The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (53 page)

Jeremy blinked at me in disbelief.
 
Then he raised his hands again, but this time in defeat.
 
“You’re right,” he said, voice weary.
 
“You’re a lost cause, so why should I bother?
 
Carry on with your lonely, pathetic life as you’ve been living it.
 
Drown in your own misery until you’re too old and useless to do something about it.
 
You will die alone, Margie, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
 

           
Fury like no fury filled me at his words.
 
I sprung off the bed and turned stormy eyes to him.
 
“You have some fucking nerve, you know that?”
 
My voice was dark and ugly, laden with all of the pent-up rage, pain and frustration I hadn’t been able to vent since yesterday.
 
“You come here and insult me, call me coldhearted or whatever, yet you were the one who went behind my back and told all of my secrets to a stranger so that he could write about it.
 
Oh, I’m the villain!
 
I’m the bad guy in this.
 
You know what, Jeremy?
 
Fuck you!
 
I don’t need you or your intervention in my life.
 
Mind your own damn business for once!
 
Go out and find yourself a man, that way you can have a life of your own.
 
But don’t you dare come here and tell me that I’m selfish, that I don’t care about anyone’s feelings but my own.
 
And don’t you dare just sit there and tell me that I’m going to die alone because I…
 
I don’t care!
”
 

Numbness took over my body, my legs wobbling as I moved to the windows, and it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping off one of them.
 

“You will die alone, Margie, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself
.”

I leaned against the wall and considered the wreckage of my life.
 
Pain fluttered within me, and I struggled with words, trying to form a coherent sentence.
 

“You’re right, Jeremy,” I said in a small voice.
 
“I’m sorry.”

           
I put my face in my hands and cried like I’d never cried before.
 
I cried all the time now, it seemed.
 
The floodgates were open and I couldn’t close them again.

           
I heard Jeremy rise from his seat and walk slowly, tentatively, toward me.
 
He squeezed my shoulder, then turned me around and held me in his arms.
 
He offered me the sort of comfort that I had never allowed anyone to give me except for Seton, and I surrendered fully to it.
 

           
“Margie,” he whispered, squeezing me tighter against him.
 
“I know the truth hurts, but it has to be said.
 
David thought you needed a harsh dose of tough love.
 
His methods are a little more extreme than mine, and I can’t do the things he does.
 
I’m not into that D/s stuff, for one thing.
 
Too weird for me.
 
Secondly, I’m gay.
 
But I am your friend, and all I can do is be there for you.
 
And I’m here now.
 
So talk to me.”
 

           
I slid my hands around his back and shook my head, my face buried in his neck.
 
“I’m through talking about me.
 
You were right about everything.
 
I’ve reached the same conclusions myself, but… it’s hard to read and hear what other people think and feel about you, is all.”

           
His smile was one I felt rather than saw.
 
“I know.
 
I’m proud of you, hon.
 
You’ve taken it all like a champ.
 
You’ve gone from a self-absorbed, slightly deluded woman to a… less self-absorbed, not so deluded woman.”

           
“Thanks for the backhanded compliment,” I countered dryly.

           
His body shook with laughter.
 
“You know what I meant, Margie girl.”

           
I smiled and pulled back a little, meeting his gaze.
 
“Thanks for being such an awesome friend.”
 
I brushed a soft kiss across his cheek.
 
“All hags should have a fag like you.”

           
Amusement creased the corners of his eyes.
 
“And I’ve got the best hag a fag could ever ask for.”
 

I laughed, as he’d intended, but it didn’t ease the pain in my heart.
 
There was a lot of soul-searching to be done, a lot of mental readjustments to take care of.
 
I hoped this would be the end of it though.
 
One more bout of this shit and I would be flinging myself from one of my windows for sure.
 

Armed with the determination to lighten up our solemn moods, I swiped away tears and widened my smile.
 
“So how was it like in Cambridge?” I said with forceful cheerfulness.
 
“Were you really still in the closet back then?”

He groaned.
 
“Yeah, but I was only fooling myself.
 
Almost everyone at campus suspected I was gay, especially when we went to the clubs and I cruised with the guys instead of the girls.
 
And it wasn’t easy having the roommates I had.
 
David and Quinn, they’re hot!”

I laughed.
 
“I’ve met Quinn.
 
He
is
hot!
 
I bet you got a real eyeful whenever you saw those two naked, huh?”

“Ain’t that the truth.”
 
Amusement touched his voice.
 
“Hung like a horse.
 
Both of them.
 
Unfortunately, they were randy little heterosexual fuckers who used any excuse to get into a woman’s panties.
 
They weren’t into guys at all.
 
Bastards.”

“And you never tried to get them drunk and…?”
 
I raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Have my wicked way with them?”
 
He snorted softly.
 
