Chapter 7
WHITNEY
It’s been one week since the bath where, for a brief moment, I thought I could convince myself he might choose me over the Ravens.
But I know he won’t.
And I can’t figure out a way to murder Harrison on my own. I can’t get to him. I don’t know how to reach him without Dane knowing. I can’t trust Dane not to turn me over to the Council for murdering Gerald, so I can’t ask him to help me murder a member of the fucking Council.
Which is hypocritical bullshit since I know Dane has been responsible for an unknown number of deaths at the hands of the Ravens. It’s just another example of the double standards for men and women within our world.
With no other choice left, I’ve spent the last several days betraying my husband. And I fucking hate myself. I meant what I said—a part of me hates Dane, too. I don’t hate that I killed Gerald, but I hate that these pricks hold control over mine and Sloane’s lives.
It’s comical really that I’m losing sleep from lying to Dane.
I fucking murdered my last husband, and I sleep just fine.
My vibrator got a lot of use watching him slowly die, and I reveled in the power I had to write my own path forward.
Now the risk of disappointing Dane Sinclair is what’s going to fucking break me.
As much as I might have feelings for Dane, nothing is more important than keeping my daughter safe.
So here I am, standing in Dane’s office while he’s gone to a Council meeting.
This is the eighth time I’ve snooped in here this past week. I started small—testing to see if he’d notice. For the first two times, I just came in here and pretended to look for a book. When Dane didn’t mention it, I hoped if I kept my visits short, he wouldn’t think anything about it.
I know he has cameras. So I’ve been careful, and I always have an excuse if he should find me in here.
I come in for ten minutes at most. I pretend to shop on his computer while I’m actually going through his files.
So far, I’ve found account numbers for three offshore banks in the Cayman Islands and confidential files on each of the many Talons that Dane has the authority to deploy when needed.
I wasn’t able to open all the files I’ve sent to Harrison.
He can figure it out. I just want this to be done.
It will hopefully be enough to get Harrison off my ass and put this mess behind us. The asshole hasn’t bothered to respond to me yet, so I keep digging for more.
Dane won’t be home for at least another hour. The login information for one of his Cayman accounts is on the screen in front of me. Three hundred million dollars just sitting there, and that’s only one of the accounts. I take a photo with my phone.
The torture of betraying Dane this way is becoming unbearable. If I didn’t find ways to make him rough with me, I don’t think I’d survive it. I’ve been nothing but a brat to provoke him.
The worst part is that the more I make him punish me, the more affectionate he is afterward. For the man he is in front of everyone else, it’s a whole different side of him I’m certain no one has ever seen.
And I’m fucking addicted to him.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m in love, obsessed, and ready to burn the fucking world down for him. And I know he doesn’t feel the same.
So, I’m destroying any chance of happiness because of my past bullshit. Every single time I come into this office, I’m only making things worse. And if he finds out, who knows what he’ll do to me.
Every day I pay my penance by making him punish me. It’s the only thing that makes the guilt and fear of losing him bearable for a few hours.
He doesn’t know that every time he makes me scream his name, I’m silently begging for forgiveness I don’t deserve.
I close the financial files and pull up a shopping website, just in case. I let a few minutes pass, actually browsing through designer handbags so it looks legitimate in case he’s watching or checking my account.
After I purchase a bag I don’t give a fuck about, I close the laptop.
“Did you buy yourself something nice?”
I drop my phone. It hits the hardwood floor with a crack, and I go completely still when I see Dane.
He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He’s still wearing the suit he left in an hour ago. His expression is perfectly calm.
I’m shaking so hard my knees almost give out.
“I thought you were at the Council meeting.” My voice comes out shaky.
“I know you did.” He pushes off the doorframe and walks into the room. His steps are slow and controlled. “That was the point. I never went to the meeting, Whitney. I’ve been watching you on the cameras this entire time.”
Of course he has. Because I’m an idiot who thought I could spy on Dane fucking Sinclair.
“I wanted to see how far you’d go.” He stops a few feet away from me. “Turns out, you’ll go pretty fucking far.”
I’m frozen in place with my phone on the floor between us. My brain screams at me to run, to lie, to do something. But I can’t move.
