Into the Light (Untwisted series Book 3)

by Raine, Alice

  Of course none of my colleagues knew why I looked like hell, but I’m sure the office gossips had already made up several juicy possibilities by the time my door had closed shut and I’d snapped the blinds together. I did discover one benefit to arriving at work with a miserable, blotchy, snot-covered face though – no-one dared bother me all day – so at least I had been left alone to stew in peace and chastise myself for falling for Nathan. Why hadn’t I had a better grip on my heart? Falling for Nathan was beyond pointless, the man was so controlled and unfeeling that he practically needed a written contract to sneeze for God’s sake.

  Grabbing two bananas I dug my fingernails through the skin, peeled them almost violently, and then shoved them in the blender, before adding half a pint of milk, a shot of vanilla syrup, and slamming the lid on. I pressed the ‘on’ button just as the front door opened again, signalling the arrival of Kenny home from work, and in a spilt second I was covered in a syrupy, banana mess as the bloody blender lid flew off mid-whizz.

  In front of me there was a fountain of banana milk flying everywhere and spattering onto the ceiling and walls. ‘Fucking hell!’ The words flew from my mouth as I desperately struggled to find the off switch amongst all the milk pouring down the side of the blender like Niagara frigging Falls. I’d always hated this stupid machine. ‘Stupid bloody thing!’ I very rarely swore out loud, but the combination of being dumped and now soaked had obviously brought out the worst in me.

  ‘Here …’ Kenny braved ruining his shirt – his turquoise shirt, might I add – and turned it off for me. Of course he would know where the stupid switch was, he always made his horrible diet drinks using it.

  Casting an unamused glance around the splattered kitchen I shook off my sodden arm, sending a thick, oozy trail of milkshake spraying across the lake of banana milk already residing on the counter. ‘So … what’s up?’ Kenny asked knowingly, standing back and gazing at me intently as he wiped his hand on a tea towel. It would take more than a tea towel to sort me out, I was drenched. Not to mention put off bananas for quite a while; the smell was all over me and suddenly quite revolting. I looked up at him from under furrowed brows, a bit of banana-vanilla milk dribbling down my nose, and sighed heavily. I was dumped, depressed, and drenched, what wasn’t up?

  ‘We’re going out to get drunk,’ I replied, avoiding his question completely.

  ‘We are? But it’s Monday night.’ The confusion in Kenny’s voice was obvious as his brows dipped lower.

  ‘Yeah? So?’ I huffed grouchily. My foul mood probably wasn’t making the prospect of going out with me for a drink the most appealing thing ever, so I sighed again and confessed my woes. ‘Nathan finished our agreement this morning.’ I plucked a piece of banana from my hair and flicked it in the bin, but it missed and slid down the wall instead. ‘I wasn’t ready for it to finish,’ I added softly feeling fresh tears prick at the backs of my eyes. What an understatement. I had fallen for Nathan hook, line, and sinker and now he’d finished it I felt like a chunk of my heart had been chewed up, spat out, and trampled on.

  ‘Fuck,’ Kenny winced supportively, ‘So, what are you waiting for then? Clean that sticky crap out of your hair and let’s go drinking,’ he said, coming forwards and pulling me in for a special Kenny-style squeeze regardless of the state of my clothes. God, I loved Kenny so much sometimes.

  ‘If your plan for the night was to get drunk, then why were you making a milkshake?’ he enquired, leaning back from our embrace and eyeing the blender cautiously.

  ‘Lining my stomach,’ I mumbled, burying my head in his chest again.

  ‘Ah, I see. That kind of defeats the whole drinking thing doesn’t it?’ he teased, giving me a little tickle on my lower ribs – my most ticklish spot.

  ‘Shut up, Kenny,’ I mumbled against his shirt. ‘Take me out and get me drunk.’

  If I’d looked like crap going into work on Monday, then I must have looked like crap warmed up going into work on Tuesday – with a hangover from hell after ‘Mojito Monday’ at Mojo’s cocktail bar. Turns out that Kenny was right, Monday night drinking was not a good idea. Actually, it possibly goes down as the most God-awful decision I’ve ever made. Apart from joining Club Twist and seeking out a dominant sexual partner of course – now that really was the worst decision of my life.

