by Sienna Mynx
***
Destini could barely unlock the door. Thankfully, the wind whipping up behind her blew it inward. She carried a load of her stuff from her office in her arms. She would clean out the rest of the office tomorrow and start packing this weekend. Maybe she’d cancel on Russell and Naiya and just pack up and move before the two weeks were up. Somehow, she needed to make a clean break.
Maybe.
Destini stopped. Her books, her purse, her keys all dropped to the floor. Bryce sat forward. He looked at her with pleading eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“We need to talk.”
“I told you if you came here again I would call the police.”
“Did I hurt you last night? Did I cross the line?” he asked, his voice shaky and unsure. Destini sighed. She gathered her things, only after she closed and locked her door. She put everything in its place, ending with hanging her coat in the foyer closet. Bryce was forced to wait with the question hanging between them. When she returned, she found him seated, slumped forward, his elbows to his knees and his eyes cast downward.
“No, you didn’t force me. I let you abuse me, and you did so willingly. So we’re fucked up. Just don’t insult me by saying alcohol made you do it. You enjoyed hurting me.”
“Destini, sweetheart, I’m so very sorry.”
“Say what you have to say. Then go.”
“I got scared. When you said it was over, I tried to tare up the contract. I tried to cancel you from my heart. I got scared and just the thought of losing you. I started drinking. I never drink. I’m not a drinker. You know this.”
“Are you saying what happened is my fault?” she snapped.
“No, God no. It’s all on me. I’m sorry. Whatever happened last night is not who we—who I am. I mean… I hurt you and I never ever want to hurt you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now go,” she said.
“Don’t do this to me.”
“It’s done,” she said, looking through him. She couldn’t imagine anything he’d say now to convince her otherwise.
“Destini, I know my brother came here.”
Destini’s eyes revealed fear. “What?”
“Don’t deny it. He threatened you, didn’t he?”
Thaddeus Gaylor’s threat was the dark cloud she walked under all day. She had no doubt he would make good on it. And if Bryce were as screwed up as any kid would be with that cold bastard as a twin brother, she had no hope that he could fix it.
Bryce sensed her. His head slowly lifted and he looked directly into her eyes. “He won’t take you from me. Trust me, Destini, he’s taken plenty.”
“I’m not yours, his, or Gaylor’s. I’m my own person, and I wish to leave. It’s my prerogative. Unless what he said is true about slavery,” she said. Her accusation landed its mark. Bryce actually looked away with pain.
“We belong together. Don’t make into something evil or corrupt. It was… something pure,” he said.
“Why, Sir? Because the sex is good? It sure as hell wasn’t last night. Want to see the bruises on my wrists, my chest?”
He paled. He looked as if he’d be sick. She didn’t care. To hell with him and his black roses and bullshit legends. All it amounted to was that he and his brother were sadists. And she was no masochist. Well, not anymore.
“It’s not about sex with you and me. We transcended that weeks ago.”
“The hell it isn’t. From the day I met you in that tacky club to the day I arrived here, it has been nothing but sex. Sex and love don’t mix. That’s the lesson you taught me. Hell, you can’t even say the word.”
“You don’t understand my brother. My father made him into a monster. My mother healed me, but not him.”
“I don’t care. Not my problem. The man wants me gone. I want to be gone. It works to both our favor.”
“I didn’t bring you here to be what my mother became. I didn’t bring any woman here to be what my parents are. I fought it until I met you. Then, I thought that there was something to controlling and owning desire, and with you I proved it. We connected in ways I didn’t think could happen. Finally, I connected with someone, and someone connected with me. Nothing, not even my pedigree, is worth risking and losing you to the madness of the Gaylor life. I know that now.”
There was something in his plea that hit her hard. Was it sincerity, desperation, or just a projection of his family’s bullshit? A trick. It was all lies and games and she was sick of it. She couldn’t look at him so she averted her eyes, focused on the door, she waited to see him walk out of it. “I can’t continue to do this. I can’t give up my life and my career for something you won’t even put a name to.”
