She stared at him. With her jaw dropped open, she probably looked like a buffoon, but there was little she could do about it at the moment. "But—"
He cut her off. "Bradley manages Top Floor and enjoys doing so. The other two floors have their own managers that seem to be working out rather well, so you'll be staying on Top Floor managing the lounge and the private rooms. You'll answer to Bradley, not me. I won't be your boss in any way. But..." he held up a finger when she began to speak, "I will be your Dom, here at home, at the club, or on the street. Which means, if you start putting in too many hours, I will step in."
"If I take the ten percent."
"There's no option here, Alyssa." He leaned over the table. "You are taking it."
She sucked in a long breath. "Okay. With that, I won't have to work extra, or at the diner. I can afford…"
"School," he said simply, picking up his fork and stabbing at his eggs.
"What?" Had she not been clear on her feelings about micromanaging?
"That's Dad's thing. You can take it up with him. He said you've always felt less than adequate because of your social and economic status. Which I now see he's right. I should have seen that, and I apologize for not paying more attention."
"You apologize? Alex, this is exactly what I didn't want. I don't want to be managed like this."
"I'm not managing a thing." He placed his hand over hers. "I won't force school on you. But a few business classes here and there wouldn't hurt. Especially since we seem to be in the market for a new accountant."
She stared at him in complete awe. Unsure of what to think or how to proceed. "I didn't give that money to your dad for him to buy me a club," she said quietly. "Why can't I pay him back for everything he did for me? The clothes he bought me, the school supplies? One year, he paid for an entire year of lunches at school." Hot tears threatened to fall. Paul had done so much for her over the years, she had to find a way to pay him back for it.
"If you do this, take the money you worked your ass off for and buy in on the club, you will be paying him back. You’ll be living up to the potential he's always seen in you, that I see in you." Alex ran his thumb over her hand. "He didn't do those things in hopes of getting his money back. He did them so you would have a better chance at a better life. And now, here you are. You own ten percent of a nightclub, you might be going back to school, and you live with a wonderful man who would rather murder someone than allow you one minute of unrest."
"What about you? Are you going to keep working two careers?"
"I already put in my resignation at the firm. In two weeks, I'll be down to just one career." His grin lit up the kitchen.
"It won't seem weird? I mean, everyone will know you bought me my share."
"You are buying your share," he said in a firm voice. "It's your money. And another thing, I want that ledger thrown away. I won't have you keeping track of every penny I spend on you, because get ready—I'm going to spend a shit load on you. I've tolerated your lack of wardrobe for far too long. You are going shopping. Hell, we are going shopping." The twinkle in his eye absolved the irritation he forced into his voice.
"You don't like my clothes?" She feigned shock.
"Alyssa, I would much prefer you to wear nothing, not a stitch of clothing at all times, that way I could swat your ass when you get too snarky, and suck on your nipples when you get too lusty, and fuck you whenever the mood strikes me. However, it would appear you do need some clothing. So, as part of your punishment, you will be spending the afternoon with me on Michigan Avenue buying a new wardrobe to my liking. Yes, I'm micromanaging this affair— deal with it. But when we return home, there will be no clothing for the rest of the day.”
He stood and held out his hand to help her from the table. She took a deep breath of him as he wrapped his arms around her. There was no place she felt more safe than in his arms.
"You said part of my punishment?" She pulled back and tried to give him a seductive pout. He only laughed.
"Yes. After we get home, you'll receive your spanking. Then this entire thing will be put behind us and we can move forward with our future."
"A spanking?" She tried to protest, but it could be worse.
"No arguments." His voice dropped, but a sparkle in his eyes gave him away. He would deliver the punishment, and she would accept it. He’d spank her, and he’d make her like it. He’d take the ugliness of the last few weeks and throw them away. A clear mind, open heart would be all that was left once his hands had their way with her body.
She was safe. She was protected. She was loved. She found everything she wanted, and everything she didn't even know she needed in him. He would watch over her, he would love her, and he would never give in to her stubborn pride. Although all debts had been wiped clean, her heart would forever be indebted to him. And she was completely fine with that.
The End
LIBERATED HEART
Chapter 1
"I don't understand." Erin Stamper stood in the middle of the master bedroom she shared with her fiancé, unable to comprehend the scene before her. Jonathan sat on their bed, the open suitcase beside him half-full of haphazardly folded clothes.
"Jonathan." Her voice cracked. Her chest tightened. She was losing him. "We can fix this. Whatever the problem is, I can fix it. I can be better. I can—"
"Dammit, Erin. I don't want you to fix this, or me, or you. It's just—" He shoved his hands through his already tousled blond hair. Dark shadows circled his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well.
By the looks of his sunken cheeks, he hadn't been eating well either. How had she missed this? How had she looked at him every day of her life and not seen this happening to him? To her? To them?
"Look, I know we've kind of drifted a little. You're working a lot with your new job, and my work has kept me busy too. We've missed a few nights out with the gang. Maybe we should set some time aside for us. You know, maybe a little vacation." A quick two-day getaway to remind them what made them fall in love in the first place. They needed a little rekindling. Surely that was all it was.
