Tested by Her Web Master (Web Master #2) (15 page)

“
Yes. She was right here. I was watching the men throw the fish, but now she’s not here.” The girl looked around frantically.

The men had stopped throwing the fish and were now focusing on the girl. “Is everything all right?” one of them asked.

“
She’s missing her mom, but I’m sure she’ll be back in a minute.”

The fish guys nodded. “Let us know if you don’t find her, and we can make an announcement.” Then they started to engage some customers several feet away.

“
Do you remember what your mommy was wearing?”

“
A blue sweater.”

Quentin and I scanned the crowd, but we didn’t see a woman wearing a blue sweater.

“
I should go look for her,” the child sniveled.

“
Maybe, but if you stay here I think she may come back looking for you.”

The child’s bottom lip began to quiver.

“
What’s your name?” I asked.

“
Dorinda.”

“
What a lovely name. Dorinda, where were you the last time you saw your mom? Was she watching the fish men, too?”

The child nodded, her light-brown curls bobbed around her head. She wore a pink headband that matched her pink coveralls. How fun it would be to dress a little girl like this one day.

Before I could ask her any more questions, a much older, darker version of Dorinda pushed through the crowd of people milling around, screaming, “There you are!”

The woman wore a black coat and blue sweater, and she scooped Dorinda into her arms and held her tight, peppering the child with kisses. “Where were you?” she asked, her tone morphing from relief to scolding.

“
Mommy! I was right here. Watching the men throw the fish.”

“
Didn’t you hear me say to come along?”

The little girl shook her head. “But I found this nice lady. You know how you always tell me if I get lost to find a mommy? I found this one and she was going to help me find you.”

The woman noticed Quentin and me for the first time. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you for looking out for her. Sometimes she doesn’t listen very well.”

“
It’s all right. Children are like that,” I said. Then as way of an explanation, “I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

The woman hugged Dorinda tight. “See, Dorinda? Next year you’ll have a teacher like this nice lady.” Then she turned her attention to me. “Thank you again. I don’t know what I’d do…” her voice trailed off as she thought of the unthinkable alternative to having found her daughter safe and sound.

I patted her arm. “It’s okay. She’s fine. It happens all the time. You two have a nice day. Bye, Dorinda.”

The little girl waved goodbye as her mother settled her onto her hip and went back to her shopping, her mouth forming the silent words “thank you” again before turning away and disappearing down the aisle.

In all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten about Quentin. It had been so chaotic for a moment there, and he’d remained quiet during the whole situation, letting me take care of things. It made sense. I was the kindergarten teacher, the one who dealt with young children and their frantic parents on a daily basis, but when I looked over at him he was frowning and I couldn’t determine why.

“
Would you like to go to that cafe over there and grab a bite? I’m suddenly feeling a need for some sustenance.” A storm seemed to have come over his countenance, and I hoped it would be a quick-passing one.

“
Sure. That sounds lovely,” I said, grabbing his hand again, hoping we could get back to that place we’d been before the incident with the lost child.

We found a table that was somewhat shielded from the wind, where we could still be outside and watch the people. We ordered coffee and a muffin for me, a bagel for him. Quentin seemed distracted, and after the waitress brought us our coffee and moved on to another table, I asked him about it. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and took a sip of his coffee. Then he ran a hand nervously through his dark mop of perfect hair, messing it up if only for a brief moment before it fell back into place perfectly.

“
You don’t seem like it.” I placed a hand on his. “You sure everything’s all right?”

He shrugged. “I guess. It can happen so quickly.” His eyes looked off into the distance, as if he were seeing something I wasn’t.

“
What can?”

“
Losing a child.”

“
That’s true. They are quick little boogers.” I laughed, but he didn’t laugh with me. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and tasted my coffee. Damn! It burned my tongue.

“
There’s something I probably should have told you.” I froze at his words, my mind zoomed round at over a thousand miles per hour, and dread gripped me. This couldn’t be a good thing.

“
What is it?” I croaked.

But before he could say anything, the waitress brought the food to our table and set it down in front of us. Quentin thanked her politely, while I remained frozen in time, willing him to speak.

The waitress left, and finally he did.

“
I had a child once,” he began.

“
A child?”

“
With my wife. We had a son. His name was Sam.” He dragged his eyes away from that far-off place and brought them to rest on mine. “He died.”

“
You lost him,” I whispered. Then I reached for his hand, but he pulled it back and folded his hands in his lap.

Stung, I sat silent, waiting for him to continue.

“
He was six. It was a boating accident. My fault.” He sniffed. “I’ll never forgive myself. But that’s what I was saying—it can all happen so fast. In the blink of an eye.”

“
But Quentin, you mustn’t blame yourself,” I said, wanting to reach him, to comfort him.

“
You don’t know what you’re talking about. I did it. I ran over him with the boat. Who else is there to blame?” he sneered.

Blood roared loud in my ears, and I was torn between sympathy and lashing out at him for being nasty. Sympathy won out. “Quentin, I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“
Of course you didn’t.” His voice was clipped, and I knew he was about to dismiss the whole conversation. But I had more questions.

“
Is that why your wife and you split up?”

“
Probably. She couldn’t forgive me for killing our son, nor could I.”

