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Gabriel’s Light © March 2013 by Dakota Trace
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Gabriel’s Light
Doms of Chicago, Book Seven
by
Dakota Trace
Dedication:
A special thanks goes out to not only my wonderful editors, Gloria and Sheri but also my new beta reader, Yvette. Without you ladies in my life this book would’ve never come to fruition in the manner it has. I can’t thank you enough.
Prologue I: Him
Late Fall, Chicago
Stirring the simmering pot on top of the stove in his well-stocked kitchen, Gabriel Poulanos leaned in to smell the fragrant aroma of tomatoes, basil and oregano. His Nonna would’ve been appalled to see him cooking the Italian food but his little Sara had made him one of the happiest men the world today. Almost as happy as she’d made him when she’d accepted his collar over five years ago. She’d told him yes when he’d asked her on a bended knee to marry him. They’d just found out she was carrying his child last month, but she’d asked him to wait a month before asking - to be sure of his feelings. She hadn’t wanted to be married just because she was pregnant. So a month to the date, he’d produced a beautiful marquis cut diamond. Her gorgeous blue eyes had filled with tears but she’d said yes. So he figured Nonna would forgive him for cooking something other than their cherished Greek food for his soon to be wife. More than anything she’d wanted him to have a family. And at nearly forty he guessed he couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t a young man any more.
He was just getting ready to slip the pasta into the boiling water when there was a knock on the front door. He paused, setting the uncooked pasta on the counter. It was probably Sara. She had a habit of trying to carry too much at once. Grabbing the dishtowel off his shoulder, he dried his hands with it as he walked to the through the front hall to the door.
“Did you forget your key again, louloúdi mou?” He reached for the door and made his voice gruff. Even though he wasn’t displeased with her, he knew what it did to his little submissive. She loved the humiliation he could dish out.
“Excuse me?” Two men stood in front of him but it was the man with sandy brown hair and an ill-fitting suit jacket who spoke.
Gabriel quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry. I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Are you Gabriel Poulanos?” The man checked his notebook. “The owner of Pínaka ti̱s Mi̱téras?”
He nodded. “One of the owners. My father still owns part of it.” A frown crossed his face as a thought struck him. “Has something happened at the restaurant? If so, I’d be the one you’ll need to talk to, since Dad retired to Arizona last year.”
“This has nothing to do with the restaurant. I’m Detective Sean Anderson, and this is my partner Detective Zak Bobrow. We’re detectives at the 28th precinct...” He gave a sigh. “…this is never easy. I’m here because after stopping by the restaurant, we were informed that Sara Kempton was more than just your accountant.”
A sinking feeling filled Gabriel’s stomach. “Yes, we were engaged. I just asked her to marry me earlier today. In fact, she should be home anytime now.”
“I’m sorry to inform you but Sara Kempton was mugged earlier this afternoon. We believe it may have been because the mugger thought she had the bank deposit for restaurant…”
“Oh, my God.” Panic had him wrenching his light jacket off the coat tree next to the door. “Since I was leaving early, I made the afternoon deposit. Is she okay? What hospital is she in? Northwestern Memorial?”
“Mr. Poulanos, I’m sorry, but she’s dead. When the attacker didn’t find anything of value on her, we think he took his rage out on her. She was stabbed several times and bled out before the paramedics could arrive.”
Anguish, disbelief, even anger had him falling to his knees as he shook his head. Detectives Anderson and Bobrow caught him, guiding him to the bench he kept in his hall for removing boots and other footwear. The same bench he’d made love to his Sara on this morning. He’d merely flipped up her skirt and sank inside her wet depths, giving her the slow hard fuck she’d begged him for. And now his submissive was gone…there would be no more gasping pleas from her, no more surprise blowjobs under his desk, no more Sara…period. “No. She can’t be….I just saw her at lunch today. She can’t be dead.” Then it struck him, he hadn’t only lost his lover but the mother of his child as well. “We were going to get married, have our baby….” Tears stung his eyes as he buried his face in his hands. His world was in shambles. He’d lost everything, his soon-to-be wife, his lover, his submissive, and even their unborn child. The gut wrenching agony in the vicinity of his heart was almost more than he could stand. He doubted another person had ever felt like this…alone, desolate and unable to go on.
Prologue II: Her
Four Months Later, Southern Greece
The pounding on the cottage door had Zhenya Sikkenga - soon to be Addi, jumping. Her nerves had been on edge since the fight with her lying, cheating husband. A marriage which she’d thought was solid, almost perfect, had been nothing more than a ruse - pretty foil which had no value. Ossie didn’t love her, and probably never had. He’d wanted the perfect wife. One who would obey without question, not question when he said he was working late. And he found it in me, until one of the husbands of our guests came and told me what a louse Ossie actually was. How he walked in on the other man fucking his wife.
