A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) (27 page)

“As an individual she’s very different from my
usual companions
. I’ll give you that. However, the nature of our relationship is the same. Casual.”

With grace and purpose, Sophia poured herself another cup of tea. She added a single spoonful of sugar, her expression impartial. An eternity seemed to pass as she stirred the steaming liquid. She finally lifted it to her mouth, stopping an inch or so from her lips, and gently blew across the surface. After taking a small sip, she set the cup on its saucer, adjusting it slightly so that it was in its proper position.

That last little gesture was a tell. Sophia had always had small moments of OCD when she was about to have a difficult conversation. Wonderful.

He took a large gulp of the perfectly brewed Kona and prepared for the verbal chess match to ensue. He should have had his coffee at the breakfast bar. It was too early for this shit.

“I’m curious,” she began, “how long have you been in this relationship with her?”

“We’ve had our arrangement for several months now.”

“I see. And you’ve collared her. That’s quite a commitment for such a casual relationship.”

“Not really. It’s simply a symbol of ownership.”

“You and I both know there is nothing simple about collaring a sub.”

“Don’t try to make this more than it is. She understands and accepts what our relationship is, and more importantly what it isn’t.” Brian downed the rest of his coffee. The now-tepid brew a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Mm. How long has she been in love with you?”

Brian nearly choked. “In love with me?”

“Surely you’ve noticed.”

“She’s not in love with me, Sophia.”

“Would it be so bad if she were? She’s smart, talented, beautiful and submissive. You clearly care for her. Jesus, Brian, you collared her. Stop lying to yourself. You’re well beyond casual and that girl loves you. She looks at you as if you hold her heart in the palm of your hand and she’s afraid at any moment you’ll crush it to a pulp.”

He gritted his teeth to keep from saying something he’d regret.

Sophia reached across the table and clasped one of his hands in hers. “I love you, Brian. Keep that in mind as you listen to what I’m about to say. Danielle has been gone for a long time. It’s time to stop picking at old wounds and let them heal. What happened to her is not and never has been your fault. It was a tragic accident and you need to quit blaming yourself. You can’t live like this.”

“Like what, Sophia?” he snapped, pulling his hand away and clenching it into a fist.

“Pushing everyone away because you’re afraid they’ll leave or be taken from you. You deserve to have love, to be happy. I think you can have that with Genevieve if you give her a chance, but you have to stop bleeding all over her for that to happen. You’re her Dom. It’s your responsibility to provide her with a healthy, stable and safe relationship. If you can’t give her that then you need to let her go.”

He wanted to tell her she was full of shit. He wasn’t afraid. He was cautious and he’d let his sub go when he was damn good and ready. Yes, when he was ready.

* * * * *

Drenched to the skin, he and Genevieve had stumbled into the foyer where he unceremoniously dumped their bags on the floor. They’d arrived home just in time to get caught in a storm. The power was out, making a safe, dry passage through the garage impossible. They’d had to make a run for it, luggage and all.

He was in a mood and had been since he’d had to sit through Sophia’s bullshit pseudo shrink session. His little submissive was in somewhat of a mood herself. She’d sulked in silence the entire flight home and he’d had about enough of it.

He grabbed an LED lantern from the closet and switched it on, bathing them in a ghostly glow.

“Upstairs and out of those wet clothes. Watch your step on the stairs.”

“Yes Sir.” The fatigue in her tone succeeded in irritating him further.

He followed her up, lighting the way. Once inside the room, he set the lantern down, kicked off his soaked shoes and peeled off his socks. They hit the floor with a wet slap. His pants and shirt came off next. He stalked to the bathroom, retrieving two towels, and tossed one in Genevieve’s direction. It landed on the floor at her feet. She sighed as she inched her sundress down and shimmied out of it. She kicked the wet heap aside then grabbed the towel and started drying herself off, all the while looking as though she’d eaten something distasteful.

“All right, out with it,” he demanded as he put on a fresh set of clothes. “You’ve been moping around for the last two days. I want to know why.”

“I haven’t been moping. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Genevieve.”

She fastened the towel around her middle, covering her nakedness and glared at him. “Okay, I’m lying.”

“And now the sarcasm.”

She fingered the ring around her neck. “Why did you give me this collar?”

“I have to explain myself to you now?”

“I’d like to know. Why collar me? Why now?”

“Because I own you, you little brat. I can make you wear whatever I want, a collar, a leash…a gag if you’re not careful.”

“So you’re going to gag me again to shut me up?”

“Don’t push me, Genevieve.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” she gestured back and forth between them. “You and me. I just can’t, not anymore. It’s too hard.”

He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The moment he’d dreaded had arrived. He’d known this day would come, but it was too soon. He wasn’t ready to let her go. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I love you, Brian. How’s that for dramatic?”

