Endless - Manhattan Knights Series Book Three

by Sienna Parks

  “Vittoria de Rossi, I love you. Understand this. Own it. Know that you deserve it.” She tries to look away, but I won’t let her. “No. You need to hear this. You need to stop hating yourself, punishing yourself, for something that you had no control over. You are exceptional. You are breathtaking both inside and out. You are and forever will be… my Nyx. My goddess. My everything. Let me in, baby, please. I’m begging you.”

  She throws her arms around my neck, kissing me with everything she has, and I let her; giving her the connection she so desperately needs right now. That we both do.

  When she finally breaks away, I know that we need to finish this discussion, because if we don’t, one of two things will happen. Either, she will close herself off from me again, and it will tear us apart, or, we’ll discuss it later, and I’ll need to put her through this torment and despair all over again. I don’t know if either of us can cope with that.

  “Does Carter know?”

  She lets out a sigh. “He was the one that found me.” My heart breaks for them both. For the girl that idolized her big brother, and for him, my friend, having to deal with finding her, at the age of fourteen. I can’t even begin to imagine how he was able to cope with that. “He made sure I was safe, before going to find Marcus. He attacked him in the middle of the party and that’s when my parents found out. Marcus’s still in prison to this day. My dad found out that he had done this to other girls and he made sure that he’ll never see the outside of a cell.”

  “Good, because if he was out, I would fucking hunt him down and gut him like a pig.”

  “Carter feels the same way. Don’t you see? I’m the reason Carter is the way he is. He always blamed himself for not being able to protect me. That stayed with him. It’s why he never let any woman get close, it’s why he’s had such a hard time trying to make it work with Addi. It all comes back to him feeling like he can’t protect the women he loves. It’s my fault. It ruined his life. I hate seeing how it changed him.”

  Her tears begin to fall again, but this time they are for her brother. As always, she is thinking not of herself, but of everyone else around her.

  “You can’t shoulder that burden, Vittoria. It is all on Marcus. Carter loves you more than his own life, and that’s his choice to make. It’s understandable, you’re very loveable.” That gets a hint of a smile from her. God, I miss her smile. “You can’t feel guilty about him. He’s doing just fine. Yes, he was a man-whore, but most guys our age are. Look at him now. He’s making it work with Addi. He loves her something fierce. He’s happy.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I can’t believe she’s asking me this.

  “Because I love you… more than anything or anyone in my life. You need to accept that and know that it’s a truth that will never change.”

  “I’ll try.” She looks so exhausted.

  I know we need to talk about what happened at the club tonight, about what she did, but now isn’t the time. She has trusted me with this huge secret, and if I push her as to why she felt she had to go to someone else, I’m concerned that it will push her over the edge. She needs to rest, and I need time to think; to process all of this and decide how we move forward from here.

  “You need to sleep. We’ll talk about Liam tomorrow.”

  It suddenly hits her.

  “Oh my God. OH MY GOD! Logan… Master Fitzgerald, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, please. I couldn’t live with myself if you don’t forgive me. I can’t believe I did that to you, after everything that you’ve done for me. OH MY GOD! I wasn’t thinking straight. You have to believe me. FUCK! Please.”

  I clutch her against me, forcing her to calm down.

  “Slow down. Breathe. Stop. I told you, we will discuss this tomorrow. For now, I want you to rest. Do you understand me, Nyx?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  I press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Do you remember the promise I made to you?” She doesn’t respond. “I promised you that I would never give up on you, that I could never give up on you. That hasn’t changed. We have a long road ahead of us, but I’m here, and if you still want to be my submissive, then I will make this work.”

  I hate that I’m nervous of her answer. I hate that she has such a hold over me. I was so consumed with hate and anger tonight, and I know that she has her reasons, and she has been through more than anyone ever should, but I would never let any other submissive shame me like that, and allow her to remain in my life. I worry that my love for her is making me weak, and if I’m weak, then how can I be the Master she needs to help her through this?

