Page 76 of Betrayed

“Easy,” he scoffed out loud as he got out of his borrowed, nondescript, stakeout sedan and headed for the house to search. He’d already tried easy, but it was an abject failure. In fact, in the past forty-eight hours since she’d learned the whole truth, easy had made Mari spiral more out of control.

He was obviously going about this the wrong way. She’d taken blow after blow of hurt and betrayal and had barely shed a tear. She’d gotten angry, yes, and sarcastic. Now was bordering on belligerent, but this wasn’t the Marilee he knew before all of this came to light.

She was a masochist in need of an outlet for her pent-up emotions and he was just the right dom to tap into that hurt and help her let go.

* * *

STANDING JUST INSIDEof the door, Mari’s gaze swept the bursting-at-the-seams Wednesday night crowd. She’d heard that Elena’s band drew in practically all the membership and had avoided coming on the nights she played. As she looked around for a familiar face, not a simple task in the shoulder-to-shoulder mass of semi-dressed, leather-clad humanity, she eventually spied Lexie waving from a table down front next to the stage. Several of the other subs seated with her were also smiling and motioning her over.

On impulse, she’d called her new friend. She was glad Jonas hadn’t answered. He would have ratted her out to Arturo as soon as they found out she’d left town. They had cameras and trackers and “eyes on her 24/7,” so it was foolish of her to think she could try. But here she was, in San Antonio, in desperate need of a night away from her drama. She also had to confide in someone who could help her sort through her feelings for her maddening dom.

Wait. No. He wasn’thers, despite his ongoing insistence.

But if that wasn’t true, why was her heart and stomach twisted into knots at the thought of never being with him again? Worse, not even on the same continent if he went back to London.

This is how it had been for her these past forty-eight torturous hours. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of emotion, her heart torn between wanting him and pushing him away, vacillating between distrust and believing his story, and his desire to protect, and the feelings of love he had professed under the stars with the waves lapping at their feet only days before. She wanted to believe—in her very soul, she needed to—but her track record as a judge of character was nonexistent.

And Arturo wasn’t helping her decide. He’d been charming as usual, and sweet, not to mention solicitous and considerate of her feelings. But the flirty, sexy, seducer of women who could smile and melt the panties off a nun was gone. In his place, he’d left a big brother, or what she imagined one would be like if she had one. He hadn’t made a move on her since their big confrontation and truce Monday morning, outside of the role they were playing to keep Adri from being suspicious. When they were alone, he’d been polite, but he’d kept his hands to himself.

That’s what you wanted, you idiot!

But it wasn’t, not really. That was simply what she told herself to soothe her bruised pride. She still wanted him and needed him to prove that his desire for her transcended the mission; that when it was finally over, he couldn’t imagine life without her.

She tested, sassed, and bratted it up, sending not-so-thinly veiled insults his way, hoping to knock him off-kilter or pushing him past his limits so he would take back control.

None of it was working. Until tonight, when he’d had enough and bent her over the back of the couch. She’d silently rejoiced, thinking she’d broken through. But three measly swats were all he gave her, before he wagged his finger in her face, demanding she behave. Then, to her shock, he’d walked to the door.

Convinced she’d been right, that he didn’t really want her, she was just a means to an end; she bit her lip and dug her nails into her palms, using the pain to keep from melting into a sobbing, pathetic, heartbroken puddle on the floor until after he’d left.

But when he paused at the table by the door and shoved his wallet into his back pocket and his key fob into the front, she’d seen the long, hard proof of his desire in the front of his suddenly too-snug trousers.

His jaw was tight with tension as he muttered, “I have a few leads to follow up on tonight. One of Rossi’s men is covering while I’m gone.”

With a bang, he slammed out of the suite, and, once again, she was engulfed in a cloud of confusion and doubt.

That’s when she decided if she didn’t talk to someone, she’d explode. Lexie, who had been through a tumultuous courtship with Jonas, was the first one she thought of. She’d understand.

After a quick call and a necessary wardrobe change, she was out the door, daring to defy her—

What was Arturo, exactly? Not her boss, nor her boyfriend, not really, and when she’d cried red, no longer her dom.

Whatever the case, here she stood, at her wit’s end.

Lexie spotted her first and waved her over. She had promised to bring reinforcements, and as Mari approached, the three other women at the table turned and watched. Introductions were necessary. Being around the club for a year, even for brief trips, she knew who most of the owners’ subs were and had heard the stories about the rocky starts to their romances.

Next to Lexie was Angie Hixson, who had been on and off with Master T three times before he got his head out of his ass, so the gossip mill said. Across from them was Mara O’Brien, married to Master Sean. They were on the verge of divorce. Lexie had disclosed that the responsibility for their drama belonged to some really vile men who were pulling her strings, but that was behind them, too. Also at the table was Megan Rossi. Her situation with Tony, the CEO of Rossi Security, was the most similar to her own. He had lied to her, too, pushing her away and calling it quits, breaking her heart in the process, in the end doing it all to protect her.

As she neared their table and saw their sympathetic smiles, she realized these women knew better than anyone what she was going through. This is what she had missed while married to Derek, friends she could share with and if nothing else, would pour her a stiff drink and listen. Before she embarrassed herself by crying, she battled back the tears and drew in her telltale quivering lip.

She wasn’t fooling anyone though. Lexie pulled out the chair next to hers and said, “You better sit before your knees give out.”

Megan, the tiny, blue-eyed blonde who was now married to her dom, exclaimed, “Oh, Lordy! I recognize that deer-in-headlights look. We’ve gotta get this girl a tequila shooter, stat.” She stood to flag down their waitress.

“No tequila,” Mari corrected her. “I need vodka. I’ll take an Arctic Circle, hold the ginger ale and keep ’em coming.”

Lexie leaned over and asked Angie, “Doesn’t that make it a gimlet?”

“Damn straight,” the pretty brunette replied with a huge grin. “I’m gonna like this girl.”

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