Page 2 of MVP (VIP 3)

  I stopped living the second she walked away from me. I moved in an autopilot state of mind, where I thought I needed to make things right with Julia. She was my wife…again–huge mistake. I did everything for everyone else. All my decisions were based upon what would make someone else happy. I didn’t say what I wanted, what I desired, what I fucking needed to keep going.

  And that made me a coward.

  I had almost two decades worth of regrets.

  Ysabelle is my reward. She’s my happy ending.

  Although, we have progressively moved slower than I would have wanted. Yes. I wanted to marry her, I wanted to watch her belly grow with my children and know I put them there. That we created life together out of our love. I wanted the good, the bad, and the ugly…the fights, the makeups, and everything in between. I wanted a life with her and only her, to grow old together and know that I had spent every day of my life with my perfect woman by my side.

  I wish it were that easy.

  The God’s honest truth was that she didn’t trust me. Ysabelle could hide from everyone; I’ve seen it and experienced it first hand. However, Ysa couldn’t hide from me. Her emotions, thoughts, feelings, were all governed by a façade that she put up, and she didn’t even realize she was doing it. It’s fully engrained in her; it’s all she knew.

  I had the privilege to have knocked it all down, with no right, might I add. Only to have personally placed each slab precisely on top of each other and built it right back up. No one did that but me.

  I lived with that regret.

  It’s no longer on my terms…it’s on hers…

  And that scared me more than anything.

  “Do you see what time it is?” I announced, holding my phone up to his face. He grinned a sexy smile that made me want to kiss and slap him at the same time.

  He leaned in and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him, my front to his front. My breathing hitched as his lips whispered into my ear. “I can’t help that my cock has an attachment to your sweet pussy.”

  My eyes widened and I sucked in my bottom lip.

  “You have no idea how amazing it feels to be inside you, Ysa. I just had you and I want you again.” He kissed the side of my neck before pulling away, leaving me half stumbling to catch my composure. “Plus, I’m making up for lost time,” he said with a wink and walked away.

  Jesus…

  He had found me two months ago and I felt like I was being introduced to a completely different side of him. Of course, I knew how demanding and controlling he was in bed. We weren’t allowed to do it in public before and it had been somewhat of a surprise to how vocal and affectionate he was. I loved it. Having him back in my life was extremely unexpected; we were away from each other for almost two years. I never anticipated that he would make his way back to me. I knew he loved me and I know he still does, it didn’t stop.

  We hadn't said it to one another, and I wasn't going to be the one to say it first, even though I felt it in my being. He was the one…

  Love is a battlefield.

  There are two opponents on each side of the scale; one person moved forward, backward, side-to-side and the scale tips. In order to make it work, you have to work together. It takes two mutual parties becoming one. Communication is key. It’s the very foundation that will make or break your unity.

  But guess what? Love causes war.

  I was twenty-six years old and felt like I was fifty. I’ve experienced so much beyond my years that a normal person couldn’t possibly fathom. I had seen things that people have only dreamt about or read about in books. I’ve sold my soul to the devil and lived to talk about it. There wasn’t one place on my body that hadn’t been touched by a man or a woman, except my heart. That has only ever been touched and connected to one person.

  Sebastian.

  From the first time that I literally fell into his arms, it was home. There was this unspoken bond that I felt as soon as I looked into his eyes; they held more emotion and sincerity than I had ever had the privilege of witnessing before, and it was only for me. It was as if he looked through me as opposed to at me. Every time we locked eyes and got lost in the intensity of our stares, we were one. I had no idea if that was even possible or if it even made sense.

  I didn’t know anything about love.

  All I knew was that being without him was like not being able to breathe–you could survive on an oxygen tank that provided you with a comfortable life, but you already knew what it was like to breathe on your own–so you longed for the way it was before. It would be miserable. There was no going back. That being said…I knew how to look out for me. I knew how to survive because I had to. I controlled everything around me…I always had. I had no control around him and that scared the living shit out of me.

  I had more money than I could spend in three, maybe four lifetimes.

  I had experienced loss, contentment, survival, happiness, and even love.

  I didn’t have any regrets in my life, and I didn’t know if that made me a good or bad person. After some of the things I had done, it could go either way.

  To me…

  I’ve lived.

  I’ve survived.

  I had come from nothing and became a VIP.

  And a huge part of me will always be proud of that.

  I know that sounds asinine, but you haven’t lived my life. I never felt any self-worth until I became a VIP. The Madam was a mother to me, just like she said she would be. She took me in and made something from nothing. She gave me tools to become one of the elite. For a girl like me, that was immense. You could criticize and judge me all you want; I’ve always been honest. That’s one trait you can’t take away from me. You wanted the rest of our story, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here reading it.

  I am who I am, I always have been. An old dog can’t be taught new tricks, but they can adapt…and that’s what I was trying to do. I embraced whatever the fuck was handed to me.

