Deep Control

by Annabel Joseph

  “Thanks for holding me back,” I said. “Thanks for stepping in to look after my submissive.”

  “Returning a favor,” he replied, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

  In the midst of my angst, I’d forgotten that Fort had lost his shit at The Gallery less than a year ago, abandoning Juliet, leaving her terrified when his demons had become too much. I’d stepped in and handled things when he wasn’t able to. That’s what responsible Dominants did.

  Now Milo and Fort were the responsible ones, and I was the one with the demons. One demon. My biological father, whose blood flowed through my veins.

  “How bad did I hurt Milo?” I asked as he led me toward the bathroom.

  “Not as bad as he hurt you.”

  I touched my nose and realized that it was bleeding. I looked down and saw smudged, red drips on my shirt. “Let me clean up before I see her.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  Fort left me in the bathroom, telling me he’d check on the others. I hunched over the marble counter and stared at my haggard, bloodied face. I’d really fucked up. I took off my ruined shirt and tie and threw them in the trash, then stood in my undershirt, wiping the blood from my nose and mouth. I’m sorry, Ella. I’m not this person. I’ve worked my whole life to avoid being this person.

  I looked up when Fort brought Milo into the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice sounding hollow, even though I meant it. “I’m a piece of shit, and I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

  “I know.” He leaned his hip against the opposite counter, studying me. He had a darkening bruise beneath his eye. “I know the difference between play and abuse, Dev. I know where the line is. She was okay.”

  “I know she was okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I don’t either, but you took a good, consensual scene between two people and blew it all to shit.”

  It had been my scene, too. Maybe he’d forgotten? I saw one of Fort’s brows rise in the periphery, but I wasn’t going to fight with Milo again. I needed to see Ella. “How is she?” I asked. “Is she still with Juliet?”

  “Yes,” said Milo. “She’s shaken up, but she’ll forgive you. She understands you were trying to look out for her, even if you did it in a psycho way.” He stood back and gestured toward the door. “She’s sitting with Juliet and Rene in the lobby. Everyone else has gone home.”

  We walked out together, leaving the empty, echoing Gallery dungeon behind us. I’d never heard it so quiet before. Your fault, for losing your shit. All of this is your fault.

  Ella was sitting beside Juliet in the lobby. Coats on, collars off. They weren’t submissives now, just women. Ella had taken off her glasses, and cleaned the mascara trails from her face. She looked incredibly beautiful, and incredibly harsh.

  “Where are your glasses?” I asked. “Are they broken?”

  “No. Nothing happened to me. Nothing was wrong in there. I took them off because…” Her voice broke a little. “Because I don’t want to see you right now.”

  I stood where I was. Her glare wasn’t welcoming. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “And I look like shit right now, so you’re smart not to want to see me.”

  She looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap. “It’s not about how you look. It’s about what you did.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, really sorry that I lost it. I saw something that wasn’t happening. There was something in your face that made me think he was hurting you.”

  She looked back up, her voice full and harsh again. “He was hurting me, because I wanted him to. You hurt me also. That’s why we come here.”

  There were five of us in the room—six, counting Rene—but no one else spoke or moved as we talked to each other. None of them dared leave us on our own.

  “Ella, I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” She glanced at Juliet, who looked terribly sad. “I get it. You have things in your past. Triggers. We all have them. We all have weird stuff we can’t deal with.” She took a deep breath, and I knew where this was going.

  “Ella—”

  “When you let yourself get too close to someone, or feel too much for someone, it makes you crazy. I know that.”

  She knew it from her lovesick father. Her father had taught her through example that strong feelings weren’t to be borne, that they ended in tragedy, if not insanity. What were my actions earlier, if not insane?

  “Ella, please.”

  “I like you, Devin. I like you a lot. You make me feel all kinds of wonderful things, and—”

  “And you do that for me, too.” I moved closer to her, wanting to hold her, but I couldn’t. It was like she’d put up a wall. “It’s okay for people to feel things for each other,” I said.

  Everyone watching us must have thought we were insane. Why not feel things? Why not fall in love? Because to Ella, that was as bad as abuse. It was a way to ruin your life. Damn it, it made me angry.

  “You can’t use this as some excuse to say things are bad between us,” I insisted. “They’re not. I had a mental glitch. A memory, and I saw something that wasn’t there. I’m sorry I messed up your scene. I’m sorry that…” I took a step toward her. “Can I hold you? I’m sorry. I just want everything to be okay again.”

  “I don’t know if they can be okay again. After tonight… I don’t know. I feel like maybe we should take a break.”

  Fort and Milo looked shocked at her cool declaration, but I wasn’t. Juliet looked mournful. Rene looked troubled. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

  “Take a break from what?” I asked. “We don’t have anything. You won’t let us have anything. But whatever. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

  But it wasn’t. My rough, petty response to her dismissal was proof of that.

  “Fine, then,” she said, like that settled it. “I could use a break anyway. I have lots to do at work.”

  I moved into her space, glaring down at her. “I know you have work. That’s way more important than actually feeling something.”

