Deep Control (Dark Dominance 2)

“Thanks for holding me back,” I said. “Thanks for stepping in to look after my submissive.”

“Returning a favor,” he replied, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

In the midst of my angst, I’d forgotten that Fort had lost his shit at The Gallery less than a year ago, abandoning Juliet, leaving her terrified when his demons had become too much. I’d stepped in and handled things when he wasn’t able to. That’s what responsible Dominants did.

Now Milo and Fort were the responsible ones, and I was the one with the demons. One demon. My biological father, whose blood flowed through my veins.

“How bad did I hurt Milo?” I asked as he led me toward the bathroom.

“Not as bad as he hurt you.”

I touched my nose and realized that it was bleeding. I looked down and saw smudged, red drips on my shirt. “Let me clean up before I see her.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Fort left me in the bathroom, telling me he’d check on the others. I hunched over the marble counter and stared at my haggard, bloodied face. I’d really fucked up. I took off my ruined shirt and tie and threw them in the trash, then stood in my undershirt, wiping the blood from my nose and mouth. I’m sorry, Ella. I’m not this person. I’ve worked my whole life to avoid being this person.

I looked up when Fort brought Milo into the bathroom. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice sounding hollow, even though I meant it. “I’m a piece of shit, and I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

“I know.” He leaned his hip against the opposite counter, studying me. He had a darkening bruise beneath his eye. “I know the difference between play and abuse, Dev. I know where the line is. She was okay.”

“I know she was okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t either, but you took a good, consensual scene between two people and blew it all to shit.”

It had been my scene, too. Maybe he’d forgotten? I saw one of Fort’s brows rise in the periphery, but I wasn’t going to fight with Milo again. I needed to see Ella. “How is she?” I asked. “Is she still with Juliet?”

“Yes,” said Milo. “She’s shaken up, but she’ll forgive you. She understands you were trying to look out for her, even if you did it in a psycho way.” He stood back and gestured toward the door. “She’s sitting with Juliet and Rene in the lobby. Everyone else has gone home.”

We walked out together, leaving the empty, echoing Gallery dungeon behind us. I’d never heard it so quiet before. Your fault, for losing your shit. All of this is your fault.

Ella was sitting beside Juliet in the lobby. Coats on, collars off. They weren’t submissives now, just women. Ella had taken off her glasses, and cleaned the mascara trails from her face. She looked incredibly beautiful, and incredibly harsh.

“Where are your glasses?” I asked. “Are they broken?”

“No. Nothing happened to me. Nothing was wrong in there. I took them off because…” Her voice broke a little. “Because I don’t want to see you right now.”

I stood where I was. Her glare wasn’t welcoming. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “And I look like shit right now, so you’re smart not to want to see me.”

She looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap. “It’s not about how you look. It’s about what you did.”

“I know. I’m sorry, really sorry that I lost it. I saw something that wasn’t happening. There was something in your face that made me think he was hurting you.”

She looked back up, her voice full and harsh again. “He was hurting me, because I wanted him to. You hurt me also. That’s why we come here.”

There were five of us in the room—six, counting Rene—but no one else spoke or moved as we talked to each other. None of them dared leave us on our own.

“Ella, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She glanced at Juliet, who looked terribly sad. “I get it. You have things in your past. Triggers. We all have them. We all have weird stuff we can’t deal with.” She took a deep breath, and I knew where this was going.

“Ella—”

“When you let yourself get too close to someone, or feel too much for someone, it makes you crazy. I know that.”

She knew it from her lovesick father. Her father had taught her through example that strong feelings weren’t to be borne, that they ended in tragedy, if not insanity. What were my actions earlier, if not insane?

“Ella, please.”

“I like you, Devin. I like you a lot. You make me feel all kinds of wonderful things, and—”

“And you do that for me, too.” I moved closer to her, wanting to hold her, but I couldn’t. It was like she’d put up a wall. “It’s okay for people to feel things for each other,” I said.

