by Poppy Flynn
Chapter 15
Charlotte threw up again the next morning. Well, retched, anyway. There was nothing left in her stomach and she hadn't eaten since she had crawled into bed after the first bout last night, in abject misery, and cried herself to sleep. She hadn't eaten since the light snack she'd grabbed yesterday at lunchtime, so she wasn't sure why her guts kept protesting. Fear, she supposed, or grief. Maybe a mixture of the two.
Charlotte brushed her teeth and filled a glass of water, taking a couple of sips to soothe her aching throat before she set it on the bedside cabinet and climbed sluggishly back into bed. She didn't have the energy or the inclination to get up just yet. Her eyes felt swollen and gritty and her throat was scratchy from all the noisy sobbing that she just hadn't been able to contain. She had battled it, refusing to give in to the sorrow of losing Jake, because the fucking bastard didn't deserve her tears. He'd shown his true colours and they weren't pretty. She tried to deceive herself that they were tears of anger at his threats, at his lack of faith in her and his refusal to listen and hear the truth.
But her own truth was that she mourned the loss of her relationship with Jake; she cried because she loved him so much that she felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest; he'd hurt her so badly with his distrust.
She'd tried to keep it all bottled up, screwing up her eyes so the tears wouldn't leak out and holding her breath in an effort to stay in control, refusing to give in to the heartache and the pain. But it seemed that the more she fought to keep it in, the more her emotions battled with her head to be let out, until, finally, great heaving sobs had been wrenched from her throat and echoed around the darkened room well into the night.
Now she ran a low-grade headache and her eyes were so puffy she couldn't open them properly. She wondered if it was worth dragging herself out of bed again to find some painkillers or if she could just sleep it off. She didn't really want to move. Charlotte closed heavy eyelids that almost felt like they'd been glued together and comforted herself by pulling her puffy, duck down duvet up around her neck, letting blessed oblivion claim her once again.
The following day found her retching, still, but this time, she knew that her stomach was protesting the fact that she hadn't eaten for two days. Heck, she'd barely even gotten out of bed except to attend to the call of nature and ease her parched throat.
A glance in the harsh light of the bathroom mirror made Charlotte wish she hadn't bothered. Her long hair was lank and greasy and snarled with knots after not being maintained for the best part of three days. Her eyes looked sunken and dull, the shadows under them deep and bruised, and the exaggerated hollows of her high cheekbones just added to the gaunt look of her face. If anyone was casting for a zombie movie anytime soon, she'd have a guaranteed part! The sight almost made her want to flee back to her bed for the rest of the day, except that her stomach was preparing to revolt again and her bed was such a pit of messy, jumbled sheets and bedding that it didn't even look inviting any more.
Instead, Charlotte groaned and twisted the knobs on the shower, stripping the covers from her bed and dumping them in the laundry, along with the oversized t-shirt she'd been sleeping in, while she waited for the water to warm.
Thirty minutes later, Charlotte marvelled at what the miracles of a hot shower and the feeling of cleanliness could do for a person.
She remade her bed with clean linens, put in a load of laundry and then headed to the kitchen to make herself a mug of hot tea—the thought of coffee making her tummy gag—while she contemplated what to eat.
But just those few small things made her feel human again. Human enough to venture out quietly to Club Risqué and see if she could talk things over with Micah.
She couldn't hide away in her bedroom forever. It was time she stopped wallowing in self-pity and tried to sort things out.
"I want you to throw the book at her," Jake growled as he paced the length of Logan Thornton's office in front of Connor and Micah, who were also present at this hastily arranged meeting. "Dig up every single, tiny transgression and hit her with the lot."
Logan frowned, casting a worried glance at his agitated friend.
"You do realise that she hasn't actually done anything yet?" Micah countered, the unwanted voice of reason.
"Hasn't done anything?" Jake bellowed, slamming his fist down on the end of Logan's desk. "How can you say that? She's deceived all of us," he spat. "You and me, the worst—Desi, as well. Not to mention each and every club member whom she may have taken incriminating pictures of!"
Logan rubbed his temple and closed his eyes, not wanting to fuel his friend's fury but knowing his next words were going to. "Technically, he's right, Jake. Charlotte was a bona fide member of the club, so we can't pursue any claims of unlawful entry and nothing has actually gone to print yet, so there's nothing to follow there, either."
Jake stopped pacing and stared at him menacingly, the vein in his temple prominent as his face heated with anger. Logan could honestly say he'd never seen him so enraged, not even when he'd been duped the first time and had so much more to lose.
His job was certainly safe this time around; he'd had more than a decade to prove his worth, and since the incident wouldn't be preceding any major shakeup within the management structure, shares were unlikely to even fluctuate.
Sure, he could understand that Jake wouldn't want the whole scandal being stirred up all over again, but there wasn't much that could be put into print that hadn't already been implied and, in truth, the public were less likely to link Jake Blackwood's name to Charlotte Chapman's by-line, since their association wasn't common knowledge. He could only conclude that the intensity of his friend's wrath came more from his personal sense of betrayal.
