Dominate Page 22

  As I’m sure you are aware, the home and trust fund are worth a large sum of money. Because of Sophia’s age, I am listing you as the executor of her estate until she is twenty-five years old. At that time, the trust fund, home, and property will go to her.

  This fact will likely not go over well with my son, but I have many reasons for putting you in charge of this. I’m not inclined to inform you of them all, but I will oblige you to some.

  I want Sophia’s education and dreams to be infinite. That special little girl is full of imagination, hopes, and ideas. I trust that you are best suited to guide her in her quest to follow those dreams, wherever they may lead.

  The other significant thing I need you to know is that I’ve also set aside a lump sum inheritance for you. This is not charity. This is what you are due.

  When I first met you in America and my son told me of your unplanned pregnancy together, I was appalled. I thought your modest upbringing meant that you were after my son’s wealth and were using this child as a form of entrapment. It is why I asked you to sign that horrible prenuptial agreement before I agreed to let you two marry.

  I’ve now realised that I was wrong—an adjective that does not sit well with me. Therefore, Harry will have you sign some paperwork, then give you a cheque. This is the appropriate amount of money a woman who marries a man like my son should receive in a divorce.

  This money will give you authority. It will give you control. It will give you freedom. And please always remember that the woman who holds the purse strings, holds the power.

  Sincerely,

  Margaret Coleridge

  When I look up, the lawyer has a second envelope for me and another for Callum.

  Cal rips his open and stands up, nearly kicking his chair over as he does. “This is ludicrous! My mother was not of sound mind when she signed off on this. She couldn’t have possibly been!”

  “Callum,” Harry interrupts, stopping my pacing ex-husband in his tracks. “I assure you, Margaret was of very sound mind.”

  The veins in Callum’s neck protrude angrily. “How could she possibly have these feelings about me? I’m her only son.”

  I look down and tear open my second envelope. The moment my eyes focus on the number of zeroes, I begin to have my own internal fit. Although, I’m guessing our reactions are for very different reasons.

  Harry turns to hand me Sophia’s envelope next. A bit thicker since it’s a trust and not only a cheque.

  I can barely see straight let alone open hers, so Harry takes pity on me and calmly states, “It’s even more than yours.”

  My head is shaking back and forth, but my eyes are trained on Harry. “This has to be a mistake.”

  “That’s what I’m saying!” Callum barks, splaying his hands out on the mahogany desk and leaning over Harry.

  Harry’s demeanour is completely composed when he replies slowly, “It’s not a mistake.”

  “How much did she get?” Callum asks, moving over to peek at the cheque that’s already folded back up inside the envelope. “Sloan, please tell me how much you and Sophia received.”

  Harry quickly interjects. “Ms. Montgomery, I advise you to not say a word at this time. This is a lot of information you need to digest.”

  I nod thoughtfully and look up at Callum. A light sheen of sweat has broken out on his forehead, and I can’t help but puzzle over how things changed so drastically between him and his mother. It wasn’t long ago that they were a united front, intimidating me into split custody. Now, it seems Margaret is on my side.

  “So, what now?” I ask, my throat constricted as I turn my gaze back to Harry.

  Harry opens a large manila file. “I have some paperwork for you to sign and that’s it. I can recommend a good financial advisor to you as well, or I will transfer the details over to whomever you’d like. I do suggest you speak with someone about how to best handle this amount, Ms. Montgomery. It’s important.”

  I swallow slowly, taking in his advice as Callum drops back on the edge of his chair. “So she gets the family fortune and I get the dilapidated house on Rossmill Lane? This isn’t right, Harry! The Lake District is a family estate! Sloan’s not even a Coleridge. She never took my legal name.”

  Harry slides a stiff glance to Callum, who looks like he’s going to stroke out at any moment. “I’m afraid this is what it is.”

  I swear I see a twinkle in the lawyer’s eyes as he points to all the places I need to sign and hands me the keys to the Lake District estate.

  Harry dismisses me, but before I walk out, I turn around and ask, “What about Rex, the dog?”

