Page 62 of Deep Control

“Did you find the place okay?” he asked.

I nodded, clutching my hands together. “Is your real name Massimiliano?”

“Yes.”

How had I not known that? For all the times we’d played together at The Gallery, I barely knew him at all.

“Do you actually make violins?” I knew his dad owned Fierro Violins, but I never thought Milo and the other employees assembled them in the middle of Manhattan.

“I do. I make them, I play them, I sell them. Please, have a seat.”

His office was like the lobby, only smaller and more intimidating. He sat behind a polished wood desk and leaned back in his chair, pursing his lips.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

“No problem. Does Devin know you’re here?”

I looked down at my lap, then back at his intense stare. “I haven’t talked to him since…that night.”

“Oh, yes, the night he punched me out for you, and you broke up with him in front of all his friends.”

His tone was difficult to read. Maybe angry, maybe furious. Maybe just unfriendly. If I could have gone back in time and not come here, I would’ve, but it was too late now.

“That night was difficult for both of us,” I said. “Things got crazy.”

“Yeah, I was there.”

“My relationship with Devin was always difficult. He’s so busy with his pilot’s schedule, and I’m so busy with my research—”

“We’re all busy.” Milo cut me off, merciless. “But he made time for you, more than he’d made for any submissive before.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, what can I do for you? Why are you here?”

“To ask you to help me get over him.”

His brows flew up. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, help me by taking me to The Gallery.” Now it was easy to read his mood—angry—but I swallowed and forged ahead. “I haven’t gone because I don’t have a sponsor, and I’m not really interested in going to any of the other BDSM clubs in town. I was hoping you’d take me to The Gallery, or sponsor me, or whatever, so I could…” My words spilled out, weak and pleading. “I want to be hurt. Badly.”

“Ella…”

“Otherwise I’ll keep thinking about him, or I’ll go after him, and that won’t be good for either of us, but especially him.”

“You are talking so much bullshit at me right now.”

His gruff words shut me down. I bit my lip and closed my mouth, and started to get up. “Sorry, I’m stupid,” I said under my breath.

He came from behind the desk and arrested my flight. “Sit your ass down. I know you’re not stupid, so something else is going on.” He sat in the chair beside mine, blocking the door. “So, to be clear, you came here to ask me,Devin’s best friend, to take you to The Gallery. Is that right?”

I couldn’t look at him, so I answered to my lap. “I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“The Gallery was Dev’s place before it was yours.”

“Is he still going there?” When I hatched this plan to find masochistic release, I convinced myself I wouldn’t mind if I ran into him, that it wouldn’t be awkward, since we hadn’t spoken in months. “If he’s there, it wouldn’t bother me. I don’t think it would bother him.”

“Bother him? He’s been there every week since you cut him loose, Ella. He’s been going crazy on every blonde bimbo in the place. I don’t think he’d even notice if I brought you.”

“Oh.” I swallowed hard, feeling surprised. Jealous. Devastated. “Good for him.”

“I’m lying to you, you little bitch. He’s been working his tail off, staying in on the weekends, moping over you like a pathetic motherfucker. And I hate to see it, I really do, but that’s life, you know? Women cut you loose, you work through it, you move on. But here you are.”

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