by Rebel Rose
“What do you like about Tristan?”
Adam flips over some cards. “I don’t worry about your stupid ass when you’re with him. He acts like he’s ready to jump in front of a bullet for you. I’m confident that he is going to protect you.”
“Tristan is definitely a protector. He’s also possessive as fuck.”
Adam chuckles. “I thought chicks liked that alpha-possessive shit.”
“We do, but it’s different with Tristan. Everything about him is very intense.”
I pick up my phone to look at the time and stop to look at my lock screen, a photo of us. It’s a selfie of us lying on our backs in bed and Tristan is cradling the side of my face with his hand. I remember everything about that moment, but mostly I remember how special he made me feel.
I touch the screen, stroking my finger down his face, but it feels nothing like the real thing. And I don’t know when I’ll get to feel the real thing again. Or if.
“Let’s just stop. Your head isn’t in this.”
Adam is right. My head hasn’t been in this since we started practicing a week ago.
“I’m sure I’ll fall right back into the swing of it when I’m at the table. What time do you want me to come to the casino?”
“Between nine and ten. Walk around the blackjack tables for at least thirty minutes. Give the pit boss time to notice you. He’s easily distracted by tits so wear something that will catch his attention and hold it.”
“What does he look like?”
“Thirties. Blond hair. Short beard. Total dickhead. He thinks he’s a ladies’ man.”
“Oh, great.” He’ll probably try to talk. That kind always does.
“Are you sure you want to do this? The next person who catches you might choose to send you to jail rather than ask you to be his girlfriend.”
Oh, dear Adam. Girlfriend doesn’t even begin to cover what Tristan asked me to be.
“Am I sure that I want to do this for you? Fuck no… but for Michaela? Absolutely.”
I love that little girl—my snuggle bug—to pieces. I would do anything for her. And Adam is wise for looking out for her future so early in her life. I want to help any way I can.
“My shift starts in an hour. I need to get ready.”
“All right. I’ll be there between nine and ten.”
I’ll be playing blackjack well into the morning. I’m hungry but if I eat now, my stomach will look bloated in my dress. I won’t feel sexy, and I won’t be as confident.
My dress choices are definitely more limited than they have been the last several months. I walked out of Tristan’s house with only the clothes on my back, my purse, laptop, iPad, and passport. I left everything he bought me behind. Except his collar. I’m still wearing it. I promised him that I would never remove it as long as I belonged to him and for the moment, I’m not sure where that stands.
I step into an electric blue dress, one of Tristan’s favorite colors on me. It reminds me of the one I wore to the high-stakes poker game in Vegas. I think that’s probably why I’m choosing it for tonight. It reminds me of him.
I’m stepping into my heels when I hear the ping on my phone.
Tristan: I know that you need time and space. Giving that to you is killing me, but I needed to tell you tonight that I love you and I miss you. Home isn’t home anymore. I’m so fucking miserable without you, mon bien-aimé. I’m nothing without you by my side.
Shit. That may be the sweetest thing that any man has ever said to me. And so unlike my Dom. Sugary-sweet is foreign for him, but he’s very good at it.
He’s very good at it for me.
I don’t know how to reply to his text. To respond with something sweet in return feels like giving in and accepting what he did to me. I’m not in a place where I want to give in and forgive him for what he’s done.
It was bad. So bad.
I can’t pin down my feelings about what Tristan has done. The submissive inside me clings to his collar and what it means, for better or worse. I am his and his actions don’t change that. I still feel him branded on my heart and soul. What we share is indescribable, and our connection is beyond reason.
But then the strong woman who resides in me steps forward to have her say. Tristan deceived me. Made a life-altering decision for me, something that he promised he’d never do again. And then it took a whole month for him to admit it. I’d be a fool to ever place trust in him again.
What if I’m pregnant? Then I’m connected to him for the rest of my life. If I can’t forgive him then our child never knows what it feels like to have two parents who are married and in love with one another. Neither of us had that, and it’s something that I would want for my child… as long as it was within a healthy relationship. Not one where Tristan manipulates me into getting what he wants.
Avery is my best friend, but she isn’t a submissive. I don’t feel like she is capable of offering the best advice for this situation. I’d really like to talk about it with another submissive.
There’s Cat, but she’s Tristan’s close friend. She would probably be on his side and tell him the things we discuss. Maybe even try to persuade me into going back and forgiving him. I don’t need that.
I’ve grown closer to Elizabeth. And I don’t think that she would side with Tristan because he employs her as my personal shopper. Plus, she’s married to her Dom and they have children. She would probably be my best option at this point because she understands the dynamics of a Dom also being your spouse.
I look at Tristan’s text and decide to let my heart reply for me.
Emma Lia: I love you and I miss you, too. I wish that we didn’t have this wedge between us. Good night.
I have somewhere to be. I need the blackjack table to take my mind off of my problems with Tristan. I can’t fall into texting back and forth with him right now. And I don’t want to. He’s a distraction that I can’t afford right now. Plus, I need to get my bearings on my feelings before we talk about it again. And text messaging isn’t how I want to discuss our problems.
Tristan: Good night, mon bien-aimé.
