Chapter Twelve
Aurelie’s confession
He’d become so immersed in the feel of the woman cradled in his lap, it came as a surprise when Kevin heard a voice from beside the chair. “Brother.” Looking up, he saw Kris staring at Aurelie with downturned lips. “Settled.” From the tightness in Kris’ face, he had clocked the scarring, too, and liked it just as little as Kevin did. “Your kitten is off-duty for the night, no worries. Master Sidney was pleased she found someone she knew and trusted.”
Those two sentences provided Kevin a wealth of information. Sid was in charge of service subs, and well-known as a firm taskmaster. He wouldn’t allow her to ditch her obligations if it weren’t something he had hoped to have happen. Sid being glad she found a partner she trusted said she didn’t grant that trust easily, which was at odds with the woman he had known. He gave Kris a chin lift and watched the man remove himself from close proximity to the seating area, leaving Kevin and Aurelie in as much privacy as they could manage in the middle of such a public room.
Without speaking, he lifted his head, looking around to see a stack of blankets on a nearby table. Shit. He should have grabbed one before sitting down. Now I’ll have to—a hand appeared, taking the top blanket off the pile, and he looked up. Sid shook it out before leaning down, pausing at arm’s length until Kevin nodded. Then Sid wrapped the covering around Aurelie where she sat in Kevin’s lap, tucking it deep into the chair. As his hands worked to secure the blanket in place, Sid brushed the side of her head with his lips, whispering, “Peace. Be still, little one.” She had tensed at the rustle and touch of the blanket but then relaxed at hearing Sid’s voice. She trusted him. Good to know. He liked that his Aurelie had someone close like that. Fuck, what the hell’s happened to her?
Kevin allowed his head to tilt sideways, gently resting his cheek on top of her head, slowing his breath to synchronize with hers. Time to relax her, ease her mind, and comfort her body. After a couple of minutes where he sat simply holding her, breathing with her, he deliberately deepened his respiration, slowing them even more. Gradually she matched him, and he felt the muscles in her legs relax. He waited as the jittering shudders slowed and eventually ceased altogether.
An hour passed, then another and still he sat holding her. She wasn’t asleep, the tension remaining in her frame told him that. Her jerking alertness every time he made a sound told him something else. She was expecting questions eventually, probably dreading them. She’d be aware her skin told a story he would demand to hear, and he suspected the telling of it would dredge up things she might prefer remain hidden.
Instead, he began quietly reciting stories of his life since leaving Paris. Since leaving her. His journey to where he was tonight. Another hour passed and still she was silent. Head tipped back, eyes closed, he had slumped a bit, relaxed and comfortable, her weight a slight and welcome burden, anchoring him. He felt her shift and ignored it, continuing with his current story. “So, then I turned down the sous chef, telling her being the under-chef didn’t literally mean being under the chef. Jeeze, I wasn’t even sure where to put my hands around her after that. Woman was free with a cleaver, that’s for sure.” He paused as Aurelie’s fingers dug into his shirt, that possessive hold the first reaction she’d shown to anything.
“It was about two weeks after that I got moved to lunch. A promotion to chef.” He knew he sounded proud, because he was. It was quite an accomplishment at his age, but deserved because he was good at his job, loved it, and had a driven focus to be even better. Each recipe he attempted was a chance to improve, and every menu showed his willingness to explore new horizons in cuisine. “It worked out for all involved. I got my own sous chef and was able to organize things to suit me for a change. Sans the under the under-chef part.” He took a breath, preparing to continue when he heard a small noise from her. “Hmm?” An undemanding interrogatory might leave things safe enough for her to engage.
His hopes were realized when she whispered, “You always were the funniest man I knew.”
“I’ve had ample opportunity to work on my material since you saw me last.” He sighed and moved, sliding down in the chair a little more, arms tightening around her, tucking her close so she’d know he didn’t want her to move away. “How you been, honey?”
She shrugged, the fluid, one-shouldered movement taking him back to memories of the bed they’d shared in her apartment. Her voice was scratchy, sounding unused when she said, “Things could always be worse, no? For now, in this moment, I am good.”
“And yesterday?” Those scars that marred her skin hadn’t happened yesterday, but he would press in tiny increments where he could to learn what he wanted to know. “How were you yesterday?”
“Yesterday? Not so good as today. But still better than the day before.” She drew a breath that broke three times, fractured hitches that caused her body to shudder. Aurelie wasn’t nearly as complacent as she wanted him to believe.
“How long have you been in the US?” That question was scarcely better than demanding to know why she didn’t contact him as soon as her feet hit the ground here. It was, however, a far stretch more suitable than insisting to know who had done those things to her.
She didn’t answer for a moment, and he felt the muscles all over her body tensing. Deliberately staying loose, not bracing for whatever hit she was about to deliver, he waited. Finally, in a voice so quiet he would have missed it if he weren’t totally focused on her, she said, “Three years in Chicago, mon ami.”