  The remainder of the week dragged by horrendously slowly. I did barely any work and the more I mourned the loss of my ‘relationship’ with Nathan, the more my mood progressively worsened. I’d been such a super bitch at work in the five days since ‘the dumping’, that I think my colleagues were actually scared to approach me by Friday.

  No calls had come from Nathan either, not that I’d really expected them to. After the cold way he’d ended things he’d made his feelings pretty clear. I still shuddered when I thought about my ripped up contract and discarded necklace. Jeez, even with all his fucked-up-ness I’d have thought Nathan would at least have had the guts to finish with me in person. I’d been tempted to call him on several occasions to give him a few lessons in break-up etiquette, but thankfully this was usually after a few drinks and Kenny had always been there to talk some sense into me.

  When all was said and done, Nathan had been my contracted dominant, certainly not my boyfriend, a fact that I bitterly reminded myself of daily. Regardless of his strangely affectionate behaviour last Sunday, feelings and emotions weren’t supposed to be part of our agreement, he’d made that perfectly clear from the start. I had been the one to break the rules and develop an affection for him, so I was the one who needed get a wriggle on and get over him.

  Chapter Twelve – Nathan

  I’d had a full week away with work, staying in a bloody hotel and even with my determined effort the source of the mystery company that was plaguing my bids was still no clearer. I’d left Gregory on the case in Manchester, where the mystery PO Box was listed, and now finally it was Saturday morning and I was on the road. I hated hotels and the lack of privacy that they afforded you – there was always some busy body cleaner knocking on the door every five minutes. I couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight, but topping that, I couldn’t wait to get home and see Stella.

  Whilst I’d been away I’d made the monumental decision to lay my feelings out on the table with her. I might not like talking about emotional stuff – in fact just the thought of it was enough to make me shudder – but some things just needed saying in words and after our amazing weekend together I needed to hear Stella say that she wanted to be with me, that she wanted to try a relationship with me. Christ, talk about a shocker. I literally never thought I’d see the day when I, Nathaniel Jackson, dominant, moody arsehole, was actually hoping with every fibre of my being that a woman wanted more than just sex with me.

  Shaking my head I smiled at my thoughts. Despite the ongoing work issues, I’d been feeling quite light-hearted all week, something I was giving Stella the credit for, after she had made me feel so alive last weekend.

  My final meeting yesterday had run on and on, eventually finishing well past two in the morning, but undeterred I’d driven through the night to get home for the weekend, hoping that Stella had stayed at mine last night as I’d suggested. Smiling, I thought back to last weekend. Being more open around her had been far easier than I’d expected, and seeing her thrilled response to my simple actions like hand holding and eye contact had made me feel far more contented than I’d ever thought possible.

  Me, turning into a sappy nice guy, who’d have thought it eh? Although ‘nice guy’ was a bit of a stretch given the dark thoughts and sexual depravity that often loitered in my head, perhaps ‘deviant developing a conscience’ was more accurate.

  Thinking of nice gestures I made an on the spot decision to stop off on the way home to grab some breakfast for us both as a surprise. Hopefully Stella would still be in bed – nah, scrap that; hopefully she’d be naked and in my bed.

  As I waited for my freshly baked croissants the waitress poured me another glass of orange j
uice and I settled back with a paper from the counter. Immediately I found myself raising an eyebrow as a photograph in the paper caught my eye. Nicholas. More precisely Nicholas and Rebecca at some charity function they’d attended last night. I chuckled to myself and shook my head, my brother hated the semi-famous status he had from his piano career, but to be honest he looked pretty damn happy in the photo as he gazed lovingly down at a resplendent Rebecca. Lovingly. Wow, it really was clear in my brother’s eyes, but also in Rebecca’s too, that they shared a very special bond. Was that something I could have with Stella? Christ, I hoped so.

  Instead of heading straight home to Stella with the croissants, I decided to pay another quick visit to my brother for a bit of last-minute advice from his endlessly supportive girlfriend. Normally I hated asking for assistance from anyone, but if Rebecca had managed to tame Nicholas maybe she could give me some final words of wisdom too that would bolster my courage and help me in my talk with Stella.

