I didn't even go back to my apartment.

My father sent the driver over with Elaine and they went in and retrieved my things from my apartment, my laptop and a few items from my closet plus the presents I'd bought but hadn't wrapped. I'd wrap them later.

We went to Midnight Mass, and I managed to have a shower and look somewhat presentable, although the choir singing "O Magnum Mysterium" by Morten Lauridsen made me cry, of course, and my tears at the beautiful music morphed into tears for myself and for the loss I felt for Drake.

On Christmas morning, I realized that breaking it off with Drake was the right thing to do. We should have been together on Christmas morning, exchanging gifts, spending the day together, having Christmas dinner together. I should have been with him the entire time. He had no surgeries. His band played a few gigs over the holidays but he'd hurt his hand and wasn't playing. He had the rest of the vacation to spend as he chose. Instead, we couldn’t be together except for a few hours here and there when I could find an excuse to sneak away. And then, it would be just to fuck.

That was no life. That was no relationship.

Still, I cried myself to sleep each night and each day, I forced myself to get up and go through the motions. I wore Elaine's slippers, an old pair of pajamas, and my hair in a messy ponytail, doing little else than mope around, watching old movies, and eating ice cream directly from the container.

My father let me mope, but he was there as company when I felt like it, and when I didn’t, he left me to my own devices. As New Years approached, I dreaded the day. My father was having a dinner party with his 'people' and I would be expected to dress up and greet them, sit with him and Elaine. Then, he and Elaine had tickets to a fancy party to ring in the New Year. Heath and Christie would join them, but I bowed out.

 

On New Year's Eve Day, I checked the guest list. As I stood in the kitchen, my father came up behind me and glanced over my shoulder.

"Drake isn't on the list," he said. "I didn't think you'd want to see him, but I felt incredibly bad. He's like a son to me and I would have invited him if it wasn't for your breakup."

"I'm sorry Dad. I could always just spend the evening at my apartment if you want to invite him."

"Too late," he said. "Besides, you belong with me. Did you know he's leaving NY Presbyterian for a year? Can you believe it?"

"What?" A shock of adrenaline went through me, making my knees weak.

"Yes, I called over to speak with him, see how he was doing, and he said he'd cleared his slate and had a definite leave of absence. He's spending four months in Africa, teaching and doing Foundation work in Kenya. Going to see where his dad died, helping fix up a few hospitals in the area. Then he's coming back to focus on the Foundation. His band."

"How did he seem?" I asked, my throat choked with emotion.

"Who can say? He seemed to be busy making plans." My father looked at his watch. "Well, I've got a conference call. Seems as though this campaign stuff goes on no matter that it's New Year's Eve."

He kissed my cheek and left me alone in the kitchen.

 

I went to my room and laid on my bed, devastated that Drake felt he had to leave NY Presbyterian over this. It was my fault. I never should have agreed to see him again. That day when I sat in the storefront window and he texted me from across the street, I should have just let him go.

Elaine popped her head in the doorway.

"Katie? Are you OK?"

I rolled over away from the door. "No, I'm not."

She came in, closing the door behind her. She sat on the bed beside me and took my hand.

"What's the matter, Kate. Tell me. Is it Drake? Your father told me that he was leaving for Africa in a few days."

I nodded and then covered my face with my hands, unable to stop my tears.

She bent down and put her arms around my shoulders. "There, there… I thought you would be sad. You two seemed to be really good together. His eyes seemed so bright when he was with you in the Bahamas. I just can't believe you two broke up. What happened?"

"I had to break up with him," I said to her. "He isn't interested in anything long term, just casual. I knew that when we started out, but I fell in love with him, Elaine. There's just so much more to him than I ever thought was possible. He loves music, he is so good hearted, he's so strong and warm and smart. But I need more than he can give."

"Aw, sweetheart," she said and pulled me into her arms. "It's OK. These things have a way of working out for the best." She hugged me and just let me cry. How I wished my mother was here to comfort me, but she wasn't. I hugged Elaine tighter.

We sat like that for a while and she stroked my hair, murmured in my ear and soon, I regained control over myself.

"Have a bath and put a cold compress on your eyes. We'll have a nice dinner. I wish you would come with us to the dance, but I understand if you decide to stay here."

