Page 4 of Redemption's Inferno

With nothing else to say, Emilie got her things as quickly as she could, made arrangements to get Therese a little money, and was grateful to step out into the bright sunlight. She took a few deep breaths, and momentarily closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun take away the chill that had settled deep inside of her. She knew what she had to do and she would do it. Even if she had to go to prison, one mistake, made when she was just 19, wasn’t going to control her life anymore. She was done. She was going to London and she would face whatever was waiting for her. One way or another, she was going to be free of this and then she would take Therese’s advice to make the most of whatever time she had when she was done.

Chapter 2

Sitting at the desk in her Manhattan hotel room early the next morning, Emilie drummed her fingers restlessly on the keyboard of her laptop as she tried to figure out what to write. Yesterday and today were her days off from the club she managed, and she and Becca had arrived in New York yesterday morning on the red-eye. Becca wasn’t just her boss and the owner of Club Inferno, she was also one of Emilie’s few confidantes. Though she couldn’t tell her everything, she trusted her with a lot and was grateful for her companionship during the prison visit. Afterwards, when Becca had gone to the Westchester home she shared with her husband when they weren’t in Las Vegas, Emilie had gotten online and found a flight leaving for London this afternoon. She had no idea when she would be able to come back; if the authorities were looking for her, she might even be apprehended at the airport. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she needed to leave some kind of message for both Becca and Viggo.

Sighing, she opened the email program and started the note to Becca first.

Hey. Thanks for coming with me yesterday—you have no idea how much I appreciate it. My conversation with Therese reminded me that I have some unfinished business in Europe, and I’m leaving today. I apologize for not giving you any warning, but this is important. I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, so I’m okay with you not paying me while I’m gone and I hope you can forgive me for being vague. You’re my best friend and I hate not confiding in you, but you know I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Please don’t worry, I just have to sort through some things. I’ll call soon, I promise. Give me a little time to figure out what I’m doing—I need to be away from everyone and everything in order to do that. Thanks for being my friend. Love, Em.

She read it several times before hitting send. Then she opened another message and sighed. What to say to Viggo was harder because although they were no longer married, they were extremely close and were raising their daughter, Simone, together. He would know something was going on because there was no reason for her to disappear like this. He would undoubtedly be worried, but she couldn’t help that. She’d already sent her brother Karl a note, saying she was going to Europe for a few weeks for vacation. Since their mother was in Las Vegas right now helping with Karl’s newborn twins, instead of home in Sweden, Emilie didn’t have to worry about her expecting a visit. Her other brother, her fraternal twin Sebastian, would most likely make a fuss if he realized she’d disappeared but she was counting on no one telling him just yet. It was just Viggo that would be a problem.

Hello, love. I wanted to let you know I’m taking some time for myself. I’ll be traveling around Europe, hoping to clear my head. It’s not about us, the divorce, or you and Jamie. You know I adore both of you! It’s just time for me to come to terms with the past. Therapy hasn’t been a big help but it made me realize how far I’ve begun to spiral. I need a different kind of help, and part of that is finding closure on a few things. I can’t explain it properly, so I’m asking you to give me a month or so to try to find answers. I won’t leave you hanging with Simone, but I’m not sure when I’ll be home. Please don’t tell Karl or Mama the truth—they think I’m on vacation and it’s easier this way. I’ll stay in touch. You can send a text if you need something or if anything comes up with the baby. I won’t have cell service all the time, but I’ll make sure to check my phone once a day. Give my love to Jamie and good luck with the rest of the trial. Em.

She hit send and slowly closed the laptop. Tomorrow would be the beginning of the end of her past; she would make sure of it. Somehow, she would find peace for what she’d done and if that meant going to prison, she was okay with it. She regretted possibly being away from her daughter for a long time, but Viggo and Jamie were good, loving men who would take care of her. When it was all said and done, she couldn’t live like this anymore. Somehow, she had to be free of the guilt, the memories and the fear of discovery. It had been haunting her for eight years and she realized now almost all the bad decisions she’d made back then had been because of what she’d done, or what she feared she’d done, in London. It was time to put that behind her, even if it meant giving up her freedom.

* * *

A few days later, Emilie sat in the London townhouse of a man she’d known for nearly a decade. Sitting across from him, she thought her old friend looked tired. Warren Bern was a good man, and she trusted him implicitly, even though she hadn’t seen him in several years. In his mid-70s now, he was still handsome but something had changed since she’d seen him last. Running a sex club obviously kept him young, but the lines around his eyes had deepened, he’d lost far too much weight, and there was something almost gaunt about him. She felt a flicker of concern as he paused to cough several times during their conversation.

“Are you all right?” she asked gently, frowning.

He scowled. “It’s a tickle, love. Nothing to worry about—no need to mother me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve parented me enough times; it seems to be my turn.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Not even a chance, little one.”

She grinned. Though he was a well-known, experienced dom in the BDSM world, they didn’t have that kind of relationship. He’d met her at one of her brother’s hockey games when she was just 17 and had given her a pass to his club for her 18th birthday. He’d even paid for her ticket to London from Stockholm, although there had been no sex involved. He’d said he simply wanted to expose her to something she might enjoy because there had been no doubt she was already sexually active. Emilie had fallen into the role of a dominatrix naturally, and he’d made sure to let her explore every aspect of the lifestyle under his supervision. He’d never participated in her sexual exploits, but he’d overseen everyone she was with in the beginning, making sure her exposure to BDSM was a healthy and positive one. Fortunately, he had no idea how far off course she’d veered over the years.

“The wheels in your mind are spinning so fast I can practically see them turning,” he said softly, gazing into her bright blue eyes with his tired brown ones.

“I need a favor,” she said after a moment. “But I’m struggling with how to ask.”

He frowned. “You’re afraid to ask me for something?”

“Not afraid,” she shook her head. “Embarrassed.”

He cocked his head. “Considering the lifestyle I live, what I do for a living and how long we’ve known each other, I’m almost afraid to ask what could possibly embarrass you or me.”

She looked down. “Will you allow me to be your slave for a short time?”

His mouth fell open and he blinked rapidly. Then a loud, bellowing laugh escaped his belly as he threw his head back. “Okay, you got me! It was a good one, too.”

She shook her head rapidly. “No, Warren, you don’t understand.”

“I’m 74 years old and you’re like the child I never had, despite the fact that I’ve watched you have sex dozens of times. But I did that so I could assure myself you were being trained properly! It isn’t the same as actually having relations with you myself—that’s a line I would never cross! What on earth are you going on about?” His clipped British accent got more distinct as he became obviously agitated.

“I know, but there’s no one else I trust.”

“Emilie, even if I was willing, and I assure you I’m not, we’re both dominant. Though you’ve been a switch in recent years, at your core you’re as much a dom as I am.” A switch referred to the BDSM term for someone who could be either a dominant or a submissive.

She averted her gaze. “I need to do this. I can’t keep going the way I’ve been.” She got up and began to unbutton her blouse.

“Emilie.” His voice was a quiet but firm protest.

“This isn’t what you think,” she said with a shake of her head. “I only want to show you what happened.”

He frowned but nodded as she dropped her blouse. She heard his soft gasp as he practically leapt from his chair, coming around the desk to stand behind her. “Emilie, what have you done?” He ran gentle fingers over the ugly purple bruises that had begun to form on her skin.

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