Sine Qua Non

Chapter Fourteen

In twenty-seven years, only three things had ever managed to score him beneath his armor: crying in the mall over his dead mother’s perfume, Jay’s rejection the first time he told her he was in love with her, and his father fucking laughing in his face when he’d announced his intention to propose to her.

The two former humiliations had faded to a faint sting over time, but in the face of his now very real and upcoming marriage, the latter loomed as large as a ghost. His father’s voice, so close to his own in terms of pitch and timbre, now echoed abrasively in his ears.

(How did you get her to do it?)

His hand tightened around his mug of coffee.

“Stacey is our strongest candidate so far,”

Arthur was saying. “Apart from Jun in marketing.”

Nicholas nodded, but he did not want to think about Stacey and Jun.

(I know you’ve been doing a little backyard breeding under my roof. What do you have on your sister, Nicholas? Receipts? Photographs? Or perhaps a tape?)

“Not Stacey,”

he said, shifting restlessly. “Any power you give her, she’ll run with.”

“Because she’s a senior level employee. You have to give people some room to grow, Nicholas. Otherwise, it’s hard to retain talent. It’s grow or go, in this industry. You know that.”

An image popped into his head, sharp and salient, of a teary-eyed Jay lying in a bed of cast-off silk, begging him to let her go. He made a harsh noise in the back of his throat.

“No.”

Arthur pushed his computer aside, rubbing at his graying temples. He’d been interviewing candidates for several hours and it must have been exhausting but he didn’t care. Everyone had a reason for why they deserved better, but only one person here had been forced to suffer for it.

“What about Jun then? His managing style is a little less abrasive. And he has a coordinator role, so he’d be ideal at running those meetings.”

(Is that it? Did you film yourself fucking her? Did you make her cry?

Do you really think she’ll love you now?)

“No,”

Nicholas said again. He stood up and began to pace. “Not Jun.”

Arthur let out a rough breath. “We have to agree on somebody .”

“How did Jay’s interview go?”

he asked abruptly.

The lines on Arthur’s face seemed to sag; it was as if invisible strings holding his face in that usual good-natured state had all been cut. He’s been waiting for this , Nicholas thought, watching him through narrowed eyes. He knew I’d ask and he doesn’t like it.

“She’s a very bright and talented young woman who doesn’t have much experience. And if we were to give her the role, it would be hard to create a story that doesn’t smack of nepotism.”

(Give me the evidence and I’ll clean up your mistakes)

Nicholas shook his head. “I can’t. But you can. It’s your job to create the stories, Hartwell. I’ve wiped my hands clean of it.”

“Have you?”

Arthur asked mildly. “Then why are we even having this conversation?”

Nicholas turned towards the tinted glass windows that looked out at the people buzzing like ants below the mezzanine. All of them were under his employe, which ostensibly meant that they had to do what he ordered them to. But he had been letting the system run on its own momentum for so long that he had never really put that to the test.

Five years ago, they had called him a wunderkind. He’d found the idea of that a little insulting, even though the attention had brought in cash flow and fresh talent, and youth had allowed him to cruelly surprise some would-be opportunists. Little games of loyalty had been more his father’s domain, because unlike his father, he didn’t need their fear or admiration.

As Nicholas looked down at those unsuspecting white-collar hipsters, with their Uniqlo button-downs and Lodis bags, he felt a wave of scorn. They look entirely too comfortable.

It made him understand for the first time why his father might have indulged in the games he had. Nobody was calling him anything except for favors, and now here he was, being told no .

“I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as she does, and get so little back for it.”

He folded his arms behind his back as he spun away from the window. “I don’t want that to happen to her here.”

“Jay is an incredible woman,”

Arthur agreed. “But she does lack experience.”

“Pick whoever you think best then.”

He gave a sardonic, insincere smile. “I know you’ll make the right call. That’s why I promoted you .”

It sounded like a threat even to his own ears. Perhaps it was.

Served Hartwell right.

His CFO’s disapproval followed him all the way back to his desk. What did he expect, though? When he’d casually announced his engagement to Jay the other day, the first thing that man said after he’d recollected himself was, “Congratulations. You’re a lucky man. Have you notified HR?”

