Chapter 6
Leah
Dmitri must be a human space heater, because I wake up sweating. It’s fully dark, and the bedroom is quiet. I slide out from under Dmitri’s heavy arm. His T-shirt lies at the foot of the bed where he tossed it. I tug it on so I’m not completely naked as I go to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Moonlight illuminates my path through the cabin. All is quiet save for the ticking grandfather clock at the end of the hall. I make my way downstairs, skipping the third and fifth steps, which creak.
In the kitchen, I get my water. I splash a little on my face to cool my heated skin. I’m wide awake. Maybe I can wake up Dmitri with a blowjob and we can have some more fun. He’s great at exhausting my energy. A tendril of lust unfurls in my lower belly.
On my way out of the kitchen, a glint on the kitchen counter catches my attention. It’s my phone, resting next to Dmitri’s. He hasn’t let me look at it more than once today, and that was only because one of my students texted to reschedule their meeting.
I reach out to grab my phone, then let my arm fall.
I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t. There’s a reason he dragged me here to the cabin.
I pause, staring at the innocuous device. How bad could it be?
Oh, fuck it. I won’t be able to sleep unless I look. I’ll only check VideYou to make sure Nicola hasn’t posted anything. I won’t do a search for my own name, or read the comments, or anything like that. Dmitri doesn’t even have to know I looked.
Nicola Johnson has a new post. It pops right up at the top of my feed—I don’t even have to search for it. The algorithm certainly knows where my obsessions lie.
In this video, Nicola looks a lot more put together than she did in the last one.
She’s gorgeous, as always. Sophisticated.
Glamorous. She’s wearing an evening gown, champagne-colored silk with a plunging neckline.
She puts on make-up while she talks. “You know, when someone promises you forever and you have that bond, you don’t mind looking stupid.
You know it’ll work out in the end. Obstacles happen.
They’re just bumps in the road. Some people are calling me psychotic for even entertaining his apologies.
I don’t think there’s anything psychotic about fate.
He wants to apologize, so I’m listening.
We’re strong together, and we can overcome this obstacle to our relationship. ”
Bullshit. There is no way Gage is still dating her. I would’ve known. I’m not the other woman.
Disgusted, I’m about to put my phone down when the top-rated comment on her post catches my eye. Leah’s trash. But why are you even bothering with Gage? Don’t you remember what he did to you ?
The comment includes a link.
What did he do to her? Probably nothing.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I click the link. It goes to an article on Errant , one of the more thoughtful and classy celebrity magazines.
Gage Hawthorn’s Secret, Sadistic Side
I snort. I thought this was a classier magazine, but this title doesn’t speak to their reputation.
It has only been four days since news of Gage Hawthorn’s sex tape rocked Hollywood. In that time, a series of truths have come out. It isn’t enough for him to humiliate his lovers in the bedroom; he must also humiliate them outside of it.
“‘Loyalty’ isn’t a word Gage knows,” an anonymous source supplies.
They don’t know him. They published garbage to get more clicks. I scan the article.
“He told me my body is power, and then he—he stripped that power away.”
I gasp. My body is power . Gage said those very words to me. My heart cracks. I thought I was unique…but maybe not.
“He likes to hurt girls. I was in pain and the whole time, he was smiling.”
That happened too, but I liked it.
“He made me think I’m the only one, but there were dozens more. None of us knew about each other.”
The sex tape is only the beginning. No one can forget the first image of the woman standing naked on a desk. Meanwhile, Hawthorne stands in the background, demeaning her.
No. I shake my head. My stomach is churning, a writhing mass of jumbled words inside, shaking around. He put me on his desk at Low Vice. He had me touch myself.
But the rough interlude that followed depicted the dark leanings of a depraved mind. The victim in the video was his former girlfriend and Academy of Ghosts costar, Nicola Johnson. She wept and pleaded while he ignored every one of her entreaties.
If any actor should be banned from Hollywood, it’s Gage Hawthorne.
