Unwound

“I knew you’d find me.”

“I’ll always find you.” He nuzzled her ear. “I’ll always come running after you. Always.”

Her shoulders started to shake, and the real tears started.

Ronin pushed the table back and picked her up, cradling her to his chest and holding her tightly as she cried. He rubbed his lips over the crown of her head, breathing her in, offering her his strength, his heart breaking that this strong, independent woman needed it.

After the storm of tears subsided, she placed a soft kiss on his neck. “Thank you. Will you take me home? To my place?”

He shoved aside the reality that she didn’t consider his penthouse home. “Sure. Is your car here?”

“No. I walked. I needed the fresh air to try to clear my head.”

He kept an arm around her shoulder as he led her outside. Tiny flakes of snow had started to fall, and Amery hadn’t worn a coat. He unzipped his leather jacket and stopped to put it on her. After zipping it up to her chin, Ronin noticed she was crying again. “What?”

“You take good care of me. If no one else ever sees that or ever knows that but me, it’s enough. I don’t want to explain it. I don’t need to explain it or defend it because it belongs to us.”

He framed her face with his hands. “You and me? This matters. Nothing else does.”

She closed her eyes and curled in to him.

Ronin bundled her into his car and found a parking place close to her building. He unlocked her alley door with his key and followed her upstairs.

Amery immediately went into the kitchen and took a bottle of gin out of the cupboard and one glass.

Ronin raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say, Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?

She poured and slid it across the countertop. “For you.”

He opened his mouth to protest and she shook her head. “Trust me. You’ll need it.”

That bad feeling reappeared, stronger than ever. “Amery. What’s going on?”

“Let me get warmer clothes on and then we’ll talk.”

She swayed on the way to her bedroom.

Ronin didn’t touch the booze. He stopped in front of the living room window and watched it snow.

With Amery having downed six drinks, he wasn’t confident they’d be doing much talking. Sure enough, when he went to check on her, she’d put on her pajamas and slipped into bed.

He swept her hair from her face. “Baby, I know you’re tired, but we need to talk about what happened when your parents came to visit you today.”

“They brought me something.”

“What?”

“Some stuff. It’s in an envelope.”

“Where?”

“I put it under the sink in the kitchen.”

“Why?”

She frowned. “To hide it. I wanted to burn it . . . or smash it. Not even show it to you.”

It was bad enough she wanted to hide it? “Tell me what it is.”

Amery turned away from him, snuggling deeper into her pillow.

“Don’t go to sleep yet.”

“I’m tired. So f**king tired of all of this.”

“Amery. Please get up and show me—”

“I can’t watch it again.”

Watch it?

He waited for her to say more, but her breathing slowed almost immediately.

Ronin found the thick envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. James Hardwick. The postmark date had been smeared. He dumped the contents on the counter. Two DVDs, a stack of photos, and a typewritten note about . . . him.

He thumbed through the photos, his sense of dread growing. These had been sent to Amery’s parents? The poses weren’t as explicit as some he’d done. But there were a lot of different women.

He made it through the stack, more than a little rattled. Then he grabbed the gin and the DVDs before he returned to the living room to see what was on the discs.

After the first scene with Naomi, Ronin had to keep from putting his fist through the TV.

His ex had done some seriously f**ked-up shit, but this went beyond anything he could’ve imagined. Looking at the footage, he could tell she’d set up cameras not only in her bedroom, but in Ronin’s bedroom. He’d never consented to that. Never.

He seemed stuck in an out-of-body experience as he watched himself on-screen, binding Naomi. Fucking Naomi. He cringed in the scene where he’d slapped her across the face. He had to pause and curb his anger. Why hadn’t he said no to her that time? Afterward, he’d felt so ashamed. He closed his eyes, wishing he could just f**king erase that memory.

“I don’t see the big deal. You use forcible contact all the time in your role as Sensei. In your role as master, you are supposed to take into account what I, as your submissive, want. I need this.”

“Don’t call me master. We are not in the Dominant and submissive roles. Naomi, you are my rope model and my lover. You aren’t even my student, so you don’t understand the role of violence. And yet you’re demanding I use it against you during an intimate moment?”

“You use me anyway. I’m nothing more than a mannequin for you to bind and a hole to stick your c**k in when you’re done.”

She’d started to cry then. Manipulating him. Demanding to know why she had no say in their public or private play. And like a f**king idiot, he’d given in. Afterward, he drank until he’d passed out. And he stayed away from her for three weeks.