Firm Hand

by Nora Phoenix

  "So be the Dom he needs, the Dom he deserves. If you want him to take you seriously, then act in his best interests. That means being open and transparent, as you damn well know."

  He felt so small, so infinitesimally small. "I know. I'm sorry."

  "Don't apologize to me, kid. Suck it up. Find the balls I know you have and have a conversation with him. He deserves that... and so do you. This sneaking around isn't good for either of you."

  "I know," Rhys said again, and the truth was that he did know. With anyone else, he wouldn't have dreamed of being this secretive about something that was such an important part of his life. But it was Cornell, and he was so damn scared of losing him. “I’m scared," he confessed. "Scared he'll reject me out of hand, laugh at me."

  "Trust me, I understand," Ford said, much kinder now. "But if he does, he's not the sub for you. Respect and trust, Rhys. Respect and trust," he repeated the club's motto.

  Rhys nodded, even though Ford couldn't see it. "I'll tell him today," he promised. "And I'll prove to him I'm the perfect Dom for him." He heard a noise behind him, a gasp, so loud it froze the blood in his veins. "Ford, I gotta go," he said and ended the call.

  He turned around slowly, knowing who he would face. But the devastated look on Cornell's face crushed him. "Did you say Dom?" Cornell whispered, taking a hesitant step toward Rhys.

  "I can explain," Rhys began.

  "You're a Dom?" Cornell asked a little louder.

  Moment of truth. "Yes," Rhys said, his voice surprisingly stable despite his inner turmoil. "I know I'm young, but—"

  Cornell made an abrupt gesture with his hand. "I don't care about your age. If I was old enough at twenty-one to know I was a sub, you're old enough to know you’re a Dom," Cornell said, flooring Rhys with that casual assessment.

  That was where he'd expected Cornell to protest, to insist he was too young. "Then what..."

  Cornell's eyes spewed fire as he took a few shaky steps closer. "How the hell could you keep this from me? How could you keep something so... so monumental from me?"

  Rhys's soul hurt at the accusation that echoed through the room. "I didn't know how to tell you, not without you pulling back from me or laughing at me."

  Cornell frowned, his eyes still blazing. "Laughing? Why would I laugh?"

  "Because I'm twenty-three. A baby Dom, I've been called more than once. It's funny how no one questions a sub my age, but when you're a Dom, there's a minimum age, apparently."

  "Try being a forty-five-year-old sub. Doms may have a minimum age, but I've long since passed what's considered the maximum age," Cornell said, the bitterness dripping from his voice.

  Rhys couldn't hide his surprise, and he cleared his throat. "That's the first time you've told me you're a sub. "

  Cornell waved his hand. "Like you didn't know. If you're half as good a Dom as your mom is, you spotted me from the moment you knew D/s was a thing, and your dad, too."

  Rhys sighed. "I've known for years," he admitted.

  "So why didn't you ever tell us?"

  Now came the hardest part, but before he could say anything, Cornell must've read it from his face. "Jonas knew," he said with a sigh. "You told your dad."

  "Yes, but only a few months ago. And I made him promise not to tell anyone, including you."

  "Why?" Cornell asked, the anger slowly dissipating from his eyes and his face. "Why didn't you tell me? What were you so scared of?"

  "That you'd see me differently," Rhys said quietly.

  “Of course it changes how I see you. I'm already seeing our interactions in a whole new light."

  Rhys opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Anything he said, Cornell would use against him. He might be an estate lawyer, but he was still a lawyer who could argue your socks off to the point where you happily handed them over so you could end the discussion.

  "Did you manipulate me?" Cornell asked, his eyes laser-focused on Rhys's.

  "No. I wouldn't do that. But I will admit to using subtle commands and appealing to your submissive nature to get you to do what I wanted."

  Cornell cocked one eyebrow. "And how is that not manipulating me?"

  Oh god. "Because I had your best interests at heart?" Rhys offered. "You know I'd never make you do anything that would hurt or harm you."

  The sheer disappointment on Cornell's face was like a dagger to Rhys's heart. "You did it without my consent. That's pretty manipulative, if you ask me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

  Rhys could barely swallow, so closed up was his throat. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I never meant to hurt you. All I wanted was to take care of you."

