Chapter 58
Genevieve
Padding into the dark hallway, the hardwood is cool beneath my bare feet before it gives way to a plush runner. The closer I get to the double doors at the end of the corridor, the harder my pulse hammers in my chest.
By the time I finally reach the suite, I swear my heart will combust. Not bothering to knock, I curl my fingers around the silver-finished door handle and pull the door open.
The room is unlit, and slipping inside is like stepping into a mouth of shadows. I just barely make out Ford’s muscular form lying on the bed, the whites of his eyes seeming to glow like a beacon of safety.
Summoning a little courage, I ask, “Could I stay with you?”
I’m met with the sound of fabric rustling. “Always.”
My breathing hitches, my stomach fluttering as I make my way toward the bed, praying I don’t bruise my shin on anything in the process.
When I climb into bed, I find the spot warm, smelling of Ford.
He pulls the blankets over me before dragging me closer to him, our bodies slotted together like pieces of a puzzle.
He wraps his arms around me, and I nestle into the embrace, a sense of calm washing over me. I realize with a mental jolt that there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than curled up with my husband, his strong body shielding me from any predators, even those in my own mind.
“I used to lay awake at night, listening to the guys in my unit snore in the other bunks, wondering what you’d feel like in my arms, your body next to mine.
I’ve spent hours imagining it. Even though we never met up back then, I never stopped thinking about it.
” His voice is husky yet reverent, like a man experiencing a wish coming true.
“Is it everything you thought it would be?”
Swallowing hard, I brace myself for the answer, melting when he replies simply, “It’s better.”
I’m not ready to admit it, but I used to dream about this, too.
What it would be like to come home to him, shoveling bites of cake into our mouths during movie marathons or wandering around the city together.
I clung to the fantasy of propping my feet in his lap while we talked late into the night, laughing together as we swapped stories.
He was the person I fell asleep and woke each day thinking about.
Instead of divulging that, I ask, “What did you do that night?”
There’s no need to explain which night I’m referring to. He knows.
“I waited there for two hours before I could accept that you weren’t coming.
I avoided checking my inbox because I didn’t want to see what was there for me, but when I saw your message, I decided to re-enlist. I hadn’t planned on doing that, but I wanted to be as far away from this city as possible. ”
He’d never been anything other than honest back then, so I assumed he’d gone to that park and sat on a bench, holding his breath. The more I imagined him lingering for hours, the more it stabbed me in the chest. The picture he paints with his words now is worse than what I envisioned.
My choice to leave hurt him; I knew it then and I know it now, but it hurt me, too.
What I needed warred with what I wanted, but necessity won out.
Looking back, I wouldn’t change the decision I made.
I had to leave, had to protect myself. And it’s not like I could explain myself then, but I can now.
I unlocked the door to this conversation, so I’m not surprised when he steps through it, his voice gravelly but tentative, as if he doesn’t want to push me farther than I’m willing to go. “What happened that night? Why didn’t you show?”
I take a deep breath and let it out before rolling over to face him. Telling this story to the shadows of the dark room would be cowardly, even if that’s precisely what I want to do. He deserves better than that.
“I had a pimp, Leo, who was an abusive fuck. When he first set me up with a new client, I thought things might be changing for me. I didn’t have many regular clients who I particularly liked.
Henry Fisher was the only one, really. I liked Grady Blandon, though.
We got along, and I started enjoying our sessions, looked forward to them. ”
He reaches up, his hand brushing the side of my face as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is this the same Grady Blandon who was the Speaker of the House?”
“That’s the one,” I answer solemnly. “While I was a switch, I didn’t have any clients who I truly submitted with.
I didn’t necessarily feel safe with any of them, but Grady took the time to establish trust with me.
He was different, so I felt comfortable giving him what he wanted, what we both wanted.
He molded me into the sub he desired, and I was stupid and na?ve enough to believe that he was my Dom.
Somehow, it made what he did so much worse. ”
A large lump forms in my throat when I think about this next part, and I have to force myself to swallow it down, even as my eyes begin to sting.
