Love So Dark: Billionaire Romance Duet

by Stasia Black

He’s the part of me that’s always hungry and restless and mad at the world. I’ve never gone to a shrink but I know enough to guess that he comes from my screwed up childhood. Mom died having me and my biological father was a loser in and out of jail so often all I ever knew was foster homes. But dear old dad refused to give up his rights to me when I was still young enough to be adopted and by the time he decided he was done with me, I was six, too old and too wild for anyone to want to adopt. The beast was already born by then.

  Nobody wanted me? Fine. I didn’t want them either. I’d never want anyone.

  And I’d take all the things the world had refused to give me.

  I was right on track to end up just like my father, in jail by the time I was twenty. I’d already come close to going to juvie twice and I was barely eleven.

  Until the Kents.

  Until Saul Kent, the only man I’ll ever call Dad.

  Callie’s relaxed into the seat beside me, head back and eyes drooping closed. The mere fact that she can do that with me, that she feels safe enough with me, Jesus, it soothes those raw nerves that have been frayed ever since this morning.

  And it means I can watch her in peace. Which probably makes me even more of a stalker, watching her while she sleeps. But it’s too rare an opportunity for me to pass up. My security guards don’t take pictures of her. It’s not surveillance, only security, and going all these months without even a glimpse of her… Jesus, in my worst moments, I wondered if she was even real.

  Because it wasn’t like I could just go back to sleep. No, after her I was wide, wide awake. So I felt every single second of every single day without her. Torturing myself worrying about what Gentry had done. Fearing the worst and those fears only getting worse when the security reports came in of her out of character behavior.

  I vacillated between wanting to go smash Gentry’s face in and ruining his business so badly that he’ll never be able to show his face in this or any other city ever again. Antonio and Murray assure me the later will be the smarter plan in the end and that we should stay the course, but that does nothing to pacify the beast who wants vengeance now, and wants it bloody.

  I get angry even thinking about it all. Deep breaths. I close my eyes and try breathing deeply but it doesn’t do shit, so I open them again and look at Callie. Instantly the tightness in my chest loosens. The beast curls up and goes to sleep.

  I want her in my life. In my bed. At my kitchen table each morning sharing breakfast.

  But for now, I have this. Maybe it’s all I’ll ever have.

  And it’s enough.

  If I repeat the lie over and over to myself enough times, maybe it’ll become true.

  Callie doesn’t wake up until an hour and a half later when we’re in busy downtown San Francisco traffic.

  My driver, Sam, weaves expertly in and out of traffic until we pull into a small semicircle in front of a tall brick building with a red awning. There aren’t any identifying markers on the building, but I know it well.

  A valet quickly appears as Sam gets out and hurries around the front of the car. A moment later, Sam opens my door and hands me my small black duffel bag. I step out and shoulder the bag, then hold out a hand for Callie.

  She rolls her eyes and opens her own door. I chuckle as I walk around the back of her car to meet her as she steps out.

  She does take my arm when I offer it, though. The beast gives a roar of approval.

  “Is it really necessary that you have your own driver?” She asks as we head toward the front doors.

  I smile and struggle not to laugh. I lean in and speak low in her ear. Is it a shameless excuse to get close to her? Yes. Yes it is. “If you saw my driving, believe me, you’d know the driver is necessary.”

  That startles a laugh out of her. “Really? The famous Jackson Vale, admitting to a flaw?”

  No one takes the shit out of me like this woman. “I didn’t get my license until I was eighteen and the first year I had it, I got in three car accidents. Then when I was twenty-four and made my first ten million, I totaled a Bugatti.”

  “Shut up.” She grabs my shirt sleeve right as I reach for the front door to the building. “You did not.”

  I incline my head. “I’m afraid so.”

  “But don’t those cars cost, like, two million dollars?” she whispers.

  I lean in and whisper back. “Two point four million, actually.”

  “Oh my God.” She shakes her head. “Fucking rich people.” Then she looks back up at me. “But you had it insured, right?”

  Ah, she always knows how to go straight for the jugular, doesn’t she? “I was in a bad spot in my life.” I shrug. “Not really one for thinking things all the way through at the time. The dealer tried to insist I set up insurance before I drove it off the lot but I assumed he was just trying to sell me a bunch of extra crap I didn’t need. I knew I had liability and I could set the rest up myself.” I pause. “And then I just kept meaning to get around to it…”

  “Stop talking.” She starts to put her hands over her ears. “This is literally the most painful conversation I’ve ever had in my life. Two point four million, you said?”

  She’s so damn adorable, I can’t help laughing. “I survived the accident, thank you for caring so much about my welfare,” I tease.

  She waves a hand as if it’s unimportant, but the next second her eyes are flicking my way. And I have to say, I do like the feel of it. Jesus, I’ve missed her.

  “So you can see now why I use the services of a driver from time to time. Besides, this city is full of crazy motorists. Did you see those streets?” I gesture behind us at the traffic. As if to make my point, a Tesla cuts off another car and then switches lanes, barely squeezing in between two other cars in time and eliciting honks from everyone around them. I wince. “I prefer to have an expert at the wheel if I can afford it.”

