Page 12 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

Reasonable Acts

When Jackson reappeared, it was with neither triumph nor regret on his face. The only better poker face than mine. Monica saw enough, though. She saw right through the ridiculous fa?ade that he mounted when he approached the women sitting on his couch.

“Monica,”

he genially said.

“could you come into my office? I kindly ask that you stay here, Evangeline.”

When the latter was about to inquire what that was about, Monica shook her head. Here we go. Whatever Jackson wanted was about to be laid on the proverbial table, and he wanted Monica to hear it.

She thought of her daughter and the way Abigail raced into the car after school to show Monica the good marks she got on her spelling and math quizzes. The crafts she makes. Her childlike wonder that past Christmas when she took a picture with Santa Claus and toured the bright, twinkling lights on display in a historical neighborhood.

I will do anything to get her back. Before it was too late. Before Abigail’s childhood preemptively ended.

She entered the office, which had only minorly changed in the decade since Monica was last in this prison. This wasn’t Jackson’s real home office – that one was upstairs, near his quarters. This one was for entertaining guests in a business-like setting, since Jackson didn’t have an office he owned or rented in the city. When he was Ethan Cole’s business partner, he made liberal use of the conference rooms in the formerly name.

“Jackson-Cole” building.

The biggest change was the painting on the wall. While this didn’t surprise Monica – and, honestly, assuaged her worries – she still hadn’t anticipated what hung in its stead. Because where once a portrait of herself hung on prominent display in Mr. Lyle’s office, there was now an evocative painting of Paisley, proving that she was Jackson’s partner for the foreseeable future.

Monica wondered how many there had been since she violently left this house. She only knew of a handful, none lasting more than two years. But she knew there had been others – lesser women in Jackson’s clouded eyes. Since Monica left him, he hadn’t shown any other woman the promised monogamy that Jackson had bestowed upon Monica. He was a liar, anyway. The monogamy was only a pretense because he had no problems introducing extraneous partners when it suited him. Let alone their ongoing threeway with Ethan…

Even when he did not participate, there had been others who appeared in their bedroom. And Monica had been expected to lay with all of them, whether she was attracted to them or not.

Her purse strap was taut in her hand as she gazed at Paisley’s portrait. Her silver off-the-shoulder dress showed off more than her arms and cleavage. Her legs poked out of the slit in the skirt, and she blew pursed kisses to the painter who didn’t hesitate to capture her sexuality in oil. The lighting in this painting is exquisite. Monica wondered if it was the same middle-aged professional who had painted her likeness fifteen years ago.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Jackson poured himself a glass of brandy from the small bar he kept in this office. Monica didn’t have to ask the make. One sniff and she knew the exact year it was made.

“You’d never guess where I met her. Well, maybe you would. In New York. That naughty club beneath the streets of Manhattan. You know the one.”

Indeed, she did. Jackson was banned from The Dark Hour, something Damon Monroe had no trouble doing on his own accord after he heard what happened between his rival and the man who had tried to ruin her life. In fact, Jackson wasn’t welcomed at many kinky establishments in New England. Where Monica and Henry had influence, Jackson was ejected. It hadn’t stopped him from finding new partners in other places, though. He had enough money to buy his way in, as long as his name was still good.

“Never thought I’d be into the bratty type.”

Jackson sat on the front of his desk, one hand in his pocket while the other held his brandy to his mouth.

“Paisley hasn’t bored me yet, though. But she is woefully undertrained. I have half a mind to send her to that new club you’re opening in the city. You’re offering training as taught by your harlots, yes?”

She didn’t deign that with an answer.

“What did Jean-Pierre tell you?”

“Right, right.”

With a smack of his lips, Jackson lowered his glass.

“You don’t want to hear how I am perfectly capable of moving on as well. You want to find your daughter.”

Monica did not care for the way he said that as if it were a preposterous notion.

“Well, Jean-Pierre was quite busy over there. Do you know what time it was? I had to come up with a burning good reason to ring him at two in the morning, Monica. Made him talk shop about a business acquaintance we have in Belgium. Sounded like I was thinking of investing as many Euros as possible into a stupid venture I needed him to talk me out of… anyway, once that was done, I plied him with innocent questions about his family. Asked him if his pretty ADU was available so I could come visit in a couple of days. You know the drill.”

Get on with it, anyway. Monica swallowed her impatience. “And?”

