by P. Dangelico
“Watch your mouth,” he murmured, the tone hair-raising.
This time when I pulled on the door handle, it thankfully sprang open. I stalked to the elevator, and without waiting for him, took it up to the penthouse. I knew I was going to pay for it upstairs, and yet at the moment I couldn’t have cared less; all that mattered was getting as far away from him as possible.
Once inside the apartment, I went straight to the windows overlooking the lake. The absolute stillness of the water was visible even in the dark––in direct contrast to the turbulence of emotions swirling inside the home we shared, a storm brewing closer to that of a category five hurricane.
Footsteps intruded in the silence, measured, unhurried. When they stopped not too far behind me, I wrapped my arms around myself, staving off the tremor that had taken a hold of me since the altercation at the clinic. No doubt the effect of the adrenaline running through my veins.
“I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe you would humiliate me that way.”
“I can’t believe you would let him touch you,” he snapped out.
My eyes went straight to the ceiling, where I begged God to grant me the patience and the words to get through to him.
“I’m chaffing, and not in a good way. You need to loosen the choke collar, Sebastian. I’m not a pet you take out whenever you feel like it.”
I turned and leaned my back against the glass for support, my knees turning liquid under his intense scrutiny. He’d removed his jacket and tie. With his hands neatly tucked in the pockets of his slim, grey slacks and his air of superiority, he was every inch the lord of the manor I met not so long ago.
“I take care of what’s mine.”
Bewildered, I stood up straighter. I stared back for an undetermined amount of time trying to judge how far he’d gone off the rails. “I’m not a thing, an object, one of your assets to manage. I’m not something to be possessed!”
“I believe the words were honor and obey,” he taunted in a low, sinister voice.
I began laughing like a deranged lunatic, no humor in it. “You can’t be serious?”
He stalked toward me. I’d never seen him look quite so menacing before. I chose to stand my ground. When he reached me, he slowly lifted his hand, and ever so delicately stroked my throat with the pads of his fingers. A burning brand. My pulse jumped.
“I do possess you. As much as you own me. So you will do as I say––”
Cutting him off, I spat out, “The hell I will––”
“You will do as I say!” he shouted over me. Shoving his fingers through my hair, his grip on it tightened painfully. And then he swooped down, and kisses me. He kissed me hard. A kiss meant to punish, meant to dominate. I didn’t push him away. I only pulled him closer.
My mind begged me to stop him while my body insisted I meet his passion in equal measure. The friction caused by dissenting opinions sparked something inside of me, fueling the heat between us. He slanted his head and held me in place while he deepened the kiss. His hands were everywhere at once. His fingers dug into my butt cheeks and pulled my pelvis into the rock solid erection pushing against his gabardine slacks. I shoved a hand over the swollen head and he gasped into my mouth. I pushed past the wet stain spreading at the at the top of his zipper and squeezed his sac. I knew I was tempting the devil and I couldn’t have cared less.
My Narciso Rodriguez pencil skirt and my shirt were the victims of his next attack. The first, bunched up at my waist, the latter, half ripped open. I was unceremoniously hoisted up and carried into the bedroom with my ankles locked around his hips. We began tearing at each other. My thong was shredded to bits in a one handed grab. His shirt met the same fate. Buttons began flying. There wasn’t going to be one left on a shirt in all of Geneva if we kept this up.
He threw me down on the bed and barely got his pants past his rear end before he shoved himself inside of me, in his enthusiasm driving us both halfway up the bed.
It wasn’t lovemaking, and it wasn’t intended to be. It was two sweaty, lust crazed bodies crashing into each other, taking their anger and frustration out on one another. The alpha imposing his will on everyone and everything under him. Part of me welcomed it. The deranged part, that is. But the part that could still reason knew this would never stop, the noose would only get tighter if I didn’t put an end to it immediately.
My climax was sharp and fast. He came with a roar, and triggered another seismic event in my body. Afterwards he collapsed on top of me. As I fought for breath, he nuzzled the the side of my neck. All the tenderness I felt in his touch kicked my anger up a notch. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I pulled his head back to stare into his eyes. I wanted him to see the determination on my face when I spoke.
“You aren’t going to fuck me into submission, darling. I can take anything you dish out.”
A wicked smile flirted at the corners of his mouth, all the anger now leeched out of him by an epic orgasm. “It’s not going to stop me from trying though.”
“I’m not in the mood for your jokes. Get off of me.” I pushed and pushed until he rose up on an elbow. Then I watched him grab his still hard penis and rub my thighs and intimate parts with his seed. I’d never seen anything so blatantly possessive in all my life.
“Enough!” I shouted, pushing him off.
He rolled onto his back while I sat up, my legs dangling off the foot of the bed. My fingers searched for the buttons on my lavender, silk georgette blouse and discovered that all but one were missing.
Demoralized. Defeated. I was all those things and more. I could no longer justify his action to myself. This was either a lack of respect, or a lack of trust. Either way, it had to stop.
