Claimed (18 page)

All the warmth vanished from his face with his frown. “Did I ask you where
I
wanted to go?”

While normally this wouldn’t be so hard to answer, Master Dmitri wasn’t like any man she’d met before, all fancy and
rich.
None of the places she went was suitable. “I’m not sure if you’d—”

“To your knees.”

At the sharp command that rocked right into her soul, she dropped and groaned when her knees banged against the marble floor. Master Dmitri tucked his finger under her chin, lifted her head, and his dark gaze pinned her. “Where do you want to go for dinner, Presley?”

Her first reaction was to say Scores, but there was no way she’d go there and chance that Steven would show up. While Master Dmitri knew about him—somewhat—she preferred to keep the matter private. “I love sports bars, and Mickey’s is fun.”

Master Dmitri tugged on her hair and gave her his smile. “Now, was that so hard, doll?” She laughed, shaking her head. He shook his head, too, even if it looked more in frustration. “Tomorrow I have to spend the day at work before the dungeon opens, and my schedule this week will keep me busy. Let’s do dinner on Friday evening at five.”

“That works for me, sir.”

He offered his hand. “Up you come, doll.”

Once she rose, he kept her hand tight in his and spun her slightly to the side. “Rest up and heal yourself, because next weekend—” He smacked her ass with an incredibly hard hit, making her squeak, and his grin belonged to the devil himself. “Yes, doll, that’s exactly the sound I want to hear from your mouth when we play again.”

Chapter Fifteen

On Sunday night, in the foyer of Dmitri’s home, the scent of ripe flowers swept through his nostrils as he wrapped his arms around a soft woman. “I’m pleased you came for dinner, Mary. It was great to see you and catch up.”

He leaned away and she frowned at him, her brown eyes narrowing into slits. Something his old friend Charles would have handed out a firm punishment for. “I do not forgive you that the little sweetheart Presley wasn’t here.”

Dmitri chuckled at her glare, but he agreed with her. He regretted not having Presley join them for dinner, too. She had stayed over both Friday and Saturday night after they played in the dungeon, and they shared breakfast the following morning. Not only did he enjoy the time with her, but Presley knew how to cook a killer omelet. While he cleaned the dishes, he considered asking her to stay the day with him. Instead of doing that, he let her leave so she could go home to Cora and her own house.

Making him smile even more than Mary’s glare was having Mary in his house. Before Charles’s death, he had spent every Sunday night with their family for dinners. Mary had called him their adoptive kinky son. The relationship had always felt that way: familiar and loving, just like family.

After Charles’s death, it became too hard for Mary to see Dmitri. Every time she saw him was a reminder of the Master she’d lost. Looking into Dmitri’s dominant gaze likely reminded her of her Charles, and Dmitri always noticed the pain in her eyes when she left. Most times they chatted on the telephone, as that seemed best for Mary.

Stepping away from the scowling woman, he leaned against the wall and folded his arms, even if he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “Will you let it go? I’ve apologized for Presley’s absence ten times tonight.”

Mary studied him a moment, then she flicked her long black hair. “You deserve to be happy, you know. Stop this being-single nonsense.”

He smiled, inclining his head. “You’ve told me that, too.”

Mary didn’t share in his amusement as she gave him her usual hard examination, staring him dead in the eye with pursed lips. She finally said, “I’m glad to see you’re good otherwise.”

Dmitri had heard the statement a lot when he first met Charles, from both Mary and her husband. In this moment, he realized how much he had changed since the very first time she had asked him how he was doing, when he was twenty-five.

He’d been honest with Presley about his past; his life before Charles had been strained. His upbringing had been typical, and he had happy memories from his childhood, but issues developed in his twenties. His need to dominate created tension in his relationships, not only with women but with men. Bar fights were a typical weekend affair, during which some dipshit would thrust his chest out at Dmitri, and in that challenge, he would feel the necessity to come out on top. As for his relationships with women, asking his girlfriends if he could tie them up and spank them, because it turned him on, always ended with a messy breakup that made him miserable.