Raising his hands in supplication, Logan continued. "I've already had an injunction issued, individually, to all major newspapers and magazines, and collectively, across the board, to cover all the others. That will prevent the publication of names, venues and photographs without signed consent, but so far, there have been no reports of any defamatory articles. I also contacted the editor whose name appears on the email you printed out, but he maintains that he has no formal contract with Miss Chapman and that he had simply heard on the grapevine that she might be selling a story, so they had contacted her to register their interest."
"She won't dare, anyway," Jake snarled, ceasing his pacing and rounding to face Logan. "I've already made it quite clear that I'll crush both her and any lies she tries to spread. She's history, so make sure you start putting measures into place, so I can obtain custody if she's carrying my child."
Micah threw a harsh look Jake's way, but Logan shook his head. "It's not that simple to wrest a newborn baby away from its mother, Jake," he warned. "You're not married so, legally, you don't have as many rights as a spouse."
"No, but I have a lot of money and a good amount of influence. By the time I'm finished with her, the only place she'll be able to work is at a two-bit diner that pays cash off the record, so there's be no way she'll be able to support a child."
"Jeez, Jake, listen to yourself!" Micah exclaimed, staring incredulously at the man who seemed more of a stranger than a friend at this moment. "I'm not sure I even believe half this shit! This is Charlotte we're talking about, for God's sake. Are you really too blinkered to see she has nothing to gain from this?"
Jake spun around and glared at the psychologist. "She has everything to gain, a big, fat fee and a massive scoop that will further her career!"
"She already has a very successful career and she's never been involved with the gutter press like you're suggesting. What she's built for herself is better than that. She's well known and respected, why would she want to take a step backwards? Besides, the woman I know wouldn't do that," Micah retorted.
"Yeah, well, maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do!"
"Will you two stop bickering?" Logan interrupted.
"Hell, no!" Micah replied. "Someone's got to be the voice of re
ason here, before you lot decide to lynch a woman who doesn't deserve it!"
Jake made a rude noise and resumed his pacing while Connor turned to Micah, one eyebrow raised.
Micah scowled back at him and continued. "All we actually know for sure, so far, is that an editor, by his own admission, approached Charlotte about a story. Nothing has been published; none of your sources have any info on any kind of detrimental article that may—or may not—have be written, and Jake, here, didn't bother to stick around long enough to get an explanation."
"You're forgetting one very important point," Connor argued. "That editor heard that Charlotte was writing an article and wanted to get in on the scoop. I'm with Jake on this one; it's far too much of a coincidence that we have a member who has legitimate access to the club and its members, one who is also trained as a journalist and has all the right contacts, at a time when rumours of a hot story are circulating. Our membership is private and guarded and Charlotte hasn't been a member very long. No one would have known to approach her about this, not unless she put it out there, herself."
Micah raised his hands in a gesture of disbelief. "It still doesn't make any sense. There's no advantage in this for her, whatever Jake says."
"Money's a pretty big motivator," Logan put in, mildly.
"Pfft! If it was money she was after, she'd be better off playing the pregnancy angle and getting Jake to marry her, especially since he's already admitted it's a possibility!" Micah scoffed. "As far as I'm concerned, you're all just jumping at shadows because of the past, but personally, I'm going to reserve judgement until I have the full story."
"You need to damn well stay away from her, Micah," Jake warned, his eyes narrowed and tufts of hair sticking up every which way from the number of times he'd dragged his hand through it. "We don't need to give her any more ammunition to use against us."
"Well, that will be slightly difficult, since she's still officially my sub and I have a contract with her. If there's any truth in what you're saying, I'd be giving her far more ammunition if I renege on our contract."
"It doesn't matter, your contract is void," Jake grated tersely.
"I don't think so," Micah retorted in a deceptively quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure my contract with Charlotte is my business."
"Your contract with Charlotte is void," Jake reiterated, leaning forward to get into Micah's face. "Because I have rescinded her membership."
Micah pushed his muscled bulk out of the chair with unusual grace and faced Jake down. "My contract with Charlotte is my own business. It isn't connected to the club, so I will be the one who makes the decisions!"
Jakes eyes flashed with anger as he met Micah head on. "He may not be here, but I'm sure Joel would agree with the rest of us that, as the owners of Club Risqué, it's not in our best interest for one of our employees to be making such dubious associations. I'm sure you…understand," he threatened dangerously.
"Jake!" Logan warned uneasily, standing himself, ready to diffuse the situation. Connor just crossed his ankles and sat back, his eye's ping ponging between the two.
Micah stood toe to toe with Jake, his lips thinned into a sneer. "Oh yeah, I understand, all right," he said belligerently. "I understand that you're acting like a huge fucking ass and I'm sure you understand that this 'employee' is long overdue some time off, and since you're happy to pull rank on me, then you can bloody well sort this mess out yourself!"
With that, he shouldered past Jake and strode out of the room, leaving the door to slam behind him.
"Way to go, Jake," Logan muffled through his hands as he rubbed them over his face and slumped back into his seat.
Jake just shrugged. "Connor can fill in at the club for a few days. He already owes me for pulling his ass out of this shit with Laurel."
