by Brandi Evans
“Armageddon, that’s what happened.”
And just like that, the tears were back, streaming down Viv’s face with a vengeance.
Viv deposited the cup back on the table and buried her face in her palms. Her world had gone topsy-turvy. The man who’d sat by her side as she’d battled cancer had only been there as a favor to her husband. The realization still stung.
She’d been nothing more than an obligation.
“Hey, hey.” Anne hopped to her feet and wrapped an arm around Viv. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. Things will never be okay again.”
“Oh I doubt that.” Anne gave her a squeeze. “I’m sure once you’ve calmed down, you’ll see things can’t be as bad as they seem.”
“No, they’ll be worse.” After experiencing the pure blissful gantlet of emotions in Brock’s arms, how could anything ever be okay again?
“I seriously doubt that. Just remember…” Anne dropped back onto her chair and placed her hand on Viv’s. “You could still be with Eugene.”
Viv laughed through her tears. “Don’t say that!”
“Don’t say what? Something I knew would make you laugh with its sarcastic horror.”
Viv placed her hand on Anne’s, where her friend already held hers. Words couldn’t express how thankful she was to have this amazing woman in her life. “So tell me, what’s the going rate these days for consoling a hysterical client?”
“It starts at a grand an hour, but if I have to dry clean my suits to get snot or mascara stains out, the price really starts skyrocketing.” She winked. “But for a friend, it’s free. Now stop procrastinating and tell me what happened with Brock. And don’t leave out a single detail.”
Viv chronicled the events that led her here. As Anne listened, she rubbed Viv’s back, the perfect combination between friend and mother. Strangely enough, telling Anne about everything that had happened at the club didn’t make Viv feel dirty.
It just made her sad.
She was already growing addicted to Brock directing her passion, but the idea of another Dom doing the same…not only did the notion not do anything for her, it downright made her sad. Had her foray into uninhibited sex ended with the destruction of hers and Brock’s relationship?
“He was only with me because Eugene asked him to be,” Viv said in conclusion. “I was just an obligation. A fucking obligation.”
“Oh sweetie.” Anne gave Viv another friendly squeeze. “I seriously doubt that.”
“I thought he’d come to my side because he genuinely cared for me, not because my bastard of a husband had asked him to.” She fought back another wave of tears as she spoke. “That time was the foundation of our entire relationship, the beginning of everything we are now. At least I thought it was.”
“I know you’re hurting.” Anne draped an arm on Viv’s shoulder and held her close. “But does it really matter why Brock became a permanent fixture at your bedside if, in the end, you both honestly fell in love?”
“Of course it matters.” Viv pushed from the table and started pacing the small space. “I’d never do something like that to him. Never!”
“So you’re telling me you’d never go to him under false pretenses?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Viv threw her hands into the air, accidentally slapping a low-hanging wisteria bloom. “I love him too much to do that to him.”
Anne shook her head, her lips stretching into a thin line. The expression on her friend’s face reminded Viv of a mom who’d caught her daughter in a lie and was just sitting back and waiting for the kid to hang herself. “So just to verify that last statement, you’d never, let’s say, go to Brock under the guise of, I don’t know, having a little revenge sex when what you really wanted was to test your feelings.”
Anne’s words flattened her.
Since the first soul-jarring moment Brock had kissed her, Viv’s emotions had been in a tizzy. He’d wanted her, he didn’t want her. Dominance and submission. Relationship-changing secrets. The list went on and on…
She’d been so caught up in Brock, experiencing things she’d never imagined, the days had flown by in a blur. She’d gone from extreme highs to extreme lows, bliss to despair, and then back again. To put it bluntly, she was the closest thing to an emotional wreck as she’d ever been, which included the emotional fallout of a nearly fatal bout of cancer.
Was it possible, in her frazzled state, she’d overreacted to Brock’s admission?
