Forever Wicked

The next evening, he’d spotted her out of uniform, entering Dominion with Thorpe, who both escorted and explained. Jason hadn’t wasted a second before approaching her. The Dungeon Master had introduced the beauty as Greta. An oddly German name for an obviously Italian girl, but he accepted that she’d chosen a club name as a way to protect her anonymity, especially important since she worked in law enforcement.



They’d talked that first night for hours, mostly about the lifestyle, what she secretly yearned for, what she wanted to understand…and what he would be more than happy to give her.



For over a blissful year, Jason had. Casually at first, of course. He purposely didn’t form attachments to others. It wasn’t logical when so many merely sought him for his net worth. But from the start, his wife had been different.



Over time, she’d grown from an anxious novice, unsure if she truly wanted to pursue the lifestyle, to an eager, if somewhat willful submissive. During those months, he’d learned her beautiful soul, and their connection had grown. Shockingly, she lacked interest in his money or stature. At first, he’d wondered if her silence on the subject was a ploy to disarm him. Then his infatuation had kicked in, and he’d stopped thinking altogether.



When he’d been foolish enough to make their relationship permanent, everything had gone to hell. Now he had a wound with her name on it. He’d tried to patch and heal it…but he’d never been successful. Since Jason wasn’t accustomed to failing, the bleeding bothered him even more.



“Hi, Denning.” Thorpe stepped out of the shadows. “It’s been weeks since you’ve darkened these halls. What are you doing here tonight? Not a lot of action.”



Thorpe leaned against the wall, his pose seemingly casual. Bullshit. Nothing the man ever did lacked purpose.



Jason shrugged. Thorpe was one of the few who knew he’d married “Greta” and that it hadn’t worked out. Thankfully, he’d never asked questions.



Unfortunately, Jason had a hard time maintaining a similar silence. “Have you heard from her?”



Thorpe cocked his head. “Greta is no longer a member here.”



That made Jason stiffen and his seeping wound throb. “That’s not her name. Don’t treat me as if I don’t know any better. I’m her fucking husband.”



“My apologies.” Thorpe’s tone was smooth and somehow not apologetic at all. “Gia is no longer a member, then.”



“She let her fees lapse? I’ll pay them.”



“No. She called me last month to revoke them. I refunded her the unused portion.”



“And it didn’t occur to you to call me first?” He tried not to sound like he was seething.



Apparently calling him hadn’t occurred to Gia, either. In fact, she had reached out to the club owner before she’d contacted her own husband. More unexpected pain whacked him. Dominion had been his first common thread with her. The place had brought them together. And she had renounced it without a word.



“Gia asked me not to. I respected her privacy, just like I do everyone in this club.”



Just then, a petite pixie of a brunette padded through the dungeon with her phone pressed to her ear and a grin on her face. Her tinkling laughter somehow brightened the room. Even from a distance, Jason saw her blue eyes dance with a hint of mischief.



No way Thorpe failed to miss it, either.



“You mean like you’re protecting Callie’s privacy now?” Jason drawled.



“She’s different.”



“How?” he questioned. “Unless I miss my guess, she’s on the phone with Sean. She accepted his collar months ago, but you’re eavesdropping on her conversation like whatever she says or does is still your business.”



Thorpe watched the beauty as if he’d forfeit a limb for the chance to touch her. Once, the two of them had been close—not lovers, but certainly more than friends. Jason had no idea what had caused their rift, but clearly the club owner wasn’t letting go. And as Callie stole a longing glance at her boss, Jason knew Thorpe’s feelings weren’t one-sided.



“Listen to me because I’m only going to say this once.” Thorpe clenched his jaw. “I protect every woman who passes through those doors, regardless of who or what they require shielding from. Your wife chose this separation. I’m respecting her wishes. I suggest you do the same.”



“Do you enjoy the distance between you and Callie these days?” Jason watched the woman end her call with a happy little sigh that left him little doubt she had feelings for Sean. Thorpe looked ready to spit nails. “I don’t think so, but you let it happen. That’s your choice. Good for you. But I didn’t ask for this separation from Gia.”



“I understand,” Thorpe said.



Regardless of the platitude, the man wasn’t going to budge. Thorpe, of all people, should fucking comprehend how agonizing this situation was.



Cursing under his breath, Jason resisted an unusually violent urge and tried and another tactic.



“I can’t find my wife. I’m worried about her. She was going through a great deal of personal trauma when we split. She sold her house, disconnected her number. I don’t know if she’s all right or needs my help. She’s my responsibility.”



“She’s my client. I’ve sworn to protect her privacy. Sorry.”



His empty apology nearly yanked the leash off Jason’s inner caveman. Maybe being alone for the last eleven and a half months had finally unhinged him. Maybe it was that damn hollow ache gashing his chest and infecting his judgment. Maybe seeing his mother had shown him the future he now stared down. Whatever.



“That’s not putting my fears to rest.” He gritted between clenched teeth.



“I can’t help you.”



Jason didn’t want to argue with Thorpe. The man was as bendable as steel. But he refused to give up because he wasn’t going to heal without seeing Gia again. “Tell me something. What would you do if Callie left Dominion—and you—without warning?”



Thorpe’s face tightened as he searched for the right response. “There is no place she can go where I won’t find her.”



Jason saw his opportunity and seized it. “But what if she disappeared? Wouldn’t you goddamn look for her and want to chew the head off of anyone who kept her from you?”



With a sigh, Thorpe sized him up. Resolution crossed his face. “Come into my office and have a drink. We’ll talk.”



