Taken_by_Chance_ARe_June14

by Chloe Cox

  “Chance,” she said again, hoping against hope that he would just wake up.

  He sat bolt upright, eyes wide and roving around the room. His chest heaved, dripping with sweat, while he rapidly checked all entrances and exits. Assessed any threats.

  He blinked.

  He looked at her.

  He was still breathing hard when he reached out for her hand, enfolding it in his so that it seemed to disappear. The pad of his thumb rasped over the delicate skin of her wrist as his body calmed down, retreating slowly from the red alert state of whatever terrible thing he’d been dreaming about.

  With her other hand she touched his shoulder, lightly.

  Chance didn’t say anything. He only lay back down, slowly, pulling her down with him. Gathering her to him like something precious. He turned onto his side and held her close to his chest, big arms wrapped around her, sheltering her from any threat, real or imagined, and threw one leg over her body.

  A bomb could go off and she’d be fine.

  Lena fell asleep to the thudding of his powerful heart, thinking that maybe she could finally give him something, too.

  The next morning, Chance was gone.

  Lena frowned, her hands searching the bed covers like she might find him under there. That…was not like him. At all. He’d left a note saying he had to go deal with some sort of permit or zoning fiasco, which she didn’t doubt, but she’d become so accustomed to his considerate style that she almost expected him to, like, wake her up with a kiss, first.

  Ok, no, that’s ridiculous, she thought.

  Still, though. The point was that it was a change, not that it was unreasonable.

  Well, ok. Ok. She could navigate this. She was so used to guarding herself from becoming dependent on Chance that she had given little if any thought to the possibility that he might grow close to her. But wasn’t that exactly what he’d said he couldn’t do?

  And how was she going to tell him about the texts now?

  “Crap,” she said out loud.

  There was nothing to do but make breakfast and mull it over.

  Lena couldn’t help but wonder what Volare L.A. would be like once it expanded. It was still small, still just a core group of people, while they set up the public club and carefully searched for new members. For this short period of time, though, it felt like a small family in a giant, well appointed house. Kind of nice, really.

  Lena loved the downstairs kitchen the best. She didn’t know how the New York club was set up, but she gathered it was more sort of formal? This place had a very California sense of openness that she loved. Plus giant slate countertops, every appliance she’d ever seen, and some she hadn’t. She’d identified one: a sous vide cooker. She’d guessed they were eventually going to hire a chef. Or at least someone who knew what sous vide was.

  But for now? It was the most overly equipped omelet and cookie factory in the hemisphere.

  She padded down there in one of Chance’s shirts and her favorite sweats, bleary-eyed and yawning, and totally unprepared for the redheaded hurricane she found raiding the fridge. All the fridges, actually. And apparently the tall redhead had gotten to the cabinets, too.

  “Um, hello?” Lena said.

  “You must be Lena,” the redhead said over her shoulder. “Look, I’m not going to get into it, but this is very important: where the hell is the chocolate?”

  Maybe Lena’s brain wasn’t working properly yet. She blinked and turned the words over in her head. No, the woman was definitely hunting for emergency chocolate.

  “I don’t think there is any.”

  The woman turned with such slow, exaggerated horror that Lena giggled. She was beautiful, almost stunning, really, and also about to kill someone for some chocolate. Lena wanted to be helpful.

  “Declan used the only chocolate I know of to make his, um, cookies, I guess you’d call them?”

  “Where?”

  “If no one threw them out, they’re probably under that cover, right there. But look, I really wouldn’t—”

  “Oh, Lena,” the woman said, tossing the covering aside to get to the plate of chocolate-containing abominations, “You seem nice, and I want you to like me, so please, please don’t make me act any crazier than I already am. It’s already kind of an adjustment.”

  “Ok, well, before you actually take a bite and hate me forever, who are you?”

  The woman smiled at her, a brilliant smile, just glowing. “I’m Lola,” she said.

  Lola Theroux!

