The Art of Domination (40 page)

“Stop.
I may be little but I’m wiry, damn it. I don’t care how tall those snatches are. I’ve got a good 15 or 20 pounds on them anyway.”

I laugh at her and she throws her fuck-you eyes at me.

“You do not outweigh Erika by 20 pounds. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Well, no. I don’t particularly enjoy the image lookin
g back at me. It reminds of …” her voice fades out and she blushes.

“It reminds you of what?” I ask, but I can see b
y the look on her face it’s something she doesn’t want to talk about.

“Nothing.”

She walks briskly ahead of me and I pull her back and push her towards the bed. I sit her down and kneel in front of her.

“It reminds you of your father?” I ask.

She furrows her eyebrows at me and looks towards the windows. “I see my mother when I look in the mirror. It reminds me of what she used to look like after…”

Isa s
tarts twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. She hasn’t done that in so long and I’m reminded of why she does it. She’s nervous and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. She looks like a child right now and I hug her to me.

She pushes back against me and looks
outraged.

“I don’t need your pity, Dylan.”

“What the fuck, Isa? Is that what you think I feel for you? I feel a lot of things for you; love, respect, gratitude, desire, lust, and things I can’t even put into words. But I can tell you that the one thing I have
never
felt for you is pity. What happened to you pisses me off and I wish I could make you forget all of it, but I don’t pity you. Everything that’s happened to you made you into the person you are today; the talented woman that I love and married. So don’t accuse me of pitying you,” I snap at her.

She l
ooks down at her knotted hands and remains quiet for a few moments.

“Why gratitude?” s
he finally whispers.

“Do I really need to tell you? Isn’t it obvious at this
point?”

She nods no and still won’t look at me.

“Because you’ve taught me how to love.”

She looks up at me and smiles her biggest toothiest grin.  “Are you t
rying to get into my panties?” she asks teasingly.

“Been there, done that,
” I reply nonchalantly.

“I wish you’d
get in them and do it again,” she pouts as she gets up from the bed. “I want to paint something. I have this image begging to be put on canvas. Can I paint right now?” she asks.

“
Yes, of course. Your painting clothes are in your studio in the closet off the bathroom. I’ll be in my office working on a few things while you do that. What are you going to paint?”

“
Oh, just a little something.”

“Come on, d
on’t torture me. Tell me,” I demand.

“A self portrait. After what happened with, you kno
w… I’ve never felt more alive, despite what I look like on the outside. This feeling may only be fleeting, so I want to get it down before I change my mind and the old self-deprecating Isa returns,” she says with a wave and then disappears.

She’s
beautiful; I wish she could see that. I guess we’re all our own worst enemies. I wonder what she really thinks of me; if she finds me attractive. Everyone has a negative inner voice and I know some are worse than others. Mine speaks to me frequently, especially lately. After having lied to Isa about Erika and still continuing to not tell her the truth about my parents, my inner asshole has been nagging at me.

I go into my office and walk over to the large mirror on the wall and take a good look at myself. What does Isa see in me? I’m lanky, my hair never does what I want it to do, I have a goofy smile and my eyes are the stranges
t blue. Okay, I have a big dick, so what? Why does Isa think I’ve slept with so many women? To prove to myself that I’m in control. But the main thing I see looking back at me: A man who’s killed his parents; a murderer; a fake; someone who pretends to have everything under control and pretends to be in control of himself and others. Jesus Christ. How the hell am I supposed to explain that to Isa? I never even told Erika the full story. I don’t want Isa to stop loving me.

While I stand looking at myself in the mirror like a dumbass, Sawyer walks in.

“You look beautiful, princess,” he remarks.

“Fuck off,
” I respond and walk towards my desk.

“Nice digs,” h
e says looking around. “I did pretty well, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, I would say, but since you’ve already said it yourself,
I guess there’s no need,” I tell him sarcastically.

“I’m sure you took all the credit, too.”

“I most certainly did not,” I say to Sawyer defensively. “I gave you and Raul credit where credit was due.”

“
Thanks. What does Isa think of the place?”

“She loves it as evidence
s by her extreme case of drop jaw.”

“
Nice. So are you still planning on going through with her gallery show?”

“Yes.
I already know how you feel about that, but I’m not going to continue to hide from that bitch. There will be plenty of security there and we should be fine. If anything, maybe the show will draw her out.”

“Draw her out? Fuck, Young. You’re going to use Isabel as bait?”

“Jesus Christ, Sawyer, I didn’t say that. I’m using myself as the bait. That’s what the woman wants, not Isa.”

“No, she wants to get even with you and she knows the best way to do that is through
Isa. She’s already proven that,” Sawyer answers coolly.

“The show is happening,
” I say clipped.

“Fine,” Sawyer replies, throwing his hands up
resigned.

The next few hours are spent on the phone with my lawyers, PR,
and various employees.  I make an appointment with Isa’s counselor and request that she visit us here tomorrow. Next, I call the hospital to check on Alex’s prognosis. When I hear that he’s progressing slowly, I call the police station to ensure that he’ll be dealt with once he’s recovered.

Now
to deal with Mr. Ibanez. Sawyer is working on getting together as much evidence as he can against the man and looking into the cold case file about her mother. It’s not actually a cold case because an investigation was never official opened, but I’ll make sure her death is more closely looked into. There’s so much to do and I know this will be a long drawn out process, but at least it’s not going unnoticed anymore.

