by Cynthia Dane
Jackson opened his mouth as if to address Monica, but Henry stepped forward, and right away that stupid coward in a tacky tan suit backed down. Ever since the show at The Dark Hour, people had been laughing behind Jackson’s back while flustering at the thought of Henry Warren flaunting his masculinity like that. Those people hadn’t done shit when Jackson’s abuses came to light a year and a half ago, but now they were more than happy to make jokes at his expense and declare Henry the much better man to admire and do business with. I barely understand how men work. Not on that level, anyway. A bunch of teenagers, really. Although right now it worked in Monica’s favor.
“Let’s get this over with,” Jackson said with that false bravado of his. I can’t believe it used to turn me on. Now Monica wanted to laugh at him like the others did. “I’ve got appointments.”
Both lawyers cleared their throats. Before Jackson could throw a fit in his own home, Henry withdrew his checkbook and tore out the first check he encountered. “To whom do I make this out to?” He pretended to write something, though the check was filled out even before they left home.
“You know damn well, Warren.”
“Oh, of course.” Henry held the check up for both lawyers to inspect. “$416,578,430.98. The full amount, including the interest owed. I’m sure your lawyer is satisfied?”
The wiry old man took the tiny piece of paper and double checked the numbers he had written on a clipboard. Jackson tapped his foot against the floor, refusing to look Henry in the eye. What a weak weasel. He only knew how to throw his weight around when he had a woman to take advantage of. Right now, no woman in their circles would want anything to do with him. One day he might con another woman into being his girlfriend. That was another battle for Monica to fight another day.
“This is the correct, agreed upon amount.” The lawyer handed Jackson the check. “Should I consider the debt paid in full and release Gerald Warren?”
Jackson didn’t take his angry eyes off Henry’s face. Not like he would do anything in front of the lawyers. But he would make sure Henry and Monica knew how much disdain he now held for them. They were no longer amusement. They were the people who had put some final nails in his business – let alone pleasure – coffin. First Ethan Cole, and now the “little cow and her impotent bull,” as he called them in his final letter. Not so impotent, now is he? Monica got a regular demonstration of that.
“Sure. Paid in full. Now get these people off my property.”
He said that, and yet the look lingering on Monica was anything but damning. Jackson was taking his last fill of her. I suppose I should be intimidated. She wasn’t. If anything, she felt sorry for Jackson. All that money and nobody to share it with. It was his own fault, but still…
“Farewell,” Monica said. She extended her hand to him.
Everyone, including Henry, took a step back. So sue me. I’m a bit emboldened. How could she not be when this was her new fate? After their show, the first thing Monica discovered was that she had broken the record for most donations. When she saw the number, she nearly fainted.
As soon as they were paid by the club, she, Henry, Eva, and even Ethan pooled together their available funds until there was more than enough to pay off Gerald Warren’s debt to Jackson Lyle. Monica’s first interaction with Henry’s father came in the form of a phone call to Montana announcing that the debt was being paid off – and to never, ever do something as stupid as that again. The senior Warrens were content to remain out west while their children cleaned up their mess.
Jackson turned away from Monica without deigning to touch her.
“Come.” Henry put a gentle arm around her and turned her toward the door. “It’s a long drive back.”
The sun felt warmer when they stepped outside. The doors closed firmly, security guards standing before them, trying to look powerful and almost failing. Monica didn’t care. She was content to take Henry’s hand and walk down the steps to his car.
They were both free. Between the debt being paid off and Jackson’s lack of interest in her, Monica had never felt so confident about her future.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for my family,” Henry said in front of his car.
Monica turned to him, dumbstruck. “What are you talking about?”
His hand still in hers, he brushed the curly hair from her face and teased her ear with his fingertips. “Who knows how long my family’s name would have been beholden to that man. If it wasn’t for you, my dear, the future would’ve been quite complicated.”
“Don’t do that. I should be the one thanking you.”
“All I’ve done is love you.”
“That’s what you think.” Monica turned from his touch and placed her hand on the hood of his car. “You’ve done so much more… you’ve helped me heal.”
Henry said nothing as he opened the car door for her and made sure she was comfortably in the passenger seat. He closed the door and went to the driver’s side, the sun warming the leather seats to the point Monica shifted and pulled her hat over the top of her head.
“I take that back,” she said the moment Henry was in his seat and fiddling for his keys. “I haven’t healed.”
He looked at her, keys dangling from his hand but not nearing the ignition.