“It was being turned over. Took him a moment to admit that it was your mother-in-law and daughter staying there, and only because I was willing to say the most awful things I could think of about you, Monica. Your name is quite poisoned in the Beaumont house, but you have Isabella to thank for that more than me.”

She played her hand before she intended: her eyes lit up, her mouth parted, and she took one generous step forward.

“Where are they?”

she gasped.

“Ah, ah.”

He held a finger up before her face.

“First, I want you to appreciate the fantastic game I played to get the answer out of him. Because you have something that I want, Monica. And that was what fueled me through the entire conversation.”

There it was. That guttural growl when he dropped his fa?ade and showed her the conniving monster behind the handsome clothes and sinful cologne. Somehow, that tone of voice evoked more memories than being in this place she called home for nearly ten years. Does it feel like a former home, though? No. It had become her prison, her tower patrolled by a dragon.

The Chateau was home. Warren Manor was home.

Yet her body remembered. Her soul reacted. Her heart, meanwhile, remained broken.

I’m sorry, Henry.

“What do you want?”

she coolly asked.

She saw his hand coming before her body sensed it too close, too near. But was she prepared for his smooth fingers to tip her chin, for his thumb to press against her lips? No. I never will be. Not again. Because that was not her husband’s tender touch. It wasn’t even her Dom’s steady but trusting hand.

It was the lion’s dangerous paw threatening to behead her.

“The other women since you…”

He spoke as if he were at the end of his life, making amends to someone who was no longer there. And he touched her as if she were no longer there.

“None of them have come close to your alacrity, or your beauty.”

His knuckles brushed against her cheek, sending a torturous shiver through her entire body. It was disgust – rejection. Yet it was also the muscle memory of the younger Monica who had not yet met a man named Henry Warren. The one who told me he had loved me since I was with this man. The one who had rushed to France to find their daughter, the external symbol of their devotion to one another.

She refused to cry in front of the lion. She had walked into this den willingly, after all.

“You will always be the one that got away from me, Monica. I think you know that. You’re as aware of your perfection as a bird is as aware of its flight. You flew away from me.”

One knuckle pressed into her cheek. She did not waver.

“I’ve dreamed of the day you returned to this palace of our love.”

She fortressed herself against his words.

“I did not come here to return to your arms, Jackson,”

she said.

“I came here for information on my daughter.”

“No, you didn’t come here for a burning desire to see me again. You’ve always made that quite clear.”

He lowered his hand.

“As feisty as you were when you were last here… ha! You only made me love you more. My sweet, tender dove who flew the cage. What a fool I was for leaving the door open.”

“What do you want, Jackson?”

“In exchange for the very valuable information I now possess.”

He grinned.

“I think you have an idea. But do you know exactly what? No, I don’t think you do.”

She swallowed the self-admonishments she’d give herself later when forgiveness was all she could ask for.

“Let’s just make this quick.”

“Quick? No, no. Listen, the info I have to give you… you can’t immediately act on it, anyway. It’ll be a few hours. Why don’t we spend that precious time together? The three of us?”

Monica glanced at the portrait of Paisley.

“No, not with her.”

Jackson spoke of his current partner as if she were a fly buzzing in his ear.

“With the other Warren you brought with you.”

The purse strap slipped from Monica’s finger and landed with a thud on the floor.

“No.”

Eva lunged backward, nearly tripping over the edge of the throw rug covering Jackson’s bedroom on the second floor.

“Absolutely not, you freak!”

He was unperturbed as he sat on the ottoman before his bed. Like most other aspects of this home, the bedroom had not changed much, either. Everything was still to his particular tastes, from the golden bed covers to the beaded white curtains currently drawn across the windows. Although Jackson was visibly older than when Monica last slept in this room, he still projected the same power that suggested he was now, and always, in control.

“Those are my terms,” he said.

Eva attempted to rush at him with smoke fuming from her nostrils, but Monica held out her arm, hitting her sister-in-law right in the abdomen. Eva halted with a twist of her ankle and a flail of her hands.

“This is what he wants,”

she mouthed at Eva, and she didn’t mean her ex’s terms. She meant Eva’s anger. Her disgust.

This was when Jackson Lyle got off on the situation, and Monica must tread carefully.

She knew that Eva would react this way, though. Wasn’t that why Jackson locked the three of them in his bedroom, with instructions to the staff to keep Paisley preoccupied. I wonder how many times he’s done this to her. Or did he make a special exception for the submissive who got away with a gun in her hand?

