The Princess Sub: Club Volare Boston

by Chloe Cox

  “I didn’t hear that,” Rourke said. “Let me go make a phone call, and they’ll come pick him up.”

  Conor didn’t say anything as Rourke walked down the alley, out of earshot. Just looked, out of the side of his eye, at the man sitting in the back of his borrowed car.

  It was an ethical quandary. Tony was a piece of crap, and he would need to pay, one way or the other, for what he’d done to Sierra. But he’d also shown Conor the truth. And he was going to help put Jared away.

  Fuck it.

  “Hey,” Conor said, opening the car door one more time. “You know something about Jared Fiore?”

  “I told you I don’t know anything, directly, about Jared Fiore,” Tomes said.

  “It was a rhetorical question, dumbass,” Conor said. “And you know it’ll go back to Jared.”

  Tomes didn’t say anything for a second. He shifted himself forward one more time, and looked up at Conor.

  “Ok,” he said. “Say it does.”

  “Just in case you get cold feet, Tony, you shouldn’t feel bad about ratting Jared out,” Conor said. “He was always planning on killing you after the job was done. You and her. Just like he did last time.”

  And Conor shut the door on Tony’s stupid open mouth.

  It wasn’t just a mercy, to let the guy know he was doing the right thing. It would also help shore him up, if he got scared, started to doubt. He’d remember this, and he’d remember to do the right thing. Probably.

  And either way, they were about to take down Jared Fiore, one way or the other. Sierra would finally be safe.

  Conor would just have to break her heart first. Then he’d try to mend it.

  Yeah, about that. Breaking Sierra’s heart. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

  But that wasn’t the thing that kept him up all night. No. It was that damn birthday launch party, and what he needed to do ahead of it.

  He’d spent his whole day off after dealing with Tony coming up with a plan. Making calls. He’d gone and stood in line at the new Walmart and filled up one of Lyons’ security SUVs with the things he thought they’d need.

  Now, with the sun coming up behind him, ready to get in the car and go get her, he had Kane and Rourke standing in front of him looking serious.

  “Car’s new,” Conor reminded them. “No one knows to follow it yet. And Tony Tomes is still in custody.”

  Kane nodded. “We’ve been over the logistics. We’ll have people up at the compound later today to start setting it up.”

  “But that’s not why we’re here,” Rourke said.

  Conor leaned back against the SUV, arms crossed. He’d been expecting this, or something like it. He waited for the other men to say what they needed to say.

  Rourke cleared his throat.

  “You know I’ve been working the money trail,” Rourke said. And he had, to his credit. He’d used his law firm to help with the investigation at no charge. He just wanted Jared Fiore taken down.

  Rourke went on, “That trail is thick. Jared’s way in over his head with debt. I think he was counting on the full inheritance. And I think the people he owes money too were counting on it too. There’s at least one life insurance policy out on her, in addition to everything else.”

  “So Jared might not be the only one who has Sierra in the crosshairs,” Kane said. “And we’re going to need him, and Tony Tomes, to get everyone.”

  Conor said nothing.

  “You already got the stalker,” Rourke said. “Jared’s plan is dead in the water, he just doesn’t know it yet. But if we want to nail him — not just for Mikey, Conor, but for everyone — then…”

  “Just say what you came here to say,” Conor said.

  Soft, but with steel underneath. Rourke and Kane heard him clear as day.

  “You’re thinking of telling her,” Kane said, finally. “About Jared. About Mikey. About all of this.”

  Conor couldn’t help himself. He smiled. Kane and Rourke were good Doms, in addition to being good men. Felt good to have the best on your team, even if they temporarily had their heads up their asses. Keeping this from Sierra had always been wrong, even if it was a wrong in the service of a greater good. It had just been easier to do wrong before he fell in love with her.

  “And if I do?” Conor said.

  “It’s not about what’s right,” Rourke said. “It’s about the mission.”

  Conor hadn’t moved much. He’d just stood there, impassively, his face unchanging as the other men made their case. Now he unfolded his arms and stood up to his full height, towering over even Rourke and Kane. When he spoke, it was softly.

  “Don’t try to tell me what my mission is,” he said.

  “When you came to me with this,” Kane said, “you told me the most important thing was getting the guy who killed Mikey. You said you wanted to put him away for the rest of his life.”

  “I’m still going to do that.”

  “We need what’s in that office,” Kane said. “And we need Jared to be surprised.”

  Conor didn’t like the implication. He didn’t like the idea that Sierra would give it away. And he was done.

  He kicked off the car and gave the boys one last look.

  “I’ll do what’s best for my sub,” he said. “And I’ll fill you in.”

  “Conor.”

  It was Rourke, this time, something in his voice different. Conor turned back around and saw a different man than he’d seen a moment ago. Rourke’s genetics would always make him look like an NFL player in an expensive suit. He stood out among all the fancy lawyers, but his intelligence and his professionalism impressed people the most. He was always on.

  Except now.

  Conor was looking at a man who’d cast off the mask of a lawyer, or even a Dom. And underneath all that, Rourke burned for something. Or someone.