That strain had been his life from the ages of twenty-one to twenty-five, until Charles introduced him to the lifestyle, which helped Dmitri control his need to dominate. Not only did he meet men exactly like him, who understood his personality and held a level of respect for other dominant men that he admired; he also met women who allowed him to indulge in his darkest desires.

Three years ago, he’d taken that need a step further in owning the dungeon he played at, as it kept everything to his rules. Personally, things for him had never been better. He smiled at Mary. “Yes, I’m doing well.” Just to make her happy, he added, “And I’m working on the relationship. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

“That’ll do.” She hesitated, and a suspicious glint formed in her features. “By the way, the accountant called the other day. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

He pushed off from the wall, settling in front of her again, and he kept his voice light. “Now, why would you think that?”

“Dmitri, I told you the last time to stop,” she said through gritted teeth. “I have a great job, I make good money, and I don’t need the extra help.” Her hands came up on her hips. “I’m not
your
submissive. You don’t need to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

He had hoped this subject wouldn’t come up, since conversation at dinner had been light and casual. He’d also concluded that he didn’t do as much as he should, and more so, didn’t see her as often as he’d like. But Dmitri knew Mary had asked to see him tonight out of guilt over the accountant’s call. Otherwise, she would’ve called him on the telephone. In hopes of ending the conversation, he kissed her cheek. “I promised Charles I would take care of you, Mary.”

“Yes.” She moved away from him. Her voice sharpened to a fierce snap. “And you have. I’m fine. The kids are even better. Our savings are back up to where they were before Charles got sick. We have all that we need. No more.”

Dmitri sighed, understanding her point, though his promise to Charles remained unbreakable. If he went back on his word, what kind of man was he? Not one he could live with. “I know and respect that you can support yourself.”

He pressed a hand against her shoulder and came closer to her face to clear up what he knew bothered her most. “This has nothing to do with
you,
or even the money, and everything to do with my promise to Charles. That vow was made between Charles and me. If receiving the money makes you feel as annoyed as I see now, don’t talk to your accountant. I will never break my oath to Charles, and you know that.”

Mary’s lips parted, but then she closed her mouth, clearly realizing he wouldn’t relent, even if she didn’t like it. She looked at her shoes, heaved a sigh, then lifted her head with teary eyes. “Charles would be so proud to see you now. What you’ve become, the dungeon you opened, the position of president at the casino—you’ve done so well for yourself.”

He smiled at her, unable to revel in those words because they didn’t come from the man himself, and he opened the front door. “Take care, Mary.”

She stepped outside into the dark night, then turned to him. “But Charles would think you were a total idiot if you let this girl go by.” She pointed at him, eyes blazing. “Don’t be stupid.”

He chuckled, leaned against the doorway, and watched Mary march down the driveway toward her car. She’d always gotten the last word in, and she had always been defiant with Charles. He’d punished as often as he’d pleasured her, but their bond was unbreakable, and Dmitri had admired their strong relationship.

As Mary drove off, Dmitri shut the door and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He scrolled down the list of contacts until he reached Cora’s name. All of the members were in his list of contacts in case he needed to reach one, but first things first. He edited the contact from
Cora
to
Presley,
then he hit the call button. He raised the phone to his ear, and three rings sounded before Presley answered in her sweet voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, doll,” he replied. “How was your day?”

“Fine, thanks.” Her voice lifted. “And yours?”

He pressed his back against the door, discovering that he liked it when she sounded so happy. “Good day. I just had dinner with Mary.”

“The doctor Mary?”

“Mm-hmm.” He pushed off the door and strode down the hallway toward his office, the silence in the house surrounding him.

“How is she?”

He snorted. “Nosy.”

Presley laughed, a raspy sound that created a stir in his groin, but as she continued, the sadness in her voice killed the heat. “She’s doing well?”

As he passed the dining room, he stopped in his tracks, his hand tightening on the phone. “Are you concerned for her?”

“Well . . .” Presley hesitated. “It’s not really my business.”