Anne pushed on. “Like Brock, you went to him under a false pretense. Now, I know your circumstances aren’t exactly the same, but did the fact you approached him under the guise of revenge sex and teaming up to take down Eugene professionally have any effect on your emotional development?”
“No,” Viv gasped through the sudden mass of emotions clogging her throat.
“Did it create some sort of paradox that kept you from honestly caring for him?”
Viv shook her head. She felt as if she’d been put on the witness stand.
“So tell me…” Anne stepped so she was standing directly in front of Viv, hands on Viv’s shoulders. “Is what you did really any different than what he did?” She repeated her earlier question. “Does it really matter why Brock became a permanent fixture at your bedside if, in the end, you both honestly fell in love?”
Guilt dumped a bucket of steaming horse shit right smack on her head. “Oh god. What did I do?”
“You freaked, sweetie. It happens.” Anne’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. “After my first week as a newbie sub, I was so emotionally frazzled I had a complete meltdown in the middle of a five-star restaurant because I swore the chocolate martini they served me was made from a generic chocolate liqueur instead of the Godiva chocolate liqueur the drink menu boasted about.”
“Really?”
“Oh honey, I don’t kid about chocolate martinis!”
Laughter warmed Viv all the way to her core. “Kinda like me and my coffee.”
“Exactly. Us drink snobs have to stick together.” Anne’s expression turned serious again, and she got right back down to business. “What are you going to do about Brock?”
“I don’t know. I still love him, but…” Viv shrugged. “But maybe there’s just too much baggage between us for a relationship to ever work.”
“Maybe. But some things are worth fighting for.”
Viv closed her eyes. Anne’s words rang true. Some things were indeed worth fighting for. But was her fledging relationship with Brock one of those things? It had been nothing but severe ups and downs since she’d exploded back into his life. The ups were mind-blowingly awesome, but the downs…
Viv cringed.
She couldn’t live like this. If this was the trend of what a relationship with Brock would be like, she’d have to pass. She needed sanity.
She needed Brock’s arms around her every hour of every day.
God help her.
Anne broke into her thoughts. “How about I break out my brand-new bottle of Godiva chocolate liqueur and make you the best chocolate martini you’ve ever had?”
“That sounds nice.”
“Oh sweetie, my chocolate martinis are better than nice.” Anne winked. “They’re magical. Drink enough and all your problems mysteriously seem to disappear.”
Laughter pushed away some of the darkness and uncertainty weighing Viv down but not enough. She doubted there were enough martinis in the world to dull the ache inside her chest. The cure for what ailed her was Brock, but unfortunately, he was also the cause.
But which was worse, the disease or the cure? Like the chemo that had saved her life, being with Brock was a total assault on the body.
But was that really so bad?
* * * * *
Brock downed his second glass of Jack but the burn of the alcohol didn’t overpower the burn of Vivian’s words.
You hurt me so much more than Eugene ever could.
With his own emotions blind
ing him back then, walking away from Viv to keep from betraying his asshole of a brother had been easy. Well, easier. Leaving Viv had been far from easy, but whenever thoughts of going back to her and begging her to run away with him had become overwhelming, he’d forced himself to imagine how much better off she was without him.
He’d imagined she’d jumped feet first back into her old life, happier than ever and so very much alive. He’d imagined she’d gone back to designing, full of gusto and vigor, imagined she’d spent her days hanging out with friends or wowing clients, and her nights with a new lover who respected and worshiped her the way a woman like her deserved to be worshiped, the way he’d always wanted to but his stupid misplaced loyalty to his jackass brother wouldn’t let him.
But not anymore.
Call it time opening his eyes or maybe reality finally bitchslapping the stupid out of him, but that fucking bastard didn’t deserve loyalty. He deserved a first-class ass whooping, preferably one of Brock’s doing. He was finished with that asshole. Walking away from Viv because of that rat bastard was one thing. Actually having Viv and then having Eugene—albeit indirectly—rip her away was something totally different.
