“Thank you, Sir,” she licked her lips.
Isabel and Sarah chatted the entire drive to the club. They were gushing over the gift Sawyer had given Isabel; a white-gold bracelet with an engraving with three simple yet meaningful words that he felt personified her: spirit, beauty, and imagination. He had bought it weeks earlier as a thank you for all the changes she had inspired in both he and Dylan, and also for introducing him to Sarah. The sexual tension was crackling all around them and his nerves were getting the best of him, but he was happier than he had been in years.
They were all laughing at a lame joke Dylan had just told as they made their way to the door of the establishment when Sawyer heard a familiar voice calling out to him. He turned and came face-to-face with Sonya. He had been holding onto Sarah’s hand, but the surprise of seeing Sonya momentarily stunned him and he dropped it.
He smiled at her, hope filling his heart that perhaps she had changed her mind about BDSM, but those feelings were short-lived when she opened her mouth.
“It’s time to end all this nonsense, Sawyer. I want you to come with me right now,” she said unflinchingly, looking him dead in the eyes.
Sarah immediately hid behind him to avoid whatever fallout was about to happen.
Taken aback by Sonya’s off-putting remark, he met her gaze boldly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We’re here to take you home,” she pushed her chin out, her hands clenched stiffly at her sides.
Sawyer was confused and becoming quickly irritated with her demeanor. Who the hell was she referring to anyway?
“We?” She motioned to a tall, thin, attractive man who looked the same age as himself standing several feet away and within earshot. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, agitated by the man’s presence and her comments.
“Intervening,” she replied in seriousness.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of her remark. His eyes darted to the man again and he looked him over closely. “Who is that?” he gestured with his head.
“A friend,” she answered frigidly.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a pointed stare and responded just as coldly. “I see you’ve found you’re next whipping boy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, affronted, resting her hands on her hips.
“Don’t play coy. You know exactly what it means. It means you’ve found someone who will jump when you say jump and follow your orders without question. Why the hell else would he be here when he knows nothing about me?”
The man moved forward defensively and Sawyer shot him a murderous look. “Don’t come any closer,” he growled, pointing his finger at the stranger’s face.
Sonya dramatically flung her hands onto his shoulders and got in his face, “Sawyer, please. You need help getting out of this situation. That’s all we’re here for.”
The ridiculousness of her statement made him unable to hold back his ironic laughter anymore and he let out a breathy chuckle. “What is it that you think I need help getting away from? BDSM? Where do you plan on taking me, Sonya? Bondage lover’s anonymous?”
At that moment, a cold gust of wind moved past them causing Sonya to shiver. Despite being irritated with her, his protective instincts kicked in, and he took his coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders to warm her. When he did, her features softened.
“Can’t you see how wrong all of this is?” she asked glumly.
Isabel moved forward to place a kind hand on Sonya’s shoulder, obviously touched and saddened by the look of misery on her face, but Sonya promptly jerked away.
“Are you happy?” she snapped. “Do you see what you and your husband have done?” Isabel winced and shrank away. “You and your filthy paintings!” she continued shouting.
Dylan moved in, ready to fiercely protect his submissive. “My wife’s ‘filthy paintings’ have brought your art gallery a windfall. Who the fuck do you think you are talking to her like that?” he ground out between gritted teeth.
Sawyer put a hand up and without taking his eyes off of Sonya, he spoke, low and deep.
“I’ve got this.”
He clutched the lapels of the jacket wrapped around Sonya and pulled her close, forcing her to focus her attention back onto him. He had heard enough. Outraged at her hurtful words towards his friends, his heart beat erratically and his breathing came out harsh and ragged. Glaring down into Sonya’s heated grey eyes, he ripped into her, his smooth baritone voice belying the fury he was fighting to contain.
“Have I ever disrespected you, Sonya? Have I ever spoken to you negatively or said or done anything unkind to you?” She stood frozen, her eyes wide and her mouth parted. “Answer me,” he barked. She shook her head. “Has Isabel or Dylan ever hurt you in any way?” Again, she shook her head. “Then what gives you the right to say such cruel things to them or me?” Sonya stood motionless and unblinking, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. “Do I look like I’m being forced to do something I don’t want? Does it look like my arm is being twisted into being here?” Once more, she stiffly shook her head and the edge to his voice lessened. “I’m here because I want my life to change for the better. I wanted you to be a part of that and to share my past with you, but instead you chose to bury your head in the sand and to judge that which you know nothing about.”
Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes shined with tears. As cross as he was, he couldn’t stay angry with her and he eased his grip. She cared enough to show up and even though it was for the wrong reason, he knew she had acted irrationally because she was concerned for him.
“Jesus, Sonya, I don’t need a fucking intervention. Can’t you see how right this is for me?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper. Pushing her brown and silver, wind-blown hair away from her eyes, he skimmed his thumb down her cheek. “Sometimes our balance has to be upset and our course reset in order to help us navigate to our final destination. This is my final destination and where I was meant to be. I’ve never wanted anything more and No. One. Is making my decisions for me.” Sonya started to shake her head again in disbelief, but he gripped her chin and held her steady. “You of all people should know that my mind is my own. I’m never going to be the man who follows your orders or be your whipping boy.”
She cast her eyes down and buried her face in his chest, a sniveling sigh heard muffled against him. “I never meant for you to be that. I only want what’s best for you.”
“It’s not up to you to decide what’s best for me and it’s time for you to accept that,” he stated decisively.
Still pressed into him, she let out one last pitiful sob before straightening herself up. She handed him back his coat and let out the deep breath that she had been holding in.
Fingering her chin, he narrowed his eyes and gave his final order. “Now you’re going to apologize to Isabel and Dylan for what you said. Then you’re going to say sorry to my date for having frightened her.”
The appalled and dazed expression on Sonya’s face almost made Sawyer laugh out loud again, but he suppressed the urge. “I’m not letting you leave here until you do,” he finished.
Knowing Sonya’s stubbornness would keep her from acting on his order, he firmly pushed her body toward the Youngs. Isabel was tucked into Dylan’s arm and peering out timidly while he was glaring angrily down at Sonya.
Sonya picked at her fake nails nervously and tried to back away, but Sawyer halted her escape with firm hands on her shoulders. Standing behind her and out of her view, he winked to Dylan and Isabel and an ornery smile briefly flashed across his face.
“Do it, Sonya, or else I’ll drag your ass into that club and make you watch a flogging scene.” Peeking over her shoulder and raising fine, arched eyebrows, she huffed in protest. “Or perhaps I’ll flog you myself seeing as you clearly need discipline and I’ve taken a liking to that sort of thing.”