  It’s who I am.

  I’ve always felt like I was Sebastian’s puppet, and he pulled the strings until I couldn’t take it anymore and cut myself loose. When we were asleep and his arms were around me, I felt safe…I felt home. My eyes would begin to shut and then my mind wandered from consciousness to unconsciousness, and it always returned to the same thing.

  Was he with me because I look like Olivia?

  Was he with me because Julia wanted the divorce?

  Was he going to hurt me again?

  Could I really trust him again?

  I had let all my barriers and guards down with him once and it blew up in my face. Mocking me.

  I’m trying…

  But lie to me once, shame on you.

  Lie to me twice…

  Shame on me.

  Chances really was an amazing bar; Ysabelle had done a great job with making her vision become a reality. It was located in Providenciales, which was the centralized area for nightlife. The bar was opened from 9am-10pm; Sunday through Wed and Thursday through Saturday 10am-4am. She had spent a small fortune having her place above sound proofed. It was beautiful; it overlooked the water with the sand below your feet. Clients loved to feel like they were at a beach party. The bar was the main attraction, positioned right in the middle with area-lighting set up all around and mirrors behind the liquor, to make it look as if it were reflecting the sun. All the high-top tables were scattered around the bar with tiki huts and flat screens placed everywhere to bring in the sports crowds. She’d spent a lot of money on this place and I couldn’t have been more proud of her. The staff absolutely adored her; she was a great boss.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” I hesitated as I watched her ass sway in her tight bikini bottoms that showed more ass cheeks than it actually covered.

  “That’s dangerous,” she replied, looking up through her eyelashes while she cleaned one of the tables at her bar. She smiled and cocked her head to the side, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “What?” she goaded.  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  She laughed. “Oh, come on…I know that look. You know…you never seemed to care before what kind of bikinis I wore. Just saying.”

  “I don’t care now.”

  “Right…”

  “I just think that maybe you should put on a few more clothes. You are the owner; it might help if you looked more professional.”

  Her eyes widened. Shit. Wrong thing to say.

  “That’s not–”

  She put her hand up in the air to stop me. “Nope, too late; you already said it. But let me remind you that I’ve run this bar for a year and a half and it was voted top three hot spots in all the Caribbean since it opened.” She balanced out her hands. “So…”

  “Ysa, that’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m fully aware that you know what you’re doing. In almost everything.”

  She smiled.

  “I’m purely speaking from a possessive and–”

  “Jealous?” she interrupted.

  “I’d call it protective…standpoint.”

  “I’d call it bullshit.” She shrugged her shoulders and purposely dropped the napkin on the floor in front of her. “Oh look,” she mocked. “I better get that.” She bent down on her hands and knees, leaving her ample cleavage to fall forward out of her top, and then sat up on her ankles. “It’s really hot in here. You know…I think maybe you’re right. This is a topless beach, I should probably dress more professional.” Her delicate fingers reached up to the strings tied together at the back of her neck.

  “Do it and see what happens,” I threatened.

  She raised an eyebrow and with one hand, started to pull at the tie. I jumped over the bar, catching her by surprise and propelling her backward onto the sand with me on top of her. My hand caught around her tiny fingers and she laughed. Her eyes were dilated, getting the exact response she wanted.

  “You’re a bad girl,” I breathed out between kissing her. “I think you just wanted me on top of you.”

  “I’ll never tell…” she sang out and tried to turn her face, so I laid more of my weight on her to keep her where I wanted her. She sucked in air when she felt my hand on her inner thigh. “You wouldn’t?” she warned, not turning to look at me.

  “Bad girls deserve to be punished. Should I punish you?”

  She finally turned her face and I looked into her big, beautiful green eyes that were now sedated. She stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head no, pouting and surrendering to me.

  “What do I get if I let this go as a warning?” I cautioned.

  “What do you want?” she teased.

  “Oh, we’re playing some high stakes here, Ysa…it’s going to be a good one. How about you wear some shorts, or even that see through skirt thing that doesn’t really cover anything, but it’s more than what your bottoms do.”

  She gasped, dropping her mouth open in shock.

  “You give me that and I won’t unleash the fury.”

  She laughed. “Oh my God, Sebastian, that’s fucking cheating.”

  “Call it whatever you want, but I’m not the one in the position to have to compromise here. That’s what happens when you fuck with people that are bigger than you and can hold you down until they get what they want. You should have thought about that before you decided to tempt and provoke me. Actions have consequences, Ysa.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine! I’ll wear the sarong three times a week.”

  “Friday, Saturday, Sunday,” I added.

  “What the fuck? Those are the busiest days of the week, when the bar is packed all day.”

  I grinned. “I know.”

  She narrowed her eyes and I gripped her inner thigh firmer.

  “I hate you!” she yelled, laughing.

