by Mari Carr
That damned folio, which he’d had his hands on once before. If only he’d known, years ago, how important it was, he would have gone back for it sooner, before his parents ordered him to look for it. The problem was…there were too many secrets hidden in those tunnels.
Running away wouldn’t be hard. What would be hard was keeping everyone else away.
For that he needed protection. He needed to know their secrets, so he could use them as a shield.
He’d had the fucking folio in his hands. He’d retrieved it from an alcove the Grand Master hadn’t discovered yet. Unfortunately, he’d stepped out of the room and found himself face-to-face with Vincent Clayton.
Caden had worn a mask, aware that others had been searching the tunnels. Not that Vincent would have recognized him, mainly because Caden had been masked the first time he’d seen Vincent as well.
Of course, that had been a much different environment. Vincent had been in the midst of a scene with a sub. Caden had observed more scenes than he could count in his lifetime, but there had been something about Vincent’s handling of the woman that caught his attention and caused him to stop and watch for a few minutes.
The sub had been bound on her hands and knees, strapped to a padded table. Vincent had been working her ass, starting with first a slender dildo barely thicker than a pen. As he fucked her ass, he played with her pussy, her nipples. He’d stop to spank her, or fuck her mouth, but he always returned to her ass. One by one, he’d worked increasingly larger dildos into her ass, each time making her beg to be stretched further, even though she’d moaned in pain at the first thrust of the larger dildo. It had been equal parts elegant and depraved, and when he’d finally forced a huge plug into her ass, Vincent had freed her, only to have her kneel and pleasure him, before finally, finally, allowing the sub to come.
The element of surprise had worked in Caden’s favor when he’d stepped out of the tiny alcove and run into Vincent. Caden had shoved Vincent back a couple of paces, allowing him just enough space to get by the large man in the tunnel. Caden wasn’t looking for a confrontation; the folio was in his hands, which meant it was more important that he escape without being recognized.
Unfortunately, his retreat was cut short when Vincent grabbed him and twisted him around. That was when Caden had dropped the folio and his flashlight.
He’d tried to retrieve the book, but when Vincent realized what he wanted, they began to wrestle for it. Caden had just gotten a hand on it when more lights flashed in their faces. Like him, Vincent was distracted.
Christian couldn’t get the image of Vincent going down in the fight or the way Caden had tried to grab the folio that Vincent had fallen on. The others had begun to run toward him, so Caden took off. Without his prize.
“Who has the folio?”
“Right now? I would assume the Grand Master.”
“You stupid, incompetent…”
Caden grinned with mirthless pleasure as his father ranted. Thwarting his father always felt good. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he wanted whatever was in that folio for himself, he might not have bothered to go.
But if the Grand Master discovered the purists’ secrets—his family’s secrets—before Caden did, those secrets lost their potency. He’d lose the leverage and protection he needed in order to protect Tabitha, Rose and himself when they finally ran.
“Who was in the tunnel, Caden? Who found that room?”
Once Caden made his way to the secret tunnel entrance, he had doubled back around and waited outside the library. He’d heard another man yell a name when they were below ground. Charlotte.
They emerged from the library less than an hour after he’d left them in the tunnel.
They weren’t hard to spot. Vincent was still groggy with blood on his shirt and the other two were helping him. He recognized Christian Stewart instantly. He was aware of Christian’s membership in the Trinity Masters. Like Caden, he was a legacy, and Christian had achieved enough fame on the Broadway stage that he was recognizable. The red-haired woman, however, was a stranger.
Caden followed them as they walked. They’d headed for the Boston Park Plaza, which told him this was likely a new trinity. The woman smiled at the doorman, who nodded and said, “Welcome back, Ms. Mead, Mr. Clayton, Mr. Rogers.”
Armed with a name, it had only taken Caden a few minutes to run a quick computer search on Charlotte Mead. He checked out her architectural firm’s website and found a photo of the woman, along with her professional bio.
He’d hit the jackpot, discovered the redhead’s identity.
“Are you listening to me, Caden? Who took that folio away from you?” His father’s patience, which had been stretched thin to begin with, was officially gone.
“Vincent Clayton, Christian Rogers Stewart and Charlotte Mead. I believe they’re a new trinity.”
His father, who had been ranting since Caden told him about the folio, went silent. Caden put down the bottle and sat up.
“Charlotte Mead?”
Caden had expected Christian’s name to be what rattled his father. After all, the Stewarts were an old family, one of the original founders of the Trinity Masters. They were well connected within the society.
So why was Charlotte so interesting? Another clue, another piece of the puzzle.
When his father spoke again, it felt as if he was thinking aloud rather than talking to Caden. “I wasn’t aware there was a Mead in the Trinity Masters. Their association with the society ended over a hundred years ago. I need to tell Barton.”
Barton Anderson was Caden’s legal father, and based on looks, more than likely Caden was Barton’s genetic son. But Barton was not his father. The man he called father, Elroy Cloud, was Barton and Victoria’s third. He wasn’t sure if it was bad luck or intuition that had led the Grand Master of the day to place his three parents together. Perhaps the leader had a sense that the three of them were evil to the core and decided not to saddle anyone else with them. Or perhaps it was fate or the stars or Satan himself who’d ordained it.
