Chapter 19
FLIGHT TO POLANCO
Sliding into the leather seat beside Adria, Elena said, “Tell me about pops.”
Adria shook her head, a soft smile on her face. At first Elena was a little intense. But the more time she spent with her, the more Adria appreciated her filter, or lack thereof.
Elena was a strong, confident woman, and Adria could tell she never considered that a weakness. In truth, their escape would not have been possible without her.
Bryson’s sister was putting her life and her family’s life on the line to help them.
“I can tell you he doesn’t like being called pops,” Adria said.
“Would daddy be better?” Elena asked, her face wicked.
Adria broke out into a belly laugh. It was probably the first time she had laughed in months.
Tears welled in her eyes.
“What?” Elena said. “He works for a professional Domme, am I supposed to believe he isn’t kinky?”
Adria dried her tears. “He has some proclivities, but I’ll let him share if he wants to.”
“Does he date?” Elena asked.
“Are you and Sota open?” Adria asked.
Elena fidgeted, before leaning in conspiratorially. “We are best friends. But we aren’t romantically involved.”
Adria nodded, frowning. “That must be so hard.”
To be married to such a prominent mafia family, most men would be terrified to be with her. No matter what the truth was.
Eric was the one person Adria could think of who wouldn’t be scared of Sota. Too bad Adria didn’t think Elena was his type.
Physically, she didn’t fit the traditional curvy, large-breasted women Eric normally went for, but there was more to it. Years in Kink had afforded Adria a radar of sorts. She could tell if a person swayed Dominant, switchy or submissive.
And Elena radiated Domme.
Eric’s play preferences required submissives who yielded completely—putty in his hands. Basically, the opposite of Elena. It wasn’t a matter of strength; plenty of strong women leaned submissive. Adria just suspected Elena wasn’t one of them.
Adria contemplated telling Elena as Eric approached.
“Bryson needs to have his dressing changed. I thought maybe you could,” Eric said.
This time, Adria noticed Elena fixing Eric with bedroom eyes.
Shit, she would definitely need to tell her. But then again, people change and find partners in the strangest of places. Who was Adria to tell Elena not to try?
“Of course,” Adria said, grabbing the supplies from him.
She ignored the twisting in her gut and the nerves that crept up her spine. She and Bryson hadn’t spoken since their time in the safe house, and since then things had been…cold. Uncomfortable.
Adria squared her shoulders, ignoring the cold sweat breaking out on her back, and took a long breath.
She was Adria Federov.
She could be in the same room as Bryson Winters.
The bathroom wasn’t large by most standards, but for a plane it was huge. Another perk of flying private.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the bench in the shower.
Bryson winced as he took off his shirt. Adria watched as he peeled off the large bandage revealing his torso.
She had to press her hand into the wall to remain upright. His entire body was covered in marks. Bruises, cuts and what looked like electrical burns.
She forced herself to get the antiseptic from Eric’s bag. Saturating the gauze, her hands shook as she approached him. Maybe Eric would have been better suited for this.
Bryson looked away as she approached, and she felt him tense at her touch.
“How is the pain?” she asked, desperately trying to make small talk.
“It’s okay,” he said.
Great. So now he was not looking at her and lying to her.
Dabbing around the dried blood, she checked the stitches the doctor had put in. They seemed to be holding well.
“I need a shower,” Bryson said.
“I can wait to put the bandage back on until after you clean up,” she said.
He nodded and bent to take off his shoes, wincing in pain again.
“Let me,” she said.
He hesitated but reluctantly let her.
She started to untie his shoes. Why did it feel so cold between them?
Because you sold them to a psychopath.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and her hands started to shake. Kaydon had marks on his arms, and she hadn’t gotten to fully inspect Seth.
Bryson, from what she could see, had been dangerously close to death.
And all that was just the physical. What other hurts lurked under their skin?
What else had she been too late to stop?
Her vision was too blurry to untie the damn shoes, and suddenly there was a hand on hers. Steadying her tremor.
