by Lynda Aicher
Quinn jerked back before she could stop herself. The verbal slap hit its mark and opened a wound inside. Of course she knew what Marcus did. His job had never been a secret, but having it laid out in front of her to analyze was different. She wasn’t ready for it.
“This is not a normal relationship for you to get all starry-eyed over,” Vanessa insisted when Quinn didn’t respond further.
She refused to show how much Vanessa’s words hurt her. Until now, it’d been easy to block out the reality and go with the moment. She didn’t want to think about Marcus being with other submissives and definitely not in front of this woman. “Again. It’s not your business. I left my mother in California for a reason.”
The scoffing laugh held a layer of wryness. “I guess I deserve that.”
“I’m not your sub or your client or even your friend.” Quinn leaned forward, more determined than ever. “You don’t get the right to tell me what I can or should do with my life.”
“True enough.” Vanessa sighed and rubbed her brow again before running her hand though her hair to pull it away from her face. “I just hope you’re prepared for what’s coming.”
The already planted doubt festered. “What do mean?”
“For all extent, Marcus has claimed you.”
Quinn sputtered, not sure what the woman was talking about. Claimed her? The idea was both terrifying and comforting. It was a duel-edged sword that could cut her no matter how she looked at it.
Vanessa tipped her chin. “You’ve had his collar for the last week. He brought you here this afternoon. You’ve been staying overnight at his place. That goes far above and outside of a client agreement.”
Quinn knew that. She’d read every damn word on the contract before she’d signed it. So what was the woman getting at? On reflex, she rubbed the smooth leather of her collar, seeking the security it offered. She’d never worn it outside of the club until today. It’d felt right keeping it on when they went to the store and she’d honestly forgotten about it until now. “This is just to protect me. To keep other Doms away.”
The queasiness in her stomach called her a liar. Or worse, it was the hope that her words were a lie. She wanted the collar to be more, to mean something between them. The other woman was asking too many questions and poking at things that Quinn didn’t want to think about. It was too fragile and for once in her life, right.
Vanessa’s thin smile said as much as her words. “Even you know better than that. A collar isn’t required to keep you safe. Marcus’s standing and presence alone would do that.”
Quinn looked to Marcus. A scowl marred his brow, his pose against the bar stiff. He might have been wearing a purple T-shirt with a yellow-haired Viking on the front and a faded pair of jeans, but he still presented an air of authority that sent shivers down her spine. Was he really hers? When had she begun to think of him that way?
He pushed away from the bar and started toward them, but she gave a small shake of her head. He stopped. His lips pressed in a thin line that told of his internal battle. She didn’t want him to intervene. She could handle it. Thankfully, he seemed to get that because he stepped back and returned to lean on the bar once again. But his attention was still on them.
She drew her gaze away and focused on the intimidating woman sitting across from her. “Do you grill every submissive at the club, or is this special treatment just for me?”
Vanessa studied Quinn before answering. “Whether you want to ignore it or not, you are special. Your reason for being here is completely different from everyone else. You have no intention of staying or being a part of this world for real. Marcus is not someone you can play around with and leave behind, like your other Hollywood conquests. He won’t react the same way.”
“Wow.” Quinn sat back, the dig landing another direct hit. She was used to all kinds of attacks on who and what she was. But coming from Vanessa, a woman she had respected, the cut went deeper than most. She buried the hurt though. Forced it down and found the role that had shielded her from many sharp tongues. “Since your mind is already made up on who and what I am, I don’t see a point in continuing this conversation.”
Quinn stood and gave Vanessa her best scathing glance. She kept the sick heave of her stomach and the clammy flush of her skin hidden behind the controlled pose. “You might be a Domme, but that does not give you the right to tear apart my relationship with Marcus.”
“You’re right,” Vanessa responded, unfazed by Quinn. “But my position as his friend does.”
“I think Marcus would disagree with that.” Quinn turned away and made a casual beeline for the restroom. Years of performing kept her walk steady, her face smiling despite the burning urge to sprint from the building.
The bathroom was blessedly empty, and her facade crumbled almost immediately. The tile wall was cool on her back as she braced herself against it to keep from sinking to the floor. The sterile scent of bleach and flowery toilet cleaner pushed into her nose, triggering the instant urge to vomit. The scent was an automatic button from the phase in her life when purging her meals was the easiest way to maintain her screen appearance.
It wasn’t something she wanted to go back to, but right then it beckoned her. She’d feel better with an empty stomach. It was an action she could control. She breathed through her mouth, blocking the smell and forcing down the urge. Her hands shook before she fisted them tight. A huge mental shove pushed the craving to the background.
The door swung open, and she jerked up, taking a quick step toward the sinks. She went through the motions of washing her hands and pretended that everything was normal. She didn’t see who’d entered. Didn’t want to know. Hopefully, they’d go about their business and ignore her.