“The Meads?” Caden asked. “Who are they?”
Elroy didn’t reply, but that didn’t surprise Caden. He was used to working on a “need to know” basis for his family. As far as his parents were concerned, he and Rose were just tools, to be forged and used with no care for the fact that they weren’t tools. They were people. People who’d been broken and pieced themselves together only to be broken again.
“Forget the folio,” his father said as last. “I have something else I need you to retrieve.”
Caden resisted the urge to tell his father to go fuck himself. After all, if his father wanted something, Caden wanted it too. Wanted it first.
So instead he said, “What do you need?”
“A book of poetry.”
Caden wondered briefly if he’d heard his father correctly. “Poetry?”
“If we’re lucky, it’ll be in Charlotte Mead’s possession.”
Interesting. He needed to learn more about Charlotte Mead and her history with the Trinity Masters ASAP.
“And if we’re unlucky?” He hated saying “we.” Hated acknowledging any connection between him and his father.
“You better hope that isn’t the case.”
“So you want me to break into Charlotte Mead’s apartment and steal a book of poems? How will I even know what I’m looking for?”
“One of her ancestors was a renowned poet. She had many of her works published. This book won’t be like the others. It wasn’t released to the general public. In fact, as far as we know, there were only three copies made. The title is Sandhogs.”
“Sandhogs?”
His father didn’t illuminate. Instead, he forged on with his command. “Your grandfather located and destroyed two of them. I need you to find out if Charlotte is in possession of the third.”
“Why wouldn’t you have looked for this book before if you knew the Meads had it?”
“Because their association with the Tr
inity Masters ended several generations ago. As far as we knew, no one in the Mead family even knew of the society’s existence. It seemed riskier to launch a search of their home and possibly be caught versus letting the book rot away in their ignorant ownership.”
“What’s in this book?”
“That’s not important.”
Caden toasted himself. He’d bet himself a bottle of Scotch that his father wouldn’t answer, and once again he’d won the bet.
“You’ve failed me twice now, Caden. You’re better than this. I know it’s not in your nature to take orders—I made sure of that.”
Caden looked at the bottle, and then flung it against the wall. Glass and whiskey spread over the floor.
His father must have heard the crash because when he spoke again, there was a smile in his voice. The smile of a sadist.
“Get the book, Caden. I’ll tell your sister you said hello. And be sure to tell Rose I say hi.”
With that, the phone line went dead.
Caden wished he had another bottle to fling. It was almost over, he could feel it. Though he couldn’t say why, he was sure that this torture wouldn’t last much longer. He’d find a way out. Maybe this book of poems was it.
Then he’d be able to protect Tabitha. Tabitha, his lovely, kindhearted sister, who was rotting away in a state-of-the-art, expensive, and soul-crushingly cold hospital.
On their own, Caden and Rose might have managed to stay one step ahead of their parents and the other purists. But they couldn’t leave Tabitha. He and Rose had watched his parents harden their hearts to her after she was diagnosed with Friedreich’s ataxia at age six. She had a particularly aggressive form of the degenerative disease and had ended up in a wheelchair by the age of ten. His parents, realizing she would never be a member of the Trinity Masters—and therefore held no value to them—shipped her off to live in a private hospital. And now they used her as a hostage to ensure Caden toed the company line.
Without Tabitha, and the knowledge that if something happened to his parents, Tabitha’s power of attorney went not to her own brother, but to a lawyer, Caden would have killed all three of his parents.
He would have killed them and felt not an ounce of regret.
But for Tabitha, he would jump when they told him. And someday soon he would have the power to take Tabitha away, to hold his parents’ secrets over their heads so they dare not pursue. And hopefully, out from under their control, he could become the kind of man Rose deserved. He could help her forget that Caden’s father had raped her, beaten her, and then broken her mind and spirit, all while Caden’s mother and other father looked on.
He could learn to be with her, to love her, without having to dominate her. They could just be Caden and Rose. Not Master Anderson and Darling.
He took a few minutes, making sure he was calm, before he called Rose.
“My Darling Rose,” he said when she answered.
“Caden.” He knew from the halting way she said it that she was forcing herself not to say “Sir” or “Master.” They were both trying, trying so hard.
Careful to keep his tone light, and to not phrase anything like an order, he told her what had happened this afternoon.
“A bit of B&E? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m tired, Darling. I want to be done. I want you and Tabby safe.”
“Okay, I’ll check flights. I can be there by morning. Early afternoon at the latest.”
“No. I’m doing this tonight.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her tone was soft and obedient. The voice of a submissive.
Caden squeezed his eyes shut. “Darling, I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “Don’t order me to stay away.”
“Never. I never meant that.”
“I’m looking now. There’s still one fight out from LAX tonight. The direct redeye. I have time to make it.”
“You still won’t be here until morning. I’m not going to wait.”
She made a small sound of distress, as if she had forced herself to swallow back a retort.
