by Lynda Aicher
“In the security room. I put him on screens.” Rock paused then turned his head to study Noah. “Where’s Liv?”
Not fucking here. Noah unclenched his jaw and kept his focus on the room below. “Hospital.” Cali had graciously agreed to ensure Liv was busy that night. She hadn’t even questioned him when he’d asked her for the favor.
“Keeping her away, then?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Having Liv in the club when it was empty had been hard enough. There was no way he could deal with her tonight. Or the desires she was stirring up.
Rock chuckled. “Good luck with that.”
Right. Like he needed more shit right now. There wasn’t enough bandwidth to handle everyone else’s problems and deal with his own, too.
“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Rock bounded down the stairs, boots thumping a beat that blended with the dance music below.
After seven years in business, the club was fairly self-functioning in its established routine. Seth, Jake and Deklan had fostered a loyalty within its staff that meant many of them had worked there since it’d opened. Noah was particularly grateful for that right now and to Marcus’s insistence last year that it was time to let some of the staff take on more responsibility. The nightly operations of the club were under control without Noah having to oversee every detail. Ones he honestly didn’t know or want to learn.
He made one more scan of the room below before following Rock down. He entered the semi-crowded hallway that fed the voyeur rooms. The distinctive din of the Dungeon bled down the stairs at the far end to add to the decadent atmosphere. He’d learned to tune out the slaps and cries long ago and the distinctive scent of leather, sex and sweat that seemed to cling to every Dungeon. Just like he ignored every submissive who tried to get his attention.
On his trek toward the stairs more than one Dom stopped him with questions and offers of support. This was why he was here. To be the face of the club when everyone needed it. It didn’t matter if he detested the role; it was his for now.
He found Butch trolling the Dungeon. His red hair was liberally peppered with white and distinctive when paired with his still-red goatee. His air of authority was enhanced by this muscled frame and unflinching gaze. The man was closing in on fifty and had no issues with aging flab, as the black leather pants and tight T-shirt attested.
He waited for the man to notice him then motioned toward the side where they could talk. Most of the equipment was in use that night, but it was another thing he’d learned to shut down in order to be there. The acts before him didn’t stir his desire or bring out an ounce of his dominant side.
Nothing had done that until Liv.
“Noah.”
“Butch.” Noah shook the man’s hand. “Everything good?”
Butch studied the room while Noah studied the man, noting the even gaze and relaxed stance. “You’ve got an excellent staff and facility.” Butch scratched his goatee. “I’m not sure why I’m here.”
“To make sure we continue to have an excellent staff and facility.”
“And you want to pay me to do that?” He arched a brow.
“You’re the most experienced Dom on the floor. You know what to watch for and who to watch as well. Your presence alone will curb potential problems.” Noah spared a glance at the room and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his fingers seeking out the smooth surface of that one key. “Don’t be an ass. Share what you’ve learned and keep the peace so I don’t have to.”
“Oh, that’s all you want.” Butch cracked a smile. “Maybe I should up my consulting fees.”
Noah puffed out a laugh and shook his head. “And go back to being bored at home? Why would you want to do that?” The man had sold his successful software business last year for a hefty profit that had him set for life. He knew this because he’d handled all the contracts for the sale.
Butch grunted. “Any idea on how long you’ll need my help?”
“Is indefinitely too long?”
“I’m here as long as you need me.” He frowned, his green eyes turning hard. “That bastard Harcourt will not get the last victory on this. You tell Deklan I’ve got this covered so he can focus on Kendra.”
Noah swallowed back the rush of gratitude that closed up his throat. He squeezed Butch’s shoulder and nodded. “Thanks. We all appreciate it.”
“It’s what we do,” Butch said then changed the subject. “Do you object to me calling a meeting with the Doms and subs on staff?”
“Not at all. Should I be there?”
“Nah. I can handle them.”
And that was why Noah had hired the man. “Good. You know how to reach me if you need anything.”
Noah turned away and let Butch do his job. He paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to take one last look around the Dungeon. For just a second, he pictured Liv strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross, her legs and arms splayed to show off her naked bottom and those sexy-as-hell back dimples.
Instantly the vision switched to Beth dangling from a rope, her smile wiped from her face to be replaced by a silent, open-mouthed scream. Blank eyes stared sightlessly back at him where she dangled in a tortured cry for help that he’d missed.
A chill plunged through him, turning his fingers to ice and his blood ablaze. His heart pounded in his ears. His breath stuck in his lungs until he forced himself to inhale. Flushed and trembling, he escaped down the back hall with a composed stride, counting each step as a way to focus his mind away from the vision he’d dared to try.
One, two, three, four, five…
He stopped in the quiet by the elevator to find his equilibrium. Slow, even breaths gradually brought his pulse back to normal, and he managed to shove the last of his panic away before it consumed him.
That was why he wasn’t a Dom anymore. Just the thought of having that kind of responsibility over someone scared the fuck out of him. The spark and desire that had been there for that had died along with Beth. He might exist in this world, but he could never be an active part of it again. Ever.
