He shrugged and took another sip of coffee. "That's up to Cris. He'll sleep in the guest room.

Or on the floor or in the garage if I tell him to. Maybe the backyard, if he does anything to piss her off.

If he doesn't like it, he knows where the front door is."

Loren studied him for a moment. "She didn't exaggerate," she finally said. "You really are out for blood." Her expression hardened. "You fucking hurt her, I'll kill you myself."

He moved to the table and sat across from her. "Loren," he softly said, "I'm going to tell you something with the full expectation that you'll probably repeat it to her. Tilly is very special. Only a moron could miss that. I am many things, but I am not a moron. I already told her this morning that if she does try to leave at the end of our arrangement I will be lobbying very strongly for her to stay."

She stared at him for a moment before speaking. "And not because of the money."

He shook his head. "Not because of the money. I also refuse to make the same mistake Cris made and walk out on her."

Her face hardened. "I want to fucking strangle that asshole."

He grinned. "I'm sure that could be arranged. As long as we get Tilly out of the house first so she doesn't stop you."

Loren laughed. "She wasn't kidding that you're a sadist, was she?"

"No, she wasn't."

She leaned in and dropped her voice. "This is between you and me. Are you falling in love with her?"

He didn't care if she told Tilly or not. He nodded. "I believe I am, yes."

"So when I ask you today if you'll love, honor, and cherish her, you'll mean it, right?"

"With every breath in my body."

The women made it out the door a little after eight-thirty. They'd have breakfast on the way to get their nails done. Tilly took her dress with her and would ride to the club with Loren and Ross.

Landry wouldn't see her again until at the club that evening.

He'd prepared a little surprise for Tilly and hired a limo to drive him and Cris to the club and then bring the three of them home. There they would begin Cris' torture in earnest.

Tilly had told him he could unpack his things in her bedroom, and had already shuffled a few drawers around to make room. He was surprised to discover she didn't seem to own a lot of clothes.

There were two distinct personalities in this way as well, what was obviously "Tilly's" wardrobe and what belonged to "Mistress Cardinal." Tilly was fond of baggy jeans and shorts, and oversized, comfortable shirts that hid her shape. She owned a few slacks and casual dresses, and a black multi-purpose formal dress, but not very many clothes, truth be told. Mistress Cardinal owned several corsets and fetish dresses, stiletto heeled boots and shoes, but again not very much. There was still a comfortable amount of empty space in her closet when he moved clothes around and pushed them closer to make room for his things.

She's not a clothes horse, that's for sure.

After unpacking the clothes he had with him, he wandered the house. She'd given him a cursory tour earlier, but now he had time to explore on his own before retrieving Cris. She loved books. The walls of one room, her office he guessed because of the desk and laptop, were lined floor-to-ceiling with books. She had a small room, probably originally a den, containing exercise equipment. Another room was obviously a dungeon playroom for her clients. And a guest bedroom. With a split floor plan, the master bedroom was situated at the far end of the house from the other rooms, on the other side of the living room. The playroom lay at the opposite end of the house, the last room in the hall. Then the guest room, office, with the exercise room closest to the kitchen and living room areas.

He'd have to see how far sound carried. It wouldn't do if Cris couldn't lay in bed and hear him fucking her brains out.

He might have to make Cris sleep on the living room floor just so he could get the full effect.

After making himself some breakfast, he picked up the keys Tilly had left for him on the counter. He studied them. His keys from California, their cars, office, and house, were on the dresser at the hotel.

He'd have to send Cris back to coordinate the move. The office wasn't an issue because he could telecommute. Eventually he'd open another office out here, once he knew how his treatments would go.

He felt a little guilty over not revealing his cancer to Cris sooner, but only a little.

He'd learn about it soon enough.

Landry arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes early and found Cris ready to leave as instructed.

When he walked into the room he immediately unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the bed. "I want my light blue shirt," he instructed as he walked to the bathroom to use the toilet.

In the mirror over the vanity counter, he saw Cris staring at his shoulders, at the claw marks still visible. Tilly hadn't broken the skin but she'd dug in hard, raking her nails along his shoulders in a delicious way even he could enjoy. He smiled at him in the mirror as Cris stood there holding the shirt he'd just discarded, a stunned look on his face. "Is there a problem, slave?"

He shook his head. "No, Master. No problem."

Slave stared after his Master when he closed the bathroom door. His heart raced in his chest. He knew damn well what Master had been up to. Master wanted him to see those marks on his shoulders.

Who the fuck had he been with?

Jealousy raged within him, forcing him to take a deep breath to remain in control and not confront Landry. When the revelation of where he must have been hit him, it startled him out of his reverie and he remembered he was supposed to be getting Master's other shirt. As he hurried to do it, he tried to talk the idea out of his head.

Not Tilly. He wouldn't do that to her.

She wouldn't do that with him. Not his Tilly.

He squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath. She wasn't his anymore. Not since the day he walked away from her and released her.

Then again, he never dreamed she'd become a pro Domme either.

His Master was a sadist. Slave knew damn well how upset Master felt over what had happened, but this...

No.

He refused to jump to conclusions.

When Master returned, slave had the shirt ready and the other put away, their luggage sitting on the floor by the door, waiting.

Master stared at him, one corner of his mouth quirked in an amused smile as he buttoned his shirt. "What's wrong, slave?"

"Nothing, Master."

"What were you staring at when I walked to the bathroom?"

