The Art of Domination (15 page)

My stomach goes into free fall. He met with Erika last night? Is that where he was when I called him?
Filthy garbage?
The language in the note is so harsh, I’m reeling.
Who sent this?
Someone who knows Dylan? Was it Erika? I put the note down and try to gather my wits. My heart is beating rapidly and my hands are shaking.

Does anything look familiar?
I pick up the photos again and scan them more closely. I don’t recognize the woman. She’s attractive with long brown hair and long legs. I’m struck with a feeling of déjà vu as the images of the different woman Dylan used to date come back to mind.

I look
closer at the man in one of the photos. The only thing I can see his dick. I feel my face flush with embarrassment at ogling some stranger and I start to put the photo down, but something catches my eye in the picture. The background looks vaguely familiar, but it’s fuzzy and I can’t quite make it out.
Oh my God.
When I look at the penis again, I feel like vomiting.
I’d know that dick anywhere
. It is, after all, the very same one I’ve been fucking for the past five months.

I drop the picture on the desk and barely make it to the bathroom when I vomit.
I’m leaning over the toilet dry heaving when a coworker comes in after me.

“Oh my God, Isabel!
Are you okay, darling?”

It’s Sonya
, our office manager. She’s the same age my mother would have been had she still been alive. She’s very pretty with long beautiful brown and silver-streaked hair pulled back into a French braid. When I look up at her, her gray eyes are soft and concerned. She kneels down beside me and holds my hair, and I burst into tears and hug her. She holds me tightly for a few moments and wipes my tears with some tissue paper.

“Oh, Isabel, you poor thing.
Should I call Mr. Young for you?”

“No!” I blurt out.

She seems startled by my sudden response and then smiles a little.

“By the way, congratulations, Mrs. Young.”

Holy slap in the face.
I start sobbing again mixed with wild lunatic laughter, and Sonya looks mortified.

“Okay,
I’m calling Mr. Young,” she says as she stands up, but I jump and grab her arm. I reassure her that I’m fine, but she looks as if she doesn’t believe me.

I pull myself together the best I can in order to convince Sonya that I’ll be fine. When she leaves the restroom, I vomit again.
Did Erika send me those pictures?
It can’t be a coincidence that she’s started calling Dylan again and now I get these pictures.  How dare she do that to me. She doesn’t even know me. And to threaten to put a knife in my back
?
I shudder at the thought.  I’m even angrier now with Dylan than I was before. How could he lie to me like that? He should’ve told me that she had gotten into contact with him. At least then I could’ve prepared myself for something like this.

Holy freak show.
Those photos.
Are those the kinds of things he did to Erika? Is that Erika in the photos? Is that what he wants to do to me? Maybe whoever sent the note is right – I’m a stupid bitch for thinking I could ever make Dylan happy. What we did the last few days was more intense than anything we’ve done previously, but it still doesn’t even compare to what was going on in the photos.

I make my way back
to my desk and quickly scoop up the photos. When I go to put them back in the envelope, I see a piece of paper and a disc with the initials E.L. written on it. E for Erika? I pull out the document and, sure enough, it’s the contract between Dylan and Erika. My stomach churns at what I read.

No
limits, save for giving head. And the things he required of her?
My God
. Kneeling at his feet at all times, multiple sex partners, and fisting, to name a few. Why would she agree to such ridiculous things? I look over the disc and contemplate what to do with it.
Should I see what’s on it?
I know I’ll regret it if I do, but my morbid curiosity overwhelms me.

I ask to use someone’s private office and computer and close the door. I put the disc in the computer and bring up th
e files. There are a handful of videos with only small thumbnail images. I know I shouldn’t do this, but my body betrays me and I click on the first video titled ‘giveit2her.’

I don’t see Dylan’s face in it, but I can clea
rly hear his voice giving orders to the woman and six men while they have sex with her in ways I never thought possible. I didn’t even know a woman could have sex with that many partners at once. She’s so pretty and compliant. She does everything Dylan tells her to do without hesitation and begs for more with a perfect smile on her face. Then I hear her name; Erika.
So it is that woman.

The
most disturbing thing on the video is the sound of Dylan’s voice and that he calls her
sweetheart
. It’s not at all like the man I know. His voice on the video is more commanding and fierce; even cruel at times. He sounded briefly like this yesterday, but not to the extent in the video. I’ve always relished in the way he calls me sweetheart and now… to hear him call that woman the same pet name makes me ill.

What I see
and hear is more than I can handle and I stop the video after only a few minutes. I feel the urge to vomit again. There’s no way I can watch anymore videos. I take the disc out and try my best not to cry again. When I look down at the ring on my finger, my tears break though. No wonder he loved her; she gave him everything he wanted and gave into all of his sadistic needs and desires. He must want her back in his life if he’s willing to help her. I must not be giving him what he needs.

I make my way back out to my desk and put the
disc in with the pictures. I’m sitting at my desk zoned out when my phone rings again. It shows as a private number and I pick it up.

“Hi bitch. Did you like the package I left you?” It’s a woman’s voice and not one that I recognize.

“Is this Erika?” I ask as my temperature starts to rise.

“
No. Try again.”

“Who the hell
is this?” I ask angrily.

“I’m y
our worst nightmare, you gold-digging cunt. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Dylan alone. If not, then I promise when we meet face-to-face, that pretty angelic face of yours will need plastic surgery when I’m done with it.”