“I’m making it your business.” He stared at the door to the games room at the end of the hallway. “Tell me.”

She inhaled, which sounded like white noise through the phone line. “I thought Mary seemed sad when I met with her. You know, that her husband died and she . . . well, she hasn’t moved on.”

His muscles loosened, and he continued his approach to his office. The concern seemed so typical of Presley, so considerate. “Charles and Mary were remarkably close.” He entered his office doorway, took a seat on his leather couch, and the memory of Presley kneeling before him rushed through his mind. The subject matter, though, chased away his heated thoughts. “It’s a shame she lost Charles, but a Dom and submissive who were as committed as they were cannot stop the connection because one is gone. She belonged only to him, always to him.”

“That must be pretty incredible.”

He smiled. “It was special to watch what they shared.”

Again she paused. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Always.”

“What do you do for her?”

“Do for her?”

“At my appointment, she said she’d do anything for you, and she didn’t make me pay for the visit, so I wondered why. There has to be more to it than Charles was your mentor and close friend.” He could almost see her shrug. “Or it seemed like more.”

His initial reaction was not to tell her, considering he hadn’t talked about it since Charles’s death, but he’d demanded the truth from her. “Charles had pancreatic cancer. He fought hard and lived for twenty months after the diagnosis, yet in the end, it took him. Before he died, he asked me to take care of Mary.”

“Do you not want to talk about this?” Presley whispered. “We don’t have to.”

He hadn’t realized that he sounded any different, though his voice must’ve been drenched with grief. “It’s all right, doll.” He sighed, swallowed the emotion. “That time in my life was hard, but let me answer you.”

She stayed silent and he continued, “When Charles first got sick, I was only a few years out of college, and as I told you, I worked beneath him at the casino. His medical bills drained the family financially, since some of the unconventional treatments weren’t covered by his insurance. Before Charles died, he asked me to make sure Mary and their children were always looked after. At that time, I didn’t give her much because I didn’t have much myself, but that changed, and I do continue to help her.”

In her sweet voice that sounded so restrained with questions, she said, “That’s really nice of you.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Doll, ask what you want to know.”

“How much do you give her?” She groaned, and he could only imagine that her head was in her hands, with her cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh my God, you don’t have to answer that. I can’t believe I asked.”

“It’s all right to be curious. I think anyone would be.” He softened his voice. “Once I became president of the casino, I paid off her mortgage to clear up her biggest debt, making her monthly expenses easier to manage on her income. Now I typically deposit a hundred thousand into her account every year to restore the savings they lost with Charles’s treatments and, likely, what he would’ve provided for the family. But this year was good to me, so I deposited a hundred thousand into each of the kids’ college funds.”

“Oh.”

Dmitri turned on the couch and raised his feet onto the armrest, staring out of his office window into the dark night. He knew the number impressed her, but money would never be enough. “It’s all relative. I give that much money because I have the means to. Charles gave me purpose and changed my life when I needed it. No sum can pay back that debt.” He ran his hand over his tired eyes. “To ensure that his wife lives the lifestyle she would have if he’d lived, and puts their three children through college, is the least I can do.”

She changed the subject. “Do you see her often?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“We tried in the year after his death to see each other monthly, but it became too hard for her.” He remembered how frail Mary looked and how much worse that got after their visits. The decision not to see each other often and talk on the phone had been his idea, but Mary had accepted it without reluctance. “Seeing me is a reminder of what she lost.”

Presley sighed. “Yeah, I can see why it would be.” She paused again. “Is it hard for you, too?”

Dmitri bristled at her question. It had been so long since anyone had asked him something that private. His friends were men who didn’t discuss such things, and the only women he knew on a personal level were Club Sin submissives who would never dare approach him in that manner.

He sighed away the tension in his chest and wondered how he felt about his dinner with Mary. It did bring back the ache of Charles’s absence, yet the truth stared him dead in the face. “It is difficult to face the memory of Charles. I do miss him. But Mary needs to thank me for my help, or argue with me for providing it, and I won’t refuse her that.”