Always by the book , he thought. Which was what Jay wanted.

But no matter how properly they conducted themselves, some people would insist that this went beyond decorum. They hadn’t lived those nine empty, soulless years—but he had. Every day, for over three thousand days, he had endured the chafe of his own sharp edges until he felt like he might bleed out from the continual abrasion of his own wicked soul.

It wasn’t just that Jay made him happy when he was around her. She made him feel at home in his own skin.

On the ride home she kept glancing over at him worriedly. She had her legs crossed in that fitted black skirt, making it ride up high enough to make it clear that she was wearing tights instead of stockings, and the flashes of skin beneath her white eyelet blouse were giving him ideas.

“Are you okay?”

she asked hesitantly, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

“I’m fine,”

he said gruffly, and then paused. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Do you want to hear about my interview?”

He lowered the volume dial. “I thought that was a conflict of interest.”

“Well.”

She gave him a wry look. “You’ll just ask Arthur, anyway, right?”

Her tone was light but thinking about Arthur made his mood darken further. But when her smile dimmed, he managed, with effort, to shove some of that irritation away.

“Tell me about your interview, blue jay.”

Nicholas let his mind drift as she described the questions she’d been asked and how she’d responded. He already knew all of that anyway, since he and Arthur had been discussing candidates, but the sound of her voice soothed him, and her cautious optimism was endearing.

Fuck Hartwell , he thought, looking at the hopeful smile on her face.

Soon Jay would be his wife. After the interviews, which he needed to go well. Then she would be his. He watched her so intently at dinner trying to see her through that lens that he could tell it made her nervous from the way she began to falter.

“Nick?”

“Your glass is almost empty.”

He picked up the bottle. “Do you want more wine?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

she scolded, half-seriously.

“No.”

He only filled her glass halfway, mentally calculating how long it would take her to sober up. “I just like seeing you enjoy yourself.”

“You do have very good taste in wine.”

She took a slow sip.

She fucks like that, too , he thought, watching her close her eyes to savor a bite of pasta after the swallow of vintage, and he’d had to drown that thought in wine before it could grow teeth and bite.

It was so laughably fucking civil the way they played house between bites of vegan carbonara and tofu pancetta. Passing dishes like he’d never put that same hand around her throat. It was a civility you could crack like ice and fall into, unless you skated around the tension with wine and soft words. They both hid their true faces in public, just like they’d been taught.

Sex was the most honest thing they had between them.

Jay went to her room after dinner but he went to his office, now located in his childhood bedroom, and tried to work. His mind refused to cooperate, however; his thoughts remained firmly upstairs, no matter how many times he tried to refocus them.

He got up from his desk and shut his laptop decisively. There were still emails to respond to, but he was done. And she’s had several hours to get that wine out of her system. Using his phone as a flashlight, he made his way through the darkened halls, up the righthand staircase. But instead of taking a hard left, he went right and down the hall.

A path he’d taken dozens of times before, always cloaked in shadow.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, holding it just wide enough to let himself inside before snicking it shut behind him. Jay had her hoodie pulled over her face and her cat was sleeping on her stomach. When it saw him, its ears pricked and it scampered under the bed.

Nicholas got on top of her, savoring the way the softness of her body yielded so easily to his weight, and shifted the phone to his free hand as he pushed the hood back from her sleeping face.

“My god, you’re pretty.”

He brushed a few curly locks from her forehead, drawing his fingers down her cheek, her parted lips. And she’s all mine. With a rough sigh, he yanked the zipper of her sweatshirt down and kissed her breast through the thin camisole. “Come to Daddy, sweet bird.”

A harsh breath escaped her as he ran his hand over her torso, tracing every dip and swell.

“Open your eyes.”

He plucked at the thin strap of her top. “I want to make you feel good.”

She stirred, her eyes fluttering open—and then she let out a startled scream, flinching back against the bed as she clawed at him in a panic.

Fuck . “No, no, no,”

he crooned, reaching for her now-flailing wrists. “Relax, blue jay. It’s just me. Don’t be afraid. It’s me. It’s Nick. Just Nick.”

(You didn’t think she’d be having nightmares, did you, boy?