Damn, it feels good to be at the blackjack table again. I get such a rush. But it’s only a close second when compared to the thrill that Tristan gives me.
Tristan. I thought that getting out to gamble would help me to forget about him for a little while, but no luck. This casino has only managed to have the opposite effect.
I’m counting my stacks of chips when a guy takes the seat next to me. “Hello.”
I turn and smile at him so I don’t appear rude. “Hi.”
He looks like he’s about my age. A clean-cut blond. Good-looking, I guess, if you’re attracted to fair men. Which I’m not. I like my men darker… in appearance and also in the bedroom.
His button-down polo-style shirt and khakis remind me of a frat boy. He’s probably cocky, which I don’t mind from a man when there’s something to back up his self-confidence.
“Looks like you’re having some luck.” He studies the stacks of chips in front of me. “Whoa, those are hundred-dollar chips?”
Guys my age don’t gamble on the same level as I do, and it blows their minds when they see a girl gambling with serious money. They’re often taken aback by it and want to talk about it. And by talk, I actually mean overtalk it. And I sure as hell don’t need this guy’s big mouth to bring my winnings to the attention of the dealer or the pit boss.
I locate Adam and see that he’s three rotations away from being at my table again. I need to stay and play one more rotation with him to reach ten grand.
“How much have you won tonight?” the guy asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. I’d have to think about what I’ve lost as well, and I don’t like to do that.”
“Daaamn… that’s over eight thousand in front of you now.”
Please shut the fuck up, dude. Now.
The pit boss is looking at my chips now. Not my tits. And I’m suddenly panicking.
“It’s been a
decent night. I’d hate to ruin it by losing what I’ve won, so I think I’d better cash out.”
Eight thousand isn’t what Adam was going for tonight, but this dumb fucker is ruining it for me.
I cash out and leave the casino, giving the valet attendant the ticket for my car. Well, Tristan’s car. I had to drive the Bentley home from his house. I’m only driving it tonight because Adam’s Benz is in the shop, and he’s been driving my car.
Adam wanted to trade with me. Begged me. I let him take the Bentley for a spin around the block, but that was it. I would still die if anything happened to that expensive-as-fuck car. I don’t know why anyone, even with Tristan’s kind of money, would buy a car like that.
It’s one in the morning when I pull into my condo’s parking garage. I’m home earlier than I expected, without the full amount, thanks to Mr. Bigmouth dickhead. Why can’t men just leave me alone at the blackjack table? Seriously, young, old, good-looking, ugly as sin—they always see fit to interfere with my game in one way or another.
I could have it all wrong by looking my best. Perhaps I should try looking like shit. Maybe then men wouldn’t give me a second glance.
I step out of the car and lock it, the alarm chirping at me.
“Hand over the keys and your purse.”
I jolt and stumble backward, my heart instantly pounding out of my chest.
“I said hand over the keys and your purse. Now, bitch.”
I’m paralyzed, unable to speak or move, when the man wearing a black ski mask stalks toward me and punches my face. I turn my head and put up my arm to block his next blow, but it’s zero defense compared to the power behind his assault.
I fall to the ground, dazed, and feel him rip Tristan’s collar from my neck. “I’ll take that too, thank you very much.”
“Please, no. Not my collar.”
“Your collar?” His laughter reminds me of a villain in a movie. “What are you? A fucking dog?”
I try to get up, but he kicks me in the abdomen once, twice, three times. “Stay down if you don’t want me to keep kicking the shit out of you.”
I roll onto my side into the fetal position and hold my stomach, lying there until the excruciating pain dulls. When I no longer feel like I’m going to puke up my guts and die, I stand and try to gain my balance using the wall.
My purse, phone and house keys are gone, along with Adam’s eight thousand dollars and Tristan’s quarter-million-dollar car. But what hurts the most is that my collar is gone.
I want my Dom.
I want Tristan.
39
Tristan Broussard
I open my eyes, roll over, and look at my phone when I hear it ringing. Conrad Grant—that’s the name that I see glowing in the dark. And my heart takes off as though it just heard the shot at the onset of a race.
Something has happened to Emma Lia.
I reach for my phone and I send the fucker flying to the floor. “Fuck!”
Sitting up and extending my arm, I reach for the lamp on the nightstand and in my haste, I manage to knock it over as well. “Fuck!”
“What is it, Conrad? What has happened?”
“It’s Emma Lia. She was attacked in the parking garage at her condo.”
I’m a man who has gone through life without worrying about others. Although I’ve always respected my father, I’ve never loved him. At least not the way that I believe other children love their parents. And certainly not the way that I hope my children will love me.
I’ve also never loved a woman prior to Emma Lia. And for that reason, I’ve never known true unadulterated fear. But I know it now when I hear Conrad tell me that my beloved has been attacked.
I’m fucking terrified. “How bad is it?”
“Not sure yet. She’s in the emergency room now being seen by the doctor, but she was awake and asking for you when I was in there.”
“I’m at the Biloxi casino. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
Ray has barely stopped the car when I dash out of the backseat, running toward the hospital entrance.
I find the Grants gathered in the waiting room. “Where is she?”