There were no firearms now. Only the wits that Monica possessed.

“You piece of shit,” Eva spat.

“You sure are being rude to the man who holds all the cards,”

Jackson said with a flick of his wrist.

“I could have you both escorted off this property, and you wouldn’t get such fresh information from me. Then where would you be?”

“I don’t make deals with men like you.”

“Something tells me that the big lesbian in the room doesn’t make deals with any man. But Monica?”

He gestured to her.

“She does.”

Monica moved her arm to Eva’s.

“It’s for Abigail,”

she pleaded with a lowered voice she hoped to God that Jackson couldn’t hear.

“You promised me, Eva. Whatever it took.”

“What he’s asking is fucking diabolical!”

“I just want to watch,”

he said.

“I have no desire to touch you, Evangeline. I know that would be the death of me, whether you meant it or not. And I don’t desire to die.”

“Eva.”

Monica turned her sister-in-law toward her, beseeching her undivided attention.

“Put it all out of your mind. It’s for Abigail.”

“Yeah, Evangeline. It’s for little Abigail.”

She shot Jackson a look telling him to shut the fuck up. It was more defiance than she ever showed him during their whole relationship.

“This man is a monster.”

Eva said that as if Monica didn’t personally know.

“He wants us to have sex for him!”

Finally, one of them said it, because even Monica had been trying not to think about it the whole walk up here. I was prepared for him to demand my body… And Monica had made peace with that if it was what it took. But to ask this of Eva as well…

For Eva was not a woman who could muster the courage to let any man dictate her sexual fate. Even if she wasn’t married.

All of this so Jackson can hurt us as much as possible. Monica should have seen this coming when she insisted on not coming alone. What was the most disgusting, undignified, and transgressive thing he could ask this pair of sisters-in-law to do? Hell, Monica would have been less shocked if she was asked to have sex with Paisley, who would probably be quite upset to hear of this arrangement as well.

But that was what Jackson did. Even when Monica was the queen of this domain, with every servant bowing to her whim, Jackson had his ways of keeping her beneath his shoes. Often, that included having sex with other women. With me. With him. Sometimes at the same time. What had been interesting and exploratory early on in their relationship quickly turned into a new way for him to abuse her body – and her trust.

Monica had been prepared. For her daughter, she would go against her marriage vows and hide it from her husband forever if it meant securing Abigail’s safety from a possible fate worse than death.

But that was when she thought it would just be her suffering and having to live with the consequences.

“I don’t ask for a lot of your time, ladies,”

Jackson said from his perch.

“I know how eager you are to be on your way. All I ask for is a little entertainment in exchange for my connection to the Beaumonts.”

“Absolutely. Unhinged.”

Eva resolutely crossed her arms with a grunt.

“Have you fantasized about this before?”

she asked Jackson.

“Because Monica and I have never looked at each other like that.”

Monica had to place another soothing hand on Eva. It’s what I do, anyway. Both Warren siblings could be impassioned if she didn’t step in quickly. But whereas Henry tended to keep his fury locked deeply within, Eva made it clear to everyone around her that she had been wronged and intended to make it right. Even if it hurt her chances more than if she had simply shut up.

“I’d think this would be easy for you, Evangeline. You’re a dominant type. Monica is still the most perfect submissive princess in the land, I’m sure. I’d think you’d be jumping at the chance to take some of that into your hands. You like women, don’t you?”

Was Monica offended by all of this? Of course. Was she still inclined to do it if it meant they got to Abigail sooner?

She was wary of answering that.

“I’ll give you a couple of minutes to think it over.”

Jackson got up, removing his jacket before tossing it on the bed.

“Remember! It’s for little Abigail.”

The way he growled the name of Monica’s daughter made her see red.

Whatever Eva was about to say was cut off the moment Jackson closed a door behind him and Monica slammed a hand on her sister-in-law’s chest. Eva stumbled over her words, breathless as she gazed down into Monica’s desperate demeanor.

“You must listen to me, Eva,”

Monica said in a hush.

“The only pleasure Jackson takes from this is knowing that it will stay with us forever. He doesn’t actually care about seeing me and you together unless he knows he can hold it over us for the rest of his life.”

“But…”

“For Abigail. You swore to me. You swore!”

Monica’s finger jammed so hard into Eva’s breastbone that she flinched.

“But, Nadia… but, Henry!”

