His Submissive (Boston Doms Book 2)

by Jane Henry

  "Right, and everything is all about Heidi, hmm? Well, good for her. But we'll see how long that lasts," Val scoffed.

  Hillary turned to fully face Val. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Val shrugged innocently. "Well, Dom isn't exactly known for being faithful, that's all. I mean, I give your sister bonus points for getting him to propose—I'm sure plenty of women have tried and failed. But really, how long do you expect that he's going to stay with her? She's a sweet girl, but she can't keep a man like Dom entertained for long."

  Fury exploded in Hillary's stomach and she could feel her face flushing. That bitch. Submissive, Hillary might be, but no one was allowed to say shit about her sister. She took a threatening step forward.

  "Hillary, dear!" Louisa walked over and laid a hand on Hillary's arm. "You don't have any seltzer, do you? I'm afraid someone spilled some red wine on the tablecloth and—"

  "Yes!" Hillary said, seizing on the opportunity. "Yes. We have some. In the kitchen. Val and I will go and get it. Be right back."

  "What? But, I don't—" Val protested.

  "Oh, but you do!" Hillary said. "I know you'd love to be helpful."

  Val opened her mouth to protest, then looked at Hillary's face and seemed to think better of it.

  "Fine. Whatever," she agreed, rolling her eyes again and stalking towards the kitchen.

  Hillary marched grimly behind her.

  Once they reached the thankfully unoccupied kitchen, Val rounded on her.

  "What's your problem?" she asked, flipping her blonde waves once more so they fell artfully down her back.

  "My problem is that you are out of control and need to adjust your attitude!" Hillary whispered angrily, not wanting Heidi or anyone else to overhear them.

  Val rolled her eyes. "I only speak the truth. It's not my fault that you don't want to hear—"

  "No!" Hillary slammed the pastry box down on the counter and took a step closer to Val. "You speak the most fucked up lies I have ever heard. You're spiteful. You're selfish. You're jealous. And Heidi is too nice a person to tell you that, but I am not."

  Val narrowed her eyes. "You think that just because you're Heidi's sister that you're some kind of princess? You twirl your hair and Dom gives you Heidi's old apartment. You bat your eyelashes and Tony gives you a job. You say the word and Matteo runs to do your bidding? Well, I don't jump just because you say so!"

  Hillary shook her head. "That's pathetic. Do you even hear yourself? All you think about when you interact with someone is what they can do for you."

  Val flushed red. "Fuck you. I'm good to Tony. I do—"

  Hillary held up a hand to stop her. "I really don't want to know anything about you and Tony. I just want you to understand that if I hear, directly or indirectly, that you have spoken one word about my sister or Dom, I will slap you myself. Do you understand?"

  Val glanced nervously at Hillary's hand, and Hillary realized that she'd been brandishing her tongs like a weapon. She quickly set them down on the counter next to the box.

  Oops.

  Val swallowed and nodded. "Whatever. Fine."

  Hillary nodded once. "Want to do a good deed, then?" She opened the pantry cabinet and took out a bottle of seltzer and a rag.

  Val rolled her eyes and stalked out.

  "Yep. Didn't think so," Hillary said with a sigh.

  She leaned against the counter for a moment, looking down at her adorable shoes with loathing. Why couldn't they make shoes that were cute and comfortable? The upside of hosting the party, though, was that her entire shoe collection was just down the hall.

  She left the rag and seltzer on the counter and detoured down the short hallway to her room. Inside, it was blessedly calm and quiet. She wished she could grab Matteo and hide away in here for an hour. Or ten.

  Later, she told herself.

  She kicked off her shoes and opened the closet door wide. Flip-flops would probably not be appropriate, right? She settled on a pair of black backless flats and had just slipped her feet into them when the door to her room opened and then shut.

  "All right, what gives, Matt?" It was Dom's voice, deep like Matteo's but raspier. "You can't give me a vague-ass warning like 'Stay away from The Club' without giving me the details, brother."

  She heard Matteo sigh.

  "You want to get into this here and now? Fine. But what I'm about to tell you isn't public knowledge. I don't need anyone else catching wind and freaking out," Matteo warned.

