He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Why don’t we discuss the matter over dinner?” He puts his hand on my elbow, as if to steer me in the direction he wants me to go.
I wrench away. “If it’s all the same with you,” I reply, “I’m going to pass. Thanks.”
“I wasn’t asking, Avery.” There’s a note of steel in his voice. One I remember only too well. At nineteen, I hadn’t known how to defend myself against his icy reprimands and his manipulative control. But ten years later, I know how to deal with men like Victor Lowell. If I rage and storm, I’ll be playing into his hands. Polite indifference is the way to handle this situation.
He raises an eyebrow. “And before you tell me to go to hell, ask yourself one question. How badly do you want to help your mother?”
The hits. They just keep coming. I stop dead in my tracks. “You know about my mother’s illness? How?”
Damn it, Avery. Give him nothing. No curiosity. No surprise. Your emotions are a tool that will be used against you.
I don’t know why I expected him to answer my question. “The concierge at the hotel told me that there’s an excellent French restaurant not too far from here.” He starts walking toward a waiting car, not bothering to see if I follow. Clenching my hands into fists, I trail after him, and he flashes me a mocking smile over his shoulder. “Time has made you more reasonable, I see.”
I can’t resist. “Time hasn’t made you any less a controlling jerk, I see,” I reply blandly.
His eyes darken. I shiver instinctively, and then remind myself that I’m not nineteen. I’m not married to him anymore. He can’t make my life miserable in a thousand little ways, the way he did ten years ago.
He holds the door open for me, and I slide in. He follows, leaning forward to give the driver instructions. “To Marcel’s.”
At least I’m hungry.
Once Victor chooses a bottle of wine, participates in the ridiculously fussy swirl-inhale-sip ritual, and orders for both of us, I straighten my shoulders. “Once again,” I say quietly. “What do you want, Victor?”
“For the moment, the pleasure of your company.”
This is the same man who gave me the silent treatment for a week because I’d worn the wrong hat to a garden tea party. He might want many things from me, but my company isn’t it.
“And once this moment is passed?”
He tilts his head to a side. “Is the wine not to your satisfaction?” he asks obliquely.
“It’s fine.”
“Really? You’ve barely touched it.”
I ignore the implicit rebuke. Count to ten, Avery. Don’t let him push your buttons. “Are we going to talk about wine all night?” I give him a tight smile. “How very civilized.”
Victor is playing with me like a cat with a mouse, but I’m not a fool. I can see where this is going. I have no doubt that the cops will eventually conclude that the ring is, in fact, mine. But I also know that if my ex-husband chooses to do so, he can drag out the process. To prove ownership of the engagement ring, I’m going to have to hire a lawyer and take him to court. That’s going to take money I don’t have, but even more importantly, it’s going to take time.
And as my father told me on the phone earlier today, time is the one thing that my mother doesn’t have.
Which is the only reason I’m sitting here, playing his game.
The walls are closing around me once again, the way they did ten years ago. Then, it was my father’s debt to the mob. Now, it’s my mother’s cancer. And both times, Victor’s conveniently at hand, waiting to take possession of me.
Our food arrives. We eat in silence. The meal is delicious, but I might as well be eating sawdust for all the attention I’m paying to it. My nerves are on edge as I wait for Victor to present his list of demands.
It’s not until dessert that he brings the topic back to the ring. “I could make your life exceedingly difficult,” he muses out loud. “Your engagement ring cost almost half a million pounds. I do believe that we’re looking at jail time.”
“We both know I own the ring. I sent it to you, you returned it. I still have the note that you penned. Remember that? It was a gift. Keep it.”
“You mean the unsigned, undated note?” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Do you think that’ll stand up in court?” He bares his teeth in a smile. “Everyone knows you married me for money, Avery. I’ll get character witnesses that’ll testify about your materialistic nature. The judge will hear about your sex club membership. By the time I’m done, your credibility will be shattered.” He gives me a look of mock concern. “You’re a therapist, right? Your clients expect discreetness from you? Let’s see how they react when they find you in the spotlight.”
