KING (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (16 page)

“Tell me about Regina,” Dalton counters, grinning, challenging. He’s reading me. Somehow he’s reading me through my carefully built façade.

“I’ve come to the realization that I have an incestuous mommy problem,” I say in shame, burning bright in embarrassment. My skin feels like it caught flame.

“You just figured that out.” Dalton laughs so hard he almost falls off my lap. He brushes under his eyes with a fingertip, heartily laughing. “We all knew that.”

“Asshole,” I growl.

“Have I given you any other impression to the contrary?” Dalton teases. “You like this asshole.”

“I do… I really do.” I lean forward to kiss him and he arches back out of my range.

“Uh-uh… no… interrogating me, remember? I know you want to get to know me. I can feel it. But I’m not a moron. Will you explain when you can?”

“Sorry,” is all I can say. I look away from him in shame. “I didn’t want you to figure it out. I will tell you a
ll about it when I can. Right now the fewer people who know, the safer it is. The knowledge could get you hurt.”

“Okay,” he accepts. Dalton’s eyes track across my face, trying to read me. But I know I’m hard to read. The only other person besides me who can feel one thing and project another is Niel. We used to pra
ctice. It’s why it sucks that Niel’s surpassed me… and that I have to deal with the fallout.

“Ask what you really want to know. I’ll tell
you all I can,” Dalton conceded, shifting his weight in my lap. Dalton sits up straighter, no longer touching me. His annoyance is written across his face. I’m driving him mad. First he thinks I’ve come for a booty call, and then I give him hope that I want us to be a real couple, and now I’m interrogating him. I feel bad, but it’s necessary.

“How long did you know Bianca
before you married her? Who arranged it?” I rapidly fire both questions.

“I met her as I
was signing our marriage license. It was not a good night,” he shivers with remembered fear. “Her family was always in our lives. Stanton Green was always on the phone or Tony was talking about him. I spent half my life in that office. As far as I can tell, I’d say Pierre set up the marriage. My father couldn’t get rid of that parasite,” Dalton hisses.

“Did your mom spend time with that family?”
I find Dalton’s hand and tangle our fingers together, thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

“Before… I don’t think so.
” Dalton shakes his head, eyes narrowing in deep contemplation. “My wedding night was the last day of my old life. I was taken into FBI protection as soon as I disposed of Pierre and Jon. I assumed Bianca would come back here to be with her father. I don’t know why she stayed behind with Olivia. It didn’t make sense to me at the time or even now. Bianca had never met Olivia before that night, and she was only in Vegas for a few hours before our marriage began in violence. Bianca should have gone back with Stanton, but she didn’t.”

My mind spins, trying to rationalize all the angles. My silence confuses Dalton. He stares at me while I try to think.
“What’s going on with Bianca? Daniel, I can see your mind roiling.” His voice cracks in fear for Bianca. She is someone he will always care about, someone he feels the need to protect.

“It could be nothing, it could be everything,” I muse. “Where is the rest of your group? I know your mom is at FKK.”

“Devlin and Sebastian are at Edge. That new guy, Levi, they’re his detail. Devlin’s not giving him an easy time. The dumbass tried to kill me for Christ’s sake,” he growls, and this time I shudder in remembrance- sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to wake from a healing sleep. Dalton wasn’t as physically hurt as he was mentally. He’s afraid of being tied down, and they’d tied him to a rack and beat him. Levi was leading the fracas.

Dexter and Regina trust Levi after their torture session, but I remember what Diane said… Olivia wasn’t the one who put the hit on her son. I need to find out if she was the one causing Restraint’s riots. Doubtful it was her idea, but I need to know if that was her mission.

“Is Bianca back with her family?” I prompt.

“Yeah, she’s safe with them,” lips lifting on a relieved smile.
“After we divorced she went back.”

“Where do they live?”

“Here,” he quickly responds.

“Here?” I growl in confusion.

