I nearly retaliate to her patronizing tone of voice, but my inner wisdom cools me down. I force a smile and sit down elegantly, reminding myself that when you're in Rome, you gotta do what the Romans do.

"Arabella. Is that your name?" she asks even though I'm sure she knows the answer already.

Sly one.

"Ara, please," I remark.

Her long manicured fingers tap on her knees as she studies me tentatively. What's her deal, honestly? Mentally I frown, I growl, and she finally releases a breath while unfolding her legs to sit straight.

She leans over toward me, still gauging me as if I'm five and errant. "You're not really a sub, are you? You don't know much about him either, do you?" Her questions feel like a pile of judgmental scripts prepared for me.

Maliciously.

I let out an insufferable sniff and bite my bottom lip, roiled inside. "Depends on who's asking. Is it an old friend of his, or simply a Dominatrix trying to exercise her power over an unintended subordinate?" I quiz.

Her brown eyes narrow in a displeased fashion but she doesn't respond as quickly as I imagine she should have.

I sigh and continue, "Because it's the latter, with all due respect as this is your dominion, I'd have absolutely nothing to say. And If it's the former, I'd kindly tell you that I know him well enough and that's all I can say."

Darkness pours through her eyes like an eerie, stormy cloud in the sky. Yuck! Here comes the warning about getting on the Masters' bad sides. Did I overdo it? Was I supposed to cower and let her intimidate me with unnecessary female innuendos?

A laugh of disbelief leaves her lips before she says, "You're right. It is my dominion and he is more than an old friend to me. His happiness matters and I can tell you are incapable of giving him that! You don't know anything about our world. Do you think you can live with that? Are you sure that you can provide him the satisfaction all these dominant and sadistic men come to this place to have? Do you think you're enough for him, Arabella?"

"Ara!" I snap. Rage unfurls inside me until my skin crawls with goosebumps. "Don't call me Arabella!" I add sternly and I hate it when she calls my name that way.

Nonchalantly, she lifts her hands in the air. "Whatever you wish. Ara."

I scoff, searching for my lost composure from wherever it is. I take a deep breath and utter, "I may be a stranger to your incredible kinky world, a person who doesn't fit in, per your judgment as I can see, but let me remind you that it's not your place to decide whether I belong or not. It's between Adrian and me and you're not involved in any way, I assure you!" I grit my teeth, failing miserably to keep it cool.

Who does she think she is?

"Listen, little girl, I'm trying to—"

"I'm not a little girl, Francesca!" I snap, almost loudly. My anger retracts instantly as I notice some attention. In a trimmed voice, I add, "And Adrian is not a little boy who needs your protection or whatever that is, either. I don't give a damn about what sort of a relationship you two share now, or shared in the past to give you such authority over his private affairs, but I won't let you bruise my confidence as you're strenuously trying to do. My relationship with Adrian is none of your business, Madam. Whether I'm capable of satisfying his needs, or how I go on about it, is something between us so stay out of it!"

With that I get up, unable to mask how upset I am. I can't stand her.

Her audacity makes me furious.

Who is she to Adrian to ask me such questions, huh?

"You won't be able to handle the whole truth about him, Ara." Her tone full of malice makes me stop and look at her. "None of the women he'd been with were able to make him stay because he knew they wouldn't handle all of him. They couldn't and you're no exception. But since you think you're too special to be on that list, my dear, be my guest and try it. Try to be more than a weekend adventure to a man whose world is not even half of what you think you know." She smiles confidently as she leans back in her seat, as though she knows Adrian like the back of her hand.

My heart shrinks and fear congeals my high hopes like Atlantic icebergs. She's a Domme, and he's a Dom. If it weren't so, I'd say she wants him for herself. Is that even possible?

"Everything okay?" Adrian's voice cuts through.

"Of course. Ara and I were having a small ladies' chat," Francesca replies. "How is it over there?" Her sass dismounts to worry, talking about their stuff.

"All okay now. It's about to begin." I can feel Adrian's full attention on me as I fight myself from giving in to the seed of doubt the evil dominatrix has happily watered. "Arabella?" he calls.

"Mmh?" My eyes rake over his.

He frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" I'm a bit lost, mentally.

He holds my face, inspecting me closely. "What's wrong?" His gentle caress on my cheek reminds me of his presence in my life.

How he completes me.

I stare at him for a good while, pondering over everything I've just heard. But in the end, I put everything on hold by smiling and assuring him even though I still believe there's a part of me that yearns to deeply know Adrian and I can't repress it.

Francesca may be a real old bitch, but she's partly right.

"I'm okay. I missed you." My cheesy confession makes his lips stretch into that Dom smile, hard but warm.