He even knows about Club M. How long has he been watching me, waiting for an opening? I grow cold, and my palms are clammy. With great difficulty, I keep my expression neutral. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that I’m afraid. “So that’s the stick,” I say evenly. “What’s the carrot?”
“I would have thought it’s obvious, Avery. You return to England with me, of course.”
I always suspected that Victor Lowell had a coldly ruthless side. He’d shown me hints of it when we were married. But this… He must have reported the diamond missing as soon as I left him. For eight years, ever since I got into my car and drove away, he’s been laying the seeds of his revenge.
Victor wants me contrite. Docile. Submissive. He paid for me ten years ago, and he intends to get his money’s worth.
I take a small sip of my mostly-ignored wine. “Jail sounds like the more pleasant option.”
“We both know your defiance is just for show,” he replies. “Or have you forgotten your mother’s illness? I’m quite fond of Maisie. If we were married, I would obviously pay for my mother-in-law’s treatment.”
Earlier today, Rina talked about the social contract between the generations, about her duty to her parents. Now I have to ask myself. What matters more? My mother’s health, or my own happiness?
Once the dinner-from-hell is over, I get back home, change into my most comfortable, most ragged t-shirt, and pour myself a glass of wine.
I’m wiped out. Completely drained. Ready for this day to be over. Tomorrow morning, maybe I’ll get some kind of clever idea about how to deal with my problems. Right now, I just want to forget them.
I’ve downed the first glass, and I’m pouring myself another when my intercom buzzes. “You have visitors,” the doorman says, his voice tinny and crackly through the speaker. “Dr. Bowen and Mr. Wake.”
Kai and Maddox? A trickle of excitement runs through me, followed by a wave of nervous dread. As if this day hasn’t been hard enough.
I rest my head against the cool wall and contemplate refusing to see them. Only for an instant. “Send them up.”
14
Maddox
“Hello, Avery.”
She stands in her doorway, wearing an old t-shirt that stops at mid-thigh, showing off her impossibly long legs. Her hair is tousled in careless waves around her face. Her face is free of makeup. She looks glorious, and my cock hardens.
As much as I’d like to pretend I don’t want Avery, I can’t lie. She’s a thirst I can’t quench.
Then I look closer and see the signs of distress Xavier mentioned. Her eyes are red-rimmed and wary. Her shoulders are set in tense lines. She leans against her front door as if she doesn’t have the energy to stand up.
Xavier was right to call us.
“What do you want, Maddox?” The words are combative, but her voice is flat and emotionless. “Do you want to hear my apology in person?” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, okay? I would give anything to go back in time and make different choices. What I did was stupid and selfish and greedy, and I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
I have many conflicting emotions about the two weeks we spent with Avery Welch, but regret is not one of them. If I could go back in time, I’d m
ake exactly the same choices. I would willingly have my heart broken all over again.
You heard her. She doesn’t feel the same way. Let the past go.
Of course, I’ve never been able to be sensible about Avery Welch. “Invite us in, Avery.”
She steps away from the door, and we follow her into the small, cheerful living room. It’s painted a turquoise blue. Two couches sit at right angles to each other. One is bright red and covered with black-and-white cushions, and the other is navy blue. She’s hung photographs on the wall, close-ups of flowers, mostly, with an odd painting thrown in. The effect is colorful, eclectic, and lived-in.
“Nice place,” I tell her, moving some of the cushions aside to sit down. “Though it’s not what I would have expected.” I pictured Avery living somewhere more pretentious and sterile.
“I’m selling it,” she replies tightly, perching on the couch across from us. “If you like it so much, it’ll be on the market soon.”
Xavier’s right again, damn it. From the undertone of bitterness in Avery’s voice, this isn’t a choice she wants to make.
