From Sir, With Love

by Rachell Nichole

  From Sir With Love

  The K Club, Volume 3

  Rachell Nichole

  Published by Rachell Nichole, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FROM SIR WITH LOVE

  First edition. December 30, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Rachell Nichole.

  Written by Rachell Nichole.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Between Sirs Excerpt

  Also by Rachell Nichole

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Leo Hastings groaned, staring at the letter in his hands.

  Brother, I never wanted you to be reading this letter. If you are, that means I’m gone now, and she’s yours. There’s not a soul on earth I’d trust with her except you.

  Leo shook his head. This couldn’t be real. You couldn’t will a person to someone else when you died. That was ridiculous. Even if that person was a submissive in your care. If she was yours to keep and to always take care of. What in the actual fuck had his brother been thinking? Leo clutched the letter so hard it was crumpling in his hands. He took a deep breath and smoothed the handwritten missive out on his tiny countertop. After another calming breath, he tried to get hold of his roiling emotions.

  His brother was dead. That was hard enough to wrap his head around. A fucking brain aneurysm had taken away his big brother in an instant. At fifty-five, Benson had had a lot of life left to live. It wasn’t fair, and Leo would give almost anything to have Benson back, even though they hadn’t spoken in years. But this? How could he possibly do what Ben was asking of him?

  “Damn it.” Leo shoved aside the envelope that had been holding the letter couriered over by Benson’s attorney. It flew to the floor and hit with a thud. What the fuck else was in the large envelope?

  Benson expected Leo to just step in and take care of Evangeline? Like she was a dog that Benson had rescued and was now giving into Leo’s care. It had been over a decade since he and his brother had shared a submissive. He barely even knew Evangeline. How was he supposed to just pick up and move into Kempert Manor with his brother’s submissive?

  It was asinine. “Damn you, Benson.” He read his brother’s words again.

  I know this will be a shock. I also know that I have no right to ask, particularly given how things exploded between us over Renee. Renee. Some days Leo’s pride still ached from that epic failure. He was never romantically involved with his brother’s submissives. He just used to Top them sometimes. They never shared women in the traditional sense. Leo had always been a harsher Dom than Benson, and Benson always seemed to attract the submissives who needed a harder touch.

  Leo rolled his eyes. Until he’d fallen in love with Renee, their arrangement had been perfect.

  I am still very sorry about that, little brother. And for being too much of a horse’s ass not to say it sooner. I never should have let her come between us like that. I should have let her choose you. But I can’t leave my Angel to deal with the grief of losing me on her own. I hope she won’t need you, to be honest, but grief can do funny things to people and I don’t want her to backslide.

  She’s sick, you see. My little Angel suffers from anorexia. I’m hoping by the time I’m gone, she’ll have vanquished the demon entirely, but it’s a Master’s prerogative to worry. So, dear brother, I hope you won’t be needed forever. Just for a little while. To help her cope with my loss, to make sure that she doesn’t let this disease consume her while she grapples with the grief. She’s stronger than she thinks she is, but she’s always had my dominance to keep a handle on things. It’s what first allowed her to break the hold of the disease. It’s been my pleasure to take care of her all these years, and I hope you’ll honor my wish and move home to Spartan. I’ve included a, well, manual, of sorts, for lack of a better term. The kinds of things she likes and doesn’t like. I don’t believe she’d respond to your particular brand of punishment, brother, but perhaps you can follow some of these guidelines for the short-term. I know I’m a terrible person for asking. But can you blame me for wanting to keep her safe?

  “Yes, damn it. I can,” Leo shouted into his empty studio apartment. He looked around at the bare-bones space. Benson wanted him not only to move from New York to Nevada, but to give up this four-hundred square foot minimalist space for that overly-stuffed frou-frou Victorian packed to the gills with clutter? The thought made him shudder. Not to mention the thought of going back to Nevada in the middle of summer did no thrill him.

  I am leaving Kempert Manor half in your name and half in Evangeline’s. I know Charlotte will be pissed. But I have no doubt you can deal with your sister. I’ll miss you, Leo. I know we haven’t repaired our relationship as of the writing of this missive, but I do so hope we will before you’re reading this. If not, I do apologize again. I failed you as your older brother. I just hope you can forgive me and that you’ll honor a dead man’s final wish. Take care of my Angel.

  Leo fought the urge to rip the paper to shreds. He set the pages down and picked up the envelope he’d thrown to the tile floor. He picked it up, realizing there was a binder-clipped stack of papers inside, and a key to Kempert Manor. The old Victorian had been in shambles when Benson bought it all those years ago, just before Leo and Renee had decided to try to be together, without Benson. Personally, Leo thought the Manor was hideous. When his brother had first bought it, he’d often joked with Benson that it looked more like a dusty and dilapidated set of Phantom of the Opera than a typical Nevada house.

