by Lila Dubois
She headed for his office. Most days that’s where she found him when she eventually made it home, but tonight it was dark. She flipped on the light, glancing around at the heavy wood furniture. Her gaze lingered on the desk where more often than not she’d get her badly needed spanking.
She turned the lights off before closing the door and heading for their bedroom. Solomon was sitting on the bench at the end of their bed, pulling on his shoes.
“Hi,” she said softly.
He finished tying the lace before he looked up. His gaze swept over her, assessing, and it seemed like he was slow to smile. “Did you eat anything today?”
Irritation made her teeth clench. “I don’t remember.”
“Vivienne, you need to remember to eat.”
If she’d had the time to eat she would have. Why did he have to do this? Lately every time she came home it felt like he was interrogating her, and her answers were never right.
He rose from the bench and ducked into the closet. Her heart stopped as she saw two small weekend sized suitcases packed and waiting.
“Where are you going?” she asked. The words were calm and cool but inside she was screaming. Was he going on a business trip now? When she finally had a day off and she needed him?
“Not me. Us.”
“Us?” She looked at the suitcases and the idea of going anywhere made her exhausted. “Solomon, I need to be in Paris.” What she needed was to spend a weekend doing nothing, but that seemed pathetic, so she didn’t say it.
Solomon walked over, and finally put his hands on her, cupping her shoulders in his palms. “I’ve booked us a weekend away, in Germany. We’ll be back Sunday night.”
“And you didn’t think to check this with me?” Part of her was thrilled by the idea of the weekend with just him, but that part was dwarfed by her exhaustion.
Solomon pulled his hands back. “Maybe I would have if I’d seen you for more than ten minutes at any point this week.”
“I have to work. You know that.”
“And you think I don’t?” He crossed his arms. “Tell me, Viv, what country am I negotiating with right now?”
Viv. He only called her Viv when he was pissed. Tears made her throat tight, which in turn made her angry.
“I don’t know.” She shook herself, trying not to let her anger get the upper hand. She stepped into his personal space, running her hands up his arms. “How about we don’t talk right now? How about we do something else?”
Solomon sneered and stepped back. “Get what you need first, right?”
She reeled as if he’d slapped her. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Have an itch you need me to scratch for you?”
Damn it, she needed him, needed him to let her fall apart in his arms. She was only able to hold it together because at the end of the day she could always come home to him.
“Please don’t do this right now, Solomon.”
“Don’t do what?” He motioned to the suitcases. “Don’t try to get out of this godforsaken city? We’ve been trapped here for months. Don’t try to take my fiancée away for a weekend?” He grabbed her left hand, raising it as if to force her to look at the engagement ring. She’d lost weight and the ring was loose. Most of the time the heavy stone slid around to her palm.
“Don’t lash out at me,” she shot back. “You know I’m barely able to make it through each day.”
“And I’ve told you how you can alleviate some of that stress. Stop letting them jerk your chain.”
“You’re the only one allowed to do that?” she shot back.
Solomon sneered at her, and for the first time since she’d met him, he looked at her coldly, with none of the love and humor she’d come to expect.
“You like it when I yank your chain. You like it when I’m in charge—as long as it’s on your very narrow terms—because then we don’t have to talk about what’s going wrong with our relationship.”
“What’s going wrong?” A very different kind of fear settled in Vivienne’s stomach. Things had been bad between them lately, but only because her entire life had been bad. “Solomon, now you’re starting to scare me.”
He slumped. “I’m not trying to scare you, Viv.” He glanced up. “For me to scare you, I think you’d have to give a shit, and you don’t anymore.”
“How dare you? You’re the only thing that matters to me.”
“And that right there is a big fucking lie.”
“It’s not. Solomon, I need you.”
“You need me to what? To spank you or fuck you until you’re so high on either submission or pleasure that you get a nice little break from reality?”
Vivienne pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back the sobs.
“Or you need me to be there to listen when you bitch about your family? God knows you don’t need me here to give you advice, and you won’t let me take care of you. You never listen to me. This is the Vivienne show and I’m just a fucking bit player.”
“You’re being deliberately cruel.”
“No, I’m telling you the truth, and you just don’t want to hear it.”
Vivienne stomped into the closet, yanking off her uncomfortable but chic dress. She needed a minute away from him. She stripped to the skin and pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and one of his T-shirts. She looked down at herself, crinkling the Stanford cardinal-red fabric in her hand. She ripped it off and tossed it on the floor, finding the tank top that matched the sleep shorts.
When she walked out of the closet, Solomon was still in the bedroom, and for a moment that made her hope.
He looked her over and shook his head. “Let me try this a different way.” He walked towards her slowly, giving her every opportunity to move.
With each step he took, something inside her relaxed, because she knew he was going to put his hands on her, and once he did that everything would be okay. Solomon caged her against the wall, bending his head to kiss her temple. Vivienne turned her face up to his. They kissed but it felt little a awkward; every time she changed the angle, he too was moving and their teeth kept clicking together.
Frustrated she grabbed his hand, forcing it up to the back of her neck.