Monica explained. “I’ll always be moving on from that man. There’s no fighting that. For the rest of my life, he will be a part of me. He’ll be souring my heart, just a little, but I think the longer I’m with you, the smaller that piece of my heart will get, until it’s so insignificant that I can think of him without stopping my life.” She turned her head toward Henry. “But he’ll always be in there. Sometimes I’ll have a bad day because of what happened. Can you handle that?”
Henry lowered his hands and leaned in toward her. “I can’t understand exactly how you feel, as I’ve never been in your shoes… but I can be empathetic. Tell me what I can do to help you, and I’ll do it. Your happiness is my happiness.”
The terrible thing was that Monica didn’t know what she needed. The good thing was that she at least believed him.
“Just like you’ll always be healing, I’ll always be fighting to earn your trust more and more.” Henry pulled her toward him, their lips nearly touching. “I want to take over your heart, my Princess.”
“You already have.”
They kissed, the hot leather of the car heating up between them as Henry buried his face in her hair and held his hand securely around her neck. I didn’t think it was this possible to feel so safe with a man. Henry may have been boring to the outside world, but to Monica he was enough mystery to keep her guessing – and enough security to help her trust him for the rest of her life. He was the perfect Dom. No, the perfect boyfriend. Well, for Monica, those two things went hand-in-hand.
“Monica.” Henry took her hand, kissed it, and then held it to his freshly shaven cheek. “Marry me.”
“Henry…”
“I’m already the happiest man alive. If you married me, I would never know sadness again.”
She wanted to cry, but all she could do was giggle.
“What?’ Henry sat back, his cheeks so pink that Monica could hardly believe he was embarrassed.
“You are seriously asking me to marry you here? Of all places!” Before Henry could open his mouth, she continued. “When I last left this property, I was full of fear and hurt. I didn’t know if I would survive the next few days, let alone the next year. I didn’t trust anyone… not even the people who helped me escape. I was nobody, both inside and out. My memories of this place are so bad that…”
“I know, love.” Henry took her hand between their seats. “I want you to have at least one good memory of this place. You’ll always be driving by it, remembering it, and hearing references to it. Let it be the place that I proposed to you and nothing else.”
Monica squeezed his hand. Marry Henry… Was she ready for that? She could say yes, and then put off a wedding until s
he was ready. That could take another year. Or ten. Who knew? I could be Monica Warren. A girlish thought sprouted from her heart. I could truly be his. Not even Jackson had ever asked her to marry him in their ten years together. He never intended to make her his wife.
“I’m not going to say yes…” When Henry looked as if he were about to die, Monica smiled at him. “You need to re-do this proposal first. Somewhere else.”
“I’ll propose to you on the fucking Eiffel Tower if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, you can start at home. Tonight. When you make love to me.”
“I’ll ask you to marry me when I’m having the best pleasure of my life.”
“Then you can ask me at that beautiful restaurant downtown. In front of everyone.”
“All right!”
“And then on that beach on your private island. Propose to me in that hammock.”
“How many times do I need to propose to you?”
Monica glanced at him, smirking. “Until I say yes.”
“Who the hell is the Dom in this relationship again?”
That was the point. Monica wanted her Dom to keep pursuing her until the end of their days. Oh, she would say yes eventually. Probably on his second attempt, although she would encourage him to keep asking. After that? She would find ways to keep him after her. She would always submit, but Henry had to work to keep her.
Finally, he started the car. “The things I do for you…”
Monica rubbed his arm. “Because you love me, Mr. Warren.”
His face softened, and eventually Henry relaxed in his seat. “That I do. Damn me for it.”
This time she was prepared for his kiss as it came for her. Monica wrapped her hand around his head, savoring every moment their lips touched. When Henry pulled away, he did so with another kiss to her hand.
“Yes, Henry,” she said, softly. “I’ll marry you.”
His smile against her cheek was so boyish that Monica had to laugh in joviality. “I didn’t think you could make me any happier, but you have.”
“I’m happy as well. Now please, take me away from this place. I want to go home.”
“Our home?”
“Indeed.”
They kissed one last time before returning to their seats. Henry pulled out of the driveway and cruised down the private road and back to the highway that would take them home. Not a new prison, but a home for Monica to roam and have her fill of.
With sweet people who wanted her to be comfortable.
And family, as strange as they could be.
And so many friends who respected her that she didn’t know who to invite first to a party.
And of course, love.
Euphoria bloomed throughout her body as Henry gassed the car down the highway, the wind whipping her in the face and caressing her body in a way only Henry knew how.
She rode to a better future, the past left in the dust behind her. For once, Monica didn’t have to brave what lay ahead alone. She could do as she pleased – outside of the bedroom, anyway.