“I’ll be sleeping in the next bedroom tonight and tomorrow I’m moving to a hotel until you develop the ability to reason like a sane individual.”
“The hell you are,” was his warning reply. I glanced over my shoulder and found him leaning back on his elbows. His chest bare, his eyes narrowed. His pants and underwear were still pushed down his thighs. He made no move to cover himself up.
Beast. A gorgeous one. In the privacy of my mind I entertained all sorts of filthy things I wanted to do to him. But that’s as far as it went. There was no way I was actually going to let him fuck me into submission. And it killed me that with all the issues hanging over our heads one glance at him had the power to turn my insides into utter chaos. The look on my face must’ve tipped him off because his lips curved into a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat.
I went straight into the walk in closet we shared, grabbed something to sleep in and tried to fix my hair. I was certain I looked like I’d been mauled in a dark alley. When I walked back into the room, he was in the same position I left him in, still lounging lazily like a big cat after the hunt.
“When you come to your senses, you can find me at the clinic,” I told him.
The smug smile dropped right off his face. His expression morphed into a silent threat. But just in case I wasn’t paying attention, he said, “You walk out that door, and you’ll be sorry.” His voice was super quiet. Goose bumps swept over my flesh.
“I already am,” I answered just as quietly. And with that, I walked out of the bedroom we shared as man and wife without a backwards glance.
The next morning, I left for the clinic extremely early––before Sebastian was even awake. I found Yannick in his office, sitting behind his desk with only a desk lamp illuminating the sharp angles of his movie star face. Bent foreword with his chin resting on his fists, he stared at the chessboard as if he were waiting for the pieces to move themselves.
“You’re playing by yourself?” I said, pushing down a smile.
He glanced up. “Do you play?”
“Yes, but very badly.
“Perfect, take a seat. My ego needs a boost.”
“I highly doubt that,” I replied, sitting in the armchair on the other side of his desk while he rearranged the chess pieces.
“I don’t kno
w what else to say except I’m sorry. He’s always been possessive, but he’s never crossed the line that before.” Yannick large soulful eyes held steady. “He’s been under an extraordinary amount of stress lately.” I diverted my gaze, too embarrassed by what I heard coming out of my mouth. A bad excuse.
“Has he ever laid a hand on you.”
My eyes snapped to his. My expression of surprise switched to a defensive one almost instantly. “Never, never, he’s not like that. He’s…he’s emotional, yes…but he’s more likely to hurt himself,” I vehemently argued.
“I had to ask,” Yannick replied in the same low, butter soft voice he used to comfort patients. That said more to me than his words.
“I have to look for an apartment tomorrow.” The weight of his perceptive eyes was on me again while mine remained on the board. Yannick being Yannick, he didn’t ask any more questions.
“There’s a studio apartment on the top floor. I keep it for late nights and such. Move in there. It’s clean. I just had the bathroom and kitchen remodeled.”
“No. I couldn’t impose.” Any further objections were stalled by his words.
“You can and you will. I’m not discussing this further.” We drifted into silence for a while.
“Yannick, can I ask you something?”
“I don’t think I can stop you.”
“How did you raise the money to build this clinic? The machines are almost brand new.”
“I’m obscenely wealthy,” he deadpanned.
I glanced up to examine his face. “Are you joking? I can never tell with you.”
His intense gaze remained on the board. “I never joke about money. My grandfather owns a well known chain of furniture stores. I’m his favorite.”
“So modest,” I mocked, chuckling.
His eyes slammed into mine. “What has modesty ever done for anyone other than get them a place at the back of the line? The man who thinks like a pauper will never be king.”
That quelled my amusement instantly. I considered what he said and couldn’t find fault in it. In my heart, it rang true. “Who said that?”
“I did.” I studied the fascinating man sitting across from me. Dedicated, driven…a force of nature. If I didn’t know him personally, I would think he was too good to be true, a fictional hero in a romance novel.
“You know, Yannick, if you were just a fraction sweeter you’d be the catch of the century.”
He looked up then, his dark eyes bright and mischievous, his sensual lips curving up wryly. “Who says I want to be caught?”
“The harder you fight it, the harder you’ll fall,” I teased.
After a beat, his expression sobered, “Like you did?”
It was pointless to dissemble, Yannick had an instinct for people that was unrivaled––Maria Rossetti had been right about that. “Exactly.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Autumn happened all at once. Almost overnight leaves turned from bright green to deep orange. A crisp bite in the air. The smell of burning wood.
I received a text from Alek the subsequent day. We were so busy at the clinic, I managed to ignore it for an entire morning. The IPhone I carried in the pocket of my medical coat was suddenly ten pounds heavier, a physical reminder of what had to be dealt with sooner or later. By late afternoon, it might as well have been blasting cannon fire.
Part of me wanted to know what happened all those years ago. I’d berated myself for so long for having had bad judgment when it came to men that it was a relief to consider that I may have been right all along, that Alek was the person I thought he was when I fell in love with him. Reason said there was no harm in getting the whole truth. My instincts, however, told me to focus ahead, to put the past to rest. Caught between my past and my present, it felt like I was being stretched on a medieval rack.
