Playing Hard to Master (20 page)

“Nobody cares if we stand around there,” the man said, gesturing at the sidewalk. In his dark eyes, she saw her own desperation, her own resentment from years of pain. She would bet a million dollars this man had a history a lot like hers. “They won’t care unless we make them care.”

“Getting arrested won’t fix anything,” she explained.

At the angry shouts around her, panic struck. She didn’t want anyone thrown in jail because of her. That wasn’t supposed to be how this went down.

She turned and looked at them. “Get off the road. Please!”

But it was too late. A team of officers descended upon them. Some of the crowd fled to the sidewalk once they saw the police were serious. She was still encouraging people to move when she felt a hand grip her arm.

She spun, expecting Chloe or Max to be there, trying to drag her to the sidewalk, but instead she came face-to-face with a uniformed man, wearing sunglasses and holding out a set of handcuffs.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

“Yup.” He slipped the handcuffs on her wrists behind her back and started reading her the Miranda rights.

Dozens of protests, and she’d always managed to avoid arrest. Some people would say she was a real protestor now, but she just felt stupid and irresponsible. How many others had she gotten in trouble?

As she was driven away in the back of the squad car, she had a hard time not letting her emotions get the best of her. Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. God, did she have to be a failure at everything?

Her life was falling apart. First, Ambrose. And now this. The word “failure” should have been stamped on her forehead. She’d thought she was past the point of feeling like she had as a child, but here she was. Back in the line of fire. Failing at life, just as her estranged family had predicted. Her poor mother was going to be so disappointed. At least she was away with Jimmy for the weekend, but that meant calling her for bail wasn’t even an option—not that she wouldn’t be too ashamed to anyway. All Lysette had ever wanted was for Everly to make something of herself. Instead, now she had a criminal record and a destiny as a lonely cat lady.

Not that being single was bad for some people—but she wanted children someday, and she wanted them to have a father. And she wanted sex. Good, kinky sex with someone who loved her.

It was easy to blame Ambrose now that he was gone. He’d ruined all other men for her. Not only because he’d lied and broken her trust, but because she’d had mind-blowing kinky sex with a dominant that suited her perfectly. What were the chances she’d ever find that again? Even if she settled and dated another guy, she’d be constantly comparing him to Ambrose and coming up disappointed.

After the officer put her information into the computer and took her fingerprints, he locked her in the holding cell with about a dozen other women—mostly from the protest.

Letting out a long sigh, she plopped down on one of the benches. Nothing made you contemplate your life’s direction more than being stuck in a holding cell that stank like urine, with no one to call for bail.

Shit.

There was one person.

Could she swallow her pride enough to do it, or should she spend the night here? Her body was too drained for a terrible night’s sleep. Her emotions were spent—she’d break down sobbing any minute if she didn’t get out of there soon. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere warm and cry. God, she sounded like such a baby. She hated not being able to deal with shit she’d gotten herself into.

And what about all the other people here? Maybe she should have explained the rules better, warned them what could happen if they weren’t careful to follow the law regarding peaceful protests. She’d built up a pretty decent savings account—money she’d been tucking away in case of an emergency. It was probably enough to pay bail for the people she’d gotten into this mess. It was only fair to get them out of it. But she had to shift things around in her accounts, so it couldn’t happen tonight.

Ugh.
She was so fucking tired.

There was nobody she hated worse than herself right now. Not even Ambrose.

But Ambrose might be the only one who could help her. Not just her, but the innocent people she’d landed here. If he could front her the money, she could set things right.

When the police officer handed her the phone, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and dialed his number.

“You’re one sorry sack of shit, you know that?” Konstantin grinned at him. “Give me your phone.”

“Fuck you. I’m not giving you my phone.” He stared at Konstantin morosely and stretched out on his friend’s ultramodern sofa, feeling like he was in a space-age psychiatrist’s office. So maybe he’d called Everly way too many times and was turning into a pathetic moron. It wasn’t like he had anything left to lose.

