Page 41 of Chance's Choice
He nods miserably.
Rage fills me, starting low in my gut and spreading outwards to my extremities. I clench and unclench my fists while I process the information.
I haven’t spoken to my father in twenty years and he’s still trying to get under my skin. Only this time, he’s brought the man I love into it.
A red haze seems to settle over my vision, and I want nothing more than to get back in my car, drive to my parents’ house, and confront the man. I know well enough not to do that, of course, but the urge to attack him -physically, verbally, inanyway possible- is strong.
Ishouldbe comforting Kade. I should be calling Ted and asking what kind of legal avenues we can pursue here. I should be reaching out to my professional contacts to see if anyone needs a sales or marketing guru…but I’m too angry to do any of that.
Then it hits me. “How did he know we were together?”
I don’t love the fact that he winces and averts his gaze completely.
“Kaden,” I press, slipping into Daddy voice without meaning to, “how did he know? I haven’t spoken to or seen him since I left home.”
Kade mumbles his response under his breath, but I’m pretty sure he just said “He’s been watching you” which is creepy as fuck.
“He’s…what?”
“The asshole has kept tabs on you,” Kade suddenly snaps, taking me by surprise. It’s like he’s suddenly a different person, no longer hovering on the edge of little space. His face twists unpleasantly and I don’t mention the cussing rule. For now, there are more important issues at hand than our kinky relationship and the ongoing games therein. “He…he hadphotos, Chance.”
The way he emphasizes the word tells me that they’re not just photos of us holding hands at a restaurant or kissing chastely in the park. The blood rushes from my face and I actually feel woozy.
I own my kinks, but the idea that my privacy has been violated like that in a place where I’m supposed to feel safe is horrifying. Not to mention what might happen if my father were to send those kinds of photos to my boss, or my clients, or my competitors.
“I’m sorry,” Kade sniffs. His voice cracks. “It’s my fault.”
That’s enough to snap me out of whatever anxiety attack was just building. “No, baby,” I force my feet to move and I drop down on my knees on the rug beside his legs. I reach for his hands, squeezing them tight. “It’s his fault. Only his.”
“He told me to stay away from you. When we first got together. Made veiled threats…” Kade’s lip quivers when he forces himself to look at me. His eyes are wet, little red lines starting to appear in the whites as he works himself up. “I ignored him. I thought he was talking shit, just being Don, you know? And I should have told you. I should have. I just didn’t want to stress you out unnecessarily when I thought he was just talking crap.”
I don’t even have it in me to be upset that he didn’t say anything. At the time, we had so much more to talk through than throwing my dad’s crap into the mix. And, honestly, who would have thought the old man would follow through on what any normal person would assume were idle threats?
“I know, baby.” I push off the ground, groaning as my knees protest, and squish myself up beside him on the couch, pulling him against me in another hug. “And that still doesn’t make any of this your fault.”
“I know. Rationally, I know. But if I’d listened to him…”
It hurts to hear the man I love hypothesize about not being with me. “And, what? Broken things off with me? He would have won.”
Kade snorts. It’s a bitter, ugly sound. “Because he hasn’t won now?”
“Nope.” I kiss his temple and nuzzle the side of his face. “Because we’re still together. Because we love each other, and lovealwayswins. You’ll find another job. A better job. And we’ll sue him for…for invasion of privacy and blackmail or some shit. Take him for every fucking thing he’s got.”
Kade lets out a watery giggle. It’s only a half-hearted sound, but it calms something inside me. “I don’t think we can do that.”
“I’m going to talk to Ted anyway.”
He exhales and shrugs. “It’s not worth it. I’d rather walk away and let him think he’s won.”
Except we’ll both live in fear that those photos will surface at some point, but I don’t bother saying this out loud. Not right now. It’s all too raw and we’re too emotional.
Unwilling to talk about it anymore, I ask, “Do you want to be little for a bit?” I think a scene or two would do us both good. “Or my pup?”
Kade doesn’t need more than a second to consider it. His answer is quiet, but decisive. “Little please, Daddy.”
As much as I’ve come to love our pup play, I’m relieved that he’s chosen to be my boy tonight. I want to be able to use proper words with him. I want to snuggle him and kiss him all over. I want to read to him and reassure him that he’s loved and precious. Sure, I could do a lot of that with my pup, but I feel like he’s more likely to fully understand when he’s my boy.
Besides, puppy Kade is a bundle of energy and pure joy. I don’t think either of us wants to experience miserable puppy Kade or bring sadness into our pup play at all. Not that I want my boy to feel miserable, either, but I feel I’m better equipped to comfort a sad boy than a sad pup (and I don’t care if it’s role play and it’s the same person – there’s a difference, damn it.)