“Damn it. I’m sorry, Darling. It won’t always be like this. Someday.”
“Someday,” she agreed. “But, Master—”
“Caden.”
“Caden, it’s too dangerous to do this alone. I’ll be there in the morning. I’ll be your lookout.”
He wanted to agree with her, give in to her. Compromise. A word that was utterly foreign to him.
“I followed them from the library. They’re in the hotel. They must be a very new trinity. Her apartment is empty tonight, but there’s no guarantee they won’t have relocated there by the time you get here. I’m going tonight.”
Rose didn’t reply, but he heard a zipper, something clicking against a counter. It sounded like she was packing.
“I love you,” he said.
Her only answer was a little noise of distress. Caden hated himself. Who would want to hear “I love you” from a man who best knew how to express his feelings with a whip in hand?
“I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,” he said carefully. He’d wanted to say, “See you later,” but that was an order.
He heard a door close. “I’m getting in a car now. I’ll be at the airport in an hour.”
“I’m going tonight.” Caden ended the call and headed for the shower. He planned to be done with this damned book before her plane even took off. And maybe, just maybe, the poems would be their key to freedom.
She’d raced through security, annoyed with herself for wearing heeled boots instead of flats. By the time she reached the gate, first class had already boarded, so she shouldered her way to the front, darting down the gangway to take her seat.
She dropped into her seat, her overnight bag and coat falling into the aisle as she called Caden.
“Darling,” he purred in greeting.
Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath, desperately relieved to hear him. His voice did things to her. She wasn’t sure if those things were good or bad. He’d faced far more dangerous things than a little breaking and entering, but she was worried about him. He was so tired, so emotionally depleted. He was the only soldier on the front lines of this battle, a lone man up against the collected might of the Trinity Masters, or at least those who were loyal to the Grand Master.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Just outside Ms. Mead’s building.”
“Don’t.” Rose winced, her whole body clenching in anticipation of a blow. It was wholly inappropriate for her to command her master to do anything. If he’d been with her, he would have turned her over the nearest flat surface and whipped her ass for speaking to him in such a way.
“Ma’am, are these yours? I need you to place them in the overhead bin.”
Rose waved her hand at the flight attendant. She was sure she was coming off as a bitch, but she didn’t care. With a huff, he put her bag away and hung up her coat.
“I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered.
“Don’t apologize.” His tone was stiff, as if he were forcing himself not to respond by promising her a sound beating. He was trying. “Rose, I need to do this right now.”
“What if she comes over to her apartment to sleep? Or what if she needs something?”
“They’re a new trinity. They’ll want to be together, locked up in their penthouse, having a good time.”
Rose was less sure about that. Nothing in her life had ever made her feel like a trinity marriage was truly a good thing. All it did was strip away boundaries, complicate relationships, and turn people into someone they were not.
Her own trinity had been dissolved not long ago. Rose’s mother used to use her academic training to discuss and analyze Rose’s betrothal. As a world-famous anthropologist, it was the only way Tallulah has been able to talk about it. Rose wondered why her mother had ever agreed to it in the first place. Probably because the Hancocks, Rose’s father and other mother, though she’d never call them that, had outvoted Tallulah.
When Juliette, the woman Rose had always assumed she’d call “wife,” became the Grand Master, the first thing she’d done was dissolve the betrothal. Juliette had never accepted the betrothal in the first place. Probably because obedience hadn’t been beaten into her the way it was beaten and branded into Rose. For the first time, Rose hadn’t known what the future would hold, and that was a terrifying relief.
When Juliette had gone on to marry Devon, the third member of their trinity, Rose had felt a pang of some emotion she couldn’t quite name—fear, jealousy, sadness. So much of Rose’s own life had been shaped by Juliette and Devon, and by what the Andersons thought they’d want from Rose.
But she had Caden. Caden, who loved her, protected her, used her, mastered her.
They were in this together. Together they would find a way out.
“And one of the men is a Dom, I recognize him. You might too. Master Clayton. Charlotte and Christian are undoubtedly getting introduced to the basics of BDSM.”
Rose bit the tip of her tongue to stop herself from flashing back to her own introduction to BDSM. If she let herself think about those first few years, about Elroy’s training, or Weston, she’d lose it.
“Good evening.” Caden was speaking to someone else. A doorman?
With two simple words, Caden conveyed an arrogance and poise that was unrivaled. He commanded respect and obedience with just that voice.
Rose closed her eyes. Caden wanted to get away from the master and submissive dynamic that was the foundation of their relationship. Rose didn’t dare hope. Every order he gave, she followed. Every time she saw him in person, her legs trembled with the need to kneel.
She might never be anything other than “Darling.”
She heard a ding.
“I’m in the elevator,” Caden said.
No. Please wait. Wait for me.
Rose glared at the cockpit door, willing the plane to take off. She needed to be in Boston. Now.
“It’s going straight to voice mail.” Devon stared at his phone. He’d called Rose eight times in the past hour. He’d spent the evening coming to grips with what he’d heard and had delayed calling her until now.