She left me on the bed and I lay there, deciding what I should do.

I didn't have Drake any more. I didn't have Dawn. I didn't have my own mother. I felt incredibly sorry for myself.

I slept the afternoon away, hiding from the world under the covers of my childhood bed.

 

Later, before dinner, I did what Elaine suggested. There was no good reason to make my father upset so I had a bath, put a cold washcloth over my eyes, and did the best I could to look presentable, wearing that dress I wore the night I attended my father's first campaign dinner. No amount of makeup could disguise my bloodshot black eye so I decided to carry a tissue around and plead allergies if anyone asked me. I prepared a story about falling in the bathtub for when people asked about my stitches.

Finally, the time came for guests to start arriving. I went to the bar and looked for something to drink, needing alcohol to take away my sadness. The bartender was gone to the kitchen for ice, and so I bent down and checked the bar. There was every kind of scotch, some bourbon, gin, but my dad kept the vodka cold. I opened the small bar fridge under the counter for some vodka and cold soda. In the back of the fridge was a bottle with a label I recognized from Drake's apartment. Anisovaya. On a small label attached to the bottle was a note in Drake's handwriting:

"To my second father, Happy New Year, my best regards, Drake"

I picked it up and when I stood, I glanced up, thinking the bartender was back only to be looking into the clear blue eyes of Drake Morgan.

Devastatingly handsome Drake Morgan, MD. Neurosurgeon on leave from NY Presbyterian, bass player, philanthropist, Dominant. Wearing a beautiful dark grey suit with a white shirt and black tie, hands behind his back, a half-smile on his face.

He brought his hands forward and in them were the two crystal shot glasses that were rumored to have once belonged to Yelena Kuznetzova, Stalin's housekeeper at his dacha in Soviet Georgia.

"I brought these along just in case you didn't have anything quite so special."

He placed them on the bar and smiled at me.

I put the bottle on the counter and stepped back, leaning against the wall, a bit dizzy as the blood drained from my face. I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. He came behind the bar and took me in his arms, practically holding me up because my knees went wobbly.

He took my chin in his hand and I opened my eyes, barely able to see him through my tears.

"Drake, you can't do this to me," I said, biting back a sob. "This is cruel."

"You're the one who left. You can't do this to me." Then he kissed me, his arms squeezing me against him and I could do nothing to stop him, he was so strong and determined. When he pulled away, he held my face in his hands, wiping my tears away with his fingers.

"Why are you here?" I said, my voice a whisper, barely able to speak. "You're leaving. I don't want to see you…"

"Your father called me and told me you'd be here tonight. That if I was going away, I should come over and say goodbye."

"This is torture."

He smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Kate, your father knows. He gave me a dressing down, telling me that he already knew about the restraining order. About my 'proclivities' as he called them. He's known all along."

"He knows?"

Drake nodded. "He's been watching me for years, monitoring me for my father. He knew about the restraining order. He knew about the BDSM through Nigel."

He led me to the couch in the living room and sat with his arm around me, touching my bottom lip, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek.

"He and Nigel go back a long way. I guess Nigel faced some blackmail over his sexuality years ago when your dad was still a defense lawyer and your dad advised him. Nigel told him about me after he saw me at a Fetish night."

"That's why Nigel was looking at you that way the night of my father's campaign fundraiser…"

"Yeah, he told me that I had better not ever hurt you or he'd have my balls. I had no idea he'd told your father."

"My father knows you're a Dom?"

Drake laughed ruefully. "Who would ever have believed it? He knows even more about me than my own dad did."

"And he approved of you as my boyfriend…" I shook my head. "I don't understand. I thought he'd be horrified."

"So did I but I guess not. He said," and Drake put on a mock voice that sounded gravelly like my father, "'For some reason I can't think of off the top of my head, Kate seems to have a preference for a dominant man and you're a helluva lot better than some jackass who doesn't know what the Sam hell he's doing, like that flyboy she had the sense to get rid of.'"

I covered my mouth to stifle a sob, tears filling my eyes.

"He said that?"

"His exact words."

I closed my eyes and leaned against him, but even though I was relieved that my father was so accepting of this, Drake was leaving.

