Free and Bound (A Club Volare New Orleans Novel)

by Chloe Cox

  She could feel his eyes on her skin as sure as she could feel the wetness spreading between her thighs.

  Breathe, Adra. You have to breathe.

  She tried. It didn’t work. His eyes were on her lips.

  Say something!

  “You have an ex-wife?” she said.

  Ford finally smiled. “You have an ex-Dom who’s a movie star?”

  Adra laughed.

  She’d been obsessing about how these secrets had revealed the gulf between them, but here, in the room, laughing about it with him, knowing in that moment that he understood what she’d been thinking because he’d been thinking it, too…she felt closer to him than she had since it all happened. Since maybe before that. It was the weirdest thing.

  And it was, of course, terrifying. Because no one had ever gotten to her like Ford. No one had ever gotten so close to making her feel like she needed him. And the last time that had happened, she’d tried to quench that rising panic by sleeping with him.

  Get it together, Adra.

  “Ford, what happened with Derrick…”

  Ford crossed the room quickly, looming over her in a way that nearly pushed all thoughts out of her mind.

  “He can’t talk to you like that,” Ford said.

  “I agree,” Adra said. Derrick really was an asshole. “But it’s not like we can kick him off the movie. And I don’t want you going to jail.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “Well, I am,” Adra said. “What was that, Ford? I thought you were going to kill him.”

  Ford stood there, silent, looking down at her. She felt like there was something important happening, something churning around them, and she almost didn’t want it to end. She wanted him to look at her like that all the time.

  Finally he sat down on the end of her divan, lifting her legs up and putting them on his lap. He was so close. His hand burned into the outside of her thigh.

  “That was guilt,” he said.

  It took her a while to process that one.

  “Wait, what?” she said.

  Ford leaned on one arm, an arm Adra knew was strong and hard and felt amazing wrapped around her waist.

  “Adra, what happened between us,” Ford said. “We screwed up.”

  It was like being punched in the stomach.

  Why did it hurt so much to hear something she already knew to be true?

  “We should have talked first,” Ford went on. “We were friends, and we both know better. That’s on both of us. But I should have talked to you afterwards. After you told me that you didn’t want to be with me.”

  “Ford…” she said softly.

  “Quiet,” he said. His voice was soft and strong, and his eyes didn’t leave hers. She had no chance. “I pulled away from you, because I thought that’s what you wanted, because I thought…”

  He shook his head, frowning. Adra thought he was going to say more, but he swallowed the words, whatever they were.

  “I pulled away from our friendship, but I didn’t explain it,” he said. “And that hurt you. I saw, today, for the first time, how much that hurt you, and Adra, it made me fucking crazy.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought she’d deserved an explanation, since it had made perfect sense to her, but of course it didn’t make perfect sense. Ford was not the kind of man to throw a temper tantrum because he didn’t get what he wanted. He wasn’t the type of man to throw away a friendship because of a bad decision.

  So she’d just thought he’d changed his opinion of her. Like, he’d seen through her, he’d gotten close to her, and then the way she’d behaved afterwards had made him…

  Adra blinked again. She really didn’t want to cry.

  “Adra, it made me crazy with guilt, and then Derrick stepped out of line to hurt you on purpose, and I just snapped. I took it out on him.”

  “You took it out on him?”

  “I’m not sorry about it, but yeah,” Ford said. “That’s what happened.”

  He was so freaking earnest, looking at her like that. She felt terrible.

  “Ford, you don’t have anything to feel guilty about,” she said. “I…”

  But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  She couldn’t say that it was her fault, that this perfect thing between them was just something she knew she couldn’t have because she was screwed up, or because the world was screwed up, or both, and she couldn’t bear to one day see Ford screwed up, too. That things always ended, that they ended badly, that people inevitably walked out. That if that were to happen with him, it would destroy her. That she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him about it, because that would make her need him even more…

  And he was the one who felt guilty.

  “I let you think I no longer cared about you,” he said bluntly. “I let you think we weren’t friends. That was wrong. Adra, look at me.”

  Adra couldn’t make herself look up. He was so freaking good, looking at her with all that concern, that sense that whatever it was, he would take care of it. It was enough to make anyone feel weak.

  “I avoided you, too,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know how to—”

  “Look at me.”

  Shit.

  Slowly, she raised her eyes. He was just like she remembered. She almost couldn’t bear it.

  “I’ve missed you, Adra,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She felt stunned, breathless, incredulous, even.

  He was relentless.

  “You were the best friend I’ve ever had,” he said. “I don’t want to lose that.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes bright and his jaw clenched.

  “I won’t lose that,” he said.

  The word “friend” kept bouncing around inside Adra’s head, making her feel happy and sad at the same time, but in the end she couldn’t tear herself away from Ford.

  When she spoke, her voice was small.

  “Ok,” she said.

  Neither of them looked at each other like a friend. It didn’t feel like a friend’s hand on her thigh. It didn’t feel like a finished conversation, like there was so much unsaid, so much hidden behind those blue eyes. It made her want to reach out and touch him, to just…

  No. That’s what happened last time. That was how they’d gotten into this mess.