  Chance’s cousin! The woman who ran Volare New York, who had just gotten married to Roman Casta, who—

  “Holy shit, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Lena blurted out.

  Lola spit out her “cookie,” which was really just as well, considering.

  “How…?” she asked, looking genuinely shocked.

  “I don’t know, it just…I mean, the chocolate hunt, and you look amazing, frankly, like your skin. You could be in commercials. And you were feeling crazy. I just kind of guessed—I wasn’t even serious. And I, um, spoke without thinking. And…now I know. Sorry about that.”

  Lola ran a hand through her red hair, clearly freaking out.

  “You can’t tell anyone. Nobody knows. I barely know. I did the test when I got off the plane. That is just…”

  “I really am sorry.” Lena cringed.

  “Well, we’re certainly friends now, aren’t we?” Lola said, leaning back on the counter.

  Then she took another bite of cookie.

  And swallowed it.

  “Honestly, if you don’t want anyone else to know yet, you should probably stop eating those cookies,” Lena said.

  Lola snorted. “They’re so bad, but I just can’t stop. What are they made out of, baking soda?”

  “And salt, I think.”

  “Oh God, throw them out,” Lola laughed, pushing the plate away from her. “I can’t be trusted with them. That is so gross.”

  Lena laughed again, delighted to have this bond of deadly cookies with Lola Theroux, and realized she was absurdly happy to have met this woman at all. No, she was absurdly happy to be friends with this woman. She was happy that Lola wanted Lena to like her.

  “So, um, you’ve heard about me?” Lena asked.

  “Ah,” Lola said, wiping the last remaining horrible crumbs from her mouth. “Oh yes, you are the woman who’s managed to get Chance to be her Dom for more than a week at a time. Yeah, I’ve heard about you.”

  “It was kind of a special circumstance. He’s doing it to help me get over something.”

  “Your douchebag ex-boyfriend and his shenanigans?”

  “Bingo.”

  For the first time, the fact that someone knew about it all didn’t make Lena cringe. It was a relief, the way Lola talked about it like something matter-of-fact, like it wasn’t the end of the world, just something crappy that had to be endured.

  “Well, that is just like Chance,” Lola said, smiling. “He can’t tear himself away from a woman in trouble. But don’t think that means it wasn’t about you,” she added. “You’re not the first woman in trouble to come his way, not by a long shot. He usually doesn’t get so personally involved.”

  Lena did not know how to respond to this. She didn’t even know how to feel about it. She was both relieved and horrified at the idea that she might be just another damsel in distress for Chance to help; she was also both relieved and horrified that she might not be just another damsel in distress, that she might be special in some way, something that meant this was getting more complicated than she could handle.

  Well, after last night, wasn’t it already complicated?

  Lena was a mess.

  “I need your advice,” she said to Lola.

  “Well, that was quick.” Lola giggled. “Oh, wow, ignore me. I’m sorry, these hormones are just…I’m probably going to cry again in, like, five minutes. Just ignore it. Ask away, I promise my brain is working fine.”

  “You’re one of the lucky ones th
at gets to have fun with all this pregnancy stuff, aren’t you?”

  “Shh,” Lola admonished. “Don’t use the p-word. Just tell people I’m eccentric or something. Now c’mon, ask away.”

  “You know you’re the reason Chance helped me? With the whole paparazzo thing?”

  “You think I’m the reason he helped you? No, honey, Chance does what he wants, trust me. And that wasn’t your question.”

  Lena sighed. Lola was obviously just as stubborn as Chance. And Lena had heard she was a switch, someone who could be both dominant and submissive. She could believe it—there was something in the tone of that last sentence…

  “What’s wrong with Chance?” Lena asked.

  Lola grew quiet, and Lena could feel the other woman studying her. Like she was evaluating whether she could trust her.

  Again, like Chance.

  “What happened, specifically?” Lola asked.