"But you left NY Presbyterian. You’re going to Africa…"

He pulled back and looked in my eyes. "I figured that if I did, I could lay low for a year and return when all this blows over. I talked to the head of the College and we agreed that I'd take a year leave of absence. I've been meaning to go to Africa and do a longer stint. Teach a class at the College in Nairobi."

I shook my head, a feeling building in me that I couldn't identify.

"So you came to say goodbye."

He took my face in his hands again. "I came," he said, taking in a deep breath, "to say that I've developed a taste for potatoes and gravy and meat all on the same fork." He stared into my eyes, his expression so earnest, his brow furrowed. "Lara played a recording of you telling her you thought you could love me. She even tried to entice you to meet another Dom and you refused, saying you wanted me. That almost made me reconsider leaving, but could isn't does." He moved closer, his eyes so intense. "When Elaine called me this afternoon and told me that you said you had fallen in love with me, I realized that I would never meet anyone like you again in my life. So perfect for me in every way. And I think I'm good for you, too. I think I could make you happy."

He leaned down and kissed me tenderly.

"I couldn’t stand it. I couldn't lose you. So I came over and spoke with your father while you were sleeping, perfectly willing to accept what ever he said I should do. He admitted to knowing about me all this time and said that if I had feelings for you, I shouldn't leave without telling you. Then, he sent me home to change and I came back as quickly as I could so we could talk and I could confess my feelings for you."

I bit my lip to control my emotions.

"Ms. Bennet," he said and shook his head, his eyes searching mine. "Kate, I love you. I never, ever want to be separated from you again."

Emotion built in me, my vision blurring. I couldn't speak.

"Kate," he said, his smile indulgent. "Your face is getting red. You should breathe now."

I burst out crying at that, covering my face with my hands, and he just wrapped his arms around me, cradling me, my face in the crook of his neck. He pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and gave it to me so I could mop up my eyes, rocking me back and forth. Then he tilted my head up and kissed me.

"But you're leaving…" I said when he pulled away.

"I want you to come with me."

I shook my head. "Africa was so hard for me."

He brushed hair off my cheek. "Not where we'll be. Kenya is so beautiful, Kate. Where I'll work, it's so full of hope and promise. You'll love it. The wildlife is spectacular. You could work on your art, your photography, write…"

"I haven't finished my MA."

"You can take a leave of absence. When we come back, you could finish it."

"What would I go as? Your submissive?"

"As my love. As the woman I can't live without. And, when we wanted it, and needed it, as my submissive."

I sighed, my eyes still brimming, and leaned against him, my face in the crook of his neck, his cologne filling my nose, his warmth, his strength, soothing me.

 

When a guest arrived at the front door, Drake took my hand and led me to the bathroom, closing the door behind us. He made me sit on the vanity while he rifled through the drawers in search of a washcloth, which he ran under cold water. Then, he held it to my eyes and leaned against me, his gaze so comforting – his eyes so tender. Only less than two months ago, I could barely bring myself to look in his eyes, but now, I wanted to look in them.

I was surprised at what a caregiver he was, thinking that surgeons were usually a bit distant but that was the story of our relationship – from that first night at the bar when he saved me from a fall, to the fundraiser when he tended my wounds, to the concert when he wiped my tears, to the Bahamas when he cut me out of the wetsuit and applied aloe vera to my burns, to the ER when he bandaged me up.

I just let him look after me, my happiness almost too much to bear, bringing more tears to my eyes.  I had to breathe in deeply to calm myself.

Finally, I was able to regain control and let him wipe my face. I reapplied some makeup while he watched.

"You don’t have to stay with me for this," I said and I applied foundation to cover up my red nose.

"I forgot how much I love watching a woman dress and put on her face. It's so intimate."

"You used to like it?"

He smiled, his smile a bit wistful. "When I was married."

I said nothing, even though I wanted to hear more about his marriage. I didn't want to push him to talk about what was such a painful memory.

But he seemed to want to tell me. While I applied my mascara, he sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched me in the mirror.

"I used to watch her in the morning before she went to work."

"What did she do?"

"A nurse – of course. Who else do doctors spend so much time with? We worked together at NYP. If the nurses have a bad opinion of me, it's because of the divorce. It split them into two camps – those who still liked me and those who hated me because of the split."

