Chapter 31 When Possession Hurts

Chapter 31 When Possession Hurts
Dragon Ironside
Her voice on the phone, restrained as it was, was both a balm and a torment. Knowing she was safe, at Nerfertári’s, calmed the most immediate beast inside me, the one that only thought about risk and danger. I hung up and took a deep breath, the vapor of my own breath forming a cloud in the cold air inside the car. I called Marcus.
"Nadja is at Nerfertári’s. I’m going to pick her up now," I informed him, my voice returning to a tone of control.
"Nerfertári’s?" Marcus’s pause was heavy.
He knew the place. Every man in our circle with a certain… taste… knew that place.
"That adds an interesting layer," he said, and I knew he was trying to irritate me.
"It’s not what you’re thinking," I growled, irritated, more to myself than to him.
"I never said it was. But you need to get there before your wife hears stories from other sources. The truth always sounds better when it comes from us."
Damn it, he was right.
I hung up, and the anxiety that had eased came back wearing a new skin.
Nerfertári’s had been my refuge from another life, or rather, from the emptiness of it. A place where I could unload the tension, the rage, the frustration of being who I am, with women who understood the rules of the game and who, in exchange for a generous sum, asked no questions and accepted… certain intensities.
I never acted violently with them. Never. But I used a little more strength, a domination I did not need to restrain, a fire I could let burn without fear of scorching something precious.
And Nerfertári, the owner, knew exactly what I liked. It was her specialty: providing exactly what the client needed, without judgment. The fear that she, seeing Nadja, might let slip some comment, some insinuation… that ate away at me from the inside.
The idea that Nadja might look at me and see not only the executioner, the jailer, but also the client of a luxury spa who used high-end prostitutes… was unbearable.
I would never do something like that with her. Never. With Nadja, it was different. Everything was different with her. From the beginning, even when rage blinded me, there was a… reverence. A need to protect that mixed with possession.
I had been doing my best, a clumsy and error-filled best, so that she would not feel afraid. And now, that place threatened to undo whatever minimal progress we had made.
"To Nerfertári’s, Leo. Fast."
The drive was torture. Every curve brought me closer to the confrontation and the possible disaster. When the vehicle stopped in front of the luxurious yet discreet entrance, my heart was beating with savage force. I felt exposed and vulnerable in a way no street battle had ever made me feel.
Before going in, however, the headlights of another car cut through the gloom. I looked more closely and saw that it was Marcus. He got out, impeccable and imposing as always, and approached.
"Calm your face, Dragon. You look like you’re about to storm an enemy trench, not pick up your wife at a spa," he said calmly.
"She shouldn’t be here," I shot back, my voice tense.
"But she is. And, according to what my men told me, Otávio’s sister is with her. Apparently, the brave Miss Mayer ran away from her engagement to that idiot Tarik. Looks like she brought a little European drama to our mountains."
Ella. Looking at it coldly, I began to see how everything fit together. The escape from home and her audacity in disobeying me. Anger at her boiled up again, but it was secondary. The focus was Nadja.
Without another word, Marcus and I went in. The atmosphere was serene, with the scent of expensive essences and soft music in the background. A striking contrast to the storm inside me.
Nerfertári welcomed us personally. Her ever-sharp gaze passed from Marcus to me, and a silent understanding seemed to cross her face.
"Mr. Reed, Mr. Ironside. The visit is unexpected, but always welcome. The ladies are in their room, preparing to leave."
"How long have they been here?" I asked, unable to hide the urgency.
"Since early afternoon. They enjoyed our premium treatments. Mrs. Ironside, in particular, seemed to… come back to life during the moon bath." Her eyes fixed on me, and there was a slight emphasis on the last words, as if testing the ground.
A moon bath. An image of Nadja, naked and covered in that golden powder, invaded my mind with devastating force. It was an intimate and sensual treatment. Something I knew. Possessiveness and jealousy mixed with anxiety. What else had she tried? What had she thought?
Marcus intervened, sensing the tension.
"Take us to them, please."
As we walked through silent corridors, the echoes of the conversation I did not want to have with Nerfertári hammered in my head. I would have to talk to her. Ask, or rather, order, her absolute silence about my past there. But that would come later.
We stopped in front of a door. Nerfertári knocked softly.
"Excuse me, ladies."
The voice that answered was Ella’s, confident.
"Come in."
Nerfertári opened the door and gestured to us.
