The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

Nine

Augustine hadn't returned since that night.

When I asked the butler, he told me something about springtime being a busy season for corporations. Hirings, firings, acquisitions, taxes? Maybe closing up shop before spending summers on their yachts? I had no idea what he did or why, but it gave him plenty of reasons to stay away and plenty of reasons for me to hate him. 

Every part of that night was a mistake. Though I had full faith in my IUD, I feared waking up with an itch. I didn't know his status or his preferences. I didn't know much about him at all. And yet . . .

I gave in to his allure—an allure I had fallen for before, and one that ended in a very similar way. There was a chance he was pulling another typical dom move by ignoring me until I crawled back to him, but I wasn't going to play that game again. 

I wanted an equal. A toxic dom was beneath me. Figuratively speaking. 

It had been nearly two weeks of me living in the shadow of my mistake, and I still hadn't built up the courage to tell Crystal what happened. Sick with guilt, I decided to rip off the bandaid.

When I grabbed my phone to call her, I found something surprising instead:

I gave your number to someone.

I facetimed her immediately and glared at my screen until her pretty, conniving smile appeared. "You did what?" I hissed.

"Okay, but before you get mad," she began to explain, "he has a full head of hair and a good job."

My anger faded just a bit. "What is a 'good job' in your opinion?"

"He's a doctor," she responded with added emphasis.

"That just means he's a workaholic." Been there done that. Literally.

"He's cute, and even if it doesn't work out, he's a guaranteed lay. He's a regular at Cuff."

A well-known New York City fetish club. "But is he a top or a bottom?"

"I'll let you have fun figuring that out."

I sneered with disapproval. Blind dates were awkward enough without the added twist of undefined power exchange. But, I was horny and my ego was damaged—not a good combo to have when the widower finally decided to come home. I'd need to find some way to resolve it. If not this, then something else. "If this goes badly, I'm blaming you."

She snickered. "Love you, too!"

When I hung up, I felt worse. I hadn't told her what happened. The longer I went, the more she'd think I was trying to hide it from her. Was I trying to hide it from her?

After my moment of contemplation, I looked back down at the phone in my hand. It lingered on the list of my recent calls. Beneath my thumb, Rianne's name glared at me enticingly. 

She offered. I could just accept.

I stared at her number for what seemed like minutes as I debated with myself. Though her request had many, many cons, shaking off the dust and regaining some confidence felt like a much-needed pro.

I called her and she picked up immediately, "There's my best friend!"

I laughed. "You only call me that when you need a favor."

"Well . . . I do."

"What do you need?"

"A dominatrix. I'm short one tonight."

"Tonight?"

She hummed in agreement. "Why did you call me, Bunny?" she purred. "Was it because you missed me?" I could hear her pout. "Or because you wanted that shift I offered you?"