"I'm seeing someone." The words fell between them so softly, so brokenly, she couldn't have heard him right.
"What?" she whispered. The twist in her stomach should have been the acknowledgement she needed. "What did you say?" Her hands dropped to her sides, and she sank down into the chair at her vanity.
He looked up at her, his dark brown eyes withdrawn and full of pity. "Erin, I'm seeing someone."
A cold, clammy sensation ran down her cheeks. Her stomach lurched as her mind worked through his words.
"Erin—"
"Don't." She held up a hand to ward off any further confessions. "Just give me a second." She took deep breaths, feeling his stare on her, knowing he was growing impatient. He didn't like when she took her moments, when she took time to think through what was happening.
"How long?" she finally asked. Tears built, but she did her best to hold them back. Crying wouldn't help now. She needed to know how far away he'd gotten and work out how to get him back.
"Six months," he stated, his voice flat.
"Months?" She clenched her eyes shut. Suddenly, all the late nights at the office made sense. He had an office downstairs. He didn't need to stay downtown to get his work done. "Why? I don't understand. We're getting married."
"Erin—"
"Is that why you wouldn't set a date? Is that why when I went looking at wedding dresses you told me to wait to buy anything until you got your bonus?" She'd been a complete fool.
"It's over, Erin." The statement was given like a gavel being slammed over an anvil. Over? They were over? Their relationship had failed? She had failed?
"Jonathan, whatever isn't working, we can fix it," she tried again. They had been engaged for over a year. They'd bought a house together. She'd moved out of the city to the burbs for him, to start a marriage, to start a family. It couldn't be over.
He let out a ragged breath and shoved himself off the
bed. She watched him from what felt like another world as he packed more clothes into the suitcase on the bed—their bed.
"Were you even going to tell me?" Her hands clenched into fists on her knees. "I left work early today, but I hadn't told you I was taking a few hours off this afternoon. You thought I wouldn't be home until six. You were going to just pack your stuff and leave—what, a note?" Her voice steadily rose as the realization of what she would have come home to bloomed in her mind.
Jonathan finished putting his clothes in the suitcase and closed it. The sound of the zipper bounced off the walls. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean for it to end this way. I really didn't. You deserve better than this."
"Then don't leave me." She hated how pathetic she sounded, but the world she knew slowly began to peel away from her grasp. Everything around her filled with haze and confusion.
Another ragged sigh. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he pulled the suitcase from the bed. "I can't stay, Erin. I love her."
Erin had heard people explain what a broken heart felt like. She'd nursed Jessica through a few of her own. But until that moment, that second where she watched the man she thought was the love of her life pick up his bag and say those words, she’d never understood the sharp pain. A butcher knife to the chest would have hurt less. Her breath caught in her throat. Tears burned her eyes. Her chest ached as though it had been cracked open.
"I'm sorry," he said again as he walked to the door. Unable to move, to breathe, to focus, she listened to him open and shut the bedroom door. Footsteps echoed through the house as he ran down the wooden stairs. The front door creaked, and the picture frame that hung from the door rattled as he closed it.
"Don't go," she finally whispered into the empty room. His car roared in the driveway, then slowly faded away as he drove down the street—away from their home—away from her.
Chapter 2
Erin sat on her couch staring at the television. The reflection in the dark screen captured her sad state. It was nearly two in the afternoon. She'd finally showered and put on real clothes, but she didn't feel any better. Two days had dragged on since Jonathan's departure. She'd managed to get to work both days, even got a few things done, but it was Saturday, and she had nowhere to be.
Having to get out of the weekly friend dinner the night before hadn't been too difficult. She shot a text claiming they weren't going to make it. No big deal. Alex was busy with his new girlfriend, so Erin was really ornamental at this point—a piece in the background that filled in a spot at the table. She doubted whatever news she missed would be earth shattering, and if it was, they'd keep it from her anyway.
After bumping into Jessica in several of the same classes at UIC while chasing down her English degree, Erin had finally gotten the courage to introduce herself. Jessica’s friendship had come equipped with Kelly and Alex, which made it all the easier for Erin to find her tribe.
But she’d been the last to join the tight-knit group, leaving Erin also standing with one foot on the outside. Conversations between Jessica and Kelly sometimes sounded more like secret code than a gossip session. When pressed, they waved it off as nothing and changed the topic.
Her job at Envious, a start-up marketing company, as a graphic designer had kept her working in the city. Jonathan worked in the city too, but it had been his idea to move to Elk Grove. He’d wanted to raise their family in the burbs, and the housing market had made it the perfect time to buy. Even though he wouldn't set the date for the wedding, she’d agreed with him. They had house hunted and bought the two-story ranch within a month. She loved the house. She kept it clean, and always decorated it to his liking. It had been his home as much as hers, and she’d never wanted him to feel like it was a woman's house. She hadn't wanted him to have a need for a man-cave.
