Teach Me: Sinful Desires (16 page)

Destini scooted off the bed. She grabbed a robe and pulled it over her. Then she ventured to the door on her tender feet, leery of his arrival. She removed the chair. She would tell him to his face that she wanted no part of his stupid contract and games. She would tell him that she quit. That’s what she would do. Screw it all to hell. She’d quit and beg for her old job back.

The knock came again.

She undid the double bolt and opened the door.

“Ms. Sanders, good evening. This is for you, ma’am.”

A messenger, possibly a staff member, held a long red box with a black satin ribbon. Destini accepted the gift. “Have a good evening, ma’am,” the messenger said. He turned on his heels and walked off.

Destini closed the door. Bryce’s present was planned. Did he know she would flee him tonight? He seemed to know everything. Destini sat on her sofa in her modest living area. She set the box on the coffee table. For a long moment, she stared at it as if it would sit up, open, and speak to her. She even waited for that nagging inner voice of hers to explain the gift. There was nothing. So she removed the black card. The writing was in scarlet red.

My sweet Destini,

You are the rarest flower I have ever known. I can’t wait to explore what that means between you and me.

Think of the possibilities.

B-

Destini loosened the ribbon and its satin tails drifted to the dark wooden coffee table. She carefully lifted the lid and parted the scarlet tissue paper. Destini was stunned. Twelve black roses. Gathering the thorny stems into her hands with the aid of the tissue paper, she inhaled them. They were indeed real. She gazed upon such a unique beauty she felt humbled by them; they were so remarkable she felt herself almost driven to tears.

With a heavy heart Destini slumped back into the sofa cushions, cradling them in her arms. Part of her was curious, the part that had put on a leather mini dress and sashayed into a sex club trolling for forbidden things. Now, she would have to decide if her curiosity and Bryce’s obsession was worth the risk.

***

It was Saturday. She was grateful for the reprieve. But a night’s sleep on the sofa had her achy and weary. She needed a day to regroup. She’d risen and stood under the hot stream of jets from her walk-in shower until her skin was wrinkly. She dressed in her Hello Kitty pajama pants and a cut-off tee, throwing her robe over her shoulders to ward off the chill. Now she nursed a cooling cup of coffee, lost in her thoughts. Destini’s gaze turned to the vase of flowers. Overnight, the black roses had bloomed. She felt a quiet shiver go through her bones each time their rich fragrance drifted under her nose.

She remembered reading once that the roses were grown in secret somewhere. Destini set her mug of coffee down. She reached over and drew her laptop close. Flipping the lid, she immediately did a Google search, ignoring the blinking icon for her email account. She hadn’t checked email on purpose. Naiya had amped up her spamming, trying to engage her in conversation. She wasn’t ready to talk to Naiya. Her life was off- center thanks to her friend’s interference. Part of Destini blamed her for it still.

Destini’s fingers pecked away on the silver keyboard. There were several sites dedicated to the black rose and its meaning. One in particular drew her attention.

The black rose, often believed to be a myth, is indeed real. Few countries cultivate the dark flowers that are mostly used for ritualistic reasons. The rose’s enigma is rightfully earned. What many don’t know is that the petals themselves aren’t black. In fact, they are the darkest color of red, and are often referred to as Black Jade. In the
17th century, the rose became most revered by an esteemed Welsh family that can trace a direct lineage to the Tudors and King Henry VIII.

Historians theorize that the meaning can be found in its rarity, which renders it an apt symbol of profound love or other things of such a rare nature.
For the Welsh Society known to serve the Gaylor Knights, it also is the symbol of rebirth, especially a rebirth of fidelity, trust, and unbreakable bonds of restraint. To them, the Black Jade rose represents a binding of the mind, body, and soul.

Destini sat up straight. “Gaylor Knights?” she clicked the link to a Wikipedia page for an explanation. The family crest with a knight’s shield and two crossing swords appeared. It was the crest she’d seen on Bryce’s ring when he presented himself as ‘Sir’, and she also saw it on Nero’s ring. It was on the black box in the room he presented his contact.

