by Alexx Andria
Before this situation with the club, Nolan’s biggest concern with his twin had been his seemingly hell-bent course with destruction, as if he were trying to punish himself with the pursuit of pleasure until he died of exhaustion. But now, they had this situation with the club to contend with and it made him edgy and freaked out for the sake of his family.
“What are we going to do?” he asked Dillon, looking to his older brother for advice. “He’s determined to do things his way but I’m concerned he’s not caring around how his way affects others.”
“That’s Vince in a nutshell, isn’t it?” Dillon countered dryly and Nolan couldn’t rightly disagree. Vince had always carried an attitude that shouted, “my way or get the fuck off my highway,” which was one of the main reasons he and Dillon had always clashed. But Dillon didn’t seem as concerned as Nolan about their brother. Instead, he was focused on the bigger picture. “We need to more information about what happened the first time around. And I need to know more about this club, Malvagio. Is it operating under the Buchanan Enterprises umbrella?”
“No, we have it housed under its own LLC so as to create a little distance but everyone knows it’s our club.” Nolan swallowed an aggrieved sigh. “We wanted people to know that we owned it. We enjoyed the notoriety.”
“What happens at this club?”
“Anything but it’s all consensual. That’s the one cardinal rule — that and no scat play.” He grimaced at the idea. “Some people are bigger freaks than we are.”
“So basically, it’s a sex club with some heavy BDSM elements in play.” At Nolan’s nod, Dillon digested the information. “Anyone else involved?”
Nolan hesitated but he knew it would come out sooner or later and frankly, Nolan wanted all of this to go away so he could wash his hands of it all. “We have one other partner, Laird Tiechert.”
Dillon did a double take. “Of Tiechert Construction? The developer giant?”
“Yeah.”
“Junior not interested in going into the family business?”
“No. Laird and his father don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on anything.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Yeah, their mutual hatred for their fathers had been the bond between them. But even though Laird’s father was a dick, no one could come close to the Buchanan patriarch — he’d inspired the Craptastic Father of the Year award.
“So how’s it going to affect Laird if his involvement comes out with the club?” Dillon asked.
Nolan didn’t even want to think what would happen. Laird’s father was a religious zealot, one of the many reasons Laird and his father couldn’t stand each other. “He stands to lose a lot,” Nolan answered grimly. “But Laird is one of many who could lose a lot if their involvement became common knowledge. Vince is right about one thing: we need to keep this as quiet as possible.”
He needed to tell Shannon about the club but he didn’t even know how to start that conversation, particularly when he’d been working so hard to be a different man, the kind who deserved a woman like Shannon and his daughter Aubrey.
Dillon caught the shame in his expression, which wasn’t a surprise because, honestly, it felt as if it were oozing from his damn pores, and gave him a short clap on the shoulder, saying, “ Stop beating yourself up for the past. Trust me, I spent years doing it and nothing changed. You aren’t the same person you were six months ago so remember that. Shannon will understand. She’s a smart woman.”
“I don’t want to lose her, man,” Nolan said with raw emotion. He’d never known the love he felt with Shannon and his darling little girl Aubrey and like a starving man who’d been gifted with a full-course meal, he was desperate to hold onto them. “I wish we’d never opened Malvagio.”
Dillon’s mouth quirked. “Now you’ve got me curious about this place. How bad can it be?”
Nolan barked a mirthless laugh. “It’s as the name suggests…wicked.”
“In another life…sounds like my kind of place.”
“Yeah, me too. Before Shannon, it was my favorite playground. Now? It just appears sordid and fake. I can’t believe I ever saw anything of value. I wish I could get Vince to realize that we’ve outgrown it.”
“You’ve outgrown it,” Dillon corrected mildly. “In case you haven’t noticed, Vince isn’t the least bit interested in following our path to respectability. In fact, he seems to abhor the very idea. I suspect even if he were to find someone, he’d do everything in his power to push them away.”
