The Dominator : a dark mafia romance

Chapter 11

Our suite was luxurious, with three bathrooms (a his, a hers, and another one), separate bedroom and dining slash sitting room, and we had a great view of the Bellagio fountains as well as the Vegas version of the Eiffel Tower.

Tommy left shortly after we arrived, telling me to stay in the room, to order room service if I wanted anything, and just relax for a few hours, but that he’d be back for dinner.

He had Nino and James staying in an attached room that was accessible from the sitting room, to be close in case I needed them. I was given strict orders to not answer the door, only to inform James or Nino if someone knocked on my door who they hadn’t already noticed. Tommy handed me a wad of cash to put in my wallet and told me to simply sign for everything and give out 25% for tips for room service and for if I have someone from the spa come up to give me a massage or manicure.

So, the three of us stayed in our rooms while everyone else in Las Vegas had fun and while Tommy was off doing whatever he was doing.

At 10:00 James knocked, then poked his head in, and asked me if I wanted some pizza. Evidently, they’d given up on having a break to have dinner, too. I accepted a few slices and watched a pay-per-view romantic comedy by myself. I gazed out the floor to ceiling windows and saw that it looked pretty awesome down below. The city looked alive and bustling with activity.

Eventually, I crawled into bed and turned the TV off hoping that tomorrow I’d get to see more of Vegas.

* * *

Tommy was gone until 3:07am. I’d been fast asleep in what might’ve been the most comfortable bed in the world when he came in. I spotted the time on the digital clock when woken up because he tripped and almost fell. He staggered a little, getting out of his clothes, and I could smell the alcohol coming off him from the bed. He’d been gone for about ten hours, never texted or called me, and was now staggering into bed, clearly drunk.

He got in beside me and his hand swept up my side from my hip to my ear and then his fingers were in my hair. He murmured something unintelligible against my ear, something about me being lucky, then something about the smell of my hair, and then he was softly snoring.

* * *

I woke up early in the morning, and when I lifted his clothes off the floor, I noticed red lipstick on his collar. My heart thundered in my chest. I lay them on the chair before slipping the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door handle so that housekeeping wouldn’t come in while he was still asleep.

At 11:00 I knocked on and then entered the adjoining room. The guys were dressed in suits but had their shoes off, both of them on their respective beds and watching a sports event on TV. I asked them what the plan was today and they’d both shrugged, telling me they were awaiting direction from Tommy and informing me the Do Not Disturb sign was useless; no one would be barging into the suite without their go-ahead.

James said he’d already ordered breakfast up to their room and asked if I wanted him to order for me. I told them I’d do it. Apparently, they had CCTV of the hall outside of our suite.

The room service didn’t take long. As I pushed the cart into the sitting and dining area, I heard noise in the bedroom so peeked in and Tommy stirred in bed and opened his eyes.

“I ordered breakfast for us,” I told him. “Not sure if you’re hungry.”

“Call down and ask them to send up some Tylenol, baby?”

“Already thought of that,” I said stiffly and passed him a glass of orange juice and the bottle of pills. He looked strangely at me, took two and downed some juice and then got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

I’d left his clothes purposely in a position near where I was now sitting, on the sofa that would make his lipstick-covered collar obvious, very obvious.

I poured coffee for both of us and when he came back out a few minutes later, he was showered and in a fresh pair of tight black boxer briefs. He reached onto the chair and fished his cell phone out of his pants pocket and was fiddling with it. I saw his eyes land on his dirty collar. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the minibar and downed it.

I stared at him over the rim of my cup, looking at his gorgeous body, his broad shoulders, sculpted chest, six pack, his muscular legs, and wondered if he’d let some other woman touch his body last night.

He glanced at me a few times while thumbing away on his phone and then said, “Got something to say?”

“Nope,” I answered, making direct eye contact.

“I’ve got a meeting soon. I think I’ll grab another hour of sleep first.”

“Okie dokie.” I had trouble hiding the snark from my reply.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Nothing happened. A business associate had entertainment for a post-meeting party, but nothing happened. A chick tried to get frisky with me and I pushed her off. All right?”

I’d been chewing the inside of my cheek. “Alrighty. You were pretty smashed.”

“Yeah, well I’d had about 5 hours of sleep in three days so the alcohol hit me hard. Nothing happened. Didn’t we just go over this yesterday? Do you really think I’d promise to be faithful and then break that promise the very same day?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t accuse you of anything.”

“No, but your attitude says different. Believe me, if I wanted to fuck someone else, I’d just go ahead and fuck someone. I’d have no qualms telling you the score. Alrighty?”

Each ‘fuck’ was delivered with so much venom it churned like acid in my stomach.

I raised my hands defensively. Really nice. His eyes were bulging at me; he looked furious. And rough. I kept my mouth shut for a minute while he continued doing something on his phone.

“So, do I have to stay here all day waiting for you?” I finally asked.

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

Then he stormed into James and Nino’s room, slamming the door. I sat and seethed. Some fun Vegas would be. I turned the television on and flopped on the sofa.

A while later the adjoining door was thrust open and Tommy came back in and when he caught my expression, which I imagine probably looked pissed off still, his lip curled and he slammed the door shut and locked it and then stalked in my direction and the look on his face and the way he walked had me suddenly holding my breath. He lifted me up by grabbing fists full of my bathrobe just below my shoulders.

Once we were almost nose to nose, my feet not touching the floor, he growled, “Lose the fucking attitude!”

My eyes must’ve been bulging out of my head. He let go of me and I landed on the floor right on my ass.

He stood there over me. I could hear him huffing. I was afraid to look up, so I buried my face in my hands and just stayed there on the floor.

A moment passed with me just sitting there and him just standing over me radiating anger.

Damn it. She was on the floor looking so small and afraid. Her beautiful, silky hair all messed up and hiding her face, her hands over her eyes, and just this white pool of terrycloth fabric surrounding her. I felt like the biggest asshole in the world right now. I was the biggest asshole in the world. I kept fucking this up. Why did I keep fucking this up?

Her shoulders started to shake a little and I knew she was crying. I got down in front of her on my knees and reached for her. She flinched.

“I’m sorry, Tia.” I pulled her to me.

She kept her arms around herself instead of putting them around me and I could hear that she was trying to mask crying. I sat down on the carpet and pulled her onto my lap and held her tight. “I’m a dick when I’m hung over. I’m sorry, baby.”

She stopped shaking and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her bathrobe. She looked up at me for a second and then looked away, pain on her face, her eyes red. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I tipped her chin up so she’d have no choice but to look at me and then I kissed her lips softly. “I have to go out for just a while today and then we’ll go do something, okay?” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

She shook her head, and her voice was timid, small. “I know you’re here on business, not to entertain me. Maybe you should’ve left me back at your place.” She still wasn’t looking me in the eye.

“Our place. And no, I want you here.” I let out a sigh and tucked her head under my chin and rocked her for a minute. Then I got up, taking her hand to lead her back to the sofa. I pulled her on top of me so that she was lying on me with her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her. She was so warm. My head was fucking pounding so hard.

“I need to close my eyes for a few minutes, Tia. Stay with me?”

She didn’t answer but she didn’t try to move away. I closed my eyes.

I could reach the remote on the coffee table, thankfully, and found something else to watch on TV once I heard his breathing even out. He had me on top of him and he was snoring. His arms were tight around me and I wasn’t going anywhere without waking him, so I just made myself comfortable and watched TV with my head on his chest until he woke up a little over two hours later to the sound of his cell phone ringing.

So much for breakfast. I tried not to think about what’d happened. I didn’t want to think about that temper and what it might mean for my life going forward. I didn’t want to think about it, so I just let it feel good to be in his arms. I let him comfort me with his arms around me, which was beyond bizarre because those same arms had lifted me up by my bathrobe a little while ago and were attached to a man who was hollering right in my face. I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of his heartbeat while I let myself get caught up in The Wizard of Oz. I’d never get sick of this movie. Ever.

He didn’t reach for the ringing phone, though. He ran his hands up and down under my robe, then gripping my rear end. Bile rose in my throat. Sex was the last thing on my mind right now. His phone started to ring again and at that same moment there was knocking on the adjoining door. We got to our feet. He grabbed his phone and I decided to go into the bathroom, get a shower, and get dressed.

I didn’t know what was on the menu for plans today, so I wore a pair of dressy cream-colored walking shorts, a frilly tan peasant blouse, and sandals. I put make-up on.

I couldn’t find my tweezers to clean up my eyebrows, which were looking a wee bit unruly, in my train case so I started to go through my purse, seeking the small make-up bag that Sarah had put together for me when we were in Mexico. I’d used it at the farm, too, and I knew there was a manicure kit in there with tweezers. I rifled through it until I found the kit and my eye caught something shimmery. It was Tommy’s silver chain with the crucifix. I lifted it out and looked at it. Then I remembered Tommy said I could call to have the spa people come up. Maybe I’d do that today while he was out and get my eyebrows and girlie bits done.

He came into the Hers bathroom, just walked right in. He grabbed his toothbrush from my train case and then his eyes landed on the necklace in my hand. He made a face I couldn’t quite read.

“Um, I could’ve been doing something embarrassing in here,” I said.

He rolled his eyes at me, but he didn’t answer as he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush and started on his teeth.

“Next time I guess I’ll lock it,” I mumbled.

His eyes narrowed and he spat toothpaste in the sink. “Don’t ever try to fucking lock me out of anywhere.”

This made me jolt back. Loaded silence filled the space as he looked at my reflection in the mirror, then he put the toothbrush back in his mouth and resumed. His eyes were on the chain in my hand.

“I, uh, Mexico,” I said, motioning to the case it had been in.

He gave me a swift nod. “Put it on for me.”

I fumbled and fastened it around his neck as he finished brushing his teeth. He was looking at me weirdly in the mirror. After it was finally fastened, I plugged in my curling iron and flicked it on and left the bathroom.

As he came out, I started, “Breakfast got cold. Should I –”

He shook his head, “I gotta run. Boys are next door if you need them. Stay here. I’ll be a couple hours and then we’ll go do something.”

I nodded.

He took my face in both hands and caressed it, looking deeply into my eyes. I chewed my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I nodded, but wondered if he was referring to being sorry about earlier or just now. He was still being a dick.

He kissed me on the forehead and then on the lips. His lips lingered, looking for mine to respond, I guess. I tried, but probably failed at being convincing. He backed up and stared at me for a minute and then he shook his head slowly.

“Fuck, Tia. What are you doing to me?”

I frowned. How was his hangover and / or his temper tantrum my fault?

He pulled me against him and held me tight, almost too tight. Then he backed up, shook his head with dismay, grabbed his phone and then left through the adjoining room. I was relieved to be alone. When I woke up today, I had no desire to sit in this hotel room all day while it seemed like the whole city was having fun. But now? I hoped he stayed busy.

He’d been off, mood wise, with me frequently since we got back from the farm. He was broody, temperamental. Actually, it’d started at the hospital, I think. I hated it. I hated that I had to walk on eggshells. Was this going to be my life from now on?

* * *

He picked me up about two and a half hours later. His eyes were sparkling and he seemed like he was in a good mood.

“The rest of the day is ours,” he told me and took me by the hand into the adjoining room where the two guys played cards with poker playing on the TV.

“Free time, boys. I’m going to show my girl Sin City. Just

have your cells on. I’ll have an errand for you in a few hours, so I’ll text about it.”

