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Somehow, amongst all the crazed activity, Gemma crawled next to Jason and lay cradled in his uninjured arm, feeling dazed and speechless. Her eyes stayed open and staring at her husband’s face. He bent down to kiss her lips.
“You’re safe.”
Later, recovering from her confused state, she couldn’t decide who had said the words. Him or her. Perhaps they both had.
Chapter 30. Painting
Day Seventeen
Jason returned to Sublime from the hospital shortly before midday. The wound had been sutured and bandaged. The doctor confirmed there was no major tissue damage. The knife had slipped down his skin, slicing into him without going deep. Gemma held his hand as they climbed out of the car. Esteban and McKenzie were there to greet them.
“Mr Lucas, are you all right?” asked McKenzie with a concerned expression.
“Yes. Fine. A flesh wound as they say. Modesto?” asked Jason.
“Conscious. The police will charge him with attempted murder once he is able to answer their questions. So far, he has done nothing but ramble away about the devil. I will need to speak to you once you’re settled. Gaspar has told me something that may explain all of this. But it should be said in private.”
“I see.” Jason’s eyebrows furrowed.
Someone had cleaned the stateroom after the police had taken their forensic photos and blood samples. The detective who had spoken to them in the hospital had found out little from her or Jason. The note-taking policeman had been faced with an injured man who had been minimalist in his explanation of what had transpired. Gemma had taken Jason’s lead and kept to the basic facts.
Jason had told the police he had been stabbed but with no understanding of the reason why. She spoke with brevity, still very shocked and pale. She explained to the investigator she had pushed Modesto away from her husband and hit him over the head in self-defence. Why the deckhand decided to stab his employer was a mystery to everyone. The Filipino appeared to have gone mad.
Upon their return, she and Jason didn’t go to the stateroom—the scene of the crime—instead they went to the sundeck and lay on the lounger. They had said very little to each other all morning. Their hands rarely left each other’s with fingers continuously intertwined and locked together.
“Do you want to go home? A flight can easily be arranged,” Jason asked her.
“I don’t know.”
“The injury is minor. The stateroom thoroughly cleaned. There is no blood left,” he reassured her.
“I’m hoping it’s not going to be a problem any longer. Blood, I mean. Seeing yours on me. Staunching your blood has reminded me we all bleed for different reasons. I shouldn’t be afraid of it. I thought I was saving your life last night....”
“You did, babe. You screamed, and I moved, causing him to miss me. Then you overcame your fear and helped me with the bleeding. I’m very proud of you. You didn’t faint, panic, or anything. We were both in shock. It’s perfectly natural to wonder what might have happened.” He smiled faintly at her.
“The nightclub....” Did she want to bring up her faults again?
“The police have confirmed she was a prostitute. German, not Croat. She recruits homeless or stray foreigners for a trafficking gang sent over here to find new girls.”
“Trafficking?”
“Yes. I gather she is being very cooperative with the police. Caught between them and her pimps can’t be a safe place to be.”
“Last night, I thought you didn’t love me. I don’t know why. Before I bumped into that girl, when I was dancing, I was ridiculously happy. I’d imagined how you would make love to me when we got back. The meal, talking about building an atelier. Your business ideas. I was so content. Then it all went wrong. My stupidity making problems—”
His finger touched her lips. “Babe. Mine, too. I misjudged how to handle you. I should have stayed with you, not Maria. Kept you close to me.”
“You came to me, though, in the end, took me. I know submission isn’t always easy. However, I consented to being your slave and accepted your control unconditionally. I shouldn’t let strangers buy me drinks because not everyone is as honourable as you. You’re not evil like Modesto thinks. He called you a sinner. Did you hear him? You’re a good man. Kinky sexual preferences don’t make
you evil, because that would make me evil, too, and I know I’m not.”
Gemma smiled. Her face relaxed as they talked, and it began the process of putting her negative emotions back in their proper place. “I wanted a romantic husband to restore my confidence in me as a person not the potential prostitute singled out in a bar. It reminded me I wanted you to make love to me. The right activity, sex, but a different sentiment. Sometimes that is how it feels with you.”
Jason sighed. He leant towards her, speaking gently. “Do you really think I feel differently towards you according to how I fuck you? As if a love switch inside me is flicked off because I’m tying you up or being sadistic. It’s because you let me fuck you however I like that I feel love towards you. It electrifies me, Gemma. Sends me to paradise, having you do whatever I please and not because you are simply submissive but because you give it all back to me with your love. Vanilla or kinky, the effect on me is exactly the same. Don’t you want me to dominate you any longer?”
“Oh, God, yes. I go all goose bumpy every time. I did last night, the moment you touched my hair, stroked it. Your control over me intoxicating and additive. I just.... I’d a different end of the evening mapped out in my head. I wasn’t expecting to be put in my place. I’m that girl who reads smutty romances and Cosmopolitan. Now and again, only romance will make me feel good about myself. Giving you pleasure can’t be the be-all and end-all of my sexual destiny—the romantic spouse loses out to my submissiveness. Also, I‘d probably drunk more than I realised. I couldn’t sleep. The more I drink, the more of an insomniac I become. Saved your life that. Me being drunk!”
He laughed then winced.