Everyone watching us must have thought we were insane. Why not feel things? Why not fall in love? Because to Ella, that was as bad as abuse. It was a way to ruin your life. Damn it, it made me angry.

“You can’t use this as some excuse to say things are bad between us,” I insisted. “They’re not. I had a mental glitch. A memory, and I saw something that wasn’t there. I’m sorry I messed up your scene. I’m sorry that…” I took a step toward her. “Can I hold you? I’m sorry. I just want everything to be okay again.”

“I don’t know if they can be okay again. After tonight… I don’t know. I feel like maybe we should take a break.”

Fort and Milo looked shocked at her cool declaration, but I wasn’t. Juliet looked mournful. Rene looked troubled. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Take a break from what?” I asked. “We don’t have anything. You won’t let us have anything. But whatever. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

But it wasn’t. My rough, petty response to her dismissal was proof of that.

“Fine, then,” she said, like that settled it. “I could use a break anyway. I have lots to do at work.”

I moved into her space, glaring down at her. “I know you have work. That’s way more important than actually feeling something.”

Milo made a sound behind me, a warning. Juliet’s eyes were telling me to stop. I wondered if Fort was behind me too, poised to grab me in case I launched myself at Ella this time. I searched her gaze, wanting to shove her glasses back on her face, wanting to make her see my expressions if she was going to put me through this.

But she hadn’t put me through anything. She’d told me all along a relationship was off limits. She’d never wanted to fall in love, and if I’d done so like a fucking dumbass loser, that was my problem.

“Maybe we can take Ella home,” suggested Juliet. “And the two of you can talk sometime tomorrow, when things don’t feel so intense.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, helplessly. Ella couldn’t see my eyes, but I could see hers, and I could read her closed-off body language. She’d seen a side of me tonight she never wanted to see again. I’d acted like my fucked-up father, but she’d seen her fucked-up father in my “crazy” actions. Love makes you crazy. Now we were done.

Whatever. There was nothing to do about it now. Fort and Juliet left with Ella, who didn’t say goodbye to me, or look at me, even when she put her glasses back on. Rene said he’d wait for the cleaning crew, so he could show them where the blood was.

The blood. Fuck me. What had I done?

Milo invited me down to his apartment for a nightcap. Well, he phrased it as an invitation, but it was more of a command. Did he think I’d go flailing off after Ella, trying to change her mind? Would Fort and Juliet stay at her apartment to protect her from me?

Was I losing my mind?

As soon as we got to Milo’s, he brought out two glasses and his best whiskey, and poured generous drinks. I downed mine in one gulp, and thanked him when he poured another.

“You look like a degenerate,” he said, instead of “you’re welcome.”

Milo’s timid greyhound made his way over to give me a diffident greeting. He

was warmer with Milo, licking his hand and accepting a series of strokes along his sleek, black frame before he disappeared again. We settled back on the two low, weathered leather sofas beside Milo’s specially sourced 17th century fireplace. Pretentious bastard. His furnishings alone probably cost more than my apartment, and that wasn’t including the room of antique stringed instruments housed just beyond his home dungeon. Still not enough reason to punch him.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’m really—”

He held up a hand to silence my apologies. “I get it. She fucked you up. It happens.”

I wanted to argue and say he didn’t understand, but he understood.

“I liked her,” I said, morose, a little drunk already. I put down my glass. “She was different. But, you know, in the end she was the same. Crazy female.”

He let this blanket statement go. More than any of us, he was plagued by crazy females attracted to his reputation, his musical talent, his famous violin-making family name. “So that’s it?” he said after a pause. “You’re going to let her go? Move on?”

I shrugged. “What choice do I have? She has ‘lots to do at work.’ She has gravitational waves to measure. Time machines to build, so she can travel to exploding stars.” I waved a hand. “Whatever. Good for her.”

Milo lifted his glass. “Good for her. You’ve got plenty of other women you can play with.”

“Yeah.”