Gaylor Knights is a long-forgotten cultural identity. The history of this exclusive society has been lost to folklore. The only primary-source account of the Gaylors date back to the 1300s and speaks of men (a clan) who were defenders in the Scottish War of Independence. Their migration to southern Wales ended in the 1400s. Their order, steeped in secrecy, was founded on principles of supremacy of the mind and soul dominance that protected them from invaders and harnessed a sect of rules and disciplines that were to strictly govern the Welsh people. The 16th century saw the rise of the Tudor family. Gaylor Knights served the Tudor progeny in secrecy and were constantly rewarded with virtuous maidens as life mates (slaves). Historians extrapolate that the women were not a forward part of the clan, but instead, served some purpose not conveyed to us through historical accounts.

This conjecture remains unproven.

That was all. Nothing else. She frowned deeply. She performed another search, and yet another. Nothing returned. Finally, typing
Gaylor family in Manchester Hills
proved useful. She traced Bryce’s mother’s family back to New Zealand under Aled Gaylor, but it was all standard stuff of Welsh royalty and references to the Tudor legacy. There was no further mention of the Gaylor Knights. She looked at the flowers again, their presence taking on new meaning. What was Bryce trying to tell her by sending her those flowers?

Her email dinged.

Destini rolled her finger over the icon and saw the envelopes of waiting unread messages.

From: Russell Dumont

Subject: Missing you

Date: November 12, 2010 10:02:21 PM EST

To: [email protected]

Destini,

I know you’re surprised to receive this email. I wasn’t sure if like everything else your email account had changed. But I decided to take a chance. I need to see you. The last time we spoke I was an ass. I know that. Meet me. I miss you.

Russell

Destini exhaled. There before her was her ticket out. Good ole Russell to the rescue. She could easily see him and fall back under his domineering spell and reacquaint herself with neglect. Or she could choose a man who she was certain would break her heart and spirit just the same. She got up from the table and found her phone. Pacing, she counted the rings, certain she would have to leave a message. Russell answered on the fourth.

“This is Russ.”

“It’s Destini. ”

Silence.

“I got your email,” she said.

“I didn’t think you’d call. You left. Changed your number, your address, you just left.”

“What is it you want?”

“Can we not do it over the phone? I need to see you.” His voice was light, but still deep and authoritative.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I have cancer. Testicular cancer Destini.”

Stunned she dropped on the sofa behind her. “What?”

“I want to see you. Meet me. Please.”

“I’m in Manchester Hills.”

“Really?” he sounded surprised. “Okay. Well I know a place. It’s called Dolphin’s Bay. Have you heard of it?”

“No, but I can find it,” she said.

“How about seven tomorrow?”

“Seven is good. Are you okay Russell?”

“I am now. See you soon.”

“Um, okay, bye,” she stammered then hung up. She looked down at the phone in her hand. Cancer? Her heart raced at the mere thought of it. She needed Naiya more than ever. She punched in the numbers to her friend but was interrupted when the doorbell chimed. She hadn’t realized her cottage had one. Tying her robe, her curls a mass of tangles, she padded over the thick carpeting to the door. “Who is it?”

“Breakfast.”

Destini undid the locks. She opened the door partially to find Bryce smiling. He wore a powder blue sweater and slacks. He looked freshly shaven and deviously handsome. “May I come in?”

“It’s not a good time, Bryce.”

“But I bought a peace offering, breakfast.” Bryce revealed a wicker basket hooked on his left arm. He raised it like a flag, waving it in surrender.

Destini chewed the inside of her bottom lip. Hard. Finally she opened the door and allowed him to step aside. Bryce walked in. “I see you got my gift.”

“I want to talk to you about that,” she said closing the door. “The roses? They’re rare, very expensive.”

“They’re just flowers,” he said under his breath.

Destini studied him. He could distort the truth with little effort.

“What is Gaylor Knights? That crest on your ring. What does it represent?”

“Ah, conversation?” Bryce nodded. “Can I fix breakfast first, before we delve into Gaylor’s secrets? You can go and get pretty for me?”

