Yes, Masters (Book 2 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 45 - Gideon

I coughed, adjusting the collar of my shirt as I avoided the looks of both Callan and Mateo, who, no doubt, were watching in shock at our interaction. Not only weren't they used to me talking this much without growling in anger, but I'd definitely been teasing Emma, and I'd never been in a teasing kind of mood. Never.

"Anyway," I said, feeling less myself than I've ever felt, "You can get back to bed after you've eaten the rest of the salmon you've started on, the broccoli and potato."

She gaped. "Y-you can't do that."

"Can't do what, exactly? Give you a condition so you can go back to sleep?"

"Yes, that. We're not in an arrangement anymore. You can't treat me like I'm still your submissive, because I'm not."

"We're not in a scene, or doing aftercare, so if you want to be technical, I'm treating you more like my slave than simply my submissive." If it even were possible, her mouth gaped wider in shock. "But that's neither here nor there. You need food to regain your strength, and if you're not taking care of yourself, then we will," I said, echoing Callan's statement. "Besides, when you're under my roof, I expect you to follow any orders that's meant to help you, and it won't be because I view you as my slave, but because I—" I chocked, struggling with one simple word. For some reason, that night at the cat café, my desperation for her to stay made it easier to pour my heart out to her. Maybe it was because we'd been alone, sheltered in the dark of the night, where secrets and feelings were meant to be shared, and this was entirely different. "It's because I care about you," I finally choked out.

Emma's eyes widened at my admission, but before she could say something, Callan stepped in.

"We won't let you wither before our eyes," he said, making Mateo nod in agreement. "But if you're so set on destroying yourself, you can leave."

Oh hell no.

I pinned Callan with a look that probably could kill. I took it back. I was not relieved that Callan was back to his old self. Who did he think he was, suggestion Emma could walk away from us after we'd just gotten her back?

Though...as much as I hated to admit it, his suggestion was true enough. No matter how much we wanted to keep her here, she could leave if she wanted to. It wasn't like we'd lock her inside like a prisoner, though we might want to. Still, it didn't mean I liked the thought of her leaving.

"But...but what would I do with him?" Since Emma had told us about her stalker, I'd noticed how she avoided putting a name to what he really was; a stalker, a psychopath—a coward who hid in the shadows, afraid to face us, knowing he would never win. For Emma to simply call her stalker 'him', she avoided the frightening reality of her situation.

"You misunderstand me," Callan explained. "We'd never throw you out, but we'll also not allow you to starve yourself, or not take care of yourself. So, if that is your goal, then you can leave. You'll still be safe, even if you weren't here. We'll hire you bodyguards instead, as well as getting you a place with heightened security. We'll never stop protecting you, we'll just have to do it from a distance."

"I..." Emma trailed off, not sure what to say.

"You have a choice, Gorgeous," Mateo emphasized. Wrong. If I had a say in it, she wouldn't have had a choice at all—even if I had to chain her to my bed to keep her, I probably would've. "You can stay and let us take care of you as well as protecting you, or you can leave, and we'll still protect you."

She swallowed, heavily. With a look of uncertainty, she gazed at each one of us, scanning our expression, looking for some sort of sign to what we wanted, as if that wasn't obvious. Her eyes dropped to my clenched fist besides my glass of water.

We all held our breath, hoping we'd still have her when we were finished with our dinner.

"I'll..." She swallowed again. "I'll stay."

Collectively, we took a breath of relief, and for a second, I wanted to hug that motherfucker of a friend who'd suggested she could leave, because of that gamble, he'd now made her agree to my commandeering ways; she was giving us control, even if it was only to make sure she was well taken care of.

"Then you know what to do," I said, giving her food a pointed look.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as she once again reached for her fork, and it made me believe that she enjoyed being bossed around, even if she objected to it at first.

Our relationship had always balanced on giving and taking. We couldn't take, if we weren't giving ourselves, else she'd end up with nothing left at all. She was the kind of person who needed to give, and with the wrong people, they would've drained her completely and without mercy.

Our relationship was symbiotic. We had different needs and wants, and our personality couldn't have been more dissimilar, but our nature was dependent on the other, like the other was the piece of the puzzle to make you complete.

My phone rang, breaking the comfortable silence. Normally, I had a rule against phones at the dinner table, but glancing at Emma, I knew these types of rules were only guidelines, and my guidelines now aligned more with making sure our girl was safe than simply having some peace while we ate.

Seeing who'd called, I rose from my seat and walked out. I didn't bother with giving excuses or some other 'good manners' type of bullshit.

I retreated to my office, seeking a place I could listen undisturbed.

Accepting the call, I ordered, "Talk."

"You were right," the girl on the other line said, jumping straight to the point. The fist holding the phone clenched as she confirmed my suspicion. "I ran an analysis of her phone and found the spy program. From what I could find out, it'll allow whoever installed it to remotely control her phone. In theory, they should be able to delete messages, cut off phone calls, track it—it would be as if the hacker had the phone in their hands, so whatever you could do to your own phone, they could as well."

"Were you able to find the fucker who installed it on my girl's phone?" I asked, blood boiling in my veins at the dead fucking guy who messed with the wrong girl.

"Afraid not. This bastard is smart and knows how to hide his signal through multiple IP addresses. It could take me days, if not weeks to find where the signal originated from, and by then, he'll be long gone, if he isn't already."

My teeth grinded, and that anger was burning me inside out. "Stay on top of it. If he sends anything to her phone, I want to know the second it happens."

"You can count on it. As long as you keep paying me, I'll be a damn hound on that bastard."

Ending the call, I felt the urge to fling the device, or break something. I wanted to hear glass shatter as it hit the wall—or preferably having a face to beat in, that, more than anything, would sate some of my fury.

Tony would know when the next fight was, and where. I'll have to hit him up soon.

As I got back to the kitchen and my eyes settled on her, I could feel the fury calm into a manageable level, and all it took was seeing her. The thing about Emma that both intrigued me, and unsettled me, was how she could tame my anger.

Fuck's sake. If this continued, she'd have me pussy whipped in no fucking time.

"What was that about?" Callan asked.

I ignored him, and instead sought the attention of our girl. She'd almost finished the broccoli, but she still had a third of the salmon left, and I wasn't happy with the little she'd taken of the potatoes.

"What?" She questioned when I'd stared at her for far too long.

"I had someone check your phone," I answered in a harsh whisper.

She laid down her cutlery and gave me her full attention. "And?"

"And you need to write down a list over everyone who might've had access to your phone. And I mean everyone, even that best friend of yours."

Hell, especially that best friend of hers. After all, it was those closest to us who had the power to do the most damage. And didn't I fucking know it.