  Fifteen minutes later I realised that I really needed to start wearing a watch, because as I stood on Nicholas’s doorstep for the second weekend in a row I checked my phone and noticed once again just how early it was. Damn it. Well, I wasn’t going home without speaking to Rebecca first so I may as well use the key Nicholas had given me to let myself in and get some coffee going.

  I had possibly – OK, intentionally – banged around a bit whilst setting up the coffee maker hoping to wake Nicholas and Rebecca, or perhaps they were just early risers, because not long after the coffee had brewed I was joined by them, both looking sleep-tousled but happy.

  ‘I saw you two in the papers this morning,’ I said as way of greeting, chucking down the copy I’d brought from the café. I watched as Rebecca picked it up and looked at the picture with wide eyes. At a guess I’d say it was her first experience of being in a national newspaper. If she was planning on sticking with Nicholas she’d better get used to it, he was quite a magnet for the journalists now that his piano playing had hit the big time.

  Handing them both a cup of coffee I leaned back on the counter and sipped my own drink whilst they skimmed the article. Nicholas slipped an arm around Rebecca’s waist and read over her shoulder, looking rather pleased with himself – no doubt as a result of catching himself such an incredible woman. Could I do that? Be with one woman and look that happy? I was starting to think that I could if that woman was Stella.

  ‘Rebecca, can I grab you for five minutes again?’ I asked, too impatient to wait for her to finish her entire coffee. I wanted to speak to her and then make tracks home to Stella.

  ‘You can’t ‘grab her’ at all, brother,’ Nicholas warned me with a glare as his possessive grip on Rebecca tightened. I almost smiled as I thought back to my own over reaction when I’d seen Stella out with her brother. At least now I knew exactly how Nicholas felt.

  ‘You know what I mean, Nicholas. Five minutes’ chat,’ I explained patiently with a shake of my head. Rebecca smiled up at Nicholas and then shrugged out of his arm to lead me to the lounge again. She certainly seemed more relaxed around me this week, which was good.

  Taking up my usual position by the fireplace I glanced around and smirked – this was becoming like our regular therapy room. Not bothering with any preamble I got straight to the point. ‘I did what you said. We went out to the park last weekend; walked a while and ate ice-cream. I think Stella enjoyed it. We had sex afterwards, no funny stuff, just normal sex … it was good … really good actually.’ I almost surprised myself by how true my words were. There had been no kink at all, but still it had been some of the best sex of my life.

  ‘Maybe you should discuss this with Nicholas …’ Rebecca mumbled. I would have totally missed her embarrassment if it weren’t for the flush that crept to her cheeks, but I couldn’t speak to Nicholas about this, not yet, not until I definitely knew if Stella wanted to try a relationship with me. No, I needed Rebecca’s advice, she’d just have to get over her embarrassment and help me.

  ‘No Rebecca, you’ve changed Nicholas, I see that, I want to change too, I need your advice.’ I stepped closer, using full eye-contact as I had with Stella last week. I was actually getting quite good at it. ‘I’m fairly sure my father used to be in charge in the bedroom too, my room was next door and I …’ I paused, realising that now it was me who was embarrassed, ‘… I saw and heard certain, uh … things,’ I finished with a narrowed expression as I remembered back to some of the messed up things I’d seen my father doing to my mother.

  Rebecca looked about ready to run from the room so I sidestepped to block her path. There was one question I needed the answer to before she left. ‘Do you and Nicholas do any kinky stuff now, any bondage or punishments at all?’ I demanded hotly.

  ‘I’m really not comfortable discussing this, Nathan. It’s up to you and Stella to set the boundaries,’ she murmured awkwardly.

  A frown knit my brows together and I scowled down at her, not pleased by her answer at all. Didn’t she realise I needed clear, definitive answers? I was just about to demand she tell me, when Rebecca seemed to relent on a sigh. ‘Nicholas and I talked about what we both liked and what I disliked and there is certain stuff we don’t do any more, but it’s a personal thing. You need to sit down with Stella and ask her opinions.’

  OK – ask her opinion. I wasn’t the world’s best talker but surely I could do that if it meant that Stella might stay with me and give me a chance at something more with her? I nodded, running a hand nervously through my hair at the prospect of the conversation I needed to have with Stella. ‘Right, ask her opinion, got it. You mean what rules we stick to? Which toys she likes, things like that?’