  "Forgive me if I question everything right now, including your motives. I'm gonna need some time to think about all of this and decide what I'm gonna do."

  Rhys was terrified to ask, but he had to, even if the potential answer scared him. "Are you leaving?"

  "The thought did cross my mind. I'll have to weigh my options."

  This couldn't be happening. Cornell could be leaving, and Rhys would have only himself to blame. He'd blown it, his one chance with Cornell.

  He straightened his back and forced himself to meet Cornell's eyes. "I will support whatever decision you make, both emotionally and practically," he said, his voice only wavering a little near the end.

  "Thank you," Cornell said. "I will apprise you of my decision."

  He carefully turned around, and Rhys watched helplessly as he walked out. There was nothing he could do now but wait. And hope, but even though he was an optimist by nature, he realized with heart-crunching realism that his chances here were slim. He'd fucked up so badly, and he had no one to blame but himself. His body was shaking as he lowered himself in a chair, then buried his head in his hands. Four days, Cornell had been here. Only four days, and Rhys had fucked it all up, risking him leaving.

  So. Fucking. Stupid.

  7

  To his credit, Rhys left Cornell to himself that morning, only checking in every now and then but not attempting to start a conversation. Good, because Cornell wasn't in the mood, his head still spinning from the mind-blowing discovery that Rhys was a Dom. A trained one, by the sounds of it.

  Cornell had caught the name of the Dom he'd been on the phone with—presumably his mentor. Ford. Cornell knew only one Ford in the scene, and if he was Rhys's mentor, that spoke volumes. Ford was not only a good guy, but a good Dom as well, one who took what he did seriously. He wouldn't take on anyone, so him agreeing to mentor Rhys meant the kid had talent and the right attitude.

  Kid. Somehow that word felt wrong now to use for Rhys. His age hadn't changed, and yet something inside Cornell now protested at that term. If he was a Dom, he deserved enough respect to treat him like a grownup.

  Rhys was a Dom. Cornell kept trying to wrap his mind around that. The gorgeous young man with his warm brown eyes and a body that made you sit up and take notice was a Dom. Jonas's son was a Dom. Cornell felt stupid, not being able to get past it, but it felt so big, so momentous.

  And maybe it also felt like something he should've known, should've picked up on. How had he missed the signals? He thought back on their interactions the last few days. Rhys's subtle commands. His deep care for Cornell. The way he'd reacted when Cornell hadn't shown respect.

  Cornell's cheeks flushed as he realized the signs had been there. He hadn't missed them, exactly, because he had noticed Rhys's behavior. He just hadn't come to the right conclusion because he'd never considered the possibility. That, of course, was not only woefully naive, but somewhat stupid as well.

  Cornell had known he was submissive since his first encounter with domination in college. He'd taken to it like he was born for it—and so had Jonas. And Cassie had been a Domme already, a few years older than them. She'd known as well. So why had he never considered Rhys might be interested in the lifestyle? After all, he had parents who'd been involved their whole lives.

  Maybe it was because deep down, he'd expected J
onas to tell him. It hadn't occurred to him that Rhys would keep anything secret from his father, considering how close they were. And Cornell had also never counted on the fact that his best friend—his soul mate, as Rhys had called him—would keep something so big hidden from him.

  Of course, now that he knew, he understood. Confidentiality was a cornerstone in the scene. Aside from that, as much as it hurt, Cornell understood that Jonas's loyalty to his son had outweighed his loyalty to his best friend. So, here they were, and now Cornell had to find a way to work through this.

  God, how he missed Jonas right now. He would've been able to help him make sense of it. He had so many questions. In fact...

  He called out to the kitchen, where Rhys was making lunch. "Can I ask you something?"

  Rhys looked up, meeting his eyes. "Anything."

  “How did your dad react when you told him?"

  "He was fine with it. A little surprised, but positive and supportive. He did check I was training under someone respectable," Rhys said.

  "You're training with Ford, right?" Cornell asked.

  "Yeah. I've completed my two-year training with him, but he's still mentoring me."

