Page 9 of Mastered by Them (Rose and Dagger #2)

Troy

“D id you choke her?” I glare at Edmund. We’ve both done breath play with women before, but always with a ton of talking beforehand. You don’t fuck around with breath play. People can die. Besides, after Dani’s last panic attack, I’m guessing her neck is a trigger.

“No. Fuck. I barely touched her neck.”

“Never touch her neck again. Either of us.”

“You don’t have to tell me that—I think I’ve figured it out—you know what? No arguing.” He pulls her against him, tight like I’d done the first time she had a panic attack. “Angel. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Deep breaths. Listen to my breathing, try to match it.”

Edmund slowly eases down so they’re sitting on the office floor. He keeps Dani cradled in his arms, holding her tight. I squat down next to them, wishing I could do more. I’ll tear apart any physical threat to our girl.

But there’s nothing I can do to the monsters in her head.

Eventually, Danica’s breathing evens out, matching ours. Her body relaxes. We remain in silence for a couple of minutes.

She tries to pull away, but Edmund doesn’t want to let her go. He says, “Wait with me a minute.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She sucks in another breath. “Just embarrassed. Seriously, let me go.”

He relinquishes his hold. I pull out Shoshanna’s desk chair, and Dani takes a seat. She touches her neck, frowning. “I probably owe you some kind of explanation.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” Edmund says at the same time I say, “You don’t owe us shit.”

She smiles. “Well, you’ll think I’m nuts if I don’t tell you.”

I shake my head, and so does Edmund.

Clearing his throat, Edmund says, “Even if you were nuts, it isn’t a problem. But I think you just panicked, and if you want to talk about it, great. We’ll listen. If not, we can wait until you’re ready.”

“I’ll talk about it now, because it’s not that big of a deal.” She gives a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “I had a nightmare the other night. It’s fucking Elias’s fault.”

“Elias?” Edmund frowns. “Do you want us to kill him?”

She looks at Edmund with shock.

“It was a joke .” Edmund chuckles.

“I don’t think gangsters can joke about killing people.

” She purses her lips. “But anyway, no, he just showed me news footage about a body found near Danish Lake a couple of days ago. My stupid brain must have taken that and gone to town with it. I had the nightmare, and then it all came back tonight when you touched my neck.”

“No neck touching,” I say. “Ever.”

“I got it, fuck .” Edmund shoots me a glare.

“Let’s not worry about it,” she says. “It’s just the one time.”

But it wasn’t just the one time. She panicked by our pool a few weeks ago—and that was before Elias showed her any news footage. I wonder what else could be going on with her.

I wonder how we can protect her from it.

* * *

Danica

“How are you feeling?” Troy asks when I hop into his truck two days after Salt. The leather seat is warm, heated by the sun. It feels good against my thighs.

“Eh. A little better.”

“No nightmares?” He pulls away from the curb and takes us toward Dorado Heights. I have an appointment at a bridal shop. Nothing better than skipping work on a Monday to try on wedding gowns for an arranged marriage.

“No nightmares.” Other than the arranged marriage. But I can’t seem to wake up from this particular nightmare.

I went home early on Saturday night. I was too embarrassed after my panic attack to hook up with the guys. We revisited the main floor of Salt and watched the dancers and other kinky people do their thing. But I really wasn’t feeling it.

What I did feel was Edmund’s absolute acceptance of whatever I needed. I never expected to feel that much support from him, that much care. Maybe I’ve been underestimating him.

Maybe this stupid engagement could work.

Dangerous thoughts.

We pull up to the bridal shop and go inside. White gowns. So many white gowns. Puffy, sequined, embroidered, layered, shiny. It’s dazzling.

A blond woman in a sleek pantsuit approaches us. “Hi, I’m Cherry! Do you have an appointment with us today?”

“I’m Danica Montrose.” I shake her hand. “I have a ten o’clock appointment. This is Troy.”

She looks from me to Troy, then back again. “Is this your entire party, or are you waiting for others?”

“This is everybody.” I didn’t invite my mom.