“God please don’t let it be another irate husband. I just want to get my things packed and be gone before Ossie comes back.” She gazed upwards. “Is it too much to ask to get me and my baby away safely?” Cupping her hand over her stomach, she hoped the little one inside her understood why she was doing this. If she couldn’t trust her husband, how was she supposed to raise a child with him? Not that she would deny Ossie his child, she just couldn’t be with him.
“Kyría mou parakaló̱ na anoíxei ti̱n pórta. Eínai i̱ astynomía.”
The rapid fire Greek sent chills down her spine. Why were the police here? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Fear
built inside her as she cautiously approached the door. With trembling fingers, she slowly twisted the knob. Opening it, she saw three uniformed officers and her father-in-law, Sebastene Sikkenga. Why was he here? There was a sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Which she was sure had nothing to do with anything good. His prejudice against Americans was almost unreasonable. At times she thought Ossie had married her just to piss the old man off. And there was nothing she could do about the fact her father was an American-Greek who’d come back to the old country, fallen for her mother, and chose to stay.
“Ossie isn’t here.” She tugged nervously at the folds of her dress after they introduced themselves.
“Of course he’s not here. Because of you, you american pórni̱, my son is dead.” Sebastene hissed, his weathered face turning beet red, his silver hair mused and his upper lip lifted in a sneer.
Shock hit her. Even as much as she detested her husband at the moment, she had loved him, and there was probably still a part of her, one which wanted to forgive and forget how he’d hurt her if it would mean he wouldn’t be dead. Instinctively her hand went over her stomach in hopes of settling her churning stomach. “It can’t be. He just left here less than an hour ago.” A tear slipped down her cheek.
“And was killed in a car accident.” One of the uniformed officers stepped forward, sympathy on his face. “We believe he was drunk, Mrs. Sikkenga.”
“Don’t call her that! She’s no longer my son’s wife. He was going to divorce her. He called me upset, told me he was going to a family friend’s because she locked him out of the house again. She was the one who drove him to drink every night, until tonight he’d had enough. My son couldn’t take it any longer. He had to escape his pórni̱ of a wife. She’s responsible. Arrest her!”
Zhenya flinched. It seemed surreal. She couldn’t believe he was accusing her of driving Ossie to his death. Maybe she had…he’d come home with vodka on his breath, and she had fought with him, driving him out of their home to another woman’s arms. If she’d waited until he was sober, then maybe he’d still be alive. Corella had always told her there was a responsibility for every action. God how she wished her best friend was here now.
“We cannot arrest her for an accident she did not cause.” The lead officer hissed.
“She killed him!”
She jumped back as he lunged at her. The only thing that saved her were the two officers grabbing him by his arms, keeping him from attacking her.
“Mr. Sikkenga, get a hold of yourself. We let you come with us as a favor, to comfort your son’s wife, not so you could attack her.” The lead officer scowled at him.
“Fine.” Sebastene’s chest heaved, spittle flying from his mouth. “You can’t arrest the killing whore, but I want her gone! She has no right to this home. I paid for it and it belongs to me. Remove her from the premises! I’ll not allow the cause of my son’s death to reside under my roof!”
Looking over his shoulder at her the lead officer spoke softly. “Is that true, ma’am?”
Zhenya wrapped her arms around her waist, before finally nodding. The villa was part of the family resort, and owned by the elder Sikkenga, not her nor Ossie. He legally had every right to evict her. “I’ll go.” She pushed the words past her tight throat, trying not to give in to the need to rail against her bigoted father-in-law. “If I may have a few minutes to pack a bag?”
“No! Everything in this home belongs to my family. She gets nothing!”
“Mr. Sikkenga, if you do not restrain yourself, I’m going to have the other officers remove you.”
The man settled back down. “Fine. But I want you to check her bag. Nothing of value leaves this house.”
“I’ll check her bag, but not because you asked. Now sit.” The officer ordered. “Ma’am?” he gestured for her to follow.
Entering the room she shared with Ossie, she went to the open bag. “As you can see, I was in the process of packing. In this bag, I have nothing but clothing, which I’m sure you’ll agree has little value.” She raked a shaky hand through her hair, hating the suspicion in the man’s eyes.
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes, away. My husband and I did fight tonight, and it wasn’t because he wanted a divorce, I did…on the grounds of adultery. And there’s the proof.” She picked up the photos the husband of Ossie’s lover had given her. “I’ll not stay with a man I cannot trust.”
She sank to the bed as the officer took them. Her world was in shambles. She’d lost everything: her husband, her Master, and now even possibly her freedom. The gut wrenching numbness in the vicinity of her heart was almost more than she could bear. She wondered if there was another person on Earth who felt like this…alone, desolate, and unsure of what the future had in store.
