Endless - Manhattan Knights Series Book Three Read online

  It’s Carter. “Take it. I’ll grab the waiter and get the check.”

  As he holds the phone to his ear, the color drains from his face.

  “We’re on our way now. What hospital?”

  Shit.

  He ends the call and immediately dials Lily, arranging to pick her up in a few minutes. “I’ll explain when I get there. Just be ready. I’m coming for you now.”

  He shoves his phone in his pocket. Agitation and fear, clear on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Addi. She’s in the hospital. It’s bad. I need to go.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  His face drops, his expression grave as he replies. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. He’s a mess. Addi is… the baby… it’s bad. Really bad. I think it would be too much for him. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He stands from the table and reaches for his wallet.

  “Don’t even think about it. I got this. You go. Look after him, he’s like a brother to me, you both are.”

  He gives me a hug. Not something we do often, but I think we both need it.

  “Tell him I’m here, and that I care. If he needs anything at all, just let me know.”

  “I will.”

  He leaves in a hurry and I’m left alone, terrified for my friend and the loss that he’s facing. If I was a praying man, I would be on my knees, begging for Addi to pull through this. It kills me that I can’t go and be there for him, and for Addi, but I won’t be selfish. I won’t add to his problems.

  She has to be okay.

  He needs her to be okay.

  Fuck. Vittoria. What will this do to her? They’ve become so close. Losing Addison would be devastating to her. It would destroy her to see Carter broken by such a loss.

  All I want to do is go to her. To comfort her, to tell her it will be okay.

  I want to reassure myself that she’s safe and healthy.

  What kind of man does that make me?

  I called and left a message for Vittoria, but she’s either ignoring it, or she hasn’t gotten it yet. I don’t want to bother her, so I haven’t tried to call back, but I need to know that she’s okay. I don’t have the right to know, but I love her, and the thought of her dealing with this, is painful.

  I left the restaurant and came to my office, but I haven’t been able to concentrate. I haven’t heard any news from Xander yet, but I’m hoping that’s a good thing. I hate feeling helpless. I wish there was something I could do to help my friends, to help Vittoria.

  When my phone beeps, I grab it like it’s my lifeline. It’s her.

  Vittoria: My plane just landed. Going to the hospital now. Xander will call with news. Please don’t call me again.

  Me: I’m so sorry. If there is anything you need. I’m here.

  Vittoria: You don’t get to be that guy for me. You made your choice. Don’t call me, don’t text me.

  I stare at my phone for the longest time. Devastated by her words. Horrified that I’ve made this situation even harder on her.

  It’s late by the time I hear from Xander. Addi is going to pull through. Carter is holding it together by a thread, and now, he’s a daddy. Vittoria is an aunt. I’m so relieved for all of them. I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying today must have been.

  I’m on the outside, looking in, and I don’t know if they will ever forgive me; if they will ever let me be there for them; if she will ever let me be a part of her life again.

  Eight Months Later

  I miss him.

  Every minute of every day, since I walked out of his apartment, since he broke my heart into a thousand shattered pieces, I miss him. I miss the little things. His voice on the phone, low and sexy with a rasp that would melt even the coldest heart. His sweet text messages to say he was thinking of me, or to check that I’d arrived in the next city on tour safely. I miss the way he looked at me, as if I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. And, most of all, I miss his touch. I never had that much time to be with him, and we never made love, but in every way that mattered, he made love to me; with every touch of his hand, with his kiss, devouring me, claiming me as his, ruining me for any other man. I lie awake at night, remembering his smile, and the dimples that could disintegrate any woman’s panties. Everything about him haunts me, and it’s impossible for me to move on. It’s been almost nine months since he ended things between us, and I just can’t let go: I can’t stop loving him.