I hate this. I hate everything I’m reading. It can’t be true. What did he say to me? You aren’t going to like what you see if you search my name . He must have known I would find articles like this.
At the bottom of the article is a still-frame from a video. Everything sensitive is blacked out and blurred, but it’s obvious that two people are having sex. Gage’s face is visible, along with a welt on the woman’s torso. She’s wrapped in rope, as well.
Her eyes and nose are blacked out, but not the pain-filled twist of her mouth or the tears streaking down her face.
And Gage? He looks fiendish, like every tear she cries is fuel for his lust.
A sob escapes my throat. I bite my knuckles, trying to hold in the pain.
You aren’t going to like what you see if you search my name .
I should have listened. But now I know.
* * *
Dmitri
I don’t know what wakes me up. The room is quiet. Instinctively, I reach for Leah.
My hand meets with cool sheets instead of her warm, curvy body.
Something isn’t right.
The bathroom door is cracked open, no light or noise coming from there. I get out of bed and slide on my boxers. My shirt isn’t where I left it. I bet Leah put it on. There’s nothing I love more than seeing her in my clothes.
“Leah?”
No answer. Nothing strikes me as ominous. But a sliver of unease has wormed its way into my gut. When I’m at Low Vice, this is the feeling I get when a “Dom” is actually an abuser. It’s the feeling I get when a scene is about to go sideways and we have to intervene.
It means something isn’t right.
I hurry down the stairs. “Leah? Where are you?”
“In here.”
She’s in the kitchen. Her voice sounds tight, garbled. Is she fucking choking?
I run. I skid into the kitchen, breathing heavily.
She looks up from one of the bar-style seats at the kitchen island. Moonlight reflects off the tear tracks on her cheeks. She holds up a hand. “Dmitri, I’m okay.”
“No the fuck you aren’t.” I stride forward and wrap my arms around her. “What happened? Was I too rough last night?”
I took her from behind, choking her while ramming her pussy, hard and messy. Maybe it was too much, because afterward she joked that I “fucked her brains out.”
“No, no, that was fine. Better than fine.” She starts to laugh, but it comes out like a sob.
She feels so fragile and small in my arms. My large T-shirt draping over her slender shoulders makes her look even smaller. I rub her bare arms, trying to bring heat to her chilled skin.
“If it wasn’t the rough sex, then what is it—” My words break off when I see her phone on the counter in front of her. “Leah. What the fuck did you do?”
“I was an idiot.” She nudges the phone away from her, like it smells bad.
I can’t be mad at her for using her phone—whatever she found, it messed her up. “Did she say more shit about you?”
“Nothing new. I…fuck, Dmitri, I fucked up.”
I tug her closer, hold her as tight as I can while she’s sitting on the barstool. What has her messed up like this? She shivers against me. “Baby, tell me.”
“I clicked a link about Gage, and…” She purses her lips together.
If she can’t say it, I know what she found. “You saw the tape.”
“I read about it, saw a couple of pictures.”
“You know it happened a long time ago.” I do some math. “Fifteen years.”
“Yeah. I know. But some of them? Those details? They’re the same, Dmitri. The things he did, they were—fuck.” She scrubs her fists over her eyes. “It’s so fucked up.”
“Did he ever hurt you?” I tilt her face so she has to look at me. In the dark kitchen, her blue eyes look black. “Did he not get your consent? Did he ignore your safe words?”
“No, none of that. I’m talking about before, with her.”
“Leah.” I wish the lights were on so I could see her face better. “We should be talking about now , not then .”
“I know. Just, the scenes, they’re so similar. And I saw a picture, and he looks so mean .” She sucks in a breath, sobs again. “Like torturing Nicola made him happy .”
I continue rubbing her arms, her back. Soothing movements that are probably doing as much to reassure me as her.
Eventually, her breathing evens out. She snuggles against my chest.
“Are you falling asleep?” I whisper.
