Her Once And Future Dom (Club Volare Book 11)

by Chloe Cox

  Gavin cleared his throat. “I know that—”

  Holt didn’t let him finish.

  “I know what you’re doing, and you’re going about it all wrong,” Holt said, his eyes never leaving Simone. Her whole body was turned to him, and as he spoke, she finally looked up at him. He wasn’t going to let her go again. “This is between me and Simone, and if I have to watch you make her any more uncomfortable than you already have, we’re going to have more than words later. Understood?”

  Holt saw Simone’s breath hitch. Then he thought he heard Gavin smile as he said, “Understood.”

  “Now get the hell out of this office,” Holt said, his eyes holding Simone’s big blue ones, bigger than he’d seen them in a long time. “You can have it back when I’m done with it.”

  Holt didn’t even turn his head. Just waited until the figure that was Gavin walked past, behind Simone, and left the room. The door closed, and Holt waited another beat like that, with just the two of them looking at each other.

  Then he said, “Still pissed off?”

  Simone laughed despite herself, and Holt smiled. He loved to see that, too. He especially loved to see her begin to relax.

  “That obvious?” Simone said.

  “Yes,” Holt said, and she flushed again. Only this time it wasn’t panic, or anger.

  “I guess that’s sort of embarrassing,” she said. “But what’s one more embarrassment on the day?”

  “It must be frustrating,” he said.

  Simone eyed him again, somewhere between turned on and wary. “What must be frustrating?” she said.

  Holt looked her up and down one more time, taking a snapshot. There was no going back. This was when it would begin. He was her Dom. He’d tell her the truth.

  “You’re probably still pretty mad about how things ended between us,” he said. “And then, in the bathroom just now, you just realized how much you still need this anyway. That would frustrate anyone.”

  Her eyes flashed angry. He didn’t blame her. It also didn’t change anything.

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she said with a little bitterness. But she didn’t argue about it either. He could see she was getting turned on all over again. Her own body telling the truth she needed to hear. “I don’t want to get back together, Holt.”

  He didn’t believe her. But it didn’t matter. He would work with it.

  “Who said anything about getting back together?” he said. “That’s just your injured pride talking. But you’re a sub. And pride, in this context, doesn’t suit you.”

  He could hear her intake of breath from across the room.

  “This isn’t helping,” she said.

  Holt looked her up and down. Her nipples were hard, she was breathing fast, but her shoulders were relaxed.

  “Yes it is,” he said.

  “But I wish it weren’t,” she said back.

  “Life isn’t fair,” Holt said, and he rose from his seat. “I’m not so concerned with your pride as I am with your safety. Especially now. Especially with this job. You will get what you need to keep yourself healthy, Simone. You decide where, and with whom. But you will take care of yourself. Understood?”

  He started to sweat as he said it. Just the idea of Simone with another Dom made him want to punch holes in walls, even though he knew, in his bones, she couldn’t do it. Didn’t matter. His desire for her was like a hurricane that swept everything up except the cool inner core, where he was most Dominant. It raged around him while he watched from the calm center, completely focused on the woman who would be his sub again, even if she didn’t know it yet. Holt knew he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To help her. To make amends.

  Because Simone was the only woman for him, whether she knew it herself yet or not. Holt knew what she needed.

  And he was going to make sure she got it.

  Simone needed to look away. She needed to, or she’d fall into Holt’s eyes, and lose her mind. Her mouth was dry and her panties were wet, and she didn’t have another spare. Her whole body was focused on Holt. How close he was. How long it would take him to cross the room. How likely he was to touch her.

  The last thing he said was still ringing in her ears: You will take care of yourself. The idea of being with another Dom was ridiculous to her when she had Holt Manning standing in front of her. And yet…

  The blank contract caught Simone’s eye again and she balled her hands into fists.

  The nerve of Gavin!

  Holt had pushed Simone away. He had broken up with her. Having some other Dom ordering her Dom to take her back after all this time, when he clearly didn’t want her, was some next-level cruelty.

  And then Holt…

  Holt had just told her she would take care of herself. She would get what she needed. And there was no denying what that meant.

  “Was that an order?”

  “You know it was.”

  “I don’t need you protecting me,” she said. “And only I get to say if I’m ready to be a submissive again. No one else.”

  She felt Holt’s gaze on her before she even looked up. The trail of heat was unmistakable.

  “Of course,” he said. “But you are ready. More than that. You need it.”

  Simone’s heart dropped to the soles of her feet. Three words that he’d so often murmured into her ear, his breath hot on her hair, his body pressed long against her back. She tried to pretend her heart wasn’t hammering her ribcage, and gripped the armrests of her chair so her hands wouldn’t shake.

  Holt’s response came in the form of a smolder. It looked like he wanted to take her on Gavin’s desk right there—just flip her over, shove her face-first in the blotter, yank her skirt up. He’d ruin her outfit all over again.

