Savage Hearts (Club Volare)

by Cox, Chloe

  Patrick Cross’s presence at Volare didn’t look like a coincidence anymore.

  That should have frightened her even more. And it did; there was definitely a core of fear. But Cate was getting angrier and angrier every time Jason did something to scare her, and she was just tired of it. The legal arena was the one place where she didn’t feel like Jason had the upper hand.

  Which meant that now she actually wanted this case. So of course Soren was “firing” her.

  Cate stared at the Norse god of dumbass moves, and clenched her hands into tiny fists.

  “Not the first time I’ve been called stupid,” Soren said, smiling.

  He was smiling.

  She wanted to slap him. Her internal doubts, that little voice that told her she was a fraud every time she succeeded? That sooner or later everyone would find out who she really was, and then it would all come crashing down? It was going insane. It echoed every abusive thing Jason had ever said to her, it echoed every bullshit thing her parents had ever said, it echoed every jerk who’d ever doubted her along the way. Soren had just touched one big, raw nerve, the one directly connected to every fear Cate had about herself.

  “Ford, could we have the room please?” she said.

  “Of course,” Ford said. He stood up, and glared at Soren. “Do not screw up. Do not give me a reason to come back here and kick your ass.”

  Soren held Ford’s gaze but said nothing, almost like he didn’t have to. In the back of her mind, the remaining part of it that wasn’t freaking out, Cate wondered how a place full of dominants managed to function on a daily basis. This could be on Animal Planet. She would totally watch this show.

  “I’ll be right outside,” Ford said.

  It felt like an age before she heard the door close beh> Her own breathing. The way she moved.

  It was incredibly disarming. She had to fight against it.

  God, it was difficult.

  “What exactly is your issue with my legal representation?” she said.

  Soren didn’t move, and yet somehow the man actually seemed to be…pulsing. He was reclined in that chair, his powerful, corded arms draped across the armrests, that white shirt pulled tight over his pecs, his legs spread. It was wordlessly arrogant. Like he owned it. Like he owned everything.

  Finally, he spoke. “There are rules against sleeping with your clients, aren’t there?”

  Cate hissed.

  It almost covered up the thrill that raced down her spine, across her belly, over her breasts. Almost.

  His presumption was outrageous. Yes, obviously, she was attracted to him. He was probably used to that. But attraction wasn’t inevitable. She was an adult woman with agency of her own, and she’d decide whom to sleep with and when; she was not an inevitability, goddammit. She’d spent way too many tortured hours telling herself that after she’d left Jason.

  So it was equally outrageous that she found herself actually considering his question. Of course there were ethical rules about screwing your clients, but they were the kind of thing no one actually cared about as long as it was between consenting adults. The only people who got called in front of the bar for things like that were scumbags who accepted payment in blowjob form.

  Wait, why was she even thinking about this?

  “Wow, you are an asshole, aren’t you?” she said.

  She’d really been aiming for pure outrage, or maybe some righteous anger. Instead she found herself trying to hide the ghost of a smile. Just so sure of himself, so sure that she would, what, fall into bed with him? Like all those other women? The balls on this man.

  So she bit her lip instead.

  Did she hear an actual growl?

  “I don’t want you as my lawyer,” Soren said, leaning forward suddenly, his voice raw. “I want you. Just you.”

  Cate stopped breathing. She stopped thinking. She stopped functioning.

  Holy shit.

  And then: Get a freaking grip.

  It was getting seriously difficult to stay professghtstay prional. That little declaration had hit her like a jolt from above, headed straight for her core. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think about what Soren might want, or that he’d want her in particular. The man was so overtly sexual that it wasn’t a huge surprise to consider that he’d been with many women, or that he might want many women. But there was something about the way he’d said that: You. Just you.

  It felt…personal.

  She had to fight to keep her expression neutral. Somehow it seemed absolutely vital that she not show this man any more weakness than she already had.

  “Maybe so,” she said, trying to hide how good that had made her feel, “but you need me as your lawyer, Soren. I don’t think you’re aware of the situation.”

  He said, “You need to be my sub more than I need anything. I promise you that.”

  She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

  Well, it had happened. Cate Kennedy had been left speechless.

  It was like this thing that had been swirling around her head since she’d first met Soren, this thing that she’d been doing her best to ignore, suddenly crystallized. Like Soren’s words had just pulled it out of the air, made it visible, made it real.

  Do I need this?

  For the love of God, she’d only just met the man, and somehow the idea didn’t seem totally insane. Which was in itself completely and utterly crazy. And yet she didn’t recoil from it, the way she thought she would—BDSM, submission, kink, whatever the hell all of this was, or could be, it was something that only existed for Cate in the most private parts of her mind. It wasn’t something that she ever expected to feel in the real world, with real people, because who in their right mind would trust someone that much?

  Oh God, why didn’t it seem crazy?

  “Cate,” Soren said, his voice calm. Smooth. So damn certain.

