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“Just the basics. I like to text good morning and good night, and I asked him to let me know where his shoots were and that he got there okay.”

“Did he have any rules for you?”

“Our job is dangerous, he’d worry if he didn’t hear from me after I’d gotten back from a call, so he liked me to text him just to let him know I was safe.”

Knight nods. “Did you have joint checking accounts? Did you split the rent when you lived together?”

“No, we each had our own bank accounts, and when he moved in with me, I paid the rent. I paid all the bills.”

“Did you have rules about money?” he probes.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Sexually, were you compatible? I’m assuming you used a safe word or the traffic light system during your sexual encounters?”

“We were very sexually compatible; he was a bratty sub who enjoyed being…” I force out the words. “Forced to submit. And I enjoyed forcing him.”

“Was it always a scene? Did you have spontaneous sex without the Dom-sub aspect?”

“We only ever scened at the club. At home I was in charge, but it was different.”

“Did you ever rape him? Force him to do something he didn’t want to? Did he use his safe word often?”

Fury burns through me as I straighten to my full height. “Are you fucking serious? Of course I never raped him.”

“And his safe word? How many times did he use it to stop a sexual encounter?”

“Never.”

“Never?” he questions, his brow raised in disbelief.

“Never. His limits were a little more intense than mine, and we never did anything that ever got close to him using his safe word.”

“So let me get this right. You never raped him or sexually intimidated him into doing something he didn’t want to. He had his own money but didn’t contribute anything to your joint living costs, despite holding down a job. He had friends and an active social life. Were you verbally abusive?”

“No, name calling is not my kink,” I say mulishly.

“Brother, unless you’re downplaying this to make yourself sound better, I’m still yet to see what it is that you did that could be considered abuse. Did you have rules that were unreasonable or impossible to follow? Did you have punishments in place if he broke a rule?”

“No, we didn’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Are you still in contact with him?”

“No,” I shout.

“What was his name? Gabe…”

“Campbell.”

“Where were you living?”

“San Francisco.”

“How old was he, what did he do?” Knight questions.

“He was two years older than me, so I guess he’d be thirty-seven now. He was a photographer.”

Nodding, Knight pulls his cell from his pocket and starts tapping at the screen. A few moments pass before he brings his cell to his ear, and I watch in stunned silence as he says the words.