Oh Viv, what a fucking fool I’ve been.
Brock poured himself another drink. He had to find Viv. More importantly, he had to find a way to win her back, convince her the reason he went to her when she was sick, the reason he stayed by her side had nothing to do with Eugene.
He had to show her how much he fucking loved her.
Ding-dong.
Viv?
Hope surged through him. Every particle in his body came suddenly and instantly alive. Jack spilled onto his hand as he jammed the glass back onto his coffee table and leapt from the sofa. Not-so-sure feet carried him to the front door. He yanked the door open…
But the person on the other side wasn’t Viv.
“Eugene!” Brock stumbled backward. What the hell? His brother never came to his place.
Fuck. This couldn’t be good.
Eugene looked more ragged than Brock had ever seen him. Hair askew, clothes rumpled, unshaven. Dare he say it, his brother almost looked truly devastated but whether that was because Viv left him was yet to be determined.
A slice of remorse fluttered through Brock’s chest, but he nipped the unwanted emotion in the bud.
Eugene barged in without pleasantries. “We need to talk.”
Hello to you too, asswipe.
Brock pushed the door closed and took a precious second to rein in his temper. He needed all his wits functioning, especially with that nagging little voice in the back of his mind…
This can’t be good. This can’t be good. This can’t be good.
No matter which way he spun it, Brock couldn’t think of a single reason his brother was here that didn’t have something to do with Viv. Had Eugene learned that his wife had spent nearly a week with Brock, getting fucked six ways to Sunday?
Eugene dropped onto the living room sofa and got right down to business. “Vivian left me.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Brock said, although he was far from sorry.
Eugene raked his fingers through his thinning hair. “She fucking had me served with divorce papers, and now she won’t even return my damn phone calls. I have to deal directly with her bitch of an attorney. I can’t even talk to my own goddamned wife!”
Brock nodded. So far, his brother hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know. That was a good sign, right?
“And to make matters worse,” Eugene continued, “she took her designs for the McDonald planning interview.” He punched the cushions on either side of him. “Damn it, that job could really fucking catapult my career.”
And it couldn’t catapult mine?
Brock shook his head. Typical Eugene-esque behavior. Only thinking about himself. How could he actually be related to this prick?
“Wow, that’s a tough break, bro,” Brock lied, unable to keep the contempt from his voice anymore.
“That fucking bitch really screwed me over this time. Her and that pathetic little design business of hers wouldn’t be anything without me.”
Anger flashed under Brock’s collar, searing and unforgiving. No one—no one—called Viv a bitch in front of him and lived to regret the mistake. He took two instinctive steps toward his brother before reason stopped him. Maiming his brother wasn’t the answer.
But he had to admit it would be a pleasant start.
Brock sucked down a deep breath and manhandled his temper into submission. Better speed things along. Next time, he might not be able to rein in his hair-trigger temper.
“That sucks, man. I feel for ya. Losing Viv hurts.” And that was putting it mildly. “But it doesn’t explain why you’re here. I can count on one finger all the times you’ve showed up at my house unannounced on a Friday morning—and that includes today.”
“Morning. Shit, Brock, it’s after lunch. Did you just wake up or something?”
“No. I was…” His gaze flicked to the bottle of Jack on the coffee table. “Just wallowing.”
“Ahh. That explains the alcohol.”
Brock bit his lip. His big brother insulting him. That was just par for the course today. What was next? Spontaneous combustion?
Hell, at this point he welcomed it.
Brock finally lost the ability to play nice. “What the fuck are you doing here, Eugene? I’ve got more important things to do right now than play twenty questions with you.”
His brother’s eyes went wide, but to his credit, he didn’t scurry away like the mouse he was. “I need your help, Brock.”
Whoa. Eugene asking him for help? This was unprecedented.
Eugene’s gaze fell to the ground and he looked as if he’d rather chew broken glass than utter his next sentence. “Without Vivian, I don’t stand a chance to win that new executive suite contract.”
