Dark Secret Page 2

  I didn’t know how much gasoline Mom had used, but it was a lot. Once the fire was out, and I’d been told both of my parents were dead, came even more chaos. I’d been arrested for arson. A thirteen-year-old kid with a reputation for being a loner, surly, and always in black, the cops had assumed I’d been the one to set it. Mom and Dad were found in bed together.

  I’d protested, I’d begged anybody, somebody to listen to me. I’d been headed for a trial when forensic reports came back and showed Dad had died from a single gunshot wound to the head, long before the fire got to him. The gun was still in Mom’s hand.

  I tried to brush the memory away, to focus on the sandwich that was placed in front of me, but that night and the events that followed played on. Unstoppable.

  Mom had always been a nutcase. She’d made sure she got pregnant with me to trap Dad into marriage, and that had eaten at her already unstable conscience. She was always accusing him of cheating, of things that made no sense, when all he did was work and come home to her. Even I knew Dad wasn’t cheating, but she’d get in these moods, and there’d be this look in her eyes. A look that terrified me immensely, even when I was thirteen. She’d had that evil in her eyes all of that day, and I’d gone to bed early with a book to avoid her.

  I’d woken up when she came in and brushed my hair from my face. “I’ve always loved you, baby boy. You gave me your father, but it’s time now. It’s time to end his infidelity and to make sure you never leave me either. Sleep well, my boy, Mommy loves you.”

  I’d kept my eyes shut and my breathing even up to that point. I’d pretended to be asleep as the sound of something splashing against the hardwood floor made my ears twitch. I’d looked up at her when I smelled the gasoline and caught her face in the moonlight. There’d been nothing but madness there.

  Yes, she’d been insane, but her insanity was her love. She’d felt that she’d trapped my father into marriage, and she’d gone crazy over it. My dad hadn’t consented to the life she’d brought on him; she’d tricked him, and I was living proof of that trickery. She’d given him fourteen years of hell, and all he’d ever done was try to make her happy.

  He’d never resented me, or the fact that I’d existed. He’d loved her, despite her mental illness. He’d loved her through countless episodes that ended with the house destroyed and her in a puddle on the floor in his arms. My father and I would clean the house up, and eventually, we stopped decorating the walls and the shelves. She couldn’t throw what wasn’t there.

  It had all taken its toll, and on that one final night, she’d shown me exactly what consent meant. It meant I’d never had to live with insanity again. Because if you both knew what you were walking into, then there would be no doubts, right? No guilt. Or insanity.

  So why couldn’t Stephanie understand that? It was simple, really, and perhaps it seemed trivial to her, but it wasn’t a laughing matter. You had to know exactly what you were getting into, and for me, that was sex that could sometimes stray from the bedroom with whips and chains attached. Other times, it meant I needed my solitude.

  I didn’t want a relationship because I doubted I’d ever been able to have what my adoptive parents had. I didn’t exactly deserve a love like that. With my past, it wasn’t hard to understand why I’d shy away from long-term relationships either. I was the reason my mother killed my father and then herself. The reason why she’d tried to erase my existence from the world.

  I picked up my sandwich and bit into it, but I didn’t taste it. I could tell it had gone cold, but I didn’t care. The memories of my origins took the taste away, dulled my senses and my mind. I’d need a drink after this.

  I finished my food off and went back to the penthouse. A swim might do me good. The exercise was nice, and the heated water soothed the aches, but it did little to soothe my mind. I heard my phone ringing and wanted it to be Stephanie so fucking bad.

  It wasn’t; it was my adoptive mother. I dried my hands and called her back since I’d missed the call.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I sat down on a lounger, the towel around my waist. There was something about talking to a parent that made me feel ashamed of swimming naked in my own pool.

  “Hiya, son, you didn’t call me yesterday, and I was worried. You always call me on Fridays.”

  “What? Today’s Friday, Mom.”

  “No, it’s not. That was yesterday, baby. Have you got your days mixed up?” She sounded concerned, but I reassured her with a chuckle.

