Nobody's Angel (39 page)

Oh, Angie. That perfect Dom only exists in your drea
ms.

At the bottom of the stairs, she turned down the hallway to the kitchen. The smell of coffee and cinnamon assailed her as she entered the room, one or both causing her stomach to churn. Better not attempt to eat anything this morning.

Karla sat facing her at the table, with Adam’s back to her. The woman’s eyes looked like they could spit fire. Angelina wondered if she should leave.

Then Karla noticed her and smiled, her demeanor softening immediately. “Good morning, Angie.” She got up and came over to greet her, just as Adam stood and turned around. The look of pity in his eyes just made her feel worse. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, even if she deserved it. She also saw a bit of remorse there. Now that she’d accept. He could just wallow in it. Doms weren’t supposed to lie to subs. There was a rule about that somewhere, wasn’t there?

But you’re nobody’s sub, Angie
.

Karla stopped in front of her and stood awkwardly, then seemed to come to a decision and wrapped her arms around Angelina. At first, Angelina just stood there, arms at her side. “Please forgive me, Angie. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Angelina realized Karla had just been trying to please Adam. All subs tried to please their Doms. Not that Karla was any closer to finding her perfect Dom than Angelina was. They’d never get there if they kept choosing emotionally unavailable men like Marc and Adam.

Feeling something squeezing her chest, Angelina hugged Karla back. She decided she didn’t want to lose the woman’s fledgling friendship. When the hug ended, they just looked at each other, speaking volumes without saying a word.

“Have some coffee.” She looked over at Adam who extended a mug of the brew toward her. “You can doctor it up any way you’d like.” He pointed to the sugar and creamer on the counter.

“Black’s best. Thanks.” She avoided making eye contact and brought the mug to her mouth, inhaling the aroma as she took a tentative sip. Hot.

“Karla made some cinnamon rolls, if you’re hungry.”

“No, thanks. Coffee will do it for me.”

Adam motioned toward the table. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

Without anywhere to escape to, Angelina knew she’d have to get to where she could at least be civil with Adam while staying in his house. She hoped the conversation wouldn’t turn to Marc, but those hopes were dashed soon after she sat down.

“I’m sorry about the lie that was perpetrated against you in my house,” Adam began. “I told Marc I wanted him to come clean—and soon—but, for whatever reason, he didn’t do so.”

Surprisingly, no tears threatened. Maybe she was getting over him already. “It’s okay. I…”

“No, it’s not okay, hon. You need to get pissed and yell and scream or something. I don’t want you thinking you deserved to be treated this way.”

Okay, if he didn’t stop talking like that and soon, she would start crying again, and she wasn’t going to go there. She looked down at the black liquid in her mug, a reflection of her mood. Maybe he was right. She didn’t usually get silent. She fought back.

Angelina raised her gaze to meet Adam’s. “Why did you go along with it?”

“Because sometimes I’m a damned fool.” He rubbed the back of his neck before meeting her gaze again. “But Doc’s…Marc’s trying to sort some things out right now. He’s been at some kind of crossroads for a while now and you just steamrolled over him while he was standing there deciding which way to go.” Adam smiled. “I thought if he took a couple more days to process whatever’s going on in that thick Italian skull of his—sorry, no disrespect to you—but I thought he’d come to his senses by now and do the right thing.”

Angelina smiled for the first time since last night. “Italian men do tend to be thick-headed.” She sobered again. “But I trusted him, and I don’t trust easily. Why did he lie to me, when he demanded honesty from me?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to ask him. But I’ve known Marc as a friend for seven years and I can tell you lying isn’t in his character. He’s an honorable man. Stubborn, arrogant, and domineering, too.”

“I hadn’t notice,” she said, hoping her voice dripped with the sarcasm she intended. “And why didn’t he come over here and explain himself last night?”

“Marc will climb a Fourteener to avoid confrontation.”

Apparently, that’s not all he liked to avoid.

Karla leaned forward and touched Angelina’s hand. “I’ve only known him a couple months, but I’ve never seen him so taken with any of the women at the club. I think he does care a lot about you, Angie.”

