“I didn’t want you to give everything.” His voice rose along with hers. “You gave me too much, or perhaps I took too much. Either way, I told you from the start we weren’t suitable for each other. If you had only listened—”
“Suitable? Suitable?” she cried. “What a stupid, horrid word. What a pathetic lie, to say we weren’t suitable for each other.”
“Valentina—”
“If you want to tell lies I suppose you may do as you please, but I’m not going to listen to you and agree, because I don’t agree. I felt so much love for you. I still feel it”—she curled her hands into fists on her chest—“right here, living inside me. But that love should go to someone who wants it, someone who appreciates it.”
“Valentina,” he said in a sharper voice.
“My love should go to someone who returns it, and that someone obviously isn’t you.”
“Why did you never make a painting for me?” he interrupted, advancing on her again. As if to underline the angst in his question, an oversized wave crashed with a boom against the shore.
“I did make a painting for you,” she said, walking backwards. “I made a sketch on your wall. You remember the wall, don’t you?”
He made a dismissive gesture. “That wasn’t a painting. That was a tantrum. Why didn’t you make a painting of me while we were together?”
“I tried. You looked right at it in my apartment, but you didn’t recognize yourself. That’s how I knew it was bad work. I couldn’t... I could never finish it. I suppose because there is some part of you I can’t see.” She stopped, planted her feet and stared at him, this man she’d never been able to finish. “There’s something missing in you, some part of you I can’t find. You won’t let me see it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to!” He stretched his arms out in a wild gesture, and his voice seemed to strain against his will. “I think… Dieu. I don’t know, Valentina. I don’t know how to explain it. There’s some part of me that’s missing, yes. I know how. I know why. But I don’t know what to do about it.”
Back by the fire, some happy wedding guest whooped and whistled. Groups of people laughed on the terrace and muted music drifted from the reception room, but Valentina’s world shrank down to the misery crumbling her Master’s features.
“You’re not missing anything,” she amended. “I’m sorry. I only said that because—”
“Because it’s true.”
“It’s not. Please, don’t be upset, not today at Sara’s wedding. Everything’s okay.”
He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I did so many things to hurt you. I said so many things to you that weren’t true.” His voice roughened, turning hoarse. “I’m so bad for you. You’re smart to…to stay out of my way. You’ve always been a smart girl.”
“I’m not smart. I’m rash and emotional.”
“You’re awe-inspiring, Valentina. You’re perfect and complete and I’m not. You can love and I…I can’t.” His voice broke on the last words. Valentina stared, paralyzed by his spilling emotions, then stumbled toward him and hugged him, pressing her cheek against the galloping beat of his heart.
“Nonsense, monsieur. How can you believe this? Everyone can love. You can love, I’m certain.” She stroked his cheek, a calming touch. “Your heart’s just locked up. I don’t know why.”
He clutched her. “Because I’m afraid.”
“Then let me help you. Where is your key?” she asked, referencing Jason and Sara’s painting. She placed her hand over his chest and gazed up at him. “Trust me, we can fix you. Just tell me where to find your key.”
“Valentina…” He shuddered and curled his fingers over hers, squeezing them in a tight grip. “Valentina, don’t you see? You are my key.”
*** *** ***
Michel led her farther down the beach, away from the fire. He needed cover and privacy. He could barely catch his breath for hoping. The way was there for him, if he was only brave enough to take it. Help me love you. I need to love you or I’ll die.
He drew her into an alcove near a natural cluster of rocks. He sat atop one stone and she sat on another, her almond-shaped eyes reflecting the firelight from down the beach, her features framed by the red-gold magnificence of her hair. You are the magic of my days, Jason and Sara had said to each other. If it was Michel making vows, he would have said to Valentina, You are the fire of my days.
He started to talk over the pounding rhythm of the waves, to confess, self-consciously at first, then more easily. He explained to Valentina about his childhood, his parents, his days of wandering the world trying to find some peace. He talked about control and fear, and then he reached to draw her closer because what he really needed to talk about was the harm he’d done to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, burying his face against the softness of her hair. “I’m sorry for all the things I did to hurt you.” He held her tight. He’d longed to embrace her for so long that now he couldn’t loosen his grip. “I feel so much fear when I think about loving you. I’m so afraid of what I’ll do to you. I’m afraid of hurting you, of destroying you. I’m afraid of suffocating you and taking away who you are.”
She turned her face up to look at him. “You hurt me most when you were trying not to love me. Maybe... Maybe that means that if you allowed yourself to love me, all this hurting would stop. We’ve never dealt in locks and keys, you know. I gave you every part of me from the start.”
“I know, and all I did was push you away. You should hate me.”
“I did hate you, some of the time. But I never stopped loving you, even when I hated you.”
His lips quirked into a half smile. “You left something to that effect all over my walls.”
She laughed and buried her face against his neck. He twined his fingers in her hair, tracing the shape of her delicate scalp. “It’s still there, you know. To remind me.”
“Remind you of what? How awful I can be?”
“It’s there to remind me that I love you. You’re my key, Valentina. You’re the fire of my days.” He breathed in her scent, massaging her nape and then down the curve of her spine. “And you weren’t awful. You were never awful. A Master has a responsibility to improve, to protect, to fulfill his slave’s needs. I never should have rejected your love. I shouldn’t have denied it existed. That was a callous, heartless thing to do.”
“But you were afraid. Are you still afraid?”
“Yes.” He touched her cheek, brushing away a bit of sand. “But as I watched Jason and Sara get married, all I could think about was you. That I felt all those vows and wishes for you. That means something, doesn’t it?”
She turned her head a little. “It means love, Mr. Lemaitre.”
“Michel.”
“Michel.” She rubbed her eyes. “Okay, I’ll try to call you that. Michel…is it possible for you to love me and still be my Master?”
He gave a choking kind of laugh. “Of course it’s possible. I’ve done it all this time, haven’t I? Because I loved you from the start, as much as I tried not to.” He nuzzled against her cheek. “You still want a Master, do you?”
“I need one,” she nodded. “I need you.”
He went rock hard as soon as she said the words. “Yes, you do need me, don’t you?” He rearranged her legs and dress so she straddled him. His hands wandered down to squeeze her ass as he pressed his cock against her front. “Sometimes you’re a very bad girl.”
“Sometimes I’m awful,” she said, “no matter your words to the contrary. I would like a Master to help me be better, and a lover to help me be happy. And a friend...” She lifted her face to look at him. “I’d like a friend who understands me.”
A Master. A lover. A friend. He could be all those things if he worked at it hard enough, just as he was business owner, creative director, father, boss.
“Valentina, I want to be everything you need. You’ve brought me so much happiness and I’d like to do the same for you. With that said, I won’t be perfec
t all the time.”
“I’m the farthest thing from perfect, as you know.”
He laughed, pressing his forehead against hers. It was a laugh of relief, a laugh exhaling weeks of stress and pain. “I like that you’re imperfect. It brings variety to my days.”
“And love is never perfect,” she pointed out. “Sometimes it hurts. But for you, I’ll put up with it.”
There was a flash and a boom. Valentina’s eyes widened as she clutched his shoulders. “Someone’s shooting at us.”