  Rebecca blushed, the colour reaching up to her hairline. ‘Er, yeah. You might want to loosen up on the rules bit, Nathan; normal relationships don’t use them quite the way you do. She needs to feel like an individual as well as your partner.’

  ‘OK … reassess the rules and ask her opinion on sexual stuff … I’ll go and do that now,’ I stated firmly, before heading out of the lounge door and practically running into Nicholas who was loitering outside the door with a protective frown on his face.

  ‘Thanks, Rebecca. Bye, Nicholas,’ I called as I practically jogged down the stairs to my car so I could head home to Stella.

  Unfortunately when I got home my excitement about developing my relationship with Stella was brought to an abrupt halt by a slight problem. There was no Stella. In fact, Stella and all traces of her were gone from my apartment – it was as if she had never been there at all. What the fuck?

  Chapter Thirteen – Stella

  It was Saturday morning and I was lounging on the sofa feeling well and truly sorry for myself. Kenny came sailing into the adjoining kitchen humming a dreadfully tuneless song wearing only a pair of black Batman pants and nothing else. Thank God I wasn’t hung-over because the sight of Kenny in Y-fronts would quite possibly have prompted a very speedy vomiting session. To be fair to Kenny, he had quite a nice body; it was the Y-fronts that were vomit inducing – I’d always hated them on a man, but then realistically you’d have to be hung like a horse to ever make them look vaguely passable.

  As it was I just grimaced, and tutted – if I couldn’t see Nathan’s near-naked body I didn’t want to see anyone else’s either. ‘For God’s sake, Kenny, cover yourself up!’ I mumbled grumpily, digging myself deeper into the cushions on the sofa so I was well and truly cocooned in preparation for my day of moping.

  Letting out a piercing shriek Kenny jumped a mile into the air, spraying coffee beans everywhere and then turned to me, clutching his chest dramatically. Oh my God, the pants got worse – on the front, right over his groin, was written The Dark Knight Rises. How very Kenny.

  ‘Christ, Stella, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What the hell are you doing here on a weekend, you’re normally with …’ Dumping the coffee on the counter with a loud clatter Kenny smacked himself on the forehead and winced apologetically, ‘I’m such an insensitive knob … sor
ry, I totally forgot you split up.’

  Sighing heavily I felt like informing Kenny that Nathan and I hadn’t split up, he’d simply torn up my contract, removed my collar, and buggered off. All information I’d kept to myself at my drinking session with Kenny last Monday night; I bit my lip and kept the mortifying details quiet. And how Kenny had forgotten we’d split up I had no idea, I’d been like a bear with an exceptionally sore head all week. Climbing from the sofa I found the dust pan and brush, knelt by the sink and started brushing up the spilt beans as a distraction to my depressing thoughts.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I huffed. It wasn’t fine, but what else could I say? I fell for a guy who told me our relationship would only ever be about sex and now he’s gone I miss him so much that I want to crawl into a pit and die? Perhaps that was a little dramatic. Maybe living with Kenny the drama queen was starting to rub off on me.

  ‘So what are your plans this weekend then?’ Kenny asked brightly, ‘I bet now you’ve finally got a Saturday free you’ve got loads of stuff to catch up on.’ Bless him, Kenny was obviously trying to make me feel better, but it wasn’t working. I had nothing to do. No a thing. Had my weekends been this dull and empty before I met Nathan?

  Our slightly awkward exchange was suddenly interrupted by the chiming of our doorbell, informing us that someone was at the main entrance to the flats. I continued with my brushing as Kenny skipped over to see who it was before staggering back in shock, making a high pitched noise in his throat which sounded rather like a car alarm. ‘Oh my God, Stella, it’s him!’ Kenny whispered, flicking frantic stares between the camera and my prone form on the floor. There was no need to ask who the ‘him’ was he was referring to – the horrified look on Kenny’s face made it perfectly clear who it was. Nathan.

  ‘What should I do?’ he whispered again, although why he was whispering was a mystery to me, there was no way Nathan would have been able to hear him; the camera didn’t contain a microphone and we were three floors up. Nathan would have to have ears like a bat to hear Kenny’s voice from down there. But they weren’t bat like at all – from memory Nathan’s ears were pretty perfect, just like the bloody rest of him.