Zurlo, Michele - Two Masters for Samantha [Awakenings 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (33 page)

“If your mother didn’t like her life, why did she stay?”

Stefano shrugged. He had finished setting the kitchen to rights, but he faced the counter, leaving Sam to stare at his back to try to gauge his emotions. “Lex and I used to ask her that when Dad wasn’t around.”

“And?” Maybe it wasn’t any of her business, but Sam couldn’t help it. Why would he tell her these things if he didn’t want her to know?

He faced her now. “She said she loved him. She said she knew who he was when she married him.”

Sammy wanted to go to him. She wanted to put her arms around him and soothe away the pain of his memories, but she knew he didn’t want that, not yet.

“It seems to me that he didn’t love her back.” Stefano shrugged and studied the floor. “I honestly don’t know. Sometimes, it seemed like he did. Mostly, he was just a dick. I’m not like him, and neither is Alexei.”

Sam came to him then, stopping just in front of where he stood. “What made it seem like he loved her?”

“Sometimes, it was the way he looked at her. Though he had plenty of opportunity, he never cheated on her and he doesn’t really date now that she’s gone. If he needs to attend a function, he usually goes alone.” Stefano shook his head. “Lex and I spent so much of our lives mad at him that I can honestly say we don’t know him that well. Nobody does.”

Sam lifted her hand and caressed his cheek with her fingertips. He made his parents out to be two very lonely people. “It sounds like your mom did.”

“I’m not mad at him anymore. Lex is.” Stefano’s fingers encircled hers, stopping her soothing touch. “Regardless, Sammy, we won’t treat you that way. If you want to help clear the dishes, you can, but that’s not something either of us will ever order you to do. We have a housekeeper. She’s not here now because we gave her the weekend off when we found out you were coming.
Rosa
tolerates us and she keeps the house in order. That’s not your job.”

Sam studied his face. His nostrils flared and color threatened to suffuse his skin. He was holding his temper in check, but just barely. It was another difference. Sam knew that Alexei would have let out his fury. Stefano’s eyes, usually a dark blue, were almost black. She wanted to soothe him so very badly. She wanted to take away his pain, but it ran too deep and it had gone on for too long.

“I like you, Sammy. Lex does, too. We don’t ever want you to be anyone other than who you are. Maybe we’ll strip you naked and paddle your ass every day, but we won’t do it because we have some warped sense of what kind of person you should be.”

Wetness rushed between her legs. Well aware that this was not the time for the kind of play he described, Sammy squeezed them together and fought her desire. “You’ll do it because I like when you do it.”

He kissed her palm and released her hand. Sammy was disappointed until he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. His lips hovered an inch away. She wanted to close the distance, but she was already on her tiptoes. He had all the power. “Will you show me your website?”

Blinking her surprise, Sammy jerked away. She didn’t mean to leave his embrace, but he let go, allowing her the freedom to respond without dominating her senses or her personal space.

“Why do you want to see that?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Your art is important to you. That makes it important to me. I want to know you, Sammy. I know you’ve only agreed to give it the weekend, but I already know I want more from you.”

Samantha crossed her arms over her chest and backed away. The only person who ever hung her pictures or her paintings were her relatives. That didn’t count. Sabrina had expressed appreciation for several of Sam’s paintings, but Sabrina was polite and nice, and now she was family. She didn’t count, either.

Then there was the fact that Stefano said he wanted more. More what? She focused on that. He would forget his request if she changed the subject. “I think I can do another weekend in about three weeks. I have to work.” She pushed at her hair. It wasn’t in her face, but it gave her hands something to do. Airfare was going to kill her budget. She frowned. “Maybe five weeks.”

Stefano’s smile was a study in arrogance. “Sammy, I’m not talking about a fetish weekend, though this will definitely happen again. I mean I want to see you. I want to talk to you on the phone and ask how your day went. I want to take you out to dinner and meet your parents. I’m pretty sure I met them at the wedding, but we weren’t an item then.”

Her mind reeled. “Stef, I think you’re ignoring two things. First, I live a long way away. Long distance relationships never work. Second, what about Alexei?”

Stef shrugged. “I haven’t discussed this with him. If he wants to see you again, he’ll have to tell you that himself.” He closed the distance, insinuating himself in her senses. “I have my own jet, Sammy. Maybe it’ll take a little longer to get from here to there, but we can make it work if we really want it to work.”

Oh, the complications of what he proposed would make her head pound if she considered them now. She focused on the feel of his arms around her. “Let me think about it, Stef. The weekend isn’t over and I’m still trying to wrap my head around this Dom/sub thing. I don’t even know how this might begin to work as a relationship.”

He ran his fingers up and down her bare arms, sending tingles rocketing in all directions. “The key to making any relationship work, Sammy, especially one like this, is open and honest communication. When you have a question or a concern, tell us. We’re always willing to sit down and talk things over. And that doesn’t just go for telling us that you prefer the flogger over the paddle. That goes for everything. If you’re upset about something one of your friends said or did, we’re both here to listen. We’ll even offer advice if you want it.”

She leaned into his embrace, laying her head against his shoulder. “Why haven’t you stripped me naked yet?”