  She cleared her throat. “You don’t know Mark Cheedham.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “That’s the point,” she said, shifting in her seat. She’d begun to feel uncomfortably warm, and had to remind herself that Soren was in over his head, and that her ex-husband was probably somehow involved. “You’re not worried, and you should be.”

  “Even if I didn’t do anything wrong?”

  Cate smiled gently. That arrogance was so hot, so infuriating, and so going to get him into trouble.

  “It’s like you think everyone else is honest, too,” she said. “It’s almost kinda sweet.”

  Wait. Did I just flirt with him?

  Soren flashed a grin at her and then hooked his boot under her chair and swiftly pulled it towards his own, jostling her as he dragged her toward him. Cate gasped, knocked right back into the present moment by Soren’s physicality, yet again. It took her a second to realize she’d lost a shoe.

  Then she felt his eyes on her, and she forgot all about…everything.

  “There’s not much about me that’s sweet,” he said. And then he was up, standing over her chair, leaning down. She felt his breath on her cheek, his hands on the sides of her chair, his thumbs brushing her forearms. He was as close as he’d been when he’d picked her up outside, or when he’d crowded her at the bar, only this time, this time, he knew so much more. He knew her in a way no one else did, knew what she wanted. That she wanted. And he knew who she was. He knew both private and public Cate.

  It paralyzed her.

  “And I’m familiar with liars, Cate,” he said, his eyes roaming over her body. How could he make her feel so naked when she was fully dressed? “And so are you. I’m not one of them. No strings attached, complete honesty, total trust. And your submission.”

  He took her hand.

  Cate let herself really feel it for one, priceless moment. She let herself feel the warmth of him, the roughness, the crackling tension that traveled from his skin to hers, the promise of the way it would feel on her hips, her stomach, her breasts. The promise of the way it would feel inside her. She let herself feel
what it would be like to do all of those things he’d told her about with those eyes watching her, seeing her, the real her.

  For a second, it was amazing.

  And then her brain—her obnoxious, killjoy brain—reminded her that he knew too much. Even if she didn’t tell him anything else, right now, as he looked at her—he saw too much. She could already feel herself spinning out of control, could feel the worry, the insecurity, the certainty that this would only be a prelude to finding some way to hurt her.

  The panic closed in.

  “Shit,” she said.

  She snatched her hand back and looked away. Soren seemed to get it—he backed off, making sure she wasn’t trapped, and just watched her from a few feet away.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she said again, running her hand through her hair.

  Soren bent down, and when he came back up he was holding out her missing shoe.

  Like he knew she needed to run away.

  Somewhere deep inside, this annoyed her. It more than annoyed her—it meant he had still won, in sot>

  “Shit!” she said, and snatched the shoe away from him.

  She had always been proud of her ability to seriously book it even while wearing stilettos, and this was the perfect time to show off that particular talent. She stalked to the door, hopping only once while she got that damn shoe on, and made a point of forcing herself to stop and turn.

  Soren was leaning against Ford’s desk, arms crossed, eyes glowing, a smile across his face.

  “This is not happening the way you think it will,” she said.

  He laughed.

  Cate cursed once more for good measure then practically flew out the door. She’d only made it a few steps before she ran into Ford.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Ford said. Crease lines in his forehead marred his movie star face. “I thought you wanted to see the club.”

  Had she said that to him? There was literally no chance she had actually said that out loud to Ford Colson. Were all Doms this sneaky?

  “Nice try,” Cate said. Why was she breathless? “And I don’t know. Maybe. Not now.”

  Ford smiled. Charming when he was caught. Cate was suddenly glad she’d never been attracted to him—he was probably a heartbreaker.

  “Well, are you taking the case?” he said.

  “No thanks to my idiot client, but yes,” she said. “Go explain it to him until he stops trying to fire me. I have research to do.”

  Ford saluted. This time Cate hid her smile until she was back in her car.

  chapter 4

  “Soren, where the hell is your head at?”

  Soren scowled and let his fingers dance over the guitar strings, teasing out a defiant, skittering solo as his answer. The whole band was locked away in Declan’s studio—Declan, Soren, Gage, Brian, and Eric now, too, for an added guitar—and they were supposed to be writing the new album. Actually, they had been writing the new album for a month, and they had nothing.

  It just wasn’t gelling.

  Soren tried not to let it get to him, but the expectations for the band’s reunion had been crazy high. Even Soren had thought that they’d get back together after working out all that

  And it just wasn’t.

  Even more frustrating, Soren knew it was him. Knew he didn’t quite fit. It wasn’t just in the studio, either. Things had changed in all of their lives, for everyone but Soren.

  Or, at least, that’s what Soren had been telling himself for the past month. Sounded like a plausible reason, and like something that would just take some time to fix. But now…

  Where was his head?

  With Cate Kennedy, for fuck’s sake.

  He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since she stormed out of Ford’s office. That had been an impressive exit, even more so when he’d heard her yell at Ford on the way out. He smiled thinking about it—he had no doubt he was in fact an idiot client. He’d never had the temperament for taking orders and playing nice, and he wasn’t going to start now, no matter how legally advisable it was. Cate insisted on taking the case? That was fine by him. Just meant she’d be close. And her trying to give orders just made him want her more.