  He’d always hated the damned place. Because he was pretty sure Benson had bought it for Renee. That she had wanted it, and he’d purchased the property to try to win her back. When he and Renee hadn’t been able to make things work, he’d left, unable to face the fact that he’d ruined his brother’s relationship. Unable to face his brother at all, in fact. Mere months later, Leo knew someone else had moved in with Benson. It was one of the rare times when Charlotte had called him, to tell him that their brother had lost his damned mind. Leo hadn’t been bothered to care.

  With a sigh, he leafed through the pages on what Evangeline was like as a submissive. For fuck’s sake. Why was he even reading this? How could he actually be considering his brother’s request? He’d already been reeling from the news of Ben’s death. Scrambling to figure out how he was going to even get home for the services without breaking his contract on Wicked, and now here he was, actually thinking about picking up his entire life and moving home. For a woman. W
hen he got to the end of the fucking manual, another handwritten note greeted him, Please, Leonardo, don’t let her suffer because you’re still mad at me. She deserves a chance. Just give her a chance. Who knows, maybe it would be good for both of you.

  Son of bitch. He must be crazy. But he started packing anyway.

  She was shattered. Sir was gone. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Evangeline Turner looked around her room. Their room. Everything about it was theirs. A Master like Benson Hastings should have been as out of place as wings on a fish in a room as soft and feminine as this, but he’d fucking loved it. She ran her hands along the four-poster oak bed, the feel all at once familiar and foreign. Everything felt foreign now. She didn’t know how to live in a world without her Master. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten yet today. Or maybe the day before either. Shit.

  He had been the one solid thing in her life for the last twelve years. The one anchor to the real world that she could never be without. And now, here she was, alone. He’d left her. Evangeline paced through their room, and everything around mocked her. Reminded her of what she had lost. It had to go. It all had to go.

  She lunged at the dresser and swiped across it, clearing it in one shove. Picture frames and Benson’s back-up watch, lipstick and jewelry, pieces of their life together, went scattering to the floor with a clatter. She would start redecorating the house right now. She reached for the wallpaper and stared tearing with her fingernails. She wasn’t even sure the house was hers. But she didn’t care. This was her home, and until such time as someone kicked her out, she was going to treat it as such.

  She yanked at the blue and beige wallpaper over and over again until large sections started coming down with a resounding rip. She didn’t know how long she ran around the room destroying things, but when a loud banging and shouting sounded from somewhere in the house below, she startled, and it was like being awoken from a dream.

  The room came into focus around her in a sharp instant and the mess was... staggering. Paper covered the floor, as did pillows, clothes, more trinkets and jewelry, Benson’s cologne, and shards of glass. Where did that come from? She looked around, and the banging downstairs continued. But she ignored it. She didn’t want to see anyone. Not now. Not like this.

  Ah, she’d smashed the mirror over the dresser. That explained the glass. She had absolutely no recollection of doing that. But as she glanced at her half-shattered reflection, she was instantly glad it was gone. You need to eat, my angel. Benson’s voice was so loud inside her head she spun, half-convinced he would be right behind her, reminding her to eat, reminding her she was beautiful, like he had for years.

  When he wasn’t there, she felt ripped open all over again. And who the fuck was banging on her door? The incessant noise was grating on her raw nerves.

  She rushed through the room, barely paying heed to the broken shards of glass or other debris she had to walk over to get into the hallway. When she was free of the bedroom, a shudder coursed through her, the back of her throat burned, and it was then she realized her face was wet. She had been crying so much the past two days, it seemed she failed to notice when the waterworks started again. She was sure she looked like shit, but she wasn’t going to find another mirror to look at. She couldn’t bear to see herself. Not right now. She knew she was falling back into very bad habits, and she was going to regret it. She could see it coming, the relapse into her disease, but she felt powerless to stop it. She hadn’t felt this powerless in a very long time.

  She froze when she got to the bottom of the stairs. “Evangeline!” a man hollered from the other side of the locked door. Except, the door was partially open, unlocked, held only by the security chain. That door had been locked. She knew it had been. She could see a beefy arm through the side of the door. “Evangeline, let me in, I can hear you’re right there.” The voice was stern and... familiar as hell. No. It couldn’t be.

  “Leonardo?” she demanded. Benson’s baby brother. She had only seen him once, maybe twice, in all the years she’d been with Benson. The last time had been at Charlotte’s wedding. But she would know his voice anywhere. What the hell was he doing back in Nevada? And in her home? He’s come for the funeral, idiot.

  “Yes, it’s me. Jesus, I’ve been stuck out here for ten minutes screaming and banging on the door.”

  She rushed forward. “Move back.” He moved and she closed the door. She had half a mind to relock it and put something in front of it to stop him from coming in.

  “Are you going to let me in?” he demanded through the door.