Kai sits down next to me, looking around curiously. Despite her outsize impact in our lives, neither of us really know Avery. We don’t know what’s important to her. What makes her tick. All we have is glorious, combustible chemistry.
“Why are you selling?”
“For the usual reason most people sell their possessions, Maddox.” Her voice is caustic. “I need money.”
That’s an answer that reveals nothing. I don’t know why I expected anything different. Avery has never volunteered information. She concealed her engagement from us, after all.
“Is that why you asked Xavier to refund your membership fee?” Kai asks bluntly.
Her cheeks go pink with mingled anger and embarrassment. “He had no business telling you about that.”
There’s a half-full bottle of wine on the coffee table. A chocolate wrapper. An opened bag of chips. I’ve been with enough women to know comfort food when I see it. All that’s missing is a tub of ice-cream.
Avery needs help, and damn it, though it makes no logical sense, I want to be the person that she turns to. “Why do you need money, Avery?” I persist. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“It’s really none of your business.”
She’s right. It is none of my business. If I had any sense of self-preservation, I’d get up and walk out her door. Then again, as events have shown time after time, when it comes to Avery Welch, I am not a rational person.
“The truth, Avery.”
She lifts her chin and glares at me, refusing to tell me anything.
“You’re so stubborn,” Kai murmurs, exasperated. “If you were mine, I’d put you over my lap and spank you for it.”
Fuck. I don’t have to close my eyes to picture Avery bent over Kai’s lap, her t-shirt pulled up to her waist, her fair skin growing pinker with each stroke, her body wriggling with pleasure, her soft moans of arousal like music to my ears. In my fantasies, she begs for my cock. She wraps her pretty lips around my thickness and takes my length deep in her throat.
It’s not just me that’s turned on.
Avery’s pupils dilate, and her breathing quickens, just for an instant. Then she catches herself and stiffens. “I’m not yours,” she snaps, her cheeks red. “As you made abundantly clear on Saturday. And I have no interest in being your mindless drone, obeying every one of your whims.”
We shouldn’t have left her alone. It was a mistake, a bad one. I’d been thinking of myself, trying to protect myself against the hurt that was bound to happen, and I hadn’t been thinking of Avery at all. What I did was the equivalent of sneaking out of her bed in the middle of the night. I rub my hand over my face, deeply ashamed.
“Is that how you see submission?” I ask her quietly. “As something that’s mindless?” She had been visibly turned on; I would have sworn she was enjoying herself. Did I read her wrong?
“Are you going to tell me that hanging naked in the middle of a room is empowering?”
“Oh, you’re talking about Nadya.” Kai shakes his head with a chuckle. “She’s a top-flight estate lawyer who bills five hundred dollars an hour. I’m pretty sure she’s empowered.”
Avery rolls her eyes. “Of course. And you respect her for her mind. Yeah. I believe you.”
Something else is going on. Something’s upset her. This discussion about submission is a diversion. “I do respect Nadya for her mind,” I reply calmly. “She’s my lawyer, and I’m not in the habit of hiring people unless I think very highly of them. Now, forget about her. What’s really bothering you?”
She lowers her gaze to the floor. “It’s nothing,” she mutters tonelessly. “It’s a long, complicated story. Victor’s being his usual charming self. I’ll take care of it.”
“Victor? As in Victor Lowell, your ex-husband?” Why is he back in her life?
She nods slightly, her shoulders slumped.
A spiral of anger coils tight inside me. Avery looks tired and defeated; Victor Lowell made her look like this. I’ve never met the man, but I feel a sudden, burning urge to punch his face. “How much money do you need?”
“Look, it’s not your problem, okay? It’s mine.”
Damn it. She needs to let me help her. “How much, Avery?” I bite out.
“Half a million dollars.”
“And Lowell’s offered to give it to you?”
She doesn’t answer.
Money, a small, bitter voice inside me says. Avery married Lowell for money. Gage sued me for my portion of my father’s estate. It’s always about money.
