Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (81 page)

Bright blue eyes capture me in their web and connect us irrevocably. We silently communicate the vow we took on our wedding morning as we finally make our marriage official.

“Regina, this is Judge Rathbone,” Whitt introduces me to the man that Marcus works with- the man who will marry us.

“Nice to meet you, your Honor,” I hold my hand out to shake because he’s a gentleman and they never shake a lady’s hand without her offering first- Hillbrook etiquette 101.

“This is interesting,” he chuckles.

The three of us are standing in the middle of Restraint’s dungeon at six am on a Sunday morning. The only light is the bare bulb that I stood beneath for my initiation. I thought it an appropriate setting for our union.

“We will do our own vows,” Whitt says bashfully.

“I’ll stand over there,” he points to the human-sized birdcage. “You speak your minds and I will pronounce it when you’re finished.” He walks away chuckling.

Whitt takes my hand and clenches it tightly. His smile is nervous, but his eyes are shiny with happiness.
I weakly smile back. I know I’m doing the right thing. I can feel it deep in my soul and the sensation calms me.

“I guess I’ll go first,” I whisper and it sounds loud in the silent room. “I vow to be your partner and to put our family first above all others. I will hold no secrets from you. I trust you implicitly.
My God, I’ve missed you,” my voice breaks and my eyes fill with tears. “We will be each other’s salvation. I love you, Sunshine,” my voice rings with adoration.

We squeeze each other’s ha
nd and share a relieved smile.

“I know that this isn’t the life you saw for yourself. I know that you never wanted a marriage built on business. We may not be the loves of our lives, but that doesn’t always work out for the best. We share love, family, responsibility, and mutual survival. That bond will never sever. I’ve missed you, too and I love you so much. I’m proud to stand by your side as the head of the Whittenhowers. You are our Queen,” his voice breaks and he softly cups my cheek. I burst into tears because I can’t handle the emotions that bombard me.

We lean forward and share the most precious of kisses- our first kiss as husband and wife.

“I love you, Mrs. Whittenhower,” Whitt professes and I know he was sharing the memory with me as we make love.

“I love you too, Mr. Whittenhower.” My voice breaks on a sob as those same emotions bombard my heart- fear- unadulterated fear. What if I fail him? What if I fail us all?

“I trust in you, Queen. I always have,” Whitt answers me and I realize I spoke aloud.

I wrap myself around his back and hips, and fall into the sensation of him moving smoothly in and out of my body. We rock so slowly that to the naked-eye it would look like we weren’t moving, but the sensation is incredible. The intimacy is staggering. The bond is breathtaking.

I moan deeply- mournfully, as I succumb to the pleasure. He’s quiet in his release as he spills deep inside of me. It’s no less potent because of our quietness. The intensity is staggering as we writhe in our embrace.

“Oh my God,” he says breathlessly. “I’m going to go fucking nuts at Restraint,” he laughs.

“No becoming a whore, Whitt,” I taunt him.

“Thank you for the best birthday present ever,” he says reverently and rains kisses on my face, neck, and lips in thanks.

“That wasn’t my present to you,” I whisper s
eriously.

“What?” He says in confusion. His eyes track across my face trying to read me.

“I made a vow and I intend to keep it. I saved this for tonight. I hope you won’t be angry with me,” my voice breaks because I don’t know how I’m going to say the words.

I firmly press my lips to his ear so that no one can hear the words, let alone read my lips. I inhale a deep breath for courage and slowly release it.

“Grant is Jamie… Your father is still alive,” I breathe.

Chapter Seventeen

It’s been months since I walked into the Brownstone. I don’t even have a key any longer. It’s weird coming here now that I know
it’s Roman and Jamie’s home. Hell, Roman spends more time at my house than here.

The place is quiet since everyone saw me sign that I’d be coming here this afternoon. It doesn’t even feel like anyone is home. I wander around the first floor, entering all of the training rooms. It’s nostalgic and depressive. I loved my time here. It was a time when I wasn’t lonely. I smile as I remember Cort teasing Marcus relentlessly and the Master would just grin and bear it. All those times Jamie lurked in the shadows refusing to join us, but was close enough to be a part of our conversations. It’s bittersweet and hurts my heart. It’s a time gone by, never to be recaptured and experienced.