Adam cleared his throat. “I want you to hear this if you hear nothing else, hon. I have no doubt that man would lay his life on the line for you, just as I saw him do for Damián and others in Iraq. He’s a good and decent man. Whatever is going through that confused head of his, he just needs some time to sort it out. Maybe he’ll find some answers up on that mountain. He does his best thinking out in the wilderness.”

Thoughts of Marc’s thriving in the wilderness was just another wedge between them. She could never share that with him. Being out in those mountains terrified her, even though that hadn’t been the case before Papa’s death. The Giardanos had enjoyed camping, hiking, and skiing every chance they could. Angelina was the only one with an aversion to those activities now.

“Look, I’m not saying look the other way. You go ahead and hold his balls to the fire.” Adam looked away. “Sorry. Once a Marine….” He returned his gaze to her and grinned like a little boy.
Like Marc
.

“I’m just saying, demand honesty, hear him out, make him bleed a little, if you need to. But if you want a man to go to the ends of the earth for you, they don’t come much finer than Marc D’Alessio.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The wind whistled through the pass and Marc pulled his parka tighter around his face. The blowing snow stung at his cheeks, but the goggles kept his eyes clear. They’d arrive at Kelso Ridge, the trickiest part of the route, and he needed to keep his wits and his senses clear.

When he arrived at the Knife’s Edge on the ridge, he waited for the six men to catch up. Angelina had been trying to dominate his thoughts since he’d set out this morning. Luckily, the group wasn’t one for chit-chat and they had experience, so he could lead them without worrying too much. They were single-minded in their goal of ticking two more Fourteeners off their bucket lists. Sadly, they hardly stopped to take in the incredible beauty around them.

His majestic mountains, where he was restored. Renewed. Rejuvenated. Here on the top of his world, all of the disappointments and failures in his life faded away and the future spread out before him like snowy peaks shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. Magical. Up here, he experienced peace. Freedom.

The mountains didn’t confine him. One thing he hated more than anything was the feeling of having no options, being forced into something that wasn’t right for him.

Trapped.

He’d run away from managing the family resort in Aspen, where that same trapped feeling had nearly strangled him, pulling him away from the mountains where he belonged. He’d not only lived in the shadow of the mountains then, but in the shadow of his dead brother. He could never measure up, never do anything to make his parents proud of him for who he was.

In the Navy and the Marines, he’d done a lot of growing up, found himself, started thinking about someone other than himself for the first time in his life. He’d found people who needed him, respected him for who he was, and, in Adam and Damián, who loved him unconditionally.

A place where he belonged.

When he returned to Colorado, these mountains had beckoned like a siren to this sailor. Here, his mind and body healed. Climbing and hiking were nearly impossible at first, while still healing. But each day, he’d climbed a little higher, growing stronger. The freedom was exhilarating. No cares or concerns.

On top of his world again.

Nothing had ever given him the same feeling. Not even sex, which was too fleeting. These mountains were eternal. Not a care in the world. Escape.

Until today.

The restlessness that had hounded him during the night had stayed with him for the entire hike. The further up the mountain he climbed, the more drained he felt. Anxious. For the first time, the mountains pulled him away from where he wanted to be. Where he belonged.

Angelina
. Even the wind seemed to whisper her name.

He realized he needed her here to experience this beauty with him. Without her, it felt…empty. All of the meaning was gone. He wanted to be with Angelina, whether in the middle of a crowded, busy city like Denver or up in his peaceful mountains.

But he’d fucked up any chance with her. If he hadn’t been running scared last night, he would have gone to her and explained. He’d hurt her, then done nothing to comfort her afterward.

He was no better than Sir Asshole.

How could she ever forgive him? He ached to be with her, hold her in his arms, bury himself so deep inside her they wouldn’t be able to tell where one ended and the other began.

He belonged with Angelina.

They belonged together.

One.

Not telling her who he was before he entered the temporary Dom/sub agreement with her had just been his way of sabotaging any future relationship they might have. He realized he’d been running scared all his life.

