by Chloe Cox
“Holy shit,” Charlene said.
Olivia snapped her head up. The door was open, and Charlene had just bounced off a wall of male muscle. The tension that had been building inside her since she’d fought with Gavin crested and broke in a wave of relief that lasted just long enough for her to actually look at who was standing there in front of a dazed and slightly star-struck Charlene, and realize that it was definitely not Gavin Colson.
“Brandon?” she said.
Nobody moved. Charlene gaped at a real live movie star, Olivia blinked and tried to identify whatever-the-hell emotion was about to bubble over, and Brandon Greer waited to be asked in.
“Hi, Liv,” he said.
Olivia had no idea what to say.
What came out was, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Brandon smiled, sadly, and it was still a million-watt smile.
“Trying to be less of an inexcusable jackass,” he said. “And, if I’m honest, trying to get some guy named Gavin, and all of the many, many people he knows, off my back. Who the heck did you hook up with, Liv? Bruce Wayne?”
“More of a pirate, really,” Olivia said, in the smallest voice yet.
Charlene sighed.
“I’ll tell Blue to stall,” she said. “And I’ll be back in a bit to do your eyes again.”
“Where are they?” Gavin growled. He was staring at the first few rows of chairs in front of the stage he’d spent all morning constructing on the Volare lawn, the section he’d personally roped off and reserved for the press. It was emptier than a damn graveyard while the rest of the place was overflowing with bodies. The turnout was great for the club, but not Olivia’s future.
“No idea,” Blue said, looking up from her phone. “But we have a few extra minutes anyway. Go find them?”
“Done,” he said.
Gavin turned and, for the first time, really took in the scene. And he was amazed.
Olivia and Blue and Luke had turned the place into some kind of fantasy world. It was like being on a movie set. They’d manage to string lanterns in and out of tents, there were cushions all over the place, scented lamps and hookahs and someone had put in a stream. An actual goddamn stream cut through his property.
For a second, he was dumbfounded by it. By the effort, the care. But this was how important the Club was—it was a home for people who found it. And if Gavin let it die, all they’d have left was Crennel.
And all Olivia would have left…
Gavin shook his head roughly, and made for the secured entrance, shoulders forward. There would be a list of press passes, photos. And he needed something to do.
He couldn’t stop moving. Ever since last night, he’d been jittery, antsy, his muscles jumping under his skin. Like a wild animal.
She’d crossed the only line that mattered, and yet it hadn’t made a difference. He was furious, but he still wanted her. No, that didn’t do it justice. He could still feel her, feel the warmth, the pull of her that made him want to paw at the ground. He still needed to know where she was, especially today.
He wondered if Brandon Greer had showed. He wondered if he’d have to make another phone call, go out there personally. He wondered why the hell he was still wondering things when the odds were he couldn’t keep her as a sub.
Because people who couldn’t see other people’s limits usually couldn’t see their own, either.
And he was just as guilty of that as she was. He’d been angry. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t get involved. He’d made a promise.
Which meant he’d crossed a line of his own. Which meant, more than ever, he had to control himself. Every goddamn muscle in his body had to fight to keep him from her.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Gavin looked down—Simone. She hadn’t even registered.
“Have you seen a red-haired guy, probably wearing a hat, carrying a camera?” he asked her.
She looked at him.
“No,” she said. “Gavin—”
“What about anyone else with a camera? Press credentials?”
He could feel the tension building again. Usually when he couldn’t shake something like that, it meant he’d screwed up. He needed to do something.
Simone followed his line of sight, scanned the party. Looked back at him, deflated.
“No,” she said. “But I have something important to tell you.”
Gavin zeroed in on her.
She was holding a drink. With a lemon in it.
“It’s sparkling water,” she said.
“What do you want to tell me?”
“That…” Simone paused, and looked to Gavin’s right, towards the covered path that led from the house out into the grounds.
And then her expression changed.
Nervous. Anxious. Scared. Simone looked back at him with urgent, wide eyes.
“That my father might show up,” she said.
Gavin turned.
Daniel Delavigne, dressed to the damn nines, standing rigidly in the middle of the narrow passage way. He was looking everything over, like he owned the place, or like he was fixing to own it. Or bracing himself.
“Are you going to go talk to him?” she asked.
There was something in her voice—a high tone, a tension. He remembered what Luke had asked him, whether Daniel Delavigne knew his daughter had joined the club. Simone’s face answered that question. Daniel Delavigne was about to find out.
Gavin frowned—this meant he should go deal with it, even though the Delavignes weren’t his business anymore. The club needed this thing to go off as planned, and Daniel’s presence was like a lit fuse in the middle of a fireworks factory. It was obvious what he should do.
“Gavin?” Simone said.
But he was looking at someone else who had just emerged from the house, hanging back, almost out of sight as he slinked back towards the bar.
Brandon Greer.
“Do you think I should go talk to him?” Simone asked.
“If you want to,” he said. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes hadn’t left Greer. “I’ve got something else I need to do first.”
Thirty
Tunnel vision.