"The ladies’ husbands are here… and, if you’ll allow me the observation, they do not seem to be in a very good mood."
Then she stepped aside, leaving us facing the open door. Marcus went in first, his body blocking my view for a moment. And then I saw her.
Nadja.
She was standing beside the bed, holding a small purse. She wore a simple coat over what looked like a dress, but her face… was that of a stranger. There was color in her cheeks, a light in her blue eyes I had never seen before. Her hair, always tied simply, fell in loose, shining waves over her shoulders.
She looked… alive. Radiant. And beautiful in a way that stole the air from my lungs.
The effect was instant and contradictory. A wave of overwhelming relief, for seeing her safe and for seeing her like that, so stunning. Immediately followed by a sharp stab of jealousy. Who had done this to her? The attendants’ hands? Ella’s company? Or simply the fact of being away from me?
She saw me and the light in her eyes did not fade, but it changed. It mixed with shock and fear. The fear I swore I had already eradicated. It returned, and guilt was an ice fist closing around my heart.
Ella, beside her, looked defiant. She greeted Marcus with a simple "good morning," and he returned it with a short nod, his assessing gaze passing from the sister of that bastard to my wife.
Nadja, hesitant, followed her example. Her lips moved.
"Good morning, Mr. Reed…" she said, and then turned to me.
Her voice, a thread of sound, crossed the room and hit me full force. I did not answer. I could not. The words were stuck in my throat, piled together with rage, relief, jealousy, and the fear of what Nerfertári might have said. All I could do was extend my hand to her, a brusque gesture, a silent command.
I saw the conflict in her eyes. The hesitation and the renewed fear. Joana shot me a furious look, but a light touch from Marcus on her arm restrained her. Finally, Nadja stepped forward and placed her small, cold hand in mine. The contact, so simple, was a shock. I closed my fingers around hers, not hard enough to hurt, but with the desperate need to feel that she was really there, that she was mine to take home.
Without a word, I turned and gently pulled her out of the room. I did not look back. I felt Marcus’s, Joana’s, and Ella’s eyes on our backs, but I did not care. The only goal now was to get her out of there, take her back to our territory, to where I could protect her and, God help me, try to explain the unexplainable.
The walk to the cars was silent and tense. Her hand remained in mine, inert. When we reached the car, I opened the door for her and she got in, staring straight ahead. I closed the door, gave Marcus one last look, and he nodded, indicating he would take care of Ella, and then I got into the driver’s seat.
"Leo, go in the other car." I dismissed him. I would drive myself.
The silence in the car was oppressive. Heavier than any argument. I could feel her anxiety, her fear, emanating like a cold mist. I glanced at her quickly. Her face was lit by the streetlights, it was perfect. And still, yes, sad. The radiance I had seen in the spa room had dissipated, replaced by the familiar shadow of apprehension.
I parked in the garage, the gate closing behind us with a final noise. I pressed the button to turn off the engine and the silence became even more absolute. That was when I saw it. In the faint reflection of the glass, silent tears were running down her face.
Something inside me broke. All the anger, the frustration, the jealousy dissolved before that image. Rage gave way to a deep anguish and an agonizing question: what had I done, or failed to do, for her instant reaction beside me to be tears?
"Why are you crying now?" my voice came out harsher than I intended, laden with an emotion I could not name.
She did not answer. She kept staring ahead, the tears flowing soundlessly.
"Nadja, I’m talking to you. Don’t pretend you can’t hear me." Impatience was a disguise for despair.
She swallowed hard, and her voice came out like a broken whisper.
"I’m afraid of you… that’s it. You’re angry. I shouldn’t have left without your authorization."
The confession, so simple and so devastating, echoed in the closed garage. She was right. I was angry. But not in the way she thought. It was not the anger of a disobeyed owner. It was the anger of a man terrified of the possibility of losing her, stained by the shame of his own past and by jealousy of her present.
I took a deep breath, trying to find a thread of rationality in the chaos.
"No, you shouldn’t have left," I agreed, my voice a little softer. "But you know what? It was good."
She turned her face to me, her wide, wet blue eyes full of surprise.
"You went out with the boss’s wife and came back more beautiful than I remembered," I continued, and it was the purest truth. The sight of her in that spa room would be etched in my mind forever. "It’s good to come home and find such a beautiful woman. Now get out of this car. I don’t have the patience for tears without a reason. What is this habit of crying every time I come near you? It irritates me, damn it."