  “Oh! I almost forgot. Mrs. Coleridge bequeathed Rex to Sophia. He is currently living with the groundskeeper in the home on the backside of the property. Rex can stay there, or Sophia can take him with her. It’s entirely up to you.”

  I smile. “Please call and let him know that I am coming to get Rex now.”

  Harry smiles and nods. “Very well.”

  “Thank you for your time,” I reply.

  Without another word, I leave his office, my entire world completely transformed in front of a couple of mallards.

  When the buzzer sounds off, I hop out of the ice bath. I wrap a towel around myself, hunching over and trying to stop my body’s trembling while wiping away the horrifyingly cold liquid dripping off of me. Bloody ice baths are medieval torture. But the older I get, the more I need them. I used to be like the younger players, training for hours a day and going out the same night without a second thought. Not anymore.

  Now, I can barely make it to nine o’clock at night before falling asleep. Luckily, the routine at Sloan’s house has been an easy one to fall in to since Sophia’s around a lot more. Sometimes we go to bed when she does and, bloody hell, it’s nice.

  My phone lights up on the stretching table beside me, so I hobble my frozen bones over and swipe the screen to answer.

  “Gareth, hey! Are you done with training?” Sloan asks.

  I’ve been thinking about her all day because she had a meeting with Margaret’s lawyer this afternoon. We got in a pretty big row earlier this week when I wanted her to take my lawyer with her and she refused. I hate that she went alone. I don’t trust Callum. Not by a long shot.

  “Yes, I’m just cooling down,” I reply, forcing my teeth to stop chattering. “Did it go okay?”

  “It went better than okay,” she replies, her voice high and excited.

  I frown curiously as I walk through the hallway from the physical therapy room to the changing room. Most of my teammates have buggered off already, but Hobo and a couple others are still lingering. I reach my cubby and head nod to Hobo, who’s sitting a few chairs away, typing on his mobile.

  “Where are you? It sounds like you’re driving,” I ask as I drop down on the chair in front of my dressing area.

  “I am,” she confirms. “I’m on my way out to the Lake District to pick up Rex. Freya is picking Sophia up from school, so I’m going to bring him home and surprise her!”

  A pleased smile spreads across my face. “Rex, the dog, right? That’s brilliant! Sophia will be thrilled.”

  “I know,” she replies. “He’s apparently been staying at the groundskeeper’s house, but I think he belongs at home with us.”

  “I agree,” I reply with an easy smile. “So, is that all? I mean, surely there is more.”

  “Oh, there’s more.” Sloan takes a deep breath that sounds nervous.

  “Well, I hope you’re not going to try to bring a horse back to your place as well because, I have to warn you, I don’t think your car has a hitch on the back for a trailer.”

  Sloan giggles a bit too much and the anticipation for what she’s about to say is potent. “Actually, the horses can stay at the lake because it currently belongs to Sophia and, well, me by proxy. Margaret named me the executor of Sophia’s inheritance.”

  “Bloody hell,” I reply, my face falling. “Sophia got the entire property? That’s quite a shock. I mean, I a
ssumed Sophia would get something, but I’m surprised that Callum isn’t in charge of it after how close you said he was to his mother.”

  “Well, I’m not sure Margaret was as close to Callum at the end because she left me money, too.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, a lot of money. More money than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

  I run my hand through my hair in confusion. “Why did she leave it to you?”

  “Her letter says something about the prenup I signed when Cal and I got married being unfair. But I think a lot of it is because she was upset with how Callum handled joint custody after we got divorced. It’s all so weird. I could hardly feel my face when I was signing the papers.”

  “Right. I imagine this is a lot to digest.” I slump back on the chair and puzzle over how this all turned out.

  “But, the biggest thing of all is that I’m free!” She giggles happily into the phone, her voice rising in pitch with excitement. “I don’t need Freya’s rent for the guest house anymore. I don’t have to live near Rossmill Lane, or worry about Callum coming after me with lawyers, or work as a stylist even. With this kind of money, the sky is the limit! Hell, I can move back to Chicago if I’d like because I have the means to do so now. If Callum tries to fight me on something, I can really fight back! I feel untouchable, you know?”