I bet she dreams of you)

Her body went limp beneath his—surrender, but not the kind he wanted. “N-Nick?”

The whites of her eyes were overly large in the dark, even as her heaving breaths began to slow. She twisted experimentally in his grip and he relaxed his fingers. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He bent to kiss her and felt her mouth soften beneath his. So soft, like crushing velvet. Groaning, he slid his hand into her sleep-tangled hair. “Kiss me back.”

Jay turned her head to the side, much to his frustration. “You’ve been acting strange all day. First, you wouldn’t stop staring at me at dinner. And now—”

She realized her sweatshirt was open and covered herself, even though she was wearing a camisole beneath it. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t want to fight right now.”

The words brushed against her mouth. “Just fuck me.”

Jay growled at him and pushed at his chest, which made him pin her wrists down again. “I’m being serious,”

she hissed. “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.”

“Well, if you’re serious ,”

he whispered hotly, “turn the light fucking light on and I’ll stop.” He freed her right hand, leaning back to look at her face. “You have long arms. I know you can reach the lamp, if you really want to.” He laced his fingers through the ones on her trapped hand. “But I think you just want to be fucked.”

She shoved at him again, deliberately, and he pushed down with his hips, grinding her into the mattress. Jay made a noise that made him laugh and knot his fingers through her hair.

“Oh, so you want it like that from Daddy?”

Arousal pounded through him like a second heartbeat as she tried to wait him out. But her breathing betrayed her—it always did—and he could feel her heart pounding against his chest even as she tried unsuccessfully to break his hold on her wrists.

“I asked you a question, Jay. Do you want to be a good girl for me? Or do you want to fight me while I take what I want?”

The silence stretched. She tried to squirm again. The hard tips of her breasts dragged across his chest, which almost broke his control.

“Jay,”

he said, once, warningly.

He heard her throat click when she swallowed. “I—I don’t want to be good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He rolled off her hips reluctantly. “Get out of bed.”

“W-what?”

“Out. Of. Bed. Now .”

“What are you going to do?”

“ You ,”

he said with emphasis, “are going to run.”

“Run where?”

She sounded so horrified, he would have been amused if he weren’t so fucking hard. “Outside?”

“Wherever you think you can get to in ten seconds before I drag you to the ground and have my way with you.”

“What?”

Her voice sounded thin. “Are you serious?”

“Nine seconds. And if you make me fuck you in this bed, Daddy is going to be extra mean.”

Jay jerked, swaying as if hypnotized, and then scrambled to her feet, stumbling a little in her haste. Her pajama bottoms were just a little too long, and it occurred to Nicholas, as he watched her hitch them up to her waist, that they might have been his.

She slammed the door behind her. He could hear her stumbling down the stairs, loud enough to wake the dog, who howled unhappily from the master bedroom. A door downstairs opened—not the front door, but the one that branched off from the sitting room that led out to the pool.

You want me to fuck you outside, Jay? He pushed off from the bed. You really are a bad girl.

After carefully shutting her door behind him, he headed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He didn’t bother being quiet—he wanted her to hear him. In her haste to escape out the door, she had closed it but hadn’t bothered to latch it, and he shoved it all the way open, letting it slam against the side of the house with a loud bang, before swinging it violently closed.

There was no way she hadn’t heard that, no matter how hard her heart was pounding.

(It comes alive in the dark just like you)

He breathed in lungfuls of jasmine-scented air as he scanned the garden for Jay. He figured she would play hard-to-get, forcing him to drag her out of the shadows, and was surprised to see her in the pool when he stepped out on the deck, still fully clothed.

Out in plain sight. Just waiting to be snatched up.

With a dark smile, he kicked off his pants and grabbed a small stone from one of the garden beds, casually lobbing it into the water at the deep end of the pool.

Jay yelped, and covered her own mouth, swinging her whole head in that direction while he hoisted himself into the shallows with the quietest splash.

“N-Nick?”

she said, drifting towards the ladder—closer to him. She sounded puzzled, and a little worried. “Nick, was that you? Are you oka— aah !”

“Got you.”

