Before James can react, I shove Daniel’s hand off and press my palm to his chest, giving a gentle push. Daniel stumbles back a step, his smile transforming to a sneer.
“Also, I don’t date homophobic, misogynistic twats like you. And should there ever be the dire misfortune where we end up alone, where sex may be suggested to save humanity, I would rather superglue my labia closed and douse myself in bleach before you ever got anywhere near my body. I hope that clears up this misunderstanding entirely manufactured by yourself. Have a lovely evening, Daniel.”
Daniel’s face twists. “I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near you, you frigid bitch!” he spits after me as I walk away.
I grab James’s arm as he whirls round to stop anything further escalating, knowing full well he won’t stand for that from him. “Just keep walking, James. Don't give him the satisfaction. There's CCTV all over this place; it'll play right into his hands.”
Alexandra Ravensbrook
Chapter 27
James
My anger surges to the surface. I could fucking kill him, rip him apart for calling Isabelle that. I haven’t punched someone in years, but I’d happily start again right now just to see that sneer ripped from his face. My gut churns with fury, and my jaw clenches so hard I can feel my teeth grinding. It’s purely Isabelle’s touch on my arm leading me away that stops me from kicking the shit out of him. Hearing her talk down to Daniel that way also does things to me I don’t expect. She has a feisty, nasty side, and I’m eager to hear more.
“Isabelle, he had no right to talk to you that way,” I bite, trying desperately to suppress my rage.
“Yeah, well, neither do any other men, yet they feel totally entitled to talk to women that way when they’re rejected. It’s his issue. Don’t make it ours.”
Ours.
Yes, Miss
I like how she says that. I’ve been so alone these past few years, I’d forgotten what it’s like to be in a relationship. My breathing evens out, and my heart rate slows to normal. How she takes everything in her stride amazes me. The only time I’ve ever seen her anything but calm was when she had her extra piano lessons as a student. Back then, she had been quiet, almost distracted and withdrawn for a while.
The need to know what happened back then consumes my thoughts as we both drive our cars to the nearby restaurant. I walk across the parking lot to meet her as she climbs out. Holding her door open for her, I offer my hand. Her soft fingers interlace with mine, and electricity shoots through me. My stomach flips as I look down at her. Her waves fall over her shoulders, her blouse buttoned up a little more than it had been in the music room. Her pale, creamy skin glows as she smiles up at me, looking like an innocent angel while knowing she’s anything but.
We’ve only fooled around so far, but God, I crave her touch—the feeling of her silky soft skin against mine, her warmth, her soft apple scent invading my senses. The way her gentle voice controls me, soothes me, makes me want to hold back just to please her.
I want to be inside of her. I want to feel her around me, to hear her moans as I fuck her just the way she likes it.
I’ve pictured taking control with her, like she mentioned that night in the club—the side of me that’s
Alexandra Ravensbrook
more of a switch. But the way she talked about bondage makes me think there’s a history there we need to discuss.
We take a seat at a window table at the back of the restaurant. I pull Isabelle’s chair back for her to sit, and we order a bottle of wine. The waiter brings the bottle and glasses, and as we take our first sip, I broach the subject I’ve been wanting to talk about. Nerves run through me at the thought of getting the answer I’ve been fearing.
Taking a deep breath, I start, “Iz, when we talked about limits, you went quiet about restraints. Is there something I need to know? I’m not trying to pry, but I think we should discuss anything that might cause an issue.” I pause, hesitancy creeping into my voice. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Iz.”
She looks out the window and sighs, taking a large gulp of her wine. “I don’t want to get into too much detail right now, James, because I want to enjoy tonight, but all I’ll say is, I was in an unhealthy relationship with someone who didn’t respect my boundaries, and there was non-consensual activity while I was forcibly restrained.”
It feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I want to throw up. Has she been raped? “Iz—”
“James,” she interrupts, her look firm yet soft. “I’m okay. I’ve moved on, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore, please. Maybe at some point, but not now.”
Yes, Miss
“Can I ask one more question?” I venture. She nods and sits back, looking down into her glass. “Was it when you were having piano lessons with me?” Her head snaps up, and she fixes me with a look of shock.
“Erm, actually, yes, it was. I assume by that question I hadn’t hidden it as well as I thought I had.”
Shit. She was eighteen then. If I had known, I would have helped her, supported her. I was her teacher. I feel sick to my stomach that she dealt with this without the school’s support.
“Iz, why didn’t you say anything to me? I could have helped you. I was your teacher. I knew something was up,” my voice pleads. I wish I could go back in time and help her. It was my job to look after my students and report concerns. Moreover, I wanted to help.
“James, I’m not discussing it now. Please, leave it. There was nothing you could have done; it was over by that point. Don’t let it eat you up. Speaking of which, let’s order. I’m starving!”