  “I see,” I reply, my voice tight in my throat as my jaw aches from how hard I have it clenched.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy for me!” she peals. “I am finally out from under the thumb of the Coleridge’s control. I depend on no one!”

  A dark, ominous feeling presses down upon me. Hobo must sense it because he shifts over to the seat beside me with a concerned look on his face.

  “Gareth, say something,” Sloan adds, her tone pleading.

  I swallow down the knot in my throat and say, “I’m happy you’re happy.”

  “Why do you sound weird?”

  I clear my throat and look around the nearly empty room, my mobile cracking in my hand as my grip tightens. “I’m fine. There are just a lot of people in here, so I’ll talk to you more later, okay?”

  “Okaaay,” Sloan replies slowly, her tone confused.

  I hang up and chuck my mobile across the room. It crashes against the far wall and thumps to the floor.

  “Bad service?” Hobo chirps from beside me, shooting a drink of water into his mouth.

  I stand up and turn on my heel, yanking my clean T-shirt off the hanger. “Not bad service. I’m just losing it I guess.”

  “What’s going on, Harris? Talk to me,” Hobo says, propping himself back inside the cubby next to me and blinking his eyes up at me coyly. “Brandi says it’s good for us to talk about our feelings.”

  I step into a pair of jeans and button them up, cutting Hobo an unamused expression as I fix my shirt. “Sloan sounds like she’s going to move back to America.”

  “What?” Hobo asks, his voice high-pitched and surprised as he leans forward on his chair. “When?”

  I exhale heavily and sit down beside him, facing forward with my elbows on my knees and my head hanging low. “I don’t know. She didn’t exactly say that, but she sounds…different. She got a boatload of money today from her ex-mother-in-law, and I feel like everything is about to change.”

  I can feel Hobo’s eyes on me as he asks, “What kind of strings are attached to this boatload of money you speak of?”

  I shrug, my dark mood darkening further. “She didn’t say there are strings. Said she signed some papers and that was that. Seemed so simple.”

  Hobo nudges me in the leg. “My father is British and comes from old money like the Coleridge’s. One thing I know about the wealthy British is that they don’t do anything without strings. You have seen that with Kid Kickers sponsors, I’m sure. Rich people are always serving some sort of selfish goal. Your brother would like that pun, yes?”

  I huff out a small laugh, surprised that there’s anything Hobo can say to lighten my mood. “Yes, Camden would like that pun. But what do I do about this? Sloan doesn’t seem to want my help. She already refused to have my family lawyer with her today. She thought it would antagonise Callum unnecessarily.”

  “Perhaps you should have your lawyer look at whatever she signed. Check out her paperwork and such. It can’t hurt, no?”

  I nod in agreement. “I’ll give Santino a call and see what he thinks.”

  “Super,” Hobo replies with a smile. “This will be fine, Gareth. Sloan is not going to move back to America. There is far too much to keep her here.”

  I look over and shake my head at him. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”

  Gareth is unusually quiet at dinner. I thought he’d have questions about my meeting today, but he doesn’t bring it up again. I thought he’d have fun with Sophia and the dog in the backyard, but he’s quiet. Solemn. He sits beside me on the patio as we watch Sophia toss a ball for Rex, but his mind is in another place. Maybe all the extra training he’s doing for the World Cup is finally catching up to him? I know he’s nearing the end of the regular season for Man U and his team isn’t finishing out as strongly as he’d like. As the team captain, I’ve seen how heavily that weighs on him.

  But something is off about him.

  When I get ready for bed, he finds me inside my closet and reaches around me from behind to hold my body to his. He’s silent as his lips touch my shoulder and he kisses a slow path up my neck. When he reaches my cheek, he silently commands me to turn my head so he can have my lips.