  Cornell nodded, happy with that answer. "He's a good Dom. A great one, in fact. At least you trained with..."

  He stopped talking, not happy with how that had sounded. Rhys had ceased cutting veggies or whatever the hell he'd been doing and looked at him, clearly awaiting his response.

  "That came out wrong, like you being a Dom is a bad thing, something negative. It's not," Cornell said.

  Rhys lifted an eyebrow. "It's not?" he asked, sounding surprised.

  "Not inherently. Clearly you have talent, or Ford wouldn't have taken you on."

  "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me yet," Cornell warned him. "The fact that you may be suitable as a Dom doesn't mean I've forgiven you for lying to me and manipulating me."

  "Duly noted," Rhys said solemnly, but with enough relief that Cornell felt his rush of hope.

  So Jonas had supported his son. No surprise there. It would've been majorly hypocritical of him to object to his son being in the D/s lifestyle. Still, it did mean that Jonas, too, had recognized his potential. He would've never supported Rhys if he was a bad Dom, no matter the fact it was his son. They'd both gotten burned by bad Doms enough times to be highly critical and selective in who they graced with their seal of approval.

  "And your mom?" Cornell asked.

  This time, it took longer for Rhys to answer. "Her reaction has been mixed," he finally said.

  Cornell considered it. What would Cassie's main objection have been? "Did she feel threatened by you?" he asked. That wouldn’t be out of the question, since some Doms had professional jealousy toward other Doms, especially those who seemed highly gifted and intuitive.

  Again, Rhys took his time. "A little, maybe, but I think she questioned my motives, mostly."

  Questioned his motives? That sounded rather ominous, as if Rhys had another reason to do it besides finding his identity in domming, just like much of Cornell's identity and self-worth was wrapped up in submitting.

  Now there was a depressing thought, and the deep sigh escaped him before he could swallow it back. Rhys looked up instantly, meeting Cornell's eyes, making him realize he'd been staring at him that whole time.

  "Why did you want to be a Dom?" he asked to cover up the strange satisfaction it provided that Rhys was so tuned into him.

  Rhys held his gaze for a second or two, then went back to what he was doing. "I visited a club, and it felt like coming home."

  Cornell waited, but when Rhys didn't say more, he asked, "Not something you're comfortable talking about?"

  "That's not it. It's more that it's a long story, far more complicated than I can explain while making our lunch, which is done by the way." He hesitated, avoiding Cornell's eyes. "Do you want to eat together, or would you prefer to eat by yourself?"

  They'd shared every meal except breakfast, which Cornell had eaten in his room. But lunch and dinner had been served at the kitchen table over easy conversation. They'd never lacked topics to talk about, and Cornell had loved how natural it had felt. If he were honest, he'd started looking forward to it a little. More than a little, even. Did he want to give that up? Then again, the odds of conversation flowing easily weren't exactly stellar.

  "I'll take that as a no," Rhys said, and it wasn't hard to detect the pain in his voice.

  "Rhys..." Cornell started, but he didn't know what to say. He shouldn't apologize, seeing as how he had nothing to be sorry for. But he didn't want to hurt him on purpose either by not eating together.

  "It's okay, Cornell," Rhys said as he walked over and put a bowl of salad in front of Cornell, the dressing on the side, exactly the way Cornell preferred it.

  "I'm not punishing you," Cornell said, grabbing Rhys's arm when he started to walk away.

  "No?" Rhys asked, but there was no meanness to it—more like he was checking with Cornell how he had meant it.

  "No," Cornell assured him. "But I need more time. There's a lot to consider."

  Rhys blew out a slow breath, and a little of the tension in his body seemed to seep out. "I can understand that, and I certainly respect it," he said. "I'll be here."

  Cornell ate his salad, his mind working as he appreciated the healthy lunch. He hadn't been lying; there was a lot to consider. How much Rhys had manipulated him, for example. That evasive answer when Cornell had asked Rhys about his motives. Why Cassie suspected his reasons for wanting to be a Dom were wrong. The list was endless. But the biggest question was the one that kept playing in his head, like the famous song from The Clash on repeat: Should I stay…or should I go?