“Yeah, here,” Dalton affirms, regarding me with wariness. “This is Green territory. Always has been. They held the northeast coast, we had Vegas. Stanton runs his kingdom from a high-rise two blocks west of Edge.”

“Jesus,” I hiss. They aren’t in our backyard. We’re in theirs. If I ask, I bet Stanton was a Hillbrook Alumni with Grandfather or Diane. Grandfather is a decade older than
Diane and Olivia. I have no idea how old Stanton Green is.

“Your mom lost Kink right around the time you divorced Bianca, right?” I try to mask my dread, but some leaches through.

“Immediately,” Dalton spits out. “It’s why she went off the deep-end. How could you forget, you were there, remember?” He quizzically stares at me, trying to read why I’d forget something that important. I hadn’t. I just needed him to say it aloud so I could work through this tangled mess.

“What did you do with your inheritance?”
I shield my eyes from him with my lashes. I may be able to school my face, but my eyes are twitching about as I calculate.

“Now you’re
freakin’ my ass out, Daniel,” Dalton bites out, jaw clenching, creating a tick in his shallow cheek.

“It’s important, okay,” I pl
ead. “I’ll explain when I can. You have to give me some time to figure this shit out. But I need you to answer the question,” I demand.

“Fine,” Dalton
spits out and tries to get off my lap. “I don’t fucking like this.”

“Stay,” I issue the command, holding his narrow waist in my palms. “I need to see your face to read you.”

“And I can’t read you at all, Daniel.” Dalton pronounces my name
motherfucking-cocksucking-bastard.
“I kept my Fontaine inheritance. When things calm down, I want to share it with Olivia and Spyder. I split the Marconi holdings with my brother, Bruno, and then I made him buy out my half. I keep all that money in a trust, waiting until I know what I want to do with my life. I gave Bianca everything that was attached to the Green’s holdings in our divorce settlement.”

“Thank you.”
I shift my hands around to his back. I try to relax him with my touch, but he’s having none of that. Dalton flexes out of my hold and sneers at me.

“Good?” he snidely says. “Or do you want proof?
Bank statements? Filed documents? I wouldn’t trust me with those since I can forge them in my sleep.”

“One more…
” I say, ignoring his pissed off outburst. “Who was more profitable, the Greens, the Marconies, or the Fontaines?” I quickly ask because Dalton’s anger is mounting. I need my answers before he kicks my ass.

“Fuck you!” Dalton
hisses in my face, but he answers anyway. “We came from Europe. Our money has passed down the generations, and Pierre had his hands in everyone’s cookie jars. Put it this way, Pierre had twice as much money as Stanton and Stanton had significantly more than Tony. So yeah… The Fontaines were three… maybe four… times more powerful than Anthony Marconi.”

“Christ,” I hiss and fall lax to the sofa back. I’d bet my life that
Stanton Green was flanked by Tony and Pierre, and they were eating each other alive. Remembering what Dalton told me in the past, I bet Jon was their enforcer. The realization simultaneously drains and energizes me. Drained because they were all pawns- Pierre, Tony, and Jon- all have an X over their names- taken from the game by death. Energized because if I’m right, we need to figure out who the hell Jon was to find who took his place. We can go to Bianca and see if she’s in play or if it’s her daddy. 

Dalton tears out of my grip and stands up. He glares at me, chest rising as he breathes through the anger. “G
O!” he shouts, pointing at the front of the Brownstone.

“Hey,” I softly murmur, trying to calm him down. I walk towards him with my hands out, like I’m approaching a scared animal or a jumper on a ledge.

“Don’t pull that manipulative bullshit. The second your voice turns on the charm, alarms go off in my mind. I’m not sure I can trust your conniving ass!”

“Dalton,” I bark out in the voice I use when I’m Master Daniel. His disrespect turns on my own set of alarms, the ones that will make him submit. “Heel,” I command in a deadly-calm voice
as Dalton backs out of the room. Reasoning with him wasn’t working, so I’ll try dominance. I’m not losing Dalton over this. Especially since I’m scared shitless over what I just figured out.

