The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

The bottom line is this; stay away from my family or I’ll let the world know your deplorable secrets. I can’t imagine the conservative Mr. Paulson would be too happy to hear about those now, would he?

Cordially,

Elena Lombardi

I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes as the truth of Elena’s email poisoned me from the inside out.

Logically, I knew that properly practiced BDSM could not only be healthy, it could be healing. But I also believed what Elena said about my desires being disgusting. Would Giselle have ever found submission, the pleasure to be had from pain and complete acquiescence, if I hadn’t forced them on her? Even now, was she only so interested in the power dynamic because it was the only way she thought that she could have me?

I thought back on the four years of my vanilla relationship with Elena and winced. Our relationship had never been about the sex but I could see looking back that I had been deeply unfulfilled by it. Fortunately, it explained my single-minded focus and control as I built Faire Developments from the ground up. If I couldn’t have power in the bedroom, I could exert it in all other areas of my life.

Only now, Giselle had alerted me to the possibility of a life as a total Dominant. I wasn’t a switch and I’d also been a powerful force in all aspects of my personality. I didn’t want to give up control to anyone; I didn’t want to kill the urge to push other people to do my bidding, to see how far I could push someone past their own limits to achieve a goal they had been previously too afraid to attain. Did that make me a sociopath?

The answer, at least at the moment, was a resounding yes.

Giselle was what I wanted beyond all things, not just a random submissive to act out my desires upon. I owed it to Giselle to show her that I could love her wholly, without the trappings of a lifestyle that I had missed and longed for. Elena had forced me to give up on the Dom within me and it had been like living a half-life but wouldn’t that be the exact same thing for Elle if I forced her to be a sub when that wasn’t really what she wanted?

I dragged a hand over my face as my mind surged with doubt and fear. I needed to wake up Giselle so that she could have time to get ready for our dinner with my colleagues but I didn’t think I could face her in my current state.

Quietly, I walked over to take a seat on the edge of the bed so that I could look down at her. Her red hair spiraled around her head, bright and glossy like sienna oil paint even in the darkness. Even her thick eyelashes were red, dark against the pale gold of her soft cheeks. My heart ached as I looked down at her. I knew then that a vanilla future was the only way forward for us. It would take some adjusting, on both our parts, but Elena was right, I owed it to Giselle to try.

Chapter Four.

Nerves bounced on my diaphragm, trampolining and cart wheeling in my stomach like circus performers as we walked through the cold night to one of Sinclair’s favorite casual restaurants in Paris.

He held my hand and people gave us appraising looks as we passed them by. It was heady feeling to realize that they were admiring us as a couple. I squeezed Sin’s hand and beamed up at him when he glanced down at me. The soft light of the shops and old-fashioned lampposts spilling into the street turned his hair to pure copper and cast his features in shadow.

“I never thought we would be able to do this,” I admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

His eyes were kind though, his version of a tender smile. “Now you can know that there will never again be a time when you will not be able to do this.”

He raised our joined hands to place a kiss on my knuckles.

I swooned a little, rocking on my heels, but Sin steadied me with a soft huff of laughter. “Have I worn you out, my siren?”

“The nap helped but yes, a little.”

This time his laugh was big and loud enough to attract attention. I stared at his throat, mesmerized by the way it moved with his humor.

He stopped the moment he looked back over at me, his face frozen mid-expression.

“What?” I asked.

“You have this way of looking at me.”

“A way?”

“Mmm, a way. A way that tells me that you think of me as the very best kind of man, a person in possession of a very good heart.”

“You are that,” I agreed easily, even though I could tell that he was moved almost to discomfort by the idea.