She bucked in response, clawing at the arm that he’d looped around her waist. Her camisole rode up as he fought to maintain his grip, pushing aside the damp ropes of her hair and letting her feel the press of his teeth against her skin. “I thought I said no clothes in the pool.”

“You tricked me,”

she seethed.

“I always trick you. You let it happen so often, I have to figure it’s on purpose.”

Jay elbowed him in the ribs and he swung her up in his arms. Water poured off her body in sheets as he walked through the shallow end and up the tiled steps, heading not for the house but one of the plastic loungers where his stepmother had used to drink and ogle the pool boy.

He set Jay down on one, ass-first, throwing out a hand to cushion her skull when her neck snapped back. “Put your hands over your head. I want both your wrists.”

“It’s cold,”

Jay chattered, as if the water hadn’t rendered her top completely sheer and he couldn’t see this for himself. “C-can’t we go inside if we’re going to f-fuck?”

“You should have thought of that before you jumped into my pool with your clothes on.”

The lounger creaked dangerously as he joined her on it. This was far more precarious than fucking on the love seat in her living room and he found himself wondering if the plastic and rubber might snap beneath their combined weight.

Jay gripped the sides of the chair, head tilting back to watch him with wide eyes as he tugged at a lock of her wet hair, twisting the curl around his finger until her face was tugged towards his.

“You’re not afraid to take Daddy’s punishment, are you?”

*****

Here in the darkness, cloaked in their own private world of darkness, it was almost possible to forget everything but him and the electric impulses flashing beneath her skin as he touched her like a man possessed. God, he was terrifying—like a pagan god, wild as wine.

She envied the girl she had been. The girl who had been able to resist him.

Now she could not imagine him from her life any more than she could imagine herself dead.

Punish me , she thought, leaning into that rough, claiming kiss. I deserve it.

She must have spoken the words aloud because his fingers bit into her skin. Then he was yanking her pants off. It was difficult—the fabric was clingy and wet, and he had to roll them off her legs slowly once he got past the backs of her knees, which he did.

It made her nervous, him being on his knees so close to her thighs, but he was still holding her pants, pulling them taut with a wet snap that made her flinch before rolling them out longwise. Restraints , she realized, when he hauled her hands over her head and tied her loosely to the chair. Wet pants were not nearly as effective as his leather handcuffs and she could have easily wriggled away if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t. She let him tie her to the chair.

She watched the flex of muscle in his arms as he worked, the efficiency of the act making her wonder, for the first time, how many other women he had tied up. She could feel him breathing, warm puffs of air against her chilled throat, and was surprised by the sharp stab of jealousy that she felt. Her fingers spasmed when he bent to kiss her palm, the impulse traveling down her veins like liquid gold burning up her blood, and she thought: I want him.

“W-what would you have d-done to me if I d-didn’t r-run?”

“Exactly what I’m going to do to you now.”

The cold rushed in as her breath rushed out. She leaned towards him, but he pushed her back down with a shake of his head. Filled with something far too fluttery to be dread, Jay watched him stride to his discarded pants at the other end of the pool and pick something up. The patio lights bathed him in milky light, throwing skin and muscle into bas-relief. Water matted the hair on his chest and trailed over the grooves of his belly in quicksilver streaks, before dripping lower.

Jay nearly choked on the dryness of her own throat.

Nicholas tore open the condom and sheathed himself before swinging himself over her prone body. He didn’t enter her right away, though. He ran a hand over her body, in a single possessive stroke, before gripping her hips, just over the hard girdle of bone. She thought his hands might be shaking. “Look at you,”

he rasped, almost involuntarily.

And then he fucked into her on a sharp, shallow thrust that made her cry out in surprise as he slid along her inner walls. The stretch of it almost hurt, especially with the cold making her body so stiff, but his skin was hot and the ache was familiar; it went all the way down to her heart.

As he sank deeper, he braced his hand on her ribs, keeping her flat. The other slid between her legs, shockingly warm. “How long were you in the pool?”

“I—”

He watched her face as he touched her clit. The porch lights didn’t reach this far and half of him was in shadow. As soon as her breathing picked up, he took his hand away despite her protest. “W-wait! I’m sorry—I d-don’t know! I’m sorry .”