I walked into the restroom and paced nervously. This was a man I’d known most of my life, had been intimate with. Rationally, I should’ve been able to meet with him, let him say his peace and, with a clear conscience on both our parts, walk away. But something told me it wasn’t going to be that simple. That there were land mines on the road up ahead…and I couldn’t shake the feeling.
I splashed cold water on my face and reluctantly pulled the phone out.
I really need to see you. Give me the opportunity to explain. I know you’ve moved on and I don’t blame you, but give me the opportunity to do the same. Give me closure and let me go.
Alek
Closure––that’s what I needed. No explanations. No hashing out the ugly details. I texted back.
Fine. Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll come to you.
Alek’s hotel room was near the train station, in one of those hip and inexpensive chain of hotels. I exited out of the back of the clinic and caught the tram. Bear had been living in my pocket since I moved into the flat above the clinic and I didn’t need the complication of having him around.
When Alek opened the door to his room, the anticipation coupled with the brief flash of joy I caught on his face made me feel unbearably guilty. He didn’t deserve my wrath or distrust, even though I’d spent the last six years believing that he’d deserted me.
He wore jeans and a navy blazer with a crisp white shirt. His designer moccasins looked expensive. He seemed to be living a comfortable life. Alek had always been vain. He’d always spent more time on his appearance than I did on mine and today was no different. It was an aspect of him that never sat well with me, so I tended to ignore it.
“How did you find me?”
I entered the room, taking in the neatly made bed, the suitcase in the corner, all his toiletries lined up like little soldiers on the dresser. He was always so meticulous. Long forgotten memories hit me all at once, with them came a pang of nostalgia.
“It’s good to see you, too,” he replied, nothing in his voice pointed to anything other than mild amusement.
“Alek, I haven’t got time for this.” My impatience asserted itself. The wounded look on his face though, transformed it into guilt almost instantly. “I’m sorry. I…this has been a bit of a shock.”
“I understand.”
“How did you find me?” I reiterated.
“I’ve been looking for you for six and half years,” he said in a soft voice. I turned to search his face for the truth, to get a better read of his intentions, but he had always been good at hiding from me. That reminder shored up my resolve.
“You couldn’t have been looking too hard. For the first month you were gone doing God knows what, I was home being interrogated and harassed on a daily basis.”
Instinctively, my hand flew to the diamond cross. I fiddled with it as I tended to do when I was nervous, or irritated. Alek’s black irises followed the motion of my hand and came to rest on the diamonds.
“Did he give that to you?” I didn’t miss the bite in his voice, the possessiveness he had no right to. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and cocked his head.
“Who my husband? Yes, he gave it to me.”
“What about your mother’s cross? Was that not suitable for the wife of a billionaire?”
Fire shot though my veins, my blood boiling at the accusation. And yet he had just handed me a gift, granting me absolution from any guilt I may have felt for believing the worst of him. “He loves me unconditionally. My mother’s cross was lost when I was running from the police. I woke up weeks later in the hospital and it was gone.”
Chastened, Alek’s eye’s moved off. After nodding twice, he walked to the window. A freight train was pulling into the station in the near distance. The screech of its brakes however didn’t drown out Alek’s next words. “I wish…I wish it had been me to save you. I wish I could’ve given you gifts like that.”
“I don’t need saving, and I’ve never needed gifts––you knew that. I needed you. I needed your support. You denied me the one thing you had in your capacity to give––the one thing I needed.” I didn’t like the sound of my own voice. It reeke
d of resentment, as if he still had the power to hurt and disappointment me when, in fact, nothing could have been farther from the truth.
“I know,” he said, his brow furrowed, his wide mouth tight. “I’ve regretted leaving you every day for the past six years.”
He looked around, a little lost, disoriented. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you. Would you like to go to the bar in the lobby?”
“I won’t be staying that long.”
His head whipped around and his eyes slammed into mine. “I thought you drowned in a ferry crash. I thought you were dead.” His words were clipped, an implicit accusation in them as well as his eyes. The truth of his confession stared back at me, rooting me to the floor where I stood. “There wasn’t a trace of you to be found anywhere. Do you know what that was like for me? Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
Sympathy followed in the wake of the guilt stabbing me in the chest.
Walking towards me, the flash of heat in his eyes cooled and his expression grew aloof, distant. “And then I’m having coffee one morning, reading the paper as always, and a small article in the finance section catches my eye. A wealthy banker, a Swiss-American who inherited the oldest privately owned bank in Switzerland, had married an Albanian medical student. And in black and white, there it was––your name…imagine my surprise.” He began chuckling, the sound caustic. It scraped my already raw nerves.
He’d been looking for me. Everything I thought to be true about Alek over the last six years had been wrong. My breathing grew rough and forced. I felt myself shaking but I wasn’t certain if it was just a figment of my imagination. I had to get out of there. Away from the truth, away from all the feelings pushing me over the edge. I’d been wrong about everything. My feet started moving quickly, rushing towards the door.