“I beg your pardon?” she said with a snort. Destini was painfully aware of her appearance, but she wasn’t too keen on him throwing it in her face.

Bryce stepped to her. “Or not. I kind of like you this way. Naked would be preferred.”

Destini rolled her eyes. “Excuse me.” She walked around him and went for her bedroom. She half expected him to follow. He didn’t. He went to the kitchen. Behind the closed door she took a deep breath and then smiled.

Fifteen

“Smells good. What is it?” Destini asked.

Bryce did a double-take from over his shoulder. He turned, his eyes roved over every uncovered part of her before lingering on her breasts. She’d chosen a jean mini-skirt and a yellow top. It was cool out, but she had no intention of leaving the warm comfort of her cottage.

“French toast. Now take a seat, milady,” he said. She observed him closely. He dropped the golden brown egg toast onto a plate. The table was set with fruit and goblets of juice. He had cleared away her laptop and coffee mug. He had arranged even the utensils how she preferred, taking time to fold her napkin as well. That was a plus.

Destini sat down. “So you do this often? Cook for your teachers? Why didn’t I get all of this special treatment at Wellington?”

Bryce set the plate down on the table and sat across from her. “You inspire me. Now.”

“Now? What’s the difference between the man you were there and the man you are here?”

“Do I need to remind you of the difference?” he asked. “Shall I show you?”

Destini lowered her eyes. She picked up her fork and pierced a slice of the powdered toast and then scooped some eggs on her plate. She took the time to cut and arrange her breakfast neatly, making sure none of it touched. When she felt his stare, she looked up into his questioning eyes. “I have this thing about my food touching,” she mumbled. Not sure why she chose to explain herself.

“Interesting. Why?”

“Does it matter?” she sighed, pouring a small puddle of amber syrup to the left side of her plate.

“I’m curious. Does it taste better that way?”

She smiled. For her it did. She preferred to dip into syrup or in this case mop some up with her French toast as opposed to covering it with the sticky sweet. “Why are you here, Bryce?”

“Because I want to be.”

“Okay. Why do you want to be?” she asked.

“We covered this already,” said Bryce. “And the contract…”

“I’m not interested in your contract,” she said. Destini forked a square cube of toast and ate it like a delicacy. She chewed slowly. Her gaze met his and she swallowed. Then she ate some more. They sat in silence while she ate for several long minutes. Taking a sip of fresh-squeezed juice she finally addressed him. “Not hungry?”

“I am hungry, but my taste far exceeds what’s on your plate.”

“That’s your plan? Feed me, seduce me, and convince me to be your submissive guest?”

“This is me giving you normalcy. You seem to need it,” Bryce said.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She sat back, lowering her fork. “I don’t like when you do that.”

“What?” he asked.

“Tell me my needs. Assume you know so much about me,” she said.

“I apologize.”

“For what?” she asked.

He smiled. “For taking liberties. I do it naturally now. For so long I wanted to say and do things to you Destini, but there was too much impropriety. Now I feel different. Don’t you?”

“I want to know about the Gaylor Knights,” she said.

His left brow winged up. “Really? Someone has been doing a little snooping.” His gaze switched to her laptop then back to her with amusement. She nearly choked. Coughing she sipped her water and collected herself.

“The crest on your ring, I’ve seen it before. Back at that club. You used it to seal the contract next to your signature. It’s a family crest. Right? It’s tied to Gaylor Knights. Some secret society I guess? What is it? A bunch of freaky men in the Kings court who loved to play with their swords?”

Bryce gave a false shiver and spoke in a lowered voice. “If that were true, my family would be shamed by the scandal.” He sat upright, poked out his chest, and put bass in his voice. Destini almost chuckled when he looked at her sternly with his arms crossed before him. He said, “The Gaylors are a respectable American family. We are so tired of the comparison. Of course we’ve heard of the Gaylor Knights. But they are as authentic as Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. All myth and folklore.”

“Then why did you adopt it?” she pressed, trying to return seriousness to her questioning. Destini wanted the truth. She knew there was something he wanted to keep hidden.