  “Ok?” he said finally.

  “Ok,” she said, nodding. “We should be friends again.”

  Ford smiled at her.

  “I never wanted to stop.”

  Adra smiled back. “Me, neither.”

  And as soon as she said it, she knew it was a lie. She didn’t want to be his friend. She wanted to just be his.

  Which was the one thing she couldn’t be.

  Five

  “So you’re friends,” Lola said flatly.

  “That’s what I said,” Adra said, handing the menu back to a very patient waiter. “Friends.”

  “Friends.”

  “Yes, friends. Why are you saying it like that?”

  Lola gave her a classic “are you shitting me?” face.

  “Because there’s friends, and then there’s friends, and you know the difference,” Lola finally said, turning on the waiter. The very pregnant redhead had more than the usual glow about her; somehow pregnancy had amplified both Lola’s Domme and sub characteristics. The waiter couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and it was funny to watch him try to figure out why.

  Adra figured Roman had his hands full.

  “What can I get you, madame?” the poor man said.

  “Everything on this page,” Lola said.

  The waiter rocked back on his feet.

  “Madame?”

  Adra stifled a laugh.

  “The appetizers,” Lola explained gently. “I want them all. I can’t decide, so I won’t. I know it’s weird, but I am hungry and pregnant and I don’t care. Bring me all of them. Trust me, I’ll eat them.”

  Adra decided to help t
he poor guy out.

  “I’ll just pick off of her plates,” she said.

  “My appetites are insane,” Lola sighed as soon as the waiter was out of earshot. “It’s absolutely killing me.”

  “Appetites, plural?”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe what these hormones do to you,” Lola said. “I’m seriously pissed off at Ford for taking up any of Roman’s time tonight. Getting back to bed is practically all I can think about. No offense,” she added.

  “None taken,” Adra said, trying to act nonchalant. “So Ford is taking up Roman’s time?”

  Lola groaned. “Oh God, please don’t make me be tactful,” she said. “They had to talk about something, I don’t even know what.” Lola arched an eyebrow. “Possibly friendships.”

  “Smooth,” Adra laughed.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “No,” Adra said. “Ok, maybe a little. We are…we did say we’d be friends.”

  “You know that’s not the good part.”

  “There isn’t a good part.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Adra sighed. She knew she wouldn’t get away with this forever. Maybe it was better to get it over with. “We had one night.”

  “Oh my God, one? All of this from one night?”

  “You knew?”

  Lola laughed. “Of course I knew,” she said. “Adra, you know I love you, but near-sighted strangers who see you two from across the street know. There has never been anything more obvious than the sexual tension between you and Ford.”

  “Don’t tease me,” Adra begged. “It’s a fresh wound.”

  “Then tell me about it!” Lola said. “You keep so much bottled up, Adra. I worry about you, you know?”

  Adra shook her head to keep from showing how much that affected her. It shouldn’t affect her, right? The idea of Lola worrying about her? That there might be reason to worry shouldn’t make her want to cry?

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Adra said, and realized it was the complete truth. “He is perfect. Everything is perfect. Except that nothing is really perfect, you know? And I just…I know I’m not built for it, Lola. I know how it would end. And I just can’t do that again.”

  “Adra…” Lola said.

  Adra looked away. Just Lola’s tone of voice told her what she needed to know. Lola thought Adra was being foolish, running away from love or emotion or whatever, but Lola didn’t know. She didn’t know Adra’s past, she didn’t know Adra’s family, and she didn’t know what Adra knew. And it was impossible to explain.

  And luckily Adra’s phone rang—with her sister-in-law’s ringtone.

  Adra had never been so glad to answer a phone call in her life.

  “Sorry, Lola, family stuff. One sec,” she said. “Nicole? What’s up?”

  There was a far too lengthy pause. And a sniffle.

  “Is he with you?” Nicole finally asked.

  Adra’s heart plummeted to somewhere well beneath the earth’s crust. Her brother Charlie had…

  No, better not to say that he’d run off yet. She didn’t know anything. It might not be that.

  “No, honey, he isn’t,” Adra said. “What happened?”

  “Has he called you? Do you know where he is?”

  “I haven’t heard from him yet, Nic,” Adra said, trying to quell her own panic. This brought up every fear Adra had, but it was nothing compared to what Nicole must be feeling. “What happened?”

  “I’m probably just overreacting,” Nicole said. “He’s probably just out late bowling or something. It’s just he’s been distant again, and he isn’t answering his phone, and…”

  “I thought things were getting better,” Adra said, pulling her chair back as the hapless waiter rolled an entire cart of appetizers up to their table. Lola couldn’t hide her excitement.

  “They were, for a little while,” Nicole said. “But he won’t talk to me. He gets so stressed out, and then he just shuts down, and then…”

  Adra didn’t need her to finish that sentence. It sounded sickeningly familiar. She steeled herself for the next question.