  Shit… The closet door hid her from sight and they didn't know she was there. She took a breath to announce her presence, when Dom spoke again.

  "If fucking Marauder is making trouble again, I think everyone should know."

  That name froze Hillary to the spot, a blend of anger and terror paralyzing her. Marauder was back? She gripped the door frame behind her for support.

  "Nah. It's not like last time, Dom. It's not random. At least, not that I can tell. If he's still doing what he did to Hillary, luring random girls to Black Box or some other club, he's operating way under the radar."

  God, the idea of that guy on the loose, preying on some other girl who was curious about BDSM made her physically ill. If he was still active, why hadn't Matteo told her? Why was Matt hiding information? She needed to know this stuff!

  "A tiger doesn't change his stripes," Dom warned. "He's a sick piece of shit, and if he did it once, you know he's doing it again."

  "Yeah," Matteo admitted. "Probably. And it pisses me off that we don't have enough proof to get him locked away. But that's not what I'm worried about right now."

  "Talk," Dom said. She could picture him with his arms folded across his chest.

  "So… you know The Club is a fairly tame place," Matt began.

  Dom made a noise of disagreement.

  "Dom, you've been to Black Box. You know what I'm talking about. At The Club, we don't do public sex. We don't do blood or fluids or any of that shit. We don't tolerate anything that's not safe, sane, and consensual."

  If only Hillary had known the difference last spring. She pressed a hand to her churning stomach.

  "I get you," Dom agreed. "And everyone who goes there knows that."

  "Right. We don't get a lot of shit about enforcing those rules because people who are interested in the hardcore kink head to Black Box, or that dungeon place up on the North Shore, or that other place down the Cape. We haven't had to be that vigilant about who can join—the whole point is to be open for people who are curious about the lifestyle. But suddenly, a few weeks ago, we started having issues every fucking night."

  "Like what?"

  "Like a domme doing fucking knife play in the Lower Hall. Like a submissive being forcibly gagged by a dominant against her will. Like another submissive getting high as a fucking kite in the bathroom because someone gave him drugs that were supposed to be an herbal supplement to enhance his experience."

  "All this shit is from new members?" Dom asked. "Then ban their asses. Problem solved."

  "Now, why didn't I think of that?" Matteo said scathingly. "It's not that easy, Dom. The sub who was drugged can't ID the person who gave him the drugs, and he didn't think he was doing anything wrong because he thought he was taking an herbal supplement—a vitamin."

  Hillary could almost hear Matteo rolling his eyes.

  "Not to mention, the guy is Gigi's sub," Matteo continued.

  She heard Dom suck in a breath.

  "Exactly. Gigi is one of the first members of the fucking place. Blake respects the hell out of her. He's not going to kick her out, and he's gonna think long and hard before he bans her sub. Gigi was absolutely fucking livid about the whole experience and is complaining to anyone who will listen that her sub is a victim."

  "Shit," Dom said.

  "Fucking PR nightmare," Matteo agreed. "And it goes deeper than that."

  She heard a thump and peeked through the gap between the closet door and the door frame to see Matteo leaning heavily against the wall, running a hand
over his hair.

  "The other night, there was an incident in the Red Room. A dom was caning a submissive, Laurie, who'd agreed to be part of a scene… and then continued to cane her even after she was screaming 'Red'."

  Hillary was shocked. Everyone knew that 'Red' was the universal safe word. The dominant should've stopped immediately, unless he was an asshole like Marauder.

  "What the fuck?" Dom breathed.

  "Yeah, Slay hauled the guy into Blake's office and asked him that very question. And the guy tells Blake, 'I was just doing what your email said!' Apparently, this guy got an email from Blake that said they were suspending consent in that room for that night."

  "Suspending consent? And he believed it?" Dom asked skeptically.

  "Yep. I mean, you know there are a few girls who do get off on that shit, even though it's not allowed at The Club. And God knows, there are plenty of guys who wanna believe that all girls get off on that shit. So, this guy thinks he's doing what the girl wants, right? He's giving it to her good."