“About a week before we were supposed to meet, I showed up to Grady’s place for a session, only he wasn’t alone.
He…” I trail off as horrific snapshots cloud my brain, scrambling the words I’m about to speak.
It takes me a moment to find them again, and when I do, my voice is strained. “They hurt me.”
Thankfully, he remains quiet. He doesn’t offer empty platitudes or pitying remarks.
He simply waits for me to continue, but this next part isn’t nearly as difficult to talk about.
“I had to hide from Leo, but when he dragged me back to his office, I killed him. That was the night we were supposed to meet. I couldn’t stick around and risk being imprisoned for murder or have anyone else caught up in what I’d done.
That night, I boarded a flight to Amsterdam. ”
Ford’s hand drifts to the swell of my hip, his grip firm, reassuring.
“Leo was bad, but Grady was worse, an evil wolf in sheep’s clothing. He broke me, fractured my spirit, and forced me to birth a new version of myself.”
“There’s not a version of you that I don’t like.”
My heart flutters as I take in the sincere look in his eye. Smiling softly, I lean forward, brushing my lips against his. “Well, now you know why the woman you know today has difficulty accepting help and an even harder time trusting others.”
That night with Grady hardened me, taught me lessons about trust that I wish I’d never had to learn.
“I understand.” He lifts a hand, fingers tangling in the back of my hair. “It’s kept you safe,” he observes, voice low and gentle.
“Yes, but it also closes me off.”
“When you’re ready to let me in, I’ll be here.” He moves his other hand from my hip to hover over my heart, my pulse seeming to fly at the speed of light. “But until then, you should be careful wearing these skimpy little pajamas around me. It makes it hard to be a gentleman.”
I giggle, shoving at his chest playfully, grateful for his levity. “You finger-fucked me in the bathroom tonight. You’re far from a gentleman.”
The husky sound of his chuckle vibrates through the room. His palm trails a caress from my chest and around my waist to the globe of my ass, squeezing roughly. “There’s no one to blame but yourself. You bring out a darker side of me.”
Silence crackles between us for several moments, his hand moving to the small of my back as he continues to stroke my hair. I feel safe, deeply cared for, and it’s such a strange, foreign concept.
“And what happened with Grady? Did you kill him, too?” he questions eventually.
“Once I returned from Amsterdam, I spent two years building an impressive client list, and I suppose I have Henry to thank for a lot of those connections. When I’d firmly established myself, and people began to recognize Madam Allison as someone powerful and noteworthy, I started recruiting other sex workers to work for me.
We operated out of hotels and apartments until I had enough money to buy my building and turn it into what it is now.
“After I had the notoriety, I knew it was only a matter of time before Grady sought out Allison. From there, it was as easy as collecting the men as if they were rabid dogs that I kept in my basement. Then, I…disposed of them.”
He doesn’t need to know the details; those are mine, and mine alone, to relive.
The smell of their deaths and the sight of their blood soothing me to sleep, their sweet cries echoing in my favorite dreams. The revenge was thoroughly satisfying, but it had nothing on the liberation that accompanied it.
After another few beats, I inquire, “Does it bother you that I’ve killed people? There have been more than just those five men.” Far more.
“I’m not the only one in bed with a murderer, Genevieve. Does that bother you?”
“Ford,” I whisper. “That’s different; your kills are sanctioned by the government.”
“Funny, Drake tells me the same thing.” He doesn’t act like it’s humorous at all, though, falling quiet before explaining, “You know, in some circles of society, your kills would be sanctioned, too.”
I smile, unable to stop myself. I take great pride in ridding the world of people like Grady Blandon and Leo.
“Do you think we would’ve worked if we’d have met at the park like we’d planned?” I ponder aloud, changing the subject.
It’s something I’ve given a lot of thought to over the years. I like to think that we’d have lived a long and happy life together, existing in a world where Grady never hurt me and I escaped Leo’s brutal hands. I like to think we could’ve been a perfect match.
He doesn’t answer me; he simply cups my cheek before pressing his lips to mine in a kiss that I feel throughout my entire body.