Her Dom's Lesson (Dominic Powers Book 2) (3 page)

“Whatever,” he replies with contempt.  “Just be here tomorrow night at nine o’clock after I get off from work.”

“I mean it, Harrison.  After this, you have to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, you said that,” he snaps before hanging up on me.

I’ve been on autopilot at work again today.  My mind knows I have to find a way out of this funk, but there’s nothing to make me happy.  I somehow make it through the hum-drum day that has become my existence and I’m on my way back to my condo before I remember that I’m supposed to go to Harrison’s house tonight.  Groaning in frustration and exasperation, my mind wages an inner war on whether I should go.  At the last minute, I decide to get it over with and hold him to his word to never bother me again.

He calls for me to enter when I knock on his door and I walk through the darkened house to find him.  “Harrison?” I call out into the blackness.

“In here,” his muffled voice calls from the bedroom.

I approach cautiously, obviously not trusting him as far as I can throw him.  When I enter his room, I feel his arms encircle me from behind, the awful stench of his breath flows across my cheek as his puts his mouth close to my ear.

“It’s about time you got here, little girl,” he scoffs.  “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

The stale stench of cigarettes and whiskey permeate his breath and I have to consciously stop my gag reflex from taking over.  Twisting and turning, I try my damnedest to break free from his grip but he just keeps squeezing tighter.  The panic starts welling up deep inside my chest.  I know what’s coming next.  He’s going to tie me up and do whatever he wants to me.  The very thought of him touching me makes me sick to my stomach.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he jeers.  “Ol’ Harrison has plenty for you.  I need to finish up with her first,” he inclines his head towards the bed.

In the darkness, I can just barely make out a figure lying on the bed.  My stomach roils and I have to consciously fight back the urge to vomit.  There’s another woman in his bed.  She’s tied up and has a ball-gag in her mouth.  I can’t see her face very well since my eyes haven’t adjusted to the dim light yet, but from her frequent sniffles, I know she’s crying.

Harrison suddenly jerks me up in the air and I wildly kick my legs, trying to come into contact with any important part of his anatomy.  He’s so strong, and I’m so weak from not eating, that I’m no match for him at all.  He deposits me into a chair that’s directly in front of the bed and he slaps me hard across the face.  It temporarily stuns me as he straps me in so tightly that I can’t move at all.  The taste of coppery blood fills my mouth, and uncaring where I am, I spit it out in the floor of Harrison’s bedroom.

This earns me a slap across the other side of my face.

“You stupid bitch!” he yells.  “You’ll clean that up before we’re done here.”

He climbs back over the silent form on lying on the bed and I hear her whimper as he settles in between her legs.  “Sophia gets to watch us, baby.  She knows she has to share me.  I’m too much man for one woman to handle.”

As I think back over all these encounters he’s made me watch when he brought other women home to fuck them, it makes me sick all over again.  Harrison said this is how it was supposed to be.  But now I know better.  I know that my Dom would never do this to me.  He explained to me how it should be, he showed me what real love is, and he promised I’d never have to share him and he’d never share me. 

The only thing that’s running through my mind now is how I can get out of this house before Harrison finishes with her and starts with me.  He removes her ball-gag and she begins moaning in pleasure.  Bored, I look around the room and let my eyes adjust to the darkness more.  Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and feign indifference as I work relentlessly at freeing my hands. 

My wrists are raw from the constant rubbing of the insides of the restraints, but I’ve managed to get one hand free.  Harrison’s grunts are gaining in volume and tempo, so I know he’s close to finishing this round and I don’t have much time.  Tugging and pulling on the other restraint, I finally free my other hand and bend to unfasten the ones around my ankles as quickly as possible.

Harrison rolls over off the other woman and folds his arm across his eyes.  Within a few seconds, he’s snoring and she’s out like a light, giving me time to get free and escape from the house before he wakes up.  Moving silently through the house, I open the front door just as I hear Harrison yelling for me.  Running in a dead heat, I think I’m in the clear as I reach my car when I’m suddenly yanked backward by my hair.

“You’re not going anywhere, bitch!” he growls in my ear.  “It’s your turn, sweetheart.”