  "Christ," Dom said.

  "Exactly," Matteo agreed. "Wanna know the kicker? The guy was Manny."

  "Manny?" Dom repeated blankly. "The Hawaiian guy? Jesus, he's been there for years. Even before we started going!"

  "Well, before you started going, but yeah. Fucking years. And the email looked legit, like one of those advertising emails the club sends out when they're having a special demonstration or something. I've gotta say, if I didn't know Blake personally and know he would never condone something like that, I might have believed it."

  "Did they report it to the police?"

  Matteo snorted. "Yeah, you know how that went, right? They think it's a 'prank'. Laurie didn't press charges. Fortunately, she wasn't badly hurt—at least not physically. And after Blake told him the email wasn't real, Manny practically got on his knees to apologize to her, he was so fucking horrified. Laurie forgave him and he's become her personal club bodyguard."

  "As he should," Dom said, menace in his voice. "Who believes that shit without verifying with Blake and with the sub herself?"

  "Yeah, absolutely, Manny was an idiot. But the fact remains, someone wanted to plant a seed and provoke violence. Blake's wife, she's an IT guru, and she looked into the emails. Doesn't look like they hacked our email servers or member list, which is crucial."

  "Thank God. What a shit storm that would be. For all of us," Dom said.

  "Truth," Matteo agreed. "But whoever was behind this clearly knows several people close to The Club well enough to have gotten their email addresses in some other way. And they rigged an account that was only a couple of letters off from The Club's real email address. No one would think to check that stuff when reading an email."

  "Did Blake's wife trace the email?"

  "Yup. She did some stuff that was, ah, not strictly legal, and managed to find a connection between this email and one of Marauder's old accounts."

  Marauder. God. Hillary gripped the door frame more tightly.

  "Meaning this shit is targeted," Dom concluded.

  Targeted? What did that mean?

  "That's the conclusion I came to. Blake wants me to work with Slay and a couple of other guys—Thorn, maybe Charlie," Matteo told him.

  "Slay, Thorn, and Charlie don't work for The Club," Dom observed.

  "I know. Blake and I think it's better that way," Matt replied. "We need guys who are dependable but aren't known to be affiliated with us—they'll hear things we won't. Slay, especially, since he's working at Black Box and Marauder may have friends there. But it's gonna take a while. The asshole is smarter this time around, and that means he's more dangerous."

  Hillary personally felt he'd been dangerous enough before.

  Dom nodded. "And in the meantime…"

  "In the meantime, we've gotta be extra vigilant," Matteo said. "Don't go near The Club. Don't let Heidi near it. And keep your eyes open."

  "Done," Dom said. "You'll let me know if you need help." It was a statement, not a question.

  "Dom?" Heidi's calm voice came from outside the bedroom door, accompanied by a soft knock. "Sorry to interrupt, honey, but it's almost time to open gifts."

  Crap. The gifts! Hillary should be out there, ready to write things down and do her bridesmaid duty! How would she get out of here without being seen?

  Hillary heard Dom open the bedroom door, and saw him smile when her sister appeared in the doorway.

  "What's going on, boys?" Heidi asked. Her tone was light, but Hillary could see that she looked a little worried.

  She didn't know the half of it.

  "Just secret Angelico stuff," Matteo told her with a wink.

  Heidi snickered, and Dom wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

  "Oh, really? Figuring out how to save the world?" she asked Matteo.

  "You know it, Heids," Matteo told her. "We'd tell you, but then we'd have to kill you. Or Dom would have to spank you, at the very least."

  Dom cuffed Matteo lightly on the back of the head, as Heidi blushed and Matteo chuckled.

  "A few more weeks and you'll get to know all the secret Angelico stuff," Dom reminded Heidi. He lifted his free hand and stroked her cheek. "Since you'll be an Angelico." The note of pride in his voice was unmistakable, and it hit Hillary hard. I want that.

  "You lovebirds hurry and open your gifts now," Matteo told them, ushering them out the door. "Can't wait to see how you like my present."

  "Gift card for Roadhouse burgers?" Dom asked wryly.

