Chapter 18 #2
Running her hands unconsciously over the screenplay laying in her lap, Ruthi sighed.
Her Mistress was everything she had ever wanted.
“Total trust,” Eve had told her. “Is the foundation of everything between a Domme and her submissive. Without that, we have nothing.” With not an ounce of doubt in her heart, Ruthi knew she trusted Eve.
Not only that, she also knew Eve was the person she could talk to about anything.
If Ruthi needed to bounce ideas off someone about a movie she was directing or get input on how to handle a thorny situation, Eve could be that woman for her.
Dominant, lover, friend, Ruthi thought and smiled, looking at the bright sky as a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a very long time settled over her.
Ruthi knew in her heart that Eve loved her, too.
Despite her career as a professional Dominant, one in which she had dominated many women, Eve didn’t have her own submissive.
The beautiful Domme kept her heart separate from her professional life.
But if Ruthie could be that woman for her—submissive, lover, friend—so they might build a life together, one in which dreams and yearnings came true, the Isle of Dreams would have fulfilled its purpose.
Taking a deep breath, Ruthi stood, screenplay in hand, and nodded decisively at the stars.
It was time.
There was one thing that Ruthi needed to do first, however. She needed to talk to Ms. Leighton immediately and find out the name of the person who wrote the amazing script.
Ms. Leighton had learned to recognize the rhythms of the island.
The subtle shift when something important was about to unfold.
She felt it now, a low hum threading through her as she waited in her sunlit office, the salt breeze stirring the gauzy curtains.
Ruthi Shay had requested a meeting, the kind of formal request that suggested gravity, or at least determination, and Ms. Leighton had found herself strangely curious.
Ruthi was not a woman who asked for anything she could take by force.
The fact that she asked at all instead of basically barging in meant something had changed.
When the knock finally came, it was brisk, almost impatient.
“Come in,” Ms. Leighton called, smoothing her features into her usual enigmatic calm.
Ruthi entered, a notebook clutched in her hand.
Her posture was taut, shoulders squared, but there was a glint in her eyes that Ms. Leighton hadn’t seen before.
Something almost raw, almost luminous. She closed the door behind her and strode forward, not hesitating until she stood before the desk.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Ruthi said, voice clipped, as if she were holding herself in check. “I’ll get right to it.” She placed the notebook on the desk, fingers lingering on the cover. “I need to know who wrote this script.”
Lifting a brow, Ms. Leighton folded her hands. “May I ask why?”
Ruthi’s jaw worked, and for a moment, she seemed to wrestle with the words.
“Because,” she finally said, “it might be the best script I’ve ever read.
And I’ve read dozens. Maybe a hundred. This—” She tapped the notebook, the gesture almost reverent.
“It’s honest. Unapologetic. It cut straight through me.
I haven’t felt like this about a project in years.
It’s… exciting. It scares me, actually.” She looked into Ms. Leighton’s eyes.
“And I want to direct it. No, I need to direct it. I’ll fight anyone who tries to take it from me. ”
Ms. Leighton allowed herself a small, approving smile. “That’s quite an endorsement, Ms. Shay. I’m glad it moved you.”
Huffing a laugh, Ruthi shook her head. “Moved me is an understatement. It made me want to be better. To create something that matters.”
For a moment, Ms. Leighton regarded Ruthi, then leaned back in her chair. “You’re sure you want to know?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing. “Sometimes, the magic is in the not-knowing. In the possibility.”
“I’m sure,” Ruthi said. “I need to know who I’ll be collaborating with. Whose vision I’ll be shepherding.”
Ms. Leighton inclined her head. “Very well.” She let the moment draw out, savoring the anticipation. “The writer is Kel Lehman.”
For a moment, Ruthi was utterly still, as if the words had short-circuited her. Then her mouth parted, eyes wide behind the sharp lines of her face. “Kel? Madeline’s assistant?”
With a glint of amusement in her eyes, Ms. Leighton nodded. “Kel is more than she appears. As are we all, I suppose.”
Letting out a low whistle, Ruthi shook her head in disbelief.
“She mentioned she was a screenwriter, and I knew she was sharp, but—God. This is… I didn’t see it coming.
” She looked down at the notebook, running a thumb along the edge.
“It’s all connected, isn’t it? The island.
The fantasies. Madeline’s second act. Kel’s voice.
Even me, finding something worth feeling again. ”
With an almost maternal sense of satisfaction, Ms. Leighton’s smile softened.
“That’s precisely the point of this place, Ruthi.
To give you what you truly need, even if you didn’t know you needed it.
Sometimes, that’s a second chance. Sometimes, it’s a story.
Sometimes, it’s permission to want more. ”
Ruthi’s eyes shone, but she didn’t look away. “I want this, Ms. Leighton. I want to direct it. I want to do it right.”
“That will be up to Kel, I think,” Ms. Leighton said. “But for the record, I think you’re the only one who would do it justice.” A beat passed, the room holding the weight of possibility. Then Ms. Leighton tilted her head. “And your own fantasy, Ruthi? Has the island delivered?”
The question clearly caught Ruthi off guard, but she didn’t shy from it.
She straightened, a small, real smile breaking through her usual reserve.
“I thought I was coming here to scratch an itch. To play at surrender. But it’s more than that.
Eve… she’s teaching me how to trust again.
How to let go.” She swallowed. “For the first time in a long time, I feel happy. I feel seen. I’m not sure I deserve it, but I want to try. ”
“That’s all any of us can do, Ruthi. Try. The island gives you the chance. The rest is up to you.”
Nodding, Ruthi held the script tightly in her hands. “Thank you. For everything.”
As Ruthi left, Ms. Leighton watched her go, a sense of quiet satisfaction blooming in her chest. The fantasies were working, the stories spinning out in ways she had only dared hope for. The island continued to do what it always did. Changing lives, one brave choice at a time.