Tears of Tess (45 page)

Tess,

This is for your
freedom

Fly high and
happy

Je suis à toi

Q

I clamped a hand
over my mouth, holding back a wail. Behind the note was a cheque.

Signed with an arrogant
swirl of an autograph Quincy Mercer had given me two hundred thousand euros.

I felt faint.
Two hundred thousand! Anger blazed. Two hundred. Was that all I was worth? Less
than a Bugatti or some other possession he could buy?

Shit, I wasn’t
for sale!

The money sent two
hundred spasms of hot frustration at his audacity. He really was a fucking
idiot. I didn’t want his money. I didn’t want anything from him apart from
peace. I wanted him out of my head. I wanted my senses to belong to me again. I
wanted my heart to stop weeping. So many things I wanted… and would never get.

Damn him to the
depths of hell.

My heart raced.
Everything I’d been trying to forget, to run from, grabbed me around the throat,
chocking with ruthless savagery.

“As
you wish, esclave. Every time I call you Tess, remember I can do anything I
want to you. I fucking own you.”

“Yes.”

“After
tonight, every time I say your name you’ll get wet for me. I not only own your
body but your identity, too. Do you deny it?”

I
tried to deny it. I tried so damn hard.

But
I couldn’t swallow the lie. Q still owned me. Owned my body, heart, soul, my
fucking everything.

Tears dripped
onto my hands. I knew what I had to do.

Rushing to my
bedside table, I found my sketchpad and ripped out a page. Hands shook and my stomach
tripped into knots.

Brax,

I’ll always love
you. I’ll love your kindness, your generosity, your friendship, your smile.
I’ll always love the way you made me feel so good about myself and how you kept
me safe when I felt so alone. But I know I don’t give you what you need. I know
I’m selfish with not leaning on you enough and I didn’t realize it until now.

Another needs
you more than I ever will, and I want you to be happy.

I’m letting you
go, Brax, and I wish you so much happiness and jo—

“You’re leaving.
Aren’t you?”

I dropped the
pen, sucking in a breath. Brax stood, framed in the door, jaw clenched. He strode
to the bed, trying to read my note upside down. His eyes fell to the silver bracelet
on his pillow.

I bit my lip as
he picked it up, staring, unseeing. The bracelet represented our future and I
tossed it away so flippantly.

Leaving a note
was cowardly, but face to face, I didn’t know if I had the strength.
Find
the strength. He needs to know the truth.

Dropping the
paper, I walked to his side. “Yes. I’m leaving.”

Brax looked up,
holding the bracelet tightly. “You were just going to go, Tessie?” Eyes blazed
with hurt. “What about what I want?”

I placed a hand
over his heart, looking into blue, blue eyes. “I
am
giving you what you
want. What you need. I’ll always be your friend, Brax, but we’ve outgrown each
other. I never wanted to hurt you, and by staying, I will.”

He hung his
head, pressing his forehead against mine. “That’s not true. I need you.”

I sighed softly,
“I think another needs you more.”

When he looked
with an eyebrow raised, I added, “The neighbour you’ve been spending so much
time with? I’ve seen you together, Brax. I know you have feelings for her.”

He gulped. “It’s
not like that. Honestly. She moved in while you were… um… gone, and I’ve been
helping her with some tough shit.” He dropped his voice. “Her dad and brother
were killed in a house fire. Her mum died when she was a baby, and she’s got no
one to turn to. I was only being nice.”

“What’s her
name?”

He flinched. “Bianca.”

I hated the look
in his eyes—the look where he expected me to scream and punch him. He had every
right to care for another as lonely as him. Together, they would be each
other’s everything. I wasn’t broken enough for Brax. My courage and strength
kept a rift between us all this time.

Kissing him
gently, I murmured, “Let me go. You’ll be happier, I swear it. The truth hurts
less than fibs and fakers… remember?”

He swallowed
hard, nodding once. He knew I spoke the truth. “Where will you go?” He gathered
me into a hug.

I squeezed him
back, but I couldn’t confess. “I’m not sure. But know that I’m happy and doing
what I need to do.” Kissing his check, I pulled away. “I hope you’re truly content
with whoever you end up with, Brax.”

He kissed me
gently, smiling. “You’re going back to France, aren’t you?”

I froze.

“I’ve seen how
different you are, Tess. I sleep next to you. I see how you wake up hot and
bothered and sexy as hell. Something happened over there, and it changed you. I
get it. What happened in Mexico changed both of us.”

I battled with embarrassment
and awe. Brax saw more than I gave him credit. Shame made me blush. He was
right. I had changed and I couldn’t undo it. I couldn’t change the fact he lay
next to me while I dreamed of Q whipping and fucking me. He suffered in silence
as I cried out in need.

Remorse settled
heavy. “Brax, I’m so sorry.”

He laughed
lightly. “Nothing to apologise for, Tessie. I knew we were different ever since
you pulled out your vibrator. I’m not comfortable with that sort of thing, and
I think I knew we’d go our separate ways that night. It hurt so much at the
time, but now… I might be able to breathe with the thought of only having you
as a friend.”

His acceptance
let my heart fly free; I threw myself into another hug. “Stay in touch.”