  She had the urge to pout and tell him no. But what was the use? She was going to have to deal with her Master’s family sometime in this horror show that was now her life. They had as much right to mourn his loss as she did. But it was dreadfully difficult to remember that right now. She was mired in her own grief. Had been steeping in it. It was making her bitter as hell, and it had only been since Tuesday night that she’d gotten the call from the hospital.

  She sighed, and unlatched the security chain before opening the door.

  Leo’s gaze took her in in one sweep and his face hardened even more. His dark brown eyes pinned her with such a Dom stare she felt a shiver crawl up her spine. He had never looked at her like that before. She’d gotten quite a few looks from him at the wedding, enough to know that he disapproved of her relationship with Benson as much as his sister did.

  “You need a shower,” he proclaimed. He paused as his gaze roved down the front of her again. “Damn it.” His voice was merely a growl. He dropped three bags into the foyer and stepped over them to reach her. Then he was holding her in his arms, one around her back, the other under her knees.

  She yelped. “Put me down!”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “What?” She looked down at herself, and sure enough, her right leg was sputtering blood all over the place. Terrific. Just fucking fantastic.

  How long has she been bleeding? Now that she saw the blood, she felt light-headed. Leo carried her through the front entryway and hallway, down toward the kitchen and bathroom at the back of the house. Must be he’d been here before. But not since she’d moved in. she would have remembered that. He gently set her on the counter in the bathroom and lifted her leg to inspect it. She winced, finally feeling the burning sting emanating from her leg.

  “What the hell did you do to yourself, Angel?”

  She froze. “Do not call me that.” Her name was Evangeline. The only one who ever called her Angel was Master Hastings. Which Leo was decidedly not. He shook his head but didn’t respond. He rummaged around in the cupboards until he found peroxide. She moved to get down.

  “Stay still, damn it.”

  “Who in the actual fuck do you think you are?”

  He was reaching for her leg to clean it off and she smacked his hand away. She grabbed the peroxide bottle from his grip and shoved at his chest. “Leave me alone. I’ll take care of this.”

  “You didn’t even know you were hurt. And the bloods started to dry in places. You’ve been bleeding a while. Let me help.”

  “It’s just a cut. God, you act like I sliced off a body part.” She shifted on the sink and got down onto her good leg. She needed to clean this off. Which she couldn’t really do very effectively in her capris. Oh, well, they’d get wet. She hobbled to the tub, all the while ignoring Leo’s hands as he tried to reach to help her. She turned the facuet on and climbed onto the edge. She stuck her leg under the water and couldn’t help crying out at the sharp pain.

  “It’s too hot.” Leo’s long arms reached around her to turn the water handle toward cool and she bit her lip to stop from screaming at him. He was right. As the water cooled, it hurt less rushing over her leg. Damn, the water swirled with red. She blinked, the room starting to go fuzzy. Shit. No. Do not do this. Her vision swam. When was the last time she slept?

  Evangeline’s body swayed forward and he swore as he lunged to grab her before she hit the wall face-f
irst.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked. She didn’t respond. He turned her in his arms, and she was out cold. Not good. Really, really not good.

  He set her onto the mat beside the tub then grabbed some towels with one hand as he held her upright with the other. “Evangeline, sweetheart, wake up.” He cupped her face. She looked a mess. Even without the blood. He was fucked up about Benson’s death, no doubt about it, but she looked utterly shattered. He should have come sooner.

  She looked like she hadn’t slept or eaten or showered since Benson had died. He gently shook her. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.” He wrapped one of the towels around her leg to try to stop the bleeding and propped her up against the tub and wall as best he could. He wet a washcloth and wiped down her face. He splashed a little water there when she still hadn’t stirred. He was going to have to call an ambulance soon. And he knew she would not appreciate that at all.

  Benson’s notes had said over and over again how stubborn she was. “Come on, Angel, come back to me.” Leo gave her a gentle shake.

  “I told you not to fucking call me that.” Her voice was like a whip to the spine. He actually startled at the venom in it.

  But when she opened her eyes, he gave her a smile. “Welcome back.”

  She glared at him.

  “Now hold still so I can see what damage we’re dealing with here, okay?” It wasn’t actually a question, but he tried to make it seem like one. How had his brother dealt with such a temper? Because he had the patience of a saint, of course. Always had. But how did such a bratty sub submit to such a soft Dom? Benson was always the one who cared for and treated his women like gold. He was a sensuous Dom where Leo was hard. Benson was a Mentor, caring for and guiding his submissives as he saw fit, but always with a gentle hand. Leo was none of those things.

  She squirmed in his grasp, but he held firm on her ankle. “I said, hold still.”

  “I can take care of that by myself.”

  “I’m sure that you can,” he said, but he mostly felt it was a lie. By the look of her, she couldn’t really take care of herself at all. He was a smart enough man to let that go unsaid, however. “It will be easier for me to see than you. We should check if there’s something in the cut.”