  “I want to be with you, Master. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I will be better, I’ll do better.”

  I feel so many conflicting emotions, and I don’t like it.

  “You need to rest. Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I lift her onto the bed, pull the covers over her, and turn to leave, but she grasps my hand.

  “Please don’t leave me, Master. Stay with me.” I nod my head in defeat. She needs me, and her need to have me close, comes before my own need for distance.

  I lie down beside her and pull her back against my chest.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Master Fitzgerald.”

  It’s not long before she falls asleep, her breathing becoming slow and even. It’s then, in the darkness, that I become consumed by my own fear, and anger, and guilt. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

  If I fail her again, it could be fatal… for both of us.

  I can’t even look at her.

  How am I supposed to be there for her, to help her through this, if I can’t look into her eyes without seeing the betrayal that is burned into my retinas, and seared into the walls of my heart?

  Last night was one of the worst of my life. I can’t say it was the worst, because that will forever be the day that I got the call from Kelen Hospital; the day I found out that the love of my life tried to kill herself. That day has stayed with me, tormenting me, making it impossible for me to find my way back to her.

  I want… I need to get us through this, because if I don’t… well, the alternative is unspeakable.

  I thought that we were slowly moving in the right direction. I knew that we still had a long way to go, and that I couldn’t hurt her in the way she wanted, but I thought that removing physical punishment altogether for a while, would give her time to understand where I was coming from. Now, I realize how wrong I’ve been. I still believe that hurting her to assuage her inner pain would have been unhealthy, but I think that removing it completely, along with her pleasure, has only made her worse. Our physical chemistry has always been such a big part of how we communicate our feelings for one another, and the loss of that has been a huge roadblock in us finding our way back to each other.

  I’ve tried so many times to get her to talk to me about it, about everything, but she just shuts down. Last night is the first time that she’s really opened up to me, about anything. I should have listened to that feeling I had in the beginning. I convinced myself that whatever it was she was holding back, it couldn’t have been that big a deal, if she didn’t feel the need to tell me. I was only lying to myself, and in the end, it hurt Vittoria more than I can handle. I was selfish, but that’s no surprise; I’ve always been selfish with her, since the first time I kissed her, I’ve been unforgivably selfish.

  Last night has forced me into action, and we need to build on that. She needs to talk to me now. If she doesn’t, there’s no hope left for us. She broke my heart, and my heart has been breaking for her every day since I got on that plane. It’s almost more than I can bear. The only thing worse, would be to lose her altogether. Now that I know what she’s been carrying around all this time, I hope I can be a better man for her, to find a way to move beyond her betrayal, and to help her deal with the loss of her career. She needs to talk to someone about what happened when she was young, to fully come to terms with it. If she had worked through her emoti
ons and her grief, I don’t think we would be in the situation we are now.

  Dance gave her an escape, a way to cope, and that’s been stripped away. She’s lost. We’re lost. But, I want to make it better. I want to keep my promise to her that I will always be here, that I will always love her, and protect her, even from herself.

  I lie awake all night, staring at her, wondering what I’m going to say to her today. I need to reinforce my place as her Master, because what she did with Liam, can never happen again. I couldn’t see that again and forgive her. I don’t know if I can forgive her now. Logically, I understand why she did it, that she wasn’t in a good place, and that she didn’t fully grasp what she was doing at the time. That was evident when I mentioned it. She was shocked and horrified with herself, and I would love to say that I could put it behind me and move on, but I’m not made that way. Nevertheless, how can I punish her? How can I hold it against her after what she told me? It would make me the worst man in the world, to hear what she’s been through, and to punish her for reacting in the only way she felt she could.

  I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place. If I tell her that it’s okay, and that I forgive her, then my role as her Master, is questionable at best. If I focus on what she did, rather than her subsequent revelations, I’m a dick. How do I navigate this? I usually excel when it comes to walking the fine line in life. It’s where I feel most powerful, most like myself, but this is something else entirely.

