Sarah’s Billionaire Doms (9 page)

“Like what you see?” Damon asked, sounding more awake.

“You two are distracting,” Sarah admitted, then shook her head. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hold on. I don’t want you prancing outside naked.” Damon reached over towards the chest of drawers, pulled out a faded green shirt and tossed it her. “Wear that.”

Prancing? Sarah didn’t know why she felt an overwhelming need to do just that.

“Don’t even think about it, little subbie,” Damon warned, sounding completely serious. “I don’t want to give the rest of the world a fucking peep show.”

How did the possessive bastard know what she thought? Then again, both Damon and Jared possessed the uncanny ability to predict her thoughts and actions.

Sarah put on the shirt. “Happy?”

“The attitude I can do without,” Damon scoffed.  “Come give Master a good morning kiss.”

Sarah walked up to him, feeling strangely happy. She gave him a quick peck on his unshaven cheek, but he closed a hand on her nape and pulled her close for a more intimate kiss. When he released her, Sarah almost forgot about what she was doing.

“Call James,” she mumbled.

“Brother, let her make the call,” Jared commented from the other end of the bed, sounding sleepy.

“Fine.” Damon grunted. “I’ll take a shower. After I’m done, you better be done.”

“I can make breakfast,” Sarah pointed out.

Damon raised one eyebrow. “You really know how to cook, or do you secretly intend to poison us?”

“What would I do that?” Sarah sighed. “I grew up in a single-parent household. I learned to cook. Pretty good at making pancakes, too.”

Sarah became aware of the weight of Damon’s, and now Jared’s, gazes on her. She swallowed, realizing she casually mentioned something about her past. Michael didn’t like hearing about where she came from because he didn’t like the reminder Sarah was dirt-poor before he entered her life.

“Pancakes sound great, little one. I’m not sure we have the ingredients. Only Rita, the housekeeper who comes in every other day, knows what’s inside the fridge,” Jared said thoughtfully.

“Eggs would do, too.”

“Can’t wait. Now scoot,” Damon told her.

Sarah went out of the room and entered the living room. Waiting for James to pick up, she ran her fingers across the scarred wooden cover of the grand piano. Jared mentioned it belonged to their mother. Hearing the dial tone, Sarah frowned. James didn’t pick up after three calls. Odd. She was about to press the ‘call’ button again, but another incoming call came.

An unregistered number, but Sarah remembered Bobby and James had a couple of phones with them. They valued privacy, so it shouldn’t be surprise one of them kept a phone with an unregistered number.

“Hello?”

“You’ve been very busy, haven’t you, my little cunt wife?” Michael Rivers’ voice had a way of freezing her up, even though it tickled out of a receiver.

Sarah nearly dropped the phone, but she didn’t want to alert Damon or Jared.  She took deep breaths, reminded herself Michael couldn’t hurt her because she had friends. Sarah also had Damon and Jared. She didn’t know much about their past, or their businesses, but she remembered someone at the club mentioning they had connections with either the police or military.

“How did you get this number?” Sarah demanded, glad her voice sounded steady. Michael once possessed the power to wrangle screams and pleas from her, but no longer.

“Did becoming the bitch of those two billionaire brothers make you forget all your training, slut?”

Whatever courage she summoned, evaporated. How did Michael know about Damon and Jared?
God.
Did Michael hire an investigator or worse, a professional, to watch her movements?

“That wasn’t training, just torture,” she whispered. Sarah stared at the piano. It was happening again, the same feeling of complete dread and helplessness washing over her.

“I own you, cunt. Did you really think you can get away? Did you think hiding behind two fuckers with money can protect you?”

“You can’t hurt me anymore.” Sarah knew her resolve began to crumble, and Michael knew it, too.

“You’d like to think that, don’t you? That’s why I took insurance.”

Sarah’s heart stopped beating. “Insurance?”

“I want you to listen very carefully, Sarah. Take it all in.”

Then Sarah heard the clatter of chains and the shrill scream of what sounded like a wounded animal. She recognized the voice. Jesus. Sarah had been wrong all this time. She could never escape Michael.

“Bobby,” she whispered. No wonder James didn’t pick up. Those two had done so much for her. They didn’t deserve to be involved in Michael’s twisted schemes. “Let him go. He didn’t do a thing to you.”

