Deviant Vows by Anna Widzisz
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Davina
When I come back to the penthouse at around three in the morning, I find it empty and quiet. Macsen didn’t lie when he said that he’s leaving for that trip. As William told me, he found out about his missing money. Which tells me that it wasn’t completely planned and all he wanted to do was to be away from me for a little bit.
I get it.
I’m not an easy person to share a life with. Mostly because I really hate sharing and take no crap from those who expect me to share. And Macsen most certainly does.
Throwing my sports bag on a sofa in the lounge, I walk to the kitchen to find dinner waiting for me on the pan. Macsen’s housekeeper must have left it for whenever I’d be back. I turn on the cooker to heat up a coconut lime chicken with pasta. It’s one of my favourite dishes and it surprises me that she knew that. I’ve never given any list of likes and dislikes as far as my eating habits are concerned. But I guess nothing in those circles stays private for long, so I shake it off and move to the fridge, taking out a bottle of water.
It’s been a day.
I can barely feel my body. Not to mention that my dislocated shoulder hurts like a bitch. The doctor gave me some pain meds and put me in a shoulder brace for at least a week. Not that I’m good with following anyone’s orders so it’ll probably be off in the next few days. It limits my movements.
From behind me, I hear claws against the hardwood floor, reminding me that, as it turns out, I’m not alone. I shift a little to the side. meeting small black eyes, following my every move. Hellion is standing by the counter with this puppy expression, begging for the food.
It didn’t escape my attention that Macsen hadn't expected me to be accepted by his dog so quickly. And perhaps it is a bit strange because of his distrustful nature, but I’m not that surprised myself. No matter how strong I make myself seem, and how powerful, there are bits and pieces of me still breaking into tinier pieces for some reason. One look at Hellion and I know he feels it. His small black eyes show that even without saying anything he can communicate his understanding to me better than most people.
I smile slightly and take a piece of chicken from the pan, extending my hand towards him. Without thinking twice, Hellion runs to me and licks it off of my palm, not begging for more, which shows how perfectly well-behaved he is thanks to Macsen training him. He only sits down on the floor, pressed to my leg as if in a protective gesture. As if I am not safe here by myself.
Which quite frankly can be true. No matter the state of the arrangement, the marriage, the Firm still isn’t whole. People still don’t like one another and at times I even doubt whether Macsen has good intentions. Him leaving me alone in a place that he knows better than anyone can as well be his way of getting an alibi. Though, I try not to dwell on this and for once trust that I haven’t made the biggest mistake of my life by agreeing to this marriage.
Sitting down at the counter with my late-night dinner, I check my calendar for the next day. I have quite a few meetings planned with our new gun suppliers which makes it even worse that Macsen left me to deal with it. Not that I mind. I’ve always done things myself. However, showing a united front should also be the case in this kind of business. Not only social outings. Then, I set an alarm for an early morning since I also promised Arya to check up on Sapphire, especially after the whole fight fiasco. I don’t regret doing what I did, so I need to show that I am serious about the consequences of doing something of that sort again.
I eat quickly before retreating to my bedroom. Hellion follows me everywhere, guarding. I thank the heavens that Macsen is just as much of a private person as I am and hates having security in. Next, I send William a text message to be ready by six in the morning so he can supervise the next shipment. I really don’t trust my father to do the job right.
Taking a quick shower, I check what my body looks like. There are many bruises and some are still forming. A few cuts here and there, as well as my messed-up shoulder, of course. To be completely honest, I’m surprised that I’m still able to do things. Although, maybe it’s the adrenaline still rushing through my veins. It will wear off eventually.
And just like that when I get in my bed, I feel exhausted. Both mentally and physically. As I see Hellion laying by my bed, I tap the mattress, letting him on it. I don’t mind him sleeping with me. At least I won’t feel so alone in this big-arse penthouse that is not mine. No matter what any marriage document might say, nothing here is mine and never will be.
It's all just a means to an end.
✽✽✽
Sex sells. That’s the main reason why I’ve invested in this industry in the first place, no matter how many people consider it shameful for me to do so. This decision was met with many older members of the Firm trying to challenge my position, which was laughable because there’s not a single soldier in the ranks who aren’t frequenting those establishments. Not to mention that from the moment I started financing them, they became more exclusive and suitable for whatever perverted kinks they had.
I walk through the hall of a big Victorian house converted into an exclusive high-end sex club. One that once upon a time belonged to a certain member of my family and holds all the worst memories that I can think of.
Clearing my throat, I look around. Nothing really changed from the last time I came here. It’s ideally divided into rooms, the public and private spaces carefully separated. The walls are cream coloured with dark oak floors, carpets here and there full of detailing, and bannisters, as well as stairs, match with the flooring. There are paintings hanging all around bringing this decorative aspect of the Victorian era. All the windows are either tinted or closed with long black curtains.
I hear someone approaching me.