"Sorry to hear that. It's hard to stay neutral in a divorce."

I applied a bit of lip gloss and then I turned around, leaning against the vanity and watched him. He seemed to want to keep talking.

"I thought I'd never make the same mistake as my father, but I made every single one. He neglected my mother, he was so busy with his business and with his charity and his music, she finally gave up and left him."

"She didn't keep in contact with you?"

He shook his head. "My dad won custody. He had a really great lawyer…"

"Who?" I said, my eyes widening. "My father?"

He nodded. "Yep. Your father was working in Family Court then and advised my dad. My dad was just really starting to make money and was able to hire nannies and housekeepers to look after me. The judge thought I'd have a better life with my dad even if it meant I was kept away from my mother. She left and went back to California where her family was, remarried and that was it. My father never remarried."

"I'm so sorry, Drake. To grow up without a mother…"

He shrugged. "It explains a lot, really."

I nodded, not saying anything else.

Then he stood up and came to me, putting his arms around me. "But I've learned the hard way. Now, enough reminiscing. I want to have a nice evening with you now that we can. Your father wants us to come out with him to dance, but I pointed to my arm and used it as an excuse. I said I wanted to bring in the New Year with you alone. He thought that was probably a better idea, considering…"

"I can't believe he accepted that you're into BDSM…"

Drake shook his head, smiling. "He said 'I don’t care what bedroom games people play in the privacy of their own homes for God's sake. I've played a few of my own. You have to in order to keep a marriage alive and I was married to the same woman for twenty one years…"

"Bedroom games," I said, smiling. I closed my eyes and leaned against Drake, my arms slipping around his waist.  "Do you suppose he's a bit of a Dom himself?"

"I wonder…" Drake said. "Sly old bastard if so. Still, it must be hard for a father to think of his beloved daughter being sexual."

"And vice versa. But, as long as he thinks of it as bedroom games, that’s OK by me."

"Seriously, Kate, I'm pretty tame when it comes to Doms. A lightweight. He said he did his research."

"You're just right for me."

He smiled at that. "I think so."

"I know so."

He kissed me and all the tender emotions quickly turned to ones more passionate, his hands slipping down to the hem of my dress to search for garters, which I hadn't worn.

"No garters?"

"I was too sad to wear them."

"Do you have them here?"

I nodded, a smile starting on my face.

"Go put them on with nothing on underneath."

"Are you serious? At my parent's New Year's Eve dinner?"

"Please," he said, grinning. "I didn't get a present from you and I'm feeling all deprived. Consider it your present to me."

I left the bathroom and went to my bedroom where my bag was on the dresser. Inside were the garter belt and nylons I'd worn the last time I saw him. While he waited in the living room, I slipped off my undies and pantyhose and put on the garter belt and nylons. I took in a deep breath, knowing that just wearing them alone would make me aroused.

I went out to the living room where he stood by the bar talking to the bartender, who was pouring some Anisovaya into Yelena Kuznetsova's shot glasses. Drake took them and turned to me, and when he saw me, his face just brightened, then a leer started on his face, his mouth turning up into a half-grin.

He came to me where I stood by the fireplace and handed me one of the glasses, with the delicate filigree pattern etched onto the crystal.

"Za vas, moya lyubov," he said. "To you, my love."

I couldn't repeat it because of emotion, covering my mouth with my hand, smiling through tears.

We shot the Anisovaya back and I grimaced, although I had come to associate the taste with pleasure.

He leaned in and kissed me immediately, and I could taste the anise on his lips and tongue.

"With you looking like that," he said, stepping back to examine me up and down. "Knowing what's underneath that dress? I don't know if I can wait until later. We may have to sneak off in between courses for a quickie."

Heat rose in my cheeks at that, warmth between my thighs.

"You haven't given me a present yet either," I said a grin spreading on my own face. "Maybe you could use me the way I've always wanted – a fast fuck in the broom closet that leaves me panting, in need of you. Later, you could take your time and satisfy me… Maybe pour some of that Anisovaya over me and lick it off…"

He pulled me against him. "You are a kinky little thing, Ms. Bennet. You're going to make me very uncomfortable if you keep up with that teasing mind of yours and I'll be embarrassed in front of your father's guests because of the tent in my pants. But maybe later, after dessert when there's a lull in things before we get into liqueurs, I'll tug at my ear and you'll go into the bathroom off your bedroom and wait for me. I may just have a nice big present for you…"

I closed my eyes, a thrill going through my body thinking of it.