“I can explain—”
“Can you?” He bends down and picks up my phone and sets it on his desk. The screen is cracked. “Please. Explain why my wife is in my office every time she thinks I’m not watching, accessing my computer, taking photos of my files.”
“I was just shopping—”
“Don’t do that.” His voice is sharp. “Don’t insult me by lying right now. I’ve been watching you the whole time.”
“Dane—”
“Say it.” His voice is deadly quiet. “Say the bastard’s name. Tell me who you’ve been spying for.”
I press my lips together.
“Say it, Whitney. Tell me who you’re fucking me over for.” He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him. “And don’t make me ask you again.”
“I can’t. It’s almost done, and then we can put this behind us.”
He scoffs. “Don’t give me that shit. You make me fucking care about you and you do this? You’re a damn good actress, I’ll give you that. This is exactly why feelings don’t have a place in our world. It’s all about power and control. And that’s where I’ll always win.”
The words hurt worse than I want him to know.
“Please.” I’m crying now. “I wasn’t pretending with you. You must believe me. I never wanted this to happen.”
Dane lowers his head and presses his lips to mine. The kiss makes me dizzy, and I sag against him. When he pulls away, his green eyes lock onto mine.
“Who are you sending the information to? Last chance.”
I clutch the collar of his button-up shirt. “Dane, please. I can’t. Just leave this alone.”
I’m mentally willing him to understand. To trust me when I’ve given him no reason to. Especially when I don’t trust him either.
I can’t trust that he won’t go to the Council, which would put Sloane at risk. If there’s one thing I know he’d understand, it’s the need to do anything to protect my daughter. Even if it means losing the only man who’s ever made me feel this way.
“Wrong fucking answer.”
“Dane, I don’t have a choice—”
“There’s always a choice. And you chose wrong. You’ve lied to me since the first night of our marriage and proven that I can’t fucking trust you, Whitney. I promise you would have fared better having me on your side than against you.”
“Please.” The word breaks out of me while panic builds in my chest. “Please just punish me, Dane.”
I’m desperate for it, desperate for the pain that will make the guilt stop. “Tie me up. Spank me. Choke me. Use me however you want. Fuck my ass until it hurts. I deserve it. I deserve to be punished.”
“You want me to tie you to the bed and use every one of your holes?” His voice is bitter, and then he grabs my throat. “You want me to spank your ass until you’re crying? Make you beg for my cock? Then you want me to hold you and treat you like my good little wife?”
“Yes. Please. I need—”
“No.”
That single word makes my chest tighten. He’s refusing me. He knows I need him, and he’s denying me the only thing that helps make any of this better.
This is going to be so much worse than anything he’s done before.
“I’m going to fucking punish you, but I’m not going to give you what you want.” He releases my throat and steps back. “Strip.”
“What?”
“Take off your goddamn clothes, Whitney. Now.”
My hands shake as I pull off my shirt, then unhook my bra and drop it on the floor. I slide my pants and panties down my legs. When I’m naked, I stand there and wait for whatever comes next.
But instead of advancing on me, he just looks at me. His jaw is tight. His hands curl into fists at his sides. I can see he’s fighting what he really wants to say, and it breaks me. That’s the worst punishment—knowing that I’ve hurt him. That it’s even possible to hurt Dane Sinclair.
“Sit in that chair.” He points to the leather chair in the corner. “Spread your legs over the arms.”
I do what he says, waiting for him to call me out for how wet I am. I’m still just as fucked up and obsessed with my husband, even if he fucking hates me. My thighs hang over the leather arms, and I wait for him as he fumbles around in one of his desk drawers.
Then he’s in front of me, tying my arms and legs in place so that I can’t move. The ropes cutting into my wrists almost soothe some of the emotional pain.
He kneels in front of me and pushes a vibrator inside my pussy. It’s thick and fills me completely. When it’s seated deep, he stands and holds up the remote.
“Since you want me to punish you and fuck you until I allow you to come, I’m going to skip to the end.
” His voice is colder and crueler than he’s ever been with me, and the tears are now running down my cheeks.
“You’re going to come, Whitney. Over and over until it fucking hurts.
And then you’re going to come ten more times after that. ”
He presses a button on the remote.
The vibrator comes to life inside me with strong, pulsing vibrations that make me moan immediately.
“That’s it, my dear wife.” He practically snarls the last word. “Let’s get this first one over quickly.”