Chapter 9
DAMIANO
I use a tissue to clean most of the sticky mess from my stomach, then get up for a shower.
I knew Seth would come around. Although it sounds like Madison might have done some topping from the bottom.
If we want a true D/s dynamic, that’s something we can work on later.
Although, I am a flexible Dom. I love the control.
I love calling the shots, as Americans say.
But I am more interested in pleasure, however that may happen.
A couple hours later, I’m dozing on my couch when Seth lets himself into my apartment.
He takes one look at me and shakes his head. “Did you set me up?”
“You mean, did I get into a car accident so that I could have a doctor’s note to avoid the baseball game where I’d booked a private box for Madison and myself, so that I wouldn’t have to spend time with her, and you would?”
“Fuck. When you say it like that…” Seth stomps into the kitchen. He emerges a moment later, beer in hand.
“You at least had fun,” I point out.
“Kyle wouldn’t have wanted this.” He shakes his head. “He was madly in love with her. Possessive. Jealous when other guys looked at her.”
“And?”
“And maybe he could’ve understood her moving on after he died. But with his brother?”
If Seth didn’t look so disgusted with himself, I’d probably hit him.
“Kyle is gone,” I say slowly, patiently. “He doesn’t get a say in what happens to Madison. He doesn’t get to be jealous—”
“And that’s not fucking fair,” Seth interrupts. “He should be here. He should get to be jealous.”
“But he isn’t. It isn’t fair, but it’s the truth.”
Seth shakes his head. I’m not getting through to him. And maybe I can’t get through to him—I understand grief, but not on the same level. I haven’t lost a sibling. I don’t know what that feels like.
We sit quietly while Seth sips his beer. Morose motherfucker.
He sets the empty bottle on my coffee table. “She said it was a mistake, after.”
“Those were her words?” I give him a sharp look.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
I’ll have to get to the bottom of this. I’ll ask Madison, because she will know. I have a feeling she said no such thing, or if she did, it was a miscommunication.
“I want to take her to Low Vice on Wednesday—they’re celebrating Halloween this week.
Every night is masquerade night.” At Seth’s look of doubt, I rush to add, “I already received my doctor’s clearance.
I won’t bow out and force you to take her alone.
Although that worked out pretty well for you today at the game, didn’t it? ”
“That was a mistake,” he growls.
“According to you, or according to her?” I fold my hands over my stomach. “Because I don’t think she said that.”
He picks up his empty bottle and takes it to the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he says, “It doesn’t matter the exact words she said—it matters what she meant.”
“Come with us on Wednesday. The three of us should play together again. In person.”
“No.” He returns to the living room, but he doesn’t sit.
“It will be good for us. All three of us. She’s the one, Seth.”
He waves his hand as he starts to the door, as if he cannot be bothered to engage further on this subject. “Goodnight, Romano.”
* * *
MADISON
Two days after the Surf Rats game, and my brain is still a ball of confusion. I thought Seth liked everything we did. I thought we were both having fun.
And then he was just…pissed.
All those buttons I pushed to get a reaction out of him—did I push too hard?
To distract myself from the uncomfortable question, I pull out one of Great-Aunt Vivienne’s letters from the mysterious I.
Dearest, when will we see each other again? It is winter outside and it is winter in my heart. The fire in the hearth touches none of the cold.
The letter goes on, bleak and full of yearning.
It ends with, I miss you, little fish. I set it down and close the translation app before it can request payment for further translation.
Damn, that was sad. Were I and Vivienne ever able to reunite?
The large stack of letters makes me think they weren’t.
A sudden creaking sound downstairs raises the hairs on the back of my neck and starts my heart pounding.
But the alarm is on, and I know nobody is down there.
This is just an old house, and it makes old house noises.
Especially on windy days like today, where the trees sway back and forth as if they’re in a hypnotized trance.
I carefully put the letter back in its envelope and retie the melancholy, faded red ribbon. Nothing like an intercontinental, star-crossed love affair to make my frustrations with Seth seem petty by comparison.
As I set the letters back in the desk drawer, my phone chimes with a notification.
It’s a text from Damiano. Are you excited for Wednesday?
My stomach makes a twisting loop of excitement. Two days until we go to Low Vice. Together, this time. It won’t be for an auction, but for a Halloween masquerade.
Very excited, I type back. I bought a new dress.
Show me.
No way. It’s a surprise. I already know it’ll be appropriate, because he sent me a site full of ideas.
The sheer, gauzy dress I picked will leave almost no part of my body to the imagination.
The material thickens everywhere a bikini would touch, but otherwise, I’ll be practically nude.
And because I’ll be wearing a mask over the top of my face, I won’t feel the slightest bit self-conscious.
I can show off without fearing judgment.
May I at least know the color, so my suit will match? he writes back.
I laugh. Please don’t show up in a dark purple suit.
He sends back a purple devil grinning emoji, which makes me laugh again.
Leaving the library, I go to my room to photograph a corner of the dress’s fabric for Damiano. His suit will not be purple, but he might want a pocket square in the same color, or a mask with highlights that match mine.
I send the pic to Damiano and hold the dress up against myself, dancing in front of the mirror to watch the fabric move.
