But he had to be sneaky about it: he didn’t want to show his full hand—not right away. He would first make her believe that he only wanted her as a submissive, as was his original offer to her, and only as reparation for the legal breach.
How would he find Ariel? The last time he saw her she was an innocent girl, fresh out of college. Now she had a year of life abroad under her belt, not to mention a few million in her bank account. Would she be changed? He hoped to hell not and didn’t think so. He’d never met anyone less affected by wealth than Ella: she’d still be the same sweet girl—he’d bet money on it.
He punches in the number he’d jotted down on the piece of paper in front of him.
Chapter 6
Less than an hour later, he calls. I’m glad the call comes so soon because my entire body had begun to tremble somewhat violently as soon as Stephen told me I was meeting Ian tomorrow evening. Over the past twelve months, I’d spent so many hours trying to exile the man from my heart and mind; leaving him nearly broke me in two. I had never understood real grief before I left Ian; now I definitely do—I understand it with my chest, my throat, and my stomach, in addition to my heart and soul.
How could a person fall in love in three weeks? We were together exactly eight nights with a few days strewn about here and there. It seems impossible but I so did. I loved the bastard so much. It took a Herculean effort to leave him and break off all communication. But I did it. I did it, and proved to myself that I was made of tempered steel. Maybe my name is Strong for a reason.
Warrior I may be, but I definitely bear battle scars. I left him because he whipped me… but even I had to admit the pain from losing Ian made the whip’s bite pale in comparison. Pale into utter insignificance, I should qualify. I also might have given him a chance to explain himself more fully. He’d been so sweet a lover the night he took my virginity, going slowly, deferring his own pleasure to ensure mine. The least that I could do was to allow him another chance to explain why he felt the irrepressible need to beat on women.
Here’s why I didn’t give him the opportunity: I knew whatever he said, whatever words he so eloquently flung in my direction, I’d accept as gospel and stay with him—not because I’m weak or because I’m gullible, but simply because I love him too fucking much and that love leaves me way too vulnerable to him and his dirty little proclivities. And if I already love him after knowing him for just a few weeks, what would become of me if I had to walk away from the man after a few months or even years? Total annihilation.
So, a clean break was made, the bloody wound healed— albeit covered over with lumpy scar tissue—and my life kept on trucking.
But now? Now it’s going to start all over again and the only thing left for me to do is answer the phone.
I pick it up on the fourth ring. “Ian.”
I can hear the tremor in my voice so clearly—can he?
There’s a moment of… not silence but emptiness, as if the single word, his name, needs to travel across a great divide of emotional distance.
“Hello, Ariel. Is this a convenient time for you to speak?”
Exhale. Inhale. Breathe, you idiot. “Yes, fine.”
“Good. I trust that you are well?”
I try to laugh, keep things light but it sounds more like something’s lodged in my esophagus. “As well as can be expected, considering the circumstances.”
“Yes. My attorney provided me with your number, informing me that you and I are to meet to discuss the matter between the two of us. Is that plan agreeable to you?”
“It is.”
“I was given to understand that you are no longer residing in Portland?”
“Correct. I’m currently in Los Angeles.”
“Ah. Would it be terribly inconvenient for you to make a trip to Oregon? I could send my corporate jet to pick you up?”
“That will work. Yes, fine. Are we still on for tomorrow evening?”
“If that’s acceptable to you, then yes.”
So polite, agreeable even, but that’s how he sucks his prey into his lair to ravage, isn’t it? “Okay. So how do I… where do I meet the plane?”
“I’ll have the pilot text you with the flight information tomorrow morning. You should plan on leaving Los Angeles no later than two o’clock. It’s about a three-hour flight, and you’ll want time to check into a hotel and get changed, I presume… Unless you’d care to stay with me?”
“No,” I say far too quickly, hearing him laugh quietly in the background. Damn him, he said that just to get my back up and I fell for it. I should have accepted—that would show him.