“I got it Dri, A little pain hasn’t killed me yet.”
That was it. The flood gates opened. Tears fell freely from her face, and sobs racked up from her throat.
Bryson pulled her into an embrace.
“Adria, I am so sorry,” he said.
She knelt on the floor and allowed him to pull her in.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” she said, half sobbing into him.
He gripped her shoulders, pushing her to arm’s length, looking at her.
“What do you mean?” he said. “I have everything to be sorry for.”
Adria shook her head and sniffled. “None of this is your fault.”
He looked at her like she was insane. “Adria, all of this is my fault.”
“If I had just fought harder to keep you, or gone to the Triune,” she trailed off.
“If I had just told my father to back off, instead of coming up with a plan to get him out of my life,” he said.
He was back on that land deal. Adria thought they had settled this.
“But then we would have never gotten to know each other,” she said.
“And if you didn’t sell us, I never would have gotten the pleasure of killing Jonathan,” he said.
“You wouldn’t have wanted to,” she whispered.
His autumn eyes pinned her in place. “I would have wanted to. Even if I hated you, some part of me, no matter how buried, no matter how hidden, would have known the truth. That he hurt a person I cared about.”
Adria froze at his words.
“Adria, if you hadn’t bought me that day, I would have spent the rest of my life with a giant hole in my chest, never understanding why,” he said.
His hand cupped her face, and a calm fell over her.
Feeling stronger, she helped him remove the rest of his shoes and clothing and brought the shower to a comfortable temperature.
When Bryson stood, he swayed, still unsteady on his feet.
Adria removed her shirt.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Joining you,” she said, pulling her pants down. “You’re not going to injure yourself on my watch. I’m on thin ice with El as it is.”
His lips moved into a half smile. “She has grown quite protective of me.”
The warm water sprayed against her face, and she brought Bryson’s arm around her and guided him under the stream. Adria watched as he sagged under the spray, allowing himself to relax alongside her.
She followed the marks and tallied each one.
“I wish we could bring him back so I could kill him,” she said.
“Jonathan?”
“Regan. I could kill him a thousand times for marking you like this,” she said and felt Bryson tense under her.
He looked at her, and she could sense that he wanted to say something.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she said.
The water clung to the edge of his eyelashes, and his eyes were unfocused, like he was reliving a memory.
“Let me rephrase,” she said, her tone carrying an edge. “Someday, maybe not today, but someday, you will tell me about every mark. Not because you want to, but because you need to. Trust me.”
“Are you going to tell me about yours?” he said, pulling her in close.
No.
That was what she would have said, even just a few months ago. But now, as she looked into his eyes, she felt like there was a changing of the seasons. It was time to let her old life die away. To make room for a new one.
She nodded and whispered, “Yes, but not today.”
The pain she felt saying those words mingled with fear and relief and settled around her as one simple truth.
Safe.
She was safe with Bryson.
With all three of them.
It was a safety she had never felt before.
“Can I ask you one thing?” Bryson said, resting his forehead against hers.
“Anything.” And Adria was surprised how much she meant the word.
“Why didn’t you kill him?”
She closed her eyes, remembering how it felt cutting Jonathan’s flesh. The pulling sensation his skin gave when she tore through it with a less-than-sharp knife. The cries that she pulled from his lips and the pleas she ignored.
“I didn’t want him to die,” she said.
And from some dark corner of her soul, Adria spoke the words that she never thought she would utter out loud.
But she knew she could.
Because this was Bryson, and Adria was certain that not only would he understand, but no matter her reasoning, he would never judge her.
“In that moment, I didn’t want to stop hurting him. I wanted him to be in pain for eternity. To keep him from peace and rest. Even if it meant I would never be happy.”
Adria remembered it like it was happening right in front of her. Like a movie she could replay, every detail, sound, and smell surrounded her.
“Standing over him, his pain was all I wanted, and I didn’t think I would ever want anything ever again.”
She paused, finding his eyes.
“Until I saw you.”