  I don’t think I slept at all. I felt physically ill most of the night. I replayed the sight of her in his playroom, over and over in my mind, and when I managed to push it from the forefront of my thoughts, I was grief-stricken by what that monster did to her when she was a helpless, trusting girl. I had to jump out of bed at one point to throw up in the bathroom.

  I’m weak, and pathetic, and I hate that I’ve let myself become this person.

  I leave Vittoria to sleep while I take a shower, and try to put the broken pieces of myself back together, letting the water cascade over my body, washing away my doubt and insecurity, steeling myself for the conversation I need to have with her. I stand under the showerhead for at least fifteen minutes, my head pressed against the cold tiles, the water beating down on my back as I slowly regroup, remembering who I am, and why she was drawn to me in the first place.

  I stepped into the shower as Logan - battered and bruised by life. But, when I finally emerge, I feel stronger.

  I control my surroundings.

  I control my life.

  I control my submissive.

  I am Master Fitzgerald.

  It’s mid-afternoon by the time she wakes, and I listen to the sound of her cautious footsteps padding down the hallway and into the living room. She finds me pouring over contracts for work, distracting myself until she was ready to come to me.

  Her demeanor is quiet, resigned; she knows what’s coming. She stands at the end of the couch, her head bowed in a show of respect, her hands held behind her back. She doesn’t attempt to speak, but instead, waits patiently until I’m finished working on the papers in front of me, and I make her wait, not to be cruel, but in gratitude to her willingness to submit to me. I know that opening up to me was hard for her, especially after what happened at the club. She knows that she betrayed my trust as my lover, as my friend, and as my submissive. This is her way of showing she’s sorry. She doesn’t try to force me to talk, she doesn’t expect anything of me, and I acknowledge it with my silence. The way we interact as Dominant and submissive is a form of unspoken communication. It’s part of who we both are. This is her way of fighting for that.

  When I’m done with my work, I clear the table, carefully and methodically filing the papers in my briefcase. I take my coffee cup to the sink and wash it out before setting to work preparing brunch for us in silence. She doesn’t move a muscle, or lift her head to see what I’m doing. She simply keeps her submissive stance until I’m ready.

  When the dining table is set and the food is laid out, I cross the room, closing the distance between us. I drink in her scent as she stands before me, and in our silence, I can hear her breath quicken at my proximity. It’s a welcome response.

  “Give me your hand, Nyx.” She doesn’t lift her head, but reaches out to me, her hands small and warm, her touch a sweet relief from the loneliness of the night. “Come with me.” I lead her to the table and pull out the chair for her. “Sit. Eat.” Her gaze remains lowered, careful not to meet mine until I say otherwise.

  We eat in companionable silence, and I watch as she savors every last bite. She’s always been slender, but recently, since Budapest, she’s painfully thin, and it pleases me to see her devour her meal. Maybe it’s because a weight has been lifted, now that I know what happened, or maybe she’s eating because I told her to. Either way, I’ll take it. I’ve wanted her to do things to make herself happy in recent weeks and months, but she’s not ready for that, and if I can get her to treat her body with respect, even for my sake, then that will have to be enough until I get through to her.

  When she’s finished eating, she crosses her cutlery on the plate before clasping her hands in her lap and waiting. I take a moment to look at her, to really take in every aspect of her features. Her long luscious hair scraped up into a messy bun, her skin, her stunning pouty lips, and her glasses framing beautiful brown eyes. The vibrancy that used to emanate from her is gone. She looks older than her years; tired; defenseless. It hurts to see her like this, and I want to scoop her up into my arms and love her until she can love herself again, but I can’t, because looking at her fragile features, I also see the look in her eyes when I walked into Liam’s playroom. I can see the marks on her wrists from the metal restrains, and the same on her ankles - a reminder of how she gave herself over to another man.

