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"You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?"
20
Elsa
Forty-five minutes later, I'm at work at the flower shop.
Seb walked me through the silent nightclub toward his car parked at the curb. Before leaving, he called down and asked the staff to clear the nightclub so he could walk me out the front door without anyone noticing my state of undress. I protested and told him I could walk out the back door. To which he responded I’m more important than profits, and the club could suck up the loss of business for the time needed for us to reach his car.
Uhm, what? Honestly, I was so blown away I couldn’t even protest. It was never like this with Fabio. To be fair, there’s really no comparison between the two of them.
On the face of it, Fabio was suave and personable. He went to an Ivy League school in the US, then returned to Italy to join the police force, before being posted to London on a special assignment. He’s educated, sophisticated, and comes from old money. He’s also, as it turned out, a wife beater. Just my luck.
Seb, in contrast, looks rough, with his untamed hair, and the black ink which peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and makes we want to explore just how far down his body they extend. Maybe he has a full sleeve, although I can’t tell. So far, every time I’ve seen him, he’s been dressed in one of those suits which, sadly, cover his arms completely.
And so far, Seb has treated me like I’m his. Not that he’s a gentleman; far from it. And that’s the appeal. He’s a man who’ll treat me like a queen in real life and a slut in bed. A shiver runs down my back.
He drove me home and insisted on watching as I changed my clothes. I wanted to protest, but decided against it. If he thought I was going to be embarrassed... Well, I certainly wouldn't let him know if I were. And I was. It had taken everything in me not to flinch as his hot gaze had taken in my curves, alighted on my tits, then slid down my waist to the space between my legs, over my thighs and my legs. By the time he had raised his gaze back to my face, I had been panting. And he was smirking. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing to me.
My finger slips on the rose stem I am trying to trim. The thorn pierces my skin and a drop of blood oozes out. "Damn it." I bring my finger to my mouth and suck on it. Since I met Seb, I’ve been way too distracted. For the first time I can remember, I‘m thinking not of my daughter twenty-four-seven, but of him. I pause. He’s managed to wiggle his way under my skin in such a short period of time. If I continue with this charade... Well, not a charade, according to him. If there is no divorce in theCosa Nostra, once I marry him, it’s for life. A shiver runs down my spine.
I went into the marriage with Fabio with silly romantic notions in my head. I'd hoped he'd be my Dom... Instead, he turned out to be my abuser. It's only after I started frequenting the BDSM clubs that I saw how a true Dom cares for his sub. Fabio? He simply saw me as an object to slake his lust.
I’d hoped for him to be my husband, my partner, and understand my needs. Instead, he was a monster who knew exactly how to prey on me and my tendency to see the best in people. And my insecurities. He took advantage of my trusting nature and my desire to please him and be all he wanted me to be. But the rules were always changing, so I was never quite sure what he wanted.
He started off so sweet, doting on me, buying me flowers and taking me to romantic places, and telling me how important I was to him. He told me he loved me before it even crossed my mind. He convinced me he would take care of my every need, but when it came down to it, he wanted me to take care of his needs. Except I never really knew what they were. He made me feel so stupid, like I couldn’t do anything right, and then I got pregnant. That’s when I knew I was trapped.
During the pregnancy, he either treated me like the most precious thing in his life, or forgot about me as he gallivanted around doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who. And he had the nerve to accuse me of cheating on him!
By the time Avery arrived, he’d pretty much lost interest in me and barely showed interest in her. Until he’d discovered he could use her to manipulate me. And he’s been doing that ever since.
Of course, with Seb, I know where I stand. Both of us have a practical reason for getting married, only… This damn attraction toward him is potent. Heat flushes my skin. The scent of him, the taste of his skin, the feel of his fingers on my lips, between my thighs, cupping my breasts, thrusting his fingers inside of me… It’s like he’s marked me as his. With very little effort.
My fingers tremble and the rose stem slips from my grasp. I’m falling for him. Jesus, I’m falling in love with him.No, no, no, that’s not possible.I barely know him.You don’t need to know a person to be enamored by him.Damn, why can’t I view this as a business transaction without getting my heart involved? Especially when it’s the future of my daughter at stake.
And once I’m married to him, I won’t be able to hold out against his charm. His presence. His dominance. Maybe that’s what drew me to him in the first place. His absolute assurance in knowing what he wants and going after it. He reminds me of the girl I used to be. The one who hadn’t hesitated to walk into a BDSM club and watch the others perform.
Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. Lost my conviction and my confidence in myself, as a mother and as a woman. And now, I’ve begun associating my sexuality with Seb, and I’m not sure I like it. This connection I feel toward him is not healthy. I may be marrying him; doesn’t mean I'm going to allow myself to fall for him. If I did, there’s no way I’d be able to retain my individuality. And I need to do that—for myself, for the sake of my daughter. What if... he turns out to be like Fabio? What if, like Fabio, I begin to trust him, and then, like my ex, what if Seb turns on me? And once he finds out what my true plans are, he definitely will.
I agreed to share all my thoughts and feelings with him, but it's too dangerous. I can’t allow myself to be carried away by him. I need to find a way to hold onto the parts of me that are still left. I worry I will not be able to keep my feelings out of this relationship. That the more I get to know him, the more I’ll fall for him, and I cannot bear for that to happen. I need to…
Reassure myself I’m attracted to men other than Seb. That he’s not the only man in the world who’ll be able to command me. That there are others who I could turn to, to become my Dom, if the need arises. I draw in a breath.
Of course, if Seb finds out what I’m going to do, he won't be happy. But I’ll be discreet. I’ll make sure I’m not noticed. Besides, he did say this was going to be an open marriage. He’s the one who was clear he’d be sleeping with other women. If he thinks that rule applies only to him, he’s crazy. And anyway, I’m not going to sleep with anyone else. I’m simply going to reassure myself I haven’t been so overpowered with Mr. Grumphole’s charisma, I can’t be attracted to anyone else.
There are tons of other men out there…And not one of them can help you get custody of Avery.No, no. I’m not jeopardizing this chance to build a future with Avery. I’m simply ensuring, at the end of this charade—and it will come to an end when Seb finds out the real reason I agreed to marry him—there’s something of me left. A part that has not been completely subsumed by the alphahole.
Yeah, that’s all this is about. I’m not committing a crime by wanting to spend one evening away from him, am I?
The bell over the door clangs and I glance up as a woman walks in looking for flowers to purchase for a dinner party. She’s followed by a man who wants to buy flowers for a date. I gently guide him away from the carnations and toward the spray of mixed flowers. The traffic picks up, and since I’m the only person in the shop today, I’m run off my feet. By the time it’s five p.m., my feet are aching and I’m ready to call it a night.
That’s when something vibrates in between my legs. What the—? I gasp, then squeeze my thighs together. The vibrations stop, then there’s a second, and another. The woman I’m serving looks at me oddly. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yes."
That thing between my thighs vibrates again—slowly, once, twice, then faster. It speeds up, and a pulse of heat slides up my spine. I grip the edge of the counter, and the customer’s gaze widens.
"Are you sure you’re okay?"