“I’m sorry for that Destini. I’m sorry for my jealousy. I’m sorry for... for my obsessive ways. I can change.”
“It’s not enough, Sir.”
“Don’t quit on me.”
“I already have.” She got up and so did he. She turned for the kitchen. He reached and took her hand in his and pressed her palm to his heart.
“Don’t give up on me. I can’t do this again?”
“Do what?”
“Start over. After the ways you’ve made me feel, I’d want to try to get close to another person. But I won’t survive it. I can’t. I can’t breathe without you, Destini. Do you understand?”
“You hurt me last night,” her bottom lip quivered and betrayed her.
“I know. I am sorry. I would rather take my own life than hurt you. Forgive me. Let me near your forgiving heart again, Destini. Have dinner with me.”
“What will that prove?”
“Have dinner with my family.”
“What?” she snatched her hand away.
Bryce captured it once more and kissed her knuckles. “Before I came here I discovered my brother returned with my father and mother. You have to meet them. See who we really are. I want you to understand why, why I’m so fucked up. See them for yourself to understand.”
“No. I won’t go near that man. Once was enough.”
“Destini, Destini.” He drew her into his arms. “Have dinner with us, and let me prove to you that I’m not what he said I was. I want you to stay. What I mean to say is, I want you, regardless of my family, to be with me. For us to be together, and I want my father to know that. I want my mother to know it. I don’t care what my brother thinks. Before I can go public, before you and I can go public with our commitment, I want... we have to clear the air with them.”
“Who says I want to go forward?” she asked.
“I do, and you do.”
He kissed her softly. “Think about it. One dinner, then decide. Give me that much.”
Twenty
Bryce was punctual. The next day, after school and a quick shower, she found him at her door. He had a boyish almost shy smile to his face. He showered her with compliments, not his usual ‘you look sexy baby’, that were sweet and shy. He fumbled with being a gentleman all the way to the car. He wanted to make sure she was comfortable, turning the heat on full blast. Again he asked if she was comfortable, turning it down. It was difficult to determine who was more nervous as he reached and touched her hand, but when she didn’t respond, he removed it. Destini sat through it all, contemplating. No matter who the Gaylors were or weren’t, she had an entire night to contemplate. The answer was always the same. And it broke her heart. She didn’t want or need Sir in her life. It was Bryce that she loved and that man didn’t exist.
After he swerved around two cars, she was forced to speak. Her hand went to his leg, and she could’ve sworn he relaxed under her touch. “Bryce, I’ve had time to think.”
“Okay,” came his grim reply.
“I’m sorry that, well, I’m sorry that things have spun out of control. Maybe I have something to do with this. I signed on for it. Literally.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine and his.” Bryce said. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, making his knuckles white.
“It’s hard talking to you, and I suppose it’s hard for you to talk to me. We just never practiced much at communicating.”
His gaze turned to her as he tried driving and looking at what was slipping from his grasp.
“There’s been this intensity between you and me since we met. I admit I liked it. Part of me loves it. But part of me fears it, too,” she said.
Bryce’s gaze shifted back to the road. Destini was given the opportunity for a breath of courage when he looked away. She didn’t want to hurt him. But it would come to that. She knew it. “You see it, don’t you? It’s always this intensity, this sparring of wills and words. That can’t go on. I—”
Bryce swerved out of the lane onto the side of the road. His tires spun in the gravel and soil as her hands went to the dash to keep her from pitching forward. The car stopped. But her heart didn’t. It beat wildly in her chest, and she panted through the terror she felt. Together, they sat facing the road with the large elm trees hemming the forest on either side. She waited for her breathing to ease, and he waited for his temper to do the same. Neither of them spoke.
“Take me back home,” she finally managed. “I can’t do this tonight.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” he said.
Destini cut him a look. “There’s more?”
“My father doesn’t just believe in the folklore surrounding the Gaylor family. He lives it. He is one of seven members of the Knights of Gaylor. Along with my brother and I.”
“I figured as much,” she said dryly.
