Don't Come

by Jessica Gadziala

  Trying to convince a woman to give me a second chance.

  Hell, just having to try at all.

  "Well, don't take too long thinking about it," he told me, moving to stand. "I figure you're going to be useless the rest of the day, so I am going to go with my man to an early dinner," he declared, walking out the door.

  Figuring he was right, I called it a day too, leaving everything on my desk to be dealt with when I had less on my mind.

  "Oh, Mr. Domenech," Richard, the doorman, called as I moved to breeze past him. "I have something for you," he told me when I turned, not used to him trying to catch my attention.

  "Something for me?" I asked, moving closer as he reached into his pocket. "Normally, I would leave this at the desk, but she specifically asked me to return this to you," he told me, producing a box.

  But not just any box.

  A small bluish green box.

  A Tiffany box.

  Since I didn't give five-thousand dollar jewelry to women - ever - I knew exactly who it had come from.

  "She dropped this off herself?" I asked, taking it from his hand.

  "Yes, sir. She looked a lot better today too," he added, his tone almost a little pointed, something I didn't quite understand.

  "Better than when?" I asked, pocketing the jewelry box with every intention of returning it to its rightful owner. The stubborn ass.

  "Than the night she left crying," he specified, and there was no denying it now. He was pissed at me. That was the tone he had. Clearly, when he stopped seeing her as an escort, he had gotten a bit of a soft spot for Adley. Who would blame him? And then she left upset. And he was pissed at me for causing that.

  "Crying," I said, feeling my stomach twist.

  While it did do one thing I wanted - confirm that she did, indeed, have feelings for me, it also made me feel like shit to make her bolt out of the building with tears.

  I was better than that.

  I had to do better than that.

  "Yes, sir," he agreed with a firm nod.

  "Don't worry, Richard," I started. "Once I wash this day off of me, I will go and make sure she is all better."

  "That's a wise move," he agreed, opening the door for me finally. "A girl like that shouldn't be falling into a cab crying."

  "Agreed," I said, going inside, washing off the day as I planned, then going back down with two things for her - one in each breast pocket.

  She might have blocked me.

  But I had her address.

  It might have been pushy and presumptuous to simply show up there and demand an audience, but I wasn't going to let her go.

  It had never truly occurred to me how powerless I was.

  I felt it as I made my way toward Williamsburg.

  I had no control here.

  I could show up, try to state my case, and that was it.

  It was up to Adley whether she would listen, and whether if she did listen, if she would hear or believe me. It was up to her if she would give it a shot, give me another chance to prove I could give her what she needed. Not just the strong hand she craved, but everything else as well.

  I had to do something completely and utterly new to me.

  I had to submit to her will.

  TWELVE

  Adley

  Sometimes things were a cliche because they worked.

  Eating ice cream when you're sad feels comforting.

  Taking a long, hot bath when you're stressed calms you down.

  Listening to angry chick music when you were cheated on gives you a release.

  And throwing yourself into work to avoid a swirling vortex smack-dab in the center of your heart was a perfectly good coping mechanism.

  I got more work done over the weekend than I had the entire week before.

  Sure, I felt like crap. Since I wasn't sleeping well and was pretty much running on caffeine - so much that I was pretty sure my skin was buzzing. But, hey, my mind was occupied. And I was making money. That was the definition of a win/win, wasn't it?

  It wasn't that I thought I could go on forever this way, ignoring things, refusing to process them.

  I wasn't an idiot.

  I knew that the longer you put it off, the more it was going to start seeping into your day, ruining your mood, screwing with your productivity.

  I just needed the crutch while I was lame. As soon as I was feeling a little sturdier, I would stand on my own two feet again, be strong enough to handle the pain that came with healing.

  Soon.

  But not today.

  Today, I was creating teaser material for some niche romance author who made books about aliens falling in love with cowboys.

  Odd, but fun.

  A good distraction.

  When you were trying to painstakingly put the slightest green tint on the skin of a gorgeous stock model and attach her to a sexy cowboy - hat and all - and layer the embracing couple on a background of wild horses... and a spaceship... it was hard to think of anything else.

  Like his eyes.

  Hands.

  Voice.

  Smile.

  I had just powered down my laptop, my eyes so sleep-deprived and swollen that looking at a screen for another minute was likely to bring on a blinding migraine when I heard a knock at my door.

  "The pot dealers are across the hall!" I yelled, not bothering to get up from my cross-legged position on the couch, tying my hair up into a loose top knot. The knocking stopped, then started again. "Oh my God, did you stunt your braincell growth as a kid or what? This is not where the pot dealers..." I snapped, opening the door.

  Where I promptly lost what I was saying.

  Because it wasn't a couple of burn-outs at my door.

  Oh, no.

  It was Nathaniel.

  God, even just looking at him hurt.

  "I haven't smoked pot since I was seventeen, but I appreciate the information on how to get some if I wanted to score," he told me, giving me a small, lopsided smile. If I didn't know any better, I would say it was almost a bit... shy? But that wasn't possible. Nathaniel wasn't shy.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked, trying not to shift uncomfortably as his eyes roamed over me, making me suddenly very aware of the fact that I was wearing leggings with a Santa print on them and a sweatshirt that was about three sizes too big.