“Only good girls get to come, little bird. Sorry girls lie there and take it.”

The chair creaked dangerously as he lifted her up by the backs of her thighs, forcing her to wrap her legs around his slim hips for purchase as he drove into her at a steeper angle. The pressure was exquisite now; she could feel the gouge of his pelvis with each stroke, the impact jolting her back against the slats as the metal shrieked under their combined weight. “And slutty girls just get fucked until Daddy’s had enough.”

“Aaah.”

He was being forceful enough that she could feel her ass sinking through the gaps in the slats. They were really testing the limits of the chair now, Jay thought. His knees were nearly touching the ground and one of his hands was actually braced against the rough concrete.

He didn’t seem to care, though. It was like he had something to prove. From the very moment that she had woken up to find him in her room, she had sensed his frenetic energy. Something wild had driven him to her, and now he was releasing his passions the only way he knew how.

Maybe I have something to prove, too , she thought, tilting her hips to meet him, even as she struggled to hold onto the slippery metal rails that were slick from pool water.

“Fucking me back isn’t going to change my mind.”

“I don’t care,”

she gasped.

The wind blew an errant lock of hair into her face. At this angle, she had a full view of his vast backyard, though most of it was upside-down. She loved the sweeping rows of his mother’s roses, which were cast in thick bars of darkness from the wall of cypress that blocked the scaled-off side of the property from the eyes of the street below. Jay had always thought that its mock Greek Revival fa?ade had the appearance of a palace fortress.

She gasped out on another sobbing exhale as his hand slid up to her face. “Nick—”

He brushed the lock of hair out of her eyes, dragging his knuckles tenderly down her jaw before collaring her throat with his hand and tightening his fingers just enough that she felt exquisitely lightheaded. Her muscles spasmed and he gave her a particularly rough thrust that had her gasping.

“Don’t you dare fucking come.”

“Please—”

So many small humiliations lay scattered between them, spangled like a constellation of hurts in a black velvet sky where she was caught in his orbit, unable to escape.

He punished her for making him want her, and she punished him for making her need him.

For making her crave this.

“ Please ,”

she repeated.

“You’re mine,”

he said, his voice a textured snarl in her ear, and she shivered so violently that the chill seemed to ripple through every cell in her body, turning her very nerves to ice.

When he came, she felt the harsh echo of her own denied pleasure in each of those last staggered thrusts. His still-damp hair was drying with a slight curl to it, throwing his eyes into shadow as he stared down searchingly into her face the same way he had at dinner.

What is he looking for?

She shivered again. That icy feeling of pins and needles was edging into pain. “Nick. I’m c-cold.”

He swung off her body, heading for his pants. Jay looked away from the sight of his buttocks and tugged free of her restraints with a few hard pulls, trying to force back the bitter feeling building in the back of her throat like hot acid. As she looked around desperately, wondering where her sweatshirt had disappeared to, a hand clasped her shoulder.

Nicholas was holding up a towel.

She peeled off her damp top and let him blot her dry, the briskness of the gestures making her suck in. “Does that hurt?”

“N-no,”

she said shakily. “Just sensitive.”

Apparently deeming her dry enough, he handed her the towel, watching her wrap herself in it.

“What?”

she asked cautiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m imagining what it will be like when you’re here.”

Jay blinked, a startled laugh escaping her. “What are you talking about? I am here.”

“When you’re my wife.”

He gave her that same intense look from before. “When you’re mine and you finally let yourself belong here.”

All the moisture fled her mouth.

“I can’t remember what my life was like before you came here. You’re studded into my soul like little pieces of glass. I can feel you all over this house, and when you’re not here, it’s like being lost in that fucking mall all over again, chasing the scent of my mother’s perfume.”

He broke off, as if he hadn’t meant to say that much all at once.

(it’s such good sex)

“I said yes,”

she reminded him, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

“You can’t fuck me like this and then leave me again. You can’t make me feel—”

He reached out suddenly, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close. She could feel his strong fingers biting in, even through the thick terrycloth. “Don’t leave me again.”

It felt like he’d reached into her chest and squeezed. “Oh my god, Nicholas, what’s gotten into you? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You always run,”

he said. “And I can’t fucking exist without you. I don’t know how.”