“Mrs Kinsley,” a male voice draws my attention. He’s tall and probably in his late thirties, his hair blond and eyes dark green. His expression is cold, but it doesn’t hold anything other than respect.
I nod at him. “Davina, please,” I say.
“Arya is waiting for you,” he tells me, gesturing towards the stairs, then moves in front of me. I remember where her office is but I decide against mentioning it. It’s his job and in this place, I’m a guest. The owner only on paper.
We get to the last – fourth – floor, surprisingly passing quite a few other guards. This place opens in the late evening so there’s no need for all those people. What’s more, I don’t recognise any of them. Though they most certainly recognise me as each and every one greets me with a polite nod. I watch the man knock on the door at the far back of the hallway. We hear a soft but confident voice and come inside at once.
Arya is already leaning against her desk, looking through some documents. She glances up at me, gesturing to come in further. “Thank you, Max. You can go downstairs to help set everything up for tonight.” With that, the bodyguard leaves, closing the door behind him.
I raise my eyebrow. “You sure as hell wrapped them all around your finger,” I joke, but there’s truth in this. Men in our world rarely listen to women, let alone show respect so openly. Max does. Not only towards me but also Arya as if he considers us superior.
“Isn’t this why you chose me to run this place?” she asks, laughing melodically. She throws the documents on the desk and goes around it, taking out a thick, black book. “Here are all the settlements as well as the list of clients.”
I frown. “Why do you want to give it to me?”
“William told me yesterday that you might want to check it. Especially the clients.”
“Why would I?” I pause. “Arya, this is your business and I trust your judgement. I just wanted to make sure that nothing is going to happen after last night.”
She shakes her head. “Everything is perfect.” She tilts her head to the side. “Can I ask you something?”
I don’t answer and simply wait for her to continue. I know her long enough to realise that her asking for permission is just her being respectful. She’s still going to ask whether I agree or not.
“You could have ordered someone to kill him for you. Or just punish him somehow. So why did you risk your life for one of my girls? You don’t even know her.”
But I feel like I do.
I swallow.
Scratch that. I know that I know her.
“I’m fed up with people thinking that sex work is some taboo thing and they only ever like it when it fulfils their needs. The sick bastards have double standards, juggling through them however they see fit. Those girls are here of their own free will, Arya.” I walk up to one of the chairs by the desk and sit down. My palm brushes across my throat, feeling the scar. “You know that better than anyone as you’re the one recruiting them. Just because they decided to pay their bills in such a way, doesn’t make them any less of people. I don’t have to personally know any of them to stand up for them.”
“I get it. I just didn’t expect you to decide to fight with the guy. You’re the boss and you risked your life. When he took out the knife, I thought that it might as well be over. And when you let go of that rule of a fist fight, I was honestly scared for you.”
Truly, I’m shocked. Arya isn’t one to talk about her feelings like this. Just like I’m not. She saw and experienced many horrors in her life but it’s the very first time I see her shaken up. Honestly, I believed she became immune to any kind of cruelty after those years.
I shrug, ignoring her emotionality. She wouldn’t appreciate me bringing it up.
“As you said, I’m the boss. My people are my responsibility. I’m not going to let any man fight for women's rights. And I expect you to tell me if something else out of the ordinary happens.”
I stand up about to leave the office.
“Why did William want me to check the list of the clients? You don’t write their names, right? We cannot get caught, Arya.”
“I know, Nyx. I’m not writing the real names.” She smiles. “I think he wanted you to see whether there’s someone frequenting this place that you might not want to come here.”
I don’t need to ask more to realise that she means Macsen. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he came here. Just as much as our marriage lacks, our sex life does too. We quarrel too much to ever get close to fuck. But she’s right that I wouldn’t want him to frequent here. However, somehow it has nothing to do with the fact that if someone recognised him – and everyone would – it’d mean trouble for both of us. No, there’s some deeper feeling that I can’t put my finger on.
“Does he?”
Arya shakes her head. “He’s never been here. I know that he has been going to a few whorehouses in his part of the city back before the wedding. I have no information about it now, though.”
I nod, sighing with relief. The weight lifts from my shoulders. “Alright, keep me posted.”
“Will do,” she says. I press on the handle. “Nyx, one more thing.”
I turn my head to her.
“Please, thank Macsen for me for that additional security. And apologize in my name for how it all went down with us meeting at that ball.”
Wait, what?
What additional security?
“He sent security to you?” I know I passed many guards on my way here but I didn’t think they were here because of Macsen, whatsoever. I don’t understand it.
“He did. Apparently, all ten of the men are at my full disposal to make the girls feel safer and well taken care of.”
Just when I think I know who my husband is, he decides to do something that contradicts the image of him in my head. But I don’t let it be noticed and only nod my head, leaving the room. He doesn’t like that I’ve fought but he still wanted to make sure that the business he has nothing to do with flourishes without pressure from anyone. Let alone the clientele.
So what the bloody hell am I supposed to think of him now?