  “Trust me, Conor,” Rourke said, after a moment. “Don’t torture her with something you can’t prove yet. Not if you love her.”

  Conor had nothing for that. The men nodded at each other, stepped back, no egos involved. They all knew what it meant. Conor would decide what to do, and the responsibility for that decision would be his alone. And it didn’t matter that there were no good choices. He still had to choose.

  Tell Sierra, without evidence? Break her heart and ask her to believe the unthinkable?

  Or let the mission go as planned?

  It was only as Conor was driving up to her building, where Sierra was waiting in the lobby with the previous shifts’ bodyguards, that he realized he was only torn up about it because he was already thinking about her differently. Because he had been thinking about her differently. Not as a client. Not even as a sub.

  As a wife.

  Well, he’d gone and messed up by falling in love with the client, and then walking out on her. It was on him to fix it. And this week would be the start.

  He got out of the SUV as Sierra walked out of her building, bodyguards on either side as she wore a light blue sundress, a bag at her side. He’d sent her a text, told her to pack an overnight bag, because he wasn’t a complete caveman. But they hadn’t seen each other since he’d walked away at the hospital. Hadn’t talked. Nothing.

  And she was nervous. Unsure. And still happy to see him. Goddamn, he didn’t deserve this woman.

  “You’re back,” Sierra said, her voice cracking a little, even though she was trying to hide it.

  “I was never leaving, Princess,” he said. “But you didn’t know that.”

  Sierra didn’t know what to say to that. He got the feeling she was used to swallowing her feelings, not having someone point them out for her. It shook her.

  Yet somehow this woman got more beautiful every time he looked at her, and this time Conor took his time looking at her. It was the first time he let himself drink her in knowing what his path was. Knowing he loved her.

  That shy smile, the way she tried to hide it behind pursed lips. The quick light in her eyes, always laughing, playing. They were softer n
ow, like he’d touched something tender hidden deep inside her. And like she’d trained herself not to expect much. Not to expect anything, really.

  Well, she had a lot more coming.

  He reached his hand out for hers and pulled her closer, her face suddenly hidden in his shadow. She could look up at him clearly that way. Could see his eyes as he said what he needed to say next.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Two simple words. More powerful than they had a right to be.

  Conor watched as they worked their way through her, as it got to be too much for her. She really didn’t expect a damn thing out of anybody. That would change. He would see to it.

  But in the meantime he let her come closer, her hands finding the lapels of his leather jacket, her fingers pawing at his chest. She buried herself against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her scent, feeling the softness of her body pressed against his.

  Goddamn. This woman. He breathed her in, and it was like coming back to life, every damn time.

  More needed to be said, but there weren’t words for it. He’d have to show her how he felt. He was going to make it up to his sub, so one way or the other she was going to end this weekend naked, wet, and trembling from aftershocks.

  Sierra blinked up at him, holding back tears. Then she smiled, laughed a little while looking away, wiping at her cheek.

  “What’s this?” she said, gesturing at the SUV. Deflecting. “Why is this an SUV packed up like a family of four is driving to grandma’s?”

  Conor smiled.

  “Close,” he said, and held open the passenger side door, holding her hand to help her climb in.

  “Close?” she said, turning around in her seat. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

  “Granny’s,” Conor said.

  Sierra gave him a look that told him Rourke and Kane had been telling her things. That was fine.

  He was going to tell her a lot more.

  Twenty-Eight

  What a difference a day made.

  The day before had been an absolute roller coaster, and Sierra, as a rule, did not enjoy things designed to make you feel like you were an inch away from death. And the day actually started with Tiffany actually nearly dying in real life, and breaking a little of Sierra’s heart in the process. Which—Sierra was not ready to deal with that. Not even a little bit.

  And then there had been Conor, walking away.

  Sierra couldn’t get the image out of her mind. She’d been talking herself down, trying to convince herself that what she’d felt with him in her bed hadn’t been real. Couldn’t have been real. Because he’d left, and she didn’t really know anything about him, in the end.

  Which was terrifying, because Conor could make her feel things she’d given up hope on ever feeling, and she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him.

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  But it wasn’t like she could control it. For most of her life, Sierra had felt profoundly cut off from people. She was always different, alone — her father and brother had always treated her like a vaguely unwanted alien, and the “America’s Princess” thing had ensured that everyone else was super weird too. So she’d always been on the outside looking in as the people around her had relationships, grew to trust, fell in love. All that human stuff.

  It was only BDSM that had shown her how locked down she was after a lifetime of that. How armored. She wasn’t sure she would ever let anyone see the real her.

  And then Conor had made it so easy.

  He’d just come along and effortlessly made her feel things she’d never felt, show things she’d never shown. He’d led her into the land of the living. The normal. And she had no idea how.

  And she was afraid of losing it all again.

  And then Rourke and Kane had told her about Conor’s sister, and Conor had texted her telling her to pack for the weekend, and the freaking guilt had started in.

  It was like learning about Conor’s sister gave the guilt a foothold. Like, generalized guilt, about everything. And once it had its stupid guilt foot in the door, it fully forced its way in and set up a raging guilt party in her mind that did not quit until Tiffany called her from the detox program.