She was forced to look up when she reached for a paper towel. In the mirror she saw Cali behind her, a concerned expression morphing her into the caring mother she probably was. She’d gone with a purple sweater and jeans that day and still managed to look both conservative and sophisticated.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice gentle and probing.
Quinn dried her hands and turned around, a smile firmly in place. “Yes. I’m fine. Why?”
Cali studied her for a second then shrugged. “Vanessa can be intense, but she means well. She upset you.”
“No, she didn’t.” The instant denial was automatic. “We were just talking. Nothing major.”
Cali’s light laugher echoed in the hollow bathroom. “You forget that I’m a mother. I can spot a fib a mile away.” She stepped forward and rubbed Quinn’s arm in a soothing stroke that actually eased some of the tension from her. “I’m going to guess that the conversation was about you and Marcus.”
Quinn wanted to deny it. Her response was right there, ready to shove the other woman away. But instead she found herself saying, “How’d you know?”
“It’s what everyone’s talking about.”
The honesty was startling. She didn’t know how to respond. “Oh.” That was the extent of her vocabulary. It was one thing to guess that everyone was talking about her and another to have it confirmed, especially when the afternoon had been so pleasantly normal. For one of the few times in her life, she hadn’t felt like she’d been under inspection the entire time. Guess she’d been wrong.
“Not in a bad way,” Cali reassured. “But it’s rather obvious something is going on between you two. We’re all curious. It’s natural. And not all of us think it’s bad.”
Quinn cleared her throat and tried to hide her shock. And she’d thought Hollywood was intrusive. It was nothing compared to the concerned nosiness of these Midwesterners. The difference, however, was the true concern that came with the probing.
“You don’t?” she had to ask. Vanessa had planted the doubt, even if Quinn wanted to dismiss everything the woman had said. The Domme had also been right about Marcus and his job.
“No,” Cali said. “Just be honest with each other and keep an open mind. That’s all you can do.” Her smile
was full, warm and seemed to reach out and wrap Quinn in a silent hug. “Does he make you happy?”
“Yes.” Quinn didn’t have to think about that.
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand and accept his job?”
Quinn stalled on that one. It was the subject she hadn’t allowed herself to really think about and now everyone was forcing her to do just that even though she still didn’t want to. “Do you accept Jake’s?”
The other woman was silent for a moment and Quinn appreciated that. When Cali answered, her words were slow and thought out. “Yes. But we’re exclusive now. When we first started, it wasn’t something I thought about. I allowed myself to be pleasantly blind to it because I was focused on understanding what I wanted and needed. Jake was the one who dropped his clients. I hadn’t given it a thought, but I was glad when he’d finally explained it to me. By then, I didn’t want to share him with anyone.”
“And what about now? He still works here.”
“Yes. He’s an owner. He’s proud of what he helped build and what the club provides to people.” Cali smiled. “And so am I. If The Den wasn’t here, I’d probably still be a middle-aged woman content with my life but wondering if that gaping hole within me would ever be filled. This club is a sanctuary of sorts to a lot of people. I would never ask Jake to give it up.”
“So what are you trying to tell me?” What was the real point of what these women were saying? “That Marcus won’t give up his clients for me? Or that he won’t leave the club for me?” Surprisingly, she was emotionally blank on both of those subjects right now.
“No.” Cali tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at the ground. “Just know what you want, expect and will be happy with. Your time here is temporary. It’s a fact. Marcus’s whole life is here.”
Damn it. Why did everyone keep reminding her of that? “I appreciate your concern. Marcus is lucky to have so many friends who care about him.” Quinn stepped around Cali to get to the exit. “I won’t hurt him. I’ll be gone in another week, and his life can return to normal.”
“That’s what we’re afraid of.”
Quinn paused, her hand on the door handle. “What?”
“If you know Marcus at all, you know he’s an all-in type of guy. He doesn’t do anything halfway.” Cali let that sink in, the low muffle of chatter a reminder of the people on the other side of the door. “He’s all in with you, Quinn. Everyone can see that.”
“Right.” Quinn had nothing else to say. She jerked the door open and stepped out to see Marcus leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest, face a blank stare that gave away nothing. Her chest constricted, but he didn’t project an air of anger. No, he was just waiting for her. Making sure she was okay. A well of belonging opened up to surround her.
Cali stepped out behind Quinn and handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need to talk.”
Quinn nodded and tucked the paper into her pocket as Cali walked away.
Marcus straightened and extended his hand. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“God, yes.” A weight lifted from her, and she grabbed his hand for the lifeline that it was.
He didn’t ask her if anything was wrong or hound her about what Vanessa and Cali had said. She couldn’t express how incredibly grateful she was that he didn’t push. He gathered her into a hug as the elevator doors closed. The simple warmth of being in his arms was enough to smother the doubts the other women had raised.
Maybe she was being greedy, but right now she was going to enjoy every second of whatever this was.
* * *
“Where do you want to go?” Marcus asked as they entered his loft.