They both looked elated. I guess they were both itching for a real card game and some time out of their hotel room.

When I picked her up, she was timid with me. I couldn’t blame her for that after the way I’d been that morning, but right now I didn’t want timid, I wanted to show her some fun and erase what’d happened that morning.

It’d been a few hours since we left the room. We got lunch at an outdoor café and then I asked her what she wanted to do. She wanted to walk the strip. So we let the Bentley that the hotel had given us go and we walked, and walked. I took her to a jewelry store and told her to pick out a new pair of earrings. She didn’t want to. I insisted. She chose a simple pair of princess-cut diamond studs. They looked beautiful on her. I suggested we look at wedding bands, too.

The jeweler suggested an eternity band that would complement her engagement ring nicely and she liked it, so I bought it and told Tia to pick something for me. She was really wary about it, so much so that it made me feel like she was having second thoughts. I guess I was probably doing this to make her forget about the way I’d acted this morning as well as to move forward with the wedding plans, too.

After a long time, she chose for me. She made a really nice choice, actually. It was a twisted gold and black band, the two colors woven together in a Celtic knot pattern. It made me think of her and I. Light and dark, wrapped around one another.

“I love it,” I whispered in her ear. “It’s perfect. It makes me think of us.” She nuzzled into me and smiled shyly, her expression showing me that she and I had similar opinions about the design.

I arranged for the rings to be sent home, but Tia put the earrings on before we left the store. She was still quiet and a little timid, though, and it was getting to me. I needed to snap her out of it.

I guess he was trying to make up for that morning. I wasn’t trying to not let him off the hook or anything, but I just felt… I don’t know… sad. I didn’t know if he was being honest about the lipstick on his collar and I didn’t know what else was on his mind that’d made him so awful earlier. I didn’t know how to fake it. And he told me he didn’t want me to be fake when it was just him and I, anyways. But him buying me jewelry and acting the way he was acting felt fake to me. I wished we were back at the hay loft.

Tommy Ferrano was light and dark, like the colors in the wedding band I’d chosen for him. He thought the light and dark represented us but to me, it represented him. Woven together, the light and dark was who he was. I wondered if I’d be able to take the dark, though; I wanted the light to win out over it. But it looked like it’d be both I’d have to live with. Unless I found a way out. Did I still want a way out?

I needed a restroom. As we were walking through a mall-like area in between two hotels, I told him so and he said he did as well. Once we found bathrooms, he said he would meet me right outside the door afterwards.

But, he wasn’t there when I got out. It felt strange to find myself totally alone and with no eyes on me, no security guards around. I had the urge to run, to disappear into the crowd. My heart pounded with adrenaline as I looked around myself.

If I did take off, what would happen? My father clearly hadn’t been honest with me and so did that mean they wouldn’t have killed him if I hadn’t cooperated? I knew, for a fact, that they didn’t hesitate to kill their enemies, so Dad probably would be in danger. But did he even deserve my consideration after selling me out when I had escaped from Tommy? I didn’t know. But, where would I go?

No. I wasn’t going to do it. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d promised to be faithful, he’d said he was sorry about this morning, and he was trying to make his miserable mood up to me. I’d been weighing the good and the bad and right now the scales were still tipping in his favor. And if he was starting to trust me to be alone, without security, maybe it meant that it’d evolve to where I’d have enough freedom that if I ever did need to run, I could do it then. I didn’t want to run. I just wanted him to always be who he’d been in many of the moments when he’d been sweet to me. I could handle the hotness in the games we played, too, I liked the hotness, but this morning? Not hot at all.

I didn’t know what was keeping him. It’d been at least ten or fifteen minutes. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted him with:

“Did you fall in? LOL”

Five more minutes. Ten more minutes. No reply to my text and no sign of Tommy.

A man went in and then came back out of the bathroom, an older grandfatherly-looking man.

“Excuse me?” I called out. “My I’m wondering if my fiancé is all right. He went in kind of a long time ago, and hasn’t come out. He’s quite tall, brown hair, wearing a green t-shirt and dark shorts.”

“Bathroom’s empty,” the man said, shrugging.

I’m sure I must’ve looked shocked. “Thank you,” I said. I leaned against the wall and dialed Tommy’s phone number. It just rang.

I looked back at the text message. It was iMessage and it now said the earlier message had been read, just a moment before.

Where are you?I texted.

It was read immediately.

I waited to see the little dots showing me he was typing. It showed nothing after the read notification.

I looked around me. There were people everywhere. I sat there for another few minutes and finally, I felt like I had to do something. So I called him again. It rang and rang. Then I called Dario. His was the only other number in my contacts.

“Yeah?” he answered on the first ring.

“Dario, it’s Tia.”

“Hey-ya Tia Tyson!” he answered enthusiastically, and it sounded like he was smiling through the phone, which was weird because he’d gone from being the angry brother to this other person, still pretty intense, but now nice to me.

“Um, hi, uh… sorry to bug you but I don’t know what to make of this.”

“What’s that?” He sounded like he was in a restaurant. There was a lot of background noise.

“Um, I can’t find your brother. I went to the ladies’ room, he went to the men’s room, and I’ve been waiting outside the door for a long time, like almost half an hour. Someone told me the washroom is empty, he’s not there. I don’t know what to do.”

“Where’s security?”

“Tommy let them go have time to themselves.”

“Shit,” Dario said.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Okay, someone said the washroom was empty?”

“Yep.”

“Go in the washroom and check every stall, make sure he’s not passed out or something,” he told me. “Keep me on the line.” Then I heard him shout in the background to someone, “Gimme your phone.”

I walked into the mens’ room and followed his directions. I pushed every door open and there was no one there. I could hear Dario’s was voice muffled as he probably had his hand over his phone while, I imagined, calling Nino and James on someone else’s phone.

“Tia, where are you?” he asked.

“The Mandalay, in the shopping part between hotels. The bathroom’s definitely empty.”

“Go to the concierge’s desk in the Luxor and tell them you need security immediately and then put me on the phone with the concierge. Get out of that fucking bathroom in case someone’s behind this. Now. Keep me on the phone as you make your way to the front. Tell me if anything looks suspicious. The guys’ll be on their way.”

What now? I couldn’t wrap my head around this. Was this life, my life, going to entail one drama after another? Had Tommy been kidnapped or something? I prayed there was a logical explanation for this.

* * *

The fact that the concierge didn’t even make a weird face when I told him I needed immediate security and then passed my phone to him was beyond wonky to me. I guess in Vegas they are accustomed to weird requests.

My phone got passed back to me and Dario said, “I’ve got people on it. Don’t stress. I’m sending Jimmy to pick you up.”

I thanked him. I was taken to an office and offered refreshments and then I sat there, fidgeting with the water bottle I’d been given, until Tommy walked in. Not Jimmy. Tommy. I was shocked and relieved to see him. I jumped up and threw my arms around him.

“Thank God. Are you okay? What happened?”

He gave me a little smile and a big squeeze, momentarily lifting me off my feet. “We’ll talk after. Let’s go.”

Flying colors. She’d passed again. The way she’d handled that was just about perfect. She could’ve hocked the engagement ring and the earrings to get out of here, get away from me. She had at least $250 in her bag, too, as I’d given her pocket money for tips. The jewelry would’ve given her enough money to get gone and possibly even stay gone if she was smart about it. She could also have handled things the wrong way, called the cops and reported me missing, and involved them or something stupid like that.

But she didn’t. I saw her mind working from a security booth; I knew it’d crossed her mind to run. It was almost like I could see the thought bubbles above her head. I could see it in her body language as she chewed her lip, chewed her cheek, looked around herself, blew her hair out of her eyes like she was faced with a dilemma. But she did the right thing. The exact right thing. She called someone she knew I trusted and got advice.

There was only one problem. I needed her to misbehave. I needed her to misbehave so I had a reason to punish her. I was about to crack. Yeah, it was good to see she could handle an emergency, but why I probably really ran this test today was because I knew there would be fall out. I needed fall out.

When she’d put my necklace on me that morning it had floored me, made the reason for my mood swings and my needs so clear to me, and it hadn’t even done much good to wear it. I was tired, yeah, hadn’t had a lot of sleep in the past few nights, but I was craving confirmation and release. Confirmation that she was really mine and fear that she really wasn’t. And sexual release. I was fucking exhausted but had all this unused bottled-up sexual energy.

Last night didn’t help, either, when Ben Goldberg, the real estate developer I’d met with to talk about a new club here in Vegas, lined up some girls for us. I could’ve taken that redhead in the red leather dress wearing the bondage collar and grabbed the collar and fucked her up against the wall roughly. But I didn’t want her. I’d stared at her, thinking about that collar on my Tia.

The desire I had to be ice cream shop guy for her was overshadowing things. It was fucking with my head. That, the sheer fucking exhaustion, and the million things going through my head… overload. So, I got loaded, feeling sorry for myself instead, which was something I didn’t do. I needed a release, to get back to feeling in control again.

Our limo was out front waiting for us. She got in and I told the driver to just drive for a while, so we could figure out where we were going next. I closed the privacy glass.

“What happened to you?” She was wide-eyed and had her palm against her heart, like she was filled with relief, relief that I was okay.

I ignored the piercing sensation in my chest at that and I took a big breath. “I wanted to see what’d happen if something happened to me in a place like this without my security around. You handled it beautifully. If, God forbid, there’s a next time don’t stand around like a sitting duck for an hour, though.”

Her mouth dropped open and I started to feel guilty. I shoved it back.

“If you haven’t figured it out already, being with me means you have to think on your feet and think in a certain way. I thought I’d have to coach you on all of this stuff, so you’d know how to handle things, but it’s like you were made for this life. Good job, baby girl.”

Her fingertips shot up to her temples and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in for a long time before exhaling. Her mouth was still wide open. I waited. She kept her eyes closed and massaged her temples and then her mouth shut, shut tight. I could see her working her jaw muscles by clenching her teeth.

“Tia?”

“Mm.”

“You alright?” I leaned over and put my hand on her knee.

She recoiled right against the car door, as far away from me as she could get.

“I’ll just give you a minute, shall I?” I suggested and snickered.

Her eyes were still closed but she was shaking her head slowly and I could see she was working up toward a royal fucking fit.

“How many more times are you gonna do this?” I finally asked, eyes closed. I had a throbbing tension headache coming on, a whopper of one.

“As many as I feel I need to,” he said softly, his voice laced with warning. “As many as I think I need to put my mind at ease.”

“Put your mind at ease about me not running away?”

“That, and about you being equipped to deal with emergencies. This was probably more about emergencies.”

I guffawed.

“You got a problem with that?”

His tone of voice grated on my nerves. I should just open the car door and walk the fuck away from him.

“Was that roughing me up this morning part of the test? Piss me off by being a total prick and then leave me alone to see if I run away?” I finally opened my eyes and looked into his.

“That was just me,” he said softly with a shrug. He looked so arrogant, so unapologetic.

And that was worse because that meant that on top of everything else, every frightened and helpless emotion he’d just put me through, that he really was an abusive asshole.

The car stopped at a red light and then I did what was probably the stupidest thing I’ve done since meeting him. I thrust the door open and I got out of the limo and stormed off between other waiting cars and then down the street in the opposite direction.