“Yes, well it’s all real,” Bryce said without the bitterness that usually accompanied any conversation about his family. It was just in his matter-of-fact voice, detached and tired. He dropped his head back on the seat. “Everything you’ve read and some of the things that you won’t find written on any Internet site or any text book is real. It’s who he is. And it’s older than anything you and I can conceive. He practices the Discipline of the Rose. The rose is a sign of rebirth. The rebirth of loyalty, faith and deliverance from weakness that the Knights feel Eve cursed Adam with the day she gave him the apple. He believes that Gaylor men are to honor tradition, and pass that down to their sons. To every Gaylor man, a son must be born to carry on this tradition. And that son must be loyal to the teachings of his father. My father had two sons. So he sees that as a sign of divinity.”
“What are you loyal to? What faith do you have?” she asked.
“It’s not like any religion. It’s about the Welsh clan, our family clan. And those men are loyal to pleasuring ourselves. It can only be achieved through strict control and felt by the submissive’s willingness to endure pain—”
“You mean he’s a sadist,” Destini blurted.
“That’s one way to say it.”
“It’s the truth,” she said.
Bryce cut her a stare. “So am I. I’m a sadist.”
“No. You aren’t. You want to be. You think you are, but—”
“I am. It’s who I am. And it’s much more than dominance. It’s a way of thinking, being,” he told her.
“What about your mother?”
Bryce refused to look at her.
“What’s her name?”
“You’ll meet her.” He started the car. He swerved back on to the road, “Welcome to the other side of the looking glass, where things are the same but nothing is what it seems. Judge me after. It’s all I can ask.”
***
Destini didn’t understand. How could she possibly? Sadism, masochism were fodder for exotic exploits of a fictional character like Rain. Sir introduced her to pleasure and yes there was pain...but not just physical. No, his torture was the worst kind. He hid from her, buried his feelings in public and barely showed them privately. He worshiped her body and left her feeling empty without the promise of his love. That was the worst. Even worse than what happened between them last night.
When presented to Mitchell and his timid wife she almost turned and bolted for the door. Mitchell Gaylor stood before them, glowering at his son, refusing to cast his cool grey eyes her way. Dressed impeccably, Destini was reminded more of an undertaker at a funeral instead of the pious leader of the Gaylor fortune. Arlene, his wife, was far stranger. She wore a soft pink Chanel suit accented with pearl buttons and embroidered lace at the cuff to match the trim of the jacket and skirt. Her blonde hair was in a perfect chignon. Her make up was freshly applied, highlighting the beauty of her emerald green eyes. But she barely made eye contact through the introduction of Destini, barely looked at her son then stood with clasped hands just behind her husband, keeping her eyes cast down the entire time.
“Welcome to Gaylor Manor, Ms. Sanders,” Mitchell said, as if the words tasted bad in his mouth. He smirked at Bryce. “Son, we weren’t aware we’d be entertaining this evening.”
Destini was floored. Bryce grabbed her hand and every eye in the room dropped to the gesture. To the displeasure of his father, Bryce then addressed himself directly to his mother.
“Is Thaddeus here?”
“In the parlor having a brandy,” his father answered.
“Good. Maybe we should all join him. I assume dinner is served. Always at seven-thirty? Oui, Madame?”
Arlene glanced up at her husband, somehow simultaneously keeping her lashes lowered. He cast her a look that Destini read clearly as an approval. She then spoke like a wind-up doll, all mechanical and syrupy sweet. “Yes, dinner is served. Welcome, Ms. Sanders. It is our great pleasure for you to dine with us this evening. Please, follow me.”
Destini half excepted to see an iron crank sticking out of her back that Mitchell Gaylor wound up every other minute to get her to move. She walked ahead and Bryce’s father followed. Destini swallowed the nervous bile rising in her throat.
“You said they invited me,” she hissed between her teeth.
“I said I wanted you to have dinner with them,” Bryce replied coolly. His hand remained tightly clasped around hers. Together they walked the long breezeway that opened to a parlor to the right and a billiard room to the left. Then there was another sitting room with walls of bookshelves. These things she caught from the corners of her eyes. It was Thaddeus Carson Gaylor who held her transfixed. He walked out into the parlor sipping from a brandy glass. He paused and locked eyes with her.
