Page 72 of Sinner's Malice
Crispin Sinclair smiled, stepped to the side, waving his hand. “Please follow me.”
I said nothing as I, along with Torment, followed Sinclair deeper into the Playground.
When he stopped before a wall, I looked at him and frowned.
“This is why I called,” the man said, pressing a button, then a window appeared, allowing all of us to see into the room. There, laying on a bed, fully dressed, reading a book, was a beautiful woman. She looked happy, content even. I was confused until my eyes glanced around the room, and I spotted Malice, sitting across the room in a chair with his head hanging low while he gripped tightly to a leather strap.
“He’s been in that position for over an hour now. Hasn’t moved. The woman, Aubry, is an expertly trained submissive. I ordered her to do whatever Gideon asked. When I made the introductions, she was naked. Yet, she is now clothed. I thought it odd that he came to me for the second time. Gideon vowed to never have contact with me again, yet in a matter of weeks, he’s come to me, both times for advice. Gideon doesn’t ask for advice. He is a killer.”
I sneered, “No, he’s not.”
Torment looked at me.
“Silver, you said Malice talked to you last night. Then he told you what he wanted. What exactly did he say?” he asked.
Looking at the man waiting for my response, then back at Malice, I whispered, “He told me he loved me. That he wanted to be better for me.”
Sinclair sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, that explains everything.”
“What does?”
Sinclair smiled. “Why he’s acting out of character. Why my submissive is dressed and he refused to touch her. He’s trying.”
“I don’t understand.”
Torment stepped forward. “Sweetie, what Sinclair is saying is that Malice is a trained Dominant. He ran this club with an iron fist. He never thought twice before whipping, spanking, or punishing a submissive. He lived for shit like that. It was the only way he could let go of all the anger he carried.”
“By whipping women?”
“And men,” Torment cautiously added. “Malice wasn’t picky.”
“Of course he wasn’t. Devlin Scott ensured that,” Sinclair sneered, looking into the room. “The devil spent his life taking out his anger on his son.”
“Are you guys trying to tell me that Malice refused to whip that woman because of me?”
Both men nodded their heads.
Opening the door, the woman never moved while she continued to read her book. Turning to Malice, I walked over to him, stopping mere inches from him. Holding out my hand, I said nothing, waiting, watching to see what he would do. And when he placed the leather strap in my hand, I threw it across the room.
“Let’s go home.”
“Just leave me here. I’m not worth it.”
“Neither was I, and you still saved me,” I whispered.
When he didn’t move, I kneeled before him and tentatively reached out to cup his face. I saw his hands clench and ball into a tight fist, but he didn’t stop me.
“Look at me, Malice.”
He lifted his head and when I looked into his broken sterling eyes, I whispered the one thing I knew he needed to hear, “I love you too.”
“Alright, you two, this is how shit is going to go. Until further notice, both of you are now in counseling. Every motherfucking day. I mean it. Time to sort your shit out.”
“Does that include you too?” Tessa smirked, looking at her husband while she bounced York on her lap. “Because from where I’m sitting, if anyone in this joint needs counseling, it’s you.”
“I don’t need therapy, woman!”
“No, just an anger management class or three.” Largo chuckled.