The Dominant (29 page)

I bit back a laugh. “I deserve that.”

“I know you do.” I heard the smile in Elaina’s voice as she talked. “I told her as much myself.”

“Thanks.”

“She wouldn’t let me give her a gown for the party. She wants to do this her way.”

That sounded like Abby. Her way. Her move. She probably wanted nothing to do with us now. She might not even show up at the
party.

No. She would go for Felicia. That was the kind of woman she was. Even though it would make her uncomfortable, she’d
go for her friend. And since she would be there, I’d talk to her. Finally.

If she listened, she listened.

If she kicked me in the balls, she kicked me in the balls.

The lights of the penthouse glowed through the windows. After giving my car to the valet, I stood and stared at the front
of the building. Abby was on the other side of those doors.

I took five steps toward the doorway and stopped. Then I turned and took four steps back to the valet.

Story of your life, West. Two steps forward, one step back. End it. End it here.

End it now.

So I turned, but stood unmoving, watching the door. It opened, and Jackson came out. He jogged down the walkway to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He grinned sheepishly. “Thought you might need a little pep talk.”

“Pep talk?”

He threw an arm around me and we started moving forward. “I know it’s my fault you’re here tonight, and I wanted to give you
some moral support.” He stopped, turned toward me, and put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re a good man, Nathaniel West,
and there’s a good woman waiting for you inside. Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I really don’t
care. What I care about is the two of you working it out, okay?”

I crushed him to my chest. “Thank you, Jackson. I owe you a lot.”

“I guess maybe we’re even.”

“I guess maybe we’re not,” I said, and I knew that even though his chest muffled my voice, he could still hear me. “I owe
you
more than I can ever repay. If you hadn’t found me that day . . .” I shivered, not wanting to think back.

He pulled back. “But I did, so no worries.”

I clapped his back. “No worries.”

We walked together through the door.

Once inside, Jackson trotted off to find Felicia. Todd met me at the entrance, pushing through a crowd of people.

“Hell, I don’t even know most of these people,” he said as he finally made it to me, straightening his jacket.

“How’s it going?” I sounded calm, but my voice cracked at the end, and I broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about moving
into the main room.

“Good,” he said. “Listen, Melanie’s here. I don’t think she’s going to do anything to embarrass you, but I wanted you to know.
I’m sure she knows who Abby is.”

Fuck. Melanie. I hadn’t thought about her being here.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m going to go straight to Abby and ask her to talk.”

That was my plan. I could do it. I would do it. Walk straight to Abby. Ask her to talk. My fingers danced over the cards in
my pocket.

I’m sorry, Abby
.

Todd smiled. “She’s right inside. Talking to Linda.”

I gave him a quick hug, straightened my shoulders, and made my way into the main banquet room.

Damn, I thought as I entered. Todd hadn’t been kidding. Who were all these people? My eyes scanned the faces before me.

Where was she?

“Nathaniel!”

“Hey, Nathaniel.”

All these people I didn’t care about and didn’t want to talk to
came up to me, slapping me on the back, wanting to chat. I shook hands but kept moving.

Find Abby. Had to find Abby.

I shook someone else’s hand.

She hadn’t left, had she? Heard I’d entered the room and left through the back door?

“Looking good, man,” someone said. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”

I might have answered him.

My eyes swept the crowd again.

There! Standing beside Linda, just like Todd had said.

She looked beautiful.

In all my dreams, she’d never looked more perfect. I could barely take her in—her upswept hair, the shimmery silver gown,
the way she worried her bottom lip. The entire room faded away and it was just me and her.

I couldn’t get to her fast enough.

And still, it took forever to cross the room.

She didn’t move away from me. She simply waited, her eyes thoughtful and searching.

“Hello, Abby,” I whispered when I stood before her.

If my use of her name surprised her, it didn’t show.

“Nathaniel.”

Okay. This was good. I said something; she answered. Progress made.

“You look well,” I said. She looked much better than well, but I didn’t want to come on too strong or too desperate. Although
I was certain she could see right through me.

“Thank you.”

There was a small room off the main hall—I remembered from looking over the facility’s layout. I needed to get her somewhere
private so we could talk.

I moved closer. “I wanted to tell—”

“There you are.”

I looked over.

Melanie?

“Melanie, this is not a good time,” I said, anxious to get back to Abby.

“You must be Abby,” Melanie said, holding out a hand for Abby to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Fucking hell. What was she going to do? Carry on a conversation?

Like, right now?

“Melanie, I—” I started.