“I don’t care.”
There was a smile on her face, her voice strong, but it was her front. She was upset and covering it up. Fuck, he was pissed. At himself, not her. He should have intervened with Vanessa. Yet she’d indicated she was fine, so he’d let her go. Maybe he shouldn’t have. And when was the last time he’d doubted his actions? That was all part of his control. Every decision and move he made was done with a concise directive that guided his life.
“Okay,” he said, heading for the bedroom. “Let’s grab your stuff and get out of here.” He shoved her things and a few of his own into a duffle bag and they were on their way to his truck. The need to get the hell away from everything related to the club hammered at him. For the first time since he’d moved in, he regretted his decision to rent the loft.
The radio kept the cab from being uncomfortably quiet, but Quinn’s silence was disturbing, and forcing her to talk would only result in an argument no one would win. He was still berating himself for letting the women get to her. He wanted to protect her from the personal attacks and pain she’d endured her entire life. And he’d failed. Damn it. He’d kill Vanessa the next time he saw her. She had no right to butt into his relationship with Quinn.
And yeah, this was a relationship.
The high ring of Quinn’s phone made them both jump. She gave a nervous laugh as she dug through her purse and checked the screen. Her heavy sigh carried over the music before she clicked it off.
“Nothing important?” he asked, worried about the scowl that wrinkled her brow. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed that reaction when she got a call.
She typed out a quick text before she shoved the phone back in her purse. “Just my mother.”
Her attention shifted to stare out the window, the music filling the space for another stretch. He didn’t push her on that either. Now wasn’t the time.
“Where are we going?”
He shot her a glance to see her watching him, a more natural smile on her lips. The streetlights had come on with the approaching darkness, and the splashes of light passed over her features and set her hair aglow.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
They’d had appetizers and snacks during the game, so he wasn’t surprised. “Do you have a preference?”
“Don’t you have to work tonight?”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “That depends on you.”
She shifted on the seat to face him better. “How?”
“It’s the last night on your contract.” He waited for her to respond then continued when she didn’t. “I’m not scheduled to be on the floor, so technically, it’s up to you. We can go to the club if there’s anything you still want to see or learn.”
She stared out the window, and he loosened his tight hold on the steering wheel. He forced himself to rest one hand on his leg in an attempt to project a casualness he didn’t feel. He didn’t want to go back to the club. Not tonight. But since she was the paying client, it was her call.
“We could go to my place.” Her offer was low and carried the barest hint of hesitation.
Her suggestion told him everything he needed to know. Whatever they were building was more than just a club thing. It didn’t matter that everyone thought it was a doomed relationship. This was between them. “How about a movie first?”
“At a theater?”
He caught the real surprise that matched her voice when he took another quick glance at her. His decision was made. “Yeah. When was the last time you’ve been to one?” His frustration slipped away now that he’d found a way to make her happy again.
“I don’t know,” she said. He weaved his way through the traffic and cut a quick exit to get to the closest theater. “Maybe two or three years ago. Honestly, the hassle is never worth it.”
“What? No blockbuster car chases or big-screen explosions for you?”
Her light chuckle blended with the music. “Not unless you count private home theaters, where the screens are almost as big as the public ones.”
“That doesn’t count. You miss the whole atmosphere.”
“Okay, then. What movie are we going to see?”
They debated choices and current movies the rest
of the way to the theater. The earlier tension was replaced by the comfortable ribbing over the merits of horror flicks and the overuse of special effects.
She hugged her jacket around her as they left the car. The air had a chilly northern flow, a firm reminder that winter was almost there. Marcus took a deep breath, letting the crispness fill his lungs. Like the scent of dead leaves, the brisk fresh air always reminded him of football and took him back to the thrill of being on the field, hearing the crowds cheer and the rush of adrenaline that went with the game.
“Do you still miss it?”
“What?” Her question jerked him back to the present. He grabbed her hand and they headed to the brightly lit complex.
“Football.”
“How’d you know I was thinking about that?”
She bumped his arm. “I took a guess based on the way you were rubbing the logo on your chest. It was either that or you were having erotic daydreams about a big, male Viking.”
His bark of laughter had a few people turning their way. He tucked her under his arm. “Not really. It was something I loved while I did it, but there’s no point in dwelling on what I can’t have. Life’s too short to keep looking back.”
They stopped before the listing of movies and time and debated over which one to see, deciding on a romantic comedy that was starting in twenty minutes. The time convenience beat out his action flick choice that wouldn’t start for over an hour.
Her steps slowed and her smile faded as she glanced around at the other people waiting in line for tickets. “What’s wrong?”
She sucked her lip between her teeth, and he was hard-pressed not to chase after it. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair startling white against her hunter green jacket. “Nothing.” She gave her head a quick shake. “I just hope no one recognizes me.”
“They won’t,” he told her, confident in his answer. “No one’s looking for you here. Haven’t you ever bluffed your identity before?”