Brax hugged me
with endless comfort and kissed my cheek goodbye.

Our two year
relationship ended on a friendly note, and I wished Brax the world.

Half an hour
later, I strode from the apartment, wearing Q’s grey dress.

No belongings.

No trivial items
that meant nothing.

Just me, my passport,
and note from my master.

With a
heart-winging smile, I left my world behind.

*Kingfisher*

T
he
flight to Paris took forever.

The train to
Blios an eternity.

The moment I
arrived in the village where I ran from Franco, a rainbow of feeling settled.
Residual fear from the rape. Excitement at being so close to Q. Nerves at not
knowing how he’d react. What if he hated me completely? What if he sent me away
again?
Stop those thoughts.
One thing was for sure, Q would hear me out
before he tossed me away again. He lived in the darkness? Well, I was about to
bring hell on him if he didn’t listen.

Deciding to shed
memories of running, with recollections of returning, I strode into
Le Coq
and approached the same woman. The roosters on the walls no longer wanted to
peck my eyes out. They looked fat and content.

The women who didn’t
believe I’d been kidnapped gawked as I approached the counter. My skin pricked with
phantom panic from the rape, but I forced it away. It didn’t define me. It was
over.

Her mouth hung
open, watching with incredulous eyes.

“
Bonjour
.
I’m looking for the
Moineau
residence. Quincy Mercer’s estate.”

Her jaw dropped
further showing unhygienic teeth. “You…you came here claiming he kidnapped you.
Now you want to go back?”

I smiled bright.
“Yep. Makes sense, huh?” I didn’t elaborate, and tried not to laugh. I couldn’t
stop bubbles of tentative happiness. I was doing something just for me. It was
liberating.

She glared for
ages; I didn’t think she’d answer, but finally she called into the kitchen,
summoning a scruffy boy with hands covered in soapy bubbles. “
Emmener la, à
la résidence de Mercer.”
Take her to Mercer’s estate.

I basked in the
lyrical language of French. I missed it. I’d grown to love France and its
language. Living back in Australia with the twangy accent and heat had never
fit. Australia was bright and brash and wonderful. France was chic and refined
and smouldered with passion.

The kitchen boy
nodded, pushing a black cowlick from his eyes. I thanked the woman and followed
the boy to a white van in the back alley. The same alley where I bolted from
Franco.

I suffered a
pang of terror at the thought of getting in the car with a stranger. I wouldn’t
survive a repeat of Brute and Driver, but I steeled myself.

We didn’t say a
word as we drove. Rolling hills and patchwork countryside flurried my heart erratically.
Every mile, I was closer to Q. Every mile, I felt more and more confident. This
was where I belonged. This was home.

We turned and
drove through huge, imposing gates and the sound of gravel pinging beneath the
car made sweat pool in my lower back. Nerves skittered, my mouth dry with
worry.

Q’s pastel
mansion came into sight, along with the horse fountain splashing with tiny
rainbows in the mid-afternoon sun. Spring gave way to summer, and Q’s immaculate
gardens rioted with colour. Butterflies fluttered while birds winged. An
innocent paradise where a beast lurked. A beast that liked delicate things, but
would never kill.

The young boy smiled
as we pulled to a halt outside imposing pillars and cherub plasterwork. My
heart firmly lodged in my throat. I couldn’t move.
What am I doing?

“Nous sommes
arrivés.”
We’re here. He waved for me to exit.

I stared at the
mansion, with everything bared.
I can’t do this. Yes, you can.
But what
if… what if he refused to see me, or moved onto another slave… or…

The front door
swung open.

I ducked in the
seat, cowardice taking me hostage.

A very surprised
Suzette stepped out, peering through the van’s windows. I tentatively waved; her
mouth fell open.

The boy laughed,
reaching across to open the door. I climbed out, frantically smoothing my grey
dress, rubbing my cheeks, wishing I’d taken the time to present myself better.

A slight breeze sent
a spritz of water from the horse fountain, dewing my skin, making me shiver.

Suzette and I
didn’t move for a century.  

I doubted any
slaves returned once they were released. Then again, I was forcibly removed. I broke
tradition by being unpredictable. Our eyes locked and I transmitted everything
I felt in my gaze.
Do you see how worthy I want to be? I came back for him.
I came back for you. For this life. For everything he made me become
.

Suzette inched
forward, her black and white maid’s uniform sleek and pressed. Hazel eyes
sparkled. “Ami? What… I don’t understand.” She stepped hesitantly. I closed the
distance between us.

I resisted the
urge to bowl her over in a hug. She covered her mouth as I smiled. “
Bonjour
,
Suzette.” The sun burned through late spring haze, warming my skin. Whatever
happened, I made the right decision. Q needed someone to fight. Q needed to be
fought for.

I wanted to
fight for him. I wanted to
win
him.

The pastel tones
of the manor glowed with sun in pale greens, pinks, and decedent renaissance
features.

I never wanted
to leave.

Suzette squealed,
launching herself into my arms. “You came back? Why would you do that? I thought
you hated him, us, everything that happened. He threw you away. I thought you’d
be plotting murder, not appearing out of the blue.”