His To CONTROL

CHAPTER 15 - SYDNEY

Six months into our arrangement, Jamerson and I have developed a rhythm that feels sustainable.

He remains demanding inside scenes and increasingly honest outside them. When work pressure rises, he tells me before it becomes an instruction. Sometimes I choose to meet the need. Sometimes I tell him no, and he survives the answer without making it my burden.

The lesson appears to hold.

At Cross, another relationship is deteriorating in plain sight.

Angel no longer performs. I don’t realise she is the same Angel I knew from college until a Saturday night in October, when she steps out of a private lift wearing Remi's collar.

Her blonde hair is pinned neatly. Her brown eyes are not.

Recognition hits us both.

"Sydney Ryan," she says with a small smile. "Of all the clubs in London."

"You know each other?" Jamerson asks.

"College," I say. "She dated my cousin."

Angel's attention moves towards Remi before she answers anything else. He stands across the lounge speaking to a member, yet she tracks his position as if connected by an invisible line.

I know what chosen focus looks like. This is vigilance.

Later, while Jamerson attends a management meeting, I wait near the mezzanine curtains with tonic water. Raised voices reach me from a secluded alcove.

Remi has Angel backed into a leather booth.

"You were speaking to that man at the bar."

"He asked for the time, Joshua."

His hand closes around her jaw. "You do not make eye contact with other members."

"You're hurting me."

He leans closer instead of releasing her. "Every breath you take in this building is bought and paid for."

Cold settles in my stomach.

I step through the curtain. "Let her go, Remi."

Remi turns his grey eyes on me. His hand remains where it is.

"This is private."

"Then stop doing it out in the open."

Angel whispers his name.

He releases her with a soft stroke across the cheek he was gripping seconds earlier. The gesture is practised enough to rewrite the image for anyone arriving late.

"We will continue this later," he tells her.

Then he walks away.

Angel wipes at her face. "Please don't tell Jamerson. Joshua is just stressed."

"That isn't stress."

"You don't understand our dynamic."

"Then explain it to me."

She cannot.

I sit beside her and wait until silence becomes safer than defence.

The story emerges in pieces. Remi controls her money. Her schedule. Who she sees. He removed her from the stage and now insists she has no need for work because he pays every expense. He monitors her contraception while refusing condoms, sometimes taking her tablets so she must ask for each dose.

"He says it proves I trust him."

"It proves he controls whether you become pregnant."

She flinches.

"Accidents are bound to happen when you're having this much unprotected s*x under his control," I say. "He is not protecting a kink. He is removing your exits."

Tears fill her eyes. "I want to leave."

The words are barely a sound.

I take her hand. "Then you leave."

"The contract—"

"Cannot make you consent."

"He changed the financial terms. If I go, I lose the flat. He'll make sure nobody employs me."

"You can rebuild work. You cannot rebuild if he destroys every part of you willing to leave."

"I have nowhere to go."

"You have me."

She looks at me then, truly looks, and the fear in her face makes the decision immediate.

We move to the women's lounge, where privacy rules prevent Remi from following. I photograph the amended contract and send the images to a secure folder. Angel gives me access to her flat and lists the documents she needs.

"Tuesday," she says. "Joshua is supposed to be in Frankfurt."

"We pack while he is gone."

"Where will I go?"

"A serviced flat near Greenwich first. Somewhere unconnected to him."

She grips my fingers. "You can't tell Jamerson."

I want to object.

Jamerson has honoured every promise since the office. He is not Remi. Yet Remi is his oldest friend and business partner. Angel's safety can’t depend on whether Jamerson accepts the truth quickly enough.

"I won't," I say.

The lie begins as protection.

It will later become the weapon Remi places in Jamerson's hand.

I call Meg from the corridor. She agrees to help without questions. Then I contact Brian because we need transport that cannot be traced through my company or Cross.

"Tell me where and when," he says.

"You can't mention this to your brother."

Silence.

"Is someone in danger?"

"Yes."

"Then I won't."

We build the plan around Remi's flight schedule. Angel packs one case. Everything else can be replaced. Brian arranges a car. I reserve the serviced apartment under my name.

For forty-eight hours, the plan appears solid.

Then Remi returns from Frankfurt early.