  “Silly me; you’re right.” Holy fuck, I’d lost two days, not just one? How much had I drunk? “Too much work distracting me.”

  “Well, you need to take a break then, son. Have a night off, and just relax.” Mom’s voice had lost the concerns and was now full of chiding. She was good at that, but it always came across as motherly, not nagging.

  She was right, though. I needed to figure my life out. I’d drunk myself stupid for two days over a woman? Yeah, but Stephanie wasn’t just any woman. She blew my mind in so many ways. In the bedroom, out of it, and it wasn’t just her sexiness. She was intelligent, beautiful, and kind. To me, with me, and to others. She was just … different and sweet.

  Maybe this was all wrong of me. Maybe I needed to start acting like I wasn’t damaged goods. This woman that I definitely didn’t deserve wanted me, on her own terms. Could I do that?

  Could I trust a woman without a contract guiding what happened or didn’t? All bets would be off. She’d be able to walk away when she wanted to, if I actually went into a relationship with her. I felt confused, and that frustrated me to no end.

  I knew by now that no other woman would do for me. I’d tried to have a little fun one night when I first met her, and I hadn’t been able to get her off of my mind. I’d gone home, instead, and that should have been the first warning that something wasn’t right. That she’d already started to change me.

  Stephanie, with those tempting gray eyes and that infectious laugh of hers. Could I go on much longer without her? I doubted it if I’d had to sleep two days to get over the shock of her walking out on me. How did I go about this while keeping some of my pride intact?

  I left the pool room and moved into the dark living room. I went to the glass walls to stare out at the city below. Cars and resort hotels turned the darkness into day in the distance, but from my lofty perch I could see darkness that reigned on the outskirts. That was kind of like me with Stephanie.

  At the center was fun, life, light, and on the outskirts? Dark emptiness. She’d brought so much to me, and one of those things was this feeling I’d tried to ignore, up until she’d tore up the contract and walked out on me. Completion. I didn’t feel so … hollow, inside anymore. Not when she was around.

  I’d seen the hurt and anger in her eyes and ignored it that night. I’d thought my will was stronger, and she’d bow down, in true sub fashion, and give in to my demands for a signed contract. Instead, she’d shown a subs prerogative and walked out. She’d shown some sense, in fact. She’d been right about one thing—signing contracts so frequently was stupid.

  Maybe, just maybe, I could offer her one for six months. Would that be long enough to get her out of my system? Would that be long enough for her to grow tired of me?

  This time it was me who chewed at their lip. I swiped my hand over my jaw and thought about it. Could I go to her and be with her? Without a contract? That was scary to me. Dangerous even. I didn’t want a relationship, but little Miss Stephanie had changed all of that.

  I was fairly certain I’d wanted a relationship with her. My heart raced, and my blood heated as I thought about a little more than just sex and someone to watch a movie with. A woman to maybe, care for? I wasn’t about to say love because that was just a stupid concept women made up, but caring and friendship were real.

  Would she want me to call her? Should I go to her house and ask for forgiveness? It had been two days. She was probably fuming by now and ready to throw her shoes at me. She had a pretty good collection of those,
I’d noticed. Some of them were rather pointy too. Hmm.

  I’d tried to call her, but the call went right to voicemail. She was either screening her calls or the phone was off. As I knew she’d never turned her phone off, it must have been that she didn’t want to talk to me. Well then.

  Maybe a drive to see Roxie and get her opinion on all of this, was in order.

  Emily

  The thing about having stuff in your house to dampen the echo was that it needed to be cleaned. I’d barely had my new knickknacks for a week and dust had already started to settle on all of them. I probably wouldn’t have noticed two weeks ago, but as I looked around the house for something to fill my time, the first signs of dust caught my eye.

  I’d found a dusting cloth and some utensil I’d bought because it promised to cut my cleaning time in half and headed to the living room first. I polished the candle holders and dusted the beer crates I’d moved in from the hallway. They looked cute in there, but boy, did they collect dust. Then I’d made my way through the rest of the house and polished up a few more things, and before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees, cleaning the grout in the bathroom. This was not how I’d planned to spend my day, but then I didn’t really have a plan.

