by Marie Force
Natalie takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Please don’t. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for why he didn’t come today. We’ll figure out what happened and go from there.”
“You won’t tell him—or Flynn—that I was disappointed, will you?”
“I won’t say anything. Don’t worry.”
Ellie and Jasper come into the living room, smiling and laughing about something. They’re so damned cute together, and Ellie’s rounding baby bump has her glowing with happiness and excitement.
“I’m taking my baby mama home for her afternoon nap,” Jasper announces.
“That’s code for he wants to have sex,” Ellie adds.
Natalie cracks up laughing. “Funny, Flynn uses that same code.”
“Ew,” Ellie says. “Don’t tell me things like that about my brother. It’s gross.”
“There is nothing gross about it,” Natalie assures her.
I cover my ears. “TMI, ladies.” In fact, I’m wildly jealous of their obvious love for their partners and can only imagine what it might be like to have sex with guys like Kristian, Flynn, Jasper and Hayden. Dear God…
“Forget about TMI in this group,” Ellie says. “There’s no such thing as too much information.”
“That’s true,” Natalie says.
“In fact,” Jasper adds, in his delicious British accent, “we believe the more information, the better.”
Natalie pats my leg. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to us. Eventually.”
Smiling at her, I say, “I remember when you used to be such a nice, sweet first-year elementary school teacher.”
She laughs. “That feels like a million years ago.”
“She’s been thoroughly corrupted,” Ellie says. “Listen, if you need anything or have any problems with the house, just give me a call.” She gave me her number weeks ago when she offered to rent her house to me.
I get up to hug her. “I can never thank you enough for this. I know you’re giving me a sweet deal on the rent, and I so appreciate it.”
“It’s not that much of a deal,” Ellie says, smiling.
“Yes, it is.”
“My lady is very handy with a screwdriver if you need anything,” Jasper says.
“Good to know.” His sexy accent makes me want to swoon. How can she listen to that all day and get anything else done besides him?
“Darling,” he says to Ellie, sliding his arm around her, “can we play the handy-lady game when we get home? You know the one where you wear the tool belt and nothing else?”
Ellie rolls her eyes at him. “Sorry about him.” She nudges Jasper to move him in the direction of the door. “Hope you enjoy the house. I love where I live now, but this place…” She shakes her head when her eyes fill. “I loved it, and I hope you do, too.”
“I’m sure we will. Thanks again for everything.” I still want to pinch myself that the kids and I live within walking distance of an actual beach. We’ll be there every day all summer. After glancing at the backyard to make sure the kids are still entertaining themselves, I return to the sofa. “They’re adorable together.”
“They really are. Flynn said he’s never seen her so happy.”
I fan my face. “That accent…”
“Right? It drives Flynn nuts when I get all swoony around Jasper, but I can’t help it!”
“I was just wondering how she gets anything but him done every day.”
Natalie loses it laughing. “That’s a very good question.”
Leah, Marlowe and Addie come in to find us a few minutes later, bringing a bottle of wine and glasses for all of us. We sit around my new living room and talk like old friends for an hour while the guys play horseshoes with the kids in the yard. By the time they all leave, it’s after seven, and I have two very sleepy kids on my hands since it’s three hours later in New York where we began our day.
The kids are sharing a bedroom, which they’ve assured me will be fine. For now. But as they get older, they’ll want their own space, and we’ll have to look for a bigger place to live. We have plenty of time before I’ll need to worry about that.
I see them through baths and bedtime stories from the books each of them brought in their backpacks, and I tuck them into bed. Maddie can’t believe her bed from New York is now in her room in Los Angeles. I worry that they’re too excited to sleep, but when I look in on them fifteen minutes later, they’re both out cold.
I go into the kitchen, my gaze drawn to the half bottle of red wine on the counter. Rooting through cabinets, I find the glasses I sent from New York and pour myself a glass of wine, taking it out to the deck to enjoy the warm evening. I sip the wine, grimacing at the metallic taste that’s a carryover from chemo.
I hear it’ll go away in time, but for now, it makes eating or drinking anything a chore. My doctor in New York has been urging me to start drinking protein shakes because he’s concerned about how much weight I’ve lost. I’ve never been so bony or fragile, which has made me extremely self-conscious about my appearance for the first time in my life. And my weight isn’t the only thing that’s different. My stick-straight hair is growing back curly! It’s the strangest thing. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself.
I’m determined to get healthy again this summer, to put on some weight and to lose the sickly looking pallor that has left me with deep dark circles under my eyes and overly prominent cheekbones. Hell, all my bones are overly prominent. The kids and I are going to take full advantage of the beach we can walk to from our new home, and I’m going to lie in the sun without a single worry about wrinkles. When you’ve battled a deadly disease, you don’t worry about stupid things like wrinkles. That said, however, I’ll still lather on the sunscreen because I never want to hear the word “cancer” again.