  When his gaze got back to my face, though, I didn't find distaste there, but rather amusement. "I might prefer this to those little black dresses," he told me, tone soft.

  Ugh.

  Soft Nathaniel.

  He was pretty irresistible.

  But he was also fleeting.

  And my heart couldn't take the bait and switch.

  "You didn't answer my question."

  "Because it wasn't a real question," he countered, shrugging. "You know why I'm here."

  "When a woman blocks a man's phone number, it is not an invitation to come over and confront her in person. That is the stuff of the eight o'clock news when some bitter ex comes around waving a gun, and kills the girl who left him."

  "I don't have a gun. But you don't have to take me at my word," he said, lips teasing up slightly. "I wouldn't be opposed to you frisking me. Thoroughly."

  Damnit.

  Did he have to be soft and funny?

  I didn't have a defense against this.

  I wasn't sure I wanted one.

  "Nathaniel," I said, trying for a forceful tone.

  "I'm here for you," he answered, shrugging.

  "I know blocking you wasn't exactly the most mature thing to do, but I do think it made things clear."

  "It was clear," he agreed. "Though the motives behind it weren't."

  "The motives don't matter."

  "Right. That's why all forms of law enforcement employ profilers whose job it is to figure out motives. Because they don't matter," he said, then exhaled hard. "Adley, invite me in. We have some talking to do."

  "I don't want to talk," I insisted, even though my voice didn't sound nea
rly as strong as I wanted it to. "That was the point of blocking your phone number."

  "See, I don't think you mean that. I think you do want to talk to me. I think you're afraid that you won't like what I have to say."

  My arms moved up, crossing over my chest, creating a barrier. I needed as many as I could get.

  "Look, this isn't about you, Nathaniel," I said, shaking my head. "I clearly signed up for something that I wasn't prepared for."

  "See, now that's where you're wrong," he said, moving in slightly, towering over me, stealing all the air out of the room. "You were prepared. I could feel how much you were prepared."

  "That's not what I meant," I insisted, feeling my cheeks warm up slightly.

  "You crave what I give you, pet."

  I nodded, lifting my chin. "I'm not denying that. But..."

  "But what?"

  "But I wasn't ready for what it would bring up."

  "What did it bring up, Adley?" he asked, taking a step in, a step closer to me.

  "It doesn't matter," I insisted, feeling my chest getting tight.

  "It matters to me," he said, reaching to snag my chin, pulling it up until I had no choice but to face him. "What did it bring up, Adley?"

  "More than I bargained for," I hedged. "More than you bargained for too."

  "You don't know what I bargained for."

  "Yeah, I do. Because you told me. You told me it was casual. You told me it was just sex and play. Then you told me again when you explained how the collars worked and took mine away from me. I might not have been able to view it the way you did, Nathaniel, but you have been very clear."

  "How did you view it?"

  "I wanted to see it your way. To just experience something new. But I'm just not... I don't know. I'm not wired that way. I don't do casual sex. I gave it a try. It didn't work for me."

  "Meaning?"

  He knew exactly what I meant.

  He just wanted to make me say it.

  And, just this once, he didn't get to have the power to demand things from me.

  "You can't make me tell you everything you want to hear anymore, Nathaniel. This isn't the bedroom. You're not in charge here."

  "I don't want to make you do anything. I am asking you to tell me why it didn't work out for you."

  "Because I wanted more, okay?" I snapped, whirling around, and walking over toward my kitchen, knowing the last thing my overly anxious system needed right then was more caffeine, but needing an excuse not to look at him while I admitted the truth. "You were very clear about what you were offering me. And I agreed to that. But I couldn't help the fact that it didn't end up being what I needed."

  "And what did you need?" he asked, suddenly right behind me, making me whirl around to see he had closed the door and moved to follow me without my realizing.

  With those deep, beautiful eyes on me, sweet and patient, I couldn't seem to find the desire to lie or evade anymore.

  "You," I admitted, feeling my shoulders slump as the weight slipped off of them finally. "I needed you. Not just the Dom. Not just the little bits of you that you gave me here and there. I wanted it all."

  "Why didn't you tell me that instead of running off?"

  "Because it was never an option."

  "What if it was?"

  "It wasn't," I insisted, feeling a bit of the guard break, feeling the emotions seeping out.

  "But what if it was?" he asked again, reaching across the counter to grab my wrist when I went to turn away from him as the coffee pot bleeped the finished brew.

  "It's pointless to discuss hypotheticals. It wasn't an option. I needed that option. So I moved on. That's it."

  "Except that's not it," he said, holding onto my wrist as he moved around the counter, trapping me in the small rectangle of my kitchen. "That's why I'm here. Because I realized something when you left me."

  My belly flip-flopped, refusing to remain impartial. The damn traitor. This was not the time for wishful thinking.

  "What did you realize?" I asked, tone careful, not wanting hope to slip into it. Not wanting to be any more exposed than I already was.