An instant after I did, I caught the view of someone running, from the corner of my eye. It was Nino. He’d gotten out of a small smart car behind our limo and he was on his phone, talking while he was following me. Figured. The whole thing was staged; I was probably never alone at all.

I shot Nino a dirty look over my shoulder and I kept right on walking. My pocket dinged. I kept walking, but faster, more determined. Then I was through a revolving door, Nino not ten feet behind me, and inside of a casino, I didn’t know which one, and I was storming down the trippy-looking butt-ugly carpet and because I’d ignored it the first time, my pocket dinged again. I ignored it again. Suddenly, I felt fingers grip my arm at my bicep. My heart hit the bottom of my stomach.

“Read your text,” Nino told me. He was not smiling.

I shrugged him off and thrust my hand in my pocket and pulled the phone out to read the text from Tommy.

Fine, cool off. Nino will keep you safe. Be back at the suite in half an hour. I’ll be waiting.

I responded to his text without hesitating.

FUCK YOU!

The read receipt popped instantly, and I turned the phone off and then thrust the phone back in my pocket. My heart sank, but that sensation was below the surface of my anger, which was bigger than my fear or my common sense right now, so I resumed walking and Nino followed right along behind me. After a few minutes, I was beyond annoyed with him being right behind me. I needed to lose him. I just needed five damn minutes by myself, totally by myself.

I spotted a blonde woman in a skimpy outfit carrying a tray of drinks. I saw a drunk-looking middle-aged Asian guy approaching her, so I suddenly took off running past him, sort of bumped him, and he knocked her drinks all over the place. This happened like it was carefully rehearsed choreography, right in front of Nino and I was off…half walking and half running, hoping casino security wouldn’t think I was suspicious and try to stop me.

I zig- zagged through rows of slot machines and then card tables and roulette wheels. I finally got the nerve to glance back and there was no sign of him.

I found my way out into the lobby of that hotel and left. I went to a café a few doors down and sat and drank an iced cappuccino and took my time about it. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got. How dare he! What the heck was his problem?

My angry rage fog cleared and made me ask myself a better question: what the heck was my problem? My heart sank as gravity sank in. Provoking him like that? I had no idea how pissed he’d be. But I was pretty pissed, too, and the way I was feeling I’d have no problem articulating that to him.

After over an hour in the café I hailed a cab out front. I asked the driver to take me to the hotel. I had no death wish desires so, no, I wasn’t running away right now. I guess I was just teaching him a lesson. How dare he do that to me and then have the audacity to ‘give’ me half an hour to cool down!

I paid the cabbie and strolled up to the concierge’s desk and told him I was with Tommy Ferrano, gave the suite number, and said that I’d forgotten my room key.

He punched some keys into his computer and told me he remembered me from the previous day and that he’d escort me up in a moment and asked me to just have a seat.

I had to stand my ground. If we were going to have a real relationship, one that was a two-way street, I had to have a voice he paid attention to. If he really wanted me for me, he’d understand that he couldn’t keep doing things like this. And he’d have to learn to rein in his temper, too, because what’d happened this morning was totally unacceptable.

The concierge came over a moment later and told me he’d escort me to my suite. Once inside, I kicked off my shoes and then I poured a glass of wine from the bottle sitting in the ice bucket in the bedroom from the night before. The ice had melted, but it was still chilly. I sat on the bed and I waited, arms crossed. I was ready for a showdown with my fiancé.

I turned the phone on and saw there were 2 missed calls and two texts.

Tia! Turn around right now and meet Nino at the front desk.

Another one.

Are you seriously stupid enough to do this? I fucking hope not

Nothing since then. It’d been over an hour ago. I answered with a text.

Cool your jets. I’m in our room.

Immediately he read it and those three dots appeared, showing he was typing. I waited.

big fucking trouble baby

I wrote back:

You know what? Bring it on. I’m so fucking pissed at you. This relationship needs to be a 2-way street. You want to test me and play games with me over over again? Treat me like crap like a piece of property and then expect me to have zero reaction at you playing mind games? Wrong! If you want me to be the faithful and dutiful fiancée, I SUGGEST you start treating me with respect!!

My phone rang almost immediately after he read the message.

I answered it practically spitting, “What?”

“Be ready and waiting, baby girl. When I get there, I’m gonna paint your sweet little ass black and blue.”

Click.

All my bravado drained out of me and I instantly felt like throwing up. I am such a stupid na?ve little girl. I thought I was so tough, so determined to stand up for myself, but here I was now quaking, wondering what sort of rage I’d be faced with when he returned. His voice was so angry, so scary, that I wished I had an undo button for that conversation.

I paced, entertaining thoughts of taking off and escaping, but before I could form a coherent thought, I heard something outside so I looked out the peep hole and saw a hotel security guard standing directly outside the door. Holy shit.

I went back into the bedroom, into the Hers bathroom to splash water on my face, and about fifteen minutes later I heard the door open. My heart sped up, so I took a deep breath, trying to push my fear away. I steeled myself, narrowed my eyes, and crossed my arms.

There was a knock at the bedroom door, which was already halfway open. I walked over to the doorway and both James and Nino were standing there. They both looked absolutely pissed. The sight of the pair of them in my doorway was pretty damn intimidating-looking. I swallowed and hugged myself.

James spoke. “Tommy asked that you wait in the bedroom for him to get back. He’s asked us to lock the door. Since this door doesn’t lock from the outside, one of us’ll be right outside the door on guard till he gets back. You need anything?”

“No,” I croaked out.

Then without saying anything, one of them slammed the door shut in my face.

Shit. What have I done? Even the guards were mad at me.

Almost three hours later, I was still in this room and I’d worked myself into a frenzy of scared shitless. Every time I heard voices outside the door, my heart and stomach plummeted. So far it’d only been their voices.

When I finally heard his voice, I wanted to scamper and hide under the bed. Adrenalin coursed through my veins. It was getting dark and the Vegas lights were starting to twinkle on outside, bit by bit as I sat in the darkening room on the bed with no lights on. I’d had two glasses of wine into me, and I didn’t know if when he finally came in if I’d resume my pissed-off stance or if I’d cower.

The door opened and clicked closed. He was standing in front of me. He flicked the lamp on beside me.

“You say bring it? Consider it brought.”

I stared down at my lap like a fricking coward.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly.

I looked up and he was taking his necklace off and putting it on the nightstand.

“Not so tough when you’re not hiding behind your phone? I can’t believe you took off like that.”

“I was making a point,” I mumbled petulantly and as the last word was coming out of my mouth, he had my chin in his grasp. His eyes were fiery mad and fricking scary.

“Then I guess I need to make my point now,” he told me.

He let go of my face and sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “Over my knee,” he said calmly, so calmly that for a second, I thought he was going to crack a smile. It was so preposterous that he couldn’t possibly be serious. But, he didn’t crack a smile. He was serious. And he had a belt in his hand.

I gawked at him, then at the belt, then at him again. He raised his eyebrows and pointed to his lap, tightening his lips.

I shook my head. “When we have a problem. We need to talk about it; we–”

He grabbed me and threw me across his lap before I could finish.

“We can talk later, Tia. Right now, I need to beat your ass.” I could feel a rock-hard erection under me. His hand was flat across my lower back.

I tried to get up, but he suddenly had my hair. He made a ponytail with it at the nape of my neck.

“Tommy, please don’t.”

“No? Why?”

“We need to talk about our problems, we need–”

“Oh, talk? You mean not take off and run away, leaving the other person in the middle of the fucking street?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He slapped my rear, not very hard, and with his hand, but then he reached under, undid my belt, button, and zipper, then yanked my shorts and underwear down just past my butt and having them around my thighs just felt so…so tawdry or something.

Another slap, still his hand but on my bare rump. Ouch, that hurt.

“Wrong answer,” he said. Then his hand was on my butt. The coolness of it felt soothing after the two slaps. I held my breath.

“What should you have said?”

I frowned. Did he think I was going to apologize?

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m apologizing to you after what you did to me today,” I told him.

Slap. The sting was incredibly painful.

“Hey!” I shouted and tried to struggle out of his hold. I couldn’t believe this was still, at his core, who he was. After everything we’d been through, after all that he’d said.

It was like he read my mind just then. “Do you think that because I’ve been sweet to you that this part of me is gone?” He spoke low and menacingly. “Do you think because I’m in love with you that you can walk all over me? Do you fucking think you can tell me what I need to do for you to be faithful to me? Really? Fucking really?”

Whoa.

“I’m in control,” he said low and dug his fingers into my rear end, hard enough I knew it would leave a bruise. “Me.”

“Tommy,” I whimpered.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

“You don’t want this?”

“No. If you’re so in love with me–”

Smack. This time the belt bit across my ass and I bit down on my lip hard and tried to pull away. He did it again. This wasn’t a sexy game, this fucking hurt. And he had to know the difference. Tears stung in my eyes.

“You don’t set the rules around what I will and will not do if I love you, do you hear me? If I’m in love with you? Unfuckingbelievable.”

He took me by the arms and pushed me off his lap but onto the bed on my tummy and then I heard him undo his pants. Before I could move, he pushed into me in a quick thrust. I was not wet, I was not aroused, and it fucking hurt.

He had my hair. “Not wet for me? Oh baby, this is a problem. Don’t you remember that I ordered you to get wet for me whenever I spanked you?” His hot breath was against my ear and under any other circumstance I probably would’ve thought it was sexy, it probably would’ve created some moisture down there. Not now.

“Another reason to punish you.”

“Tommy,” I whimpered.

“What?” he spat.

“Stop,” I pleaded.

“How else will I teach you that running from me is absolutely never okay? Don’t tell me to stop. I fuck you how and when I want to fuck you.” His hand covered my mouth.

He pulled out and tried to go in again, slower, but I just winced, still bone dry. Then he pulled out and flipped me over onto my back and ripped my blouse open and then pinned my arms with one hand and covered my mouth with the other.

“I don’t want to hear another fucking word out of your mouth,” he spat.

I was shaking and it felt like we were back where we started. Me afraid, him being horrible, but worse, because I knew he didn’t have to be like this but he was choosing to be.

I hated this. This wasn’t a game; this was something else, something hideous. This was so hideous it was going to take me back to when I first met him and would erase the moments we’d had together that had made me go from feeling like my life was over to feeling like I could fall for him, fall hard.

In Mexico when he held me and washed me clean.

In the hayloft when we danced and he told me he was in love with me and played the song I’d dreamt of dancing with my future husband to.

In the hospital when he was so worried about me and showed me that he would look after me, when he slept all awkwardly in the chair holding my hand all night long.

On the floor in the bedroom the morning we were shot at, when he’d been a human shield to keep bullets from hitting me.

Something inside of me was shriveling up and it, whatever it was, was dying. He let go of my wrists and my mouth and then let out a big exasperated-sounding sigh. Then he leaned over me.

“Stop it,” he said, looking me in the eye. His eyes were so cold. I was sobbing so hard I was starting to hyperventilate.

“Stop,” he repeated, angrily.

I couldn’t stop. I’d probably need to breathe into a paper bag before I could stop.

“Shut up!” His hand came down over my throat and he squeezed. I think I stopped breathing out of shock as much as him cutting my airflow off. Tears froze in their tracks on my face and my mouth and eyes were wide as I gasped and then he loosened his grip.

He stared at me. He stared at me with such an angry, hateful look. He still had my throat, but he’d loosened his grip. I swallowed and felt the lump in my throat touch his palm.