But not anymore. Maybe he couldn’t get back to her until tomorrow, but by God when he did, he’d make amends. He’d find some way to show her she was made for him—and he for her. Would she be at the club tomorrow night? Adam had assured him via text he wouldn’t take her home while Allen Martin was around.

He pulled out his sat phone and had to laugh. There really were few wilderness places left anymore where modern technology couldn’t reach. While he carried the phone for emergencies, he’d never been so happy for technology than he was right now. If this wasn’t an emergency, he didn’t know what one was.

* * *

Angelina and Karla carried in their packages from the car. Adam had insisted they go to Denver’s “hootchie” clothing shops, as Karla called them, on Broadway. Apparently, he took Karla there often, because all of the shopkeepers knew them by name and even pulled out special items they’d ordered with Karla in mind.

Adam told her Luke would be escorting her to the club tonight. Being escorted seemed a bit superfluous, considering she’d just walk down the hallway to a separate section of the house she’d been staying in, but she’d go along with whatever. She really didn’t care. It would fill the time until she could convince Luke to take her home this weekend.

When Adam chose several outfits that would fulfill every man’s fantasy and told Angelina to try them on, she’d balked. But he gave her the “Dom” look and, after a ka-thunk moment of her own, she found herself loaded down with outfits and accessories, heading for the dressing rooms.

School girl. Nurse. Harem slave. French maid. At least he didn’t insist on seeing how they looked on her. Adam said there was a costume theme at the club on Wednesdays in October, but that she would be wearing the nurse’s outfit tonight. No discussion.

Karla had chosen a black latex, skin-tight short skirt and a red corset. She’d added over-the-knee stiletto patent-leather boots with five-inch platform heels, a black hat with a pheasant feather, and a red-feather eye mask to finish the ensemble. Well, Angelina supposed it was a costume.

Angelina and Karla had followed Adam’s instructions to a T. The club owner certainly enjoyed telling women how to dress. Of course, it made sense he would care about how Karla dressed, because she worked at his club. But he’d taken just as much time to make sure Angelina’s purchases fit whatever fantasies he thought Luke might have.

Adam also chose their shoes, stockings, and lingerie. She blushed at the level of detail the man knew about women’s undergarments. Well, he’d probably undressed many of them over the years. At least the shoes didn’t have five-inch fuck-me heels. He specified she was not to choose anything higher than three inches. Very considerate of him, but she was secretly happy; anything higher killed her feet. She also chose a white-feather eye mask to go with the nurse’s outfit.

Lordy, if her mother could see how she’d be dressed in a semi-public setting, she’d have started a novena of prayers for the redemption of her soul. Angelina never would have chosen those items—singularly or together—especially at the obscene prices they charged for such skimpy outfits. But he insisted there was no limit on cost, provided they selected items he approved.

She’d actually had fun shopping, though. Not that she had a clue where she’d ever wear any of the costumes back in Aspen Corners.

After they had finished shopping, Adam had taken them to have a late lunch at a restaurant near the club. Unfortunately, the Italian cuisine was uninspiring and very little of it was fresh. They needed a new chef.

By the time the three returned to the club, it was after five and she and Karla went upstairs to dress. She couldn’t wait to see Karla perform tonight.

Angelina stood in front of the mirror. No way. The bustier under the nurse’s uniform created lots of cleavage that spilled through the deep-cut vee. The skirt barely covered her butt cheeks, accentuating her wide hips. Sure, it had been low-cut and short when she tried it on at the shop, but she hadn’t tried it on with the bustier—and having the white garters peeking out, holding up the white-mesh stockings, just made it look…too sexy. And white open-toed mules? Like a nurse would wear something like that while on her feet all day long. She’d pulled her hair up into a clip hidden underneath the vintage 1960s nurse’s hat

A knock at the bedroom door captured her attention.

“It’s me, Angie.” She opened the door to find Karla in her funky outfit. “Oh. My. God! Angie, you look fantastic! I love it!”

“Oh, please, Karla. No way am I going into the club looking like this.”

Karla’s eyes grew wide. “But Adam said to…I mean Master Adam—I keep forgetting that’s how I’m supposed to address him on club nights. You can’t disobey him.”