I feel like screaming into the phone.
Gold-digging cunt?
  My alter ego takes over. “Is that a challenge? Because I love a challenge. I don’t know who you are and, frankly, I don’t give a shit. You tell me the time and the place and I’ll be there, and I promise
you
that when I’m done, your face will be worse than mine.”

T
he woman’s breath hitches and she starts screaming incoherent obscenities at me and threats of physical violence. The way her voice sounds and the way she’s ranting completely freaks me out. When she screams something about slashing my throat, I quickly hang up the phone. This woman has serious mental issues and my threat only made matters worse. I know better than to antagonize a crazy person. My father was a lunatic and I learned early on to just leave him alone and not provoke him. Now I’m frightened and annoyed with myself for giving into her teasing.  My hands are shaking uncontrollably again and my body starts to shudder from the adrenaline rush.

A
wave of nausea washes over me and I see spots in my vision.
Holy sudden case of the vapors.
I feel as if I’m going to faint...

After cleaning up the office and trying to figure out what files are missing, I decide to head back home. Sawyer has been on the phone with our local security team attempting to get the video surveillance to see if we can identify who broke in.

I’
m finishing up taking down Isa’s slashed paintings when I get a frantic call from someone Isa works with. 

“Mr. Young? This is Sonya, Isa’s manager. She’s had an incident here at work. She’s ill and it looks as though she’s fainted. I’ve called 911 and they’re on their way. Oh
, wait, she seems to be coming around…”

I hear
shuffling and Isa’s voice in the background.
What the hell is going on over there?
I’m standing motionless and waiting anxiously. Isa sounds irate when the woman tells her that I’ve been called.

“I’m fine.
I told you not to call him. There’s no need for all of this…” I hear Isa say in the background.

The woman gets back on the phone and tells me that Isa won’t get on the phone with me. I tell her that I’ll be right there.

Sawyer and I quickly leave and head over to Kirkpatrick’s.  The whole ride over, I’m fidgeting.
What the hell happened?
 
Is Isa sick?
She has a tendency to forget meals so maybe she just got a little lightheaded. Sawyer is trying to make polite conversation and reassure me that everything will be fine, but he senses my anxiety and irritation and finally has the good sense to shut the hell up.

When we pull up to
the gallery, there’s an ambulance already waiting outside the building with the lights on. I run inside and see Isa sitting in an office chair and arguing with the paramedics.

“I’ve already told you that I’
m fine,” she persists.

Isa takes one look at
me she gets an enraged look on her face and looks away. The paramedics look over at me and explain that Isa should go the hospital just to have her heart checked in case her fainting spell was cardiac in nature.

“This is ridiculous. I can assure you that it wasn’t cardiac in nature, unless a broken heart would b
e considered cardiac in nature,” she says glaring at me.

What the fuck does she mean by that?
The paramedics look back at me nervously and I just shrug at them and shake my head.  I walk over to Isa to try and talk her into going with them just to get checked out. “Isabel, please. Just go with them,” I say and I grab her hand but she jerks it away from me.

“Don’t touch me,”
she whisper yells at me.

I narrow my eyes at her and I’m half tempted to put her over my knee right here in front of everyone.  She sees the look on my face but she’s not backing down.  I convince the paramedics that I’ll keep a close eye on Isa and they eventually leave, but not before making me sign an Against Medical Advice release. I see them out and when I come back to find Isa, she’s arguing with Sawyer.
What the fuck?

Instantly
feeling jealous, I walk over towards them. Sawyer looks at me and he looks frustrated.

“I tried talking Isabel
into leaving with us, but she’s being very stubborn. She says she’ll drive herself home, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. You deal with her,” he says as he throws his hands up in the air in resignation as he walks away.

He has no idea the extent of her stubbornness.
I pull Isa over to a private area of the office to try and talk to her, but she completely comes unglued on me.

“I told you not to touch me. What part o
f that don’t you understand?”

“What the fuck has gotten into you? We’re only concerned about your welfare, Isa.”

“My welfare?” she snorts at me.  “You should be concerned about more than that.”

I know where this is going; t
his is about Erika. “Listen to me - we’re not discussing what happened earlier, here, okay? Let’s go home and talk about it there.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you…” she starts in, but I cut her off.

I grab her upper arm and drag her ass to her desk. “Enough, God damn it. You’re not driving yourself home.  Get your coat and let’s go. Sawyer will drive your car back to our place.” I grab her coat and hand it to her and she rips it from my hands.  Then she grabs a few things from her desk and we head outside to the Rover. I open the door for her and she begrudgingly climbs in.

When I get inside the car, Isa has her face in her hands and is crying.

“Sweetheart…”

She looks horrified at me when I try and comfort her and
she screams at me.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that again you son-of-a-bitch!”

Fucking hell.
I sit staring at her. The look on her face is one I’ve never seen before. She’s not just angry, she’s hurting and genuinely upset.

“Isabel, if this i
s because I spoke with Erika…” again she doesn’t let me finish.

“You didn’t just speak to h
er and you damned well know it.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck
.  How the hell did she find out? I reach out to her but when I try, she pushes me away. I feel like shit.
Damn I hate seeing her cry like this.

“Isa, please let me explain.”

“No. I don’t want to hear anymore of your lies. How could you, Dylan? On our wedding night? Tell me it’s not true. Please, tell me you didn’t really see her last night,” she begs.