“Who knew those faggots liked women, too, huh? Did they fuck you together, you nasty whore? Then what happened? You moved on to better waters and offered your ass and cunt to those bastard brothers? Tell me, Sarah. Do you watch them fuck each other, too?”

Michael’s words made her sick. No use arguing or denying them, though, because Sarah knew that would only delight him.

Numbly, she said, “What do you want?”

“I want my fucking property back.”

Simple enough.

“Tell me what to do,” Sarah whispered.

She barely heard his instructions, but Michael drilled them to her head nonetheless. It was a skill she’d acquired early in their marriage. Back when Sarah thought she could still change him by being what he wanted—his obedient pianist wife.

Sarah lifted the cover of the piano, fingertips tracing the light film of dust on the black keys.

“I understand. I’ll be there,” she found herself saying.

“You’ve forgotten your basic manners, wife,” Michael said.

Even though she couldn’t see him, Sarah knew he was leering. Generous mouth twisted to a cruel, knowing smile that promised real violence, unlike Damon or Jared.

Sarah knew what Michael wanted to hear, but she couldn’t bring herself to call him ‘Master.’ She didn’t want to taint the title and the memories it evoked.

“I’ll be there, Sir,” she managed to croak.

Michael made a disapproving snort on the other end. Sarah’s nerves were frayed. Nervously, she glanced at the hallway, expecting to see Damon or Jared any moment now. If they asked her what was wrong, she wouldn’t be able to hold it together, even for Bobby’s sake.

“Good enough for now. I’ll have plenty of time to re-educate you, cunt.” Michael cut the connection.

Sarah numbly stared at the phone for a second before placing it down. After everything she’d done to get her life back, Michael only needed one call to shatter her again. She gingerly pulled out the stool and sat. Sarah tested all the major chords, closing her eyes at B major.

Then Sarah made music. Played all her classic favorites for the first time. All this time, she’d been taking up club gigs, and an electronic keyboard was different from the sounds of a grand piano. In clubs, her sound became diluted, lost in the bubble of other instruments and other voices. Here, the sound escaped nowhere.

Music gave her courage. The strength to betray the two men she came to learn to love when she thought Michael had taken away her ability to feel for another human being, let alone two. Maybe some part of her had been relieved. That same part knew all along escape had been inevitable.

The old Sarah died the moment Michael singled her out in that bar. The precious moments she shared with Damon and Jared would eventually fade into a dream. They would be her sole comfort and anchor when Michael punished her for running. Eventually, those memories would feel less real, but she’d hold onto them for as long as she could.

Sarah didn’t know how long she sat there, reliving her favorite pieces. She played until her fingers started aching. When she stopped, she realized Damon and Jared were awake, staring at her.

She could do this. Play along. Give a performance of a lifetime. “I—” Sarah faltered. Her throat clogged up. God. This was so hard. Too painful. “How long have you two been standing there?”

“You said you weren’t good,” Damon said.

Jared came behind her. Sarah tensed, but relaxed when he began massaging her shoulders.

“I’m not,” she murmured.

Damon shook his head. “Jesus, sweetheart. You didn’t tell us you could play like that.”

She let out a laugh. “Any classically trained pianist can play. It doesn’t mean they’re good.”

“Don’t be modest, little one,” Jared said. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “Talent shouldn’t be hidden away.”

“Showing talent drew Michael to me,” Sarah whispered. She pulled away from Jared, feeling conscious of his proximity. Sarah couldn’t bear to be close to either of them because she’d lose her resolve. Jared frowned, but he took a step back, giving her some space.

“Is something on your mind, Sarah?” Damon asked.

Damn. He could be perspective, too, but then she already knew the brothers were good Doms.

“No. I just need to head back. Bobby and James must be worried,” Sarah muttered. She got off of the stool and avoided looking at them in the eye. “Where are my clothes?”

“Sarah, why are you running?” Damon interrupted.

Both men watched her as she fumbled her way through the apartment. It was jarring the way they didn’t grab her and demand why she was acting like an irrational brat. She found her clothes the night before in the laundry room, washed and dried. Sarah’s fingers shook as she began dressing.