I wander in every room reliving my experiences. The kitchen reminds me of the times Cort would try to cook us food- unsuccessfully- and Marc would have to fix it to make it edible. I smile at the memories.

I slowly walk up the steps for the second time in my life. I’ve only been up here one time when Jamie wanted to feed my skin-hunger. It was that night that Marcus and Jamie pulled away from me. Yesterday was the first time since then that Marcus has touched me. It doesn’t feel good to know that it was because he was so taken with my ploy to reconnect the guys.

My last adventure to the second floor was in the dark. In the bright light of day I can see that this is Jamie’s haven. A small library is to the right of the stairs and I instinctively know that this is where James Atwater writes the stories that happen downstairs. His bedroom is just as sparse as it was at Whittenhower Estates. I recognize a few items that used to be in his suite and I know that Marcus somehow got them for him. Maybe he tricked Whitt into delivering them as he did me with the photo album of Ella. I’d thought it a weird request, but now I know Marc wanted Jamie to have it.

A small grouping of photos catches my eye. Several were taken at Whittenhower Estates during the five years I lived there. Holiday photos of Whitt and Niel and a few with me covering my face with the back of my hand. I never wanted my ugly mug memorialized. I don’t know the last time my photo was taken when it wasn’t for identification. The newest picture is of Ella and Niel last month at Christmas. It wasn’t Christmas morning because my son had to be with the Whittenhowers. It was the day after. No one in my house was allowed to celebrate until Whitt brought him to join us. I don’t know how Jamie got this photo, but then again, Marcus has his ways. Maybe Roman took a copy.

I leave Jamie’s private space because it isn’t something we share. Even at the Estate I’d never enter his private quarters. I’d linger between our suites and he would pick on me for not entering. It didn’t feel right. I wasn’t his wife so I didn’t belong in his room. He spent the majority of his time with me inside my rooms and the office I took over.

A heavy door at the end of the hallway catches my eye. I unlatch it and a mirror image of the hallway I was just in lies before me. This must be the other side of the Brownstone- Roman’s side. I peek into the rooms but don’t enter. His rooms are messier, move lived in.
I walk down the staircase on this side of the Brownstone since I’ve yet to locate Jamie. He knows I’m coming to visit this afternoon. The stairs lead me to Roman’s kitchen. As I walk to the front of the house I look into his rooms. One room has a gigantic television and sofas- the room that was used to watch Whitt and me last night- bastards.

The front of Roman’s side of the house is a quaint living room. Jamie stands with his back to me facing the front windows. Shoulders that I’d embraced for five years are tight from anxiety and stress. I want to beat him for leaving me and at the same time I want to hug
him fiercely and never let him go.

“Jamie,” I whisper. In the many conversations we’ve had since I found out, he’s told me that Grant is dead and he will forever be Jamie.

His shoulders clench when he hears my voice. I don’t go to him like I’ve envisioned over and over for the past ten years. Instead I sit on the sofa and wait for him to come to me. My heart pounds in my ears and my mouth dries up. I clasp my shaking hands in my lap and sit primly as I wait.

Five years I’d heard Grant’s soft voice and I will never hear it again. It was always so soothing and relaxing. Just one word from him and I felt immense comfort. It would take on a different cadence when he was playful versus morose. There was never an in between with Grant- he was usually playful and mischievous and then on an odd occasion he was so depressive that I’d fear for his safety.
The feeling he’s emoting right now is the one that makes me fear for him. I will Jamie to turn to me so that this horrid anticipation will cease.

Slowly, agonizingly slow he turns to face me. I keep my face schooled against the shock that I feel. I knew that he wouldn’t look the same, and I’ve repeatedly told myself to accept it.

Jamie looks like the Grant I knew and loved. I feared for the worst and it isn’t anything my imagination culminated.

