by Lilly Black
“Oh, Evan! Oh, God, Evan!” he cries, and when his body falls to the table, spent, I’m disgracefully pleased with myself, knowing I’ve exceed his expectations and my own.
“What was that?” Cain asks as I unclip his cuffs. When I show him the sleeve laying at the end of the table, he looks surprised and a little uncomfortable, and it makes me feel powerful to be the one who is not squeamish for a change.
“Where did you get that?” he asks.
“It was in the Toy Box.”
“Lucy.” He shakes his head.
“I thought you picked out everything in here,” I complain, drawing my lips into a pout.
“So did I,” Cain says, laughing. “So did I.”
September 24, 9:30 am
Showered and dressed, I had planned to get my laptop out of Cain’s office to look for design ideas while I wait for Paige to arrive, but with visions of last night corrupting my thoughts, I realize that there is no way I can sit face-to-face and plan a home dungeon with this interior designer. Though I had wanted it to be a surprise for Cain, I see now that it won’t be possible. I call him.
“It wouldn’t have been a surprise anyway,” he assures me. “Why do you think I have so much extra space?”
“Good because I was a little afraid that you wouldn’t like the idea, like there was some reason you didn’t have the dungeon in your home…”
“It’s not my home anymore. It’s ours, and any reasons I had for keeping the dungeon elsewhere are no longer valid.”
“Okay,” I say bashfully.
“I want you to have exactly what you want, Evan, so don’t be shy about discussing it with Paige. She has signed an NDA with your name included, and trust me when I say she’s perfect for the job.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“She’s into the lifestyle,” he says, very quietly.
“Oh,” I say, the wind knocked out of my sails as I assume he’s been with her.
“It’s not like that. She’s not my type.”
“What is she? A brunette?” I tease.
“A Dominatrix.”
“Not your type, huh? After last night, I’d beg to differ.”
“Get ready, Evan. She’ll be there soon,” he says with a laugh. I hang up, wondering how the hell he found an interior designing Dominatrix.
With a little time left to kill, I go to Cain’s office for my computer, planning to look for design ideas on the internet, but in the place where my old laptop was supposed to be, I find a brand new laptop/tablet combo with all of my files and apps on it to the extent that the new desktop looks exactly like the my old one.
Cain, I think, shaking my head, and though he has once more made a decision for me without consulting me, when I remove the tablet and sit comfortably in the living room to use the internet, I decide to just appreciate the gesture.
At 10:00, the doorman calls and sends Paige up. All business, she gets started right away, rolling out the architectural floor plans on the dining room table, and laying out some preliminary sketches. She has left plenty of space for two dungeons without encroaching upon the areas she has devoted to a personal spa with a massage room, hot tub, cold plunge, and endless current pool.
On Cain’s orders, she is moving Lucy upstairs to a larger apartment, and her apartment will become a small library and a home theater, taking up all of the space on the 35th floor that isn’t allotted to the dungeons. Since there is no longer a need for a hall between the three apartments anymore, Paige suggests a sweeping staircase across from the elevators leading to French doors that open into a large formal living room in the apartment above ours with a guest suite in its master bedroom, and her structural designs are so impressive, there’s only one thing I want to change. Since Cain likes to cook, I ask her to devote some of our living room space to upgrade the kitchen for him.
She makes a note that says “chef’s kitchen,” and rolls out the floor plans for the new acquisition upstairs. She has no plan for this area at all, and it really would be a perfect space for the bar/guitar studio Nicole and I talked about, with space left over for a pool table and a wine room. I tell Paige my ideas, but…
“The thing is,” I explain. “I’m not sure how Cain will feel about it because he hasn’t even mentioned to me that he plays the guitar, so…”
“Trust me. He’ll love it,” Paige says with a strange gleam in her eye, and I realize that his interior designer knows things about him that I don’t. In fact, Cain and I really barely know each other at all, yet he has seamlessly slipped me into the role of mistress of his house. I know I should feel the urge to slam on the breaks, that I shouldn’t let myself fall so hard for a guy who moves so fast, particularly one who was such a bastard to the women in his past, but I believe him when he says he loves me. I believe it because everything with him feels so natural and right…well, everything except spending his money.
“I don’t know,” I say to Paige. “A recording studio is going to be really expensive. Maybe I should ask Cain before I do something like that.”
“Miss Lucien, it’s what he wants you to do. He wants this home to have everything your heart desires if he has to buy the entire building to house it, and don’t spend a second worrying about the expense. Cain Ballantyne can afford it.”
“But…” I begin to protest.
“‘Everything her heart desires,’” Paige repeats. “Mr. Ballantyne’s words.”
Afternoon of September 24
“Hey,” I say excitedly as I meet Cain at the door. It’s 4:30, and this is the first time he has come home to me since we began officially cohabitating.
“Hey,” he echoes, kissing me.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Good,” Cain says, both of us smiling, on the verge of laughing at ourselves.
“Well, tell me about work, dear,” I say. “Should I get your slippers and mix you a martini?”
“I’d much rather have gin and talk about your day.”