He got up and opened the door. I stayed where I was. I was just lying there with my shorts down around my knees, my ripped blouse, and my tear-stained face.

He was back with a glass of whisky. He stood there, his fly undone. He drank from it and then threw his t-shirt over his head and then dropped his shorts.

I closed my eyes and held my breath. He took my shorts and underwear the rest of the way off me. I just laid there.

“Sit up,” he ordered.

I sat up. He pulled my ripped blouse off and undid my bra and then took that off. He did these things almost clinically.

“Up,” he muttered and I stood up. He pulled the blanket back, and said, “In.”

I lay down and he got in beside me then climbed on top of me.

“Open your legs,” he said.

I shook my head. “Please, Tommy.” Enough. Please enough.

“Now!” he snarled.

My legs obeyed but I was whimpering.

He leaned over me, took his cock and began gliding it up and down and up and down between my folds, against my clit. I just stared at the ceiling.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

My eyes met his.

“You’re mine,” he told me.

I felt my eyebrows furrow. I tried to relax them. I didn’t want to provoke him further.

“Never run from me again.”

More rubbing, especially on my clit. I was trembling.

“I’m the one in control,” he advised.

He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. Then he took his cock and repeated the process of stroking it up and down. After several strokes he rammed into me to the hilt. He did this not taking his eyes off mine.

“I own this pussy,” he declared coldly. “It’s mine.”

I couldn’t hide my disgust and tried to look away.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

“Fuck you,” I whimpered.

“Oh, it’s back on, is it?” he asked and he looked sickeningly pleased.

He leaned down and tried to kiss me. He actually tried to kiss me! I reached up to push his face away but he caught my arm and then pinned both arms. He started to pound into me, fuck me and use me like I was a piece of meat. Then he abruptly kissed me hard, painfully, grunting out, “Try to slap my face again and I’ll slap your face. In fact, I think I still owe you a black eye and a fat lip, don’t I?”

My whole body went lax, I didn’t try to fight. That threat was his winning move. He threatened to hit me while his cock was inside of me and at that I was just done, the fight drained out of me. I just stayed there, letting him push into me over and over until he leaned back over and started to kiss me, hungrily, roughly, his hand back around my throat.

I tried to float away in my mind. I saw the sky over the field back at his farm and imagined his beautiful face looking at me with love and I tried to feel that love. But I couldn’t. I just wanted to float all the way away.

He finally came, but not inside me; he pulled out and came all over my stomach, marking me like I was his property. He reached over and wiped my stomach with something, I didn’t see what. Then he went lax and breathless on top of me.

He stayed there for a second, breathing hard. I don’t know if I even breathed or if I was just frozen in horror. Finally, he leaned, reached over me, and flicked the lamp back on and said, “Put it back on me.” He had the silver necklace in his hand.

The necklace?

I usually fumbled with things like that. I don’t know how I got it unclasped and re-clasped in the dim room in the state of mind I was in, but I did, first try, as he hovered over me watching me do it, looking at me stripped bare and vulnerable and at his mercy, his own expression stripped bare and telling me so much with his eyes. His eyes came into focus for me and they were on mine and suddenly pain-stricken, sorrowful. My throat and chest both started to burn.

After it was around his neck and my hands dropped back listlessly to the mattress, he looked at me, that pain and sorrow etched in his features intensifying. I just stared back at him, feeling empty, raw, feeling utterly broken. I bit back the emotion. He rolled off of me, reached down to the floor and grabbed the t-shirt he had on, and then he put it over my head. He took a wrist and motioned for me to get my arm into the arm hole. I did the second arm myself.

He lay back down on top of me, burying his face into my neck. “Fuck baby. I love you,” he whispered into my ear and then ran his thumb over my bottom lip.

He stroked my hair, and we just stayed still while he did that with me pinned underneath him. I didn’t make a sound, I didn’t move a muscle. Eventually, he fell asleep right on top of me like that.

When his breathing evened out, my hand came up and covered my mouth. Realization of how dark and deep that rabbit hole actually was had just sunk in with his I love you. This was him, the rest of him.

This was what he meant when he said, “and you have to take all of me.” I was in so much more trouble than I’d even imagined. I held back the tears, held back the sob that threatened to burst from deep in my gut out of my throat and just swallowed it.

One of the many great things about Vegas is that it never sleeps and because of that you can get anything at any hour. I woke up at 2:40 am and I was starving. She was underneath me, still, and she was awake.

I leaned up onto my elbows and looked down at her and assessed her face for a few minutes. She was looking me right in the eyes; she was looking straight into my soul. But I couldn’t read her.

“Hungry?” I asked. We’d skipped dinner.

She kept staring at me for a moment, blinking at me like she was stunned or something. Then she gave me a little bit of a nod.

“Let’s go find some food,” I said and kissed her on the mouth. I rolled off and got into my boxers, then headed to the closet for clothes. She got up, wrapped in a sheet and hurried into the bathroom.

I touched the crucifix that sat against my chest and then pulled it back and forth on the chain, deep in thought, waiting for her.

She came out a moment later with her hair tied in a ponytail. She’d put some makeup on but she looked rough. Her eyes were puffy from all the crying and her lips looked a bit swollen and bruised. I knew I’d kissed her hard. Her eyes landed briefly on my necklace and then she averted them quickly.

I watched her go to the closet and get out a pair of white jeans, a pink collared shirt, and a pair of ballerina type shoes and then she grabbed a bra and underwear and went back into the bathroom and got dressed. I headed to the other bathroom. I was done before she was. When she came out, she put her phone in her purse and then zipped it up and wore it diagonally across her body. She stood there, staring at the carpet, staring anywhere but at me.

I texted Jimmy to tell them that we were going out, but that we were good for the night and then I took her hand and we headed out in search of sustenance.

* * *

We found a deli where I ordered corned beef on rye with fries and a Coke .

She softly told the waitress “Same for me.”

We’d walked in silence, and then ate in silence, people- watching out the window. I caught a glimpse of her throat and it was red from when I’d grabbed her. It would probably be bruised tomorrow. My gut twisted when I saw that. I looked away and as I did, I caught a young college-aged guy in a varsity jacket checking her out from across the restaurant. I glared at him, and he went red in the face before he looked the other way. She saw it happen. She looked back down at her food, which she’d barely touched.

Then on our way back, as we made our way past the Bellagio’s fountains, I saw her stare at it in what looked like appreciation, so I stopped, and we stood there so she could watch.

She watched the fountains, and I watched her. Her eyes were sad. I felt my heart constrict.

Fuck, Tia. I’m sorry, baby. These words stayed in the middle of my throat.

I turned her to face me and caressed her face while I stared at her for a minute, trying to say things with my eyes that I couldn’t find the words for.

She stared back, and the look on her face… it wasn’t anger. It wasn’t cold. It was as if she was devastated.

It fucking hurt. After a minute I pulled her in close for a kiss. Her lips parted and she let me kiss her, but she didn’t really kiss me back. She winced. I think her lips were sore from earlier.

Anyone walking by would’ve thought we looked like a happy couple in love with the backdrop of the Bellagio water fountains. It’d make a winning postcard. Good thing we weren’t standing there holding one another with thought bubbles dangling over our heads.

My thought bubble: I’m so sorry, baby. Sorry for what I am, for what I need to do to you. I went too far. I wish I could take it back.

Hers: I fucking hate you. I hope you die, you rotten to the core animal.

At the restaurant and walking to and from, he kept stealing glances at me.

I think he was looking to see if I hated him. He probably wanted to know if I’d stopped caring about him, if he’d killed that. He’d shown me many sides of him since we’d been thrown together and after seeing this side, after seeing him snap like that with me and then find it within himself to use me like that… he was probably trying to determine whether or not I could handle this.

The truth was that I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I felt. I knew I had to handle it from the perspective of being trapped with him right now, but what I didn’t know was if I could handle it in the way that… would it break me?

In the moments when he was being horribly cruel, I thought my feelings had shriveled up and died. I would’ve guessed that now in the public I would take my chances by screaming bloody murder, hoping someone would rescue me.

But then with the reveal of the necklace being some sort of anchor for him, then the way he held me and said he loved me and fell asleep against me like he was completely exhausted, like he’d been through the ringer, just like after Mexico, it just hit, twisted a knife in me somewhere deep. I had fallen asleep, but just for a little while.

I think my brain made me sleep to protect me because I couldn’t process it at the time. After I’d woken, most of me underneath him, unable to move without waking him, I just stayed still and tried processing it. I was still processing it. All of it.

That necklace had come off and on him. He’d been broody for the past few days and then there it was and he settled down. He took it off to be horrible to me when I’d pissed him off and then when I put it back on he told me he loved me and passed out like he’d exhausted himself.

It was on him at the beach after our first date when he’d been so passionate. It was on him in the basement when he wasn’t upset after I’d gone downstairs before he woke up.

I’d seen him take it off a few times when he was about to be particularly horrible. He didn’t want to wear it in Mexico when he went off to enact revenge against my kidnappers. He took it off when he wanted to punish me, twice from what I could remember.

What was it with that necklace and more importantly, how could I keep it on his neck? And how would I convince him that he needed therapy? He’d been really stressed out since the hospital. He’d hardly slept the past few days. That stress on his mind and his body...did it build up to this and then erupt like a volcano, spilling molten lava all over me?

After I kissed her, I wouldn’t say she responded, but she didn’t pull away either, she looked at me like she was trying to de-code me.

Good luck with that, baby.

I pulled her tight against me and kissed her on the top of her head and we stood for a long time just watching the lightshow. I ran my hands up and down her back and her arms, just holding her close to me. I wanted her to relax against me, but she was stiff, holding her arms at her sides.

“Ready?” I finally asked after it was obvious she wasn’t going to relax.

We walked back toward the hotel, hand in hand. Then two beat cops passed us on the sidewalk just before we hit the entrance. My gaze darted to her face. She glanced at the cops and then straight ahead, the way she’d glance at anyone we passed. I squeezed her hand real quick and then let out a long breath of relief. I wasn’t sure if she noticed or not.

We got up to our suite in silence and then when we got into the bedroom she disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on.

I debated whether or not to get in with her or go to the other bathroom, but finally decided I had no choice. I had to look after her. I had to make sure we were okay.

I walked into the bathroom, took off my clothes, climbed into the shower, and found her sitting on the tiles inside the shower stall, huddled in the corner, bawling her eyes out under the running water, her face buried in her knees.

She gasped when she saw me step in and then it was like transparent shutters came down and her expression went cold.

No. Fuck no! I had to fix this.

“Tia, come here,” I said as gently as I could, despite the emotion twisting in my gut, and motioned for her to get up.

She did, but robotically. I took her face into my hands and I kissed her and pulled her tight to me.

She stood there, trembling, despite the fact that the shower was scalding hot.

“Put your arms around me, baby, please?” I pleaded with her.

She did, but it felt robotic, too. I soaped up my hands and started on her back, rubbing my hands up and down. I massaged her shoulders and then took a step back and started on her beautiful breasts, moving my soapy hands up and down and then massaging her throat while softly kissing her face.

She reached over and took the shampoo and squeezed some onto her palm and then started to rub it into her hair, squeezing her eyes shut tight and focusing on her shampooing as if I wasn’t even touching her. I let go of her and started to scrub myself instead. She turned her back on me and got further under the stream. When she was rinsed off, she said, “Excuse me,” not looking at me, and then she squeezed by me and left the shower. I leaned against the wall and contemplated what to do next.