“Nathaniel!” someone said. I looked over my shoulder. It was the man who had asked me to present at the convention in Florida.
“Just the man I’ve been waiting for. Come with me. I need to introduce you to some people.”

What? No? I wanted to stay and talk to Abby.

But Melanie stood there, a little smirk on her face, and there was no way I was talking to Abby in front of Melanie.

The party would last a few hours—I had plenty of time.

I’d find her later.

Except I didn’t.

I always found a reason not to talk to her—she was with Felicia; she was talking with Elaina; Linda was introducing her to
someone.

The pittance of courage I’d built up over the last few weeks left me. I’d had one shot and Melanie had ruined it.

I kept telling myself the party wasn’t over yet. I still had time. I just needed to gather my courage together, find her,
and ask her to talk. Simple. Very, very simple.

I’d just do it later.

I looked down at my watch—eight o’clock. I bet the party
wouldn’t even end until midnight at the earliest. I stood with a group of Linda’s colleagues, listening as they rambled on
about some new hospital something or other, but watching Abby—she was hugging Elaina.

“What do you think, Nathaniel?” one of them asked.

Why was she hugging Elaina?

“Nathaniel?”

Was she leaving? Why was she walking toward the door?

Oh, God. She was leaving.

She was leaving and I wouldn’t see her until June.

NO!

“Abby,” I called, but of course, she didn’t hear me. “Abby,” I said louder, but all the damn people were too loud.

I turned and my eyes fell on the deejay booth beside me. I pushed the man out of the way and hit the off button on the mixer.
I wasn’t even thinking as I jerked the microphone from his hands.

My eyes never left her back.

“Don’t leave me, Abby.”

She spun around.

“I let you leave once and it almost killed me. Please,” I begged. “Please don’t leave me.”

She just stood there.

Stood there and looked at me for what had to be the longest seconds of my life.

Would she leave? Would she shout at me? Would she stay? Finally, she walked to me. It had worked. She wasn’t leaving.

Of course, she didn’t look entirely pleased to be staying. Especially when she ripped the microphone out of my hands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, eyes lit with fire.

I glanced around the room.

Shit. What had I done? Everyone stared at us, like we were the star attraction in some weird freak show. Someone I didn’t
even know elbowed the person beside him and jerked his head toward me.

Well, this was embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I couldn’t let you leave. It was wrong for me to go about it like this, though.” I’d let her leave.
Again. It’d destroy me, but I’d do it. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“I’m here now,” she said. “You may as well go ahead and say what you wanted to.”

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and I shoved my hands in my pockets. Wouldn’t do to reach out and tuck the strand
behind her ear. She’d probably slap me.

This would have been so much easier if I’d been able to talk to her earlier. Then she’d looked amiable. Now she looked pissed.

I took a deep breath. “There’s a small room in the—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the deejay said. “The best man and maid of honor—Nathaniel West and Abby King!”

Jackson.

I recognized the song from my first, and only, dance with Abby. Jackson would have known that song, remembered it. Damn fool
never forgot anything.

Which meant I was supposed to dance with Abby.

“Ah, hell,” I said, wondering just how long he’d been planning this.

I’d kill him with my bare hands.

I looked over to Abby.

She was still angry.

Maybe she wouldn’t turn me down in front of all these people. Of course, if she did, I deserved it.

I held out my arm. “Will you?” I asked, almost not wanting her to answer. What if she said no?

But, miracles of miracles, she put her hand on my arm.

My stomach did a complete flip-flop.

I collected my courage, pretended it was no big deal she’d just taken me by the arm, and led her to the floor. I caught Jackson
and Felicia kissing out of the corner of my eye. Then we made it to the middle of the floor and I had eyes only for Abby.

I stood and let her make the first move.

She reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. My stomach flipped back over.

“I’m trying to decide how this could be more embarrassing and failing,” I said, because out of all the scenarios I’d imagined,
talking to Abby in the middle of a crowded dance floor had never been on my list of possibilities.

I placed my arm around her waist, and it might have been my imagination, but I thought she took a step closer to me.

“I blame you completely,” she said. “If you had just let me leave, this wouldn’t have happened.”

But then she would have left—didn’t she see that?

“I went about it all wrong,” I said again, being completely honest. “But if I had let you leave tonight, I’d never have forgiven
myself.”

“If you felt that strongly about it, then maybe you should have tried calling me sometime in the last month.”

“I wasn’t at the place I needed to be, Abby.”

“And you are now?”

