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What happened with Beau last night certainly didn’t hurt me. I don’t feel any lessmebecause of it. In fact, I feel more like myself than ever.
My fingers glide over the glass of the display case as I smile. The assortment of items displayed inside all promise something different. Pain, control, excitement, pleasure. I’ve never taken the time to really look at them before. They always held promises for someone else, but never for me. And now…I see them all differently.
I can imagine striking Beau’s flawless skin with the assortment of floggers. How he’d look strapped to my bed with the sleek black ropes hanging along the back wall. I even consider taking one of the modern cock cages for the days when he deserves it. I love the image of him wearing it and hating me for it.
But my eyes keep coming back to a certain display of items kept securely in the case by the front of the small store. Items that promise something I’m stupid to wish for—commitment. The Salacious store only carries a small variety of collars, and they are all perfectly minimal. Simple, sleek, and more inviting than I ever realized.
Yesterday, he promised me he was mine. But that was just something we said in thescene, whatever that means. Our relationship is still neatly tucked inside this Domme/sub dynamic, but even I’m struggling to see the blurred lines. Beau is mine in every way that matters, but for how long? And how much is he really giving me?
We never take our relationship outside of my house. I won’t meet his friends and we can’t go on dates. There is no future, only secrets.
So, howmineis he, really?
And why do I care? This was just supposed to be an experiment. Itstill isan experiment. I’m sure to him, that’s all I am. And I hate my stupid heart for getting soft on him and even daring to imagine more.
Now that I’ve helped him find his submissive side, he’ll be a better boyfriend for someone else. Someone like that beautiful girl he spoke to yesterday.
And I’ll be free to find another sub, maybe one more suitable in age, and someone I can be with in the open. It will just be better that way…and surely, the agony of even imagining that will fade with time.
“We got Phoenix,” a deep voice jolts me from my internal reckoning. In a rush, I spin toward Emerson, who’s leaning against the same glass case I am, but instead of looking down at the collars I’m currently imagining his son wearing, he’s staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m about to close the Phoenix deal. I need you to sit in on the call with me.”
I should be more excited about this, but even work has felt menial and bleak lately.
“Um, yeah. That’s amazing. Sure,” I stammer.
He stares at me for a moment, his brow furrowing, and I know Emerson well enough to know that means he’s about to bring up something important.
“Maggie, this might sound forward, but…”
My temperature rises instantly, and I feel myself start to panic before he even gets the rest of his question out.
“I’d like you to consider running it.”
Wait. What?
My mouth falls open as I stare at him dumbfounded.
“I know. It’s a big decision, and you just bought that house, but it could be something temporary until we find someone more suitable to manage it, and then we can handle the ownership remotely. But with Garrett on the mend and Hunter, Drake, and Isabel expecting…”
“You want me to move to Phoenix?”
“It’s just an idea. Like I said, something temporary.”
“Because I don’t have a spouse or child, you mean. So it would just be easier for me.” There’s a hint of hostility in my tone and he picks up on it immediately.
“Because you’re a smart business woman,” he replies.
“Businessowner,” I snap back, and he looks offended. I wish I could take it back, and I hate how defensive I feel, but the smallest mention of moving has me in fight or flight mode. And, apparently, I already have my punching gloves on.
If I leave Briar Point, I have to leave Beau. I know we’re not built for forever, but I’m not ready to stamp an expiration date on us just yet.
“Did I do something wrong?” Emerson asks with concern written all over his face.
I let out a huff and squeeze my eyes shut. “No. I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t know.”