  Simone blinked, and tried to focus. Yes, she wanted him. She wanted him so much it was like a haze of desire clouded her every thought. But they didn’t work. She would just disappoint him again. And then she’d end up with a broken heart.

  But if they didn’t get back together…

  Could she do that? Could she take his domination without wanting more?

  “Why are you doing this?” she said softly.

  “This is something you need,” Holt said. “And it’s something I need to do. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “This is insane.”

  “No hiding,” Holt growled. “No lying. No drinking. You tell me when you’re in trouble, and in turn I will be more watchful, and more attentive, than I was before. No strings.” The muscles in his square jaw flexed.

  A fizzing warmth spread over Simone’s skin, making her hair stand on end.

  Those were his terms.

  Holt was treating this like a negotiation.

  “You think the problem was that you weren’t attentive enough?” she said. The laugh that bubbled to the surface was empty of mirth. “I screwed up my life without any help from you, thank you very much. I know that’s not much of an accomplishment, but it is mine, and I’m gonna keep it.”

  If all she had left was taking responsibility, she would take it. And she’d turned herself around, at least on the surface, at least where people could see. She’d done a good job of it.

  And she would be celibate for the rest of her life before she let Holt see that she was still, on the inside, kind of mess. Because seeing that look on his face one more time—that look of disappointment—that would break her heart into so many pieces, she’d never put it back together again.

  Holt walked toward her, and there was suddenly much less space in the room. He wasn’t touching her but it felt like the weight of his gaze was stroking her through her clothes anyway.

  In fact, that expression on his face was one she recognized. Usually from right before he stripped her down and did what he wanted with her.

  But Holt didn’t touch her. He circled the desk to grab a pen, and when his thumb clicked it, the sound whip-cracked through the room.

  Simone sucked in a breath.

  “You wo
n’t answer now,” Holt said. He clicked the pen again and set it down.

  Then he pinned her with that gaze.

  “Dinner. Here. We’ll discuss it then,” Holt said.

  It was another order, of course.

  And that dangerous little thrill that raced up her spine told Simone that she was going to follow it.

  6

  Well, no way in hell Simone was going to go back to feeling normal after a morning like that, but she did have work to do.

  Fortunately, “work” at that moment meant going over the brand-new Club Volare New Orleans press package with two of her best friends, Charlene Bastien and Olivia Colson. Charlene now owned the best restaurant in NOLA, Charlie’s Bistro, and she had been Simone’s late sister’s childhood friend, so she knew Simone almost annoyingly well. And Olivia, once a “semi-famous” actress, as she would put it, was impossibly sweet. Together the two women were the heart of the club, and Olivia’s husband and Dom, Gavin, knew it.

  And working at Club Volare was nice. No doubt about that. There was almost nothing Simone would rather do than get details from Charlene and Olivia to flesh out their press package.

  She just wished they weren’t quite so perceptive. They’d both seen her come out of that office after Holt, and Simone kept waiting for the hammer to drop, but so far: nada. So of course Simone was on tenterhooks.

  She couldn’t get the thought of that contract, burning a hole in Gavin’s desk, out of her mind. Every time she thought about it, her inner muscles clenched and she could feel the start of that warm glow deep in her core, and then she’d have to douse it with some cold reality: Holt had broken her heart. And nothing had changed. She wasn’t drinking, but she wasn’t exactly mess-free, as the unread texts on her phone kept reminding her.

  But Holt had reminded her of something else, too: how much BDSM used to relieve the pressure of everything in life. Simone hated the idea of needing anything that much, especially after rehab, but she could barely focus.

  “You ok, hon?” Charlene asked. There was a raised eyebrow.

  Simone sighed. Here it comes.

  “Just let me lie and say yes?” she said. “At least until we get through this press package. I need to have accomplished something today.”

  “Hmm,” Charlene said.

  Olivia laughed and picked up another packet of photos. “Leave her alone.”

  “No.”

  “Will you accept ‘ok-ish’?” Simone begged, but now she was smiling too.

  “For now,” Charlene allowed. “But you are on warning, you hear me?”

  Simone laughed, and that did the trick. She watched her friends pore over the many stock photos and headshots and design samples that she had assembled and tried to relax.

  But of course Charlene was right. The truth was she hadn’t felt this wound-up since before she’d gotten sober. Simone had been incredibly lucky, overall. She’d had her friends, and once she got into rehab it hadn’t actually taken that long for the cravings to go away. She’d learned it worked differently for everybody, and for her drinking had primarily been an escape. She’d seen other people who had it way, way worse, whose genes totally screwed them over and made it incredibly hard to quit, or who hadn’t had people to help them get their lives back on track before deep physical dependency took hold. Simone had it pretty freaking good, in comparison.

  But she was always aware of the fear that she might fall off the wagon. Not even by drinking, necessarily, but by letting her life spin out of control and then doing something crazy to blow it all up before it all came crashing down on its own. That was something she’d learned in rehab—her instinct was to run away from her feelings, until they built up to the point of Mount Vesuvius-levels of eruption.