“No, just thinking. I have never, ever felt unsafe with Gage.”
I nod and make an mmm sound. This is the point I was trying to get across.
“He can be manipulative.” She nods, like she’s figuring it all out as she talks. “He’s definitely sadistic in some ways.”
I make another sound of agreement.
“You knew about the rumors, right? The old scandal?”
“Yeah.” I’m not proud of it, but I looked him up when I learned he was part owner of Low Vice. “He has a reputation. It made me distrustful at first, but he’s stricter about the rules than Margot. And I’ve never seen him hurt anyone, or heard of it happening at the club.”
She tilts her head back to look at my face. “You would’ve dragged me away from him if you thought he would hurt me.”
“Fuck yeah I would have.”
“I thought so.” She yawns.
“Tired?”
“Yeah.”
I heft her up into my arms. “Let’s get you back to bed, little girl.”
“I can walk, Dmitri.” She pouts.
I gaze down at her sleepy face, fondness washing through me. “But wouldn’t you rather be carried?”
“Mmm, yeah. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I pretend I’m about to drop her.
“Dmitri!” She shrieks, laughing. “Don’t you dare fucking drop me.”
“I won’t.” Serious now, I hold her more tightly as I take the stairs to the bedroom. “I’m not letting you go, baby girl.”
Once Leah’s in bed, I curl my body around hers, letting her feel my protection. After I’m sure she’s asleep, I get up. Gage needs to know what the fuck is going on, what he’s up against. If I were in his shoes, I’d want to know. I take my phone and steal outside to the back deck.
Even though it’s the middle of the night, Gage answers on the first ring. “How is she?”
I pace the deck. The lake beyond is inky black, hidden from the moon’s light. “Shitty. It keeps getting worse and worse.”
“Has Nic posted something else?”
“I don’t know. But Leah was obsessing over things and clicked a link, I guess.”
“Fuck.”
I’ve never heard Gage swear. The word holds extra weight, sitting on the line between us.
“Is she ever going to talk to me?” His voice is gruff, but I can hear a thread of vulnerability.
I actually feel sorry for the asshole. “Yeah. I calmed her down. It didn’t take much. She knows that’s not who you are. But.”
Gage sighs. “But?”
“Well, she said a lot of it was similar to what you’ve done with her, so that might need some damage control.”
“The desk,” he says flatly.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” He doesn’t need to rub it in my face, the things they’ve done without me.
He chuckles. “Yeah, you do want to know. We’ll show you sometime. You’d like it.”
I ignore the taunt. “Is there anything you want me to say to her?”
“Yes.” He pauses. I imagine he’s sitting in some posh chair in a window overlooking the city, a glass of whiskey swirling in his hand.
“I want her to know that I would never hurt her. I never would’ve hurt Nicola, either.
The things Nic and I did…we were babies in the lifestyle.
Neither of us knew what we were doing. But as the Dom, I should’ve been more careful. I’ve carried that guilt with me since.”
He sounds so dull and regretful, I need to lighten the moment. “Hang on, my hand is cramping from writing all that down.”
His huff of amusement is loud. “Have you been taking brat lessons from Leah?”
“If I start calling you old man, you need to worry.” I stare out at the void of the lake. Who am I to give this guy advice? But I have something he needs to hear. “In all seriousness, you don’t need to keep carrying that guilt.”
He makes a noncommittal sound.
“I mean it.” An owl hoots, mournful and eerie, reminding me to keep my voice down so I don’t wake Leah. “I don’t judge you for what happened all that time ago.”
“You used to.”
“I did. But I know better now. And I know this shit isn’t always that simple.” You're a monster, Dmitri. If I am, so are you. It's in your blood. “I have regrets, too.”
Urges. Fear that I’ll indulge those urges and hurt someone I care about.
Gage’s voice is as even and constant as the placid surface of the lake. “Your regrets? I hope you don’t hold onto them as long as I’ve held onto mine.”