I scream at the top of my lungs and he twirls me around, backhanding me across the face and knocking me to the ground.  There is only blackness and bright starbursts in my vision field now.  Sluggishly trying to move, I feel like I’m watching a slow motion film where I’m the main character.  I feel a hard thud and realize I’m knocked back to the ground as he continues to hit me and his hand wraps around my throat.  Suddenly, Harrison is lying on top of me, tearing at my clothes with one hand while squeezing my throat with the other. 

When I think back to all the abuse I’ve endured at this man’s hands, all under the guise of being a Sir who loves me and was training me, I feel more than foolish, stupid, and naive.  I don’t even know where to begin to start fixing this mess now, but I know I don’t have the strength to fight him off any longer.  I’m dizzy from all the blows to the head.  I’m fatigued from lack of food and I just don’t care any more. 

I’ve dealt with all that I can take.

Harrison’s screams fill the night and I struggle to open my swollen eyes.  I have no idea what’s happening now.  All I know is I’m confused, dazed, and heartbroken.  A familiar voice calls to me, low and soothing, telling me to hold on and that help is on the way. 

I must be hallucinating or dreaming.  I know that voice, but I know it can’t really be his. 

A large hand grips mine when I try to move.  The familiar male voice whispers to me, “Be still, Sophia.  I’ll be right back.”  I feel him move away from my side, but that’s the only indication that he’s moved away from me.  His footsteps are silent and stealthy.   He’s clearly in his element in the dark of the night.

  I’m lying on something very uncomfortable and it’s sticking into my back.  Although I’m not sure I can sit up, I know I need to get out of here before Harrison comes after me again.  I hear tires screeching and then sirens in the distance, but everything’s so jumbled, nothing really makes sense to me.  Somewhere in my mind, I know I need to run as far away from here as possible.  My body just doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with me.

“Be still, Sophia.  The ambulance is almost here,” he says as I feel him at my side again.  “Harrison got away.  But, don’t you worry, I’ll find him.”

Struggling to open my eyes, it feels like they’re both covered with something heavy and sticky.  I manage to force one eye open and I search for the owner of the comforting voice.  My vision is fuzzy and there’s not much light, but I immediately recognize the shape of his body.  The timbre of his voice suddenly clicks in my head.  But, it still doesn’t make sense.

“Tucker?” My voice barely squeaks.  My throat is so raw and sore when I try to speak.

“I’m here, Sophia,” he replies, his voice thick with concern.  For Tucker to sound concerned, I know I must look pretty awful.

“How?” I whisper.

“Don’t talk right now, Sophia.  The ambulance and police are pulling up.  We can talk later.  We need to get you to the hospital.” 

Tucker rises to meet the paramedics and deputies as they pull up at Harrison’s house.  Whatever I landed on is still sticking in my back and I try to roll over again, but I should’ve known that Tucker’s hawk vision wouldn’t have strayed from watching me.  Before I can even push up from the hard ground, he’s back at my side and the medics are rushing over with the gurney.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tucker asks in his take-no-prisoners tone.

“Fell on something,” I whisper in an attempt to explain my predicament.

“They’re about to pick you up, Sophia.  Just wait one more minute.”

Since I don’t really have a choice right now, and I’m unable to do it on my own anyway, I do as he instructs.   They check me out thoroughly before rolling me over and slipping the backboard underneath me.  After I’m securely fastened to it, I’m lifted on to the gurney and thrust into the back of the ambulance.

“I will meet you at the hospital, Sophia.  I’m following right behind you in my truck,” Tucker calls out from the back door of the ambulance.

“Girl,” I urgently whisper.

“What girl?” the medic asks, clearly perplexed but also concerned.

“Inside,” I manage to respond before one medic rushes out of the back of the ambulance. 

The cop stops him, “I have to clear the house first.  Wait here.”  He unsnaps his gun from its holster and moves quickly toward the house.  After a few minutes, the cop returns to the front door and yells for the paramedic to come with him.  Tucker sternly instructs the second paramedic to stay with me as he also runs toward the house.  A few minutes later, I hear a call come across the radio requesting a second ambulance for this address, telling me they found the girl that Harrison left inside. 

