Mary didn’t share in his amusement as she gave him her usual hard examination, staring him dead in the eye with pursed lips. She finally said, “I’m glad to see you’re good otherwise.”
Dmitri had heard the statement a lot when he first met Charles, from both Mary and her husband. In this moment, he realized how much he had changed since the very first time she had asked him how he was doing, when he was twenty-five.
He’d been honest with Presley about his past; his life before Charles had been strained. His upbringing had been typical, and he had happy memories from his childhood, but issues developed in his twenties. His need to dominate created tension in his relationships, not only with women but with men. Bar fights were a typical weekend affair, during which some dipshit would thrust his chest out at Dmitri, and in that challenge, he would feel the necessity to come out on top. As for his relationships with women, asking his girlfriends if he could tie them up and spank them, because it turned him on, always ended with a messy breakup that made him miserable.
That strain had been his life from the ages of twenty-one to twenty-five, until Charles introduced him to the lifestyle, which helped Dmitri control his need to dominate. Not only did he meet men exactly like him, who understood his personality and held a level of respect for other dominant men that he admired; he also met women who allowed him to indulge in his darkest desires.
Three years ago, he’d taken that need a step further in owning the dungeon he played at, as it kept everything to his rules. Personally, things for him had never been better. He smiled at Mary. “Yes, I’m doing well.” Just to make her happy, he added, “And I’m working on the relationship. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
“That’ll do.” She hesitated, and a suspicious glint formed in her features. “By the way, the accountant called the other day. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”
He pushed off from the wall, settling in front of her again, and he kept his voice light. “Now, why would you think that?”
“Dmitri, I told you the last time to stop,” she said through gritted teeth. “I have a great job, I make good money, and I don’t need the extra help.” Her hands came up on her hips. “I’m not your submissive. You don’t need to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”
He had hoped this subject wouldn’t come up, since conversation at dinner had been light and casual. He’d also concluded that he didn’t do as much as he should, and more so, didn’t see her as often as he’d like. But Dmitri knew Mary had asked to see him tonight out of guilt over the accountant’s call. Otherwise, she would’ve called him on the telephone. In hopes of ending the conversation, he kissed her cheek. “I promised Charles I would take care of you, Mary.”
“Yes.” She moved away from him. Her voice sharpened to a fierce snap. “And you have. I’m fine. The kids are even better. Our savings are back up to where they were before Charles got sick. We have all that we need. No more.”
Dmitri sighed, understanding her point, though his promise to Charles remained unbreakable. If he went back on his word, what kind of man was he? Not one he could live with. “I know and respect that you can support yourself.”
He pressed a hand against her shoulder and came closer to her face to clear up what he knew bothered her most. “This has nothing to do with you, or even the money, and everything to do with my promise to Charles. That vow was made between Charles and me. If receiving the money makes you feel as annoyed as I see now, don’t talk to your accountant. I will never break my oath to Charles, and you know that.”
Mary’s lips parted, but then she closed her mouth, clearly realizing he wouldn’t relent, even if she didn’t like it. She looked at her shoes, heaved a sigh, then lifted her head with teary eyes. “Charles would be so proud to see you now. What you’ve become, the dungeon you opened, the position of president at the casino—you’ve done so well for yourself.”
He smiled at her, unable to revel in those words because they didn’t come from the man himself, and he opened the front door. “Take care, Mary.”
She stepped outside into the dark night, then turned to him. “But Charles would think you were a total idiot if you let this girl go by.” She pointed at him, eyes blazing. “Don’t be stupid.”
He chuckled, leaned against the doorway, and watched Mary march down the driveway toward her car. She’d always gotten the last word in, and she had always been defiant with Charles. He’d punished as often as he’d pleasured her, but their bond was unbreakable, and Dmitri had admired their strong relationship.
As Mary drove off, Dmitri shut the door and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He scrolled down the list of contacts until he reached Cora’s name. All of the members were in his list of contacts in case he needed to reach one, but first things first. He edited the contact from Cora to Presley, then he hit the call button. He raised the phone to his ear, and three rings sounded before Presley answered in her sweet voice, “Hello?”
“Hi, doll,” he replied. “How was your day?”
“Fine, thanks.” Her voice lifted. “And yours?”
He pressed his back against the door, discovering that he liked it when she sounded so happy. “Good day. I just had dinner with Mary.”
“The doctor Mary?”
“Mm-hmm.” He pushed off the door and strode down the hallway toward his office, the silence in the house surrounding him.
“How is she?”
He snorted. “Nosy.”
Presley laughed, a raspy sound that created a stir in his groin, but as she continued, the sadness in her voice killed the heat. “She’s doing well?”
As he passed the dining room, he stopped in his tracks, his hand tightening on the phone. “Are you concerned for her?”
“Well . . .” Presley hesitated. “It’s not really my business.”
“I’m making it your business.” He stared at the door to the games room at the end of the hallway. “Tell me.”
She inhaled, which sounded like white noise through the phone line. “I thought Mary seemed sad when I met with her. You know, that her husband died and she . . . well, she hasn’t moved on.”
His muscles loosened, and he continued his approach to his office. The concern seemed so typical of Presley, so considerate. “Charles and Mary were remarkably close.” He entered his office doorway, took a seat on his leather couch, and the memory of Presley kneeling before him rushed through his mind. The subject matter, though, chased away his heated thoughts. “It’s a shame she lost Charles, but a Dom and submissive who were as committed as they were cannot stop the connection because one is gone. She belonged only to him, always to him.”