She tried to eat a bite of her cereal, but it only made her stomach hurt. Pushing the bowl farther away from her on the coffee table, she stared at her reflection.
"Well, what a fine mess you've found yourself in." She frowned. Her phone beeped Jessica's notification sound. Not ready to indulge in human contact yet, she left it on the table.
She felt numb walking through the house. Touches of their life together were splattered everywhere. Photographs, vacation mementos, his sweat jacket laying on the armchair in the front room. It was a bit serial-killer-esque, but she slipped her arms through the jacket and pulled the hood over her head. The smell of his cologne still lingered.
Wanting to feel his presence, she walked down the hall to his home office. He worked for a large finance company and had done a lot of it at home at night and on the weekends. They had originally shared the office for when she had freelance work, but he had said he needed his own space, so she'd moved her desk into the spare bedroom.
He hadn't taken anything from the office when he left. She sank into the plush leather chair and dropped her head back, breathing in the room, trying to capture him again. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast? There had to have been signals he wasn't happy. Had she been so consumed with her own life she hadn't seen it? She tried to think back, to find the warning signs, but nothing popped up. Small disappearances now made more sense, but the why wouldn't come into focus. They didn't fight, not really. Their sex life hadn't even been off. He’d seemed as active in that department as ever. No changes, and she hadn't asked for more than he’d been willing to give.
She went to turn on his computer, only to find it already on. He had forgotten to log off. She probably shouldn't, but she clicked on his email icon. Still logged in there too.
Ashley Braggon. His new girlfriend. Dozens of emails from her filled the screen. It wasn't the right thing to do, but she clicked on them anyway. The reason Jonathan had left played out in front of her.
The first few emails were overrun with complaints of how gullible Erin was, how June Cleaverish he saw her.
Why would I want to fuck June Cleaver?
He'd whined about how she never wanted to make a decision, that she always deferred to him and never thought for herself.
"That's not true!" she yelled at the computer screen. "I think for myself all the time. I wanted you to have your say. I didn't want to control us!" Tears burned hot down her cheeks.
Her little dirty secret desires she'd wanted to try in the bedroom leaked across the screen. He'd made fun of them, had called her a freak, telling her about how Erin wanted him to slap her face. "That was one time!" she yelled again. When she’d confessed that fantasy to him, he had laughed at her, so she never brought it up again. "Three years ago," she muttered to herself, wiping her nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.
Naive. Sheltered. Silly. The words continued to cut into her.
She finally turned off the monitor. Ashley didn’t say much back outside of sympathizing with him and making plans for their next rendezvous. At least the woman hadn't joined in on the ridicule. But how could she? From what Erin could tell, she was a complete stranger. A woman he'd picked up at the coffee house down the street from his office.
A familiar ringtone played from the living room, and clenched her eyes shut. What would she tell their friends? Had Jonathan already made the announcement? She was the levelheaded one in their group—responsible, respectable, everything everyone expected her to be. How was she going to tell them she lost Jonathan? That she couldn't hold on to her fiancé?
Hadn't she done everything she was supposed to?
College degree—check.
Meet a boy—check.
Get engaged—check.
Buy a house—check.
Get married—fail.
Tears fell again, but no more sobs. Her chest hurt from the crying. Her face was tight and dry from the constant tears. Another beep. She needed more time. She took a few steps to the loveseat Jonathan kept in the office and curled up on it. She needed more sleep.
* * *
Several days later, Erin stepped off the Metra platform and headed to her car. Work had been a waste of time
. Her mind wouldn't sit still long enough for her to come up with the logo her boss had asked for. She’d decided to call it a day after lunch and head home. Seeing the distraction in her work, Charlie had been all for her getting a fresh start tomorrow.
Although the pain of Jonathan's desertion still lingered, it wasn't the entirety of her distraction. On the train to work that morning, she’d remembered a conversation she'd had with him a few months back. Something about a new business loan for a new club in the city. A sex club, Jonathan had called it, but hadn't given her more detail than that.
Something the burbs had going for them was the ease of traffic compared to the city. She made it home from the train in record time, pulling into the garage before the door was even all the way open. Tossing her purse on the loveseat in the office, she went straight for the filing cabinet. It only took a moment before she plucked the file Jonathan had kept in regard to the club's loan documents.
Top Floor. The permit was for a three-floor night club, each floor holding its own building permits and business plan. Alex's name was on each document, but the only level that had an actual name at the time was Top Floor. The description only stated the club catered to alternative lifestyles.
"That tells me nothing," she mumbled, jamming the file back into the drawer.
But it had given her a name. A few seconds later, with the help of Google, she was staring at the club's website. It had opened several months ago. Alex owned the club. She wiped her eyes and read the screen again. Alex owned a sex club. A BDSM dungeon and nightclub. She sat back in the chair, taking slow breaths.
Alyssa worked at the club with Alex. Kendrick had been listed on the business application as the security contact. Which meant Kendrick knew about the club. Did Kelly and Jessica know? Was she the only one in the dark about this? She'd heard the term BDSM before—hell, who hadn't?—but she never really knew what it meant.
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