Cat and mouse. It only confirmed slave's suspicions. "The marks on your shoulders, Master," he quietly replied. It wouldn't do any good to lie or say "nothing," because he knew his Master would draw the game out until he admitted seeing the marks.

He grinned. "Ah, those." Master offered no other explanation, but slave knew damn well from his Master's pleased grin that's exactly what he'd planned. A show for his benefit and for Master's amusement.

The slave loaded their luggage in the car. Before he could ask if Master wanted him to drive, Landry slid behind the wheel and started the car.

The slave climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up.

"Did you eat breakfast, slave?"

"Yes, Master. They had a continental breakfast."

"Good." He slipped on his sunglasses before turning to him. "Here are the ground rules for today: you do not speak unless I tell you to. Understand?"

He nodded, hoping that was safe.

"Good." He backed out of the parking space and headed south on U.S. 41. The slave's heart tripped in his chest as he recognized the route they took. The same route as the other day.

He felt the fluorite pendant digging into his hip through his jeans, where he carried it in his right front pocket.

When they pulled into Tilly's driveway, Landry got out and slave scrambled to follow. He didn't fail to notice Master pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the front door.

"Bring the luggage," he ordered as he walked in.

As if he owned the place.

With a deep cold settling inside his heart, slave complied. He wasn't allowed to speak. That meant no asking any of the thousands of questions racing through his brain.

Master stood by the counter and laid his keys there in a familiar manner. "I'll show you where to put your things." He walked down a hallway and slave followed him to a guest room. "This is your room from now on," Master said as he stood inside the doorway. "You will put your things in here. This door is never to be closed unless I tell you to close it. Understand?"

He nodded.

"I'll show you where to put my things."

On numb feet he followed Master. Tilly didn't appear to be home. Master walked into the master bedroom and opened several drawers in a large dresser. A few of his things, the clothes slave knew he'd taken with him, already lay there neatly folded. "You can put my things there, and in the closet." He walked over to a large walk-in closet and flipped on the light. "There." He pointed.

He led him back through the house to the garage. "Laundry is in there. That will be one of your jobs, of course. Not just for us, but for her as well." He led him down the hallway again, to what looked like an office. "Set up my laptop in here, on that desk. I'll be getting another desk and we'll rearrange later."

He left that room, down one more door. The slave needed no explanations for this room's use.

"You might be spending a lot of time in here if you don't behave yourself," Master teased. "Or even if you do." He turned on him, his face hardening. "You have two choices, and only two: stay, or leave. If you stay, you stay under my terms. There will be no negotiations, no safe words, no equality. You gave up all rights to that by your actions. Do you understand me?"

The slave nodded.

"Good." Master headed back to the kitchen, slave on his heels. "Sit." He pointed at the table.

The slave sat.

A legal pad lay in front of Master's chair. He'd started a list on it. He sat and added to it. "You will coordinate moving our things from California. We'll need a large enough storage unit close to the house to put our things. Next week you'll fly back home, arrange the move and a car transporter, and handle any issues at work that need personal attention." He made a few more notes. "I will handle transferring the bank accounts. If they need personal signatures, you can do that while you're out there."

He looked up at slave. "We are living here for the foreseeable future. Make sure when you pack that you clearly label cartons so we can easily find things we'll need here, versus things that have to go to storage. I will not be able to help you unpack, so keep that in mind."

The slave had thought nothing could break through his stunned fog, except that cryptic comment. He desperately wanted to ask what he meant by it and forced himself to remain silent.

After a few more minutes, Master sat back, stared at his list, then turned the legal pad around and shoved it across the table. "Read through that. If anything needs clarification, you may ask about that and nothing else."

He tried to focus on the words and not his emotions. After three read-throughs, he nodded.

Master had been crystal-clear. No explanations needed. He looked up at Master and waited.

Master's green eyes bored into his. "My cancer's back," he said.

Well, he'd been wrong thinking he'd hit bottom. The three words echoed through his brain, seizing his heart in a hard, cold grip.

Master continued, "I have a biopsy scheduled for Wednesday."

The slave hated that he felt the tears in his eyes. He closed them and swallowed, trying to control himself, not wanting to break down.

"The only reason I'm telling you now is because I wanted to be the one to tell you and I know you'll probably hear about it later tonight." He stared at slave for a moment. "You may speak."

The slave looked at him. "I love you," he whispered. "Please don't make me leave. Please let me stay with you and be with you for this."

For the first time, he saw his Master's expression soften. "I'm not going to make you leave.

Well, I mean leave our relationship. You have to be the one to go to California to handle the move because I'll be going through treatments. Tilly will be here for me while you're gone. The Realtor said he has an offer on the house. You will, however, go through your own hell before you come out on the other side. If you choose to leave, that will be your decision to make, not mine." Master looked at him for a long time before speaking again. "I do love you, Cris, but I'm human. You know how I am.

Before I can move forward, I need my pound of flesh out of you for this. It's the only way my healing and hers can begin."

The slave nodded but didn't speak.

"I feel guilty for what we've had for the past few years. I thought I had my angel back. Then to find out what you did to her..." He looked away for a moment, composing himself before returning his attention to slave. "She went through hell because of what you did to her. I can never repay her for that.

I can never give her back the peace of mind she lost when you betrayed her. You didn't just take her happiness. You stole her trust and broke her heart. She deserved better than that from you."

Master sat back, his hard mask descending again. "We will leave here at six-thirty for our appointment tonight. Wear jeans, black shirt, and your formal collar. You will not speak tonight, no matter what is said to you, unless I give you permission to do so. Understand?"

The slave nodded.