“My brother asked you a question,” Jared said. The expressions on their faces were hard to read. “You should know communication is the key to any relationship. Talk to us. Don’t run the moment you get frightened. I thought we reached a breakthrough the night before.”

Sarah paused from yanking up her jeans. Damon and Jared leaned against the doorway leading to the laundry room, effectively blocking the only way out. It stuck her how handsome both men looked. They took up most of the space, huge, dangerous, but they would never hurt her. She couldn’t shake away the memory of last night. How they looked at her like she was someone worth knowing, worthy of having a relationship with.

Damon and Jared might like playing in the dark, but, ultimately, they belonged to the light. Sarah believed, if they waited a little longer, they’d find someone else to share their lives with. Someone who could be all the things they wanted and needed—girlfriend, lover, and sub. Someone who was whole and perfect. 

“I need time to think. Last night overwhelmed me. I’m sorry.” How she could deliver those words with a straight face, she didn’t know. Sarah caught the brief flicker of pain on both men’s faces. She knew it took guts and time for both men to move on after Lisa died.

The signs were there, everywhere in the house. Feminine touches left by a woman. One woman. Damon and Jared did the unthinkable. They promised to leave Lisa’s ghost aside, but they didn’t want Sarah to take Lisa’s place. They wanted to learn how to live again, just like her.

“Don’t you fucking dare run away, Sarah. You have no idea what taking this step means for me and Jared. Prove us wrong. If you leave that door, don’t expect us to go chasing after you,” Damon warned.

But Sarah did know. That was why she needed to deliver the blow, so they’d forget all about her. She pushed her way between them, muscles tensing when Damon grabbed her shoulder.

“Brother, let her go,” Jared said softly.

Insides twisting, Sarah kept on walking. She didn’t hear footsteps following her. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. It couldn’t possibly end like this, could it? What the fuck was she doing, walking out like a thoughtless selfish bitch?

Sarah wanted to turn back, to fall on her knees in front of them and break herself open. Let all her confessions and fears spill out, but Bobby’s life hung in the balance. Was pursuing her own happiness worth risking his life, after all James and Bobby had done for her?

“Sarah!” Damon hollered.

Sarah’s hand froze on the doorway.
Don’t linger. Each second I hesitate, I’ll lose my resolve.
“I love you both,” she whispered, glad no one could hear her out here.

Sarah yanked the door open and ran out. Once in the lift, her stomach churned. She expected one or both men to chase after her, but the hallway remained empty. Tears started coating her cheeks the moment she got out of the elevator. Out on the street now, Sarah stood there, realizing she was back where she started.
Utterly alone.

The phone rang for the third time, shattering the silence in the apartment. Only an hour passed since Sarah’s departure, but Jared couldn’t take it any longer. Jared rose from the dining table, about to reach for it, but Damon’s voice rang out sharply.

“Don’t. Let her think on her actions a little bit more,” Damon said bitingly.

Jared clenched his jaw. “Damon, all three of us reacted badly. Maybe we shouldn’t have mentioned Lisa to her the night before. It’s a heavy load to take in.”

Damon threw him a disgusted look. Jared knew the raw emotions running rampant inside his brother—anger, betrayal, and disappointment—because he felt them intently, too. By bringing Sarah here, they’d given her a gift. Her rejection didn’t just sting. It felt like a blow they couldn’t easily recover from.

“Doesn’t mean she could just turn tail the second she’s unsure, and don’t give me the ‘she’s damaged and needs time’ crap. That’s gotten old.” Damon wasn’t done. At least Damon didn’t keep his frustration and rage bottled up like before. Damon continued, “We fucking bared ourselves to her last night, something we never did after Lisa. She acted like a brat.”

“You’re forgetting she’s what? Twenty-one?” Jared asked dryly.

“Age doesn’t mean a thing, and you know that.”

Again, his brother hammered another point home. Sarah possessed an old and damaged soul encased in a young body. Her maturity was one of the reasons they were drawn to her in the first place. Jared latched onto that thought desperately, refusing to let go. He was onto something, but he only had a rough sketch, not the full picture.

Thinking back, their fight verged on stupidity and irrationality…but in the real world, most major fights could be set off by the tiniest things.