War of Hearts

Marco brushed my hair back from my cheek. “Joseph likes his toys,” he told me. “But we won’t do anything that you don’t like.”

I shifted in my seat. “I don’t know if I don’t like it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“I told you,” Marco said to Joseph.

“Yes, you did.” Joseph took my hand in his, keeping his focus on me. “I thought those drawings scared you. I didn

’t want to push you. But yes, that is something I want.”

“It’s something you need,” Marco clarified.

I kept my eyes on Joseph’s. “What do you mean?” I understood Marco’s needs now, but I still didn’t fully grasp why Joseph enjoyed dominating me. I’d seen the dark pleasure in his eyes when he overpowered me. I wanted to understand him, the way I now understood Marco.

Joseph blew out a long breath. “You know I don’t want the life I have,” he said, reiterating a truth he’d revealed long ago. “I didn’t have a choice, Ashlyn. I was born into this world. I have no control over my choices. I do what my father tells me. I don’t like it, but a fucked-up part of me still hates disappointing him.”

I squeezed his hand. Joseph and I were more alike than I’d ever realized. He felt pressure to make his father proud, just like I did. That desire had trapped him in a life, in a future, he didn’t want.

Going to Harvard hadn’t been my dream; it had been my father’s. And while I enjoyed my studies, I’d chosen to go against my father’s wishes and elected Art History as my major. He’d wanted me to major in Psychology and follow in his footsteps to a sensible career path. He’d made his disapproval clear; he would withhold his affection if I didn’t make the choice he thought was right, and I’d considered changing my major.

But then, I’d met Joseph. He’d praised me for pursing my passion over practicality. He’d allowed me to give myself permission to make the choice I wanted rather than cracking under my father’s emotional blackmail.

Joseph felt the same way, the same sense of powerlessness. That was why he needed to dominate me. It was why he needed to feel in control when we were together, because he lacked it in every other aspect of his life.

“I want to try,” I said softly. “The rope, I mean. I want to try it.”

Joseph’s eyes were bright with yearning. “Are you sure, angel?”

“How many times have I told you she’s not made of glass?” Marco said, growing impatient. He pulled me closer to his side, holding me tight. I leaned into him, welcoming the firm embrace. “Ashlyn was made for us, and you know it.”

I no longer minded how they talked about me while I was with them. It was important for them to have these discussions, and I knew I still had every right to speak up and voice my own opinion.

“Yes,” I agreed. “I want to be with both of you. And I want to make you happy, Joseph. I want to give you what you need.”

He traced the line of my jaw with his fingertips, touching me with awe. “Thank you, angel. I want to make you happy, too.”

I gave him a soft smile. “I am happy.”

It was true. I was happier than I’d ever been, despite the fact that I’d been ripped away from my life at Harvard. Joseph and Marco had taken me out of the life I didn’t want and forced me to take a hard look at myself. I understood myself in ways I’d never realized I was missing. And while I still planned to return to a safer, simpler life when the danger passed, I was going to make some different choices. Choices that were made just for me, not to meet others’ expectations of me.

Joseph returned my smile. “I’m glad, angel. We’re going to play now. If anything makes you uncomfortable or you want to stop, just say the word.”

“I will. I trust you,” I promised.

Joseph glanced at Marco, his smile widening to a wicked grin. “Do you want to carry our little captive upstairs, or should I?”

“I’ve got her,” Marco said, his voice rumbling with a hint of a laugh.

He stood, taking me up with him as he settled my body over his shoulder. I giggled and relaxed against him, not even thinking about fighting as he carried me out of the media room. I could hear Joseph leading the way, but all I could see were Marco’s boots moving across the floor in long, sure strides.

We made it up the stairs and into the bedroom within minutes. Joseph had headed in a different direction, but Marco sat down on the edge of the bed, arranging me so I sat in his lap. He tugged off my shirt and worked my pants down my legs. I was barefoot, so by the time he peeled them off my body, I was completely naked. Both men were still fully dressed, and I became very aware of the shifting power dynamic between us. They might be mine, but I was theirs to play with.

Joseph appeared in the doorway, holding a bulky gym bag.

“What’s that?” I asked, puzzled.

He grinned. “My kit bag. This is where I keep all my toys.”

He walked to the bed and set the bag down. Marco’s hands closed around my elbows, and he drew my arms behind my back. At the same time, he hooked his boots around my ankles, forcing me to spread my legs. I was trapped, laid bare for Joseph’s keen inspection. His pale eyes darkened, and he stared down at my body with hunger that bordered on obsession.