No matter how much Liv reawakened his dominant side, this little trip down memory hell confirmed that he didn’t have it in him to be her Dom. Even if she wanted him to be.
Chapter Eighteen
“Do your clients feel at all responsible for what’s happened?” a news reporter asked. The TV camera didn’t switch from the side-angle shot it had on Noah, but Liv identified the annoying persistence in the voice as the vulture who’d broken the Harcourt story that first morning over nine days ago.
Noah’s expression was a solid nothing when he stared into the camera. The hard remoteness sent chills through her despite the distance of the television. The man standing before the barrage of media for the press conference was not the caring man who’d held her in him arms every night for the last week. She didn’t want to admit how disturbing the harsh dichotomy was to witness. Or hot.
“Why would they?” Noah asked right back. “Would you feel responsible if someone deliberately blew through a red light with the intent to harm, even kill, your husband? Your kids? The family you hold dear? My clients did not drive that truck or make that choice. The responsibility lies solely with Remington Harcourt.”
“But it was their connection to the sex club The Den that led Harcourt to those actions. If—”
“You cannot pass the blame on to anyone,” Noah cut in. Somehow his face seemed to harden even more to match the sharp drive of his tone. “My clients run a reputable business that is within the regulations defined by the city and state. They follow the laws and have never faced even a hint of accusation or wrongdoing.”
“Are you saying there’s nothing wrong with what goes on at The Den?”
Noah’s brows lowered just a fraction, which highlighted the hard glint in his eyes of one going in for the kill. “Do you believe in freedom of speech, Ms. Coats?”
“Of course.”
“How about the freedom of religion? Or the basic freedom for one to l
ove who they wish, however they wish? What about those freedoms?” Noah leaned in, forcing the army of microphones to back up. “How would you react to me shoving a camera in your face and asking you to empty your bedside drawer? Imagine how invasive that would feel.” He paused. “Now tell me, what would we find, Ms. Coats? A Bible or a dildo?”
Liv’s sharp bark of laughter was timed with Vanessa’s groan and Holden’s whoop.
“Tell me he did not just say that,” V bemoaned.
“Should we judge you based on what’s revealed?” Noah went on. “After all, that’s exactly what you’re trying to do to my clients and everyone who’s ever gone to The Den.”
The silence that followed was brief but poignant, given the situation. The pride that swelled in Liv was flushed with other emotions as well. Noah was kicking butt against the vultures who’d stalked the hospital for the past week and tried to vilify the victims while excusing the criminal. To their credit—or not—they had been equally vicious with Harcourt’s family. Nothing like tearing down the innocent to make a better story.
“Can you explain exactly what goes on at The Den?” another reporter asked when Ms. Coats had no comeback.
Noah shifted his focus to his other side. “It’s a private club. What goes on there is confidential.”
Noah went on to field the barrage of questions for a few more minutes before he cut them off and exited back into the hospital. His sure strides and broad back declared the confidence that was him. The man who got stuff done and was trying his hardest to protect them all.
Dang it. She wanted to be in there to congratulate him and maybe soften that brittle façade he’d erected, not trapped at her sister’s house where it’d been deemed safe.
Vanessa waited for the news reporter to summarize the press conference then turned the television off. The remote clattered onto the coffee table, where she tossed it before dropping her head into her hands. Her straight hair fell around her face in a curtain of black silk.
“I thought it was good,” Liv said, frowning. “Why are you so upset?”
Holden rubbed Vanessa’s back and shot Liv a smile from where he sat next to V on the couch. “It’s not the press conference but the entire situation she’s pissed at.”
“I can speak for myself,” V griped.
“Really?” Liv winked at Holden. “I didn’t know that.”
Vanessa’s suffering sigh shot through the room and had Liv grinning. That sound had been one of her sister’s trademarks for longer than Liv could remember, but she’d heard less of it since Holden had been in V’s life.
“Seriously,” Liv prodded. “What’d you think of it? From a PR perspective?”
“He didn’t stick to the script.”
“And that surprises you?”
Holden shook with his suppressed laugh, and that got him a smack on his leg from Vanessa. He stilled immediately. The not-quite-playful interaction suddenly had a whole new meaning for Liv. Was that part of their dynamic? Did the whole Dom-and-sub thing extend outside of the bedroom for them? It didn’t seem like it, but she’d never analyzed it before.
Never knew enough to even think along those terms, let alone dissect the daily interactions of couples in the lifestyle.
“Don’t you have practice?” Vanessa turned her head to look at Holden.
He tugged his phone from his pocket and checked the time. “I do.” He kissed her temple. “I’m working out with Walters after, so I won’t be home until around six.”
The soft smile Vanessa gave him used to be saved for Liv alone. “I’m heading to the office after this. I’ll try to be back around then.”
“Are we sneaking into the hospital tonight?”
“How do you make that sound dirty?”
“I’m a dumb jock, remember?”
Liv couldn’t hold back her chuckle and she received the expected glare from her sister and smirk from Holden. “You two are so cute,” she teased.
“Oh, God,” V moaned and rolled her eyes.