  I threw off the yellow plastic gloves I’d put on to protect my nails and skin and looked around. I was lonely, but I was also a little upset. I thought Dylan would have called me by now. He hadn’t, though, and that made me angry. Well, more hurt than angry, but still. He could have at least sent me a message or something.

  I didn’t think he was serious when he’d said it was over if I left. People said things like that all the time, but they didn’t mean it. I’d figured he’d be angry for a little while, and then he’d come around and see me, his face sheepish. Or I’d get a message asking if I wanted to go and eat. There’d been none of that.

  I’d twisted my mouth around as I thought about spending the rest of my evening on my hands and knees, but this time scrubbing instead of, well … those other things. Oh, those things I was starting to miss really badly. I sat back against the wall and thought about the things I’d done with Dylan and wondered.

  Hmmm.

  Could I? No, I couldn’t. Maybe, if it was someone similar… I didn’t think I could do any of that kind of stuff with someone who wasn’t Dylan, but I wouldn’t know until I tried, would I? It had been a week since I’d left his place. There’d been no communication. Maybe it really was over?

  If that was the case, there was no use in sitting here, waiting on a call that wouldn’t come. I got up, took a shower, dressed up a little, put my now well-worn mask in my bag, and headed for Elmo’s. I’d have a drink or two, have a look around, and see what happened. Surely, Dylan wouldn’t be there? Maybe he’d found a property by now and was planning to move on, his conquest in the bag.

  He knew Roxie and I were friends, and that I might turn up there. He wouldn’t dare come in, not if he wasn’t looking for me. I went in the back way, my mask in place from the moment I’d parked the car, and found Roxie quickly. She’d just finished her set and was in her dressing room, about to change her clothes after a quick shower.

  She’d hugged me, before she sat down, her dressing gown a whirl of purple silk around her. “Tell me, baby.”

  “Well, I needed some time out of that house. I feel like a ghost in it sometimes. Like I’m haunting it or something.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Has Dylan called?” Her pretty face, heavily made up but artfully so, examined my features, and didn’t find a hint of sadness. I’d done my makeup well and hidden the dark circles under my eyes.

  “No, and at this point, I don’t care if he calls.” I schooled my features into a defiant look, flipped my blonde hair out of my face, and stared off into the distance. “He can just fuck right off.”

  “Do you mean that, though?” she asked as she put a pencil skirt on over a pair of lacy panties and a very supportive bra. She’d slid a matching top on with a peplum waist and a plunging neckline. The deep burgundy color suited her, and I’d wondered how the same outfit would look on me.

  I looked down at the black silk dress that barely covered my thighs, and knew I was elegantly dressed, but that was sexy and smart looking. I’d decided to order some more clothes when I got home.

  “Emily!” she whispered loudly and bent down to look me in the eyes. Blue met gray, and I backed my head up to avoid her.

  “Of course, I mean it. He hasn’t called; he hasn’t been by…” I didn’t finish because she pulled on a pair of shoes and sat beside me.

  “You aren’t here looking for someone to replace him with, are you? Or, heaven help me, make him jealous if he finds out?” Again, she leaned into me and looked deep into my eyes.

  “I’d kind of…” I let the words trail off because I felt guilty. That was basically my plan, even if I didn’t want to admit it. “Too dramatic?”

  “Girl, if I could count how many times women have done that and regretted it. I don’t recommend it, though, others might. You’ll just end up feeling trashy, and it won’t solve anything. If you want him, then you’ll just have to wait. Instead, come have a drink with me and don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  “Is that what you did when Freddie didn’t renew your contract?” I asked softly, because I didn’t want to hurt her, but I also wanted to know. We headed to the bar as Roxie answered.