Nolan agreed. The ghost of a woman that they didn’t need to name floated between them and Nolan wished he knew how to finally put that poor girl to rest so that Vince could, at last, know true peace and move on.
But if tonight’s show of stubbornness was any indication, Vince was digging in his heels, quite comfortable in his misery.
Vince was changing into a bitter, angry, cruel man — all because of a woman he couldn’t forget.
Eventually, there would be little left of Vince that was Nolan’s beloved twin.
And that scared Nolan senseless.
-4-
Emma awoke, her throat scratchy from disuse and her vision still swimming but at least the bone-shattering pain ricocheting through her body had abated to a mild rumble that she could handle. She forced her eyes to focus and when she realized she was hooked to an IV, she made the assumption that she was in a hospital but it only took a second later to realize she wasn’t in a hospital, but rather in a stranger’s house.
And more specifically, in a stranger’s bed.
“Careful, you’ll rip out your IV,” a low voice instructed with authority, the sound at once familiar yet foreign and sending sparks of awareness though her abused body. She swung her gaze in the direction of the sound and she realized a man sat in the shadows of the room, watching her. She didn’t know why she knew the man was Vince Buchanan but she did. She worked to swallow, her dry throat resisting the movement until she fumbled for the water cup at her left and gulped the liquid with little grace or finesse but she didn’t care. Why was she tucked into Vince Buchanan’s bed? After what’d happened, she should’ve been hospitalized. Her question must’ve echoed in her expression for Vince rose from the chair, unfolding his solid muscular frame like a predator stalking his prey. Good God, he was terrifying. Emma had never been one for the pretty boys or the ones who’d arrogantly taken from the pick of the ladies. She’d always found the bookish, smart guy with the oddly endearing quirks more attractive, if not a little on the predictable side. Vince Buchanan was the antithesis of every man she’d ever dated and even if she’d known that intellectually, watching him stalk toward her with twin eyes burning with something she couldn’t quite define, made her realize her research had completely failed to prepare her for the reality. She shifted in the bed, trying to put as much distance between them as possible but he didn’t seem to care and stopped close enough to smell his aftershave. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice hoarse and small sounding. She cleared her throat and tried again with more confidence but she was at an obvious disadvantage. “Where am I ?”
“You’re in my penthouse. I brought you here to recover so as to afford some privacy. You’ve been out for two days,” he answered, his gaze traveling from the top of her head to the length of her body beneath the sheets as if he could see that was fairly naked beneath the covers. “I will have suitable replacement clothes brought to you,” he said, reminding her of that night. Her cheeks burned with the knowledge that she’d been brutalized and left hanging like a slab of beef for anyone to find.
She wanted to tell him not to bother but that posed a bit of a problem as she couldn’t very well walk from his penthouse wearing nothing but his oversized shirt. She took a surreptitious sniff. Yes, definitely his shirt. Her nose tingled from the faint scent clinging to the collar. Her cheeks burned at the realization that he’d likely peeled the shirt from his own body that night and put it on her. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly, nearly unable to form the words. H
er bottom lip was still sore from where that asshole had clocked her and as she darted her tongue along the bruised flesh, she winced when the pain reminded her not to touch.
“Who are you?” he asked, his gaze as hard as each bicep straining beneath the fine cotton of his shirt. “What is your real name and why were you in the club the other night?”
Straight to the point with no detouring down Niceville for appearances sake. She supposed she could expect nothing less from the Buchanan known for his vicious temper when crossed and downright cruelty to those who thought to best him. “I don’t have to answer you,” she said, lifting her chin. “I want to talk to the police. I have rights.”
At that his brow lifted as if amused and he leaned further into her space, sending her heartrate to skitter like a jackrabbit trying to evade a hawk. “You will answer me and you’ll be quick about it,” he said in a steely voice that brooked no argument.