It usually only happened in a scene. With Olivia. The world narrowing, going quiet for him. But now—not a scene. Olivia wasn’t even there.
But someone who’d hurt her was.
He’d bullied Greer into showing up because Olivia had said she needed it before coming out on her own. Gavin realized now that he’d been slowly watching Olivia become the woman she was supposed to be, sub and all, and it had been one of the best things he’d ever seen in his life. He couldn’t turn away if he’d tried. That was why he’d lost his grip when she screwed up. Why he’d lost control, why he…felt the way he did.
He had to know if it had worked.
“Brandon Greer,” he said, and clapped his hand down on the other man’s shoulder. He didn’t wait, just turned him around.
Greer started. He was smaller than he looked on screen, and had none of the star power Gavin expected. Olivia had told him once that Brandon could turn it on and off like a switch, that lots of famous people did it, something about charisma that she’d tried to learn. Whatever it was, Greer didn’t have it on now.
“You must be Gavin,” he said.
Gavin crossed his arms and waited.
“Right,” Greer said. He looked down at nothing. “Well. Thanks for making me do the right thing.”
Gavin didn’t move. “I should probably still kick your ass.”
There was a pause. And then Brandon Greer nodded.
“Definitely,” he said.
Shit.
Gavin looked the other man up and down once more, and exhaled, hard. There were little beads of sweat on the other man’s forehead, his shoulders hunched up. Brandon Greer looked like someone who was working hard just to stand there and keep being himself. No point in making someone who looked like that feel any worse.
“I’ll buy you a dri
nk,” Gavin said. “Get one of those fireworm shots in you, and then you can tell me what you’re going to do to make it up to her.”
The movie star flinched. “Anything but that,” he said.
“Thought that was your thing,” Gavin said, grinning. “I’ve seen those Rio Redhawk movies. You mean to tell me you don’t like hot sauce, tequila, and a worm in a shot glass?”
Brandon Greer grimaced.
“How about we just say you bought me one, and you ask me what you want to ask me?” he said, eying the crowd that had followed him at a polite distance. “I gotta take it easy. I have a feeling I’m going to be drinking a lot of fireworms by the end of the night.”
“Part of the job?”
“Part of making it up to her,” Brandon said. “I told her I’d help out, so I’m going to go out there and schmooze my ass off. Which means they’re all going to buy me fireworms.”
He shuddered, and hunched over the bar.
“The screenwriter who came up with that is one sadistic son of a bitch.”
Gavin couldn’t help it, he laughed. Maybe there was some justice in the world, after all.
“Is she ok, though?” Brandon said, suddenly. He turned around and locked eyes with Gavin quickly, forcefully, and for the first time, Gavin could see it. That was why Brandon Greer was famous—because he could show you his heart for a second at a time. “I have no excuse, honestly, other than that I was scared, and I knew I’d screwed up unbelievably badly, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Is she going to be ok?”
Gavin studied the smaller man for a moment.
“Olivia Cress is going to be absolutely fucking fine,” he said.
And then the bottom fell out as he realized he didn’t know if that was true.
Because he’d lost it. He’d gotten involved. And maybe he’d pushed her, too far. Maybe she wasn’t ready, and he’d been blinded by her, by how much…
Shake it off.
“Exactly what do you think you can do to make it right?” Gavin said.
“You’re right. I know I’m too late,” Brandon said. “I can’t do anything about that role, or her agent, but—”
Gavin growled, “What are you talking about?”
Brandon looked genuinely surprised, but he took one look at Gavin’s face, and started talking.
“Her agent dumped her,” Brandon said. “That’s why there’s no press here. She lost the Critical Vengeance role, and then a few others, and Sonny didn’t even call her. I had to tell her.”
There was silence between them.
Slowly the sounds of the party started to filter in again. Laughter, somebody dropping a glass, the winding, creeping horn of a jazz band warming up.
Their deal was off.
The whole thing had been about helping her career. It had been a trade-off, and now there was no trade. Olivia would have to find a way to help her family out without that big movie role, and this party, this performance, might help the club, but it wouldn’t do jack for her. Except scare her, if she wasn’t ready.
“May I have your attention please…”
Both men turned around as the lights around them dimmed and the crowd dialed it down to a low, humming simmer. They’d been waiting. A spotlight clicked on the stage, and they clapped.
“Please welcome, for the first time…”
Blue’s voice trailed off with the ringing cymbals, tight and bright and bringing everyone’s eyes on that damn spotlight as it swung right, all the way to the curtain he’d hung that morning. The cymbal crashed, the band hit the opening chord, and a leg shot out from behind that curtain.
Gavin got up. He’d recognize that leg anywhere.
“What’s she doing?” he said.
Brandon Greer stood up next to him as the music swelled.
“She said something about following an order?” he said.
And then the world shifted, right under Gavin’s feet.
Oh my God.
The sliver of spotlight that shone down on her shrank into nothingness as the curtain closed, and Olivia…
Olivia was more Olivia than she’d ever been in her whole life. The second she stepped out on the stage, she’d felt it. It was like the opposite of an out-of-body experience—an in-body experience? She could feel every last little muscle, every sensation, every tiny feeling of joy adding up to the song she got to sing, for the first time, on stage.