“You can put any guilt or shame you feel into me. I can take it. You heard him.”

Monica lowered her hand, that red film covering her vision once more.

“I’m the best submissive princess in the land. You can hit anything into me!”

“Monica… you can’t be serious…”

Eva continued to attempt to talk her way out of this, but even Monica heard the reason slipping from her voice. They were trapped. Either they capitulated and carried this scar for the rest of their lives, or they let Abigail slip further away.

Monica knew which mattered more to her. I’m sorry, Eva. As tragic as it was to put this on her sister-in-law’s shoulders, Eva was merely a casualty caught in Monica’s friendly fire. I will do anything – anything – to find my daughter. Every minute they spent wasting arguing about it was another minute more that Isabella had Abigail’s fate in her hands. If what Monica considered was true… she might never see Abigail again. Not until she was twenty and married off to whatever Beaumont had the distinguished honor of calling her his God-given wife.

Over my dead body. Monica would drag her nudity over hot coals to prevent that from happening, never mind having a BDSM scene with her sister-in-law. For his amusement, no less.

“In the end, it means nothing to us,”

Monica said.

“To Abigail, it’s her whole life.”

Eva closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I can’t believe I’m considering this…”

Before Monica lost her nerve to summon Jackson to get this over with, something bright in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

It was a young and feminine face peeking through the bedroom door.

“Psst!”

Paisley pushed the door open more, gesturing for Monica and Eva to come closer. Like Monica had been well-trained in years past, Paisley knew better than to help herself into her own room when Jackson had “company.”

“You two want to know what was said on the phone?”

Monica rushed forward. Eva wasn’t too far behind.

“What do you know? How?”

Monica asked.

Paisley didn’t mince words.

“He only uses his landline in his offices. I was in the upstairs office listening in on his conversation. Let’s just say I had the foresight after recognizing you.”

“I see…”

“Your portrait is hanging in the upstairs office. Nice to see you’ve barely aged, huh?”

“Please, the point…”

Monica held back her real fear.

“Before Jackson comes back.”

Paisley heavily sighed.

“Thailand.”

“Thailand?”

Eva repeated.

“Isabella took the kid to Thailand after overnighting in Nice. It was all arranged by the Beaumonts. They have a holiday compound in Thailand. Look, that’s all I know. That’s all Jackson’s gonna tell you because that’s all he knows. So could you kindly get the hell out?”

“Where in Thailand?”

“I don’t know. You’ve gotta know someone who does, though. Because Thailand only has so many places a family like the Beaumonts will want to build a secret compound, right?”

“Have you met them before?”

“The Beaumonts? Sure. Jean-Pierre and his wife had been here a few times before. They’re… weird. Very weird.”

“That’s adding up nicely,”

Eva bemoaned.

“Look, Monica, we gotta get out of here before that freak comes back and asks us to kiss each other. Let’s go.”

Monica knew better than to take her chances here. The only handholding she was doing with Eva was to drag her out of the room and back downstairs as quickly as possible. Paisley likewise made herself scarce before Jackson figured out she was the one who ruined his life. She’s metaphorically dead, anyway. He would take it out on her. She must have known that.

Yet she still helped a desperate mother. Maybe it was to have control over Jackson for one night, but still, Paisley had helped.

This wasn’t Monica’s first time fleeing from this mansion, but she hoped to God it was the last. Just because she didn’t need a gun this time didn’t mean she didn’t wish to have protection. Even when they burst into the night and Eva’s car was still parked, clear as the day Monica craved would come soon, she still wasn’t convinced they were safe until the engine started and both doors were closed.

Had Eva ever driven so recklessly? Had she ever taken passenger safety into such little account, like when she slammed on the gas before Monica had the chance to secure her seatbelt?

They said nothing as the Jaguar tore down the driveway and eventually discovered the highway that would take them back to civilization. Monica’s heart raced faster than the wheels and her adrenaline was so spiked that she worried she’d pass out before she could check for her purse. Her phone was in it, and she had to make some emergency calls.

Eva wiped something off her face once they were going the speed limit on the highway.

“We never speak of this again.”

Monica also wiped something on her face. What was so hot and wet on her cheeks? Was it the tears that came once the adrenaline finally lowered and she realized how close to hell she had walked? And how she had almost dragged Eva down with her.

“Nobody knows what almost happened back there.”

Eva was quiet until she finally said.

“To our graves.”

At least they were on the same page about that.