Page 159 of Pucking Obsessed

Possibly, not exactly this.

But I’m not the first person that Heine has used his influence and power to coerce. That’s why he’s so calm.

Except, if he thinks that I’ll be rattled, crying, and broken, then he’s going to be disappointed. Because this isn’tmyfirst time being threatened and menaced.

Or even the second, third, orfourthtime.

Wilder did worse to me than this, when he hazed me at college.

Heine thinks that he knows me but he doesn’t. He believes that I’m merely some playboy player. He has no idea the darkness that I’ve survived.

My worry is that Shay and Robyn aren’t all right. I’d have already found a way to overpower Heine, despite my weakness (I’ve learned a number of methods in my dom training), if it wasn’t for the fear that someone else is holding my lovers.

I won’t gamble with their lives.

If Heine wants one night with me, then I’ll endure that. I simply need to remind him that there’s the important game tomorrow.

That’s my chance to escape.

He has to let me go for that, right?

“Aren’t you old enough now to talk to your dad yourself?” I question.

A shadow crosses Heine’s face. “I’m older, but Dad hasn’t changed. Don’t you remember what he’s like?”

“I do. What excuse am I going to make?” I can play along that we’re going to play house. “I could say that as owner of the Bay Rebels, you want to stay and learn more about the industry, since the season is going well. I’ll tell him that I’ve offered my home to you.”

Heine’s expression softens. His shoulders slump with relief.

He runs his fingers through the ash gray of my costume’s wing like it’s my hair. “That works. I’d lie awake at night, you know, fantasizing that we’d meet, and you’d say:you’re not leaving; I’m keeping you safe here with me. Yet you never did.”

My throat is tight.

Because there were some days when Heine and I were friends, and I’d see the bruised mess that he was in, when those words were on the tip of my tongue.

Faced with someone who was being hurt, whether it was by their dom, partner, or parent, I could never walk on by.

Heine wasn’t something special. Yet I made him feel like he was.

Has anyone else cared about him? Cared that he was hurting?

“I’m sorry,” I say, quietly.

I’m not sorry that I didn’t choose to take Heine on as my sub. I’m sorry that I didn’t work out a way to help him earlier.

I am also sorry, however, that my fumbled early attempts at being a good friend, at a time when I was barely equipped to look after myself, have led him to fixate on me as his savior.

Heine pales, staring at me in shock. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying sorry?”

It’s the first genuine thing that he’s said.

I cock my brow. “That depends. What are you apologizing for?”

His gaze skitters from mine. “Our last scene. I pushed the boundaries…”

“Youbrokethem. Just like you are now. I promise not to leave this room, if you take the rope off my wrists.”

“Well, if you promise…” Heine’s voice is back to its casual, sarcastic drawl.

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