  “And obviously you can.” She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows. “There are less pretentious ways to get around, you know. The light rail and the bus suit the rest of us just fine.”

  “I never said I’m a revolutionary. I can afford the creature comforts.” I come close again, so close I’m just a breath away from her ear. “So why not indulge?”

  At her sharp intake of air, I pull back and drop my hand to the small of her back, urging her inside the building.

  Her eyes dart all around from the second we step inside, her curiosity clear on her face. If she’s trying to guess where we are by the entrance area though, there aren’t many clues.

  It’s just a small room portioned off by floor to ceiling black velvet curtains. The slow thudding beat of club music rumbles from far away.

  Stephanie is manning the hostess station today. She has her customary red leather bustier on, along with a gold collar around her neck that is definitely a new accessory. I’m glad for her. She always wanted a full-time partner. More than I could ever give her.

  “Jackson.” She smiles wide at seeing me. “It’s been quite a while.”

  “I have the back room reserved.”

  She looks on her computer and types a few things in, then comes around from back behind the hostess station with my keycard, head lowered and lashes flashing.

  “Martin thought it would be amusing to make me work up here for several hours,” she hands me the keycard, her hand lingering long after I’ve taken the little card, “but I’ll be free later and I’m sure Martin would be happy to invite you to join. Just like old times.”

  She keeps fluttering her eyelashes—something I bet she practices in the mirror for as much as she’s doing it—and I’m about to tell her how happy I am that Martin made it official when Callie suddenly steps in between us.

  “You got something in your eye?” she asks Stephanie, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “What?” Stephanie glances over at her, the first time she’s acknowledged her existence since we walked in.

  “Your eyes,” Callie says, pointing overexaggeratedly at her own eye
s. “You just keep blinking them so fast. Seems like there’s some kind of problem there.” Callie scrunches her face in pretend sympathy. “Maybe you’re starting to develop a pink eye situation.”

  Stephanie makes an offended noise and looks like she’s about to start saying something, but I lose the battle and start chuckling. “Stop being a brat, Steph. Martin might put up with it, but I never did. I’m not about to start now.”

  Stephanie shivers and drops her eyes. Dammit, the last thing Callie needs to see is one of my exes Yes, Sir-ing me.

  “Follow me,” I say to Callie as I push through one of the curtains and head down a narrow hallway, the walls also painted black. Red bulbs mounted on the wall give the hallway an otherworldly glow. I wince, thinking how all this must look like to Callie.

  I can’t remember what I thought the first time. Miranda didn’t bring me here, but it was to a place like this.

  Gentry had used her up and tossed her out, just like he did everyone and she’d sought me out because he’d told her about me. Bragged about what he’d done to me. She thought we could be good for each other and she was right. More than she knew, in my case.

  I glance over my shoulder and thank Jesus, Callie’s actually following and hasn’t bolted for the exit.

  Doors line the black hallway and a little way down, I stop and open one to a changing room.

  Callie lets out a breath like she wasn’t sure what she was going to find behind the door. But it’s just a small room that’s empty except for a large black wardrobe with rounded silver stud ornamentation and hinges.

  “We’ll both need to change clothes. There is a certain…” I wave my hand in a so-so gesture, “…dress code that’s generally expected in this club.”

  “And exactly what kind of club is this?”

  Stephanie and the leather and collar didn’t give it away? “Haven’t you guessed?”

  “How about you spell it out for me?” Callie puts her hands on her hips. Even in her loose, bulky work clothes, she still looks delicious enough to devour and for a second, it’s difficult to think.

  I wanted to introduce her to this world as slowly as possible, but I guess this is it. Time to lay my cards on the table.

  She’s still standing by the door like she hasn’t made up her mind about staying or bolting so I cross the distance. “I told you I could introduce you to a safe way of playing out your desires. This is the first step.”

  I gesture around us. “This place. It’s a safe space. There are extensive background checks on all members and beyond that, I have my security monitoring everyone who comes in and out.”

  “So this is a sex club?” she cuts to the chase.

  “It’s a social space for like-minded people.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “A sex club.”

  I can’t help smiling at that. She never lets me get away with any of my shit. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

  But her head’s shaking firmly back and forth. “Any dude tries to put a collar on me, I’ll fucking castrate him.” She’s glaring now. “Even you.”

  “No, Callie.” My voice is solemn. I don’t want her thinking I’m treating this like a joke. “I don’t think that’s what you need at all. That’s not why I brought you here.”

  “Then why did you bring me?”

  “It’s easier if I show you.” It’s the truth. I could try to explain it till I’m blue in the face but it would do nothing compared to showing her a scene.

  “But first we need to change.” I walk over to the bag I brought. I might find her perfect in whatever she wears but here, what you wear speaks volumes.

  I pull out her suit and hold it up for her.

  Her mouth drops open. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. I’m not wearing that… that catsuit.”

  I sigh. How do I explain? “What you wear gives certain signals to the other patrons. No one will ever touch you here without your consent,” I hurry to assure, “and tonight, no one should approach you since you are with me. But first impressions are always important. This outfit sends the message that no one should fuck with you.”