Her declaration razed him to the ground. “You don’t love me.”

“
You
don’t get to tell me how I feel!”

“Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Tell you that I love you? Well I do. I’ve tried not to. Believe me.”

“Why can’t you just be happy with the way things are?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending. You told me there would be nothing make-believe about our relationship, but that’s all it’s been. I pretend not to love you and you pretend to be cold and cruel when things get too intense.”

“Pretend? You think I’m pretending,” he sneered.

“Yes I do, and you know what else I think? I think you care about me more than you’re willing to admit.”

He was about to cross a line he wasn’t sure they would come back from. He told himself it was better for her. “You’re wrong. You’re my submissive, a girl I fuck and punish when I feel the need. You’ll never be anything more than that. Don’t delude yourself.”

Even in the dim light, he saw her face redden and her eyes well with tears. She yanked at the collar as if it were choking her. “Take this off.”

“Genevieve—”

“
Take it off now.
”

He swallowed hard, went to his desk and retrieved the extra hex key he’d placed there for safekeeping. Numb, he approached her. Her whole body shook as he unlocked the steel circle.

As soon as she was free of it, she turned to face him, her eyes narrow and turbulent. “I quit.”

She’d said the words and it felt awful to hear them. He placed the damn collar in the drawer with the key and tried not to give in to his rising sense of panic. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her.

Wiping her face, she went to the bureau and snatched the extra pair of jeans and t-shirt she kept there. He did nothing, just stood there like an idiot and watched her get dressed.

The soft light of her cell phone shone across her face, highlighting her tear-stained cheeks. “Ivy, can you come get me? Please…just come get me?” Her voice cracked with emotion as she rattled off his address.

She ended the call, jammed the phone into her back pocket then went to work collecting her things. She removed every trace of her presence from his room and stuffed them into her oversized purse. Toothbrush, gone. Sketchpad, gone. Bathing suit, flip-flops, lingerie, wet clothes, all gone.

He’d have nothing left of her.

He should have stopped her. He should have talked her out of leaving. He should have told her he’d try to give her what she needed. He should have, but he didn’t. He let her pack her things in silence.

Ten minutes had passed when he heard the sound of a car horn. Ivy must have broken every speed limit on the way over. He was hoping she’d take longer. That maybe Genevieve would change her mind before Ivy arrived. Of course that was ridiculous. He hadn’t uttered a word to convince her to stay.

She raced downstairs, snatching her luggage from the puddle on the floor. He had no idea why he followed her. She was leaving him. Did he really want to torture himself by watching her run? He reminded himself that this was for the best. Their relationship couldn’t go in the direction she wanted to push it and after tonight, it couldn’t stay the same no matter how much he wanted it to. She deserved more than he could give her.

Sophia was right. He needed to let her go.

When she walked out the front door, she glanced back over her shoulder, tears obscured by the rain. It nearly killed him to watch the last bit of hope disappear from her eyes.

“You’re such a coward,” she murmured.

And then she was gone.

He found himself in the kitchen, pouring a drink. He threw it back, barely tasting the Irish whiskey, then poured another. After he downed the second, he reached for the bottle again. A green bottle with gold lettering, exactly like the one she’d broken on the first night he’d kissed her.

Anger and grief rose so fast the bottle hit the wall and shattered before he’d even realized he’d thrown it. He stared at the shards of emerald glass as they glittered in the dim light of the lantern and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. Dark and silent, the house felt unbearably empty without her presence. He’d let her walk away. No that was a lie. He’d driven her away.

She was right. He was a coward.

* * * * *

The storm outside had died down. The power came back online minutes after she and Ivy had arrived at her apartment. Ivy had set to work immediately putting Gen’s clothes away and emptying her bags so she wouldn’t have to stare at the pile of luggage next to her door. She was now in the kitchen making tea—the Brit cure-all for anything that ails you.

“Do you want some tea? Maybe talk about it?” Ivy asked.

“No…I can’t. Not now. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, suddenly very tired. “Thanks, Ivy.”

“Okay, love. You get some rest.”

Listless, she wandered into her room and fell into bed fully clothed. She curled up on her side and stared at the wall. She felt so lost, so desolate in bed all alone. Tears that had flowed so freely before wouldn’t come now, which was fine. She’d cried enough over him.

She was so sorry she’d asked him about the stupid collar. If she’d just kept her mouth shut she’d still be his. The look of disappointment in his eyes when she’d told him she loved him was such a slap to the face. He didn’t want her love. He wanted an obedient toy to fuck and punish when he felt the need. He’d told her that from the beginning, but hearing him say it so viciously after she’d confessed how she felt hurt too much. She’d had to get away from him. And now she’d give anything to be kneeling at his feet.