked her to lunch or dinner, she refused. It had been nearly forty-eight hours since their session with her therapist, and she still wasn't ready to see him. They were supposed to head back to Solitaire tonight or in the morning. Would she go with him? Or would she decide that the risks of a relationship with him were too many?

  That thought put knots in his gut. He couldn't fathom going back to life without Marissa.

  Tempering his rage, he typed out a message.

  I can't force you to come with me as my sub. But there is still work to be done with the new servers.

  Was he somehow goading her into getting on his plane?

  He didn't like to think that he was manipulative, but after that therapy session on Tuesday, he couldn't help but wonder if he was going about this all wrong.

  On a whim, he pressed the button that gave him a direct line to his assistant.

  "Do we have an address for Miss Sullivan?" he asked when she answered.

  The sound of clacking keys met him before she spoke again, rattling off the address.

  He frowned. Marissa wasn't rich by any means. At least not Lincoln Park rich. But she could damn sure afford something better than one of the poorest, most dangerous neighborhoods in Chicago.

  He was going over there. Nothing could talk him out of it.

  His driver lifted one eyebrow when he told him where he was going. Forty-five minutes later, they approached a run-down apartment complex.

  "Christ," he swore as he climbed from the back of the SUV. "I'll be back. Wait here."

  The driver nodded and shut the car off.

  The address on his phone told him she lived on the first floor. Something he knew was dangerous for a single woman in Chicago. His hands tingled with the itch to spank her ass raw for taking so few precautions when it came to her safety.

  He rapped his knuckles against her door in a firm knock and waited for her to answer.

  She opened the door in a tank top and shorts and he nearly choked on his tongue. Her tits practically toppled out of the thin spaghetti strap top.

  "Lance," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came for you. Can I come in?"

  He watched her throat work as she swallowed hard and step back. "Sure. Come on in," she murmured.

  He looked around the tiny studio apartment and scowled.

  "You can afford better than this," he blurted.

  "I'm saving most of my money for opening my own business," she said as she dragged a hand through her dirty blonde hair.

  "Did you just come to judge my apartment, or do you need something?"

  He sighed, longing to pull her to him and press his lips to hers.

  "I just want you to come to Colorado with me, love. I promise I'll keep my distance. We still have work to do."

  To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  "I'm fucking glad you came. That's what I waited for weeks after... that night," she whispered.

  Her arms burned around his waist as he kissed the crown of her hair. "God, I'm so sorry Riss. Come with me, please. And promise you won't come back here when we come home. I'm not saying you have to live with me, but this apartment complex was the site of at least two police investigations in the last month. It's not safe. You
know how I feel about your safety."

  Marissa gave him a tight smile. "I spend most of my time at work. My only goal in the past five years has been earning enough to start my own company.

  Lance was silent as he dragged a knuckle down her cheek. He'd been in that very same place more than fifteen years ago. Eighteen years old, his parents dead. He'd barely had enough to cover his tuition at MIT. He shook his head as the memories tried to crowd his brain.

  "Come on, love. Let's finish this job and then figure our own lives out."

  When she gave him an almost imperceptible nod and headed for the tiny hallway, he breathed a sigh of relief and dropped to one of the rickety barstools that sat in front of her kitchen counter.

  She emerged fifteen minutes later with a suitcase and a ginger smile.

  "Let's go," she whispered.

  Quietly, he led her to the parked SUV and instructed his driver to take them to the private airfield where his jet was waiting to fly them to Colorado. He had twenty-four hours and change before the next party started, and he intended to make her undeniably his before then.

  21

  Marissa clutched at Lance’s knee as the plane touched down in Colorado. She enjoyed flying, but Landing had always put her a little on edge. Today, her nerves about Lance made it worse. Lance pried her fingers from his leg and pulled them to his lips. “We’re here, Riss. Relax.”

  She did her best to obey him, as she sucked deep gulps of air into her lungs. “Lunch?” she asked as he pulled her from her seat.

  He didn’t say anything as he led her down the jetway and into the waiting car. A sleek Audi had been dropped off at the airfield with the keys in the ignition.

  He drove them into town where they stopped at a restaurant famous for lunch sandwiches and salads.

  It wasn’t until they sat at their secluded table near the back of the restaurant that she realized Lance was just as nervous as she was.

  She took a sip of fresh lemonade and cleared her throat.

  “So. Therapy,” she murmured.

  He gave a grim chuckle. “That was definitely not what I expected. How do you feel?”