Chapter One
Six Months Later
“Zhenya! Over here.”
Stamping the snow off her boots, Zhenya Addi moved through the front door of Pínaka ti̱s Mi̱téras. Looking around for the owner of the voice, it didn’t take her long to spot fellow submissive, Nisey Richardsen. Standing next to her, was her best friend and sister-in-law, Kalinda Redding-LaFontane. Waddling towards the table, she wanted to protest the pink helium balloons and silver ribbons decorating the several tables. She wasn’t sure about this baby shower thing the girls had insisted upon throwing for her, but she’d gone along with it, just to keep peace. Because if Nisey wheedled anymore about it being an American tradition I just have to participate in, I’d have screamed. Sometimes it was just better to go with the flow.
“I see you made it, girl.” Nisey drew her into her arms, swollen belly and all. “It’s a good thing too, because if I had to track you down, I’d tell Máister and we both know he wouldn’t have a problem bending you over and paddling your butt for being difficult.”
Heat filled Zhenya’s face. “It wouldn’t be the first time, now would it? He takes his role as a protector quite seriously.” Since she’d arrived in Chicago six months ago and had been befriended by Nisey, Caelan Doherty had taken her safety very seriously. At her request, he’d stepped into the role Ossie had abandoned with his death. Not only did her friend’s Dom give her a roof over her head, by allowing her to move into his townhouse and stay in his sister’s old apartment above his and Nisey’s heads, but he also doled out punishment if he thought it was deserved. Like the one and only time she’d stayed out all night. She’d gotten caught up by the lights off Navy Pier and her own thoughts. When she’d finally made it home around dawn, he’d been waiting. After explaining how dangerous her little stunt had been, he’d bent her over his knee and warmed her bottom but good for scaring not only him but Nisey as well.
“But there was no need to go to such extremes, Nisey. My cab got stuck in traffic. There was an accident at West Van Buren and Halsted.” She shook her head as Kalinda rounded the table to help her off with her coat.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Gabriel joined them, looking a bit better than the last time Zhenya had seen him. The bags under his eyes were gone now, and his skin had a very healthy glow despite it being January. It’d been nearly nine months since the death of his submissive. “With the freezing rain on top of the snow fall last night, it’s turning into an ice skating rink outside.” He took the coat from Kalinda. “The guys just called. Your menfolk want you three ladies to stay put, until Josh comes to pick you up after the shower. He said it was non-negotiable.”
Kalinda sighed at the mention of one of her Doms, but leaned in to give Gabriel a one armed hug. “Understood. We’ll be good little girls and stay here until Sir can come fetch us.” She smiled up at Gabriel, and it was all Zhenya could do not to shove her friend aside.
The sinfully handsome restaurant owner had been elusive ever since she’d cornered him nearly five months ago. It had been the same night she’d ended up stuck inside of Pínaka ti̱s Mi̱téras for several hours under a ‘safe haven’ lock-down, because Olivia Metjka, the owner of the BDSM club Gabriel frequented, had been targe
ted by a street gang. Since then he’d gone out of his way to avoid her. She could only imagine what Nisey had done to finagle Gabriel into allowing her to hold Zhenya’s baby shower in the backroom of Pínaka ti̱s Mi̱téras.
“Thanks. I really don’t want to answer to Caelan, Josh or Dominic if you pull some lame-brained stunt like driving back to Evanston in this weather.” He pressed a brotherly kiss to Kalinda’s head. “Besides fatherhood hasn’t mellowed your men in the least bit, Kalinda. I’d rather not risk it.”
Digging into the pocket of her jeans, she pulled out her key ring. She jingled them. “Here take these if you’re so scared of my big bad Doms. I can’t likely leave without them.”
Gabriel gave a put out sigh. “Keep your keys, your word is good enough, Kalinda. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Lucia will bring back the rest of the guests as they arrive. Enjoy your shower, Zhenya.” He gave her a shallow nod before leaving the room.
“Don’t take it personally.” Nisey placed her hand on Zhenya’s arm to guide her into the chair of honor. One with pink crepe streamers decorating its high back. “He’s been distant with everyone since Sara’s death.”
Zhenya gave a rueful smile as she rested her hands on her distended belly. “Everyone loses someone, Nisey. It all depends upon how you deal with the loss. I was lucky. I have little Sophia as a reason to go on. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d been in his shoes. Eventually something will change and then he’d come out of his shell. I’m foolish enough to hope it’s me, but I have no illusions about my attractiveness now that I have a child. It’ll take a special Dom to take on not only a worthless sub, but one who also has a child.”
Nisey’s hands flew to her hips. “What have I told you about that, Zhenya Sisneros? There was nothing defective in you. Your husband simply wasn’t the correct man for you.”
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