  “I drank myself silly the first night, at home, where nobody had to pick up the pieces. Then, I went back to work. I’ve got another fella on the line already, though. Freddie’s moved on, and I have to face that.”

  “You just said I shouldn’t do that.” I was confused, and my face showed it. The barman brought us our drinks, and we went to a table.

  “Do what?” She looked equally confused as we sat.

  “Replace him with another man.”

  “Oh, honey, no.” She laughed. “Mine is strictly business. That’s different. No man will ever hold my heart. There isn’t one man enough for the challenge.”

  I knew she’d meant it, and I’d wondered, not for the first time, exactly what she’d lived through in her life. Roxie’s practicality was always something I’d admired, and it didn’t surprise me that she’d face hurt with the same attitude. You couldn’t change someone’s mind, even if you’d wanted to, and business was business. I saw the sense of her words, and knew I’d been right to come to her. She took my hand, purely platonically, and looked at me with renewed curiosity.

  “Do you love him? Is that the problem?” She didn’t chew at her lip, but I knew she’d wanted to by the way her lips pursed.

  “I don’t think I know him enough to love him, Roxie.” I looked away, completely surprised at this sudden intimacy.

  “Have you ever, ahem, have you ever been in love before, Em, ah, Stephanie?” She didn’t look at me until she almost used my real name.

  I stared back at her, certain I looked like a deer caught in the headlights, even behind my mask. How did I answer that? I’d never had time. I’d gone to an all-girls school, and I’d always been book-ended by a brother, a mother, my father or Jesse. I’d never had a moment alone to fall in love, much less be in love.

  “No,” I finally answered her.

  “Ah, so that complicates it even more, then.” She looked away and pursed her lips again, her eyes narrowed. “Hmmm.”

  It seemed I wasn’t the only one doing that lately, then. “Well?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps…” She paused and looked deeper at me, although I’d been certain that was impossible a second ago, but she managed to do it now. “You know, I wouldn’t say this normally, but you know you weren’t a very good sub, if you walked out on him.”

  I stared at her, shocked. My jaw even hung open a little bit as I stared back at her. “Not a very good … I just … well…”

  “You can sit there and blink all you want to, my dear, but you weren’t.”

  “He wanted another contract. I’m sick of signing contract
s. He either wants me or he doesn’t.” I felt as if I’d been filled with some kind of righteous, burning light as I sat there, indignant. Not a very good sub, my ass!

  “I don’t know a lot about what goes on between you two, you’re both very closed-mouth on the subject, but I think you’re new to this and still learning. You can be forgiven for walking out on your dom. I could be wrong, but I think he’s different with you. I don’t know him very well, quite frankly, but from what you’ve said, he doesn't have a very tight leash on you. Something tells me that’s not normal for him, though?” Her fingers tapped on the table, and she took on a faraway look.

  “I can’t wait for what you decide on next…” It dripped with sarcasm, but I didn’t leave. Maybe she was right.

  In the videos, and the vignettes I’d seen in the clubs, the doms had been much rougher with their subs. Dylan was definitely controlling when we had sex, and he had demands, sometimes, but he’d never actually left me in a lot of physical pain.

  “Do you like pain, Em, er, Stephanie?” She licked her lips before she added more. “I mean really like it?”

  “I, well, Dylan hasn’t…” I stopped and licked my suddenly hot lips. This was definitely personal. “Uh.”

  “If you want my help, you have to talk to me.”

  “I’m not used to having such intimate conversations, that’s all.” I pulled away to ease some of the too intimate atmosphere. I couldn’t talk to her while she held my hands. “It’s just, I don’t know what I want. I don’t want to be degraded, not like some of those people in the videos…”

  “That’s fine. I think what you’re after is more of a safe kind of experience. You’re more of a brat who pushes her dom, if I was to guess.”

  “I suppose.” Once she’d said it, the word kind of made sense. I wanted to be bad, to goad him into punishing me, in very sexy ways, not in the make me never act like that again, kind of way. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “So then, walking out is more of a tantrum for attention?” she supplied with a raised eyebrow.