His fingers dive through my hair as he draws me closer, eyes filled with both worry and menace. He inspects me for a short while until he softly says, "I know you're hiding something, but we'll have time for that later. Come with me; I have reserved seats for us."

Like a small ballroom, the mid lounge is accented with round tables with flowers and candlelights. We occupy one of them, and Francesca joins us shortly in the company of another Dom, middle-aged as her, and then a young Dom appears with his sub, a charming little blonde with a Barbie look.

"Hi, Madam Francesca." The blonde sounds enthralled, grinning as though she's floating in clouds and the whole world a carpet for her feet.

"Cree, darling. You look happy tonight," Francesca replies smoothly, and, surprisingly, she can be genuinely sweet to others.

"Well. I am." Cree sits right beside her Dom, her slim fingers clutching a black choker around her neck as if it's the sole reason behind her wide smile.

Everyone at the table gives her a nod and smiles.

"Claimed, huh? That's amazing. Now have a seat girl, will you?" says Francesca, and Cree's cheeks flush as she nods shyly.

"She better. Or else her sorry ass will pay for it when I'm done here," replies her Dom, and her mouth purses into a cute pout. "I mean it." He strokes her chin and steals a kiss that turns her smile alight.

Again she touches her collar, a glossy leather choker embedded with a gold padlock. It's a perfect match to her strapless bralette and latex shorts. I'm not sure what it symbolizes, however, but Cree looks absolutely in love with it.

Soft piano music cuts through the voices. Darkness pools in, and in a heartbeat, a spotlight flows onto the man seated behind a gigantic piano. Silence bathes the whole lounge, and a pensive melody engulfs the air upon the slide of his fingers.

My fingers interlace with Adrian's as I lay my head on his shoulder, drinking in the sudden romantic atmosphere surrounding us. Candle flames dance smoothly on the table, and the music feels both melancholic and hopeful for some reason.

Reminds me of A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.

"He's good," I whisper after several minor falls and major lifts.

"That he is," Adrian replies similarly.

Before I can ask a word more, two men drag a young woman toward the piano. A few gasps rise from our neighbors' tables, and it appears that the woman is struggling to protest. The music stops altogether as the pianist sets his eyes on her, a dangerous frown on his hard, manly face.

"Let her go," he orders.

The two men free her, and she stands up with her head hung low, fully aware that she's been watched by everyone now, like a grand exhibition of art. I can feel how embarrassed she is, but she seems guilty too.

"I'm sorry, Master. Please don't punish me in public. I hate it when everyone is watching," she begs.

I squint my eyes, feeling concerned about her. Has she made such a big mistake or something? My time to think is quite limited as the pianist stands up and heads toward her. Her eyes remain low until he grabs her chin to make her look up at him.

"Sorry for what, subbie?" he snaps.

"For yelling at you, Sir. For letting my feelings get in the way of your decisions. For loving you too much to accept the fact that you'll be leaving once again and I'll be here all alone." She's crying, a very painful cry that pinches my heart until I gasp from my memories.

It's as if I understand her, even though I hardly know what she's talking about.

"Look at me, Denise," the man orders. Her head shakes in refusal. He sighs heavily, and glances around before he sternly snaps, "I said look at me!"

Automatically, her eyes meet his. She's still sobbing, and the guy seems affected by the fact. Quite gently, he wipes her tears, and she gives him a look of surprise as though she was expecting hell.

"You're not mad at me? You're not going to punish me?" She's astounded.

Instead of answering, I see the man plucking something from the jacket of his full black suit. It's dark on this side so I hardly see how everyone's reacting to this. But I know I'm stunned, hyped, for I have a feeling that he's going down on his knees in one... two... THREE!

And damn right, he does just that.

"Mon Dieu!" Francesca murmurs.

"Oh my Gosh, he's doing it, isn't he?" It's Cree, wiggling in her chair.

"I'm a man who knows nothing but giving orders," the Dom begins, his voice tough but nervous. "Hell, I'm a captain in the American Army so it's only natural, right? Hell, what am I saying now?" He takes a breath, and people laugh at him. "What I'm trying to say is that with you, I'm eager to listen and compromise as well. But with my job, I can't stay here for long, and I don't want to be far from you. So I've made up my mind. I need you to come with me."

"Huh?" the sub gasps in a stupefied tone of voice.

"Only if you agree to be my wife! That's it."

"Huh?"

"Will you quit saying huh, woman?" the Dom growls, adding more laughter in the air. "Will you put this ring on your finger or not? That's what I wanna know." He looks nervous and it's cute.

He opens the tiny box in his hand. A shiny ring appears and the lady turns awestruck by it. So do I, and mainly from joy.

"So?" he asks impatiently.

"So what? Ask the damn question already," the sub manages to speak.