“Have some fucking self-respect. Quit calling her. At this point she probably thinks you’re annoying and pathetic, if not a stalker. Even if she’d been thinking about taking you back, how could she ever take you seriously as a Master if you’re groveling like a slave?” Konstantin was petting the girl in his lap as though she were his pet cat. “Slave, should Masters ever grovel?”

Sindee’s eyes widened at suddenly being addressed. “I don’t know, Master. I suppose a Master can do whatever he likes.”

Ambrose chuckled in spite of himself, and Sindee tried to suppress a smile.

Konstantin blinked like he was in pain. “Just agree with me, woman. If I want your honest opinion, I’ll beat it out of you.”

She squirmed in his lap, giggling. “Is that a promise?”

Her master arched a brow at her, and she somehow managed to shrink back without getting off his lap. Talented. “If you have the slightest shred of self-preservation, then yes. I’m not interested in dealing with a bratty girl today.”

She pouted at him, and he kissed her on the forehead.

As much as Ambrose was indifferent about Konstantin’s toy girls, the short, affectionate interaction reminded him of what he’d lost with Everly. It was hard to find a girl that understood his need for both mastering and playfulness, instead of having an unreasonably severe dynamic. Sure, he was a serious guy at times, but life was too short to spend it glaring at the woman he loved. Everly was full of fun, and yet responded instinctively to his style of mastery, giving him a run for his money at times, but still obedient when it was important.

He must have stared at the girl too long without meaning to, because Konstantin raised his brows and gestured to her. “I’ve told you before, if you want to play with her, you don’t even have to ask. She’s already told me she’s more than willing. Or we could share her, if you’d prefer.”

Sindee bit her lip and eyed him nervously.

“Don’t mind her—I told her how big your dick is a while back, and she’s talked of nothing else since. It’s a good thing I’m not a jealous man, at least not when it comes to you and Banner.”

Nothing about sex even interested Ambrose since Everly left, except for the occasional dream he woke from where his brain tricked him into thinking she was still next to him in bed.

“It’s been weeks. All you do is work. You won’t pull yourself out of this if you never do anything fun.”

Ambrose attempted to entertain the idea.

She’d
left
him
. She wasn’t answering his texts or his phone calls. It felt like his history with Shae was repeating itself, except this time he knew it was his fault. Maybe he hadn’t been engaged to Everly, but it didn’t matter, because his connection with her had run deep—even deeper than things had been with Shae. But no matter how important Everly had become to him, they were over now.

For all he knew, Everly was off playing with other men and sleeping with them. Maybe she even had a new boyfriend. But even if Sindee had been his type, she still wasn’t Everly.

Just thinking her name made his chest ache.

Konstantin groaned and hid his face in Sindee’s hair. “Do you see? He plans on wallowing in his guilt and self-loathing for the rest of his life.” He coaxed the girl up off his lap. “Go to him now and make him happy.”

Sindee recovered her usual self-assured demeanor and stalked over to him with feline grace, as though she didn’t have the slightest hesitation about doing what her Master asked. When he realized she wasn’t going to balk, Ambrose sat up quickly and raised a staying hand.

“Thank you for being willing to help, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“If she seriously broke up with you just because you’re rich, she’s a twit.” Sindee shook her head, and went back to Konstantin’s lap. “If she’s not interested in you, I have about a million friends who’d be more than willing to wait in line just to be introduced. Like me, for instance. When Konstantin’s new little wife comes, keep me and Anna in mind. You guys are fun to hang out with, you treat your slaves like gold, and the fact that you have money means we get spoiled. If she’s thinks she’s too good for you, she should give her head a shake.”

Sindee was interested in his love life? She was interested in him? It was an awkward conversation, considering she was sitting in his best friend’s lap, but at least she and Anna didn’t think he was an asshole.