  Milo made a sound behind me, a warning. Juliet’s eyes were telling me to stop. I wondered if Fort was behind me too, poised to grab me in case I launched myself at Ella this time. I searched her gaze, wanting to shove her glasses back on her face, wanting to make her see my expressions if she was going to put me through this.

  But she hadn’t put me through anything. She’d told me all along a relationship was off limits. She’d never wanted to fall in love, and if I’d done so like a fucking dumbass loser, that was my problem.

  “Maybe we can take Ella home,” suggested Juliet. “And the two of you can talk sometime tomorrow, when things don’t feel so intense.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, helplessly. Ella couldn’t see my eyes, but I could see hers, and I could read her closed-off body language. She’d seen a side of me tonight she never wanted to see again. I’d acted like my fucked-up father, but she’d seen her fucked-up father in my “crazy” actions. Love makes you crazy. Now we were done.

  Whatever. There was nothing to do about it now. Fort and Juliet left with Ella, who didn’t say goodbye to me, or look at me, even when she put her glasses back on. Rene said he’d wait for the cleaning crew, so he could show them where the blood was.

  The blood. Fuck me. What had I done?

  Milo invited me down to his apartment for a nightcap. Well, he phrased it as an invitation, but it was more of a command. Did he think I’d go flailing off after Ella, trying to change her mind? Would Fort and Juliet stay at her apartment to protect her from me?

  Was I losing my mind?

  As soon as we got to Milo’s, he brought out two glasses and his best whiskey, and poured generous drinks. I downed mine in one gulp, and thanked him when he poured another.

  “You look like a degenerate,” he said, instead of “you’re welcome.”

  Milo’s timid greyhound made his way over to give me a diffident greeting. He
was warmer with Milo, licking his hand and accepting a series of strokes along his sleek, black frame before he disappeared again. We settled back on the two low, weathered leather sofas beside Milo’s specially sourced 17th century fireplace. Pretentious bastard. His furnishings alone probably cost more than my apartment, and that wasn’t including the room of antique stringed instruments housed just beyond his home dungeon. Still not enough reason to punch him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’m really—”

  He held up a hand to silence my apologies. “I get it. She fucked you up. It happens.”

  I wanted to argue and say he didn’t understand, but he understood.

  “I liked her,” I said, morose, a little drunk already. I put down my glass. “She was different. But, you know, in the end she was the same. Crazy female.”

  He let this blanket statement go. More than any of us, he was plagued by crazy females attracted to his reputation, his musical talent, his famous violin-making family name. “So that’s it?” he said after a pause. “You’re going to let her go? Move on?”

  I shrugged. “What choice do I have? She has ‘lots to do at work.’ She has gravitational waves to measure. Time machines to build, so she can travel to exploding stars.” I waved a hand. “Whatever. Good for her.”

  Milo lifted his glass. “Good for her. You’ve got plenty of other women you can play with.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And if Ella wants, she can keep playing at The Gallery with me.”

  Those words made me see red. Drunk red. No, man, you already punched him once. Twice? You can’t punch him again. I picked up my second glass of whiskey and drained it, and plunked it down on Milo’s fucking coffee table.

  “Whatever,” I choked out. “I don’t fucking care.”

  He grinned, a sadistic, cold, smartass smirk. “I was kidding, Dev. I’m afraid of her. She broke up with your ass tonight, and she wasn’t even nice about it. She did it in front of all your friends. Scary bitch.”

  “Yeah, scary bitch,” I said without spirit. “You should stay away from her.”

  “I will.”

  We sat in silence for a while. I studied the neo-Roman fireplace, carved with faux columns and graduated lines. It made me think of history and time, which made me think of Ella. “Do you think she made it home?” I asked.

  Milo pursed his lips. “I’m sure Fort and Juliet got her settled in. She’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah. She’ll be fine.”

  He stretched out his legs, still sipping his first drink. “Hey, Dev. Remember when Fort had to take a break from The Gallery?”

  “You mean when you banned him for six months?”

  “Yeah, when I banned him. It helped him figure out a lot of things. Maybe you should take a break, too.”

  I studied him. “Are you banning me?”

  “Probably. I don’t think you should come back right away.” He looked at his fingernails, which he kept closely manicured for playing the violin. “You should take some time to think. It helped Fort get some distance, helped him figure his shit out.”

  I shook my head. “That won’t work for me. We’re not going to end up together like Fort and Juliet. Ella isn’t interested, for real.”

  “Just something to think about. Hey, you want to sleep here tonight? Are you flying tomorrow?”

  “Monday,” I said.

  He stood and went back to the bar. “Feel like getting plastered, then? We’re going to be sore tomorrow, anyway. A hangover won’t make things any worse.”

  “I haven’t been dead drunk in forever,” I said.

  I rarely drank to inebriation, but tonight seemed like a good time to do it. If nothing else, it would make some of the lingering pain fade away.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Ella

  It was scary to see Devin go off like that, but in hindsight, I was glad it happened. It made it easier to step away from him, to let go of our rapidly developing emotional connection. I’d been falling for him too fast, and his crazy overreaction proved what I’d been telling him all along, that love messed people up. It ruined lives.