  "Better. His and hers thongs," Matteo said, ducking when Dom tried to cuff him again.

  Dom shook his head and led a giggling Heidi down the hall.

  Hillary tensed, waiting for the sound of the door closing. If she ducked into the bathroom, she could tell everyone she…

  "You can come out now." Matteo's voice was very stern and very, very displeased.

  Oh. Shit.

  Hillary closed her eyes and prayed for instant invisibility, the way she had when she was six years old. It worked about as well as it ever had.

  "I said come out," Matteo said. He shut the bedroom door firmly. "I meant now. You don't want to keep me waiting."

  Hillary swallowed and stepped away from the closet.

  Matteo was standing in front of the door, his hands folded across his chest and his eyes blazing.

  "Eavesdropping?" he asked.

  "I didn't mean to!" Hillary said quickly, clutching her skirt nervously in her hands. "I was getting new shoes, and then you came in, and I was going to come out, and then you started talking and I… I… I…"

  Matteo raised one eyebrow. "You done?"

  "Well, you weren't going to tell me!" she accused. "I had to listen. I heard everything you said, and clearly you've known about this for a while, but you didn't say a word. How can I trust you if you don't tell me things? Especially when those things concern me?"

  Matteo stiffened. His eyes went cold, and he regarded her silently. She hadn't thought he could look more frightening than he did when he was chastising her, but this silence was far, far worse.

  "Well! Say something! I'm right, aren't I?" she goaded, desperate for him to speak.

  His jaw worked back and forth, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hard and wintry.

  "We're not going to do this now, Hillary. I'm too angry and you're needed out there for the gift opening."

  That voice. She'd never heard him speak that way before. She'd heard him playful and serious and angry and wry, but never so cold, so disconnected. For the first time, Hillary felt real fear. Was this the end? Had she screwed up so badly that he was going to end things between them?

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Matteo," she whispered, wilting.

  "Later," he gritted out. He reached out and opened the door.

  "But, I…" Hillary began. She was desperate for just the tiniest bit of reassurance, to know that she hadn't spoiled this permanently.

  "For God's sake, Hillary, what did I say?" he whispe
red furiously.

  Hillary swallowed and nodded, brushing past him and down the hall.

  Oh, God. What had she done?

  * * *

  The opening of the gifts passed in a blur. Hillary dutifully oohed and ahhed at sets of silverware and china, nodded over bed linens and towels, and organized the presents into piles for Dom and his brothers to transport to his apartment later. But when it was over, she couldn't remember a single item Heidi had opened. Her stomach was in knots, and she knew her smile was forced.

  While the rest of the guests milled around chatting with Dom and Heidi, Hillary excused herself. She belatedly went to grab the seltzer and rag, and attacked the wine stain on the tablecloth.

  The red blotch wouldn't budge.

  Ruined. Just like every damn thing.

  She felt tears prick her eyes and she walked quickly to the kitchen before anyone noticed.

  Okay. All right. She grabbed the edge of the sink and took a breath to calm herself. She would talk to Matteo. She would plead with him for one more chance. She would be so, so good from now on.

  Yes, he'd had to spank her a few times over the past few weeks, but he'd assured her that was normal at the beginning. "You'll come to understand my expectations," he'd told her. She'd been excited at the time, allowing herself to imagine a future where she would know him that well, when she and Matteo would have what Heidi and Dom had.

  But those had been minor offenses—forgetting to eat breakfast, forgetting to check her speed when driving. She hadn't directly argued with him.

  Had Matteo decided she was more trouble than she was worth now?

  "Oh, Hillie! Good! I found you!"

  Hillary whirled around to see her mother striding purposefully into the kitchen, wavy auburn hair flying behind her, colorful peasant skirt swishing, and beaded bracelets clinking merrily.

  Her mother vibrated with suppressed energy—ironic, since Frances Morrow espoused a million different homeopathic ways to reduce stress and align her chakras—and at the moment, all of that energy was fixated directly on Hillary.

  What have I done to deserve this right now? Hillary begged the Universe. The Universe didn't reply.