  “Look at me.” She lifts her head, slowly, and I can see that she doesn’t want to meet my gaze. I see the reluctance in the clench of her jaw as our eyes finally find each other. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” I’m trying not to let my voice sound cold, but it comes across that way.

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald. Considering how ashamed I feel, I slept relatively well, thank you.” She shows her inner strength, holding my gaze as she confesses her guilt.

  “You should feel ashamed of yourself, I’m ashamed of you for your behavior last night.” She continues to stare straight into my eyes as tears begin to fall from hers. “What I’m about to say to you doesn’t change anything that I said to you yesterday. I love you, and I will be here for you, for us. Nothing that you told me has changed the way I feel about you. If anything, I love you more for trusting me with what happened.”

  I watch as her tears become a steady stream, dripping down her cheeks and into her lap. She makes no move to wipe them, holding her position with her hands tightly clasped. I want so badly to caress my thumbs across her soft cheeks, and kiss away every one of her tears, but I have to stop myself.

  “Tell me that you understand what I’m saying, Nyx. That whatever I say from here on out, whatever punishment I see fit, you understand that I love you, that I will always love you, that you are mine and only mine, not out of obligation, but because I want you to be.” She remains still. “Say the words. I want to hear you say them.”

  “I understand, Master Fitzgerald.” Her words are broken, thick with tears, and I don’t know if she believes a word I’ve said, but if I say it enough, I’m hoping that it will sink in.

  I stand from the table, leaving the empty plates behind and make my way over to the living room. “Come and assume your position at my feet.”

  She knows exactly what to do, and she does it with practiced elegance. She may not dance anymore, but to me, every move of her body is an ethereal dance, a joy to watch. The way her limbs glide across the floor with a flow and sensuality that she can’t even see; it’s endearing. I sit back in the chair and watch as she stops in front of me, her toes mere inches from my own as she removes her top, folds it, and places it on the
arm of the chair next to me. I usually reserve this position for the playroom, and ask that she wear only her bra and panties, but today, she isn’t wearing a bra underneath the T-shirt she slept in. I watch her intently as she pulls down her shorts, revealing her lack of panties. There is nothing sexual in her movements, she is simply carrying out my request, folding the shorts and placing them carefully with her T-shirt.

  I harden involuntarily at the sight of her. None of this is for my sexual gratification, or hers, but rather as an exercise in complete submission. For me, it will be a test of my willpower. Every inch of her flesh is on display, and I have to force myself to look away. I’m so conflicted by desire and disappointment. Images of her with me, tainted by the memory of her betrayal. She falls to her knees, clasping her hands behind her back and dropping her head. She has assumed her position at my feet. Submissive to her Master. I give her a moment to calm herself; to find her center before I speak.

  “Now that you’re ready, it’s time to discuss what happened last night.” I can see her body visibly react to my words. Her muscles tense and her jawline tightens. She’s worried. “I am so angry, Nyx. I can’t even begin to express the gravity of how I felt walking into Liam’s playroom.” I feel my own body tense at the memory, my fists tightening, remembering the moment that they connected with his face. “Look at me when I tell you this.” Her gaze slowly lifts until our eyes meet. “You disrespected me, in the worst possible way. You broke my trust. I have never had a submissive treat me with such contempt, and it will never happen again. If it was anyone but you, this relationship would be over. I need to know why. Why did you go to him? Why didn’t you come to me?”

  She sits for a moment, before she gains the courage to speak, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the answer. “Master Fitzgerald, I’m not sure if my explanation will make this any better, or if I really know the reason behind what happened. I’ve been feeling so lost in my own life. I hate that I can’t dance anymore; I’m angry and sad, and depressed. I don’t know how to channel what I’m feeling, and ever since my injury, I’ve had so much time to wallow in my own thoughts, it’s all been coming back to me. The nightmares about what happened when I was younger are worse than ever. I don’t know what to do with that. I thought that if I threw myself into our lifestyle, it would help alleviate it in some way.”