Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Freedom Mansion
Shay
Blythe is in America. She is in Freedom.
I hold tighter onto my Robyn’s hand, as we wander through the quiet, luxurious corridors of Freedom Mansion.
It’s Monday morning, and we have an hour left before I need to leave for practice.
I try to keep my breathing steady.
It’s bloody hard.
Yet I’m here with the woman who means everything to me. She’s never taken a belt to me or told me that I’m too much. She only ties me up to ride me to the best orgasms of my life like she did yesterday morning.
Plus, on Saturday she watched me from the front row as I danced, as if I wasn’t even wearing a mask.
As if she saw me more clearly than anyone had before and she loved every flawed bloody part of me.
I could have knelt right there in front of everyone for her.
Dancing as D’Angelo’s — Lucifer’s — dark familiar, stripped bare but freed to be myself behind my mask, was the best experience of my life.
I was made to feel worth the world, rather than worthless.
D’Angelo is the best dirty talker I know but he doesn’t need words. He can make me feel seven inches taller (as tall as everyone else on the rink), with a single look.
On the stage, I didn’t need to be any size other than I am.
For the first time, I was entirely comfortable in my own bare skin.
Yet as soon as we got home together (and this place has become my home), Robyn told me what Garcia had told her.
Then my world shattered.
D’Angelo’s expression darkened. “I’m calling security. That bitch. I warned her what would happen if she dared to come close to you again.”
I’d never heard him sound like that. He was transformed by a protective rage. My cheeks pinked that it was for me.
Robyn rested her hand on D’Angelo’s arm. “Don’t turn all Eden on me. You know how we’re going to have to restrain his Rambo turned arsonist impulses when we tell him.”
D’Angelo took a deep breath. “You don’t understand.
I underestimated how dangerous Blythe is.
I thought that I could control her like I have other abusive doms through blacklisting and bans.
She’s spun into a narcissistic rage, however, and joined up with other people in our lives who want to hurt us. Now, she’s hiding behind the Misfits.”
“Garcia discovered that not only is she behind KillaStar,” Robyn replied, “but KillaStar is likely responsible for the butt plug incident on the ice, which injured Shay and lost us the game. She probably used the betting as a cover. If you get Garcia to investigate who ordered those dead roses, as well as that creepy Valentine’s card, then I bet that he’ll find a link to KillAStar. ”
“Has she contacted you directly?” D’Angelo held my gaze.
I froze.
This was it: The moment that I’d feared ever since Blythe sent me her first message.
I didn’t reply.
I couldn’t.
What if D’Angelo tossed me out? Finally saw through my mask to the trash that I am? Abandoned both Eden and me because I fucked up?
I’d kept secrets, hiding Blythe’s orders and punishments.
Written on myself for her.
I deserved to be rejected. But I’d still bloody break.
I hunched my shoulders, unable to speak.
My throat was too tight.
Was this how my brother felt all the time?
I hated it.
I ducked my head, allowing my hair to fall over my face.
Unable to speak, I shook my head.
Frowning, D’Angelo strode to me and grabbed me by the chin, pulling my head up.
He peered into my face.
He had to be able to see my guilt.
I couldn’t breathe. My hands clenched at my sides.
Would he shout? Hit me? Throw me out into the garden for the night?
“All right.” D’Angelo scrutinized me. “Just know that you can tell me anything, cucciolo. You’re not alone in this. No matter what Blythe has tried to make you think, you’re safe now.”
Except, are any of us safe?
I glance at Robyn, as she drags me enthusiastically down the corridor.
She is dressed in a cobalt blue satin dress that falls over her bloody gorgeous curves.
She looks stunning.
I wish that I’d pulled on something better than my simple red t-shirt and joggers, but Eden had me working out in the gym with him this morning.
The mansion’s gym is incredible. How have I got so lucky that my boyfriend’s house has a home gym, which is better than the college one that Eden and I used to clean in order to be allowed to work out in it for free?
“How many bedrooms does one man need?” Robyn pushes another door open to reveal a pretty turquoise bedroom. “I bet D’Angelo has never even been in here.”
“Then we should christen it,” I offer.