The thing about money? I have a fuckton of it. “What’s your bank account number?”
Her head snaps up. “What are you saying, Maddox?”
Am I rescuing her or punishing her? Fuck if I know. All I know is that there’s no power on Earth that’s going to stop me. I won’t stand by and watch Lowell take her from us. Again.
I smile coldly. “I’m loaded, sweetheart. Don’t you know? I’m tossing my hat into the ring. Five hundred grand is the asking price, isn’t it?”
She gives me a steady look, one that seems to see into my soul. “I’m not your whore, Maddox.”
No, you were the woman I loved.
The magnitude of my loss ten years ago makes me cruel. “But you’ll be Victor’s?” I throw back at her.
Avery goes white with shock. At my side, Kai stiffens and gives me a furious look. I’ve gone too far. “You don’t know anything about me,” she whispers. “You never did.”
“Here’s what I do know. In my world, I’m honest about my control. The terms are negotiated and agreed to by both parties.” I stare at her. “Can you say the same thing about Victor Lowell?”
She draws in a shuddering breath. “What are the terms?”
“Club M. Every Saturday for the next fourteen weeks. From four in the evening until two in the morning, you are mine.”
“And you’re going to hurt me?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“That’s quite enough.” Kai’s voice cracks like a whip. He gives me a death glare. “It’s at Club M,” he says, turning to Avery. “There are rules. There will be monitors on the floor. Security cameras in every room. If you take Maddox’s deal, nothing will happen that you don’t want. Nothing.”
Her expression remains unreadable. Finally, she nods. “I accept your deal.”
An unexpected surge of relief rushes through me. The strength of my emotions rocks me. Even now. Even after all these years.
But I’ve learned to hide my emotions well. “Good.” I get to my feet. “Give me your bank information. The money will be there in the morning. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
15
Avery
Maddox doesn’t know it, but he’s rescued me.
He thinks I’m angry, but my emotions are much more tangled. I’m relieved and grateful. Yes, there is a thread of fury at the way he’s purchased me, bu
t at the same time, my pulse quickens. My insides clench in arousal at the idea of being Maddox’s plaything at the club. Will Kai be there too? Will he watch?
Will I have to do everything they tell me?
I sit up straight at the surge of heat that runs through me at the thought, and discreetly rub my thighs together, hoping to relieve the ache. My nipples are hard, swollen nubs underneath my thin t-shirt.
Maddox is already on his feet. Kai’s getting up. They’re leaving.
I don’t want them to.
It’s been a long day. I’m a little buzzed. Before they got here, I felt tired, exhausted, ground down by the events of the day. But now, I feel alive with anticipation. Nervous energy is running through my body, a nervous energy that I learned on Saturday that Kai and Maddox know how to channel.
My throat is dry. “Do you want a drink?” I glance at the half-empty bottle of Malbec. “Wine? Something else?”
Kai settles back on the couch. “What are you really asking, Avery?”
I’m not used to being this direct. It’s a little scary to tell them outright that I want them. They’re tugging my feelings and my emotions, my needs and wants, out in the open, and I’m not sure I’m ready for such scrutiny. And yes, considering I’m a therapist, it’s bloody ironic.
It’s also incredibly freeing. In the world they belong to, in the world of dominance and submission, being open about your desires isn’t judged. It’s expected. I remember the way they questioned me at Club M, held my gaze in theirs and asked me what turned me on. I remember the way they listened, and then made my fantasies a reality.
I rub my thighs together surreptitiously. This time, they notice the movement. “Avery,” Kai prompts again, his voice deepening into a slow, sexy growl. “Tell us.”
“I want you.” I swallow hard. “I want to suck your cocks. I want you to fuck me.” Heat infuses my face as I remember Kai’s words back in the club. “I want you to take my ass.” It takes all the courage I have to look up at them. “I want everything.”
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