“Get comfortable. I’ll make your drink.”
“Come here,” Cain says before I can turn away. He puts his arms around me. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I repeat, a rush of blood warming my face. I still can’t believe I’m exchanging these words with him. It’s surreal.
As Cain drops his briefcase off in the office and goes to change, I go to the bar cabinet in the dining room, feeling almost silly because my only examples of couples in healthy relationships are from old TV shows. All my mother gave me was a total misunderstanding of love, but although I could see myself easily falling into patterns set by her examples, I have always raged against being anything like her. If that means I come off like Samantha from Bewitched when Cain gets off work, so be it.
I make our drinks and find him in the master bedroom wearing dark jeans and an untucked, partially buttoned, burgundy, silk shirt, his suit tossed on the bed. He leads me to the balcony to look out over city as the sun sets on the other side of the building, and as we sit in the tightly-woven wicker arm chairs, he invites me to come with him to Las Vegas next week when he goes there to work with a new client. Of course, I say yes. I love Vegas!
“So what did you and Paige decide today?” he asks.
“That we’re going to have way more space than any two people could ever need. Do we really need 13,000 square feet?”
“Yes,” Cain says without even having to think about it.
“Well then we may as well buy the apartments on the 34th floor for consistency’s sake.”
“Perfect.” Cain pulls out his phone and dials a number.
“I’m kidding!”
“Paige? Evan wants the entire 34th floor….”
“Give me that!” I get up and swipe the phone to prove he wasn’t actually making the call. I swat him.
“I would, you know.”
“I know,” I say, handing his phone back. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his lap, but before I even get comfortable, the doorbell rings, followed by loud knocki
ng. Grudgingly, we come inside and answer the door. It’s Calderón and Vega.
“Mr. Ballantyne. Miss Lucien,” Calderón says.
“Detective,” Cain addresses him, his tone fraught with irritation. Then he gives Vega his best playboy smirk. I really wish he wouldn’t antagonize her, but he can’t seem to help himself.
“Have you heard from Lorraine Meriwether?” I ask as we go into the living room to sit.
“Still trying to locate her, ma’am,” he says.
“So why are you here?” Cain asks impatiently.
“We’re here for DNA samples.”
“Excuse me?” Cain hisses.
“Just a formality.”
“And you couldn’t have asked us to come to the station for this? You really need to keep coming to my apartment?” Cain demands. “Keeping our names out of the paper is already costing me a small fortune. I would appreciate it if, in the future, you handled these matters more discretely.”
“As you wish, Mr. Ballantyne, but since we’re already here…” The detective pulls the sample collection kit out of his coat pocket.
“I don’t recall agreeing to give you a sample,” Cain snaps, his annoyance blatant.
“If you’ve done nothing, you have nothing to hide, Mr. Ballantyne,” Vega chimes in, glaring at him.
“Just get it over with,” I urge as I hear the front door open and Caleb enters.
“Fine,” Cain acquiesces, and Calderón opens the packages of cotton swabs.
“I was at the club on Saturday,” Caleb says, approaching us. “Do you want to test me as well?”
“Who are you?” Vega asks.
“Caleb Ballantyne. That’s my little brother you’re swabbing.”
“There’s no reason to take your sample at this time, Mr. Ballantyne,” Calderón says to Caleb.
“There’s no reason you should need my brother’s sample either.”
“You may be right,” Calderón says, then his demeanor grows severe, “but in the case that you’re wrong, would you want to risk having any woman you cared about around someone who could do this?” From his interior coat pocket, he whips an 8 x 10, color photograph of Elizabeth’s murder scene. She’s hanging out of her car with the passenger side door open and blood all over her dress, causing us all to flinch and look away.
“What’s the matter, Ballantyne? Can’t stand to see the handiwork?” He’s talking to Cain, and although he doesn’t say your handiwork, it’s pretty obvious he thinks Cain did this.
“I can’t stand to look, Detective, because I had an intimate relationship with that woman. We’ve been over this.”
“So you still love her?” Vega asks, trying clumsily to lead him down a path I know he won’t follow.
“No, Detective Vega. I never loved her. I’ve never loved any woman before Evan, and as you already know, Evan wore that same dress that night. It’s hard for me to look at it covered in blood.”
“I tried that dress on, too,” I add. “The one Elizabeth bought. It’s a size six, which I usually am, but the way it’s cut, I had to take it in a four. There were only three dresses in the shop in three different sizes, so the dress Elizabeth was wearing had to be the one I tried on.”
“Then I will need your sample as well, Miss Lucien, but so far, we haven’t found any DNA other than Miss Chadwick’s. What we’re trying to determine right now is the father of Miss Chadwick’s fetus.”
Oh, God, no!
“Well, I can promise you it isn’t mine,” Cain says.
“When was the last time you were with Miss Chadwick?” Vega demands.
“Now wait a minute!” Caleb protests, but Cain calls him off.
“It’s been…” He pauses as if he’s thinking about it. “I don’t know. It was the night I met Evan, but it seems like I’ve known her forever now. Ev? Do you know the date?”