I could hear her blow-drying her hair outside the shower stall.

I got cleaned up and tried to let the hot water wash something, I didn’t know what, that was part of me, away. Yes, I’d wanted her pissed, I wanted her provoked so I could bring her to heel and satisfy my urges and work off my frustration, but it had gone off the rails. I never knew she’d run from me. The time between her taking off and her telling me she was back in the room put me over the edge. I knew she wasn’t far, I had a GPS in her ring and had seen she wasn’t far, but the fact that she’d pushed back that hard made me lose my shit like I’d never before lost it with a woman.

I never knew that it’d get me so filled with rage and that at the same time it’d light a fire in me that way. I knew, when I’d been berating her, spanking her, fucking her, that I was doing damage to her, to us, but I couldn’t get a lock on it. I’d let it bubble over. I’d gone over the edge with her to a point that might’ve been the point of no return. That’s why I guess I had her put the necklace on me, I needed her to know I was past it, that I could still be sweet, maybe even be the ice cream shop guy she dreamt of sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes.

I needed her to know I had that other side of me, but that I was done. For the time being, anyway. I didn’t know what would happen now.

The look on her face, how distraught she was, it wasn’t just about what I’d done, it was about who I was. It was about how crushed her hopes and dreams for our relationship now were. I’d fucked up huge, probably irreparably.

I found her in bed. She was wearing a white tank top and white underwear that looked like short shorts when I pulled the blankets back. Her back was turned to me.

I curled into her back, ignoring the sting of her tightening, and nuzzled in and kissed the back of her neck. Her hair was still a little bit damp and it smelled different, like the hotel shampoo. I wanted it to smell like vanilla, oats, and honey, like cookies, like it had the night I played guitar while we watched the sunset over the pond at my safe house when all felt right in the world. Everything right now felt wrong. I was wrong. So fucking wrong.

I whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll fix it.”

She stiffened even further, so I knew she heard me, but she said nothing. I leaned over and turned her so that she faced me and her cheek was against my chest. I stroked her throat where I’d marked her and fell asleep with my nose buried in her hair.

* * *

In the morning I woke up fifteen minutes before my phone alarm went off and for a split second, I panicked that she wasn’t beside me. But, then I saw her. For the first time, she wasn’t draped over me. She was huddled into a ball on the bottom of the bed, no blankets on her, and she was asleep, but she was shivering. Pretty poignant to me that in her deep sleep she was that repelled by me that she wasn’t even seeking warmth. If someone had just ripped my heart out of my chest, I doubt it’d hurt as much as seeing her like that. I had to figure out how to fucking fix this.

I climbed down to the bottom of the bed and curled into her back and wrapped my arms around her. She didn’t nuzzle in to my warmth; she continued shivering. I reached in between her legs and started to circle her clit with my fingers. She stilled. She wasn’t wet. She wasn’t opening up for me like she usually did. If I had any decency, I’d leave her alone and let her recover from what I’d put her through. I had no decency. None.

I wasn’t giving up until I made her shatter and willingly wrap her arms around me. I needed that right now. I needed it more than my next breath. I needed to know we were gonna survive this, that I hadn’t lost her.

I kept going, but she wasn’t giving me anything. She was trembling with fear now, instead of just the cold, and I knew she was awake and afraid. I decided to pull out the moves and kissed her from her shoulder all the way down to her hip. I turned her onto her back and pulled down her panties and started lapping at and prodding her clit with my tongue. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight and her bottom lip was sucked in, a deep V between her eyes.

After a long time and a fuck of a lot of effort, it didn’t seem like it’d get me anywhere. I worked two fingers in and finger-fucked her hard and fast while working her clit with alternating between sucking and tongue action and fuck me but I felt elation when I finally tasted some of her moisture. Her breathing went shallow and then she let out a little moan and then a little gasp. About fucking time.

Then she was clawing at my arms and pulling on my hair and then she tried to pull away and I knew she didn’t really want away. She was only reacting to the intensity of it. Then she squirted. The way she jumped, almost five feet in the air, and said, “The fuck?” made me laugh.

I tackled her to the bed and kissed her all over her face, a succession of powerful smooches all over her gorgeous face. I expected she’d be all loose and covered in an awesome sex glow, but instead she was crimson and shaking her head and her hand was over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes but, didn’t spill over. They looked so green. So shiny. So fucking sad.

“You squirted,” I told her matter-of-factly, looking down at my wet chest. She looked at me like I was speaking Greek. “Women can ejaculate, too, you know,” I added.

She shook her head. She had no idea what I was talking about.

“Baby, it takes a very skilled lover to pull that off. Many try and fail. Many women never get to experience it. Congratulations.”

My cockiness did nothing to help my cause. She hid her face, mortified. I got up and grabbed her wrist and tugged to get her to follow me to the shower. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes. I knew that other than getting to watch her come apart sexually, that my efforts hadn’t given me a damn thing.

When I’d woken up at the wrong end of the bed with him all over me, I wanted to die. I’d climbed down there when I couldn’t get to sleep in his arms. I needed space. I had contemplated sleeping on the sofa but suspected he’d be pissed and be more than happy to dole out another punishment if I dared sleep somewhere else. After he washed and shampooed me, trying to be all sweet and attentive again in the shower, he got washed and shampooed and then he left me in there. I stayed in there for a very long time, until I was pruny. When I finally got out he was gone. He wasn’t in the sitting room or the bathrooms either. I checked the stupid iPhone and there was a text from him.

Baby, gone to a meeting. See you in a few hours. Order breakfast. Go down to the spa too (take Nino Jimmy) and I’ll text you in a bit with the name of who to see at a boutique for you to pick a dress, shoes, and whatever for tonight. We have a dinner and show thing with my associates. I left a credit card for you. Pin 5683. Get whatever you want! Text me when you get this. Xo.

I replied.

Ok.

I knocked on the adjoining room’s door. Nino opened it. He eyed me warily. I was surprised neither of them was stationed in here with me after yesterday.

“I’m about to order room service. Do you two want anything?

“No,” he grunted.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I’m sure I put you in a bad position yesterday and I’m sorry about that. I let my, uh, emotions get the better of me. I hope you didn’t catch too much slack.”

His mouth turned up into a smile. “It’s okay, doll. And no, we’re good.” He winked.

I think I garnered some respect by speaking up and apologizing. Then I saw his eyes land on my throat.

“You all right?” His expression darkened.

I nodded and pulled my robe tighter. “I’ll be booking a spa appointment and–” I heard my phone ding, “some visit to a dress shop or something. I’ll let you know about that?”

“I’ve already got the details. Get breakfast. Then let us know when you’re ready to go.”

I nodded.

It was already 11:45 and I wasn’t surprised since I saw the sun rise before I finally fell asleep. I looked at the phone.

Tommy had messaged with a boutique name and address and the name Suzette and wrote that I should call down to the hotel spa, that they had an appointment for me.

I replied with:

Thanks.

He replied back with three x’s.

I headed to the bathroom to examine my throat. It had a purply and fairly distinct handprint on it. There would be no hiding that I’d been choked. Nino hadn’t looked pleased when he saw it. But what would he do about it, right? Nothing, likely, except pity the boss’s poor stupid girlfriend who’d gotten herself in trouble.

I ate some oatmeal and fruit while watching the news on TV and tried to get my mind straight. I pondered things, wondering if I’d kept his dominance cravings at bay after Mexico with the games we’d played at the farm. In the past few days since then there hadn’t been any games but there had been stress. Oodles of stress.

He’d warned me after Mexico that he might take his frustrations out on me in the bedroom. I had no idea what that meant at that time. Did he need me to be stress relief? Maybe if I played the kinds of sex games with him that we’d played at the farm that’d help. That’d give him the thrill of the chase and so forth. Maybe if I made sure I did that, it’d be enough and he’d keep the necklace on. And maybe if he didn’t have the necklace on, I’d know to be extra careful. I’d do my best to make him not want to take it off and if it was off, I’d make sure not to provoke him.

Right now, I wasn’t thinking like a girl happy to be with her fiancé on a trip; I was thinking like someone who had to find a way to survive. I resisted the urge to crawl back into bed and cry some more over the lost love of my life that I now knew was just a mirage and decided that I just needed to get through the rest of this trip and when we got back I’d try to figure out what to do next.

But when we got back home, he wanted me to start planning our wedding. At that thought, it felt like ice pierced my veins. I looked down at the engagement ring on my finger. It was beautiful alright, and right now it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

* * *

By 7:00 I was ready for him, as ready as I could possibly be to go on a date and pretend that I was okay with it.

I was in a knee-length sleeveless and fitted short-sleeved gold dress with a high lace neck. I had stammered to the dress shop lady about wanting something with a turtleneck and she laughed asking how I could think of wearing such a thing in the desert in June, but then I pulled my hair back and showed her my throat and she didn’t even flinch, just strolled over to the rack that had this beautiful dress.

I kept on my new diamond earrings and wore a pair of gold strappy heels that had been paired with the dress. Thanks to the spa I had freshly done fingernails and toenails with perfectly shaped brows and I was ready to go. I’d foregone the bikini wax today. My girlie parts had seen enough action in the last twenty-four hours, thank you very much. My trip to the dress shop in a cab with my two bodyguards had been uneventful, but they seemed to be very alert, probably figuring their balls were on the line if I managed to give them the slip.

When I got back to the suite, I was surprised when he came out of the His bathroom ready, dressed, looking dapper, in a tuxedo. Dapper wasn’t an adequate word, actually. He looked like a movie star heading to the red carpet. He was freshly shaven, his hair had been trimmed just a touch, and when he opened the bedroom door he smiled and his whiskey-colored eyes twinkled.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed, opening his arms. “Come here, please.”

I went into his arms and said, “Not so bad yourself” but I couldn’t look him in the face.

He inhaled my hair. “Orange blossoms?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I guess?”

“Nice, but I love what your hair smells like best at home,” he whispered.

“When are we going back?” I asked in a returned whisper.

“Tomorrow,” he answered and passed me the little gold clutch purse that I’d packed with the iPhone, a lipstick, a handkerchief, and the remaining cash from the wad of tip money he’d given me. I noticed this morning that he’d topped it up.

“Ready?” he asked.

“You were going to, ah, brief me?”

“Ah.” He sat on the sofa and patted his knee. I leaned to sit beside him instead, but he caught me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap. Figures; control freak. I sat and stared at my hands in my lap.

“Ben Goldberg is a real estate developer who looks like a CPA but throw in a heavy dose of kink. He’s getting in with some grey area and wise guy types to finance a project. He’s a little out of his element, so he’s trying too hard, trying to show everyone a real good time, hence the hookers the other night. Earlier he met with me, an associate and friend of mine John Lewis, and a local Vegas guy, Leo Denarda, who’s a real sleaze ball. Leo has similar interests to Juan Carlos Castillo, suspected pedophile. The only reason no one has taken him out is because a) no concrete proof yet and b) he’s very well connected in these parts. The reason I tell you this is so you know he’s not a friend, be polite, of course, but know he’s not a friend. We’ll be doing a dinner and a show thing with them and a few other couples. A little bit of business will be discussed, but very little. The project is to take a legal brothel just outside of town, and expand. He wants to make it into an adult theme park and fetish club and we’ve all gotten the pitch and seen the financials and business plan. Tonight’s his last kick at the can through schmoozing all the potential investors with their wives or girlfriends. He’s doing this dinner and then we’re all going to a show and then we’ve been invited to his club to check out a show. I suspect you and I will be done after the show, the Blue Man Group.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

“I’m here representing the Ferrano family and this is an area my father wants explored. It’s probably the last major project he’s delegating to me before retirement. I won’t bore you with any other details and in general you don’t need details as I do not plan to bring you into the fold with business but for this, appearances are important and I wanted you to know the backstory so you’re not unprepared. Okay?”