That sounded like as much fun as a lobotomy, but it was progress. Besides, the Dungeon Master had left him little choice.



After trailing the man into his well-appointed office, Jason sat in a cushy leather chair. Thorpe lifted a cut crystal decanter of Scotch from a heavy cabinet and poured him a glass. With a nod, Jason took it. “Thanks.”



After rounding his sizeable desk, Thorpe sank into what could only be called his throne. “Start at the beginning and fill in the blanks for me. Tell me what I’m not seeing in this picture.”



In other words, Thorpe would intervene only if he heard the facts and decided the situation warranted his help. Jason didn’t particularly like the idea of the other man as judge and jury.



“You know the basics.” He really didn’t want to air his dirty laundry. He revisited the moments he and Gia had shared enough in his head.



Yes, he could hire a private investigator, but he knew exactly how that would chafe Gia’s independent nature. He would find her again, but she’d be too mad to speak to him. If he wanted to locate his wife and have any chance of reconciling with her, he had to play this Thorpe’s way.



Leaning back in his seat with a sigh, Jason tried to decide where to start. Not the first big scene he’d set up with “Greta” at Lakeside Park late one night. His wife had exhibitionist urges—and a lot of Catholic good-girl upbringing to overcome. She’d been unable to let go that night, and it had become a disaster.



He’d recovered quickly and staged another scene at Dominion a few days later, more private but still public enough to give her a thrill. Logan Edgington, another member of Dominion, and his wife Tara, at the time an FBI agent in field training, had witnessed his lovely sub stripping down to her skin, exposing her newly waxed pussy, then masturbating for her unknown audience. She’d surrendered to him entirely, giving him every bit of her body for the very first time. Jason still remembered how perfect she felt clinging to him, clutching his cock inside her snug little cunt. He’d suspected even before then that “Greta” was special, but that nooner had sealed the deal.



No sense in spilling those details to the club owner. Because Logan had seen it, the former SEAL had undoubtedly shared it with his buddy Thorpe. Even if Logan hadn’t, Thorpe somehow knew most everything that happened under his roof.



Jason swirled the Scotch in his glass. Where to begin? Not the early days of their courtship, but later…when she’d finally trusted him with her real name, when everything between them had become genuine. The beginning of the end.



“Last November, I invited Gia to a benefit dinner for the homeless. It raised money for a shelter and kicked off a coat drive. She’d seen enough of my life by then to know that we’d be photographed and that people would speculate. At first, she told me that she didn’t own a dress fancy enough for a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner. I offered to take care of it. She insisted I take the money I would have spent on her ticket and a dress and donate it because those people needed it far more than she did. She was the first woman I’d ever met who turned down money.”



Thorpe sipped his drink. “And that shocked you.”



“Completely. I was already infatuated with her. But her selflessness…did something to me.” And he’d never recovered.



He swallowed, remembering that he’d driven to her house that night, uninvited, and fucked her like a man possessed. She’d been surprised, but welcoming. Happy, even. The night had been extraordinary, and he’d realized then that he hadn’t scened or had sex with anyone else since meeting her. He hadn’t wanted to. A first for him.



“The next day, Gia called me because she’d heard on the news that the same foundation would be serving an early Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless downtown and that I would be there helping. She surprised me again by asking if she could come along to lend a hand. When she refused the benefit dinner, I’d wondered if she didn’t want to be seen with me and gossiped about. But no. She really just didn’t want to take money that would help the needy. Instead of accepting a Versace gown so I could wine and dine her, she offered to donate food, cook, clean—whatever we needed.”



Jason had seen Gia’s big heart and lost his head. As he’d stood beside her and dished out trays of food to the homeless, he had totally fallen for her. A pressing need to make her utterly his assailed him. He’d been unable to talk himself out of it, so he’d set the wheels in motion.



“Your wife is a good person. I understand the circles you were raised in. A big heart is both very rare and very attractive.” Thorpe looked out the open door of his office and spied on Callie, tidying up around the silent dungeon—and sneaking a peek Thorpe’s way.



The yearning on the man’s face told Jason that he did, in fact, perfectly comprehend.



“The day after Thanksgiving, I took Gia to dinner.” He gave a self-deprecating grin. “If I’d been thinking, I would have realized that The Mansion on Turtle Creek wouldn’t have been her first choice. I probably also would have chosen a more modest engagement ring, something more her style.”



Thorpe looked mildly amused. “How big was it?”



“The center stone was about five carats, cushion cut, set in platinum with another two carats surrounding it. I might have gone overboard.”



“Might?” Thorpe raised a brow.



Jason shrugged. “Okay, so I did. My wife isn’t a little thing like Callie, but the ring looked huge on her hand. I don’t even know if she liked it. She didn’t say a word other than ‘yes.’”



That had been one of the happiest nights of his life. Gia was the most genuine person he knew, and she made him look at everything in a different light. With her around, he could be more generous and grateful, even optimistic. Other than an isolated childhood, life had been pretty damn good to him. But she’d made everything perfect for that idyllic forty-eight hours.



“You hustled her to Vegas the next day?” Thorpe asked, though he knew the answer.



After keeping her in his bed all night long. “I did. I wasn’t going to give her any time to change her mind. By that Saturday afternoon, we were married. We had the penthouse at The Venetian, along with all the room service and champagne we could consume.”



And they’d had each other. That incredible night—the only he’d ever spent with her as his wife—was forever etched in his memory. Hands down, it had been the best of his life.