Chapter 7 #3
“First of all, punching the head of the family in the nose would get me killed,” I say, trying to make a joke. It falls flat. She’s still crying. Then I tell the truth. My voice is soft as I hold her shoulders. “Second, he was right. He said he had concerns about you following through.”
“That bastard—”
“There’s my little tiger. I was wondering when her fire would come back.”
I put my hand on her still bared ass, squeezing gently. It’s warm to the touch. I say, “Careful, baby.”
She winces. “Sorry. But he’s wrong! I did everything that was asked of me. I followed through with the security clearance. I signed all the documents. I’ve upheld my pledge to keep everything secret—”
I press my hands into her shoulders again, this time steadying her. I search her face until I hold her gaze. Locking my eyes on her, I say, “But you didn’t follow through when it came to the lifestyle. Sure, you’ve adopted all the Bachman ways… save for one.”
She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. Her bottom lip trembles. She doesn’t want to say the word. I find her stubbornness so adorable, I almost smile. My face quickly falls as I remember her stubbornness could be what ends us.
Finally, she looks away and whispers, “Submission?”
After what we’ve been through, I’ll take what I can get for a starting point. I lower my voice, softly say, “That’s right. And to live the Bachman way, you must live it fully.”
She says, “I was so angry that night. When you told me you’d asked Bronson’s permission, and he didn’t want me. I spun out of control. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that he didn’t want you. He was just afraid of—”
Before I can finish, she looks up, eyes locked on mine. They’re red from crying. There are dark circles beneath them. But within those captivating irises, I recognize a flash of that famous Sasha determination that I love so much.
She says, “I accept the ways of the Bachman women.”
My heart stops. My fingers clutch around her shoulders, holding her as if I’m afraid she’ll change her mind. Run off.
“Sasha—”
She straightens her spine. She lets go of my shirt; her hands go to my waist. Her eyes are clear now, even through the tears.
“I kept thinking submission meant becoming smaller. But you have never asked me to be less intelligent, less ambitious, less loud, or less Sasha. You’re asking me to trust you with the places where I don’t have to fight every second.
” She draws a shaky breath. “And I want that. Not because I’ll lose you if I don’t.
Because I finally understand why I want it.
I want the wedding, the future, the Village—and I want to choose all of it with my eyes open.
You’ll have to be patient with me. I’m going to get it wrong sometimes. But please, let me try.”
I cup the back of her neck. “And I don’t want a quieter Sasha. I don’t want an easier one. I want you. My job is to know the difference between protecting you and controlling you, and if I forget, I expect you to remind me before I become a man unworthy of what you give me.”
Her eyes are holding mine, begging me. Her hands tighten on my torso.
I’m going to miss my flight. My stomach is in knots. My heart is on fire for her. My mind is cloudy, and I can’t focus on anything but her beautiful, tearstained face and the way it feels to have her fingers touching me.
She’s my baby. She’s my baby girl.
And I’m lost without her. I read her expression and everything in it tells me what I need to know; she’s finally ready.
I take her face in my hands. Her eyes close, her chin tilts toward me.
But I can’t kiss her. Not yet.
My hands drop from her face.
She looks at me, confused. I untangle myself from her.
I leave her standing there, her pants still rolled underneath her punished ass.
I walk around behind the desk. I open the drawer.
Hope wells in my chest at the sight of the sparkling diamond.
I pick up her ring. It feels cold in my hand. The metal is warm when she wears it.
I’ve kept it here since our breakup—not bearing to have it at home, but not yet willing to admit it was truly over and time to sell it back to Bronson.
I hold it up. It catches the light. She gives a small gasp at the sight of it, her hands covering her mouth.
I take her left ring finger in my hand. I say, “Sasha Lazio, would you do me the honor of entering into a truly Bachman engagement with me?”
She bites her bottom lip. She’s nervous, but she’s going to do this. “Yes.”
I slip the ring on her finger. She’s smiling, her eyes shining.
I’m not going to kiss her, not yet.
I reach around her bottom. I pull her pants up and snap them into place.
I grab her hand and pull her toward the door of my office.
I grab my workbag from the hook and sling it over my shoulder.
I flash her a smile and ask her if she’s ready.
Her face is a mask of confusion as she stutters, “I guess?”
I move my hand, making our fingers interlock. Her ring presses into my skin and I breathe deeply, contentment filling me. People look at us as we leave the gym. She’s sniffling and smiling and I’m grinning ear to ear.
We have much to discuss.