“Think about putting it in a safe or at least some place he doesn’t know where to find it. You got lucky this time, but a bullet to the head would be fatal. Well, I don’t need to tell you that.” He scans the heart monitor once more. “I’ll be back to check on him in the morning. Give him a lot of fluids and soft foods, blankets, comfort. I’ll leave some anti-anxiety meds too. And I’ll get you the number of a friend of mine, Rebekah. She has experience with patients who’ve been sexually assaulted.” Dr. Greyson lays a hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing the best you can, Valentin. And he is too.”
The doctor leaves and I send Rico home as well. I give him the next couple days off to recover and cancel my own work commitments. I take a seat next to Giovanni’s bedside and grab the hand on his good arm to bring his slender fingers to my lips. “Jesus Christ, kid, what the hell am I going to do with you?”
Giovanni is stillin bed the next day when I have my people come over to take measurements for the glass I’m getting installed on the balcony—bulletproof so we can kill two birds with one stone. I tell the contractor about my other situation, needing a man-sized container for a kid who likes to carve himself up.
“Yeah, we can do that, Boss, no problem,” he says with a thick Brooklyn brogue. That sort of can-do attitude is what I like to hear.
“Ventilation, stainless-steel sink and toilet. Like a tiny prison cell. But make it nice.” This isn’t supposed to be some torture chamber. This is meant to be Giovanni’s safe space. He can even decorate it if he wants. “And make sure I can lock it from the outside.” He nods without looking up and scribbles something on his notepad.
When the workers leave, I take up the seat next to Giovanni. He’s been watching the goings on with some interest. “Renovations,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry, Valentin,” he says and begins to cry softly. His lower lip puckers and he sucks it back into his mouth. I stroke his cheeks, collecting his tears with my thumb. I wish I could absorb his trauma like a sponge and free him from it altogether. “It was the demons,” he tries to explain.
“The voices?”
“Yeah. They told me I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and thank God his grandfather isn’t alive to see him like this. I recall the conversation between us on his deathbed where he thanked me for my service and asked for one last favor, to take care of his grandson in his absence.“I know you love him, Valentin. Maybe not like that. But he needs your guidance and your discipline too…”
I tried in those months after Matthew Sr. passed, to be a friend and mentor to Giovanni. I knew about the drugs and the partying, but I didn’t step in soon enough.
“You are worth the trouble,” I say to him now. He bites his lower lip, an internal struggle taking place. He wants to believe me, but the voices are just too damn loud. He needs a purpose and a place to belong. More importantly, a person to belong to. A man to rule him. I’m flying blind but I say, “Will you stay here with me and be my boy?”
He studies me intently. “What does that mean?” he asks, likely recalling our recent exploration in my dungeon.
“There are some things we still have to figure out, but for now, it means you follow my rules. We make a daily schedule for you, and you follow that too. You tell me when the voices are getting noisy, when you think you might hurt yourself, and I’ll have a place you can go.”
“I don’t want to leave,” he says in a sudden panic. I squeeze his hand.
“You’re not going anywhere. I’ll have a safe place for you here inside the apartment where you can go when you need a timeout. You’ll be able to see me, and I’ll be able to see you, but you won’t be able to hurt yourself.”
“I can wait them out,” he assures me. “The voices. They get loud, but eventually, they quiet again.”
“All right then. We have a plan. You’re going to fight those voices in your head, and I’m going to help you. I’m going to take care of you, Giovanni, because you are worth it to me.Repeat it back to me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”
“I am worth it to you.”
“Damn right you are.”
We’rea few weeks into our new routine when I invite my friend Keller over for a drink. He’s in the lifestyle, someone I’ve known for more than a decade. I’m gradually trying to socialize Giovanni with people I know and trust. He gets along well with Rico, which is why Rico is now his permanent security detail. None of the other guys have the patience or the understanding. Rico also doesn’t run his mouth, which is good because my privacy is paramount to me.
Giovanni is now swimming most mornings and sticking to the diet a nutritionist laid out for him. He asked her to design one for me too, which means I haven’t eaten bacon or anything fried in weeks. He even convinced me to quit smoking cigarettes! Every hour of his day is scheduled, whether I’m here or not, and for the most part, he sticks to his routines. There is some backtalk and sullenness, some foot stomping and the occasional snotty remark. If he was truly my submissive, I’d discipline him more rigorously, but I’m figuring this thing out as we go.
“Play me something,” I tell Giovanni when my security informs me that Keller has arrived. “When you’re ready, come over and I’ll introduce you.”
He’s like a cat in this way, slinking around corners or lingering in doorways whenever someone new comes to the house. The first time he met Agnella, my housekeeper and laundress, he followed her from room to room and stood just close enough to watch her go about her business. Now, they chat in Italian with each other, mostly about a soap opera they both watch. Aside from her and Rico, I’m the only person he interacts with, and he’s been reluctant to leave the building, only for the occasional drive through the city.
I greet Keller at the door and welcome him inside while Giovanni takes him in. Bred from sturdy Irish stock, Keller is a large man with an impressive physique. He’s a leather daddy with rope fetish and has become a bit of a bear in his later years, always scouting for a new boy to add to his menagerie of submissives.
“Who’s this?” Keller asks, immediately zeroing in on the young man at the piano. He and I both have an eye for beauty.
“That’s Giovanni.”
“A new sub?”
Giovanni’s ears perk up at that.
“We’re not putting a label on it just yet.”