Instead of taking control, of tilting her head, holding her still to make sure the kiss was perfect, he reared back.
“Enough, Viv. No more fake submission.”
The word cut her. “Fake?”
“Yeah, fake. If you really wanted to be my sub, you wouldn’t fucking argue with me about going away for a weekend.”
“I’m your fiancée and, yes, your sub. Excuse me for thinking that we would talk about something like that.”
“Talk about it? We don’t talk about anything anymore. You bitch and then expect me to spank you until you get your rocks off.”
How dare he minimize everything they had. How dare he make her feel this way, sick and small, disgusting for needing him to touch her in ways that other people might find disgusting.
“You’re the one who taught me to crave a spanking,” she shot back.
“So this is my fault.”
“This right now, it is your fault.” She gestured around the room, at him dressed and ready to leave, while she was in pajamas, at the bags he’d packed without talking to her. All she wanted was to come home, crawl into his arms, and finally rest. Instead he was forcing her into what felt like her twentieth confrontation of the day.
This was her home, her sanctuary, and he was ruining it.
“You know what, Viv. I’m done.”
Her heart froze. “What?”
“I’m done with this. I’m done with your bullshit and your family’s bullshit.”
“My ‘bullshit’? My life is bullshit?” She looked down at herself. Why wasn’t she bleeding? He was tearing her apart, so why wasn’t she bleeding?
“I love you, and I’ve done my best. But I can’t watch you do this anymore. I can’t watch you kill yourself for them. I can’t be nothing more to you
than a comfort fuck.” His shoulders slumped and he looked defeated.
Vivienne ran up to him, sure that this could be fixed. “I love you too, Solomon. That hasn’t changed.”
“No. You don’t love me.” He stepped back at the same time as he pushed her away.
Panic and pain clawed at her. She reached for him with her right hand. “Solomon, please don’t do this.”
He grabbed her wrist. “Enough.” The word was a command, and the knee-jerk reaction to obey was right there. That reaction, the fact that he’d spoken to her like her Master, like her Dom, in the same conversation where he’d decided to leave her, was too much. The promise of the peace she found only in their D/s scenes had been the thread of hope she’d been holding onto all day, and he’d just turned it against her.
“Figures you only listen to me when I use my Dom voice.” A cruel smile twisted his lips.
Vivienne saw red. With her right hand still held in his, she raised her left and slapped him, as hard as she could.
Solomon released her and stumbled back, hand over his face. She watched as blood appeared between his fingers.
The sight of what she’d done shocked her into action. Vivienne ran to the bathroom and wetted a towel, racing back to him. He lifted his hand from his face and she gasped in horror at what she done. The stone in her engagement ring had opened up a long horizontal cut on his cheek, running to the corner of his mouth.
“Solomon, I’m so sorry. Oh my God. I’m calling 112.”
“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.” Solomon held the wet towel to his face, the corners of his eyes tight with pain.
“Let me get you help, and then we’ll talk. We’ll go away for the weekend, once they stitch you up.” She gestured desperately at the suitcases he’d packed.
“I’m leaving, and I’m done.”
No, this wasn’t happening. Solomon stalked out of their bedroom, grabbing his laptop bag as he passed through the living room. Vivienne raced to the phone on the hall stand. Rather than calling emergency services, she dialed the number for the private doctor her family kept on retainer. They promised to have a private ambulance at the door within minutes. By the time she finished, Solomon was already halfway down the stairs.
Frantic, she chased after him, calling his name. She caught him on the second floor landing.
“Solomon,” she sobbed, breath heaving with tears. “Solomon, my love, I’m so sorry.”
“And why are you sorry?” He turned on her, his eyes cold. “Sorry you hurt me? Sorry I’m leaving? Or sorry that you’re losing your security blanket.”
It was in that moment she realized that she’d just lost him. That this couldn’t be fixed. She started to shake. “Please, don’t.”
“Funny I thought the same thing about you—please don’t ruin what we had. Please don’t treat me like crap. I hoped, I really hoped, you would come back to me, but you didn’t. D/s held us together for longer than was healthy.” His lips quirked in a cruel smile. “We were always good together as Master and sub.”
Was that all she’d been to him? She’d wanted a future. Wanted to have children with him, grow old with him.
An insistent pounding on the door signaled the arrival of the ambulance. Vivienne had two choices, she could sink down to the floor and sob hysterically, or she could gather the tattered shreds of her dignity. Her great aunt Celeste would rise from the grave if she shamed the family by collapsing like some weak-willed fool.
Vivienne raised her chin and swallowed down her feelings, shoving them deep inside. “I called the private ambulance for you. They’ll give you the best possible care.”
Solomon jerked, as if she’d shocked him. It was hard to read his expression when he was holding the towel over half his face. Finally he nodded. “Thank you for that.”
Vivienne watched silently as he walked down half a flight of stairs. He stopped just before he would have passed out of her view, turning to look back up at her. “Goodbye, Vivienne.”
“Goodbye, Solomon.”