“Nice try.
But I’m not in the mood for my leash to be yanked, thank you very much,” he sneers. “I’m sick of your shit. Go home to mommy. Regina loves it when you manipulate her,” he snarls.

“That… was
… way over the line.” I walk towards him, and he retreats, step for step. “I’m trying to protect you, and you’re acting like a little bitch. I promise I’ll explain. You need to cut me some slack here, Dalton. I’m trying, really trying.”

“You only did thi
s
get to know me
bullshit,” Dalton angrily twists the words and sneers. “So I’d spill my secrets. How do I know? I used to do the same shit for my parents. They’d pimp me out and make me use my body, just like you’re using your mouth… Guess what, Whitt? I have no more secrets to tell. Thanks a fucking lot.”

Dalton
gives me one of his trademark punches to the chest. Long ago, Dalton figured out that he couldn’t push me away. I don’t budge, and his fists are like kisses to my chest. Win-win.

“None of that was bullshit,” I impatiently growl, his disrespect ramping up my arousal.
“I promise. This aside, I really did tell Regina I’d get a divorce. I did that for all of us: for you… for her… for me. I’m talking to Ezra to figure out how to do this.” I gesture between him and me.

I keep backing Dalton
up until his back hits the wall. I get into his personal space without touching him. I stare down into his furious eyes and smile, and Dalton breathlessly looks up at me.

“You owe me an apology, Dalton,” I practically sing.
“Tonight is Restraint’s Grand Reopening and I’ll collect it there.”

I leave Dalton
leaning against the wall, breathing erratically. When I reach the front door, I say over my shoulder, “Get in the car.” I don’t look back to see if he follows. Mood doesn’t mean jack-shit when you own someone. I yank Dalton’s metaphorical leash and he gets into the car.

~Chapter Thirteen~

French Kissed Kink is lit up in pink neon- resembling a whorehouse. The tacky sign should just read
The
Pink Pussy Cat
or
Girls! Girls! Girls!

There is a huge difference between Restraint and Olivia’s eye-sore. FKK is a burlesque club
that caters to the elite. Inside you’ll find an oblong stage with small tables surrounding it. A full-service club- and I do mean
full
service- offers anything you could imagine. The back of the club is invitation only, meaning the password isn’t
open sesame
. You need a green bill with Grover Cleveland’s image just to get through the door. Once you get back there, anything is possible as long as you have enough green.

It’s lit up like a whorehouse because it is one. Alright, I won’t lie. I’m intrigued and pissed at the same time. It would be interesting to go in there and look around instead of sending in a spy and having them report back to me.

Gunner came back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed- ah hell, he was as hard as baseball bat, his dick leaving a huge appetizing bulge in the front of his jeans. Lipstick marks covered his cheeks, neck, and a partial kiss on his lips. The unassuming ex-marine that exudes power was a hit with the dancers. Gunner asked for an advance and wanted to take all of his breaks for the night in one lump of time. He took his cash and disappeared back inside enemy territory.

I
came out here to take a break as soon as the party calmed down and we allowed patrons to enter the club. After the excitement of the past few months, I’m worn the fuck out: The riots. Dalton’s attack. More riots and more riots. That damned book, Masters of Restraint. Restraint taken over by the BDSM Lifestyle Authority. More riots. That last horrific riot that closed Restraint’s doors. The forced training. Coming out of the closet and Olivia’s breakdown. The paparazzi that had everyone fleeing from their homes. Rats, moles, and the elders. My twenty-fourth birthday and our storming of Misery Castle. Reality and its swift kick to the nuts.

I have three options: run away and hide, kill myself, or meet it head-on. Since my name isn’t Grant Whittenhower, I’m taking the exhausting option number three.

Dalton finds me leaning against the side of our building, glaring at his mother’s club. I was imagining it with a sign that glowed
Boys! Boys! Boys!
My mind twirled the idea of creating a club on the other side of Restraint. We could call this section of town the red-light district.