Olivia had played the role of herself, and it felt incredible. The only other time she’d ever felt like that in her entire life was…
The applause was deafening.
Olivia blinked. In an instant she was back in the real world, smack in the middle of backstage chaos, with one of Blue’s dancers waving her off the stage, another one prepping for her act, someone else doing hamstring stretches on the edge of the stage.
“Nice speech,” Blue whispered, and then darted past her, slipping through the curtains to another round of applause.
Olivia smiled, and tried to remember what she’d said as some kind young thing gently led her off into the wings, back towards the house. The truth, basically, but filtered through all the many, many feelings that she was sure were just about to erupt out of the top of her head. The club…and something about being yourself, and Brandon…and Gavin…
And she’d said she was a member. She didn’t even know if that was true anymore, or if it ever was, but she’d said it. I’m a proud member of Club Volare.
And she’d looked for Gavin.
“You all right, Miss Cress?”
It was the young sub who’d told her she was in trouble that night of the first party.
Man, did he call it.
“I’m fine,” she lied, and took off her heels so she could sprint back across the grounds, the long way round to the front of the house. Whatever she was, it was not fine.
Elated? Crushed? Sure, why not both? She couldn’t wait to see if Gavin was going to come up on stage, like they’d planned. She’d gotten braver, but not by that much. Baby steps.
Running in that tiny dress, feeling the grass beneath her feet, the adrenaline pumping: there was only one person she wanted to share that with.
He wasn’t there.
Olivia climbed the same steps she’d climbed the first night she came here, her bare feet slower with each step. That dumb thought had stuck in her head like a piece of grit, messing up the works, and she could feel all that good will and good feeling start to drain out of her, and in its place…
That little voice. This is what you get for being selfish…
“Shut up,” she muttered.
“I haven’t even said anything yet.”
Olivia whipped around.
Thirty-One
“Blue told me she’d seen you headed off this way. Thought I might catch you alone.”
Olivia stared at the man in front of her. One hand was on the railing, paused with one foot on the bottom step, just like he had been the last time she’d seen him. And he was still not-Gavin, just like the last time she’d seen him.
Aaron Black.
“Are you here to insult me again, or just to freak me out?” she said.
That surprised even her. Her natural inclination to be nice was outweighed by her intense irritation that the man who had come and found her after her life-changing performance was not, no matter how hard she squinted, the right man. Plus, he was a huge jerk.
Aaron Black frowned, and gripped that railing even harder.
“I take it personally when I hear about a Dom/me who’s mistreated a sub,” he said. “I’m not gonna apologize for that.”
Mistreated?
Olivia was still practically vibrating with the sheer joy of being alive, humming that particular song she’d learned the very first time Gavin had ‘mistreated’ her. That song she’d been able to actually go out and actually sing because Gavin had seen her better than she’d seen herself, and ordered her out on that stage.
“You are out of your freaking mind,” she said.
She didn’t even hear what Black said next. She was just now connecting more of the dots. When Brandon showed up not even an hour ago, it had taken the two of them about two seconds to start crying together, because she had thanked him for being the brave one and keeping them both from making a huge, miserable mistake. And that had been Gavin, too. She’d almost slapped him when he first said it to her, and it had turned out to be true.
“Aaron,” Olivia said, interrupting. “What’s your point?”
“My point is I’ve been asking around,” Aaron said, keeping his tone civil with some effort. “And—”
“You know what? Good,” Olivia said, and walked toward him.
Aaron Black looked confused, like he hadn’t been interrupted in a long time and was kind of rusty at it. Well, he was about to get a lot of practice.
“You know why?” Olivia went on, then didn’t bother to wait. “Because today I learned my career’s a total disaster, and I’m probably going to end up selling my house to finish paying off my father’s loan, and nothing has gone to plan, and I am relieved. Not scared, not sad. Relieved. Because for the first time in a long time, there is something I actually want in life, rather than just something I’m afraid of, although I’m sure that doesn’t make much sense to a guy like you. You know what it is that I want?”
“No.”
I want Gavin.
She shook her head. “I want Club Volare,” she said. “To be open. To exist. So—”
“I know,” Aaron said, stepping all over the rhythm she was trying to get going. “Gavin is very convincing. I no longer doubt the nature of your relationship, but—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said. “Gavin convinced you?”
Aaron Black opened his mouth like a man who had no idea he’d just thrown the final straw on the wrong woman’s back.
“Listen, Mr. Black,” Olivia said, drawing herself up to her full height and wishing she hadn’t taken her heels off. “Whatever Gavin said to you the other night when he walked in just as you were…”
She frowned.
“Honestly, I don’t know whether you were hitting on me or threatening me? Which is not great, that I couldn’t tell the difference. And neither is this. Because Gavin getting mad about your rudeness is not a measure of our relationship. It doesn’t mean he loves me, Mr. Black, it just means he’s not a jerk.”