  “You what?” I taunted, squeezing harder and making her squirm. “I’m sorry, what was that?” I emphasized, squeezing over and over again. She started laughing uncontrollably and getting sand everywhere, kicking her legs to try to break free. I stopped and let her catch her breath, not moving my hand or my hold on her. “Let’s try that again.”

  “Ugh! Fine. Friday through Sunday, I will wear a sarong,” she stated through gritted teeth.

  “And…”

  “What?”

  Damn him! I knew I shouldn’t have provoked him, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a little shit like that. Sex sells and it always will. Just because I’m no longer a VIP doesn’t mean that’s not what still makes the world go round.

  “I hate you!” I yelled, half-laughing.

  “You what?” he taunted, squeezing my thigh harder and making me squirm. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he emphasized, squeezing over and over again. I couldn’t control my movements when he did that to me. I fucking hated it but at the same time, loved the attention. It hurt, and at the same time, it made me laugh, almost violently. The fury and I had a love/hate relationship. I was kicking sand everywhere; we were going to be covered in it when we stood up.

  He finally stopped and I sucked in air and tried to catch my breathing, though he didn’t move his hand from my inner thigh and his weight still held me where he wanted.

  “Let’s try that again,” he reminded.

  “Ugh! Fine. Friday through Sunday, I will wear a sarong,” I agreed, through gritted teeth. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “And…”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “You said you hated me.”

  My heart sped up. Was he trying to get me to tell him I loved him?

  “I know you don’t hate me.”

  Shit! He was.

  “Sebastian…I can’t breathe; I need up,” I coaxed, not knowing what to say.

  His face turned from amused to concerned. He immediately removed himself and held out his hand to pull me up.

  “Fuck, Ysa. I’m sorry. I forget how tiny you are. Are you all right? Was I crushing you? Let me get you some water.” He turned and walked behind the bar.

  I sat down to gather my thoughts; my mind was racing. He quickly came back, handing me a glass of water and took the seat beside me. I couldn’t look up at him; if I did, he would know.

  He grazed my cheek and gently eased my face to look at him. There it was again…

  That connection.

  “I see you, Ysa. You can’t hide from me,” he asserted with conviction and I bowed my head. “Look at me,” he ordered. I did. He placed his hand around my neck, pulling me closer to him.

  I looked into the eyes of the man that held my heart and I knew what he was going to say.

  “I have never felt more complete in my entire life than I do when I’m with you. I know we haven’t talked about it; it’s sort of like we started fresh that first day on the island.”

  “Seb–”

  He put his finger up to my lips silencing me. “I know I fucked up, Ysa. I knew that the second I met you, and when I went home to my wife, it was the biggest mistake of my life. I should have ended it right then and there because from the moment you fell into my arms, I was yours and you were mine.”

  I bit my lip, wanting to control the tears that were at bay.

  “You are my everything. There is no me without you. I started living that second, I was just too fucking stupid to admit it. I always knew it, though…I can’t take back my mistakes. As much as I wish that I could, I can’t. I hurt the one person in this world…” He paused like he was reliving the entire affair all over again. “I was careless with your heart when I had full responsibility for it. I hurt you. I’m so fucking sorry. Just know…” He leaned in, almost to the point that our lips were touching, and looked deep into my eyes.

  “I love you, Ysa. I always have and I always will. That’s a fucking promise. I’m never going to hurt you again. I will prove that to you, even if it takes me the rest of our lives.”

  I couldn’t control the internal battle that surfaced in the forefront of my mind. It was a tsunami of emotions. I loved him. I

knew I loved him. I always have. He owned every part of me. My heart had been his since the first day that our lives entwined. However, the fear that I felt in my mind took over and I just couldn’t get the words to come out of my mouth. My eyes pooled with tears and he reached over to lift my face so I could look into his eyes.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  I looked at him and I no longer had any control over it, the tears broke free and flowed loosely down my face.

  “I know you're afraid. I know you don’t trust me. And believe me when I say that I wholeheartedly understand why. I’ll tell you again, Ysa. You can’t hide from me. You don't have to say anything right now.”

  My heart was racing as I tried to control my emotions. Sebastian took me in his arms, and even though I didn't tell him I loved him, he knew.

  He could just feel it.

  And that’s just how we were.

  It had been a few weeks since I told Ysabelle that I loved her. I wanted to say it since the first day I saw her beautiful face with her flowing curly hair walk to me in complete and utter shock that I was standing before her. As I walked Chance, I thought about that day.

  There was my girl, dressed in a black bikini, with her curly exotic hair blowing in the wind, sitting on a hammock, reading her e-reader in front of her bar. She did it. Ysa does everything and anything she puts her mind to, it’s who she is. I stopped dead in my tracks just to take her in. She was a vision. There was no beauty in this world like Ysa. I found myself catching my breath and bracing myself for the possibility of her turning me away. There was a chance that she would completely shut me out and tell me to go fuck myself from all the havoc and damage I had caused, and I wouldn’t blame her for one second. She had every right to.