I nodded, absorbing all he was talking about. Brothels? Pedophiles? Real nice. And what he’d said about Juan Carlos? That pink basement prison bedroom? Tommy’s comments told me what I’d refused to acknowledge while I was down there. I cringed. I wanted to cry imagining a child being locked in that bedroom with those cameras and that vile man.

“I know what you’re thinkin’. Ben tried that the other night, brought escorts in for all the potential investors. I told you I didn’t partake and I was honest. Tonight, it’s wives and girlfriends. The only way it’s anything less than wholesome is if we opt to go to the club and the after party. I don’t think we’re doing the club and we’re definitely not touching that after party. Okay?”

“Kay.” I hadn’t been thinking what he’d thought I’d been thinking but I already wanted this evening over and done with.

“Tia?”

“Hm?” I didn’t look him in the eyes. I just…I couldn’t.

“I know things aren’t ideal with you and me after last night. I’ll work on that and believe me, baby, it’s a priority. I know I fucked up. I fucked up huge. But we need to put it aside tonight. We’re an engaged couple getting married in a few weeks, happily engaged. That needs to be the tone this evening. Got me?”

I rolled my eyes and then my filter obviously malfunctioned as I said, “Yeah, gotcha. Don’t worry, damn fine actress over here, remember?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek and murmured, “Baby.”

He said it like I’d wounded him. He looked at me for a minute with pain in his eyes. I tried to soften my features so I wasn’t frowning or grimacing at him, so I wouldn’t provoke him. He reached up toward my face and I flinched. Pain on his face intensified with my flinch.

His hand landed softly on my cheek in a caress. He let out a slow breath. “Fuck, baby, you’re killin’ me here.” And then his hands were on my hips as he eased me off his lap and then took my hand and headed toward the door.

I don’t know what he expected. Did he expect me to act like nothing had happened last night? He certainly wasn’t acting like nothing had happened. He’d been giving me long stares, seemed like he was thinking about things he said before he said them, had been sort of acting like he was treading in uncharted territory with me.

We were both lost.

I didn’t know how to behave tonight. I wasn’t feeling like myself and this was uncharted territory. I guessed I’d just try to blend in and observe and if he was sweet to me in public, I guess I’d try to behave like I was receptive.

* * *

We took a limo a short ride to a restaurant, riding in silence, and we were met by five other couples. I held his arm and was introduced to all of them including Ben and his wife Olive, they were probably late 30s or early 40s. They both looked like accountants and I found it confounding that they were looking for help from ‘wise guys’ to fund a brothel expansion into a sex fetish club.

Leo Denarda was probably in his early 30s (wearing a cheap-looking ill-fitting suit and too much jewelry) and his date, Heather, most definitely looked like a hooker. She probably was one.

I was glad Tommy had me see Suzette today as she’d professionally styled me. If I’d gotten ready myself maybe I’d have been mistaken for an escort. Among the other couples were a good-looking couple just a little older than Tommy and the others were anywhere from a bit older to quite a bit older.

The dinner consisted of pretentious food and plenty of small talk among the women at the table and talk of politics, current events, and sports among the men. Tommy seemed knowledgeable in all of those areas and it was interesting to see him in this element, a business type of thing. I could see that it’d be very possible for him to be a traditional businessman as men he met with could definitely see him that way. This was in stark contrast to Leo Denarda, who was pretty clearly a thug in a not-so-nice suit, but by the way the guy handled himself I didn’t think even Armani would make an iota of a difference.

After the meal, we were all taken together in a stretch SUV limo to see Blue Man Group. We had great seats and the show was unique. Comedic elements, great music. I’d seen them on late night talk shows before and wasn’t sure what to make of them, but I enjoyed the show a lot. My mind was never too far from my troubles, but I think I was handling myself okay outwardly.

When it was all over, Tommy was about to hail us a cab but Ben and another of the men, a good-looking guy in probably his early to mid-30s, John, I couldn’t recall if his wife’s name was Kathy or maybe Katie, I think, but her husband John just kept referring to her as Cupcake so I was thinking of her as Katie Cupcake.

They reminded me a little of Posh Spice and David Beckham. She showed me pictures of their cute kids, six of them, toddlers to tweens, and did a lot of fashion name-dropping in conversation. John nudged him and tried to talk him into attending the club.

As John spoke to him, Tommy looked at me quizzically for a beat and then changed his mind and the next thing I knew we were back in the SUV limo and headed with them: Ben and Olive, John and his wife Katie Cupcake (or whatever), and Leo and Heather. The other couples that had been at dinner and the show had made their way back to their hotels or homes.

I was a little queasy at the idea of attending a strip joint and was very surprised that Katie Cupcake wasn’t being ushered back to her hotel instead of being here with us, but I tried to not let my anxiety show. Tommy was rubbing his thumb across my knuckle rhythmically, maybe reassuringly.

In the limo, the energy started to shift and suddenly Katie Cupcake took her wavy blonde hair down from her updo and licked her lips and then leaned into John and whispered something that was obviously very seductive. A look passed between them that made me feel like a voyeur. It was actually arousing to see them look at one another that way. Tommy leaned into me and whispered into my ear, “You good?”

I nodded.

He let go of my hand, kissed my earlobe, put his arm around me, and then his fingertips skated down my shoulder.

I noticed Olive’s eyes on us. I smiled at her and trained my eyes on the window, watching the lights of Sin City pass by.

The club was dim with strobe lights and had a lot of thrumming bass that I felt in my chest. It looked pretty standard as far as I knew from what I knew about strip joints, which was limited to what I’d seen on TV and in the movies, but it was smoky and packed. We were ushered by a giant of a doorman dressed in a suit through the crowd, past the stage that was littered with poles and cages that all had scantily dressed females on, in, or attached, and down a back hallway and into a theater-like small arena with a stage that had a big screen on the back and heavy black curtains on either side.

Tables filled the floor via several levels pointed at the stage area. The theater was full, except for several small tables, in the center floor area that had been saved with small, ‘reserved’ tabletop signs. Tommy and me, John and Katie Cupcake sat at one table. Olive and Ben sat with Leo and Heather at the adjacent table.

Drinks were brought. Katie Cupcake and I were drinking cosmos, Olive had a Chardonnay, and the guys plus Heather ordered beers. Tommy and John were discussing something about construction, I didn’t really pay attention, they seemed like good friends, very comfortable with one another. I was feeling very uncomfortable about being there. Then again, I’d been feeling uncomfortable in my own skin since we’ve been in Vegas.

The lights went down and then a beautiful sparkle-covered longhaired redheaded woman dressed in a top hat and glittery bodysuit tuxedo, announced it was the end of an intermission. Then there was a couple on the stage dancing this awesomely choreographed number that was a tribute to Dirty Dancing, the big number “Time of my Life.” But then things got odd, because it became glaringly obvious that she, the Baby in the act was actually a she-male and the Patrick Swayze stand-in went down onto his knees and pulled a penis out from under the dress and gave a blowjob. The Patrick Swayze got his pants undone and had no penis and ‘she’ was finger fucking him. So, the Patrick Swayze/ Johnny Castle character had a vagina and the Baby character had a penis., but also with real boobs.

I looked to Tommy, wide-eyed, and he gave me a little shrug with a half a smirk. I couldn’t see the reactions of John or his Katie Cupcake because they were sort of sitting closer to the stage and had turned so we saw their backs, mostly.

I glanced over to the next table to see Leo Denarda was grimacing at Ben. Olive was amused. Leo’s date was watching with rapt attention, chewing gum with her mouth open. The audience evidently approved judging by show of their applause.

The next act consisted of two nude women doing acrobatics from long ribbons that came down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and artistic and dirty. Way dirty. Their boobs defied gravity, were so obviously fake. I spotted Mrs. Katie Cupcake reach and grab her husband’s bulge and then she leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Oh. Okay, then… Mrs. Katie Cupcake Soccer Mom was clearly pretty kinky.

And I was feeling a little bit tipsy. I’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner, wine in the limo, and now had almost a whole Cosmo into me. I was about to break the seal and needed the restroom. As the curtain opened and an upbeat song I didn’t recognize started, I leaned over and whispered to Tommy that I needed the ladies’ room.

Katie Cupcake heard me and piped up with, “Me too!” and she linked arms with me and led me away before Tommy could do more than purse his lips.

“Your fiancé is so tall, dark, and hunky, Tia. I’ve met him several times. I bet he’s a handful in the bedroom,” Katie Cupcake said to me while washing her hands.

She was definitely tipsy, or more than tipsy.

I smirked. “Oh you have no idea…” I almost flashed my throat at her, but changed my mind, logic winning out over my own slight tipsiness.

“I’d like to.” She fluffed up her hair while looking in the mirror and then puckered her lips and put lip gloss on. “You two into group play?” Her eyes darted in my direction.

“Uh, no,” I said flatly, my eyes wide as I tried to de-clump some of my eyelashes with my fingernail.

She shrugged, reached into her purse, and pulled out a little marijuana box-shaped pipe.

“Pity. My Johnny doesn’t mind sharing as long as he can watch. I feel the same. If you change your mind, I bet Olive would be interested, too. She’s had her eye on you all night.” Katie Cupcake took a haul off the pipe and then motioned to offer it to me and I waved my hand. I didn’t need to be high right now. I was having enough trouble holding my alcohol.

I winced at the swap / group sex bit. Olive wasn’t unattractive, if you liked the curvy pin-up shaped accountant type, which many would, but I wasn’t in the least bit bi-curious. What was with this group? Clearly Ben put it together well. Tommy was into kink, too; he’d introduced me to it. Were his dark sexual tendencies common knowledge?

* * *

We walked back to the table amid heavy bass that thumped in my chest, it seemed, and there were fresh drinks there for me and Katie Cupcake. The curtain closed on whatever act was ending, and a moment later rose again.

I recognized the beginning of the song Wicked Game. I knew the Chris Isaak version, but this was arranged a bit differently. This guitar-playing singer sat in the corner in the dark on a stool while he sang and played his acoustic guitar. This acoustic arrangement seemed much more powerful than the version I knew, the singer so very soulful.

A second set of curtains opened and revealed a spotlight-drenched four poster bed that was artfully unmade. A screen behind it played images of a bi-racial couple in a collage that flashed through a slideshow of their life together, living a happy-looking life, walking a Border Collie, eating dinner together, staring into one another’s eyes, and another, snuggled with a bowl of popcorn.

Then another light shone down on the couple themselves. He was a tall and muscular attractive bald Black man with a chin strap beard. He stood on the stage in just a black G-string and towered over her, a petite woman with a blonde pixie haircut dressed in leather pants and a black corset with platform boots. She was the woman in the images, but she looked almost nothing like her. She looked like she’d transformed from kindergarten teacher to Dominatrix.

