Desired and Dominated (13 page)

I called and left a message for Sofia, but she’s either ignoring it, or she hasn’t gotten it yet. I don’t want to bother her, so I haven’t tried to call back, but I need to know that she’s okay. I don’t have the right to know, but I love her, and the thought of her dealing with this, is painful.

I left the restaurant and came to my office, but I haven’t been able to concentrate. I haven’t heard any news from Brandon yet, but I’m hoping that’s a good thing. I hate feeling helpless. I wish there was something I could do to help my friends, to help Sofia.

When my phone beeps, I grab it like it’s my lifeline. It’s her.

Sofia: My plane just landed. Going to the hospital now. Brandon will call with news. Please don’t call me again.

Me: I’m so sorry. If there is anything you need. I’m here.

Sofia: You don’t get to be that guy for me. You made your choice. Don’t call me, don’t text me.

I stare at my phone for the longest time. Devastated by her words. Horrified that I’ve made this situation even harder on her.

It’s late by the time I hear from Brandon. Jess is going to pull through. Simon is holding it together by a thread, and now, he’s a daddy. Sofia is an aunt. I’m so relieved for all of them. I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying today must have been.

I’m on the outside, looking in, and I don’t know if they will ever forgive me; if they will ever let me be there for them; if
she
will ever let me be a part of her life again.

Eight Months Later

I miss him.

Every minute of every day, since I walked out of his apartment, since he broke my heart into a thousand shattered pieces, I miss him. I miss the little things. His voice on the phone, low and sexy with a rasp that would melt even the coldest heart. His sweet text messages to say he was thinking of me, or to check that I’d arrived in the next city on tour safely. I miss the way he looked at me, as if I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. And, most of all, I miss his touch. I never had that much time to be with him, and we never made love, but in every way that mattered, he made love to me; with every touch of his hand, with his kiss, devouring me, claiming me as his, ruining me for any other man. I lie awake at night, remembering his smile, and the dimples that could disintegrate any woman’s panties. Everything about him haunts me, and it’s impossible for me to move on. It’s been almost nine months since he ended things between us, and I just can’t let go: I can’t stop loving him.

Logically, I can understand why he did what he did. He knows how much Simon means to me, and he didn’t want to come between us. I hate him and love him in equal measure for his decision. He was trying to do what he thought was best for me, and it took me a long time to forgive him for that, and even longer to realize that he did it from a place of caring for me, rather than a lack of it. There’s also a part of me, that will never understand or forgive the fact that he gave me no option but to walk away. He didn’t care if I wanted to choose him over family, if I thought he was worth the risk. If he’d taken even a moment to consider that, and ask me what I wanted, I would have told him, without hesitation that I chose him. Even now, I would choose him.

Simon and I have managed to find our way back to the close relationship we shared before all of this happened. It took me months to get over the fact that he is the reason Nate and I aren’t together. For the first month I wouldn’t even speak to him, but slowly, we started talking again, and he apologized for causing me so much pain. I don’t think he really understood what his reaction would do that night. It was a shock, and he handled it badly. When he finally admitted that to me, my heart thawed, and little by little I felt like I got my brother back.

These days, on the rare occasions when I’m in New York, I try to spend as much time as possible with him and Jess, and little V. She’s the light in the darkness for me. An innocent blessing, who gives unconditional love and expects nothing in return. She gives me hope for the future, that maybe, someday, it won’t hurt as much; that maybe I won’t love him as much, and at some point, I might find someone to love me the same way I love them.

Love unrequited, is life’s cruelest form of torture.

It’s tough to hear Lily and Jess mention Nate. They don’t mean to upset me, and I hide it as best I can, but hearing about what he’s doing, where he is, and how him and Simon are back to being the best of friends, is difficult for me.

I spoke to Simon about it a few months ago, pleading with him not to throw away his relationship with Nate over something as trivial as a few stolen kisses. I played it down, telling him that it was a fleeting attraction on my part, and how I would hate for it to ruin a great friendship. Eventually, he listened, but not before giving Nate a black eye, and coming home with a few bruised ribs. When Jess called me to tell me that they had sorted it out like cavemen, all I wanted to do was go to Nate’s apartment. To kiss his eye, and tell him how much I love him. Instead, I punched Si in the face, which did nothing, it didn’t even leave a mark, and it didn’t make me feel any better.

I’m happy that they’re friends again, but it’s almost as if what I had with Nate, never happened. There is no evidence that we were ever together, that we ever meant anything to one another. The only way I know I didn’t dream it, is the invisible scars I carry with me; the gaping hole in my heart that tells me it was real, that it mattered, if only to me.

