She shifts in my lap, but doesn’t say anything. “I didn’t realize a month later would be the last time I saw you until four years later.” Running my hand up and down her spine. “I did try to look for you, but the day after you disappeared, Donovan called me looking for you. Something wasn’t right, so I asked Malachi and Leo to keep an ear out, just in case. Admittedly, we didn’t try too hard because I was afraid Donovan would find out and would find you before we did.”
Thinking back to the lunches we had once a month. “There’s this guy in town that’s always known about the dealings Donovan does and he thought I was somehow involved because he would see the three of us having lunch once a month together. After you disappeared, I noticed things began changing in this town and realized Donovan was using those monthly visits to also do his business in this town. I thought the kid was hotheaded because why would Donovan come up here, three hours away from his home, and infiltrate this city? But he was right.”
Olivia pushes on my chest to sit up. She drops her legs as I place one arm around her waist and the other in her lap. Grabbing my hand, she begins to run her finger along my thumb ring. “This was the only city I knew of that was hours away from him, but it wasn’t the best decision on my part,” she murmurs. “I need to tell you something.”
I run my hand up her spine and cup the back of her neck. She glances at me briefly before looking back at my hand. Running my fingers through her hair, I love the way the silkiness feelsagainst my skin as it calms me. My muscles relax as I prepare for what she needs to tell me.
“Donovan killed mom.” It’s the last thing I expected her to say. Removing my hand from her lap and hair, I ball my hands into fists.
“How do you know?” I ask.
She sighs. “I used to play in the dumbwaiter. It was the only thing about that house I loved. As I got older and after mom died, I used it as a way to hide and eavesdrop, desperate to get out of that house and away from him. So, I did what I could to find out any kind of secrets to use against him. He was taking over this city, but he only visited once a month because of our lunches.” She shrugs. “I thought once I was out of the picture he wouldn’t visit as often, but because it’s along the Mississippi River, he can use the port, so it’s valuable to him. I know he uses the Savannah, Miami, and New Orleans ports. This one is closer though.”
“Anyway, one day when he got home I wanted a few extra minutes without him, so I climbed into the dumbwaiter, trying to get it to go to the second floor where I could disappear into my room for a bit, but wasn’t quick enough. If I tried, he’d hear it, so I sat in there.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to dislodge the memories.
“He was talking to one of his men that stayed at the house. I can’t remember which one it was since he had so many that came and went. The guy asked Donovan what he needed to do with mom’s car. Donovan told him to take it to the junkyard and crush it so no evidence would be left. Ruth overheard as she was coming into the kitchen and she started laying into him. Questioning him about what evidence. She then asked him point-blank if he killed my mom and he said yes. Then he shot her in the head.”
I gently push her off my lap, even though everything in me is screaming to punch something. Anything. She stands and walks to the other side of the desk, giving me my space and maybe needing space of her own. I walk to the door that leads out to the balcony, open it, and step outside. Staring out over the property, I realize something has to be done about Donovan.
He can’t get away with all that he’s done over the years. To Margaret, Olivia, and the people within this town and probably other towns throughout the South. I knew he had operations in a port here and in New Orleans. If he’s also got operations in Savannah and Miami, I’m sure there are others as well. Olivia’s soft footsteps come up behind me and she wraps her arms around my waist, laying her head on my back.
I smile to myself because she’s become comfortable touching me and I love that. Olivia shows affection easily to those she’s close to, probably because she craved the right kind of affection growing up. I place my hands on top of hers and squeeze them before turning in her arms to wrap her in an embrace. She melts into me and it feeds my soul. Olivia is everything I never knew I needed.
“I’m so sorry,dolce ragazza. I wish I could take back every bad thing that’s ever happened to you. One day soon I hope you’ll allow me to kiss every visible scar.” She blinks up at me and offers me a small smile.
“I did like when you kissed the scar on my collarbone.” Her voice is quiet. She’s still shy about admitting those things. I’ll help her overcome that and show her there’s nothing wrong with wanting what she wants.
Grabbing her hand, I turn it to see the scar between her thumb and forefinger. I bring it up to my mouth and kiss it lightly, never taking my eyes off hers. Her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink and her eyes dilate. As I lift my head back up, I wink at her.
“I believe I promised you a conversation.”
Chapter thirty-one
Olivia
My mouth is suddenly dry and my heart isn’t just beating fast, it’s also beating erratically. Not that I don’t want to have this conversation. I do. We walk back into his office. He motions for me to sit across from him again and takes his place behind his desk again. Victor opens a drawer and brings out a folder that he opens. He places one piece of paper in front of him and hands me the other.
“This is a contract of sorts. We’ll go through this list together and tell each other our limits. I have already taken the liberty of labeling my hard limits. However, before we begin, I want to talk about the dynamics of a Dominant/submissive relationship and the different types. We need to talk through that first because this list doesn’t just include items that happen in the bedroom. I don’t think we should enter a total power exchange, which is us entering a twenty-four-hour seven days a week commitment.Usually couples enter that if they’re living together and have been in a relationship for a while.”
Listening closely, I take in all of his words so I don’t miss anything. Shifting to the edge of my chair to glance over the contract he gave me, I don’t really take in what I’m looking at. I kind of figured this would be the first step to entering this kind of relationship, but now that it’s happening, I’m a little unsure.
“Olivia, what are you thinking?” His voice is firm, letting me know I must answer.
“I’ve done research and I’m intrigued about this becoming a total power exchange. I like when you help me make decisions.” Clearing my throat, I have to force myself to not shake my leg. “The thing is…” I pause and take a deep breath.What if this is a deal breaker for him?“I don’t think I’m ready to have sex. I like kissing you and sometimes I want more, but what if I never want that?” Finally, looking at him I’m surprised he’s not frustrated or angry.
“We’ll take this as slow as you need to. There is a theory that BDSM can help heal those who have been through a trauma like yours. That’s something we can explore when I believe you’re ready.” He waits for me to respond and looks at me expectantly.
“So, you’re going to decide when I’m ready?” My anxiety evaporates.
“Yes. I believe if I leave it up to you, you won’t take the leap. As your Dom, it’s my responsibility to push you beyond your comfort zone. However, we will decide on your safe word and you will be able to use it. But you have to agree not to use it to get out of something that you just don’t want to do. You use it when you have reached your limit. I would prefer to do the red, yellow, green system to gauge how you feel about what we’re doing.”
I nod and swallow. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?”
“The idea of you deciding when I’m ready makes me feel more at ease.” I slump slightly in my chair and force myself to open up to him completely. “I hate deciding what to wear each day. It’s such a simple task, but some days it’s hard. I have to pick something that covers the scar on my collarbone just enough or fix my hair so it covers it. The thought of wearing a dress makes me anxious because I don’t want anyone to see the scars on my thighs.”
He leans forward on his desk. “I understand you having those anxieties, but what is the likelihood of someone actually seeing the scars on your thighs if you wear a dress?”