It felt good to trust again. Monica touched the leather collar around her neck and felt a sense of security wash over her. She was her own woman, but with the freedom to serve and submit to whomever she chose.
She chose Henry.
His was the type of domination she respected and felt most comfortable with. He treated her like a queen... a human being full of dreams and desires. No, Henry wasn’t perfect. He was a man, a human like anyone else. For the faults she had seen so far, however, Monica was still confident that she could be happy with him. Moving in together… marriage… maybe children one day. The possibilities with Henry were endless. Really, all Monica cared about was moving on and exploring this happiness at her fingertips.
Maybe she could heal after all.
THE END
If you have enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review for the series on Amazon. Likewise, you can find out about new Cynthia Dane releases by joining her mailing list!
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review (Amazon, Goodreads, etc.) so other readers who will enjoy it can find it!
Want to find out about the latest Cynthia Dane releases?
SIGN UP FOR THE MAILING LIST!
Want to join TEAM DANE, home of the ARC and Street Team?
FIND OUT ABOUT TEAM DANE!
Want to get in touch with Cynthia? Take your pick below!
Official Site // Facebook // Twitter // Google Plus // Tumblr
Bonus Story: Proposals
We hope you enjoyed HIS DOMINATION. Please enjoy this bonus story, set in the same universe and starring Monica’s friends Ethan and Jasmine.
Letter From Celeste
My Dearest Ethan,
As much as it pains me to do this, I’m afraid that I have no choice but to leave you. I don’t want to admit it, but I love you. I fell in love with you quite a while ago. In truth, I never thought it would be possible. You were too standoffish, too proud, too involved in your own life to spend much time with me outside from what you needed. And yet I stubbornly fell in love with you. It was both the greatest thing and the worst thing to ever happen to me.
But I can’t spend my life with a man who barely knows I’m there. I don’t want to take this further and end up alone every day anyway. Even when we were together, I felt like there’s this huge divide between us. I realize now that it’s because you don’t love me like I love you. I honestly wonder if you’re even capable of such a thing. I don’t mean this to offend you, but you just don’t seem like the kind of man who will ever be able to give his heart away.
You and I, we will never have the type of relationship that I need. It will only be about what you need. I thought that I could be happy with everything else you had to offer. But then I had to stop and wonder if this was the kind of life I have in mind for me. No, no it’s not.
I wish I could say that I’m sorry that I have to do this. But I know that you will bounce back soon enough. Another woman will catch your eye, and you will go on as you always have. You have this way with people that just brings them into your world. My only wish is that one day you will be able to meet someone halfway. To follow love where it wants to lead you.
Goodbye, Ethan. I would ask you to never forget me, but I don’t hold onto any hope that such a thing as possible.
Celeste
Some of her clothes remained in the penthouse. Ethan stared at them, wondering what he should do with a woman’s clothes. He could donate them. He could ask his receptionist if she wanted them. Or he could stare at them forever, reminded of the woman who got away.
Instead he folded them up and put them in the dresser. A few of Celeste’s other clothes remained there. He wondered if she left them there on purpose, just so he would never forget her.
How could he forget her? How could he forget any of the women he had loved?
1
Police sirens jerked Jasmine awake. The cold in her unheated apartment kept her awake. The beast at the end of her bed had been awake all along.
Those cold, piercing green eyes were the only things Jasmine could see in her bedroom. The sun was barely up, but by God she saw Prince Blackbeard Esq. II staring at her as if she were about to be marched off to the chopping block.
Jasmine whined as she burrowed beneath her covers and tried to go back to sleep. She had dreamed of a handsome man talking to her in a restaurant. There was so little to live for these days. Handsome strangers of her subconscious would have to be it.
Two sharp claws dug through Jasmine’s thin blanket and pierced her leg.
“Holy-!” She shot up, the comforter on her bed tumbling to the floor while Blackbeard hissed and grumbled his pithy cat crap. “All right! I’ll feed you!”
Cats were supposed to be warm and cuddly. Jasmine had never bought into the thinking that they supposed themselves rulers of humans and used them as slaves. People who thought that had never met
the kitties of her youth, each one more adorable than the last and more often than not purring in her lap.
Blackbeard was different. That asshole was a psychopath.
Tufts of fluff left hairball trails down the hallway until Blackbeard came to a complete stop in front of the living room. Jasmine, who stuck a toothbrush in her mouth on her way to the kitchen, tripped over her little darling and stumbled against the rancid carpet. Blackbeard huffed before waddling toward his empty food bowl. He was most displeased at its lack of contents.