  Logically, I can understand why he did what he did. He knows how much Carter means to me, and he didn’t want to come between us. I hate him and love him in equal measure for his decision. He was trying to do what he thought was best for me, and it took me a long time to forgive him for that, and even longer to realize that he did it from a place of caring for me, rather than a lack of it. There’s also a part of me, that will never understand or forgive the fact that he gave me no option but to walk away. He didn’t care if I wanted to choose him over family, if I thought he was worth the risk. If he’d taken even a moment to consider that, and ask me what I wanted, I would have told him, without hesitation that I chose him. Even now, I would choose him.

  Carter and I have managed to find our way back to the close relationship we shared before all of this happened. It took me months to get over the fact that he is the reason Logan and I aren’t together. For the first month, I wouldn’t even speak to him, but slowly, we started talking again, and he apologized for causing me so much pain. I don’t think he really understood what his reaction would do that night. It was a shock, and he handled it badly. When he finally admitted that to me, my heart thawed, and little by little I felt like I got my brother back.

  These days, on the rare occasions when I’m in New York, I try to spend as much time as possible with him and Addi, and little V. She’s the light in the darkness for me. An innocent blessing, who gives unconditional love and expects nothing in return. She gives me hope for the future, that maybe, someday, it won’t hurt as much; that maybe I won’t love him as much, and at some point, I might find someone to love me the same way I love them.

  Love unrequited, is life’s cruelest form of torture.

  It’s tough to hear Lily and Addi mention Logan. They don’t mean to upset me, and I hide it as best I can, but hearing about what he’s doing, where he is, and how him and Carter are back to being the best of friends, is difficult for me.

  I spoke to Carter about it a few months ago, pleading with him not to throw away his relationship with Logan over something as trivial as a few stolen kisses. I played it down, telling him that it was a fleeting attraction on my part, and how I would hate for it to ruin a great friendship. Eventually, he listened, but not before giving Logan a black eye, and coming home with a few bruised ribs. When Addi called me to tell me that they had sorted it out like cavemen, all I wanted to do was go to Logan’s apartment. To kiss his eye, and tell him how much I love him. Instead, I punched Carter in the face, which did nothing, it didn’t even leave a mark, and it didn’t make me feel any better.

  I’m happy that they’re friends again, but it’s almost as if what I had with Logan, never happened. There is no evidence that we were ever together, that we ever meant anything to one another. The only way I know I didn’t dream it, is the invisible scars I carry with me; the gaping hole in my heart that tells me it was real, that it mattered, if only to me.

  A month ago, I tried to get back on the horse, as they say, but I couldn’t do it. I sat across from a very handsome gentleman, strong and sexy, commanding and considerate, but I felt… nothing. No butterflies, no excitement at the prospect of something new… nothing. I hate to admit it, but I think Logan might have been right; if he had made love to me, like I begged him to, I would never recover. I’m lost and ruined by the memory of his tongue and his lips all over my body. To have felt him inside me, to be completely possessed by him, would have killed me.

  I want to hate him so badly, to be consumed by rage until
it obliterates all traces of the love I feel. And more than anything, I hate myself – for knowing that I would run into his arms tomorrow if he turned up at my door and told me he wanted me. How pathetic does that make me? The weak girl that forgives a man for breaking her heart, repeatedly, and welcomes him back with open arms; always surprised when he does it again.

  I guess the question is moot. Logan’s not coming back for me, and I need to come to terms with that… one day… I hope.

  Three Months Later

  I’m working on the biggest deal of my career right now. The band I’m bringing over from Scotland, Flaming Embers, are about to cut their first record and go on tour around the U.S. It’s a huge find for my label, and if I pull this off, it is going to mean big things for my company, and for the bands that I represent.

  I've been in and out of the country over the past few months, never staying in one place too long, setting up the tour, meeting with promoters, finding support acts, and getting the boys in as a support act for some of the hottest names in music at the moment. In some ways, it has been a good distraction, but being on the road doesn’t really afford me the freedom to indulge in my… particular pleasures. I know a few BDSM clubs in the bigger cities I visit on a regular basis, and have taken to giving demonstrations on some very lovely subs in training. It lacks the satisfaction I used to gain from my lifestyle, but it’s all I can bear. I haven’t taken on a new submissive to train in the twelve months since Vittoria walked out of my life. The thought of being a Master to anyone but her just doesn’t sit well with me. I tolerated it in the past, knowing that none of them could live up to the fantasy I had of her, but now that I know what I’m missing, it’s incomprehensible to me to claim any other woman as my own.