“No, but I’m coming closer.”

I took a deep breath, and her scent worked its way into my soul once more. I never thought I’d have that scent around me after
she left. I knew, even if I never held her again, that I’d forever have this moment, this night, this song, to remember.

Tonight was not the time to talk. The important part had been accomplished—I’d talked to her, she’d listened and not run away.
Maybe, if I was honest with her, she’d agree to meet me later.

“It was a mistake to think I could do this tonight.” We were still in the middle of the dance floor, but no one was watching
us any longer. I stopped dancing and she didn’t drop her arms from around me. “I have no reason to hope you’ll agree and I’ll
understand if you won’t.”
Give her an out
, I heard Paul’s voice say in my head. “But will you meet me tomorrow afternoon? To talk? So I can explain?”

I braced myself for her to laugh at me.

“Okay.”

“You will?” I asked, unable to contain my surprise. “Really?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

She smiled at me. My heart raced. “Should I pick you up? Or would you feel more comfortable meeting me somewhere? Whatever
you prefer.” Her choice. Her decision. Her way.

“The coffee shop on West Broadway?”

Perfect. “Yes. One o’clock tomorrow?”

“One o’clock will be fine.”

The song ended and I had no other reason to hold her, so I led her off to the side. “Thank you, Abby. Thank you for the dance
and thank you for agreeing to meet me tomorrow.”

She surprised me by not leaving immediately, but staying longer. Felicia went over to her shortly after the dance ended and
they talked, quite animatedly, I might add, for a few minutes. Abby looked up and caught me watching her. I smiled.

Flowers. I should send her flowers.

I wondered briefly where to find an open florist. It was New York; someone had to be open.

I glanced over at Abby again. Elaina joined the group and hugged her. Probably asked why she hadn’t kicked my balls.

She needed more than flowers.

My eyes fell on the caterer discreetly checking the hors d’oeuvres.

She needed cans.

Cans because she’d been the one to show me I could be so much more than what the world thought. We could be so much more than
what the world thought.

My feet nearly flew over the floor in my rush to get to the caterer. “Excuse me,” I said, holding out my hand. “Nathaniel
West, best man and cousin of the groom. I wonder if I could bother you for a small favor . . .”

Once the box of label-less cans was safe in my car, I wrote a simple note:

I ducked back inside the building. Todd stood waiting.

“There you are—I thought you ran off,” he said.

I glanced over his shoulder—Abby was still inside. I could see her dancing with Jackson.

While she was in the same room, I wouldn’t leave.

“Todd, can I ask you a favor?” Last time we talked, he’d told me he owed me for what he felt was his role in my breakdown.
I argued with him, but if he really wanted to help . . .

“Sure. Anything.”

“I have a box in my car—can you drive it to Abby’s apartment and put it outside her door?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nathaniel?”

Damn it. He probably thought it was some stalker thing. “No,” I said. “It’s not like that. I want to send her a little thank-you
for agreeing to meet with me tomorrow.”

“She agreed to talk with you?” His eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful.”

“I hope I don’t screw it up.”

“Do you know what you’re going to tell her?”

I brought the cards out of my pocket. “Wrote it all down.”

“Sounds great. Looks like you’ve got everything covered. Just promise me one thing.”

“Sure, what?”

He pointed to the cards. “Don’t show those to Abby.”

I got to the coffee shop an hour before we’d planned to meet and used my free time to call Paul. He helped me calm down a
bit and reminded me what today was about—Abby needed to get how she felt out in the open. I needed to hear and understand
firsthand how my actions made her feel. Then, and only then, could I try to explain myself.

After our call, I took the cards from my pocket and read them
one last time. I finished and blew out a deep breath. I hoped she would listen. I hoped there was still a chance of us being
. . . something, at the end of the day.

I saw her approach the coffee shop. She wore a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater; her hair was pulled back into a sloppy
bun with a few loose tendrils. In other words, she looked gorgeous—as usual.

I still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to meet me and sat stunned as she approached the table.

Manners, West.

I hopped up and pulled out her chair for her. “Abby. Thank you for meeting me. Can I get you something to drink?”

She sat down. “You’re welcome. And, no, I don’t want anything to drink.”

Of course not. She’d agreed to meet me in public not because she wanted to have coffee or eat with me, but because she thought
it would be safer somehow.

I had asked her to come and I would start. Todd had told me not to bring out the cards, so instead, I took a napkin—anything
to keep my hands busy. “I don’t know where to start, really. I ran this through in my head a hundred times. I even wrote it
down so I wouldn’t forget anything. But now . . . I’m at a complete loss.”