I can’t wait for Wednesday. I’m tempted to put on the dress now, and wander around the house in it.
I’d pretend I’m a dancer, a servant to a king, and he can command me to dance for him—or fuck him—at his whim.
Is it something I’d want in real life? Fuck no.
But it’s certainly fun to fantasize about.
Damiano wouldn’t mind role-playing the king, I’m sure of it.
And Seth? my mind whispers.
I tell my mind to be quiet. I need to get a job or something, so I don’t have all this time to drive myself crazy. Thankfully, someone knocks on my front door.
I set my dress aside and hurry downstairs to peer through the peephole. It’s my neighbor, Matthew Kavlan. His dark brown hair is messy from the wind.
I open the door, and immediately the alarm control pad starts beeping at me. “Sorry, sorry, hang on.” I type in my security pin code to shut off the alarm. “Hey, Matthew. I’m glad you dropped by.”
“Really?” He grins and stands a little taller. His t-shirt is a size too small, stretching at his shoulders and biceps. I wonder if he wears it like that on purpose.
“Yeah.” I offer a tight smile—not too warm, not too open. I don’t want him to think I’m flirting. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping me. I have something for you in the kitchen.”
The kitchen where it happened—where Crane and Derick tried to kill me.
Matthew follows me toward the kitchen, commenting, “It seems like you’re really making this place your own.”
“Ah, well, I have time right now.” I take in the wallpaper I replaced in the entryway.
The tacky green paisley hadn’t suited me at all, so I put up a peacock blue with subtle, gold-foil star outlines.
Of course, that meant I had to get a rug to match, and I’d found a large abstract painting with highlights in the same blue at an art studio downtown.
“I haven’t done anything to the kitchen yet, though. ”
He examines the art deco style of the kitchen floor, and the matching walls and counters. “It’s like stepping into a time portal, except the appliances are new.”
“Right?” I laugh and pat the counter affectionately. I probably won’t change this room much, if at all.
“I could help you remodel it.” He leans against the wall, not far from where my cousins and their hired guys had tied me up.
I’d been so scared—I thought I was going to die.
Shoving away that horrible memory, I grab the bottle of whiskey resting in the breakfast nook.
I already tied a pretty little bow around the neck, to make it look more gift-y.
I smile and hand it to him. “Here—I got this for you, after the…after everything. Your actions that night were heroic. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And thank you, for this.” He admires the label before turning his attention back to my kitchen. “We could start with the cabinets and go from there.”
“I didn’t know you were a contractor.”
“Oh.” He hesitates. “I’m not. Home reno is something I like to do in my spare time.”
“Lucky Charmaine.”
His smile is forced. “I don’t think she’d agree with that take.”
And, that’s officially my cue to kick him out. I’m not here to listen to my neighbor’s marriage troubles. And it would be totally inappropriate for him to complain about his wife to me, a near stranger.
Wait, why did he stop by, anyway?
As if he realizes this at the same time I do, he says, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you—”
My stomach sinks. I remember the way he looked at me when we first met, like he could see through my clothes. There’d been something oily and off about it.
“There’s someone hanging around your house.”
Wait. I pause. I’m grateful he didn’t come onto me, but… “Someone’s hanging around my house? Like, outside?”
“I think so.” He shrugs. “I see movement sometimes, when you aren’t home. Do you ever notice things aren’t where you left them, or anything strange?”
“No,” I say slowly. I don’t like the thought of him watching my house, whether or not I’m home. “I have cameras. And a good alarm company.”
He’s kind enough not to mention how the whole system failed three weeks ago, when my cousins made their attempt on my life. Instead, he shrugs again. “I just, after everything, thought you’d want to know. Maybe set up more cameras or something, to be safe.”
I’m so unsure of his angle, I don’t know how to respond. Thankfully, at that moment, someone else knocks on my front door. I’m saved.
“Matthew! Matt! Are you in there? If you don’t come out in ten seconds…”
“Is that Charmaine?” I ask, alarmed. She sounds super angry at him.
He rolls his eyes. “I guess I better go.”
He doesn’t seem in a hurry, but I hustle to the front door and open it for Charmaine. She stands on the welcome mat in her work-out clothes, vibrating with rage.
“Hey,” I say, “I was giving Matthew a thank-you gift for helping me that night, a few weeks ago.”
Charmaine’s blue eyes flash. “And you called him here, to your house?”
Crap. “No. Um…”
Matthew strolls from the kitchen with the whiskey bottle in his hand. “No, I swung by to tell Madison about the strange things I’ve been seeing when she’s gone—”
“So you’ve been watching her. Watching her house.”
Deeply uncomfortable, I shift from foot to foot in the entryway. They’re standing in the way of the door, so I can’t close it on them and their argument.
“I’m not watching her, Charmaine.” Matthew’s voice is lazy and only the tiniest bit apologetic. “I happened to see things over here.”
She shakes her head, her jaw hard. “You disgust me.”
“Nothing new there.” Matthew raises the whiskey bottle toward me. “Thanks for the thank-you gift, Madison. Take care.”
As he ambles off the porch and starts down my driveway, Charmaine turns to face me. Her light blue eyes are full of disdain. “Stay away from my husband, slut.”