“I’m not ready to give up on her.” The swell of emotion that came when he thought about walking away from Everly permanently thickened his throat and gave him a headache. He couldn’t just forget about her. And if it took her weeks, or even years, to come back to him, he’d fucking wait. Waiting for her, even if there was the slightest chance, was worth every miserable second.

His mind drifted to the passionate way she talked about human rights, and dignity for the poor, the fire that lit her from within. The way she challenged how he saw the world. Everly was so much more than a sexy girl with kink on her mind. She was that, of course, but there was a depth to her that had slowly been changing him, too, making him see where he was lacking as a person and challenging him to grow—to be worthy of her.

There was no moving on when the person who had become his life wanted nothing to do with him.

*   *   *

Flipping through the seven zillion channels he had access to was completely unsatisfying, considering none of them had a live feed of her day. He’d settle for seeing her do almost anything. All he had of her was three pictures on his phone, one of which he’d printed out and put in a frame. It was grainy but better than nothing.

Pitiful.

And why hadn’t he taken more photos when they were together? Idiot. He’d been too busy enjoying their life together

It should have been a good day. He’d gotten through a whole hour and a half without feeling like someone had gutted him, because he’d been dealing with a situation at the office.

Now, alone at home with no work to do, his house felt huge and ridiculous and excessive. Why
did
one person need all this space? Maybe one of those really small homes, like he’d seen on TV, would be better for him. A house this big needed more people—like a wife and children, or maybe a small village—to fill it. Everything he owned that was expensive made him feel ashamed. How much wealth was too much for one person? But at the same time, was he supposed to give everything away? He’d tried asking Banner and Ambrose what they thought, which had turned into a long philosophical discussion about capitalism, but they hadn’t answered his questions.

He stopped flipping channels when he got to one that showed wide-eyed, starving children in rags. Maybe even giving his money away wasn’t enough. Maybe he should go back to school to become a doctor or something, so he could do some real good in the world.

No wonder she hated him.

This was stupid. What he needed to do was get off his ass and go to The Catacombs and hang out with the guys. They’d invited him to go, but he’d declined, saying he was going to make himself a big dinner. Instead he’d sat on the couch as though he’d rooted there. Being around Kon with his girls and Banner with his new wife would only feed his pity party.

The phone rang, and he realized with annoyance that he’d left it on the kitchen island. Too far. Four more rings and voicemail would kick in. Three. Two. At the last second, he lurched up from the couch and sprinted into the kitchen to get the phone, hoping he hadn’t exerted himself for a telemarketer or the guys nagging him to quit being a loser and meet them at the dungeon.

“Hello?”

There was silence for a moment, and he rolled his gaze to the ceiling, waiting for an automated telemarketer spiel to begin.

“Ambrose?” The voice was so quiet he barely heard it over his own breathing.

“Yes?”

“I . . . You can hang up on me if you want, but I had no one else to call. My mom is out of town with her boyfriend.”

Everly? His heart struggled to find its rhythm again. “No, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” He could almost hear his heart pounding in his throat.
Ask me for anything, and it’s yours.

“I was at a protest today.”

“Oh. For what? I hope it went well.” Okay, so that wasn’t the smoothest response, but talking to her at all, after so long, made him panic about saying the wrong thing.

“Not so well, actually. I—I need someone to come bail me out.”

Ambrose blinked at the sugarcane in the vase on his counter. “Bail you out?” he asked stupidly. Hearing her voice was such a surprise that he was having trouble focusing on what she was saying.

“I’m in a holding cell at the police station.” She said it so quietly that, for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. “There was some trouble. A few of the people we recruited to come with us got out of hand, and when I was trying to clear people off the street, I got arrested for blocking the intersection. It’s just a temporary loan. I have the money, I just have to shift things around. It won’t take long, I swear.”

“Bail for you blocking an intersection shouldn’t be much.” Ambrose put on his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet, and ran out to his car with the cell phone still pressed against his ear.