“Late August,” I say. Cain knows. It’s his phone’s password.
“How far along was she?” Caleb asks.
“First trimester,” Calderón says. “That’s all I know for now.” That is a game changer, and I can see the distress in Cain’s eyes.
“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Ballantyne,” Vega says as she reaches for the door handle to leave, the smirk on the other face now. I really don’t like her.
“One more thing,” Cain says, stopping her. “You may find Evan’s DNA inside that dress, but on the hem of the skirt, there’s a small spot in the back. There, you will likely find DNA from both of us.” Now I could hear a pin drop as everyone’s eyes are trained on Cain, but he handles it with his usual grace, swallowing the fear that Elizabeth may have been pregnant with his child as he explains the presence of our DNA very matter-of-factly as if no one in our company hasn’t done exactly what we did in that dressing room.
“And when I opened the door for Miss Pierce,” Cain says, wrapping it up. “The panties slipped out of my pocket and stained the hem of the dress.”
“Well, actually,” I say, and I cannot believe I’m doing this. “I saw that they were hanging out, so I tried to grab them before Miss Pierce could see them, but instead, they fell and stained the dress. It’s a very small stain, though.” Everyone is silent, and Vega’s eyes quickly dart back and forth between Cain and me as she tries to determine if this is just a lie we’ve concocted together. It’s the truth, but I don’t think the detectives believe us. Then we hear Lucy speak up. I didn’t even know she was in the apartment.
“When I take Mr. Ballantyne’s clothes to the cleaner,” Lucy says. “I always check the pockets. I took both his and Miss Lucien’s clothes on the following Monday, and there was a pair of Evan’s panties in his pocket.”
“And we’re they…used in a manner consistent with Mr. Ballantyne’s story?” Calderón asks, giving me an overwhelming urge to burst out in nervous laughter. It only gets worse.
“They were…quite stiff,” Lucy says, and everyone, even the angry, stoic Vega, laughs.
“So what did you do with them?” Vega asks after a few seconds. “Were they washed?”
“I tossed them out and replaced them with a duplicate pair,” Lucy says. Wow! I had no idea she did so much for Cain, and for me now. “It was just Monday afternoon. You could probably find them by following the garbage chute to the bin in the basement, but I wouldn’t wait too long. I think tomorrow is trash day.”
“We’ll look into it,” Calderón says to Lucy. “Can you get me the new pair so we know what we’re looking for?”
“I’ll do it,” Cain says. He disappears into my closet and comes back a couple of minutes later with the panties. I love that he pays so much attention to me that he knows exactly which pair of black, lacy panties I had on that day.
When the detectives finally leave, what was left of the glow of our first evening living together has been entirely spent. The silver lining is that the people who spoiled it are probably in the basement sorting through our garbage to find a pair of panties used as a cum rag, but their visit is taking its toll on Cain.
Caleb had come to return the car he borrowed, and after he and Lucy leave so she can drive him home, I find Cain on the bed, staring into space. I lie down with him, and he wraps himself around me.
“God, Ev, what if it was my baby?” he asks, holding me with his head on my breast.
“It can’t be. If she was pregnant, would she have just let you break up with her without trying to use it to stop you? You didn’t see how she was acting in the ladies’ room at the country club. She would have shoved it down my throat if she was pregnant with your baby.” Those words sicken me. I can accept that he had other lovers before me, but thinking of him making a baby with one of them is just too much. It cannot be his!
“I don’t know. What if she was waiting until it was too late to have an abortion? Fuck! We’re talking about a crazy bitch who poked holes in condoms! What am I going to do?”
“Put it out of your mind because there’s nothing you can do. Besides, detectives tell lies all the t
ime trying to get confessions out of people. If he thinks you killed Elizabeth, he may just be making this whole thing up to see how you react.”
“I hope so.”
“Me, too.”
Me. Too.
September 25
Late Wednesday morning, Cain calls me from the office with good news. Miss Pierce at Entrance confirmed to the police that I tried on Elizabeth’s dress, and she said she was almost certain Cain and I were having sex in the dressing room. Unfortunately, though Pierce was spying on Cain and I, neither she nor anyone else at the shop seems to know who bought the size 6. It was paid for with cash, and the girl who sold it says she didn’t recognize the buyer, though it definitely wasn’t Elizabeth. It makes me wonder if the person who bought it was also the killer. What if Cain’s fear that it has something to do with me is justified? What if killing Elizabeth in that dress was a message to me? I don’t dare mention those thoughts to Cain. He has enough on his mind, and I’m probably just being paranoid anyway.
I put it out of my mind, distracting myself by spending much of my day online planning out my dungeon, and by the time Cain comes home, I am completely ravenous for him. It’s almost 5:00 when he walks through the door, but not knowing exactly when to expect him, I have been freshly showered and dressed in a baby doll nightie since before 4:00.
“You! Bedroom! Now!” I shout from down the hall as I hear Cain’s briefcase hit the floor in the kitchen. Fuck being Samantha Stevens!
“What are those for?” I ask when Cain appears in the doorway with a bouquet of white roses.