“We have company this evening,” Thaddeus said.
“Your brother thought it appropriate to bring a guest,” Mitchell Gaylor responded.
“Ah, this should make dinner interesting,” Thaddeus chuckled. “Good evening Ms. Sanders. We’ve met.”
“Hello,” she replied dryly.
“Shall we?” Bryce asked.
The men looked to him and then each other. They started toward the dinning area. She kept her vision trained on the destination ahead and steeled herself against the sour feel of rejection and corruption she felt could be her life if she and Bryce were to be a true couple.
For their arrival to not be planned, the setting didn’t indicate so. The table was long enough to seat twenty comfortably. Mitchell Gaylor sat at the head of the table. His wife, Arlene, was up and behind him smoothing his shoulders, making sure he was seated comfortably. She turned to one of her staff, pointing at his empty glass and whispering nervously. This Destini observed, all while Mitchell Gaylor kept his eyes trained on her. Thaddeus sat to the left of his father. He too stared at her coolly. Bryce led her to the table and pulled out a chair for her to sit. He took the one between her and his father, and she was grateful.
Finally, Arlene joined them, but again Destini noticed that all Arlene saw was Mitchell. The woman seemed to bloom whenever his eyes were cast her way and fade when he dismissed her. It was utter bullshit, and it was making Destini angrier by the minute.
“So do tell what this impromptu visit is about,” Mitchell asked.
“You first, father. I’m told you sent Thaddeus to pay Destini a visit.”
Destini stiffened. Thaddeus chuckled. The threat Thaddeus had de
livered was still ringing in her ears. Mitchell cut her an amused smirk. “I thought they had a nice chat. Thaddeus always greets the new members of the staff. Did he do anything to offend, Ms. Sanders?”
“Her name is Destini!” Bryce snapped. “And don’t blame her. I found out about his visit on my own. You really should make your clandestine trips to the school less obvious if you are out to intimidate and threaten those that work for me.”
Now Mitchell cut his son down with hate-filled eyes. Thaddeus seem bored with the conversation. He preferred to stare at Destini directly. But his face remained stony, expressionless. Never in her life had Destini seen a man wield so much power and control with his eyes. Bryce challenged his father with an icy glare of his own. The tension at the table was palpable. Destini hoped that Arlene would intervene, but she seemed unaware of anything that was happening in the room.
“Destini is my... she’s my lover and my friend. She works for Gaylor and will continue to do so. I want you to treat her with respect. The both of you. Are we clear?”
“Bryce—” Destini said. She put her hand on his knee under the table.
“Do we understand each other, father? We had an agreement about my return. Push me and I’ll leave.”
“Perfectly, son.” Mitchell cast his gaze back to Destini, and for the first time she saw warmth there instead of the normal chill. But like a spider approaching a struggling cocooned fly in his web, she knew not to trust it. “Ms. Sanders, Destini, forgive me and Thaddeus. If we were anything but hospitable with you. Welcome to Gaylor and to my home.”
“I, um, thanks,” she said.
She looked to Bryce. The tension in his clamped jaw didn’t lessen. Neither did his glare toward his father. Arlene made a giggling sound, and finally the tension abated.
“Oh my, dear... I forgot to add the rolls to the dinner menu tonight. Look at this. How could we have the crab bisque without the rolls? They’re Mitchell’s favorite. Are you terribly upset, dear?”
Mitchell ignored his wife, and her awkward chatter soon drifted away. And so the dinner began. First the soup and salad were presented, then the main entree. Destini barely tasted the food. She listened as Bryce updated his father and brother on the school and the staff there. She listened as Thaddeus asked a question or two, but often caught his gaze returning to her. Finally, when it was over, she thought they could leave. But Mitchell made it clear he and his sons were to have words alone. It was the first time that Arlene addressed her directly. Again, with the wind-up delivery after Mitchell gave the approving nod, she suggested they have a glass of sherry in her solarium.