That made sense. I knew that the divorce rate skyrocketed when a couple lost a child. I learned all about what that could do to a marriage by observing the parents of my student whose sister died of leukemia. Watching them deal with the tragedy had been awful. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go through it myself. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming. I couldn’t even fathom how you would feel if you thought your child’s death was your fault. My heart bled for him. The man who seemed to have it all—looks, confidence that could fill a stadium, talent. But now I understood him.

Quentin had everything except peace.

“
Oh darling, I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”

His steely exterior returned. “Yes, thank you, Sophie. It was tragic. The worst time in my life, but I’ve put it behind me. There’s no use wallowing in it. One must move forward. I apologize for bringing it up. We can’t let the past spoil our day.” He took a deep breath, attempted a half smile, and I knew the subject was closed for now.

We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence, and I’d already made a plan to Google that boating accident when I got home. Just because he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t mean I didn’t intend to find out more. I considered being angry that he hadn’t told me about his son before, but clearly he kept that information tucked deep down inside, and instead I felt honored that he’d been able to share it with me, however briefly. More would come in time. I’d learned that as difficult as it was to be patient with Quentin, he usually rewarded me for it.

The rest of the weekend our sessions had an emotional intensity they’d never had before. It felt like him telling me about his son opened something inside him, and I felt the connection between us strengthen. As for me, I began to view Quentin as a man with secrets and flaws—multidimensional—as opposed to the perfect, always in control Dom whom I was acquainted with.

That he’d shown me his vulnerable side touched my heart and intensified my feelings for him. Since he wouldn’t allow me to comfort him, didn’t want to cry in my arms, I gave him my love the only way I knew how—with my submission.

Each lash of the whip, each slap of his palm, each obedient act was my way of helping heal him.

I offered myself to him completely, and he swallowed up everything I gave him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

As much as I liked my kinky, adventurous sex life, I had to admit I was starting to want more. Maybe I would talk with Quentin about it during out trip to California for the Academy Awards. If I was honest with myself, I’d like a little of what Shelby had with Bryan. A man who adored me to come home to, not just to see once or twice a month when his schedule permitted.

I’d always heard long-distance relationships were hell, but in the beginning I believed Quentin and I could make it work. We were “different.” But now I wasn’t so sure.

We’d been together for months, but he was still secretive, aloof, even distant. And while he gave lip service to the idea of us moving in together at some point, I was starting to believe that this arrangement was exactly what he wanted. Him residing in Washington, while I resided in Texas—it was the perfect arrangement for a man who wanted a lot of space.

Things weren’t all that different from when all he could give was an online relationship. Hell, I’d had to go through a lot to get him to even meet me in real life in the first place.

The part of me that loved him, that sad little part where hope lived, reminded me that Quentin wasn’t just difficult or an asshole. No. He was damaged. He’d had his heart broken. Not only when he’d lost his wife, but he’d lost his son. And he blamed himself for the entire situation.

But I worried about how long it had taken for him to come clean and tell me about even having a son. When I arrived home after he told me about the accident, I Googled it. The only thing I found was the obituary, which alluded to an accident. There was nothing else. He said he’d run over the child, that it had been his fault. But surely he’d been exaggerating. If he wasn’t…that was something no one should have to live with. And it did explain why he was so closed off. I couldn’t imagine being responsible for the death of a loved one, especially a child. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. The whole story was terribly tragic, and it made me think that maybe it wasn’t the right time to complain to Quentin, to ask for more from him.

But if not now, when? Was I going to be worried about upsetting him forever?

Plus, I didn’t know how to help him. If he was locked in a cage of his own pain, I didn’t know what could I do to help him break free and let him love and be loved.

A happy ending with Quentin was not going to come easy. It would take time and patience. Two things I was running low on.

And then there was BA. He’d alluded to having a rough history with women as well, yet he didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups. For him, life went on. He moved forward, embraced life. The communication between me and him was light. Fun.

I blushed to myself. But he wasn’t in a relationship with me. Not really, even though it felt that way sometimes.

Part of me wanted to tell both Quentin and BA that I wished to cease being a submissive for BA. Another part of me fantasized about them both dominating me together in real life. That desire had recently come to the forefront of my mind. I thought BA would be game, but for some reason I doubted Quentin would like the idea.

One thing I knew was that things couldn’t keep going on the way they had been. Something was going to have to change.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Celebrities had never been a big deal in my eyes. I knew some larger-than-life people—Shelby for example—and I realized that as big as some people seemed, they were just people. But as Quentin and I stood in line for the red carpet to attend the Academy Awards and everywhere you turned there was someone else you grew up recognizing from the big or little screen, I have to admit it made me a little giddy.

We went down the red carpet early, before most of the press and the “important” celebrities got there. As we waited our turn to parade in front of the cameras, Quentin laid his hand possessively on the small of my back, and I almost melted right there onto the famed carpet.

“
You’re more beautiful than every other woman here,” he whispered into my ear as he drew me close to him for a picture. I could feel the telltale nudge of his arousal against my buttocks and I grew weak in the knees. God, he knew how to make me want him.

Of course, Quentin looked incredible as usual in a designer tux that was the darkest of navy blue. No, the designer didn’t send it over for him. He said that was just for the famous people, but the people from
Winged
did get him a stylist who picked it out and got him fitted properly.