“Um. Actually,” she hesitated, “I was wondering if I could borrow some money to bail everyone out. It’s my fault they’re here, and I feel just awful about it. I can’t leave while they’re stuck here. It would be wrong and selfish. But I have the money and I’d pay you back with interest. It would take me a week at the most. I’d understand if you didn’t want to. I can just stay here and wait for my mom to get back. Really, it’s not a big d—”

“Everly.” He stopped her rambling when it sounded like she was about to cry. “Of course I’ll bail you out. And your friends. We’ll talk about repaying me later.” As if he’d let her. “I’m on my way. I’m getting in my car now. Stay put.” As if she were going anywhere. Idiot.

He could hear how badly her pride was wounded having to ask him for help like this. She was an independent woman, and would probably have had a hard time asking him even when they were together.

When he got downtown, he parked across from the police station and pumped money into the meter. How long did this sort of thing take? Oh well, a possible ticket was the least of his concerns.

Inside, there was no line. Still, he probably wore a path pacing the tile floor, waiting for them to get her. When Everly emerged, he was so relieved that he almost hugged her. Instead he stalled in front of her, not sure what to do.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to get out of here.” She was more beautiful than he remembered, even with tired eyes and some dirt smudged on her nose.

He hovered around her, the overwhelming urge to protect her making him feel crazy.

It took a long while to arrange bail for all of the protesters who’d been arrested, and put them in cabs home, but eventually everything got done.

They walked back to his car, and he helped her in, then he slid behind the wheel. “What would you like? Are you hungry?”

“I’m hungry, but I’m not in the mood sit in a restaurant right now. I’m fine. I’ll just make myself some toast when I get home.”

“After everything that happened to you today, I can’t let you have toast for dinner. I had a big meal planned, but I haven’t started cooking yet. Do you want to come over? No strings attached. If that’s too awkward, I can just grab the stuff from my place and we could go over to your apartment.” Maybe his fingers had tightened around the steering wheel, but she was too distracted to notice. He tried to keep his breathing normal, but if she said yes to this, maybe she’d give him a chance to explain.

“I’d like that. Thank you, Ambrose.” Her eyes were red-rimmed.

Thoughts were nagging at him, and he had to ask. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t need to go to the hospital or something?”

She looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Why on earth would I need to go to the hospital?”

Ambrose was glad for the chaotic traffic because it meant he couldn’t just sit there and stare at her like a lovesick puppy. Until he asked the questions, though, his protective side wouldn’t shut the hell up. “No one, uh, was too familiar with you? You didn’t get beaten when you were in the shower or something?”

“I was in a holding cell in the police station for a few hours, not in prison.” She rolled her eyes. “There was absolutely no reason for me to take a shower, and no one made me their bitch while I was there, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He relaxed back into his seat, and realized how cold he was. He cranked the heat in his car, but it didn’t substitute for the fact that he’d forgotten to wear a jacket. Adrenaline had probably kept him warm up until now.

“Sorry, I was already worried,” he admitted, feeling ridiculous. “This was just the icing on the cake.”

“Worried?”

“Just about how you were doing. I know you’re a grown-up and you don’t need my help, but . . .” It probably wasn’t the right time to bring this up, so he changed the subject. “When we get back to my place, I’ll call my lawyer to find out who the best criminal defense lawyer is in town. Don’t worry about anything—I’ll take care of it.”

Everly laughed dryly. “I’m getting the impression that if I’d tried to kill you, you’d still hire me a lawyer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you tried to kill me, I’d just pull you over my lap and paddle your ass until you were a very sorry girl.”
Shit.
He seriously just said that out loud? “Fuck, I’m sorry. I had so many different things I wanted say to you rehearsed, but you’re in my car for five minutes and I’m automatically threatening to punish you.”

“Some habits die hard.” She shrugged. “Anyway, you slipped. I get it. You just bailed me out of jail. I’m hardly going to give you a hard time about a little teasing.”