Her words stung in more than one way, because not only had she been close enough to touch for so long, but she just relegated him to friend status. Kevin found that was not at all where he wanted to be. Once she was mine, he had told Kris and meant it. She had been his, and he was hers for two months. Through the time apart he’d found that his heart was hers for far longer.
It was because of her example of how perfect a balanced relationship could be that he had not taken on a long-term sub. Never looked for someone because, in his gut, he knew what he and Aurelie had been to each other was special. A give-and-take relationship so far beyond the total power exchange so many Doms bragged they had when in reality, they owned a slave who wanted all decisions taken from their shoulders. Not to belittle that kink, and he knew when the needs of Dom and sub were aligned, all relationships were beautiful to see. But Kevin, having experienced it once, could only see the differences.
He’d had his internship in Paris, and spent the two months soaking up all the knowledge in the hotel that he could. She’d worked a job, too, employed at a design studio that turned out couture dresses and suits, her art both the core and embellishment of each piece produced. A fledgling designer, she was without the acclaim needed to break out on her own, but that didn’t matter. She liked the people she worked with and felt fulfilled in what she did. She’d been happy in the support role she provided. This meant that outside of the apartment, she was a career woman, arguing points with the lead designer, taking friends out for drinks, and doing whatever she wanted. Inside the walls where they lived, she was his. But even in that, she had so much sway, at least in the first weeks when she was training him. He had laughed over the years at how green he must have seemed, floundering his way through the simplest scenes she setup.
Still, their relationship had grown quickly, blossomed into an emotional connection that was firm and deep. Something he missed like hell when it was gone. For months his throat had closed each time he’d thought about her. Gradually his calls and her texts had dwindled to nothing, but she had his number. She could have contacted him to let him know her whereabouts. If he didn’t have every moment of their last days together branded into his brain, he might think that meant she didn’t care. He knew better. It meant she still cared too much, was afraid of rejection, and fearful that he would turn her away.
If she only knew how much he had longed for her in his arms. All sweet submission, sassy attitude, and her quick and beautiful smile. My Aurelie. Not my friend, just mine. With that in mind, he composed his response carefully. “I am disappointed. You so casually admit to stealing months from me. More than thirty months I could have had, honey.” No name, not yet. “Those were mine. You remember our agreement?” At the airport in Paris, he had held a sobbing Aurelie for minutes, until he was out of time. They had promised the other to keep in touch, had promised that if it were possible, they would make a visit happen. “You were in Chicago. You have my number, honey.” With a squeeze, he dropped his voice, “I want my time with you. Mine.”
“Kevin, your wiles won’t work on me.” Now she sounded coy, and that pissed him off because in his lap was a wounded version of a woman he had once cared about. Coy didn’t fit right here and now, even as it showed him that the smart-ass side of her personality hadn’t been completely crushed. Brat.
Fingers tightening on her leg, he pressed briefly, then released his hold, letting both hands fall away. Time to deliver a risky message. Cold and distant, he said, “If you believe me to be manipulating you, sub, then perhaps you should find another seat. If you plan to steal my dominance as you stole my time, then please, move away.” He remained still for a moment, then two, seconds stretching to a full minute with neither of them moving.
Stalemate.
No words, no changes in position that could drive them one direction or another. To Kevin, her every breath betrayed her, an immobile posture showing him more clearly than anything else how she feared his rejection. When the trembling began again, he knew what he had to do. It’s got to be me, he thought, knowing that she could no more break the impasse than she could make the scars on her back disappear.
“I would prefer”—he wrapped his arms back around her—“you remain where you are, sub.” He gave her a brief, tender squeeze, then lips beside her ear, whispered, “Because I like you in my lap like this, Aurelie. Sweet and warm, cuddling close as you can get. Giving me all of you. I like you near me. I want this, honey. Want you back. My Aurelie.”
Stiff and unyielding in his arms, she didn’t speak for a moment, then in a nearly inaudible whisper offered him a confession he didn’t expect. Could have never predicted in a million years, because it was a title she had never used with him, but once it was between them, he found it one he wanted more than his next breath. “My Master.”
***
Aurelie
This cannot be my life, she thought, her heart still disbelieving.
When she’d seen him across the room, her feet had locked in place. There could have been a hundred Doms demanding her attention, and she would have been unable to pull her eyes away from him. The one man she longed for with every fiber of her being, in a perverse twist of fates was also the one she most feared encountering.
The moments before he recognized her had been agonizing.
He saw past what I’ve become. Facing front, she kept her eyes aimed to the side of the mirror in the dressing room as she pulled on her street clothes. Blowing a slow, deliberate stream of air between her lips, she consciously relaxed her shoulders, slipping on the façade of calmness like a mask before she walked back out to face him. Kevin.