She waited until she heard his murmured conversation with the paramedic, and then the door closed behind them. She waited until she walked back upstairs, waited until she was in the privacy of their elegant bathroom.
Only then did she slide to the floor, back against the wall. She pressed a towel to her face and sobbed as her heart broke and her world fell apart.
Chapter 9
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean—present day
* * *
It was a long time before Solomon got up off the floor. He splashed some water on his face, changed out of the leathers into a pair of sweats and a plain white T-shirt. He’d intended to put those on after they had “hooray-for-our-future” sex in the aftercare room. There was a second T-shirt, large enough it would fit her like a nightshirt, that he’d brought for Vivienne to wear, since he’d planned on ripping that latex dress off of her, and hadn’t wanted to make her walk back to their room naked.
He left her shirt in the drawer.
The dungeon looked no less dark and elegant now than it had before, but he ignored everything, heading for the exit. It was still light outside, though given the angle of the sun, he thought it was late afternoon.
He stood for a moment in the foyer, unsure where to go. Vivienne was no doubt in their room, which was now her room. He wouldn’t intrude.
With a heavy sigh, he headed for the Dom-in-residence office, since it was the only other place on the ship he was confident he’d be able to find, and where he was also sure Vivienne would not be.
Both assumptions proved correct, though unfortunately, the office wasn’t empty. Nerio was stretched out on one of the loungers on the private deck, a paperback book in his hand. He looked up when Solomon entered.
“Ah, you look terrible.”
“Fuck you,” Solomon replied, but there was no heat in the words. He was still empty.
Nerio carefully placed a bookmark between the pages and set his book down on the side table next to a tall glass of fruit-infused water.
Solomon walked out through the open sliding glass doors onto the deck. There was nothing but water as far as he could see. It was hardly an unfamiliar view, but without the security of land beneath his feet, it didn’t seem peaceful. It seemed lonely.
“I gather your conversation didn’t go well.”
Solomon glanced over sharply. “You talked to Vivienne?”
“I did. And before you leap at me again, she came to me.”
“What did she say? Is she okay?” Solomon ran a hand through his hair. “Is she even still here? I want…”
He wanted to hold her again. He wanted to wrap his body around her.
“Yes, she is still onboard.” Nerio rose from his chair, sliding into the office and picking up the phone. “Do you want anything?”
“No.” That wasn’t true. He wanted Vivienne. She, clearly, wanted nothing to do with him. He’d offered to give up everything for her, and she’d thrown it in his face. That should have made him angry, but he still just felt empty. Maybe he hadn’t explained it right. The words in his head and the words he’d actually said hadn’t exactly matched. Did she understand he had been offering to be not just her Dom but her romantic partner? He hadn’t said that because he knew she didn’t have space in her life for a relationship, but he could be there for her, not just as her Dom, but as a vanilla lover, a boyfriend, though he found the word juvenile.
Nerio returned, joining Solomon at the rail of the deck.
“I think perhaps you and Vivienne need a…facilitator…for your conversations.”
Solomon slanted a glance at him, trying not to find that comment hopeful. “What did she tell you?”
“We did speak briefly. Both immediately after she left you, and later, when she came back to me for advice.”
Solomon thought it was a bit odd that she’d gone to their kidnapper for a chat, but there was no denying Nerio was good at reading people, and she had allowed Nerio to negotiate on her behalf.
Solomon heard a sound behind him, and watched as two staff people entered, one of them carrying a tray.
“I reminded her that she knows you. Though it seems you’ve spent as long apart as you were together. In some relationships, time doesn’t matter. It’s why friends, good friends, can be separated for months or years, and when they meet again are able to pick up where they left off. I think it is the same for you, which is why I suggested she apply a critical lens to the conversation that distressed her so violently.”
Solomon gripped the balcony railing so hard he was surprised either the wood, or his fingers, didn’t break.
“What did she say to that?” His voice was hoarse from suppressing his feelings.
Nerio turned, motioning to the staff in the office. Solomon heard their footsteps on the deck behind him.
“She had a rather creative suggestion. One I was all too happy to help her with.” Nerio glanced back. “Grab him.”
Solomon frowned in confusion, the moment before hands closed around his wrists and shoulders. He tried to yank free, but they had a good grip on him.
The last thing he saw was Nerio’s smile as the other man slipped a bag over his head.
Solomon was chained up.
Vivienne paused, breath catching in her throat as she saw him. Nerio had done as he’d promised, and gotten Solomon back to the dungeon and restrained.
Solomon was bound to one of the freestanding metal frames interspersed around the dungeon. It looked like something that belonged in a gym for use with suspension training or TRX straps. Instead, chains attached midway up the vertical supports were locked to heavy leather cuffs around Solomon’s wrists. There was another set of cuffs around his ankles, and more chain, though this was loose enough to snake along the floor, led from those restraints to the base of the frame.
In addition to being restrained at wrist and ankle, a leather gag covered the bottom half of Solomon’s face. It was the same style Nerio had used on her in the helicopter, and because it didn’t actually force the jaw open, it could be worn for longer periods of time.