He had a long braided black leather whip in his hand. I felt sick for a second and then confusion set in as he handed it to her and got down to his knees and bowed into a stretchy yoga-looking pose, his gaze directed at the floor.

She circled him and then lifted his chin with the toe of her boot. He looked up at her lovingly. Then she lifted her chin toward the bed and he climbed on and laid flat on his stomach, spread eagled. She cuffed him to all four posts with handcuffs that were already attached and then proceeded to sweep the whip up and down his body gently. The screen went from pictures of them licking ice cream cones, feeding baby ducks at a pond, riding on a Ferris wheel smiling together, and then zoomed in to a live stream of his face and he was still looking at her lovingly.

Then she pulled the whip back and lashed out, whipping him. I jolted at the sound of the first crack of the whip. And my insides tingled with awareness at the visual. His face was suffused pain. At the sound of the second whip crack, I started to tremble.

But as the soulful-sounding song played on and lamented about love and dreams and feelings and wickedness, his face read like he was lost in it, and enjoying it. Her eyes continued to focus on his face and behind the hardness and Domme persona the love on her face was unmistakable.

My heart was crumbling, watching the scene and listening to those lyrics. It was like tears were sitting right in the middle of my throat. My hand came up to cover my mouth, but then I felt Tommy’s fingers gently around my wrist. He pulled my hand down away from my face and onto his lap and gently rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand. I knew without looking at him that his eyes were not on the stage; they were on me.

As the song hit a series of high notes at the end, the man was untied and they wrapped their arms around one another and lay in the bed and held each other and the screen zoomed in to both of their faces on the bed, both totally at peace, totally in love.

They both got what they needed from that scene.

Then she straddled him and fucked him slow and sweet and as they both cried out their orgasm together, eyes locked with one another, the curtains closed and the applause roared.

The show continued with other acts, but for me that was it, show over; game over. I stared ahead for the next three acts, but I saw nothing. I was just in my own head.

When people clapped, lights came on, and there was no more music I was numb getting to my feet. My legs felt like they were boneless. I couldn’t even look at Tommy. His hand held mine that entire time, squeezing, thumb skating back and forth. I knew his eyes were on me that whole time and strangely, they felt like a blanket covering me, cloaking me.

We said our goodbyes and got into a taxi outside the club as the rest of them were off to have drinks back at Ben and Olive’s. Tommy declined the invite, and Olive got very pouty. Thank God he declined. I’m sure they had some party in mind!

Tommy stood outside the cab while I was in it talking to the other men for a minute and then shook their hands and got in with me. He took my hand in his and kissed it and we rode in total quiet back to the hotel.

After I washed my makeup off, brushed my teeth, and stepped back into the bedroom he immediately asked, “What do you need tonight, baby?”

He’d taken his bowtie, jacket, and shirt off. The shirt was on the bed. I kicked my shoes off and then took my earrings out. My eyes were fixed on the silver chain around his throat. His eyes were fixed on me.

The way he said it made sense. What do you need? Because he got what he needed last night. At least he was trying to reciprocate. I guess.

I thought about it for a minute while he undid his pants, took them off, setting them on the chair beside the bed with his tux jacket. He straightened the waistband of his black boxer briefs.

“I’d like to be alone,” I said softly and met his eyes.

I could see by the shift, the shock on his face, that it probably felt like a slap in the face to him.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, then skimmed his bottom lip with his teeth, and I was sure for a second, he was going to turn on his heel and give me what I wanted, but instead he shook his head.

“No. Not that. I won’t ever sleep somewhere away from you if I can be beside you. I don’t care if I’m mad at you, if you’re mad at me, we sleep beside one another. What can I do to make this better? I know I fucked up last night, I fucked up huge. Tell me how to fix it. Please, baby.”

He took a step toward me. I took a step back. He stopped.

I closed my eyes and sighed and then let the dress fall to the floor before I sat on the bed and pulled his white dress shirt over my head, undid my bra under the shirt and pulled it out one of the armholes, tossing it on the chair with the rest of his clothes. I got under the blankets.

He’d stood there quietly, watching me while I did all that. He got in beside me and pulled me close.

“Baby?” he called.

“What if you can’t fix it?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Please don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that.” His voice was strangled-sounding. “I wanna make love to you. I need to make you feel good. Tell me what I can do to make you whimper for me and put your arms around me because you want to, not because I’ve told you to. Let me show you how much I love you.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin and my throat was so dry. But, I didn’t want to feel good. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t know if there was anything he could do to fix things. How could there be? I wanted to sleep and forget everything I’d seen tonight. Forget everything that had happened last night. Sleep it away, all of it.

His palm swept up from my shoulder to my face until his fingers weaved into my hair near my ear.

“Tia, baby?”

I reached up and fingered his dangling necklace without touching him. He kissed the tip of my nose.

We needed to talk things out and figure this out if we were going to have a future that wasn’t just me pretending to be okay. But I wasn’t ready to talk; I was still processing. I didn’t know if talking would do anything at all, anyway. He was in control. He made the rules. I was just a participant. Willing or not. I didn’t know if I could ever be okay with it. With any of it. But, he was waiting for an answer.

“Just…” My voice caught.

His eyes widened fractionally as he urged me, with his expression, to continue.

“Vanilla,” I whispered, feeling totally and utterly defeated.

He kissed me slow and sweet, exploring my mouth with his tongue and letting his hands drift up and down my body, sending shivers up my spine. He started to undo the tuxedo shirt I was wearing, tonguing an exposed nipple as he exposed the other one.

“Touch me, babe. Please,” he whispered against my skin.

I put my hands on his back and rubbed up and down. His back was so strong. I put my hands on his shoulders. They were big and muscular. He had a lot of muscle. Enough muscle to crush me without even really trying.

My mind drifted to that couple on the stage, about how she, the tiny little woman, wielded power to control a man who could crush her even more easily than Tommy could crush me. In a physical sense, anyway. Tommy could crush me, had crushed me, in other ways just through words and actions. But the tiny blonde had looked at that big, muscled man so lovingly because he gave her what she needed. She controlled him but he controlled her too, through giving her what she needed. And that big strong guy seemed like he wanted to be dominated by her, too; you could see it in his eyes. His face had gone to a state of bliss when she whipped him. It was a quid pro quo thing for them.

Tommy needed this from me, my submission to him. Sometimes he needed it rough and sometimes he gave it to me sweet. I knew I’d wanted rough that day at the farm. I couldn’t forget the release it gave me that day he tied me to the headboard and took my control away so I wouldn’t have to fight anymore. I didn’t know if I could ever crave that again. And if I did crave it, after what’d happened last night, did that mean I had gone over to the dark side, that I was irrevocably broken?

His mouth was on my breast, his tongue toying with my nipple. My hands continued to roam up and down his arms, his back. I thought back to us at the farm and how sweet he was after my playing that hide and seek game with him, because I was giving him what he needed. He’d seemed so happy and carefree that night. And I remembered how exciting it was to run and be caught and how insane it’d driven me when he talked dirty to me during the game. I also thought about when I wanted it to be rough and he wouldn’t be rough with me. He was a control freak. Plain and simple.

Right now, he was trying to be sweet but we both knew my heart wasn’t in it. My hands rose to his hair as he continued to kiss and tongue my breasts and I felt the chain around his neck touch my skin. I sucked my lower lip in and had a thought.

I needed to change the tone of this situation. I couldn’t handle this sweet business right now. The only way I could get through this right now was if it were just a game. A game where I could get release, release from the prison I felt like my brain was in. Would it help?

I quickly bucked until he was off me enough for me to get out of the bed. He looked at me, first confused, and then his expression started to drop. I backed away from him slowly and then gave him a smile and waved my finger and tsk tsk’d at him.

“Tia?” He tilted his head at me.

“The only way you get to fuck me tonight, Tommy Ferrano, is if you can catch me.”

Shock flashed on his face. I gave him a big, dazzling, maybe phony-looking smile and then I bolted into the closest bathroom, the Hers bathroom, locking the door.

My heart was racing. I could do this. I could play a game tonight. Granted, it wasn’t very creative, but it seemed to distract me from the emotions whirling around in my brain, if only temporarily. If I played a game maybe the tone would stay where I could handle it. I was wet with anticipation. I pushed away my “What the fuck?” thoughts.

A few seconds later, I heard the doorknob jiggle and then it went silent. I stood there, heart racing, almost panting with anticipation. I waited. Then I heard a tinny scratchy sound. Was he picking the lock? I braced myself.

Approximately 4.5 seconds later the door swung open and he was standing there with this intense look on his face, his eyes lit with something dangerous. I’m sure I was standing there, wild-eyed, too. I had his white tuxedo shirt on, with just the bottom few buttons done up and my hair must’ve looked like it’d been in a windstorm.

He was naked and his erection should’ve been allocated its own zip code. He leaned on the door frame and folded his arms, “You’re not very good at this game, are you? Where do you think you’re gonna go from here?”

I summoned my inner vixen and shrugged at him. “Maybe I wanted to be easy to catch.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to try to lock me out?” He was trying to be serious, but failing. He gave me a smirk. I smirked back. Then he tried to look serious. So I tried to look serious, too.

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and looked at him for a second, then shrugged and said, “Do you think you need to maybe teach me a lesson for that?”

He grinned at me. “Damn straight. But you made it too easy.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’ve got a surprise attack planned.”

His eyes went cold. “A what?”

Whoa; a bucket of ice-cold water might as well have been dumped on my libido and my smugness right then and there. Not the right answer given the state of our relationship the past few days. I shook my head frantically, needing desperately to backpedal.

“I didn’t mean anything violent… I meant…”

He closed the distance between us and was right up against me, making me gasp in surprise. His lips crashed into mine and then he said against them. “Drop the fucking act.”

My heart was thudding wildly.

“Just drop it,” he whispered. He then had my bottom lip between his teeth and he let out a sound of pleasure that reverberated through my whole body.

I couldn’t be a player; I was going to lose. He was totally in control here right now. I sucked at this.

“Who do you belong to, Athena?” His mouth was by my ear.

Fuck. Shit. My blood ran cold.

He moved back an inch or two and looked down at me. I looked up into his eyes and he looked so sexy, red fucking hot with lust.

“Who?” he demanded.

It felt like all the air left my lungs and then like something inside of me snapped, like an elastic band pulled too far.

“You,” I said and a huge weight vanished off my shoulders. Vanished.

Then it was like a bomb went off in that bathroom. He hiked me up onto the vanity and violently tore my underwear down my hips and off of me, and then he plunged his cock deep into me, one hand on my lower back and the other braced against the mirror. Bottles, hair tools, and cosmetics tumbled onto the floor and something splashed into the toilet. Something glass smashed. He didn’t stop. He didn’t take his eyes off mine. He was, clearly, completely thrilled with that declaration.

I wrapped my legs around him, dug my nails into his back, and he let out this primal sound, almost like a growl. He let go of the mirror and had a fistful of my hair in his hand. I squealed in both surprise and pain as desire surged through me.

He stopped and looked at me for a beat, breathless, then moved a few times in and out of me. I bit hard on my bottom lip, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

He lifted me and then we tumbled to the floor in the midst of curling and flat irons, hairbrushes, a broken glass bottle of facial cleanser, broken plastic blush case with chunks of blush powder all over the place, that he shoved aside. And then my legs were up and over his shoulders. As I pulled the prickly round hair brush out from under my lower back and tossed it out of the way, he started to pound the fuck out of me on that bathroom floor.