  “Why are you crying?” Tiffany had said.

  Sierra had burst out laughing.

  “I’m still so mad at you.”

  “That’s fair,” Tiffany agreed.

  And then Sierra had burst out crying. Again.

  “I wasn’t there for you, Tiff,” she’d said. “I didn’t know—”

  “No,” Tiffany had said, loud and clear. It had stopped Sierra in her tracks. “I love you, Sierra, but no, you are not taking responsibility for this. I did this. And it scares the crap out of me.”

  And then they’d talked.

  They’d talked about how Tiffany always did this, how she flirted with destruction, when she was most happy because feeling happy meant she had more to lose and she just wanted to get it over with. How this time it actually scared her to be this close, to know she could have died. How this time was different because she realized she really, really wanted to live. And she wanted to clean herself up, and get her life in order, not for Sierra, and not for anybody else, but for Tiffany.

  Sierra cried from relief the whole time.

  “Sierra, you’re going to dehydrate yourself, I swear,” Tiffany said. “Why don’t you tell me about the bodyguard beefcake who saved my life instead?”

  And then the freaking tears started all over again.

  “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him,” Tiffany said when Sierra was done.

  “I know.”

  “Ok, but how much do you really know about him?”

  “Pretty much nothing,” Sierra said. “Other than that he makes me feel like…”

  “That part I get. Anything else?”

  Sierra sighed. “He was in the foster system. He lost a lot of people. And his sister died. Of an overdose.”

  “Oh.” Tiffany paused. “That might have something to do with the walking away. But it’s still not ok, Sierra.”

  “I know,” she said in a tiny, tiny voice.

  This time Tiffany sighed.

  “Do you trust him?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure you should?”

  “I’m never sure I should trust anybody,” Sierra said.

  “Oh, honey,” Tiffany said. It was amazing how she could make Sierra feel taken care of over the phone, from a freaking detox program, but Tiffany was amazing at a number of unexpected things.

  “You have thoughts,” Sierra said. “I can tell you have thoughts.”

  “I do,” Tiffany finally said. “My thoughts are that I love you, and you are one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known, and you don’t even know it. And you deserve a man who makes you feel the way Conor does and who lets you into his life. You know?”

  And Sierra had known. And she’d agreed. And she’d remembered it all through the night when she only half-slept, thinking about where Conor might be taking her. It was only one day extra — they were supposed to go up to the Fiore compound for the party that weekend anyway. But now there was a surprise. He’d planned a surprise.

  But she still didn’t know anything about him.

  And then, when she finally did sleep, she dreamed of him in her bed. She woke up hot, and wet, and craving him. Needing the feeling of his skin on hers. His weight, on top of her, his scent mingling with hers. His hot, hard cock deep inside her, filling her.

  So she’d basically woken up in a fever.

  And then she saw him.

  Sierra had been waiting down in the lobby of her building with her Day Off bodyguards, who were perfectly nice men who also very much knew that Conor was in charge. Even though they normally followed her around like shadows, she could feel them peel off her as she walked out the door and towards the big black SUV that had just pulled up right outside. Like the force of him was enou
gh to repel other men through some hidden field she couldn’t even see.

  Well, from what she could see, she couldn’t blame them.

  Conor wasn’t dressed for usual body guarding duty. Normally he was in a nicely fitting casual suit, something that would wear anywhere Sierra needed to go, but that would also hide his weapon. Today he was in a leather jacket, a white tee, jeans, and aviators. And Sierra was practically drooling.

  Then he took the aviators off, and Sierra felt it. Literally felt it, as soon as those ice blue eyes hit her. Her pulse pounded a rhythm all the way from her core to her fingertips, and a heat sprang up from somewhere inside her, coloring her chest, her cheeks, her breasts.

  He’d apologized. Said there was more to say.

  He’d held her until she literally felt weak.

  But no really, he’d apologized. No guy had ever done that before. Certainly no Dom.

  And that was how Sierra ended up a semi-coherent mess trying to keep herself from jumping her Dom while he was driving them down to the Cape.

  They joked around and laughed all the way through the city, Sierra teasing him, Conor making promises to do something about it while looking at her thighs, bare and visible in the slightly-too-short sundress she was wearing. It felt easy, and comfortable, and once they got on the highway with the windows down and the sunroof up they fell into the sort of busy silence that let Sierra’s mind run wild.

  Except it wasn’t. Running wild, that is. It was running in one very particular direction, and that was towards Conor. Or maybe running away from him while he chased her—Sierra grinned, closed her eyes, bit her lip. God, just the thought.

  She was trying to remember Tiffany’s warning. Really trying. Because she was right—it was only real if he let her into his life. But all she could think about was the fullness of his cock in her mouth. There was a part of her that didn’t want to talk about it at all, that didn’t want to ever have to go back to real life. And meanwhile, the tiny little adult in her mind was the only thing keeping her from just…

  Making herself absolutely crazy.

  She looked at Conor, his eyes on the road, and wanted nothing more than to find a rule or an order she could disobey.