"Huh?" The Dom frowns,

"Ask me the damn question, Sir! I'm not putting the ring on unless you propose to me!" She crosses her arms.

"Boy, he's so clueless!" Cree blurts out. "Ask her to marry you, big daddy!" she yells.

Laughter erupts from every corner.

"Oh. Okay." Her Dom clears his throat. "Denise Supreano. Will you marry me?" he finally asked.

She lifts an eyebrow.

"Please?" he adds.

And her answer was a loud, "Yes! Yes, Kalvin McDonald! I'll marry you now and forever!"

My mouth hangs open in awe as I watch him put that ring on her finger. I can feel the butterflies in her tummy as she puts a hand on her mouth, eyes stunned as she beholds the shiny gem on her engagement ring. And I think it's the most amazing proposal I've ever witnessed in my life.

"What?" Adrian chuckles when I snuggle too hard against him, a smile on my face.

I gaze up at him. "Nothing. I'm just happy for them."

"I see." He kisses my hair.

The ceremony continues with our newly engaged getting naughty with hot kisses and hugs. Francesca congratulates them on behalf of every club member—It so happens that they have an exclusive membership only at the moment.

As Adrian mingles with his peers, I walk aimlessly around the place while sipping my champagne. Now it's just a celebration over drinking and laughing. I stop by the counter and order myself another Dirty Martini until Adrian catches up.

"About time we go. Are you ready?" he asks me.

"I'm ready," I tell him.

We turn around, ready to go, when Francesca's heels clad toward us.

"Leaving so soon?" she asks Adrian.

"Yeah. We've had a long day and it's very late." After a glance over his Rolex, he gazes back at her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Um... Okay. Good night," she says sweetly now, regarding me this time. She leans in toward Adrian, and kisses his cheek, before eyeing me and whispering, "You, too, Ara. Good night."

Wow! She's surely a sly one.

Or maybe she's just looking out for him? Friend to friend?

Ugh, whatever!

"Likewise," Adrian replies as I choose not to, and slowly we take our leave.

It's 1:40 A.M as I collapse in Adrian's vast hotel bed. I'm sleepy and beat, my eyes barely working with some alcohol running through my blood vessels. And then Adrian joins me, basking me into his arms when he hugs me from behind.

"I know I'm late but... Happy graduation day, baby," he whispers.

"Thank you," I murmur groggily, trying hard to stay awake.

"I'm proud of you, Arabella. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring you any present. Is there anything you want? Name it and you'll have it." He strokes my hair, pulling every strand away from my face.

I smile again, inhaling a shaggy breath to firm my eyes. "There is one thing I want badly."

"What is it?"

I take my time to reply, thinking back to everything Francesca said to me earlier tonight.

"I don't want anyone telling me that I barely know you, Adrian. That what we have is just a moment and it won't stay, all because I'm someone who knows so little about you, about your needs, about..." My voice trails off, and warm tears cascade across my face out of nowhere.

"Arabella..."

"Just... Please let me in, Adrian. Let me in so I can willingly decide whether tp stay or not. I know I love you and there's nothing to stop me from saying again and again. But still, I need to know you."

"What did she tell you?" Adrian asks, seeming both angry and worried. "Francesca—she told you something, didn't she?"

I laugh tiredly. "No, Adrian. She didn't tell me anything; this is all me and what I want," I tell him with all honesty. "I'm exhausted, let's talk tomorrow."

"Yeah. We have to," Adrian answers, more to himself.

Before the light goes off, I only manage to feel the duvet pulled up to cover me, and then a very warm embrace followed by a kiss on my forehead—and some incoherent words that Adrian whispers to me.

I think of nothing until the new day begins with a stubborn vibration of my phone. It's a call from Sally, and I gather I'm all alone in bed. What time is it? It's already sunny outside. I frown, rubbing my eyes with a long yawn while taking the call.

"Hey." I don't leave the bed.

"Hey, sweetie. Are you good? Did I wake you?" Sally asks softly, which is quite unusual of her.

"Um...yeah? Why? What's wrong?" I turn wary.

"Nothing serious... Just..." She sighs. I frown deeply. "I mean, you need to come home immediately."

"What? Why?" I snap briskly and sit up altogether. My patience wears off the more I wait for her to say something, but she doesn't. "Sally Osborne! Are you going to talk or not?"

"Alright, fine! Damn it! They told me not to say a word but I just can't keep it to myself so I'm gonna spill it as it is, okay?"

"Spill what? You're scaring me." My heart palpitates with the thought of any bad news right now.

Is it Isla? Or Jake? Or maybe Sally herself. Is she in labor?

"It's... Aunt Laura." Silence breaks. "She's here, Ara. She's back."

I freeze.