Laughter shook his body. “I told you I like spending time with you, Sammy. I meant it. And you haven’t shown me your website yet.”

With a single finger, she traced a path down his chest. “You don’t have to humor me, Stef. I didn’t come here to show you my art.”

When she tried to hook a finger into his shorts, his iron grip closed around her hand. “There’s time for that later, Sammy. Art first.”

She pushed herself away from him and turned to stare out the glass that made up the entire back of the house. The view was beautiful, but she saw nothing. What if he didn’t like it? Worse, what if he humored her about it?

“Come on.” The pressure of his hand on her lower back didn’t give her a choice.

Samantha frowned as images of the way her brother treated his wife flashed through her head. To an outsider, he looked like the perfect gentleman. Now that she was part of the couple in question, Sammy saw the truth in the gesture. It was a subtle, dominating move.

Stefano led her down the stairs and past the playroom. He stopped at the threshold of the room next to it.

“Why the frown?”

Stuck in her thoughts, it took Sammy a minute to focus on his question. She hadn’t been aware she was frowning. “What do you mean?”

“We will make it to the playroom, Sammy, but not until later today. I wanted us to spend some time together this morning.” He was no longer touching her, and he didn’t try to crowd her.

Sam glanced back over her shoulder at the closed door to the playroom. Thick padlocks barred everyone who didn’t have a key. She had loved every second of her time in there the night before, but she wasn’t quite ready to go back inside. That room bared her body and soul. It pared her down to her most primitive desires, wringing her until she had nothing left.

There was no way she could spend all of her time there. While it sated her on a level she didn’t yet understand, it also stripped away the complexities of who she was. When she was in there, she wasn’t an artist. She wasn’t a friend or a daughter. She was a vessel, a conduit for pleasure and pain. It was as exhausting as it was fulfilling.

However, she hadn’t been thinking about the playroom. She searched Stefano’s deep blue eyes for signs of anything that might reveal his true intent, but she found nothing. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I’ve never shown my work to anyone before. I don’t know if I want you to see it.”

He turned his face away, but not before Sammy caught the hurt that flashed in his eyes. She realized he was serious about wanting more than sex from his relationship with her.

“Okay,” he said. His voice was quiet and tight. “You don’t have to show me, Sammy. I can wait until you trust me.”

He tried to turn her around and head back the way they came, but Sammy stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I do trust you, Stef. It’s just that sometimes I think my stuff is good, and sometimes…” She ended her statement with a shrug.

When he looked down at her, she saw that his upset manifested as irritation. “If you never show anyone your work, how are you going to know what they think about it? I’m not going to blow sunshine up your ass, Sammy. If you like doing this, I would never discourage you, but I’m not going to tell you it’s professional quality when it isn’t. Lex might know a hell of a lot more about art than me, but I’m not at all ignorant on the topic.”

His honesty gave Samantha courage, but it didn’t settle the butterflies in her stomach.

“I’ll show it to you.”

He gathered her close to him, cradling her in his arms. She closed her eyes to better enjoy the way he made her feel cherished. Too soon, he kissed her forehead and led her into the room.

It was a media room. Flat screens of various sizes littered desktops. Some were mounted on the wall. Comfortable chairs were scattered around the room, situated to view different monitors. A lone sofa occupied the center of the room. It faced a screen that took up a third of the wall. The room was large. Outside of an auditorium, Sammy had never seen a screen that large.

One monitor in the far corner of the room was turned on. Samantha’s eyes were drawn to it. Though it wasn’t a small monitor, the size of the room meant she still had to move closer to see the image clearly.

“This room is perfect for watching movies,” Stefano said. The click of a cupboard opening and closing revealed that he had moved to the opposite side of the room.

The image on the screen might have been a still life, but it wasn’t. It was a camera feed. The clock in the upper right corner of the feed announced the current time,
10:42
. In full-color and high definition, the penance table was in perfect focus.

Blood drained from her face and she couldn’t look away from the now-empty scene of her punishment. “You recorded me?”

Stefano had been moving around, arranging equipment. Now he stopped. She felt the strong magnetism of his body behind her as he looked over her shoulder. It took some willpower, but she refrained from leaning into him.

“No. Did you want me to?”

Did she? The idea intrigued her. She wondered how it would affect the experience. She wondered what would happen to the recording when she and the Morozov brothers parted ways.

“What would you do with it?”

A wicked smile curved Stefano’s lips. “I think I’d like to lock you into the stockade and fuck you while you watch it on a screen in front of you.”

The stockade was a device that basically locked her into a hands-and-knees position. The thigh cuffs were far enough apart to keep her legs spread and open to him. A metal rod connected to her collar to ensure her head couldn’t move. The image he conjured sent a fresh wave of longing through her.

“Would I be watching it live?”

Stefano shook his head. “We’re not set up that way. I’d have to set up a camera in the room to record you.” His brow lifted, the dawning of a realization. “Sammy, we would never tape you without your full knowledge and consent. The room is set up to monitor. Nothing is recorded. Watch the screen.”

He pointed at the monitor and left the room. Sam heard the scrape of locks opening, and then the image of Stefano appeared next to the penance table, waving at her. Samantha looked behind the monitor. She followed the cords. None of them led to an obvious recording device.