I had to get this right. This was my one shot.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she offered.

I dropped the napkin. I had lived through my pain. Had started the process of facing my demons. But now . . . now I had to
face her pain. To fully understand what my behavior had cost her.

“First of all,” I said, for this was the most important, “I need to apologize for taking advantage of you.”

She cocked a delicate eyebrow. Was it possible she didn’t know?

“I knew you had never been in a relationship like ours before and I took advantage of you.” There was no other way to explain
it. I wouldn’t even try. “The safe word, for example. I told you the truth when I said I’d never had a sub use her safe word
before, but beyond that, I didn’t want you to leave. I thought if I made the safe word a relationship ender, you wouldn’t
leave me. Of course, that backfired on me, didn’t it?”

“It was your fault.”

Yes. It was. It was all my fault—every word a lie, every action a deception, every denial a sham that served no purpose but
to drive her away.

“Yes, it was,” I said. “You gave me your trust. Your submission.” But there was something even more important—the part that
cost her the most. “Your love. And in return, I took your gifts and threw them back in your face.”

She didn’t acknowledge what I had said or agree with me. Her eyes caught hold of mine and I saw the pain she’d been living
with.

“I handled everything you gave me physically,” she said. “I would have handled
anything
you gave me physically, but emotionally, you broke me.”

I broke her.

With my actions. With my words. With my betrayal.

The sharpness of her pain struck me, and it was worse, so much worse, than my own.

“I know,” I whispered.

“Do you know how much that hurt? How it felt when you pretended that night meant
nothing
?”

I knew—it was so much more than nothing. I
knew
. And I’d lied to her.

She hit the table, shocking me. “It was the most amazing night of my life and you sat at that table and told me it was a
scene
. I’d have been better off if you’d plunged a knife in my heart.”

Yes, because physical pain was bearable. Emotional pain hurt so much worse. I should have known that—I’d lived with it my
entire life.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I wondered if she could even hear me. “So very sorry.”

“I want to know why,” she demanded. “Why did you do it? Why couldn’t you just say, ‘I need time to work this out,’ or, ‘We’re
moving too fast’? Anything would have been better than what you did.”

Again, she spoke the truth. But she didn’t know. She still didn’t know the entire truth.

“I was afraid,” I said. “Once you found out . . .”

“Once I found out what?”

I had to tell her. I had no other choice.

“Our relationship was a house of cards I’d built,” I said. “I should have known it wouldn’t take much to bring it down.”

I watched her uneasily. Would she leave after I admitted what came next?

“It was a Wednesday,” I said. “Almost eight years ago. I was—”

“What does eight years ago have to do with anything?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” I said. “I was meeting Todd for lunch on campus. He wanted to meet at the library.” I wondered if
she even remembered that day. Probably not. “I saw a woman running up the stairs. She tripped and fell, looked around to see
if anyone was watching. I went to help, but you made it to her first.”

“Me?”

Okay, she didn’t remember. I suppose I never really expected her to. Who would remember a stumble from almost eight years
ago?

“Yes, it was you. You knew her, and you both laughed as you picked up her books. There were several people nearby, but you
were the only one who helped.” I picked the napkin back up. “I made sure you didn’t see me and I followed you into the library.
You did a group reading of
Hamlet
. You read Ophelia.”

Her jaw dropped open.

“I stayed and watched,” I said. “I wanted more than anything to be your Hamlet.”

The boy reading Hamlet was no match for her. No one deserved to be Hamlet to her Ophelia.

I looked up—she still watched me in amazement.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” I asked.

“Go on.”

“I was late meeting Todd. He was upset.” An understatement.
Do you know how crazy my schedule is, Nathaniel?
he’d asked.
I gave up meeting Elaina to have lunch with you
. “Then I told him I’d met someone. It was only a little lie.”

There is no such thing as a little lie. All lies are wrong.

“Why didn’t you come up to me?” she asked. “Introduce yourself? Like a normal person would?”

Like a normal person? Was she serious?

“I was already living the lifestyle of a dom, Abby, and I thought you were a young, impressionable coed. In my mind, there
was no way we would have worked. I had no idea of your submissive inclinations until your application crossed my desk.” I
wondered briefly if I’d have done anything differently if I’d known. No, I decided, not since I’d been in a committed relationship.
“Even if I had known, I had a collared submissive at the time, and I am always monogamous once I collar a submissive.”