A month ago, I tried to get back on the horse as they say, but I couldn’t do it. I sat across from a very handsome gentlemen, strong and sexy, commanding and considerate, but I felt…nothing. No butterflies, no excitement at the prospect of something new…nothing. I hate to admit it, but I think Nate might have been right; if he had made love to me, like I begged him to, I would never recover. I’m lost and ruined by the memory of his tongue and his lips all over my body. To have felt him inside me, to be completely possessed by him, would have killed me.

I want to hate him so badly, to be consumed by rage until it obliterates all trace of the love I feel. And more than anything, I hate myself – for knowing that I would run into his arms tomorrow if he turned up at my door and told me he wanted me. How pathetic does that make me? The weak girl that forgives a man for breaking her heart, over and over again, and welcomes him back with open arms; always surprised when he does it again.

I guess the question is moot. Nate’s not coming back for me, and I need to come to terms with that…one day…I hope.

Three Months Later

I’m working on the biggest deal of my career right now. The band I’m bringing over from Scotland, Flaming Embers, are about to cut their first record and go on tour around the U.S. It’s a huge find for my label, and if I pull this off, it is going to mean big things for my company, and for the bands that I represent.

I've been in and out of the country over the past few months, never staying in one place too long, setting up the tour, meeting with promoters, finding support acts, and getting the boys in as a support act for some of the hottest names in music at the moment. In some ways it has been a good distraction, but being on the road doesn’t really afford me the freedom to indulge in my…particular pleasures. I know a few BDSM clubs in the bigger cities I visit on a regular basis, and have taken to giving demonstrations on some very lovely subs in training. It lacks the satisfaction I used to gain from my lifestyle, but it’s all I can bear. I haven’t taken on a new submissive to train in the twelve months since Sofia walked out of my life. The thought of being a Master to anyone but her just doesn’t sit well with me. I tolerated it in the past, knowing that none of them could live up to the fantasy I had of her, but now that I know what I’m missing, it’s incomprehensible to me to claim any other woman as my own.

I deal with my physical needs and my urge to dominate by conducting master classes, and teaching others to be Dominants, using faceless submissives in cities that aren’t my own. It’s a fleeting pleasure, a moment of relief from the blackness that burdens my soul. A quick release to quench my carnal desire, leaving me empty and alone, craving a real connection to another human being, to feel that I’m not alone in this world.

If I had the chance to go back and change that night in Verona, to stop everything that ever happened with Sofia Mantovani…I couldn’t. I know it would be easier if it never happened; if I had never felt the sheer euphoria of her falling apart beneath me; but I would
never
trade that night for anything,
ever
. I wouldn’t trade a single second of our time together. The torture, night after night, when I lie awake, reliving every second with her, is worth it. It’s the only way I know that I still have the ability to feel; to love; that I still have a soul.

My world is black and gray; she is the glorious splash of crimson that makes the rest of my dull existence worthwhile.

As I load my bags into the cab idling at the curb outside my building, I’m happy to be getting out of New York for a few days. I’m heading to Edinburgh to bring the band to the States. Their Visa applications have been approved, and I have an apartment set up for them here in Manhattan, in one of Brandon’s many buildings. I could only afford to get them the smallest place, but it’s in a great location, and like everything that Brandon does in business, it’s sleek, elegant and cutting edge. They’re going to love it.

I can feel myself relax as we pull into traffic, heading over the bridge, and out of Manhattan. My home has become oppressive of late, and I’m eager to get some distance. I’m also mildly excited to visit a great BDSM club in the Scottish capital city. Steeped in history with a dark underbelly; Edinburgh is an exciting place to be, long after the tourists have gone to bed. I’ve made plans to meet an associate of mine and give a demonstration to a small group of Dominants who are training as Masters. I’m told that there are a number of new submissives who are desperate to be my subject, and anything else that I might want them for afterwards. Sounds like exactly what I need right now. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel anything other than indifference.

When the driver pulls up outside La Guardia, I’m excited, and as I grab my case and head inside to check in, I’m feeling optimistic for the first time in months. The queue is non-existent and the stewardess takes her time checking me in, flirting outrageously with me. I indulge her; flash her my killer smile, dart my tongue out to wet my lip, and watch as her gaze travels to my mouth; her pupils dilating; her nipples becoming tight under her blouse, on display through the thin white silk. I had almost forgotten how much I love the effect I have on women, and I can’t help but enjoy it just a little.