“Nope!
 
David and Quinn are not the sorts of guys you’d want to mess around with, so I didn’t even try.”
 
He was silent for a moment, then said, “Want a friendly piece of advice, Margie?”

I shot him a wary look.
 
“I think I’m going to get it whether I want it or not.”

He brushed a brotherly kiss across my forehead.
 
“You know me too well, hon.
 
Call David.
 
Have a talk with him.
 
I think the two of you should—”

           
“Jeremy!”
 
I heaved out a ragged breath and cast him an earnest look.
 
“Please, don’t meddle in anymore.
 
I don’t know if I want to see Seton right now, so don’t pressure me.”

           
He sighed and patted me gently on the shoulder.
 
“Fine, I’ll back off.
 
You’re right—I need a man in my life.”

           
A smile teased my lips.
 
“You most certainly do.”

****

Two weeks later, recovered from my emotional wounds, I was back in the streets of Northampton, my brand spanking new Burberry leather tote bag slung over my arm as I sprinted out of the hairdressers’ and made my way to Starbucks.
 
The handbag was a gift from Dana, who sent it from London about a week ago.
 
Her note said that she knew I liked designer bags and had wanted me to sport the hottest item in London right now.
 
She also wrote that she was delighted with the news that Seton and I were happy together.
 
I sent her a heartfelt but brief thank-you e-mail, omitting the fact that Seton and I were no longer involved.
 
I was certain that he had broken the news to her by now anyway.
 

The trip to the hairdresser had been fun.
 
I’d gotten up extra early to get a haircut, and now my hair swished bouncily on my bare neck.
 
A new look, a new beginning.
 
Perhaps later I would go shopping for some new clothes—designer duds to go with my kickass purse.
 
Yup, I thought, strolling over to the coffee shop, I will make a fresh start.
 
Out with the old, in with the new.
  
I felt better already.

           
Starbucks was full, as usual.
 
I cast a quick glance at the tables out back and caught a glimpse of Mac Guy typing away at his laptop.
 
I smiled to myself.
 
Good ol’ Mac Guy.
 
Good ol’ Northampton.
 
It was nice to be out in the real world after two weeks of misery and isolation.
 
I paid for my frozen coffee and headed back out, wanting to enjoy the scenery and weather before I had to lope off to work.
 

I was back from a two-week sabbatical that Alfred had been more than happy to give me.
 
I had a feeling he and the others knew, or at least suspected, that there was something going on between Seton and me.
 
Everyone was very accommodating.
 
It was strange.
 
Strange, but nice.
 
My time away from the office hadn’t been a vacation though.
 
I still had authors and their manuscripts to deal with, so Alfred had let me work from home.
 

“Sure, kid!” he’d said cheerfully over the phone.
 
“Take all the time you need!
 
And don’t worry about your work.
 
We have phones.
 
We have e-mail.
 
Summer’s here, so we’re not in the office all that much anyway.
 
Just be sure to carry your BlackBerry at all times.”

           
A small smile crept over my face.
 
Alfred was awesome, he really was.
 
And as long as Jeremy’s motor mouth had nothing to do with my boss’s sympathy, I would adore the old guy for all eternity.

I walked happily to work, sipping on my iced coffee and breathing in the crisp morning air.
 
As usual, Northampton was crowded with early-morning travelers, making it difficult to cross the rather busy streets.
 
There was a sense of expectancy in the air, as fresh as the green grass growing tall in the park near the Academy of Music, as sweet as a flower coming into bloom.
 
It was a time of renewal and rebirth, a time for a clean slate.
 
This feeling was all in my head, I was certain of it, for most of everything around me was as it always had been, but it felt wonderfully new to me, like springtime instead of midsummer.
 

But as I neared the steps that led up to the historical brownstone where Bookends AtoZ was situated, the sharp scent of cologne, aftershave and man teased my nostrils.
 
My skin prickled with awareness, and I knew that I was no longer alone.
 
There were footsteps behind me.

           
“Marjorie.”
 
The voice was warm and familiar, and the rich, sexy English lilt caressed my skin as smoothly as a touch.

           
Holding back a breath, I stopped walking and spun around.
 
Seton and Jeremy were there, both wearing black suits.
 
Seton’s suit was tailored and elegant while Jeremy’s looked generic and sloppy.
 
Seton looked finger-licking gorgeous, his short hair tousled from the wind, a large coffee in his hand and a newspaper tucked underneath his arm.
 
Remnants of a bruise were scattered about his right eye—the last traces of his fistfight with Jeremy, I assumed.
 
Jeremy’s bruises had vanished.
 
It appeared that Seton had gotten the worst of it during that fight.
 
My heart did a little flip-flop at the sight of him, and it was all I could do to stop myself from sweeping my arms around him.