  He didn’t try to contact me in the days following his outburst, and I did my best to move on. I plunged myself into work, although Leo’s absence made me think of Devin too often. Marc had taken over the project, and he was easy to work for, understanding and intelligent. Best of all, Marc and I didn’t have a complicated past, since I’d never known him before I came to New York. He convinced me to finish out the year when I waffled about leaving, and I decided to stay, since Devin wasn’t bothering me. One week turned to two, two turned to three, and then it had been a month.

  Fine. I was glad. Under Marc’s leadership, our team focused heavily on cosmological mapping, and I decided to abandon my forays into the nature of time. Honestly, it was a relief to push it off my plate. I rearranged my research files, burying the time travel ones in a “defunct research” folder, because I’d come to realize the idea was ridiculous. My father could work on time bending all he wanted, but I was done. The next time he called, I had to confess our lab was no longer supporting that line of research.

  He was instantly wrought up. “What does that mean, they aren’t supporting it?”

  “It means we’re choosing to focus on cosmological measurement—”

  “Measurement?” He cut me off, aghast. “That’s foolish. Pointless. The boundaries of space and time are always changing.”

  “It’s because of the new lab they’re building,” I explained. “It’s the most sensitive one yet. We’ll be able to take more gravitational readings, make more comparisons than we could in the past.”

  My father laughed. “Yes, let’s measure space. Won’t that make us feel big and important here on our miniscule planet in the middle of an ever-expanding universe? Scientists never focus on what’s important, because they want to measure, and organize, and posit provable theories.”

  “You’re a scientist,” I reminded him.

  “No, I’m a visionary, and you must be too. Tell your research team that you’ll continue to work on the malleability of time, and if they don’t like it, they can fire you. You can come work here in Munich.”

  “Dad, no.” That was all I needed, another flight across the ocean. “Look, I have to go. I was just about to make myself some lunch.”

  “Oh!” He went from angry to delighted. “What are you having?”

  I opened my fridge, surveying the possibilities. “Maybe a sandwich.”

  “Sandwiches are boring, honey. Get that man of yours to take you out.”

  I pushed a package of questionable lunchmeat aside and got a soft drink instead. “I stopped seeing him last month. I told you. Remember?”

  “You stopped seeing the pilot?”

  “I’ve stopped seeing everyone.” I filled my glass halfway with ice, then tipped over the soda can, filling it to the top. “I’m busy with work right now.”

  “Oh, Ella. You don’t want to spend your whole life alone.”

  “Who are you dating?” I asked, to shut him down before he got going. “You’re spending your life alone.”

  I could see him puttering around his apartment, navigating flickering computer screens and books. “No. I have your mother.”

  I took a big swig of cola. “Really?”

  He was quiet a moment, and I thought of Devin, and love, and what it was like to miss someone you couldn’t get over. I missed Devin every day, even though I’d never admit it, and my love for him didn’t even approach the deep bond my mother and father had forged during their years together.

  “Your mother is still out there,” he said when he finally spoke. “She’ll always exist somewhere in the backwards and forwards of time.”

  “She’s dead, dad. Mom is dead.” I spoke shrilly, in frustration. “She’s been dead since I was fifteen.”

  “No, as long as I love her and seek her, she’s with me,” said my old, lonely, crazy father. “Love is stronger than time. Love is stronger than d
eath.”

  Love is a myth. Love is stupid. I didn’t say those things, but I felt them so hard. What was the point? My dad would never change, he’d never stop trying to find his way back to my mother’s side.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to work on the time thing anymore,” I said. “I’m just not able to, with work and politics. You know how it is.”

  “Sure, honey. It’s okay. But Ella…” He cleared his throat. “I think you should still work on the love thing. It’s more wondrous than any of the scientific projects in the world.”

  I watched the bubbles pop in my glass, trying not to tear up. “How can you say that, after the way you’ve lived all these years? After the way you’ve missed mom?”

  “When you love someone, you’ll understand. I wish you’d realize that love’s not as scary as you think.” He sighed. I could hear the squeak of him settling into his favorite chair. “My sweet daughter,” he said gently. “Why are you afraid of everything? Why don’t you just live? You don’t have forever. Nobody has forever. You should think about that.”

  “If you learn to manipulate time, I’ll have forever.” I was being a bitch. I deserved to have my face slapped, for real this time, but he wasn’t that kind of father. He only tsked at me, and gave another sigh.

  “Even if I could manipulate time, there would still be moments you shouldn’t miss, those magical things that happen in real time, every day. You know what I mean? When you think about it, you have to have somewhere—or someone—to travel to.”

  Scientifically, that wasn’t accurate, but Devin appeared in my head like a continent on a map. Here be Devin. He’ll love you. He’ll protect you. He saved your life.

  “Dad, I should go,” I said. “I’m in a bad mood.”

  “Why, honey?”

  I heard another creak as he got comfortable in his old chair, which used to be my mother’s chair. I called him a bad father, but he made time when he needed to, time to sit down and be there for me.

  “It’s just…the pilot, you know?” I pressed my fingers to my eyes, wondering why I was going here with my father, of all people. “We kind of broke up in a bad way. Not that we were dating, but I liked him. I was just…too afraid to let things get serious.”