“They only allow one visitor at a time, and Avery is with her now.” Adam takes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text her to come out so you can go in.”
“Thank you.”
I have so many questions, but all of them can wait. Right now, I need to see my girl. I need to see that she’s okay.
Avery comes through the doors, and I take the visitor pass from her. “Thank God you’re here. She’s having a fit to see you.”
I stop at the door before entering and inhale deeply, preparing myself for what I’m about to see.
Emma Lia is lying on her back, her eyes closed. Her skin is pale, much paler than usual, and her left cheek and eye are reddish-purple and swollen.
I go to her, taking her hand in mine. “Mon bien-aimé.”
Her uninjured eye opens and she sits up, putting her arms up like a toddler wanting to be picked up. “Tris… tan.” He voices breaks midway through my name, and she bursts into tears.
I wrap my arms around her, careful to not squeeze too tightly since I don’t know how badly she’s been injured. “I’m here, mon bien-aimé, and I’ve got you now.”
“Oh God, Tristan. I was so scared.”
I release my hold and pull away, looking her over. “What happened, baby?”
“Adam asked me to come in and do a bunco with him at the blackjack table tonight, which I did, and I had just gotten home. I got out of the car, and a man in the parking garage wearing a black ski mask told me to hand over my purse and the keys to your car. I was so scared that I couldn’t move. I guess he mistook my stillness for refusal and punched me a couple of times. I was lying on the ground, and he saw my collar.” Her sobbing grows louder. “He ripped it off my neck, and when I tried to get up, he kicked me a bunch of times in my stomach.”
I sit on the bed and pull her into my arms, stroking the back of her hair with my hand as she cries into my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Tristan.”
“Why are you sorry, baby?”
“He took my submissive collar and your Bentley.”
“Baby, I can get another collar and Bentley. I can’t get another you.” She pulls away and I use my thumbs to wipe away her tears. “You’re the only thing that I’m worried about. You… and our maybe baby.”
That brings a smile to her swollen face. “Our maybe baby?”
“Well, we don’t know if there is a baby or not.”
“I told the doctor that I could be pregnant, and they did an ultrasound. They didn’t see a baby.”
I don’t know anything about pregnancy, but I do know that if Emma Lia were pregnant, it would be extremely early. “Maybe you aren’t far enough along for them to see it yet? Besides, the physician you’re seeing here is an ER doctor, not an OB-GYN. I want you to see Cat. She can tell us for sure.”
Emma Lia nods. “I would like that.”
I take my phone from my pocket. “Whoever did this is going to be sorry he put his hands on you.”
“What are you doing?”
“Calling in a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” she asks.
“Your grandmother isn’t the only one with connections. And I’d like my connection to find the man who did this before the police get to him.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“The Bentley has a tracker on it in the event that it was ever stolen. I can pull up its exact location right now.” And send my people to fuck him up.
I kiss the top of Emma Lia’s hand. “I’ll be right back, baby.”
I go out into the hallway and phone Franco, the man I call whenever I have shit that needs to be taken care of on the down low.
“Do you want me to hold him so you can take care of him yourself, boss?”
I’d love nothing more than to be the one to make him sorry for what he did to my girl, but I wo
n’t leave Emma Lia’s side right now. Not even to beat the fuck out of the thug who put her here.
“I can’t leave her right now, Fran. I’ll need you to take care of this one on my behalf.”
“Don’t worry. I know how to make the fucker sorry.”
I return to Emma Lia after my call with Franco and sit in the chair beside her bed. I take her hand in mine, kissing the top again. “That fucker is about to get what he has coming to him.”
“You aren’t going to tell me what you just spoke about with your connection, are you?”
“No, mon bien-aimé. I’m not.” I don’t want her to be connected in any way to what happens.
“Can I make a request?” she asks.
“Maybe.”
“Tell your connection to kick the shit out of him.”
“He’s going to do that and so much more.”
The nurse finishes Emma Lia’s discharge instructions. “Do you have any questions?”
“No, ma’am.”
“All right. I’ll be back in a few minutes with a wheelchair to get you out of here.”
I take my phone from my pocket and text Ray to drive around to the discharge area. “You’re coming home—to our house—and I’m going to take care of you.”
“I’m fine, Tristan. Just a little beat up. I can go to my condo.”
“Hell no, you’re not.”
She got out of a Bentley, had a purse full of cash, and was wearing a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace around her neck. This guy could have told his buddies about her and where she lives. They could come back to rob her. There’s not a chance in hell that I’m letting her go to that condo tonight.
“I have a security system.” She thinks a security system is supposed to make me feel better?
“It is my job to protect you and I didn’t. You can’t possibly imagine how I feel right now.”
“This wasn’t your fault, Tristan. I left and told you to stay away from me. It wasn’t possible for you to protect me from this.”
It is my fault. “It wouldn’t have happened if you’d been at home where you belong. And you’d have been at home if I hadn’t fucked up.”
She’s sitting on the side of the bed, and I move to stand between her legs, lowering myself to squat before her. “You can have our bedroom, and I’ll take one of the guest rooms if you like, but please come back home so that I can keep you safe.”