“Or what?” she asked, holding his stare, though in truth she wanted to hide from that intense gaze. She didn’t believe in a lot of woo-woo stuff but at that moment she wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t something entirely inhuman. He was scarily mesmerizing. “There are rules that even you have to follow,” she said.
“I break rules for fun.” He stepped away abruptly and stalked away from her, saying with a silky warning his shoulder. “Mind your unruly tongue, little dove, or I might just rip it out.”
#
Vince had to get away from the woman before he did something he regretted. There was something about her that twisted him in knots unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Well, that was not entirely true, a voice whispered, reminding him of a past he wanted to forget.
It was the blonde hair, he argued, irritated with himself and his body’s reaction to her. He doubted she would reach his chest and yet she fairly vibrated with spirit. He’d expected her to be cowed, frightened and traumatized by what’d happened to her but instead, she’d quickly assessed her situation and fired back with questions of her own. If he weren’t so focused on protecting the club he might’ve enjoyed learning every inch of her exquisite body, teaching her carnal delights that were likely illegal in the Bible Belt states, but he didn’t have time for distractions. Especially pretty blonde ones.
He didn’t even know her name. He detoured to the kitchen and put together a tray of food that he’d ordered in. Time to switch tactics. Calm down and think, he told himself when his blood refused to chill. It was as if his body had gone into hyper-drive and everything was ramped up — hunger, anger, lust, impatience — because he wanted to do things that even he knew in his chaotic state of mind were unwise. Vince drew a deep breath and blew it out with deliberate purpose, then grabbed the tray and returned to the bedroom. She had to be ravenous after everything she’d been through. Her body would be weak with only IV fluids.
“What is this?” she asked, suspicious.
“What does it look like?”
“I don’t want you to feed me. I need clothes so I can leave.”
He ignored her and placed the breakfast tray over her legs. “I hope you like chicken breast with wild rice and fresh green beans. I thought something mild given your ordeal,” he said, grabbing a chair to pull it beside her. He gestured at her when all she did was stare at him as if he’d grown another head. “Go on, eat.” When she failed to do so, he sighed in irritation. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who is shy about basic needs, such as food?”
“I wouldn’t know what kind of girl you’re accustomed to but I can safely say I am nothing like a girl who would have anything to do with you.”
“Strong words. And what have I done to earn such a low opinion?” he asked, curious.
“You own Malvagio and you threatened to rip my tongue out. Need I say more?”
He laughed. “I’ve done far worse than own a stake in a club and apologize for my brash words earlier. But surely I haven’t earned your low opinion on such flimsy points. What do you think I’ve done that’s so inexcusable? Need I remind you that I took you from a bad situation — a situation you put yourself into by sneaking into my club where you plainly don’t belong — and I’m currently seeing to your care. I know I’m a little rusty in the good guy department but last I heard those are hardly the actions of someone deserving of your disdain.”
“Spare me,” she said, pushing away the food, even though she looked hungry enough to eat her blankets. “I know all about you Vince Buchanan. The Internet is a wonderful thing and you haven’t been exactly covert in your actions. I always thought you had a certain arrogance and now I know I wasn’t wrong. You think the world revolves around you and you don’t want to listen to anyone who says otherwise.”
He chuckled, but his amusement was only surface deep. Generally speaking, he didn’t care if someone labeled him a devil because in his experience, he was far more suited to reign in hell than serve in heaven. But her venom surprised him. Clearly, she wanted to punish him for something. Not that he hadn’t done enough to warrant such bile but he’d at least like to know from which direction the ire was spitting. “I’m flattered,” he said, enjoying how his control caused her to get carelessly brash. Usually, that was his M.O. Watching someone else suffer from the same driving emotion was enlightening. Now he knew why Nolan was always telling him to calm down. “What’s your name?” he asked. She glared at him, buttoning her lip. He shrugged. “Okay, play hard to get but you’re not the only one with Google fu, little dove. Better yet, I pay people to find me answers. I’ll have your name, your social security number, your address, and if you currently owe any parking tickets within a day and your little show of defiance will get you nothing but my irritation for wasting my time.”