  * * *

  Rhys kept his distance, leaving Cornell alone as much as he could. He only reminded him to do his exercises, then brought him his meds when he saw Cornell had forgotten them. Dinner was grilled salmon and pasta, eaten in front of his iPad in his office, watching some documentary.

  He hurt. God, he hurt. More than anything else, including the fact that Cornell didn't want to see him, was the knowledge that he'd wounded him. As much as it pained him to admit it, his mother had been right. He should've never kept this from Cornell, and now he was paying the price for his arrogance. He'd been such an idiot.

  When his phone rang, for one stupid second he thought it would be his dad, since he'd called so often this time of day. Then it hit him all over—his dad would never call him again.

  He answered the phone, his eyes veiled by tears. "Yeah?"

  "It's Ford. You okay?"

  And that was why Ford was such a good Dom. He not only picked up signals, but he acted on them as well, followed up when his gut told him something was wrong.

  "No," Rhys answered honestly. "But I will be."

  "He found out?"

  Rhys sighed. "Yeah, and he wasn't happy. I fucked up badly, man."

  "You did. So now you show him that you own that and that you'll do better next time. Because you won't make this mistake again, now will you?"

  Rhys cringed at the Dom-tone Ford was using. "No, Sir."

  "Good. You busy tonight?"

  Rhys considered it. He didn’t like to leave Cornell alone out of some deep protective instinct, but the truth was there was no medical reason why the man couldn’t fend for himself for a bit.

  "Not really. But I can't stay away long," Rhys said.

  "Can you spare two hours? I have a session I'd like you to observe."

  The way Ford asked it made Rhys curious. "What kind of session?"

  "You'll see... but it could come in handy someday."

  Rhys found himself agreeing on the condition Cornell would be okay with him leaving, and so he found himself approaching the man after all. He looked tired, the lines on his face more pronounced than usual. It reinforced the guilt Rhys was already feeling heaps of anyway.

  "Would it be okay with you if I go out for a few hours?" he asked.

  Cornell's
face tightened. "Going clubbing?" he asked, his tone barely civil. "Or going to a different kind of club for a scene?"

  Rhys's heart hurt. This distrust, this was what he had caused. "Neither," he said. "Believe it or not, but I'm not a fan of clubbing or hookups. And I wouldn't dream of doing a scene right now, not with how emotional and upset I am. I've been taught better, and Ford would have my ass."

  Cornell lowered his gaze. "Sorry," he mumbled. "That wasn't very nice of me."

  "No," Rhys agreed, seeing no reason to deny it or pretend. "But I can understand where it's coming from."

  "So where are you going?" Cornell asked, looking at him from between his lashes.

  All of a sudden, Rhys could see what a handful he could be as a sub, how bratty he would be at times. God, he itched to correct him, but he couldn't. Before, it had been delicate, correcting him enough to communicate his boundaries but not so much it would raise suspicion. But now that Cornell knew, it was impossible. He didn't have the right to say anything, and yet everything in him protested at Cornell's tone and impudence.

  In the end, he settled on a what he hoped would be a subtle correction. "I'm not entirely sure why I owe you this information, but I'm going to Ford's. He's doing a scene he wants me to observe."

  "What kind of scene?" Cornell asked, and both Rhys's eyebrows shot up.

  He reached for his phone and pulled it from his pocket, holding it up. "Would you like me to call Master Ford and tell him you'd like to know?" he asked, drilling into Cornell's eyes.

  "No, Sir, that won't be necessary," Cornell said, and then they stared at each other in shock. "That was... I didn't mean to say that. Not that you don't deserve… I misspoke," Cornell stammered.

  "No harm done," Rhys said, but on the inside, he was practically doing a victory dance. Cornell had called him Sir. That had to mean something, right?

  He mulled it over in the car as he drove to Ford’s, who lived about twenty minutes away. Why had Cornell called him that? He'd almost done it before, Rhys knew, but then he'd been able to swallow it back. What made him want to say it? Was it because he was so used to it? Or was Rhys connecting with him on a Dom-sub level? He knew that the best scenes, the best pairings, resulted from an intuitive, genuine connection. You couldn't force that, but it was hard to define when it happened.