  "That it wasn't enough for me either. Don't," he cut me off when I opened my mouth to say something snarky about not being his usual sub. "I've been doing this for a long time, pet. I've had many different subs."

  "I really don't want to hear about your other subs right now."

  "I'm making a point," he said, lips tipped up slightly.

  "Then make it. I have a cowboy waiting on his green-skinned alien lover to finish."

  His face froze at that, brows going low, lips parting, full-on confusion for a long second. "Let's come back to that one," he said, eyes crinkling a bit as he smiled. "Because I think I need to hear all about that. But my point is, I'm not someone who does anything flippantly. I have never mistakingly put a collar on a sub. I have never put a collar on a sub. Period. It never even crossed my mind. But not only did I see it and buy it, but I took it out and put it around your throat."

  "You didn't mean to."

  "I didn't plan ahead to," he corrected. "Like I told you, that is something that should be thought out; it should be discussed. Both of us would need to agree to it going in, knowing what it meant. But that didn't mean it was a mistake, Adley. And then you were gone before I could explain to you that it was different."

  "What was different?" I asked, not wanting to base my hopes on a miscommunication.

  "You," he shot back. "Fucking you, Adley. You were different. You are different. And maybe I was too busy enjoying giving you everything you wanted and needed from me in bed to give it enough thought, or to explore it, but it's true nonetheless. It's been true for months. I was invested in this before you even agreed to meet me."

  "Why would you insist it was casual then?"

  "Because I don't even know how to navigate this. Do you have any idea how strange that feels for someone who has always been the dominant one in every interaction with a woman, to be so clueless? To not know what I'm doing?"

  "Sucks sometimes to be just a normal person, huh?" I asked, lips curving up slightly.

  "Yeah," he agreed, shaking his head. "But I want to give it a try."

  "Being a normal person."

  "Being with you," he corrected. "Normally. And kinkily," he added with a wicked gleam to his eyes.

  "Do you even know what it means to be with a woman... normally?"

  "Well, I would imagine we hang out here," he said, waving a hand around at my apartment, "and watch ER reruns and eat cheap Chinese food. There's a place right around the corner from here that has the best boneless spare ribs I've ever had."

  "Wait," I said, brows furrowing. "How do you know that?"

  "I didn't grow up with a silver spoon, pet. I spent all my twenties in Brooklyn. This is where all the poor entrepreneurs live, eating bodega ramen, and drinking that battery acid they call energy drinks."

  "Wait... no," I said, smiling because I was sure he was screwing with me.

  "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I remember when that condemned coffee place across the street was a head shop."

  "It's condemned?" I yelped, moving past him toward the window where I could just barely make out signs on the door. "Damnit. I was starting to like that place."

  "You've lived here long enough to know you can't get attached to anything," he told me as he moved in behind me, trapping me against the windows.

  "What did you do? What do you do?" I added, needing more pieces now that he was willing to give them to me.

  He moved back a step. "Do you know what BDSMPA stands for?" he asked, making me turn to face him. "The event we went to," he clarified.

  "BDSM is pretty self-explanatory."

  "Right. And the P and A stand for Professionals Association."

  BDSM Professionals Association.

  Professionals?

  "I'm going to need more than that."

  "I spent years on Evander's website. As a user. Tracking down subs. Frustrated by the casual
profile surfing and bullshit that went on there, but finding it was the only legit option out there."

  No.

  No way.

  "So I came up with a different idea. For people who were more serious. For ones who were serious enough to pay."

  "You own Casual DS Encounters."

  Which, well, it made sense, didn't it?

  That was how he got DOM as a screen name, because he was the first one on the site. It was how he saw my profile so quickly and singled me out.

  "Yes," he agreed, nodding. "Took years to get the capital raised to have it built the way I wanted it. Then took another few years to find an audience. And a while after that to become what it is today."

  "So... you're living in a hotel because you opened a D/s website."

  That was insane.

  "Serious people in this lifestyle are willing to pay serious money to have access to other like-minded people. Especially now with so many newcomers, so many dabblers, and people who have no idea what this is really all about. At any given time, we have a steady fifteen-hundred loyal, active accounts. From there, it fluctuates up and down. But fifteen-hundred is enough."

  Enough.

  I had never done math so fast in my head as I did then.

  Fifteen-hundred users at fifty dollars. That was seventy-five thousand a month. For a whole year, that was just shy of a million.

  A million.

  To do nothing.

  They did nothing.

  But kept up the website.

  Answered emails.

  Normal, everyday work stuff.

  "Wow."

  That was really all I could manage.

  You heard that term all the time A million-dollar idea. And Nathaniel had been able to find his. Doing, essentially, something he loved, something he was passionate about.

  "What?" he asked, seeing me smile.

  "You became successful doing something you like... and you took Evander down a few pegs in the process."

  "Yeah, that's a win/win right there, huh? Believe it or not, he was an even bigger asshole before my site and app took off. He had no competition."

  "I've been on his site," I admitted, a little embarrassed. "It's full of amateur porn and couples looking for threesomes."

  "Yeah, it is," he agreed with a smile.