  Besides, Ford had convinced him that he was pretty much screwed without her. He had to take the best representation he could, if only for these four other idiots that he cared about.

  “Dude!”

  Soren looked up to find Declan staring at him. Gage looked like he was about to take a nap under his drums, Brian was laughing at him, and Eric was just being quietly professional, like always.

  “What the hell, man?” Declan said.

  “Yeah,” Soren said, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t working.”

  “Seriously, though, where is your head at?” Brian laughed. “I bet it’s better than here.”

  Soren smiled. Couldn’t help it. But it was enough—Brian whooped in delight, like a little kid. A sick, twisted little kid.

  “I freaking knew it!” Brian said. “It’s a chick. Definitely a chick. Multiple chicks? Come on, dude, don’t hold out.”

  “Seriously?” Declan said.

  Even Gage was paying attention.

  “All of you can go fuck right off,” Soren said. “This isn’t a slumber party, and who I screw is none of your business.”

  Declan smiled. “Come on, Soren, the only thing you like better than writing your guitar riffs is nailing—”

  “Watch it,” Soren said.

  For some reason he was not in the mood. He knew they were all agitated by how hard it was to write this album, and even though no one would say anything, they were all worried about this stupid lawsuit. Soren knew they needed to blow off steam, but doing it at Cate’s expense wasn’t going to fly.

  Had he really just thought that?

  Soren had to laugh. He was never the white knight type. What the hell had happened to him? Ever since he’d touched Cate Kennedy, ever since she’d talked to him, open like she was, bare, saying things that he understood even if he couldn’t explain why, it was like he’d woken the hell up. The old Soren, the man who used to plow through several women a night, who just couldn’t get enough—he finally, finally felt like that again, only just for her.

  Which felt weird.

  But it also felt like a goddamn fever. He couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop thinking about her and how she radiated need. How it was the mirror image of the things he used to need. If he let himself think about it too much, he’d want to explode. The truth was, when Soren found out the last woman he’d been with had lied to him about a pill addiction then overdosed, it had done more than temporarily break up the band. I had brought back a whole bunch of very personal demons for Soren, most of them having to do with the one woman he never talked about: Julia. And so Soren hadn’t touched another woman since then. It was antithetical to his nature, and it meant he was pent up and ready to explode, but he just couldn’t do it. Not when he feared that every woman would want more than he could offer, and not when he was sure that he wasn’t able to love a woman like she deserved to be loved.

  But Cate?

  Cate didn’t want any of that. He could see it, feel it. She wouldn’t even trust that if he tried to give it to her. Cate might be the only woman on the planet who needed exactly what he could give. And that was a relief, a fucking purpose, and it made him feel lighter than he had in months.

  And it meant he could get laid. Soren was pretty sure he could actually punch through walls at this point if it meant he’d get to bury himself in Cate Kennedy on the other side.

  “Fuck, we have an album to write,” Soren muttered.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Declan asked.

  Soren smiled. So did Brian.

  But it was Molly who got them moving. “Christ, it’s quiet in here,” she said, popping her head in the soundproofed door and flashing that mischievous grin. “You boys forget how to play?”

  Soren watched Declan’s face light up brighter than a s
tage light. It was like that woman could flip a switch just by walking in the room, and it made Soren happy by association every time she did it. Declan had had a rough time when they were kids—the man deserved to be happy.

  >“Soren has,” Declan said with an evil grin. “You wanna come see how we used to write back in the day?”

  Brian was already packing up his bass, and Gage was explaining to Eric. Soren felt himself smile wide—they hadn’t done this in years, and just the idea of it was getting his blood pumping already.

  “Hell yes,” Molly said. “But only if we take the Challenger.”

  “That’s my car,” Soren said.

  “And by the time you’re done with whatever you crazy people are going to do to work your creative mojo, you’ll be so jazzed that you’ll let me drive it on the way back,” Molly replied. Then she buffed her nails on her sleeve and looked up through impossibly long eyelashes, smiling.

  Soren just stared at her. The thing was, she was one hundred percent right. He’d tell himself no one was driving his car, but when push came to shove, if he’d gotten a song written, and he was still thinking about Cate, he wouldn’t give a care. He’d let her drive the 1970 Challenger. He looked at Declan, who was no damn help at all.

  “Sometimes I can’t tell if I feel happy for you or if I pity you,” he told his friend.

  “If you were smart,” Declan laughed, “you’d envy me.”

  Soren thought about Julia and shook his head. Nope. He’d learned he wasn’t built for it. But Declan apparently was, and the man was building himself a family, so that was the kind of thing Soren was going to keep to himself.

  Which was why he was thinking about family as he waited by his car for Molly and Declan to get their asses ready to go. Thing was, Soren almost never thought about his sister when he thought about family. He’d left all that back on Long Island a long time ago and intended to keep it there.