  “Is he drinking?” Adra asked.

  “Oh God, no, he wouldn’t do that,” Nicole said. “I know he wouldn’t do that. He’s not your dad. It’s so important to him.”

  It was important to Adra, too.

  “Adra,” Nicole said, her voice catching. “I’m sorry to call like this, it’s just I don’t know what to do, and I just…”

  “I know,” Adra said. “I know, Nic.”

  And she really, really did. She remembered it very well. And maybe that’s why this was the one time when she had no idea what to say. Everyone always came to Adra with their problems, and she always knew how to help, whatever it was. She would listen, and she would comfort them, and she’d be able to see, somehow, what the unspoken issue was. And maybe it wouldn’t fix the problem, but it would help them feel better.

  Except for this. This was the one thing that left Adra speechless. All she could think about was all the times she’d felt the same way, needing someone who wasn’t there and might not be coming back and powerless to do anything about it. She’d never figured out how to make that better. If she had, her life would be a whole lot different.

  Lola offered her a plate of something delicious looking covered in cheese, and Adra looked up to see her friend’s worried face.

  “I’ll call him, Nic,” Adra said into the phone. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m worried about him,” Nicole said softly. “I know it’s totally screwed up to be calling you about our marriage problems, but it’s not…I mean, you know it’s that I’m worried about him.”

  “I know,” Adra said. “Me, too.”

  “Thank you,” Nicole said. “You’ll call me?”

  “Of course,” Adra said. “And you let me know when he comes home, ok? Give the boys my love.”

  “Thank you, Adra,” Nicole said again, and hung up.

  That was it—that final thank you. That was what broke Adra’s heart. That gratitude for something that shouldn’t have to happen in the first place. Because Adra wasn’t even worried about her brother’s physical well being, as screwed up as that was—Charlie was always fine. Instead, Adra knew what this felt like. This was Charlie freaking out. This was Charlie acting like their father.

  Adra sent a simple text to her brother: “Call me so I know you’re not dead.”

  It was what they used to ask their dad to do years ago. If that didn’t get a response, then there was a problem.

  Goddammit.

  “Adra,” Lola said.

  Adra forced herself to smile. “Yeah? You gonna hog all that calamari or what?”

  Lola passed another plate, disturbing the precarious balance of the mountain of appetizers between them. But she didn’t lose her focus. Lola never did.

  “Adra, I really do love you,” Lola said softly. “So I’m saying this from a place of love. You don’t have to talk to me, but you’ve gotta talk to someone eventually. You can’t keep carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders like this. You have to let someone help every once in a while.”

  “I know,” Adra said, nodding slowly. “I know.”

  Except that she didn’t, really. It was one of those things that made perfect rational sense, and yet whenever she thought about it, her entire body revolted against the idea in a fit of panic.

  And Lola was watching her try not to freak out.

  “Well,” Lola said, popping a bacon-wrapped scallop in her mouth. “If you want something else to freak out about besides your reluctance to rely on your friends, I can help with that.”

  Adra laughed out loud, her hand to her chest. “Please.”

  Lola smiled evilly.

  “I hear tomorrow you begin coaching the actual scenes? Like, scene scenes? With Ford? And your ex? In the same room?”

  “Oh my God,” Adra said, laughing helplessly until a tear rolled down her cheek. “What is my life.”

  For
d and Roman’s pool game had been ruined by a single phone call from Roger Corvis, executive producer of Submit and Surrender. It had started off badly. Ford could hear Corvis’s tone from across the pool table, and laughed when he thought about how Roman would handle the guy.

  But when Roman came back, he wasn’t laughing it off. He looked serious.

  “Something happen?” Ford said.

  He hated the idea of the film taking over Volare, but it did give him back his friendship with Adra. He cared now. Damn it.

  “Someone leaked the filming location,” Roman said, setting up another shot. “Security is going to be an issue. Corvis seemed to think it was someone at Volare.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “That’s what I said, in so many words,” Roman smiled. “That said, we need to cut this short.”

  “Of course.”

  Roman looked at his friend carefully.

  “What did Claudia have to say?”

  “Nothing important. She’s moving to L.A. They’ll want memberships.”

  Roman raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Roman had known Ford when he’d found out that his wife had been having an affair with his best friend and colleague, Jesse Gifford, and that that had been the real root of the problems in their marriage. The games that Claudia had been playing with Ford for months while their marriage deteriorated were just about her guilt, nothing more, and that had been one last mindfuck to add to the list. It wasn’t something Ford talked about much, but Roman knew, and that mattered. Still, there were some things even Roman didn’t know.

  Like about the child. No one knew about the child.

  “Ford,” Roman said, setting his pool cue down. “You know that Adra is nothing like Claudia.”

  “Of course she isn’t,” Ford said. The idea pissed him off, and what Roman was getting at pissed him off even more. It wasn’t about simple parallels; Adra didn’t have to be just like his ex-wife to be incompatible with him. And Adra was the one who’d called it off. “Don’t compare them.”