“Right,” Kade said, sarcasm entering his tone. “How could I possibly understand? I never once considered that maybe I get off on hurting the woman I love because I had a stepfather who beat my mother and treated us like shit. I never had one second of angst over the thought that maybe I was just like that son of a bitch and putting nice, pretty wrapping paper on it.”
Gibson stilled and then turned around. “What?”
Kade’s expression was stoic but his eyes fierce. “And after what happened to me in high school, you don’t think I thought about how that messed with me, too? What if that sick fuck had something to do with who I am? That disgusts me even more than daddy dearest.” Kade raked a rough hand through his hair. “I’ve done rape play with Tess. I’m only telling you that because she’d trust you to hear it. But what do you think that did to me the first time I had that inclination?”
Gibson blinked, too stunned to speak. He’d always seen his older brother as this force. The guy had been bullied and quiet in high school, but once he’d left home, he’d become this ultimate bastion of confidence. Gib looked up to him—even though he’d never admit it to his face except under duress or a headlock. He never imagined that Kade had struggled with his dominance. If anything, that had seemed to save the guy, had turned him into who he was always supposed to be.
Kade blew out a breath. “I get that admitting you’re submissive is different. But it’s not that different. You think you’re afraid of how others are going to see you. But I bet if you really think about it, that’s not really what you’re worried about. That’s just the PR guy in you putting a veneer on the real shit. The real shit is what you’re going to think of yourself. Like, how am I going to look in the mirror afterward and own the man who’s in that reflection?
“For me, I have to own that I’m a sadist. That I love Tess with everything I have but that I get off on being rough with her. The key is finding someone who fits those things about you. Tessa likes what I have to offer her. We don’t judge because we’re two jagged pieces that smooth out when we’re together. It fits. It’s right. And if you have that with Sam, you’re never going to forgive yourself for walking away from it.”
Gibson stared at the floor, his teeth pressing hard against each other. The words hit him like bullets, tearing holes into him. Fits. Right. Sam.
Kade stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “Right now you can look in the mirror and say—yeah, I’m the guy who kneels for no one. Bully for me. But what if that also means you’re the guy who had a shot at the perfect woman, the woman who he could be completely and utterly himself with, and then fucked it up over fear and pride?”
Gibson groaned.
Kade gave his shoulder one final squeeze. “Don’t fuck this one up, bro. You deserve some happiness. Let yourself have it for a change.”
With that, Kade released him and strolled out the conference room, leaving Gibson alone with the oncoming storm and his thunderous thoughts.
Gibson turned to the reflection in the window again, staring himself down. Who was the man staring back?
Did he really know?
Did he want to?
Chapter 12
Sam was making a Tom Collins and chatting up a girl who’d been waiting on her date when the thick envelope was dropped in front of her, her name neatly printed on it in black ink. She turned toward Angie, who’d dropped it off on her way to fill an order. “Hey, what’s this?”
Angie grabbed two empty martini glasses and flipped them onto the bar. “Herb said someone dropped it off for you at the door. Didn’t have time to bring it in.”
Sam frowned and slid the Tom Collins to the guy who’d ordered it. He tossed money onto the counter without a word and headed back to his friends. Sam took care of the cash and then picked up the envelope, flipped it over.
“Maybe it’s a secret admirer,” the girl Sam had been talking to offered.
Sam smirked. “Probably an overdue bill. But will you excuse me for a second?”
The girl waved her off. “Go ahead. You don’t have to keep me company just because my date is punctuality challenged.”
Sam made sure the girl was all set with a refill and then headed to the small office where she could get a little quiet. She tore the seal on the envelope and pulled out the folded sheets inside. The first page looked to be a printed-out weekly calendar. On it were appointments and addresses. Meeting with advertising rep at the Dallas Morning News. Lunch at Meddlesome Moth. Gym. Conference call.
“What in the hell?” she murmured, unable to make sense of it.
She flipped to the next page, and her eyes scanned the top lines. Her lips parted. She read the title again.
Proposed Contract between Mistress Samantha and submissive gibson
Her butt hit the desk, her knees deciding they weren’t going to work anymore. Her gaze jumped all over the page, her thoughts moving too fast for her brain to catch up and focus. She had to take a deep breath to bring herself to the start and read it through.
Scene: Sub has agreed to engage in a scene involving planned nonconsent. Because of the risks with this type of play, the following parameters have been arranged with the submissive by Master Grant Waters:
The safe word red will be honored during all parts of the scene except where noted below.
Master Grant will be present during the scene either in person or via video and will act as dungeon monitor to step in if needed.
Mistress will choose the duration, methods, content, and audience for the scene.