  “Nothing bad. I mean, he didn’t hurt me or lose control or anything like that. God, he would never—”

  “I know what you mean. Go on.”

  “He was really clear that he won’t get into relationships because he’s fucked up in some way, which, I’m fine with that, honestly. I get it. But last night he had some kind of nightmare. I say it like that and it sounds stupid, but trust me, if you’d seen him…”

  “He’s been different since he got back,” Lola said quietly. “I’ve been worried about him. Something he was holding back, something I know is hurting him. He hasn’t talked to Roman or me about it, but I think something happened on his last security job. And the only other time I’ve seen him like this…”

  Lola trailed off. Lena could see that she’d asked about something raw, something real, and now that Lena knew there really was something there, she didn’t know what to do. She knew what she felt, but she didn’t know what the rules were, whether she could push Chance, whether she should.

  “When else have you seen him like that?” she asked.

  Lola sighed. “I know this is horrible to do to you, but this is something that Chance really needs to tell you himself. And you need to talk to him about it, because he’s your Dom. And believe me when I tell you that I’m going to talk to him about it, because that is how we roll at Volare. Lots of redundancies in taking care of each other.”

  “Oh, please don’t,” Lena said. “I should have asked him about it first, and now—”

  “Don’t worry about it. He’ll expect me to be concerned. He would do the same for me if I had something going on and I was training a sub. If he screwed up with you, even a little bit, it would probably damage him more than it would you.”

  Weirdly, even though Lena was the one getting tied up and spanked, she could believe this. Chance would never forgive himself if anything ever happened to her.

  And she was grateful for the opportunity to spill all of this to someone who would actually understand. Lena let it all just rush out of her. “I don’t know how to talk to him without crossing a line. I don’t know if that makes any sense to anyone else, but he was so clear about not getting into a relationship, and I was so clear about it, and I really am totally fine with it, and I just…don’t. I really don’t want to cross a line I shouldn’t.”

  “Uh huh,” Lola said, smiling a little too knowingly for Lena’s liking. “You are fine with it, and you don’t want to. You’ve said that a few times. Well, listen, in my experience these things tend to work themselves out. Sometimes it can take way too long, if someone happens to be particularly stubborn,” she added darkly, “but, you know, it does happen eventually. Just do what you think is right, Lena.”

  “You seem confident.”

  “Yup. And now I’m going to cry. For literally just…no reason. Crying. Here it comes.”

  Lena stifled a laugh, even as she was getting some tissues. “You know, I don’t know how long you’re going to be able to keep this a secret,” she said.

  “I know,” Lola sobbed. “But it’s just that Ford says Chance has been so happy lately, and you’re all worried, and, I just…oh God, seriously just ignore me. I should not be talking right now. At all. To anyone.”

  “Would it be terrible if I used this to my advantage and got you to spill?”

  “Yes!”

  “Ok,” Lena giggled, handing Lola another tissue. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.”

  “Hey,” came a voice from the door to the terrace. “What’s wrong?”

  Chance stood there, holding a take out bag from the breakfast burrito place he’d seen Lena frequent every day since he’d moved in, looking like he didn’t know who to be more worried about.

  chapter 18

  Chance was bewildered. First, there was the fact that Lola was here, in L.A., which he was thrilled about. Except that she was crying. And talking to Lena. Who was…laughing?

  And now they were whispering together?

  “Lena,” he said, going full Dom voice right away. “Talk to me.”

  “Don’t pull that, Chance,” Lola said. “I give her amnesty, she’s talking to me about my problems, and she’s wonderful. Also, I’m just hormonal, ignore it. Now get over here and give me a hug.”

  Great, Lola with PMS. He had no idea how women managed it, but they did, something he was eternally grateful for. If he had to deal with random hormones and the rest he’d lose his mind.

  Chance moved in on Lola with his arms wide open and he caught Lena snickering as he swept his cousin up in a great big bear hug. His sub would pay for that later.