 

Somehow, we made it through the cocktails and chat before dinner, my father's huge smile and boisterous gravelly voice clearly indicating he was happy to see us standing together, one of Drake's hands on the small of my back. Drake never left my side, and together, we talked to whoever came by to greet us.

Nigel arrived and I was surprised to see him with his partner, Brian. Short, well-dressed with impeccable taste, Brian was barely up to Nigel's shoulder. I turned to see my father and wondered how he'd respond. He smiled and shook Brian's hand and that was it. He was accepted into the inner circle. Nigel spied us and came right over, introducing Brian to Drake and me. After we said our hellos, Elaine came by and pulled Brian away for a moment to show him some artwork.

Nigel leaned in to me.

"So I see your father's matchmaking succeeded."

I smiled. "I tried to fight it, Nigel, but you know my father. He has to have his way."

Nigel laughed. "Yes. That he does." Nigel laid a hand on Drake's shoulder. "I already had my little talk with Drake about you so I won't say anything more."

Drake smiled, but I could tell there was still something between them.

"Quit being my big brother, Nigel," I said, pointing a finger at him.

"Someone has to be. Heath seems too busy with his own children."

Then Nigel leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. "Happy New Year, Kate."

I squeezed his hand and watched him walk over to where Brian and Elaine stood, admiring a piece of art.

I sighed and turned to Drake, who put his arm around my shoulder.

"What did he say to you that night?"

"He just told me if I ever hurt a hair on your head, he'd have me thrashed soundly."

I laughed at that and Drake grinned.

 

Mostly, we spoke to each other, him leaning down to whisper in my ear, telling me what he wanted to do to me if we did get a chance to go to the bathroom later.

"Ms. Bennet, I want to slip my hand down under your dress and feel you. Are you already wet for me? I bet you are, you vixen…"

"Shh, Drake," I said, my cheeks heating, unable to keep a smile off my face.

At dinner, we sat in the same places as before, but this time, I kept slightly turned to Drake, barely able to keep my eyes off him or a smile off my face. My stomach was all butterflies as we ate our meal, and I wondered if he would do it – tug his ear and signal that I was to go to my bathroom and wait for him.

Finally, once dinner was over and the servers took away our dessert plates, my father announced that we'd take our after dinner drinks in the living room. As my father spoke to Drake about something to do with the dance afterwards, Drake tugged his ear. I glanced away quickly, my body responding.

He was going to go through with it.

I stood up. "Please excuse me."

I left the dining room just as people started to filter out and make their way to the living room. I slipped to my bedroom and into the bathroom, breathing deeply, wondering how long it would take for him to escape. In a couple of minutes, he opened the door and came inside, closing the door and leaning against it.

"I have something for you, Ms. Bennet."

"You do?" My face was hot, butterflies in my stomach.

"In my pants. Come and see for yourself. I need you to take it out. It's very uncomfortable."

I went to him and opened his suit jacket, then ran my fingers over his groin. Something hard protruded from it but it didn’t seem the right shape. I opened his fly and reached in only to find a long black velvet case.

A jewelry case.

"Drake…"

I opened it to find a velvet choker with a pendant attached. A single teardrop diamond in a white-gold setting. It must have been several carats in weight.

"I had it made specially for you back before all this happened. I thought a black velvet choker would substitute pretty well for your leather collar and would be more appropriate to wear at special events like tonight." He went behind me and slipped the choker around my neck, fastening it, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

I covered my mouth, tears once more springing to my eyes.

He remained behind me, adjusted the choker so that the diamond fell in the hollow at the base of my throat, watching in the mirror.

"Beautiful…" he whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. Then, he pushed me forward so that I leaned over the vanity facing the mirror. He lifted up my dress, groaning when his hands slid over the garters, and he gave me my Christmas present.

He tried to give it to me just the way I asked.

He really tried but he couldn't stand not seeing me fulfilled as well.