The devastation she saw on his face caught her raw. “I’m not going anywhere,”

she repeated, very alarmed now. She leaned into him until he opened his arms and gave her one of those awkward embraces that broke her heart every time. “Except m-maybe inside,” she said in a muffled voice.

“Yeah, you’re freezing.”

He sighed against her temple, his hand running over her arm. “Let’s get you in the house.”

The warmth of the house hit her like a wall. Nicholas picked up a red Stanford sweater from one of the backs of those sunroom chairs and pulled it over her head. She let the towel drop to the floor as the fleecy fabric swung down to her lower thighs, curiously indulgent against her bare skin.

“Red looks good on you.”

“So you’ve said,”

she replied warily.

“It’s still true.”

He headed for the bar, reaching up to grab two glasses. “Do you want a drink before we go to bed? It might warm you up.”

“No,”

she said. “And I don’t think you should, either.”

Nicholas smirked at her before pouring himself a shot of rum. “Always taking care of me.”

Still holding his glass, he strode closer, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And all I want to do,” he finished, letting his hand trail down those white letters, “is take care of you.”

“I love you,”

she said quietly, the admission ripping something violently away from her. “But I’m a grown woman, Nicholas. I’ve been taking care of myself for thirty-one years. That won’t change when I’m your wife. You can’t bully me into letting you control me.”

Careful, Jay. You know what happens when you want it too much.

“No,”

he agreed. “But sometimes—you could hand the reins over to me.”

Jay thought of all the times she’d dragged herself to his room, burning with humiliation and the expectation of being destroyed. Even as his touch woke parts of her that she’d never been able to reach, she had always been braced for a level of suffering and revenge that never came.

“The reins?”

she repeated faintly.

“Just for a while.”

He tilted her chin up gently. “You must be exhausted. You could be my little bird out of bed, too. Let Daddy make some of the decisions. Let me dress you up and show you off and spoil you—I don’t think you realize what that would do for me. Or how much that would turn me on.”

Panic was bubbling through her in earnest now. She was scared of how much she wanted what he was offering—safety, security, and the knowledge that she would never be alone again. All her life, she had been so scared that she would be left if she didn’t leave first.

“Jay, you’re shaking. Why does it scare you to rely on me?”

“I’m afraid my freedom will be taken away,”

she blurted.

“I won’t do that to you.”

He stroked her and the touch was so gentle that she flinched as if struck. “You let me tie you up, blue jay. Don’t you trust me to take care of you properly?”

Jay looked at his hand on hers. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a diving board and her feet were bolted to its surface. “Yes,”

she said falteringly.

“But?”

“You could hurt me,”

she whispered.

Nicholas said nothing, but she saw a line form on his forehead.

She swallowed, wondering if she should say what she was about to say given his irascible temper. “My last relationship was very comfortable. He—he never really asked anything of me. Even though we were a couple, we were still separate people.”

“You dated someone who bored you so you wouldn’t be invested in the relationship.”

Jay looked at him sharply. “No, we just didn’t really discuss things like this. He didn’t care what I wore. He didn’t want control. We just went about our lives and um, did couple stuff.”

“Boring and bad in bed,”

he said, in a deadpan tone. “What a catch.”

“Stop it,”

she said, but there was no fire in it, and she could see that this pleased him. “You just told me you couldn’t exist without me. You don’t get to criticize anyone.”

“I’m tired,”

he said wearily. “And I know exactly what I need.” He hugged her to him and she sucked in a breath, inhaling the chlorine scent still clinging to his bare skin, and beneath that, night-blooming flowers and citrus and him . “From the very first day we met, you never had any trouble telling me exactly what you think. I don’t want that to change.”

“No, you just want to run the house and order me around like a big man because that’s what turns you on.”

“It does—but only when you let me.”

Jay was taken slightly aback by the power in his arms when he crushed her bodily to him. “Come to my room.” He bussed her cheek. “Spend the night with me. I won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to. I just want you with me.”

Jay, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, hesitated. And then she took the shot of rum and drank half of it herself before responding, “Yes, Daddy.”