  I deal with my physical needs and my urge to dominate by conducting Master classes, and teaching others to be Dominants, using faceless submissives in cities that aren’t my own. It’s a fleeting pleasure, a moment of relief from the blackness that burdens my soul. A quick release to quench my carnal desire, leaving me empty and alone, craving a real connection to another human being, to feel that I’m not alone in this world.

  If I had the chance to go back and change that night in Verona, to stop everything that ever happened with Vittoria de Rossi… I couldn’t. I know it would be easier if it never happened; if I had never felt the sheer euphoria of her falling apart beneath me; but I would never trade that night for anything, ever. I wouldn’t trade a single second of our time together. The torture, night after night, when I lie awake, reliving every second with her, is worth it. It’s the only way I know that I still have the ability to feel; to love; that I still have a soul.

  My world is black and gray; she is the glorious splash of crimson that makes the rest of my dull existence worthwhile.

  As I load my bags into the cab idling at the curb outside my building, I’m happy to be getting out of New York for a few days. I’m heading to Edinburgh to bring the band to the States. Their Visa applications have been approved, and I have an apartment set up for them here in Manhattan, in one of Xander’s many buildings. I could only afford to get them the smallest place, but it’s in a great location, and like everything that Xander does in business, it’s sleek, elegant and cutting-edge. They’re going to love it.

  I can feel myself relax as we pull into traffic, heading over the bridge, and out of Manhattan. My home has become oppressive of late, and I’m eager to get some distance. I’m also mildly excited to visit a great BDSM club in the Scottish capital city. Steeped in history with a dark underbelly; Edinburgh is an exciting place to be, long after the tourists have gone to bed. I’ve made plans to meet an associate of mine and give a demonstration to a small group of Dominants who are training as Masters. I’m told that there are several new submissives who are desperate to be my subject, and anything else that I might want them for afterwards. Sounds like exactly what I need right now. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel anything other than indifference.

  When the driver pulls up outside La Guardia, I’m excited, and as I grab my case and head inside to check in, I’m feeling optimistic for the first time in months. The queue is non-existent and the stewardess takes her time checking me in, flirting outrageously with me. I indulge her; flash her my killer smile, dart my tongue out to wet my lip, and watch as her gaze travels to my mouth; her pupils dilating; her nipples becoming tight under her blouse, on display through the thin white silk. I had almost forgotten how much I love the effect I have on women, and I can’t help but enjoy it just a little.

  “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll take you over my knee, darling.” Her breath hitches, her cheeks flush, and a seductive grin spreads across her pretty red lips as I turn to leave. As I walk away, she’s almost panting in response.

  “Anytime, Mr. Fitzgerald. My number’s on your boarding pass.” I’m never going to call this girl, but the shit-eating grin on my face right now makes me feel alive again with the possibilities. Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to forget for a minute, an hour, maybe even a day. I look over my shoulder and give her a wink, visibly turning her into a quivering mess before my eyes. I’m a dick for reveling in it, but today, I’m going to let myself enjoy it.

  My mind wanders to the pretty blonde stewardess as I stand, scanning the departures board to find my gate, when a familiar voice sends a shudder through my body, rocking me to my core.

  “Logan. What are you doing here?” I slowly turn my head, knowing that the calm, carefree feeling of just moments ago is going to be obliterated the moment I set eyes on her.

  I’m not wrong.

  My reaction to her is visceral. I can’t believe how badly she affects me.

  “Mother.” I give her a tight grin. It’s all I can manage. “Whose dime are you travelling on this week?”

