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We’re married. When we get back off honeymoon, the commission will confirm I’m taking over. I did as my father required. I’ll get her pregnant easily enough.
I’ve called in the plane before I set off from the house. It’s taxiing to a stop as I pull up in the jeep. I wait for it to come to a stop, wondering if Ophelia has gone to open her present yet. Hopefully I’ll get to see what she makes of it when I get back.
If I get back.
When the plane takes off a few minutes later with me on board, I get a horrible feeling I won’t be coming back here again. I refuse to think like that.
I know what my father would think. By letting her get close, I’ve made myself vulnerable, made myself doubt things. I never doubted things before. I always knew what I was doing.
I shake those thoughts away too. I am not my father. I will do things very differently to him. We’ll be going straight, transferring all laundered cash into perfectly legitimate operations. No need to spend the rest of our lives with the Feds breathing down our necks.
Once I deal with Michael.
I’ll give him a fair hearing. One chance to submit willingly.
And if he doesn’t?
Well, I’m just going to have to make sure he knows I won, aren’t I? One way or another, it’ll all be over by the time the honeymoon’s finished.
Then I come back here. I collect Ophelia. I bring her back to the basement rooms. She’s already gotten used to the plug in her. I can show her the larger ones, the spreader bar, the ropes, all the things that you need for a successful marriage. I can’t wait to use every single one of them on her.
I won’t make her submit because it makes it look like a real marriage to those who matter. I’ll make her submit because that is who we are now. A Dom and a sub. For the rest of our lives.
Forty-One
Ophelia
Ido my best not to worry about Vincenzo. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself for many years before I came along. I’m sure he can handle whatever it is, he’s gone back to deal with.
I’m still nervous though. Keep wondering whether I should call him. Who wants to be that needy? I can function fine without him, can’t I? Since when did I need a man around anyway?
He’s been gone two days now and I’ve not heard a thing. How long do I leave it before I assume the worst?
I’ve spent my time, while I’ve been waiting, using the gift he’s given me.
I still smile when I think about finding it for the first time. A set of acrylic paints in a presentation case signed by Tracy Benn. Canvases. Easels. Everything I need to paint something for myself. Even a note from the great artist herself. “Give it a go, Ophelia. You never know what you might create. Looking forward to your sitting. Tracy.”
I’m down in the bay, sitting on a chair, looking out at the sea, paintbrush in hand. It’s not the greatest work ever on the canvas in front of me but I’m having fun. It’s helping to distract me from worrying about Vincenzo.
The longer I work, the more I find myself thinking about him. As the sun starts to set, I get increasingly antsy. Tomorrow will be three days since I heard anything. It’s also when our honeymoon is supposed to be ending. If he isn’t back tomorrow, what do I do? I’m trapped on the island with no way off. No boats to sail, even if I knew how.
I put the brush down. I’ll give Cathy a call. Maybe she can ask Rocky what’s going on, reassure me everything’s all right.
I pick up my phone, wondering if this is what it would always be like. He’s in the mafia. He’s always going to be disappearing like this, dealing with something top secret and never breathing a word about it to me. I’ll be in the dark my entire life.
I guess I need to decide if I trust him. If I don’t, I should end it now. I’ll still get my hundred thousand, hopefully. Cathy has enough to get her business going already. I can finish my book, the one thing I didn’t bring on the honeymoon. I decided no work would take place during our week away. Shame Vincenzo didn’t feel the same way.
Is this the best I can hope for? A couple of days together here and there, then apart with no real explanation?
The line connects and Cathy sounds a little distracted. “Oh, hi,” she says. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Rocky have you?”
“That’s funny,” I reply. “I was going to ask if you’d heard anything about Vincenzo?”
“He’s not with you?”
“No. He had to fly back for something.”
“Did he say what?”
