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Samantha wagged a finger at him, looking aghast. “Jason Edward Denning, you know better than that. You’re a young, good-looking billionaire. You could have any woman you want in any way you desire. Didn’t you spell out her duties with regard to the house? The living and sleeping arrangements? The type and amount of sex?”
Jason stifled his anger. He’d wanted her to be a real wife; he hadn’t wanted to buy her. “I kept it simple. Unlike your Prince Charming, Robert, I declined to contractually obligate her about how often I wanted oral gratification.”
His mother rose and crossed the room, sitting beside him to lay her delicate fingers on his knee. “That’s your mistake. You need to be detailed. Surely, if you made yourself clear?—”
“I wanted her to choose to be with me. She didn’t, and now she’s gone. End of conversation.”
Growing up steeped in wealth, he’d seen all sorts of couples marry for reasons that had far more to do with money than devotion. Not that he didn’t understand a man’s desire for companionship while protecting his assets. But from those interactions, he knew that relationships were a barter, affection bought and paid for. The currency might change, but the concept didn’t. Meeting his wife had somehow altered his opinion.
He’d not only appreciated and deeply admired her altruistic, self-sufficient nature, he had married her because of it. Eventually, he’d hoped she would be the mother of his children because she brimmed with honesty and fought for what was right. For her, nothing had been about money, but loyalty and kindness. Caring. He’d trusted her more than he’d ever trusted a female. She put family first. Jason had never imagined the traits he’d once admired so much would bite him in the ass. Or that she’d not only leave him, but deny his most basic rights as her husband and her Dom—to help and protect her—proving that she didn’t trust him at all.
Then again, hadn’t that been a recurring theme for them?
“Call your attorney,” his mother advised. “Maybe you can ‘clarify’ the terms of the agreement. Then she’ll have to sign and recommit, or you’ll box her into a corner and she will have to leave the marriage first. And in that case, she won’t receive anything, right?”
Yes, he could do all that. But she would hate him for it. He found that notion intolerable.
Jason slammed his beer on the glass-top table and rose. “I’m going out. If you need a place to stay, there’s a guest room at the top of the stairs and to the right. If you need money, there’s ten grand on my dresser. You’re welcome to either. But if you’re here when I come back, my marriage isn’t a subject open for discussion—ever.”
CHAPTER TWO
Club Dominion was closed on Sundays, but Jason kept a private playroom here with round-the-clock access. The moment he let himself into the dark, still dungeon, he admitted it wasn’t the room he sought, but the memories.
Quickly making his way down the hall, he pictured his wife as he’d first seen her, arresting a rowdy drunk in the parking lot who’d been harassing females entering. She’d been questioning the club’s owner, Mitchell Thorpe. Despite the badge on her chest, the gun holstered at her side, and the authority of her stance, his gut had told him she leaned submissive. When her glance with those soft, dark eyes had lingered on him, the need to possess her had slammed Jason like a visceral force. But she’d been gone before he could even learn her name.
The next evening, he’d spotted her out of uniform, entering Dominion with Thorpe, who both escorted and explained. Jason hadn’t wasted a second before approaching her. The Dungeon Master had introduced the beauty as Greta. An oddly German name for an obviously Italian girl, but he accepted that she’d chosen a club name as a way to protect her anonymity, especially important since she worked in law enforcement.
They’d talked that night for hours, mostly about the lifestyle, what she secretly yearned for, what she wanted to understand…and what he would be more than happy to give her.
For over a blissful year, Jason had. Casually at first, since he purposely didn’t form attachments. He wasn’t good at them, and it wasn’t logical when so many women sought him for his net worth.
From the start, his wife had been different.
Over time, she’d grown from an anxious novice, unsure if she truly wanted to pursue the lifestyle, to an eager, if somewhat willful submissive. During those months, he’d learned how caring she was, how strong she was. Their connection had grown. Shockingly, she lacked interest in his money or stature. At first, he’d wondered if her silence on the subject was a ploy to disarm him. Then his infatuation had kicked in, and he’d stopped thinking altogether.
When he’d been foolish enough to make their relationship permanent, everything had gone to hell. Now he had a wound with her name on it. He’d tried to patch and heal it…but he’d never been successful. Since Jason wasn’t accustomed to failing, the bleeding really fucking bothered him.
“Hello, Denning.” Thorpe stepped out of the shadows. “It’s been weeks since you’ve darkened these halls. What are you doing here tonight? Not a lot of action.”
Thorpe leaned against the wall, his pose seemingly casual. Bullshit. Nothing the man ever did lacked purpose.
Jason shrugged. Thorpe was one of the few who knew he’d married “Greta” and that it hadn’t worked out. Thankfully, he’d never asked questions.
Unfortunately, Jason had a hard time maintaining a similar silence. “Have you heard from her?”
Thorpe cocked his head. “Greta is no longer a member.”
That made Jason stiffen and his seeping wound throb. “That’s not her name. Don’t treat me as if I don’t know any better. I’m her fucking husband.”
“My apologies.” Thorpe’s tone was smooth and somehow not apologetic at all. “Gia is no longer a member, then.”
“She let her fees lapse? I’ll pay them.”
“No. She called me last month to revoke them. I refunded her the unused portion.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to call me first?” He tried not to sound like he was seething.
Apparently calling him hadn’t occurred to Gia, either. In fact, she had reached out to the club owner before she’d contacted her own husband. More unexpected pain whacked him. Dominion had been his first common thread with her. The place had brought them together. And she had renounced it without a word.