I exhale a sigh of relief.  I’m so thankful for the help and care I’m receiving.  This gurney isn’t the most comfortable, but it’s so much better than the hard, rocky ground where Tucker found me.  I know there’ll be questions for me later–from the cops and the paramedics.  But the ones from Tucker are the ones I dread the most.  These are my last thoughts as I allow the darkness behind my eyelids to overtake me. 

The hissing of the oxygen flowing is the first sound I hear as I wake from the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.  The mask over my face immediately makes me feel claustrophobic and I clumsily fumble to rip it off my face.  A large, warm hand gently wraps around mine and stills my movements.

“Sophia,” Tucker says softly, “let me.”

Gladly lowering my hand, I let Tucker pull the mask down my face to my neck.  I can still feel the oxygen flowing, and knowing Tucker, this is his way of compromising with me.  The chair scraping across the floor is my notice that he’s moved his chair closer to my bed.

“Where?” I whisper and immediately wince.  My throat is raw and my neck muscles are sore, even the slight movement from trying to talk is extremely painful. 

“You’re in Baylor Medical Center, Sophia.  You’re very lucky.  We came in last night and you’ve been in here for about eighteen hours now.  You’ve had an MRI, a CT scan, and X-rays, but the good news is there’s no permanent damage.  You have a lot of soft tissue damage– like bruising and swelling –that will take time to heal, but no brain bleeds or anything permanent,” he quickly explains and I try to grasp what he is telling me.

No permanent damage is the general gist of his message and I’m happy with that for now.

“Your voice will take a couple of weeks to get back to normal.  Harrison was choking you and the pain you feel is from the swelling inside.  The doctor said you have to keep from talking as much as possible or it’ll delay your healing.”

I nod and gloomily think that I have no one to talk to anyway, so that really doesn’t matter.  The thought of Harrison getting to me when I can’t scream for help fills me with fear, though.  Trying to open my eyes is another feat that feels impossible.  My lids feel like they’re weighted down with cement blocks and, again, I only manage to open one eye.

“Your eyes are really swollen, Sophia.  You have some pretty bad shiners.  That’s why you’re having such a hard time opening your eyes.  Once the swelling goes down, your vision will be back to normal,” Tucker explains in a way that’s much more gentle than I’m accustomed to hearing from the big brute.  This fact alone tells me that I must look even worse than I feel.

“When?” I ask, trying to keep my questions to single words and just hope that he understands my intent.  Tucker doesn’t disappoint me.

“When will you go home?” he asks to clarify and I nod my head.  “That’s up to the doctor.  She really didn’t give me a lot of information since I’m not family.  I didn’t know who to call for you,” he says, almost apologetically.

I just slowly– and carefully –shake my head from side to side to tell him there’s no one to call.  There’s no one to care about me.  No one will come running to my side to make sure I’m still alive. 

“Just rest now, Sophia.  You’re safe,” Tucker reassures me.

My eyes are closed but my mind is racing.  Everything has spiraled out of control and I’m not sure it can even be contained now.  Harrison has royally screwed me over and I’ve allowed it.  I helped it.  Every day, I had an opportunity to put an end to this whole charade and I didn’t take it.  To that end, I have to take responsibility for my actions and accept that I’ve lost the love of my life.

The door to my hospital room opens, creating a distinctive clicking and creaking noise that I recognize without even opening my eye.  There’s no point in looking to see who it is.  My family doesn’t know, and wouldn’t care, that I’m in here.  My Dom has severed all personal ties with me, so I know it’s not him.  If it happened to be Harrison, I know that Tucker would protect me.  Most likely, it’s hospital personnel making their rounds.

“Miss Vasco,” an authoritative female voice calls my name.  “I’m Dr. Fallon and I’ve been overseeing your care since you were brought in last night.”

I force my good eye open and give her a nod of understanding.  Moving to sit up straighter is painful, but I know from experience it’ll only get worse if I don’t start moving now.  Tucker rises from his seat and raises the head of my bed as I readjust my position to face the doctor.