Robyn slams the door. “I want to explore more. I kind of feel that we’re going to find a hidden enchanted rose or something.”
“Our Beast has been keeping this wing quiet. Bloody hell, I never thought that I would be living somewhere with wings.”
“We are being kept captive by our Beast too.” Robyn pulls out of my grip, walking faster down the corridor.
“He’s gone into some kind of uber protective mode.
Did you see the extra security that he’s hired outside the gates?
You’re going to feel like a Hollywood star with all your bodyguards ferrying you back and forth from the rink.
D’Angelo doesn’t even want us going into the mansion’s grounds. ”
I hurry after Robyn, as guilt makes my guts churn.
This is my fault.
They’re all having their lives turned upside down because of Blythe.
What the bloody hell does Blythe want from me?
She didn’t want me before. Surely, she can’t want me back.
Or is this like the ace of hearts: All about punishment?
Is she angry because I’m a success now? Because D’Angelo has stopped her from treating anyone else like she did me?
I made the decision to stop responding to her. But has that just made things worse for everyone?
Would she truly injure me? Kill me?
I love you to death,
And I’m coming for you…
I shudder, stuffing my hands into my pockets against the cool of the morning. “He’s doing the right thing. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you, love. I won’t let you be hurt.”
Surprised, Robyn glances over her shoulder at me. “I won’t let her hurt you either. I may not be violently obsessive, know how to write creepy as fuck poetry, or be able to hurl sex toys with frightening accuracy, but I will still kick Blythe’s ass if she continues to harass you.”
Instantly, I feel lighter.
My phone is heavy in my pocket with Blythe’s ace of heart’s emoji that she sent this morning.
But I am determined to ignore it.
Saturday night showed me what willing submission truly feels like, and I never want to be forced under someone’s control again.
Fuck Blythe.
I am in this together with my lovers.
I sprint to catch up with Robyn. “Why do we even need the bodyguards with the guns, when I have you, love?”
Robyn wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest. “I may be small but I am mighty.”
“The best PR Director in the NHL since you cope with us.”
What can I get this amazing woman for Valentine’s that shows her what she means to me? I want to show her that it’s not only on a single day of the year that I love her, am thinking of her, adore her.
I worship her every day.
“Definitely not being paid enough.” Robyn looks up at me. “But there are other benefits.”
She pushes herself up on her tiptoes to kiss me.
Then she pulls away from me, diving toward a large oak door.
“Let’s try this one. We have one hour left.
D’Angelo and Eden are busy cleaning the playroom together.
It’s their DIY project that just happens to include floggers and Eden’s self-empowerment.
They’re keeping it this mysterious secret.
So, we need to christen at least one room.
It’s our duty, and I take those seriously. ”
“Well, if it’s my duty.” I stroll after her. “I’m committed.”
Robyn places her hand on the door handle, and I reach mine to place over hers.
We grin at each other.
Then we turn the handle at the same time and push open the door.
Instantly, all fear and thoughts of Blythe are driven from my head in my excitement.
“A games room,” I gasp. I rush into the room.
“He even has a pinball machine. Hey, a dartboard. I always wanted to become good at darts. Sometimes, I played it, when I was down the pub with my college mates. Eden never came with me. I bet that he’d be brilliant at it.
You need a type of single-minded focus that I don’t have but he does.
He’ll love this. Bloody hell, look at this place. ”
Warm light streams through floor to ceiling windows that are framed by navy drapes. Blue and white striped couches are pushed against the walls. A small bar with spirit bottles and crystal glasses gleams in the far corner.
In the center proudly stands a large blue snooker table.
Blown up photographs of birds, stags, and robins — the animals and birds in the forest that surround the mansion — are hung around the walls.
The sides of the room are filled with every toy that I wished I could play with but never had the money to as a teenager: arcade games, air hockey, and table tennis.
It’s overwhelming in the best way.
I’ve won the bloody lottery.
I itch to play every one of them with Eden.
I bound around the room, touching, poking, and messing with each item because D’Angelo isn’t here to stop me.
Robyn only watches me with a fond smile.
“The only time that I’ve been in a room like this,” I run my hand over the pinball machine, “I was serving drinks.”
“Were you working as a server at an event?”