A deep cut slices through his forehead and bisects his nose until it comes to rest in the center of his upper-lip. The chemical burns that I felt during our one time together aren’t noticeable from this distance across the room.
“You look the same to me, Jamie. I mean you look like Grant did to me.” My voice is strong and doesn’t betray the stew of emotions bubbling below the surface.

Jamie relaxes at my words and gives me that self-deprecating smile he was known for. A set of dimples bracket the ruination of his mouth. He flutters his fingers through his downy-soft, sandy hair. He sighs and looks at the floor.

“I know you’re probably waiting for me to re-kill you for abandoning me. My feelings are for me to feel, and I won’t push them onto you or anyone else. Two years I’ve known you as Jamie before I learned the truth and I can tell that the Grant I knew died that night. I want us to move forward and find an equal footing.”

Jamie slowly walks towards me and sits across from me. I’m starved for him. My eyes devour the sight of him before me. It’s a dream come true. He may not have flown into my embrace, but it’s enough for him to be in the same room with me- for him to be alive. I’ll forgive everything else because of this.

Jamie is wearing worn-in jeans and a t-shirt. I smile because it’s so foreign to me. Grant wore either business suits, trousers and a nice shirt, or pajamas. Jamie is more laidback and relaxed. He still holds his body the same way and it makes me feel fluttery in my tummy. He will forever be one of the most beautiful men on the planet. Only his son rivals his presence.

His bright blue eyes gaze at me and I sigh. The memory didn’t do them justice. I avoided Ade’s eyes because I thought them identical. Whitt’s eyes have a calculating glint. Ella’s are softened by my green eyes. Jamie’s are beguiling, captivating- it’s impossible to look away once they’ve captured your attention.

“I’ve missed looking at you,” I whisper and look at my hands.

A moment later a gravelly noise emanates from his throat. I look up bashfully because I forgot that I have to see him to hear him.

I know I’ve asked you this before. Do you hate me?

I shake my head because emotions are choking me. I can’t believe I’m sitting across from him holding a conversation. Texting didn’t make it real for me. It felt like a fantasy, as if I was living out a dream I had while sleeping. Seeing
is believing, and I believe now. I’m saddened that I’ll never hear his voice, but I’ll take whatever small part of him he will allow because anything is better than nothing.

“I meant everything I’ve said in our messages,” my voice rings of the righteousness of my statement.

I have many things to apologize for, Regina. My greatest failures are that as a father. I couldn’t be for them what they needed. I tried my best by providing Marcus for Whitt and Niel. I knew that you were strong enough to be mother and father for Ella. I’ve never doubted your ability as a mother. Knowing that Whitt grew up to be an incredible man who is taking care of his siblings as if they were his own is as amazing as heart-wrenching. My children are safe and loved, but I’m not the one offering them the solace. I’m not strong enough for it and I’ve always know that, Regina. I was petrified before I met you, but I was scared to death from the moment I laid eyes you.

“How so?”
My voice breaks because my biggest fear is about to be realized. Subconsciously I didn’t want to have this face-to-face reunion because I knew what was coming and I didn’t want to face it.

My life was never mine to live; at least not while I was Grant Whittenhower. I knew what I wanted and I knew I’d never get to live it. I hadn’t known at the time that Father forced Adelaide to bring you to the Estate so that he could commission you for me. I knew the second I laid eyes on you that I was trapped for life. I didn’t resent you and I don’t blame you for it. I know how you felt about being a vessel for the Whittenhower heir, because I was one as well. I had no value except to produce my father an acceptable heir. He got what he wanted with Niel and I was murdered for it. I love you, Regina. I always have and a part of me always will. But I was never in love with you. You weren’t who I’d have chosen to live my life beside. I’m not the man for you either. I didn’t want to see you because I feared that you’d try to recapture the past and want us to live as a family. I can’t do that. I feel sick when I look at you because all I see are the things I had to do for my father- things against my will. I won’t be that man ever again. You were stronger than me and managed to get away on your own. I had to die and reinvent myself.