“Would you mind excusing us?” Dr. Fallon asks Tucker directly.

“Not at all,” Tucker responds.  “I’ll be right outside, Sophia.  No need to worry.”

“Thank you,” my voice croaks as I momentarily forget I can’t speak.

Dr. Fallon notices and promises, “Your voice will return in time.  It’s best that you not strain it until then.  Use low whispers when you must talk.  I’ll try to phrase most of my questions as a ‘
yes or no’
to make it easier on you.” 

I nod and give her a small smile since anything else is too painful right now.  In watching her confidence and poise, it occurs to me that I’ve spent way too much of my life being a victim to someone else.   Not all of it was my fault, but somewhere along the way, a pattern has emerged and I don’t like it at all.  It’s way past time for me to be strong, stand on my own two feet, and face the future with my chin held high.

Dr. Fallon takes the seat Tucker vacated and reviews the information in my chart before speaking.  “Your eyes look a little more swollen today, but that’s normal.  The swelling will start subsiding now and your vision will return.  Your MRI and CT scans were all normal, so there’s no permanent damage.  You probably feel like you’ve been run over by a car, though,” she finishes with a smile.

I nod and whisper, “Yes!”

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, what’s your pain level today?”

“Four or five,” I whisper.  My injuries hurt, no doubt, but it’s not the worst pain I’ve ever felt.

“Miss Vasco, I haven’t prescribed you any strong pain medications because your blood work indicates you’re pregnant.  Were you aware of this?”

I’m stunned speechless.  Even if I were able to talk, scream, or yell, there’s no way I could.  I shake my head, not in response to her question, but in response to my own inner turmoil.  Did I just hear her correctly? 
I’m pregnant?

What. The. Fuck?

“I take it you didn’t know yet,” Dr. Fallon presumes.  Correctly.

When I look at her, my bottom jaw is still on the floor, my heart is beating erratically, and my head just slowly moves from side to side of it’s own accord.  My hands draw together in my lap, my fingers wringing each other relentlessly as I try to calm my heart.

“When was your last period?  How many weeks ago?  You can hold up fingers if you need to,” she instructs.

“Calendar?” I whisper and she hands me her phone after pulling up the calendar app on it.  I scroll back through the dates, counting back and trying to remember when it was.  I point to the week and realize it was just over six weeks ago, right before the time when my whole life fell apart.

Holding my throat for support, I whisper to her, “Lighter than usual.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“No. Implant,” I whisper and point to my arm.  My short answers will have to work for now or I’ll have to start writing out the answers.  My anxiety is making my throat constrict even more than before and even whispering is becoming more difficult.

The knowing look on her face concerns me.  “Are you sure the implant didn’t come out on its own?  Did you doctor specifically feel for it and tell you it was in place?”

I think back and try to remember the specifics of that day.  “No,” I whisper.  He simply gave me an injection to deaden the area, made a small incision to insert it, and walked out of the room when he was finished.  He didn’t touch my incision site after he inserted the implant.

She examines my arm, feeling around the area where it should be.  She manipulates my arm into different positions as she continues her examination.  Her face gives nothing away but I think I’ve been holding my breath the entire time.  What is she going to tell me?

“There’s no implant in your arm, Sophia,” Dr. Fallon explains.  “The implant is small and has to be placed in a specific location for the best benefits.  Your doctor should have felt of the site immediately afterward and ensured it had been inserted correctly.  I don’t feel it anywhere in your arm, which leads me to believe it was either never fully inserted or it fell out immediately after the procedure.”

Sitting in stunned silence, the only recurring thought I have is that Dom will never believe me.  He’ll think I lied about the whole thing just to trap him with a pregnancy.  My anxiety is increasing by the moment.

Dr. Fallon makes some notations in my chart before returning her gaze to me.  “Based on this information, you are somewhere between four to eight weeks pregnant, but I’m leaning more to the six-week timeframe.  That’s probably why your menstrual cycle was lighter than usual during that time.  Your obstetrician will be able to pinpoint a more exact time with an ultrasound.