“Don’t stop,” I pleaded and that must’ve supremely pleased him as he didn’t.

He went harder, he went faster; he pounded and pounded. And I received every single connection of our bodies with a grateful grunt and nails that dug into his backside.

Suddenly, I was up and he was carrying me toward the bed. We didn’t make it. A few steps later, I was against the wall, impaled on him, my fingers in his hair. We were sweaty and grunting like wild animals and I knew I’d have crazy sex bruises and make-up smears all over my body tomorrow. So would he.

“Love you so fucking much,” he grunted.

I was drunk on him; he was my oxygen. He fucked me slow but hard, with power, against that wall and then moved us and put me on my back on the bed. He kept going, speeding up his thrusts and with so much force that there were veins popping on his neck and his forehead.

“Tommy,” I gasped.

He pulled out and got me on all fours on the bed. He put one hand around my throat and the fingers from the other got me by the clit. As he drove into me, he twisted his fingers around below until I was trying to crawl away to get away from the intensity of it, screaming out, and then I was hanging off the bed, my butt in the air, my nails clawing at the rug, him now holding my hip with one hand, circling my clit with his other, and fucking me hard. So hard.

I came hard, whimpering, “I love you, too.” as I cried out into the bed’s dust ruffle.

I told him I loved him? What the fuck?

I can’t believe I said that to him. I’d never said that to Nick, not to the few guys I’d dated before, either. Did I love him?

Did I?

I loved elements of him, but could I love all of him?

Was my emotional outburst really about being relieved that my experiment had seemed to bring about the result I’d hoped for, sort of, that even though it kind of backfired a little, that I’d pulled a reaction out of him that told me that maybe I could get and keep this under control? Me, in control, controlling the control freak by knowing how to handle him, what to give him.

Or was I so relieved that I could do this because I did love him? I loved the possibilities of being in love, the moments of sweet, the fierce protection he’d shown me. I didn’t know. I just didn’t fucking know.

He grunted my name and came inside of me, and we were both breathless. He pulled me back up onto the bed. Me on my belly, him laying on my back and then after a minute of kissing me all over my shoulders and the back of my neck, he rolled and took me with him so my back was against his front and kissed me on the earlobe.

“I love you, baby girl. You have no fucking clue how much. You mean everything to me. Everything.”

I glanced back at him and his eyes were closed, but there was this look of bliss on his face. Pure bliss. The look on his face crushed me, sent emotion through me that I’d never felt. I squirmed in tight against him, letting him comfort me and hold me. I closed my eyes and heard that poignant chorus in my mind.

I… don’t wanna fall in love… with you.

But I was pretty sure it was too late. He had me. Fucked up as it was, I’d fallen. And it might very well be the demise of me.

I woke up to see Tia sitting in a chair, staring out the window. She was wrapped in the thick hotel robe, her knees up against her chest and her hands around a steaming mug. She was blowing into the cup but staring out the window, looking deep in thought.

I watched her for a long time before she glanced in my direction. When she did, there was a flash of something. Was it regret? Was it fear? It punched me right in the gut, but then it disappeared, and she got a shy little smile on her face.

Was she putting on a mask for me or was she just torn up inside with conflicting emotions just like me?

I smiled and opened my arms wide for her. She took a sip, put the cup down on the table beside her, and then climbed up onto the bottom of the bed and crawled from the end of the bed toward me slowly, the sexy little smile growing bigger the closer she got. I’d opened my arms wanting to hold her close and snuggle her tight but okay, I could deal with this, too.

She climbed up my body and pulled the blankets down past my hips with a sultry look on her face and then took my cock in her hand and made sure it was good and awake, before she guided me inside herself. She undid her robe and threw it back. She was still wearing my shirt from last night and only the bottom button was done up. I groaned and undid it and then pushed it off her shoulders.

She closed her eyes and her lips parted as she took me deeper and then when she got me in balls deep, she clasped my wrists, pinning them above my head while rotating her hips with me inside of her. I let out a little chuckle and she tightened her grip on my wrists and gave me this little warning look but then wrinkled her nose at me before she continued with eyes closed. I watched as she got lost in sensation. Her gorgeous tits were over my face, so I tongued a nipple. Seeing her like this was a beautiful thing to watch. A few moments later her breathing got shallow as I’d gotten an arm free and was toying with her clit while she continued to take my cock.

She tightened around me and began to tremble. She shuddered through her climax until she collapsed onto me, her mouth against my earlobe, her warm minty mingled with fresh coffee breath warming my face. I turned over, putting her onto her back and took myself home with slow and deep movements, letting the inside of her stroke me until I fell apart.

Right as I was groaning out an, “Oh, baby” my phone started to ring. I finished and then I flopped onto my back beside her, ignoring it, catching my breath.

Fuck, that had been beautiful.

She curled into me and put her hand and cheek on my chest. I got lost in thought for a bit, about last night, the best sex I’d had in my life, about the last few days, and about this morning, her being so bold and taking what she wanted from me like this. It was fucking sexy that she’d climb onto me and fuck me. I loved it.

I didn’t know whether she was being a chameleon and just trying to blend into her reality or if she’d started out playacting but was now morphing into who she needed to be for me. Whatever it was, it felt real. Her words last night undid me. She kept undoing me. I didn’t know if we were both just evolving into who we wanted to be for one another. Maybe that was the closest way to describe it. Both of us struggling through this, waiting to see where our emotions would take us, trying to figure out how to be who we were and what the other needed at the same time.

It wasn’t like me to be all fucking philosophical, I just knew I loved her, I wanted her, and that when she said she loved me after everything she’d been through because of me, it was like those three words ripped a layer of darkness that’d been around my heart and soul off like a Band-Aid. How many layers were left was something that, I supposed, remained to be seen.

Another ding of the phone made me realize I had to get out of bed and get on with the reason I was here. We were heading back home this afternoon. I needed to talk to Pop and then go see Goldberg and see what his decision was.

I didn’t know how he’d take the news that the Ferranos as well as John Lewis, would not get involved in his project if Leo Denarda was even remotely a part of it.

We’d talked just briefly before I got in the cab last night and the three of us were meeting for lunch at John’s hotel. If Goldberg opted to work with just us and turfed Denarda out, I had a pretty good idea how Denarda would take it and it’d probably mean another step-up in security.

The smarmy goof had been leering at Tia last night instead of his skanky date and we’d already had a showdown of sorts where he puffed up his chest when I’d given him a look. If it weren’t for the fact that his sick uncle is an important man down here, he’d not even be at these meetings. Goldberg fucked up by even involving that crew. The guy would’ve been smarter just coming to us. But it was a timing issue, too. When the uncle croaked, there’d be a power play in Vegas and it wouldn’t take long for Denarda to be out. Problem was that the uncle had been on his death bed for almost a year, not getting better but not kicking the bucket, either.

I talked to Pop on the phone in the other room while she took a bath and then when I was done I got in with her. She had the jets on and had her eyes closed.

I got in and she immediately started to scrub my back. When she was done, I leaned back against her chest and tilted my head back and looked up at her. We didn’t talk, but her eyes said so much. If I was reading them right they said she and I were opening a new page, starting a new chapter.

I wanted to say so much to her, but right now I didn’t have the words, so I just let her scrub my chest and then I reached down and pulled her calves up so that her legs were wrapped around my stomach. I massaged her feet and we just hung out for a while in the bubbles, not talking, just touching and cuddling and looking at each other, just being.

It felt beautiful; it felt right. I never wanted to hurt her again; I felt bone-deep remorse over what I’d done the other night. I just prayed she was okay, really okay.

Tommy left for a meeting as I ordered some soup and a sandwich from room service. He said he’d be back in a few hours and would take me gambling before our flight, which was at eight o’clock. I packed up our stuff and I stared at the TV, but was lost in thought until he got back.

Vegas had been enlightening, to say the least. I was curious about whether or not having me see that specific act last night was intentional or whether it’d been a coincidence. Whatever the case was, I guess it happened for a reason. I was just taking things minute by minute, breath by breath. I had strong feelings for him. I felt love, I felt fear, I felt dread, but I also had hope.

When he walked back in, he was smiling, had a spring in his step. “Let’s go show you why they call it Lost Wages.”

* * *

The ringing of the slot machines and the buzz of excitement: people and glasses tinkling were overwhelming at first. But before long I probably had dollar signs in my eyes because the slot machines were fun and addicting. But I kept complaining that I sucked at it. I don’t know how many twenties Tommy had fed in, probably seven or eight, maybe more. It felt bad because it felt like I was flushing his money down the toilet.

He didn’t gamble, he just hung out and watched and followed me from machine to machine. When I’d cashed out of a machine and then saw it pay out right afterwards with a thousand quarters to some old lady with a blue hair rinse, I decided I wasn’t moving again until I won, or until we had to leave to catch our flight, whichever came first.

“Cash out, baby. This machine is shit.”

He said this after I let him feed two twenties into it and was down to nine quarters left without going up more than once or twice.

“One more pull.”

“You don’t have to pull, you know; you can just hit the button.”

“I like to pull.” I wrinkled my nose and glanced up at him and he was smirking. I smirked back.

“Tia, this is getting a little like fishing.”

“I’m not catching anything, though.”

“No, but remember what I had to do to get you away from that pond?”

“You’d seriously carry me out of this casino over your shoulder?”

“What do you think?”

He was serious.

“This machine is lucky. It’s pink, like my fishing rod. I’m gonna win.” I reached up and pulled the tall chrome lever again and stuck my tongue out at him and it started dinging and lights started flashing. I won five thousand dollars. Not five thousand quarters, dollars!

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, “Told ya so, told ya so!”

He shook his head and laughed simultaneously while I jumped up and down. There was a guy, early twenties, beside me and he raised his hand up for a high five. I gave him a smack of my palm and looked to Tommy.

“Lost Wages my ass!” I declared and did a little twirly dance, probably looked ridiculous, but did not care. He shook his head in astonishment and then leaned over and kissed me.

“Sticking your tongue out at me is a spankable offence, Missy. Watch it.” He said against my lips and then winked.

“Why do you think I did it?” I winked back and his face split into a huge grin.

* * *

He slept on the flight home, holding my hand the entire time. I watched the in-flight movie. We travelled without James and Nino as Tommy had said they had an errand to run for him locally and would be flying back tomorrow.

I tried to give him the five grand, but he looked at me like I’d lost the plot. I was actually surprised they never asked for my ID in the casino.

“But you paid for everything on the trip,” I reasoned.

“So what? I’m not taking your money, Tia.”

“You’re too old-fashioned for your own good,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes at me. “Well, a leopard can’t change his spots, babe. Put it in your underwear drawer when we get home; save it for a rainy day.”

“Well maybe I’ll just buy you a present with it then,” I challenged, thinking that he’d dropped the leopard and spots cliché for a reason far beyond the five-thousand, but I was trying to avoid focusing on that statement. Was letting me hold onto enough money to get away from him another test? Or was he trying to show me trust?

“Yeah, well, I won’t stop you.” He shrugged.

I gave him a big hug. It felt so light and jovial that day and I was deeply grateful for that as it was helping me cope. Denial was helping me cope, too, but I figured I’d take whatever help I could get!