I thought about it, but I don’t like how quickly she took Granddad’s side with the engagement.

And Leah was supposed to come, but one of her students needed her.

If this were a real wedding and I cared about any of it, I’d have rescheduled so Leah could be here.

But as it is, none of this matters. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Troy, hired to guard me, will be enough.

“All right, then, I’ll be helping you find your dream gown today.” Cherry gestures that we should follow her. “We have a room set up for you. Here’s a place for your fiancé to sit while you try on gowns.”

Neither Troy nor I correct her on her assumption that he’s my fiancé. I wonder what that says about us, if anything.

The room is fairly private and intimate. It lacks a door, but the dressing room itself has a door wide enough for a giant hoop skirt. Chatter from other brides and their parties reaches my ears, but it’s faint.

A low, circular dais rests in front of a semi-circle of mirrors. When standing there, I’ll be able to see myself from every angle.

Cherry points to two long racks of dresses parked near the dais.

“I recommend trying on a gown in each style, even if you think you don’t like it.

It’s shocking how often a bride’s feelings change when she’s actively wearing a gown.

Once we narrow down some styles, I’ll bring in several different choices for each style.

I hope you had an energy-rich breakfast, because this will be a workout. ”

Great. I exchange a look with Troy and see him quietly smiling.

Cherry helps me into gown after gown after gown. I know they’re different, but they all feel the same to me. Over-the-top symbols of happiness, loyalty, commitment. This feels so incredibly fake.

After Cherry puts me into the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen in my life, we go out to the dais where I’m supposed to twirl and show off.

“There, isn’t this a grand one?” Cherry tuts. “Fit for a princess.”

This isn’t a grand dress. I don’t like any of these, they don’t feel right. I widen my eyes at Troy.

He frowns. “Can you give us a few minutes, Cherry?”

“Of course,” she trills. “I’ll be back with some more gowns. I think we’re really narrowing things down.”

But even I can see the panic on her face. I haven’t been enthusiastic about a single dress.

With an impassive face, Troy watches her leave. He turns back to me. “Dani. Talk to me.”

“Well, obviously this one isn’t my style.” I pluck at the skirt, which looks more like a three-year-old’s idealized drawing of a dress.

He strides forward to stand close to the dais. I step toward the ledge. The level of the dais still doesn’t put me anywhere near his height. I still have to look up to see his face.

He touches my cheek. “You know what I’m asking. Tell me what you’re feeling right now. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I stare into his dark eyes. His strong jaw looks utterly touchable, scratchy with stubble. I want to smooth the permanent scowl lines between his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper.

“I’m falling apart, I’m a mess. The Danica of three months ago wouldn’t have entertained the idea of an arranged marriage.

Probably not even to save my family. I would’ve run and flipped everyone off while I was at it.

But Granddad had a heart attack, I nearly lost my best friend, Patrick died, the Vorsongs stalked my teen cousin…

am I forgetting anything? Oh yeah, my inconvenient panic attacks. ”

Concern flares in his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to ask about those, but you don’t have to answer.”

My guard goes up, but I nod. He didn’t believe my lie about Elias’s murder video any more than I believed it. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“Do you have a condition or something? Like, do you have meds I could get for you next time, or is there something specific I should do, anyone I should call?”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” I square my shoulders. “The panic attacks are new. There’s no diagnosis. They’re probably happening because of all the other shit piling up in the trash fire of my life. I just wish I had some control.”

“One decision. One crisis at a time.” His voice is gruff as his fathomless eyes drink me in. “You’re doing everything you can, Dani, and you’re kicking ass. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Even when I can’t breathe, even when my heart feels like it’s escaping my chest?”

He places his hand above the low neckline of the gown, covering my heart. His palm is hot against my bare skin. “Even then.”

I want him to touch more of me, all of me. “Troy…”

He dips his face toward mine, his lips so close I can feel their warmth.

“Here we are with a few more gowns I think you’ll like—oh!” Cherry exclaims. “So sorry, I can come back.”

But the moment, the almost-kiss, is ruined.