He chose to start at the beginning.
Lifting his cup, he took several sips of coffee, organizing memories and recollections. Realistically, he was too exhausted to even attempt a grand speech, so he settled for what came to mind, without censorship or forethought. “I loved you the second I saw you. My brain went blank, my heart fell at your feet, and every cell in my body leaned toward you as if you were my personal sun. There was no one else but you from that moment. You owned me more than I’ve ever admitted to anyone, but everyone knew.”
Violet almost rolled her eyes; he saw her check the movement as her lips tightened into a thin white line.
“I know you don’t believe me, Bennie. My actions belied my words in the end—at least, in your eyes. After a month together, there was a ring in a box sitting in the inner pocket of my jacket. I carried it everywhere, waiting for the perfect moment to propose.” When her expression went blank, he raised his cup in silent triumph. “Bet you didn’t know that, did you?”
She shook her head, swallowing hard. “No.”
“The moment didn’t show itself the first year, but what I felt for you outgrew the ring. The business had grown, my financeswere better, so I exchanged it for another. And another. And another,” he said wearily. “The moment never came, but my love didn’t stop growing, outshining the one piece of jewelry I was desperate for you to wear. Christmases, New Year’s Eves, Thanksgivings, birthdays, anniversaries… nothing I planned seemed worthy of you.
“The thing was, even as those rings burned a hole in my damn pocket, I felt the frustration inside you. The longer we were together, the more you submitted to me in and out of scenes, I could feel you screaming. From the beginning, you always had a slightly rebellious streak—little acts of defiance, the hint of reluctance when asked to do something, flashes of temper in your eyes if I told you to kneel. Submission was your gift, Violet, but it wasn’t the sum of you.” Reaux rubbed his thumb over his mouth, watching emotions run riot over her face. “I don’t know if you remember the times I tried encouraging you to step out of your role as sub and try your hand at domination, but I do. Admittedly, I didn’t push too hard, afraid of losing you if I was right.”
“All those times you made me top the other subs…” Violet frowned, her gaze vacant as she stumbled back through her memories. “You were testing me.”
“You passed with flying colors.”
“Fuck you.”
“Believe me, I’ve cursed myself with much more imaginative language than that. The strain began to show in our last couple years together. Every time we were together, in bed or at Amatory, it felt like fucking a bomb on the brink of detonation. Exciting, thrilling, slightly masochistic, yet on the same hand, devastating. You were restrained, restricted, on levels far deeper than the physical form, Bennie. By my hand. And that… that is where I royally fucked us.”
“The dismissal.”
“No. It was never meant to be a breakup, a dismissal, a rejection. That would have meant severing all the tiny, thriving threads of love connecting my heart to yours, killing it in the process.” Apparently sleep deprivation riled his imagination into overdrive. “I tackled the situation from a Dom’s perspective, which is where I went tragically wrong. My aim was to let you fly, spread your wings, and come back to me as my equal. That’s all I ever wanted, you with me, reigning over Amatory as my equal, not my submissive. But instead of keeping you close, mentoring you, teaching you everything I knew and offering myself as your practice dummy, I did the unthinkable.”
Her eyes were wet now, tears sliding delicately down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Bennie. Truly. For cutting you loose. For letting you believe even for one instant that my love was dead and buried. For not coming after you sooner. I’m sorry for everything my actions and my words set into motion.”
She sniffled, her composure breaking. “Pretty words, Reaux. How long did it take before another sub took my place in your bed?”
“You’re not the only one who spent the last two years celibate, Violet. How could I be intimate with anyone else when my heart was nailed to the one person I want? Yes, I teach, I dominate, I make the subs cry and plead for mercy, but not once in twelve years have I strayed from being faithful.”
She couldn’t hide her instinctive need to refuse the idea that he, too, could have spent their time apart alone. It glowed in her eyes, righteous indignation, but he was prepared for it because he’d thought of all the ways she might react, the wayshewould react in the same situation, and how he would feel if she’d slept with other men.
Of course, he knew now she’d been just as faithful, although the reasons were still unclear, but he needed to believe it wasbecause her heart still felt the attachment of those tendrils as deeply and sharply as he did.
Before she could lash out with something she couldn’t take back, he reached into his jacket pocket and set a small black box on the table between them.
“Upgrade number twelve,” he murmured. “The tradition hasn’t changed or stopped in your absence, Bennie.”
That rendered her speechless, he noted with some satisfaction. Her gaze flicked from the box to his face, the box to his face, as though it was a landmine. Her fingers twitched before she linked her hands together and placed them in her lap. “You still have it?”
“It stays with me, every day.” He nudged it closer. “The only way it leaves my possession is if it does so on your finger. Open it—it’s yours, after all.”
“Are you proposing?”
Reaux laughed. “I waited ten years for the perfect moment and never found it. Do you think I’d just randomly ask you to marry me without resolving the issue haunting us both?”
“With you, anything is possible,” she muttered, then glanced up as the waiter returned with a tray. “Thank you, Petey. That smells wonderful.”
Solemnly, the young man set fresh cutlery on the table, then carefully presented the plate. A glass of fresh orange juice followed. In a an oddly halting voice, he said, “Allan said you like juice in the morning, Mistress. The food is…” Evidently frustrated, he tried to enunciate a word, couldn’t quite manage it. “Not reheated. New.”
Eyes softening, Violet laid her hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “You’ve done an excellent job, Petey. Tell Allan I said so.”
Perking up considerably, he almost quivered like an overstimulated puppy. The man adored her, that much wasclear, and her quiet tone, gentle touch, and kind words meant a lot to him. “Thank you, Mistress. I’ll tell him now.”
“Good boy.” She unwrapped the napkin from around her cutlery as he damn near sprinted back to the kitchen. Catching Reaux’s questioning stare, she sighed. “Petey is a little special. He has some issues, so he mainly stays in the kitchen unless it’s quiet out here. He’s very sweet, highly sensitive, but just wants to please.”