  Just as soon as he could get the image of her standing over him, worried, caring about him, touching him, out of his head. Just as soon as he could forget how good it had felt to hold her through the night.

  Right. Just like that.

  Probably he had some things to take care of before he involved her in another scene. He was now doubly glad that Lola was here. He could use some decent advice. He’d avoided imposing his problems on Lola and Roman, as they were figuring their own relationship out, not wanting to get in the way of those two dumb kids finally realized that they were madly in love with each other, but maybe now it was time.

  The last thing he expected was to get blindsided by his little sub first.

  “Chance,” Lena said. “Can we talk?”

  “Go,” Lola said, waving him away. “We have all week, and I want to poke around anyway. And send someone to go buy pickles. Do you know you have zero pickles? Oh, damn. Don’t listen to me, just…go.”

  Chance wasn’t even listening to his cousin. One of the first things he’d learned as a Dom was that one’s authority was only as strong as it was fair. And Chance knew in his heart that he needed to care for Lena after what she’d seen the night before.

  So it wasn’t like he had a choice.

  But every dominant fiber of his being bridled and demanded that he take note and establish the proper order of the world later. Principally, Lena under him, trussed and tied.

  But right now, they could talk.

  Chance had tried to sort through the way he felt about what had happened the previous night. It had been a nightmare, obviously, one of those terrifying collages of every shitty thing he’d ever seen or felt or feared. So of course it didn’t make sense. It had started back in Nigeria, when he’d learned the Asala family was missing, and then he’d suddenly been back home, watching Jennie get beaten to a bloody pulp and unable to do anything about it. He’d been frozen in place, unable to move, something he recognized now as sleep paralysis, but in the dream it hadn’t mattered. He was just failing to protect her all over again.

  And then he was at Jennie’s funeral, something he hadn’t been to in real life, when everybody started pointing. Screaming. This time, he was the monster.

  Yeah, that had sucked.

  And then he’d woken up, terrified he’d find himself somehow like them, the men he’d beaten up or held down before they killed someone, just as bad, really a monster. And she was there. Looking at him like she cared. Like she w
as worried.

  It had made all the difference.

  Holding her, knowing he had her safe, had made all the damn difference. It was the same way she’d calmed him, only magnified, multiplied. She made him feel human.

  How the hell was he supposed to explain any of that?

  “What happened last night, Chance?” Lena asked quietly.

  “No foreplay?” he said. “You’ve got a lot to learn about leading, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t do that,” she said. “If I can’t avoid stuff, you shouldn’t do it, either.”

  He smiled at her. She had a point. He could be proud of her and irritated at the same time.

  “I’m not avoiding anything. But don’t forget who I am, either.”

  Chance strolled over to the waist-height wall around the edge of the roof garden. Lena had led him up here to talk, something he privately appreciated. It was a good space for her now, somewhere she felt comfortable, safe. He felt good about that.

  “Yeah, ok,” he said, sweeping a palm across the fuzz on his head. Almost time to buzz it again. “I haven’t exactly worked all this out yet to my own satisfaction, but you are involved now, aren’t you? The short version?”

  “Any version,” she said.

  He filled his lungs and let it out slowly. Fine.

  “So my last security job was on a pipeline in Nigeria,” he said. “There are bands of…well, bandits, I guess. The oil companies call them terrorists, but they’re just gangs with guns who want money and think they can do whatever the hell they want. Anyway, I became friendly with this family in one of the out-of-the-way villages. It was because of the kid—he used to play soccer with me. I got him an actual ball and everything, though, looking back, that might have drawn attention to them. Anyway, near the end of my contract I got into it with some of these gangs, these bad guys.”

  Chance looked at her, tried to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were big, open hazel pools. Well, he had to tell her.

  “The Asalas went missing. Gone. Still have no idea what happened to them. No one would talk to me—like if they did, they would be in danger. I couldn’t control my temper, went after those guys, and then…”