“Let me go. You can’t legally hold me.” He grinned and she startled, openly wary. “What’s so funny? Not even you are above the law.”
Vince dropped his smile. “You’d be surprised what I find myself above and below these days. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’ll find a marked difference in my hospitality. Pray you don’t push me beyond my limits of control.”
Her eyes widened and he realized they were a deep shade of blue. “Are you holding me hostage?” she gasped.
“Depends on how you look at it,” he replied. “I prefer to consider you a guest while we sort out this mess you’ve put yourself into.”
“A guest who can’t leave,” she added and he shrugged again. “That’s a prisoner.”
“Well, as cages go, I’d say this is more uptown than the usual fare.”
“A cage no matter how gilded, remains a cage.”
Vince allowed his mouth to curve and his stare to linger on the faint rounded swell of her breasts, knowing she would find his perusal discomforting. But as soon as her cheeks whitened and her fingers tightened with fear and uncertainty, he backed down, though he didn’t know why. This was the time when he ought to use her fear against her to get the answers he sought. But the idea left a bitter taste and he discarded it quickly. He didn’t need to use fear. He had other weapons at his disposal. He gestured to the food. “You should eat. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal and need your strength. If you’d prefer something else, name it and I’ll have it delivered.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Liar. You’re practically eyeball-fucking that piece of chicken. Swallow your pride and eat for Christ’s sake. The last thing I need is you keeling over in a faint like a Victorian lady with her stays too tight.”
“And why do you care so much about me?” she asked, regarding him as one would a predator with wary caution. Vince swallowed a laugh. She was smart to give him a wide berth. He was known to bite. “You don’t even know me.”
“True enough but you’re going to help me find who did this to you because no one pulls this shit in my club. No one.”
She shivered and lifted her chin. “And why would I help you?”
“Beyond the common thread of human kindness?” He laughed when she graced him w
ith a sour look. “Well, can’t fault a guy for asking. But to answer your question, you’re going to help me because I’m going to make it worth your while. I will pay you for your assistance.”
“Do you Buchanans throw money at every problem?” she asked, disgust leaching into her tone from an unknown source. Did she hold a personal bias against wealth? It wasn’t uncommon but Vince couldn’t imagine how breaking into his club would’ve assuaged her bias in some way. “I hate to break it to you, not everyone can be bought.”
Vince stepped forward and gripped her chin firmly, eliciting a shocked gasp from her gently parted lips. His cock stirred at the most inopportune moment and he had to shove all indecent thoughts from his brain before he did something he regretted more than he regretted purchasing a bar in Philly for sentimental reasons. “Darling, everyone has a price…even you. And I shall enjoy discovering what it will take to bend you to my will.”
She held his stare but her eyes watered as she hissed, “Go. To. Hell.”
He released her chin and walked away. “Already there, little dove. Already there.”
-5-
Emma stared at the chicken and her mouth watered, betraying her hunger but she wouldn’t eat his food. She might’ve totally failed in her mission but that didn’t mean she had to play the happy, coddled prisoner, slurping up his supposed generosity like a lapcat sucking up milk. She plucked at the fine linens, wondering how many women he’d bedded on this very mattress and shuddered in disgust, hating him and men like him who thought they could have whatever they wanted by throwing money at it. Tears burned behind her eyes and she clenched her fists into tight balls to keep from bawling in despair. What was she going to do? First, she needed to get out of this place, which meant, the IV had to go. She carefully pulled the tape securing the IV line from her wrist and then squeezed her eyes shut as she slid the needle free from her vein. A spurt of blood followed and she quickly pressed down on the vein, grimacing as a brief flash of pain followed. Her body protested with sharp agony as she climbed from the bed but she breathed against the onslaught, determined to find a way out of this place. Vince Buchanan could not keep her if she didn’t want to stay. And she planned to walk right out that front door, whether she was dressed or not.