No, you don’t. But he kept the thought to himself.
“I know my designs are strong. What can I say? I’m good. But I want an ace up my sleeve. I need something to boost my chances of winning the contract, which is why I’m here.”
Oh no he didn’t.
Brock’s hands fisted at his sides. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed. That fucking, fucking bastard. At every turn, Eugene had made a point to tell him how unworthy he was, how much of a disgrace he was to the field of architecture, but when in reality, his brother feared his talent.
“Let me guess…” Brock’s voice dripped with disdain. “You want me to drop out of the competition so you’ll have that much less competition?”
“No, no. Not drop out.” He pushed to his feet. “I want to form a temporary partnership. With my talent and your—I don’t know—way of thinking, I guess, we can’t lose.”
Unbelievable. Asking for help and insulting him in the same breath. Brock wouldn’t partner with this douche bag even if Eugene threatened to put Brock’s cock in a guillotine if he didn’t agree.
“As tempting an offer as that is,” Brock lied, “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I already have a partner for the McDonald gig.”
Incredulousness seized control of Eugene’s face, his entire body suddenly shaking with uncontrolled anger. “With. Who?”
* * * * *
Vivian pressed trembling hands against her mouth, her heart pounding about a mile a minute.
Oh no.
No.
No, no, no.
Eugene’s Mercedes sat in the curved driveway in front of Brock’s house. He’d finally tracked her down. It was the only explanation she could think of to explain his presence. Eugene didn’t come to his brother’s for chitchats.
Anne’s words came back to her. Because at the moment, that man is pissed.
Was Eugene planning on dragging her back home, voluntarily or no? Or were his motives much darker than that? Had he learned about her and Brock?
Had he come for revenge?
“Oh god.” She slammed her idling Escalade into park and
ran for the front door. Please, god, let Brock be okay. Her husband had always been more passive aggressive, but there was a first time for everything. And god knew she’d given him plenty to be angry about lately.
When she reached the house, she forced herself to stop and think. If she rang the doorbell or knocked, she’d give herself away, and if Brock was in trouble, an interruption might cause Eugene to panic. And if he panicked, Brock might get hurt.
Or the interruption might give Brock the upper hand.
Shit, shit, shit.
She stood frozen for a moment before checking the doorknob. Good. Unlocked.
She pushed the door open and crept inside. The immediate area was clear, but she didn’t have to go any farther before their voices froze her feet to the entryway floor.
“We can’t lose,” Eugene was saying.
She hugged the wall, creeping farther and farther inside. When she reached the living room, she peeked inside. Brock and Eugene stood face-to-face, and judging by the set of Brock’s mighty shoulders, their conversation wasn’t exactly friendly.
But at least he wasn’t injured.
“As tempting an offer as that is,” Brock said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I already have a partner for the McDonald gig.”
Even with apprehension coursing through her, Brock’s words warmed her. Despite the things she’d said, the fact she’d walked out on him—again—Brock was still her loyal defender, forever her champion.
Eugene’s voice sharpened to a razor’s edge. “With. Who?”
She didn’t give Brock a chance to answer. She stepped from her partial hiding spot and forced her shoulder back, spine erect, chin up. “With me, Eugene. Your brother signed a contract with me.”
Brock spun on his heel. The second their gazes met, he smiled. It looked as if a thousand lifetimes worth of turmoil had been lifted from his massive shoulders in a mere second. He took a step toward her—but immediately stopped and turned to Eugene as if unsure touching her in front of her husband was kosher.
She didn’t know either so she settled for flashing Brock a reassuring smile before facing her husband. In all the years she’d known Eugene, he’d never looked so enraged. It was odd. Despite everything he’d done to betray her trust, her love, she still felt raw and exposed standing before him, the man she’d sworn to love in sickness and in health, ’til death do them part—even if he’d taken their vows less seriously than she had.