If Connor planned to object, he wisely kept his mouth shut after catching the subtle shake of Logan's head.
As Charlotte approached Club Risqué's plain, unassuming façade, which had the building looking more like an industrial warehouse than an exclusive, upmarket venue, she wished she'd had the forethought to bring Luanna or Laurel with her.
Much like her first visit, she wasn't wearing fetish wear but a pale-yellow sun dress. In hindsight, it might have been better to wear something a little more sophisticated. Her long hair hung loose down her back, but the evening breeze ruffled it and sent tendrils fluttering around her face and into her eyes, so she regretted that choice, too. Biting her lip in apprehension, she hoped it wasn't an indication of how things would progress.
It wasn't a full club night, so things would be quiet. There may well be training classes scheduled, but she knew from experience that they didn't normally start this early, so she wouldn't be interrupting. As much as she could, Charlotte had arranged to arrive at the optimal time, ensuring that Micah was available but not too busy. Micah had become one of her few close friends, surely, he would at least hear her out…then he could make her case to Jake.
Charlotte had tried to contact Jake several times. In was clear that he had blocked her number on his personal phone. She had also tried to ring him through his office at Blackwood Universal, only to be told each and every time that Mr. Blackwood was not available and wouldn't be returning any calls that were not strictly business related. She had even considered posing as a professional associate but had eventually decided that if he was being that obstinate about speaking with her, then she was better off appealing to someone a little more agreeable who might petition Jake on her behalf. Since Desi still wasn't due home for another few days, Micah was her last hope. The longer she left it, the more difficult it would be to put things back together, and once Joel and Desi returned, Jake would go back to the head office and a thousand miles would separate them and then it might become truly impossible.
Charlotte resolutely refused to imagine what might happen if this plan failed. She loved Jake too much to let him go without a fight, without trying to make him see that he had jumped to the wrong conclusions. She determinedly put aside the very real hurt that Jake hadn't bothered to listen to her side of the story, that he hadn't cared enough to allow her to defend herself against his accusations. Right now, she just had to believe that there was a way to make things right.
Before she mounted the few steps up to the steel double doors, they opened and a looming, bulky figure was silhouetted against the slash of light that spilled out around him into the gloaming.
In the dusky twilight, Charlotte couldn't make out the features of the man, but the way he filled the doorway with his height and breadth left little doubt that it was Connor Griffin. As she drew closer, she could sense the formidable evidence of his daunting stance as he stood with his big arms folded and his legs slightly apart, the expression on his face drawn into a cold mask. It was clear that he wasn't planning to let her pass, just as it was clear that Jake had already poisoned his mind against her. A shiver of foreboding threaded through Charlotte as she wondered if he had corrupted Micah, too.
Reaching deep for a confidence she wasn't even close to feeling, Charlotte prayed her voice didn't wobble when she spoke. "Good evening, Connor. I need to see Micah." Relief flooded through her as the words came out with well-modulated calm, even though she had to clasp her hands tightly in front of her to stop their shaking.
For a long moment, Connor just glowered at her inscrutably. If he was trying to intimidate her, then it was working, but she flatly refused to let him see it. She stared right back at him, directly in the eye, even as she fought the almost overwhelming urge to give in to her subordinate tendencies and bow her head. Instinct told her that showing her submissive side would fail to buy her any ground in the impending confrontation that she perceived was imminent.
Connor moved almost imperceptibly, subtly making himself bigger and broader and Charlotte's mind did a silent happy dance as she realised that he felt he was losing ground and was wordlessly trying to attain superiority. What he didn't understand was that he never would.
She ma
y well give the gift of her submission to those who earned it, but what she gave, she gave freely. Never again, would Charlotte allow herself to be bullied into subservience. She had spent too many years at the mercy of the Disciples of Modesty not to understand that there was a stark disparity between the two, and as Connor continued to try and use his sheer size and presence to subjugate her, instead of being cowed, Charlotte felt her annoyance rise, injecting steel into both her backbone and her eyes.
This, here, is what was at the very heart of her article. Just because she was submissive, didn't mean she was a doormat. The care and consent that were an integral part of the D/s relationship were as distinct from arrogant supremacy as abuse was to the true nature of BDSM. Being dominant didn't mean being domineering; there were tiny, subtle nuances differentiating the words, but a world of difference in the ideology. That's what she was trying to make the uninformed public understand.
Connor must have sensed the invisible shift in her bearing because, suddenly, he replied, "You're not permitted to enter, since your membership has been revoked."
"All the more reason for me to speak to my Master," Charlotte replied coolly.
Connor's eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. Derision was plain in his voice. "You're contract with Micah is also forfeited," he all but snarled and Charlotte saw a glimmer of the man who had misused Laurel.
Charlotte took a moment to recover from what felt like a body blow, hoping the desperation that was starting to seep into her thoughts wasn't visible on her face. So far, her anger was keeping it from winning, but she wasn't sure how long that would last.
"You'll pardon me if I'd rather hear that from the man, himself," she offered primly. "Perhaps you could let him know I'm here."
Connor took a small step towards her, but Charlotte resolutely held her ground and wondered if she had only imagined the flash of respect that flickered across his strong features.