  I give them to him willingly because I’m hopeful it brings him back to me. His firm hands rub me over top of my clothes, hard and almost painful. He palms my mound and squeezes my breasts so firmly, I cry out into his mouth, the hard caress causing all the blood to rush between my legs.

  Without a word, he turns me around and carries me to my bed, pausing to lock the door. He drops me on my back, leaning over to remove my top. Then he hooks the sides of my pyjama bottoms and slides them down with my panties. I quickly move myself up to the top of the bed, my breath heavy in response to the dark look in his eyes.

  I lie naked and waiting as he yanks his shirt off over his head and slowly pushes his shorts down so low, all I see are the defined lines of his hipbones and a light smattering of dark hair disappearing into the waistband.

  He is all man right now. From his body, to his posture, to the possessive look in his eyes. It’s overwhelming.

  His eyes lower down to the damp area between my legs. My body involuntarily squirms against the mattress in anticipation for what’s to come.

  “Touch yourself for me, Sloan,” he commands, his voice low and guttural.

  My head tilts. “What?”

  He licks his lips, not an ounce of teasing on his face. “I want you to touch yourself.”

  I exhale a breathy sigh while my hand reluctantly moves to my centre. His eyes narrow as I slowly begin to circle my clit. I’m not using any magnificent technique, but watching him watch me is extremely arousing all on its own.

  “Do you remember the first time you made me touch myself, Treacle?” he asks, his voice tight.

  Our first night together flashes in my mind. My hips lift upward as I ride my hand and moan out, “Yes.”

  “There’s a beauty in this kind of surrender, isn’t there? Can you feel it?”

  “Yes,” I moan out again as Gareth slowly reaches inside his shorts and pulls out his thick, long cock.

  He fists himself in front of me, stroking from the base to the tip. His gaze sweeping my body, his forearm flexing with each pump. “But to fully dominate something is beautiful as well. Do you agree?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” I cry out, my legs squeezing together over my hand in needy frustration.

  The bed dips as Gareth crawls up between my legs and stills my hand with his. I watch him curl his fingers tightly around my wrists and move them off to the side. He presses them down into the mattress, leaning over me and whispering against
my lips, “What would you do if I took this all away?”

  “Took what away?” I pant, feeling the soft head of his erection brush my inner thighs.

  “My mouth, my hands, my body, my cock…Me.”

  He dips his head down to my breasts and latches onto my nipple, sucking it in harsh and sharp. I cry out from the throbbing sensation that shoots straight from my breast and pools between my legs.

  “Fuck me, Gareth!” I beg, my voice a mixture of throaty desire and desperation. “Please, please fuck me.”

  He releases my nipple and bites his lip. There’s a possessive expression in his eyes as he looks down at me, like I am exactly how he wants me. Complacent and wanting. Limp and waiting.

  His hands cinch tighter around my wrists. “You want me to fuck you, Treacle?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim, wrapping my legs around his hips and pulling him to me. “Please, Gareth. I need you to fuck me.”

  His body stiffens against me, his hands relaxing their grip. “You need me?” he asks, his face unreadable in the dark.

  “I need you,” I beg, my hands slipping out of his grip and slowly trailing up his arms in tender, loving caresses. “I need you so much.”

  He inhales deeply and positions himself at my entrance. He holds himself there, waiting for my eyes to connect with his. “You’re mine, Sloan. You understand that?”

  “Yes,” I answer, my body a mess of chaotic stirrings and overwhelming desires.

  In one huge thrust, Gareth fills me. Fills me perfectly. Fills me like he was created just for me. Body and soul.

  TODAY FEELS LIKE ANY NORMAL day. The money that’s coming my way still a bit like a dream. A foreign concept that I haven’t fully accepted as my own. Right now, my focus is on adjusting to having a dog in the house and keeping him away from the clothes that Freya and I are tailoring for our clients.

  After last night, I get the feeling that something has shifted with Gareth. I’m not sure if it’s the stress of the World Cup approaching or what, but he still feels off. When he left for training this morning, he didn’t wake me like he normally does. He simply slipped out without a word.