His Broken Submissive : Mercy

10 Idiot

Jonathan

My schedule looks like a raccoon shredded it, took a dump then buried it. The impromptu trip for Sam on top of the mess with Damien and now the police is enough to stress anyone out.

This next week alone will be a lot of long days and late nights but I hope things will calm down afterwards. And yet with everything going on, all I can focus on is Izzy.

With everything that happened, I worry talking to detective Hicks will just add fuel to the dumpster fire. Then there's the matter of our last encounter, the look of terror in her eyes still haunts me.

I love Izzy. I would do anything for her and yet I was too focused on myself and my own pleasure that I didn't notice her panic...

What kind of Dominant fucks that up?!

The way her face fell when I stepped away and told her to get ready for the day was like a punch to my gut. I can see her uncertainty but I can't be trusted with her, the last thing I want to do is make anything worse.

She's been very quiet on the way over to the club, warning me that her mind's running wild but my attempts at small talk have gone nowhere. She beelines for Jack and Becca the moment we get to the new club, leaving me alone to find Anne.

She stands ringed by her subcontractors as she issues orders and talks deadlines. All eyes are trained on her and no one dares to interrupt nor move until she dismisses them.

"Ah Jonathan," she greets with a big grin. "What do you think?" She turns in a slow circle, gesturing to the open space.

My eyes survey the new and improved Bliss and notice how close everything is to being done. "I think it looks ahead of schedule," I admit with a chuckle.

"Well when the person cracking the whip," she says with air quotes, " actually has a whip, that serves as real motivation."

"You would," I groan.

"This is my baby, there's nothing I wouldn't do to see it succeed," she huffs.

"It's one of your best features," I concede.

"So," she drawls. "Things with Izzy?"

I sigh, not sure how to answer. They're not bad but precarious feels like an understatement.

"Seriously?!" Anne hisses, pinning me in place with her keen green gaze.

"What?!" I snap. "Nothing happened, I didn't do anything, I just..."

What? Worry that I'll make it worse? That she won't look at me the same way? That she won't ever trust me like she once did...

"You know," Marilyn pipes up appearing beside us. "During traumatic events, it's often easy to forget that the trauma isn't contained to only the victim."

I turn my full attention to her and raise a brow, not following her logic.

"PTSD is not reserved only for the victims, it's just as often the people who witnessed an event and were unable to help..." she leads.

I can't help but frown.

"Guilt at not being able to have done more, seen something sooner, having stopped it, are all understandable thoughts but can be self-destructive. Hindsight can be a curse as often as a blessing. In the moment, things can happen so quickly and out of your control that no matter what, it would have happened anyway."

"That's easy to say because you weren't there," I grumble. "I knew her past, I should have known I was going too far too soon..." I shake my head as images from that night flash through my mind.