I call out for a late lunch to be delivered
and venture down to the studio to see what Isa’s working on. I climb the stairs quietly and watch from a distance. I can’t see the painting, but Isa is deep in concentration. Her hair is falling in her radiant eyes and she’s chewing her bottom lip fiercely. There’s paint all over her shirt and jeans, and even a few smudges on her face.
Christ, she’s beautiful
. I really do have my own artist.
How did I get so lucky?

Isa sees me out of the corner of her eye a
nd she smiles and waves me to come over. “Come see what I’ve painted, sugar. Tell me if you like it.”

When I walk around,
I’m staggered by the image she’s painted.

“Holy fuck, Isa.”

She looks confused by my response.

“It’s unbelievable. It’s… i
t’s… you. ”

“I wish I saw
myself this way all the time,” she says miserably.

“I hope you know this is how I see you all the time. Is this for the show?”

“It doesn’t exactly go with the theme.”

“No, but that’s why it will stand out. Do you have any others that are non
-themed that I haven’t seen?”

She hesitates and starts to twist he
r ring around her finger. Then she grabs my hand and twists my wedding ring.

“You look handsome wearing this.”

“Why are you changing the subject? Are there paintings I haven’t seen?”

“Yes, b
ut… fine. I took them down. They’re over there.” She points towards the shelf where there are two covered paintings.

“Why so secretive?” I ask, walking towards them.

“Not secretive, just embarrassed.”

I uncover them and see her mother and father staring back at me.
The paintings themselves are representative of her amazing talent, but the image of her father is disturbing. The image of her mother, on the other hand, is superb and I can immediately see the resemblance to Isa.

“Those aren’t for the show,” s
he says.

“Okay
. The painting of your mother is stunning, Isa. You don’t ever have to be embarrassed about your work, most especially not with me.”

“The show is in two days. I’m nervous. What if people don’t like my
work? What if they hate it? What if…”

“Baby girl, why do you doubt
your talent? Your work won’t be for everyone, but no one can deny that you’re gifted.
No one
.”

“What if that woman shows up?”

“Don’t worry about that. You just worry about how you’re going to be fighting off all the new fans. I’ve made an appointment with your counselor. She’ll be here tomorrow.” I tell Isa and expect her to throw a fit, but she just nods
yes
and starts scanning her painting again. Well that was easy enough. 

Isa is being so
agreeable, I decide to propose my idea of taking her to the Dark Asylum.

“After your gallery show, I’d like to introduce you to the BDSM club here in Denver.”

Isa looks at me puzzled. “Why now? I mean, we’ve been together for five months and you’ve never brought it up. So why now?”

“I’ve been thinking about
it for almost a week. After everything I told you about myself and your eagerness to being a true submissive recently, I thought you should see what a real D/s relationship consists of.”

“Yo
u mean our relationship isn’t truly D/s?”

“It is
to a certain degree, but what we have is different. I think you know that.”

Her eyes scan my face, looking from my eyes to my mouth.  I’m waiting for her response, not quite knowing how to read her reaction.

“Yes, you’re right. I want to be a proper submissive for you. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, as well. I want to learn from you Dylan. I want to be the Master of my Universe, too.”

Her response floors me.
There’s that phrase again - Master of my Universe.
Is that what she thinks I am?

“Well,
we can learn together.”

I tell Isa to get cleaned up and changed. Lunch will be delivered shortly and we both need to eat. When I go downstairs to pick up the food from the main entrance, Pa
ul, one of my doormen greets me and hands me a newspaper.

“What page?” I ask him.

“Page eight. You’re old news,” he says with a smile.

“That’s only until tomorrow. I’m sure Isa’s little flub
will be pointed out for all to read.”

I take the food upstairs and Isa has our new dining room table set for two.  She’s wearing a sexy little low cut white sweater and hip hugger jeans that
reveal her navel peeking out at me when she lifts her arms. She’s in socks and she looks comfortable in our new home.
Damn it. She’s not making this easy on me.
I sit down and she serves the food out to us, rubbing up against me as she reaches across me. She smells good enough to eat. She’s gives me side glances as her skin brushes against mine.

“I know what you’re doing,” I tell her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says as she sits down next to me. She pulls her chair up close to me and gets my food ready.

“Can I feed you?” s
he asks.

“Isa…”

“Don’t talk. Just eat.”

She wraps som
e pasta around the fork, leans over and puts into my mouth.  Then she wipes my mouth with the napkin. Again, she feeds me pasta, but when I slurp the noodle in and get pasta sauce on my mouth, she licks it off of me.
Damn it
. She continues the sweet torture through half of the meal; one bite for her, one bite for me. I’m reminded of our wedding night and how I ate dinner off of her body and I feel myself get erect. 
I wouldn’t mind replaying that little scene right now
. Isa must sense my arousal because she pushes her chair back and straddles me. She reaches behind her and continues to feed me while she grinds herself into my hard-on.

“I want you, Dylan. Please don’t make me wait anymore. I’ve already agreed to meet with the counselor
tomorrow. Don’t you want me?” she whines.

I hear myself sigh loudly and
Isa climbs off of me.