  I can feel her disdain for me, dripping from every pore.

  “I see you’re still your usual judgmental self, Logan. But since you asked, I’m going to Paris with Guillaume for a few weeks. He has some business to attend to and thought I would enjoy it.”

  “What happened to Roger?”

  She simply sneers at me. “Roger was six months ago, darling. He wasn’t the man for me, but I think Guillaume could be.” I won’t hold my breath. The last ten boyfriends have been ‘the one.’

  “I’ll keep an eye out for the wedding invite in the mail.”

  “You’re always so negative about my relationships. No wonder they never last.” Seriously!!!?

  “Yes, Mother. I’m the problem. I don’t have time for you to rehash how I’ve sabotaged all of your relationships over the years. I have a plane to catch. Have a safe flight, and enjoy Paris.” I give her a strained kiss on her overly plumped, botoxed cheek before turning on my heels and striding away from her poisonous mouth.

  “Goodbye, Logan. Remember to control that temper of yours!”

  She knows exactly how to bait me, but not today. I’m not letting her drag me down. I was feeling good for the first time in months. I know, even as I try to talk myself out of it, that she’s already succeeded. I’m angry, edgy, and pissed off by the time I reach the departure lounge.

  I work my way through the crowd and board the plane ahead of time. One of the perks of first-class. It’s not long before the other passengers start filtering through, jostling with their bags and making their way to their seats. I’m about to close my eyes and block out everyone around me when I’m frozen to the spot.

  It can’t be.

  I can’t speak. I want to, but the words won’t come.

  I reach out and grab her wrist, holding her in place. Her gaze flying down to meet mine.

  My heart is pounding so hard, and so fast that I feel like it is going to burst at any second. I’m mesmerized by the exquisite beauty before me, roaming every inch of her like a man starved for the past twelve months. Her scent invades my senses, soft and demure, subtle and fresh… and… Vittoria. She’s dressed in faded blue jeans, a baggy green sweater and a pair of
old Adidas high-tops. Her hair is tied in a messy bun, small strands escaping, caressing her face and neck. She’s wearing a pair of deep purple framed glasses, and she looks just as stunning as she did in a ball gown, standing in L’Arena, so long ago.

  “Vittoria. Why… what… how are you here?” She gives me a satisfied grin. She knows she’s affecting me, and she loves it. Her eyes travel down to confirm her suspicion, coming to rest on the sight of my dick straining against my pants. She licks her lips, causing me to harden even further.

  “I’m heading to London on tour. What about you?”

  I know I’m holding up the passengers waiting impatiently behind her, but I just don’t give a damn about them!

  It takes me a moment to stop staring at her lips and force my brain to remember that I’m not a babbling idiot, and that I am in fact a grown man, a businessman, and a Master.

  “I’m flying through London to Edinburgh to finalize the contracts with Flaming Embers, and bring them back to the States to start work on their first album for my label.”

  “Wow. That’s great, Logan. The label seems to be doing well. I’ve followed the artists you’ve signed so far, and I’m impressed. I’ve heard great things about this new band from Lily, so I’ll look forward to my advanced, signed copy of the album!”

  She makes me laugh.

  I can see the line behind her growing restless, grumbles and stares that are obviously making her uncomfortable, and ready to walk away, but I can’t let that happen.

  “Your wish is my command, Miss de Rossi.” Her face sobers at my words. Any discomfort, replaced with anger.

  “I won’t hold my breath for it then. You tend to leave me hanging when it comes to what I want from you. I learn from my mistakes. It was nice to see you, Logan. Safe travels and I hope it all goes well with the band.”

  She turns to leave and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut; winded and wounded. Instinctively, I tighten my grip on her arm, to stop her from walking away. I don’t know what to say. Everything she said is true. I left her in L’Arena, naked and wanting; offering herself to me in the most vulnerable and beautiful of ways, and then, I sent her away in New York. She gave me a second chance, and I blew it. A decision I’ve regretted every minute of every day since.