  She looks startled that I cursed. I generally don’t, at least not out loud. I rather think the world could do with more civility, not less, so I do my part.

  Callie eyes the garment up and down for several long moments before snatching it out of my hands. She holds it by the shoulders and lets it unfold again.

  Then her eyes narrow in my direction. “And what exactly are you wearing?”

  I smile and pull out my leather pants that match her suit, shaking them out so she can see them.

  She bites her bottom lip as she tests the leather of the catsuit in between her fingers and goddammit, I swear she’s trying to kill me. My own leather pants are going to be a tad difficult to put on if I’ve got a raging hard-on.

  We’re here for her, dumbass, I remind myself.

  Her eyes shoot my direction. “Turn your ass around. If you take even one peek,” she picks up the high-heeled boot, “this heel is landing right here.” She jerks the shoe forward and stops the pointed heel half an inch from my forehead right between my eyes.

  “Yep,” I squawk in what might come out in slightly less than a manly pitch. “Got it. No peeking. Scout’s honor.”

  She scoffs. “As if you were ever a Boy Scout.”

  My mouth tips up as I step back. “What gave it away? The part where I once spanked your ass in a limo so you came harder than you had ever before in your life? Or bringing you to a sex club where I’m going to put so many fantasies in your head, you’re not going to be able to sleep for a week?”

  With that I turn around and start loosening my tie. I pull it off over my head, then my shirt.

  Is she watching? I haven’t heard any shuffling to indicate she’s turned around to start undressing so I go a little slower as I reach and tug my undershirt off my head.

  With nothing else to do but go insane worrying over her, I’ve spent more than a little time in my home gym letting out some aggression on my heavy bag.

  Finally I hear noise indicating movement and I grin. She was totally watching. But shit, now that I’m listening for her movements, I can’t stop thinking about what each noise means. Is she slipping that skirt down those luscious legs of hers? Taking off her shirt. I close my eyes and my head drops back a little when I remember her fucking amazing breasts. I’ve never in my whole life touched a more perfect pair of breasts.

  Are you a tits or ass man?

  Jesus, I about died on the spot when she whispered those words in my ear the first time we were together. She’s lucky I don’t have a heart condition. Single hottest moment of my entire damn life.

  Annnnnnnnnnnd now I’ve got a stiffy to rival all stiffies. Great.

  I shove my pants and boxers down and grab the leather pants. I’ve got to figure out how to get the damn things on and hide this hard on.

  But can I stop thinking about her naked? Nope. Can’t keep my big mouth shut, either. “Make sure to get completely naked before you put on the suit.”

  I shake my head as I step into the leather pants. It’s practical advice but now there are a million images of her flashing through my head even though I only saw her naked a handful of times.

  There’s a sharp gasp from behind me and I freeze.

  Shit, did I freak her out by saying the naked thing?

  … Or is she breaking the rules and peeking at me? The pants are only up to one thigh and my ass is out for all to see. Well, just for her to see. I don’t hear any noise for a long while and I grin. She’s totally checking me out, isn’t she?

  Maybe there’s hope after all?

  I can’t help messing with her. “Callie? I don’t hear the suit rustling anymore. Did you get stuck or are you done putting it on? Can I turn around now?”

  I pull the leather pants all the way up and there’s suddenly a flurry of noise behind me. “No!” she squeaks. “Don’t turn around.”

  Then follows all manner of
grunts and curses. Getting the suit on is obviously a struggle.

  “Callie?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t you dare turn around.”

  More grunting. More cursing.

  “Is there a mirror somewhere?” she asks a full five minutes later.

  “Can I turn around now?”

  “Not yet.” Her voice bites in the quiet room. “Is there a mirror?”

  “Cabinet in the corner of the room, on the door.” I hope that sounded less impatient than I feel. Cause I really want to see her. Yeah it’s the attire of the club but I’m still a damn man.

  “You can look.”

  Is it just me or does she sound excited?

  I turn around and holy shit. I try to swallow but don’t do it right and end up coughing. Jesus but she looks—

  Fuck, I’m just standing here gawking. But the suit hugs every one of her curves and she has so many curves. It zips up the front but she only zipped it midway up her chest so that her ample cleavage is on display and, oh shit, I’m still standing her gawking. Say something.

  “You look good,” I finally manage. Oh wow, genius. Say something smarter. “I mean, very good. Great. Beautiful.” I cringe. Beautiful? That’s all I could come up with? Besides, that’s not the point tonight.

  Because I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said that clothes have a message here. This entire place is about power. Who holds it. Who gives it up.

  The suit Callie is wearing screams power.

  And I’d swear she can feel it. It’s like she’s standing taller. Or maybe she’s realized it. Why I’ve brought her here. Not, as she put it, to wear a collar. No, that’s not what she needs at all, I don’t think.

  Gentry took her power away.

  It’s time she got it back.

  It was the gift Miranda gave me years ago and now I want to give it to Callie.

  Callie glances at herself one more time in the mirror and then nods. She looks back at me and holds up the wicked spiked stiletto boots. “Help me with my heels?”

  Usually walking into the main galleria of the club calms me down. It means release is near. But not right now. I’m wound tight as a steel guitar string.