I take another sip of my wine, but the taste is so bad that I put it aside and hope my taste buds will eventually get back to normal. I’ve read it can take months for that to happen, and sometimes it never happens. That would truly suck, because back in the day before I got sick, I used to love to eat. I loved my cocktails, too.
My thoughts wander again to Kristian. I hope wherever he is, that he’s okay. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he probably changed his mind about the flirtation or whatever it was with me. Why would he, who could have any woman in the universe, want to take on a skinny, half-bald, single mom who might still succumb to a fatal illness?
I start to laugh, and then I’m crying, tears leaving hot streaks on my cheeks as I try to accept that it’s not going to happen with him.
Now I just have to find a way to live with the disappointment.
Chapter 3
Someone is pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell. I raise my head off the closet floor, where I’ve apparently fallen asleep. Christ, how long have I been here? The apartment is totally dark now, so it’s been hours.
More pounding. More doorbell.
Then someone is yelling for me. “Kris! Where are you?”
Jasper. He’s let himself in. What the hell does he want at this hour? Doesn’t he have better things to do now that he’s engaged to Ellie and expecting a baby?
I drag myself off the floor and take a second to get my bearings after I’m hit with a dizzy spell. When was the last time I ate? Last night? No wonder I’m light-headed.
I head downstairs and turn on a light, my eyes protesting the brightness after so much darkness.
Jasper is standing in my living room. “Where the hell have you been all day?” my best friend asks.
“I was here.”
“Why haven’t you answered your phone or responded to the two thousand texts we sent you? We were worried.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve been down hard with the flu. I was asleep all day and never heard the phone.”
“Aileen was disappointed you weren’t there.”
His words are like a knife to the gut. The thought of her disappointed because of me is crushing. But better no
w than later, when her disappointment would be so much more profound. I’m doing the right thing for her, or so I tell myself. It’s agonizing to stay away from her, especially knowing she’s so close now. “I’m… I’m sorry to hear that, and I was sorry to miss it.”
“You sure you’re all right?” Jasper eyes me with the kind of insight only a longtime friend would have. “You look weird around the eyes, mate.”
“I’m fine.” I will be. Eventually. “You’ve probably got better things to do than check on me. Where’s Ellie?”
“In the car. We’re on our way home.”
“You were in Venice, and you live in Malibu. How is this on the way home?”
“Everyone was worried, Kris.”
I feel bad about that. “Apologize for me.”
“Will you be at Marlowe’s birthday party tomorrow night at Flynn’s?”
Oh God. Is that tomorrow? Everyone will be there, and they’re sure to invite Aileen and the kids. Fuck. “I’ll see how I feel.”
Jasper gives me an odd look, filled with a million questions. But he only asks one of them. “If something were truly wrong, I hope you know you can talk to me about it. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course.” This… This is too personal to share with anyone, even him.
“All right, then. I’ll leave you be. Ring me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I walk him to the door. “Thanks for coming out of your way to check on me.”
“No problem.”
I appreciate what he’s done. I’d do the same for him if the circumstances were reversed. I hate that people were worried and Aileen was disappointed.
And then I’m elated because she was disappointed. That means she wanted to see me as badly as I wanted to see her.
No! You’re not elated! You can’t have her. The voice inside my head reminds me of the understanding we reached earlier, when I decided to stay home rather than go to her. That voice has directed my entire life, and it’s never steered me wrong. I’m counting on it now to lead me through the greatest dilemma I’ve ever faced.
I should eat something, but the thought of food makes me nauseated. Instead, I go upstairs to the master bedroom and lie down on my bed. Closing my eyes, I allow my mind to wander in Aileen’s direction. After all, no one can be hurt if I think about her, right? But instead of her sweet, beautiful face, I see the parade of women with whom I’ve had superficial dealings, most of them sexual, over the years.
In our clubs here and in New York, I’ve worked out my aggressions on willing subs who allowed me to control their pleasure. I’ve bound them, controlled them, fucked them in every way a man can fuck a woman. In the past, my dominance has been all about the mind game, exerting my power to bring the ultimate pleasure.
But I’ve never felt a goddamned thing for any of them. Not one of them has ever stirred me the way Aileen did from the first time I saw her. I’ve never felt powerless around a woman until she came strolling into my life at Flynn’s wedding. I may as well have been standing on a table that she upended, because she knocked me on my ass, and I’ve been there ever since.
I tell myself I was much better off before I knew she existed in this world. Before that day five months ago now, my life was under my control and everything was fine. Since then, nothing has been the same. Of course, I’ve heard about love-at-first-sight bullshit happening to other people. I saw it happen to Flynn after he met Natalie and went off the deep end over her. Hell, I’m a fucking film producer. I’ve seen the movies and read the books.
But I didn’t honestly believe it was a real thing until it happened to me.
I think about the night a couple of months ago when we were hunkered down in my apartment, dealing with the threat levied at Jasper and the rest of the Quantum partners. Aileen and her kids were on their way to LA to visit Natalie and Flynn for the kids’ school vacation when the shit hit the fan. Natalie brought them here.
