He nodded more than once that time, got up but bent over, pulling the loser by his ankle and sending him crashing back into the pit.
The crowd loudly shared their approval of this act as Flamma bent again to nab his straps, stood before her and bowed his head, looked to Stellan for another brief bow, then he stalked off. Shifting behind the thrones, he lumbered toward the doorway where he’d entered with his opponent, doing this with an ovation following in his wake but looking like he didn’t give that first shit.
He’d served his Mistress.
She’d met his needs by allowing him to serve.
It was time for a Budweiser.
“Regardless of the result of our negotiations,” Stellan began, and Sixx looked to him just as he lifted her knuckles to his lips.
She watched with great fascination as he rubbed them along his lower one once, twice, again, and again.
Four times before he stopped.
Four times she wouldn’t forget of that gentle touch, how soft his lip felt, and the different feel she got in her belly that he’d even do it.
“They know you now,” he continued. “He’s yours. This chair is yours. The first Tuesday every month, you command Flamma from this seat until you release him from his duties.”
“And I’ll have to do that when?” she asked.
“When he finds a Mistress who doesn’t like sharing. He’ll inform you if this happens. We’ll discuss your uses for him in alternate ways later. However, this seat is always yours if you have a fighter in the arena or not.”
She didn’t have the mental capacity at that point to consider Flamma’s alternate uses.
At that point, she had to stay on target.
“And your seat?” she queried.
“Is always mine.”
She started to pull back, but his hold on her tightened so she stopped.
But she did begin, “Stellan—”
“Trust me.”
She felt her lips part.
She trusted no one.
No one but herself.
And Aryas.
And sometimes Carlo, but he could be a prankster, and it chapped her ass whenever he was.
But maybe two hours ago Stellan was a remote Dom who shared an acquaintance with her as well as membership at the same sex club.
That was all.
And now he was …
What?
Stellan’s face changed.
And she stopped breathing.
Good Lord.
How could he get more handsome?
She had no idea.
But she’d just witnessed it happening.
“Just trust me, Simone,” he urged gently. “And if you do, I swear to fuck I’ll make you happy that you did.”
The night bore down on her, crushing her, a warm, exciting, welcoming weight the likes she’d never felt, not once.
She wondered if that feeling was what kids felt the night before Christmas. The day before a trip to Disneyland. Sitting at a dining room table and facing the lit candles on their birthday cake.
But she wouldn’t know because she’d never had any of that.
“Did you build this building?” she asked.
A soft look entered his eyes when he replied, “No. It was owned by an online shopping company who tried to rival Amazon and failed. I just bought it, dug the pit, reconditioned it to serve as an auditorium, and hired a talent recruiter, a promoter and an event manager.”
“So the building sits vacant when there aren’t gladiators in the pit?”
“No.”
He didn’t elaborate.
“And you did this for me,” she went on.
“Yes.”
He did it for her.
God.
All of this …
For her.
He didn’t say anything more on that either.
“You’ve barely spoken to me since I came back,” she pointed out.
“When a man prepares to broker a deal he very much wants to swing his way, he’s certain to prepare thoroughly before discussions begin.”
God.
This was unbelievable.
“Perhaps we should have our talk tonight,” she suggested.
“Oh no,” he replied. “That wouldn’t be fair, darling. You’ve had no time to prepare. And I might have been thorough, and obviously I’ll be entering the negotiations knowing what I want. But if I come out with the deal I’m hoping for, it won’t be as sweet if I get it taking advantage.”
“This is a lot,” she admitted.
Though that was an understatement of epic proportions.
And Stellan knew it if the amused smile he gave her was any indication.
“You have four days to become accustomed to it.”
The sounds of the milling of the crowd filtered through the intensity of their discussion, and she realized Flamma’s victory heralded the end of the night.
She also had a flash drive to deliver.
And a mind-boggling number of things to assess and consider.
You can if you promise to think about it.
Think about what?
Being happy.
Was happiness sitting in a chair right by her side holding her hand?
Or was it just another path—one that might prove to be far more painful than the not-so-fun ones that came before—leading to everything ending up just plain shit?
“Sixx?”
The name she gave herself coming from his lips brought her back into an auditorium retrofitted to offer her something she enjoyed greatly and receiving a gift a woman like her could only cherish.
It meant everything, and it was then Sixx learned that everything was just that.
Everything.
And everything was way too much.
Suddenly that crushing weight wasn’t warm and welcoming.
It was just crushing.
“Sixx,” Stellan whispered, his hold on her hand tightening, again like he sensed the turn of her thoughts.
“Bait with an exceptionally elaborate switch, and you reeled me right in,” she whispered back.
“Did I?” he asked.
She stared into his eyes, and she did it for a beat, two, three, four.
How about I won’t actively avoid it?
Damn, she’d promised.
Sixx was capable of a lot of things.
Breaking a promise wasn’t one of them.
Definitely not one she’d made Aryas.
So she had no choice but to answer, “We’ll see.”
three
The Ones I Love
STELLAN
Stellan prowled down the hall toward his office in a foul mood.
He was just back from a lunch meeting that went on far too long, especially for the large amount of nothing that came of it, and he was not a man who appreciated having his time wasted.
However, this was not why he was in a vile mood.
It was Friday afternoon.
The next day, he was having a party. The kind of party he always thoroughly enjoyed.
However, this particular party was one he’d expended no small degree of effort in making meticulous plans to significantly enjoy.
And in the early hours of Wednesday morning, when he stood with Simone at the driver’s side door to her Cayenne and handed her his card—a card that had his office phone and address engraved on the front, his cell phone and home address written on the back—he’d ordered her to phone him prior to Saturday to get details of when she was to arrive and what she was to bring with her when she did.
She had not phoned.
She’d had some “business” to attend to, and that, as well as all Stellan had bombarded her with that night, was on her mind.
And although Stellan had contacted Aryas to make certain he’d heard from Sixx (he had), Stellan had decided in future, if she did not cease these antics that were foolish at best, could be deadly at worst, he’d put a man on her to make certain she was safe until he could talk her out of continuing to do the incredibly stupid things she did.
In the meantime, if she did not arrive at his home the next day like she’d been told to do, it would be the shortest party he’d ever thrown, considering the fact that he’d leave it, find her, and toss all the rest of the meticulous plans he’d made out the window while he communicated to her precisely what he wanted her to know.
And he’d do this until she submitted to it.
In fact, the only thing that kept him from taking his mood out on anyone in his path were the new elaborate plans he was making, detailing how he’d be certain to teach Simone some very important lessons.