Holden stole a kiss then bounded to his feet. He stepped around the coffee table and nudged Liv as he passed. “You’re just jealous.”
“That’s what you think?” She flung her foot out and kicked the back of his leg before he was out of reach. “Try overwhelmed by the saccharine.”
“Jealous,” Holden called from the hall.
Liv didn’t bother to reply to that. She smiled at her sister, who was watching the exchange with a smile of her own.
“What are you grinning at?” Vanessa sat back and crossed her legs, the hem of her skirt inching up to show off an enviable length of leg. Yeah, V got their dad’s genes. Liv, however, took after their mother’s side of the family, which included the “good birthing hips,” as their grandmother had proudly declared. Yay her.
“You,” Liv answered. “And Holden, and how good it is to see you happy.”
“That is too much.” Vanessa shot up, swiping Holden’s empty water bottle from the table as she strode out of the room, heels clicking across the hardwood.
“What?” Liv called. She dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling before eventually following V into the kitchen.
Vanessa was bent over the island bar, focused on whatever she was writing down on the notepad before her. Even without the matching suit jacket, she had the air of professional intellect. Like Noah. She didn’t need the clothing to exude command. The similarities between the two continued to amuse Liv.
She’d heard the theories that women married their fathers and men married their mothers but had never heard one regarding siblings. Vanessa had tried to take on the parental role when they were kids, which Liv appreciated, as their mom and dad hadn’t performed all that well in that job. But now, Vanessa was just her sister.
One she used to be able to talk to.
“Can I ask you something?”
V glanced up, brows lifted. “What?”
Liv stepped into the room and slid onto one of the bar chairs across the island from V. Indecision had her hesitating until V set her pen down and straightened, her attention on Liv. The jittery butterflies in her stomach had her shifting on the chair. V would either answer or shut her down. The nerves came from not knowing which would be worse.
“What’s it like?” She frowned, exhaled then elaborated. “Between you and Holden.” She held up a quick hand at V’s scowl. “Not the gory details, but…the dynamic. How does the Dom-and-sub thing work for you guys?”
Vanessa went very still as the tension fell into the space between them. The marble countertop suddenly felt like the neutral territory between attacking enemy lines, which wasn’t what she wanted and was very much like V.
It was Liv who sighed this time. “There’s no judgment. You should know that. I’m honestly just trying to understand. Two weeks ago what I knew of BDSM consisted of what had been discussed in my Women’s Studies courses and general perceptions made in passing. Now I’m in the middle of a media battle against the lifestyle, know more people into it than I ever fathomed—” she gave V a pointed look, “—and I’m basically living with a Dom. I—”
“Has he done something to you?”
The overprotective tone that shot out of V was one Liv was more than familiar with. Maybe it should’ve made her mad, and had when they were younger. Now it was warmly comforting to know someone cared enough to want to protect her.
“No.” She couldn’t hold back the smile that teased at her lips. “Nothing I haven’t wanted, anyway.”
“Oh my God.” V slammed her palm on the countertop, the smack jolting Liv back. “I’ll kill him.”
“Why?” Liv’s laughter didn’t calm her sister down at all so she tried to contain it—some. “He’s been rather fantastic in bed, if you want to know the truth.”
“Don’t.” V thrust her palm out and looked away, jaw working. Any apprehension Liv had bled away. This was the V she understood and knew how to handle. Vanessa took a deep breath and lowered her hand. Her expression had softened when
she finally turned back to Liv. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Of all the things she’d expected to come out of her sister’s mouth, that wasn’t it. Maybe she didn’t know so much after all. “Of course I am. Why would you think I’m not?”
V tucked her hair back then came around the island to take a seat in the chair next to her. She twisted around to face Liv, her hand coming to rest on Liv’s knee. “I’m not the only one who’s good at keeping things locked away.”
“You think? Huh.” Liv gave a mocking shake of her head and added the same tone to her voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Vivian.” The warning note had that touch of parental patience that was pure Vanessa. “I’m being serious.”
“When are you not?”
“Right?” She squeezed Liv’s knee then sat back. She reached over to grab her phone off the counter, checked the screen then set it back down. Her expression was neutral when she faced Liv once again. “So you want to know about the Dom/sub dynamic,” she dove in without preamble. “Every match is different, just like all relationships. It really depends on the couple and what each person wants and needs out of it.”
Her answer was direct and to the point, like she was discussing a business deal. Liv could match that. It might be better, actually. “I understand it’s not all about sex, but how does it actually work in a relationship?”
“I honestly can’t answer that,” V said. “It varies so much, but honesty and open discussions are even more important if BDSM elements are involved. If you can’t talk about this with Noah, then you shouldn’t be doing any of it with him.”
“Wow. Wait.” It was Liv’s turn to hold up her palm, backtracking. “I didn’t say I was doing that with Noah.” Well, not fully. There had been elements though, like the blowjob and the way he held her down in bed. Those still heated her blood when she thought of them.
“But I’m thinking you’re interested if you’re asking me about it.”
This was the last conversation she’d ever imagined having with her closed-off sister. Now their mother—that woman never had boundaries. But Liv had started it, so…