Aileen walked into my home, and the second I saw her, it was like someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room, proving that what happened at the wedding wasn’t a one-off. No, it was the start of something so far outside my realm of understanding that I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all these months later.
Things like that don’t happen to people like me. Someone as pure and perfect as Aileen doesn’t belong with someone like me.
So, it doesn’t matter if meeting her was like grabbing a lightning bolt with my bare hands. It doesn’t matter that the hours I spent with her were the best of my entire life. It doesn’t matter that I want to do everything I possibly can to make life easier for her and her two adorable kids.
No, the only thing that matters is staying the fuck away from her so she’ll have the chance to meet a nice, normal guy who can give her the kind of life she deserves.
There is nothing normal about me.
I can’t have her.
Somehow, I have to accept that and move on. Oh, and while I’m doing that, I also have to find a way to see her every fucking day at work and at the frequent gatherings with my friends without losing my fucking mind.
I’m trapped in a hell of my own making with no way out. I’ve got to get out of here before I lose my mind. I get up, grab my wallet and keys and head for the elevator.
Club Quantum is rocking. Ever since we let in outside members, our revenue has skyrocketed. If anyone was surprised to find out the Quantum principals run a BDSM club, we haven’t heard about it. People in the lifestyle tend to keep their mouths shut, especially those in our business. Members sign airtight nondisclosure agreements that ensure our privacy and theirs.
Sebastian says something to a guy at the crowded bar. He gets up, nods to me and moves along. Apparently, Seb told him to give his seat to me.
I take his place, sliding onto the barstool and mumbling my thanks to Seb for the Grey Goose and soda he puts in front of me.
“How you doing?” Sebastian asks.
“Good. You?”
“Busy.”
“That’s how we like it.” When my partners started falling like dominoes and stepping away from the club somewhat, I suggested opening it to the public or shutting it down. No sense paying Sebastian and the rest of the staff to run a club that most of us had lost interest in. I’m glad it worked out, because I love coming here. In the fishbowl of Hollywood, I prefer the privacy of our club to the more public options for late-night entertainment.
Despite my high-profile business, I keep a low profile in my personal life and wouldn’t have it any other way.
I nurse my drink and try not to dwell on the anxiety stirred up by Aileen’s arrival. I came here for a break from that, and I’m determined to find a distraction to get my mind back where it belongs. A distraction such as the young woman who stands a few feet from me, watching the action on the floor, her expression an intriguing combination of curiosity and fear—my favorite qualities in a sub. Her shoulder-length curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, plump lips and curvy, sexy body make for an attractive package. If I have a “type,” she’s it.
Taking my drink with me, I get up and go over to her. “How’s it going?”
My presence seems to startle her. “Umm, fine?”
“You’re new.”
She nods. “This is my first time here.”
“What’s your name?”
“Evelyn, but my friends call me Evie.”
“Nice to meet you, Evie. I’m Kristian.”
“I know who you are,” she says, blushing. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“That’s what I get for having famous friends.” Mindful of the million-dollar initiation fee we charge new members to keep the riffraff out, I wonder what she does. “Are you new in town?”
She laughs. “Hardly. I’ve been here ten years chasing the dream. So far, I’ve had quite a bit of success with modeling, but the acting career hasn’t materialized.”
I immediately wonder if she joined the club to gain access to us, but watching her wa
tch the action on the floor, I begin to see that she’s here for the right reasons. On the far left-hand stage, a Dom has his sub attached to a St. Andrew’s cross. She’s facing away from him, and her ass is bright red from the flogger he’s been using on her. Two men are tag-teaming a woman on the middle stage. Her ass is plugged, her nipples and clit are clamped and her Doms are driving her wild with feathers.
The stage on the right features two men, one of them on his knees sucking the cock of the other.
“Have you had a tour of the club?” I ask Evie.
“Sebastian said he’d give me one when things die down at the bar.”
“I could do it if you don’t want to wait for him.”
She glances back at the bar where Seb is up to his eyeballs in customers. “Sure, that’d be great.”
“Right this way.” I lead her through the big room, watching her take in what’s happening on the various stages. “We allow everything but intercourse on the main floor.” Curious, I ask her, “Have you belonged to other clubs?”
“Yes, but none as nice as this one.”
“How long have you been a sub?”
“Always,” she says. “But I only understood it for what it is about five years ago.”
“Do you have a Dom?”
“Not now. I… I recently ended an unhealthy relationship.”
I sense a much bigger story, but I don’t ask her about it. I’ve got enough of my own problems without taking on hers, too. “Do you like to watch?” I ask, even though I already know the answer to my own question.
She nods.
We walk down a dark hallway lined by a series of doors. I gesture to the first door, and she opens it. I follow her into the observation room, where we encounter a scene in progress between a Domme and her sub. He’s a big guy, easily six-foot-two or three, muscular and completely at the mercy of the much smaller woman who has him tied to the four-poster bed. She circles the bed, running the leather tip of a crop up his inner thigh.
His cock is so hard, it’s purple against the pale skin of his belly.