  And BDSM had always been her outlet. Obviously it hadn’t been enough on its own, but it had been necessary. And now…

  Her feelings were very, very conflicted. At least she had that going for her; even if she wanted to, Simone wouldn’t know what direction to run in to get away from them. And she definitely didn’t know if she even wanted to be in a relationship with Holt again, no matter how fast he made her heart beat or how wet he made her panties. She’d fallen crazy in love with him at an equally crazy time in her life, but one thing she was sure of: Holt was the kind of guy who lived by rules and control and a rigid sense of responsibility. That was just who he was. Simone was…not that. She probably never would be that.

  In fact, she didn’t think she wanted to be that. She might be a mess, but Simone still liked herself. Most of the time.

  Maybe the truth was that she and Holt had never been romantically compatible. Even if they were beyond physically compatible. Even if he was the best Dom she’d ever had. Maybe…

  “Earth to Simone,” Charlene said. Now the other eyebrow was up.

  Damn.

  Simone must have looked like a dear in headlights, because Olivia stepped right in, holding up one of the eight-by-ten glossies.

  “This guy is gorgeous, but is he maybe too pretty to be the face of the club?” Olivia’s head was tipped to the side, ear resting on her shoulder as she nibbled her thumbnail thoughtfully. Gavin’s wife looked exhausted—poor thing.

  “I will not tell Gavin you said that,” Simone said. “The gorgeous part, anyway. You okay? Did the babies not sleep last night?”

  Olivia perked up with a grin. “Oh, no. Actually Charlene was babysitting overnight for us. I’d have gotten more sleep home with the twins, to be honest, because they are perfect little snooze-bugs. We hit the baby lottery.”

  “Uh-huh. If you weren’t up with the kids, then why do you look like you’re slowly turning into a really gorgeous zombie?” Charlene asked, poking her friend gently in the shoulder.

  That only made Olivia laugh harder. “Well, like I said. If I’d been home with the twins…I wouldn’t have been alone with Gavin.”

  “Ooh.” Simone smiled. “I see.”

  “We get our time where we can,” Olivia said with all the dignity she could muster. But her cheeks were bright red, and it was a beautiful color on her. Love suited the actress well. She always looked so happy with Gavin, and vice versa. Trust them to be up all night because they were crawling on each other like newlyweds when they could have been sleeping.

  Simone did miss that feeling.

  She sighed, and then realized both the other women were looking at her again.

  “Did my husband do something sneaky?” Olivia asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Possibly,” Simone said.

  “Something to do with Holt?” Charlene pressed on. The two of them were absolutely ruthless.

  “Also possibly,” Simone said. “Ok, fine, definitely. But it’s a non-starter. I’ve got this thing about not making the same mistake twice anymore. Or three times, at most.”

  Charlene smiled. “You don’t have to marry him, you know.”

  “This is a good point,” Olivia said, nodding sagely.

  Simone looked from one to the other. “You knew! You were both in on it!”

  “So sue us,” Charlene said. “Not my idea, and not saying I approve, but I have been a little worried about you. Not—” Charlene raised her hand, stifling Simone’s objection. “Not because I think you’re going to slip up or anything, but because you’re not happy. Sorry, lady, but we love you, so, you know. Deal with it.”

  “You say that like it’s easy,” Simone grumbled. “You think it’s easy to go without a Dom? Believe me, it is not.”

  “So don’t,” Olivia said. The normally smiling woman was dead serious.

  Ruthless. The both of them.

  Simone shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like. He makes me so…weak.”

  “Bullcrap,” Charlene said. “You faced your demons on your own and you beat them. You are strong as hell, Simone Delavigne. Don’t pretend like you’re some helpless little thing who is just powerless to prevent Holt Manning from breaking your heart all over again. I’ve known you since you were five
years old, and I know for a fact that—”

  “I swear to God, Char, if you start telling embarrassing stories about my childhood again, I will ask Luke to provide the pictures for the press package.”

  Charlene turned bright red. Olivia cackled.

  “I think the point Char is trying to make is that maybe it’s ok to think about what you want and need for once, rather than what you can’t let yourself do? You have to stop being afraid at some point, right?” Olivia said.

  Simone stared. She was expecting the blindside to come from Charlene, and then Olivia had crept in like some kind of insightful friend sniper. Why hadn’t Simone known she was simply…afraid?

  “Besides, you have to find some way of blowing off steam,” Olivia said. “Trust me, having to abstain when the babies made my blood pressure go haywire was worse than you think. It messes with your mind.”

  Simone thought about the texts on her phone, and all the veiled threats. Olivia was more right than she knew.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “it’s about balance. More stress, more steam. The point is, we all trust you to be able to play at the club again. With whoever.”

  “I like this one,” Charlene announced. She’d been feverishly pouring over the pile of headshots ever since Simone had made that crack about asking Luke for a photo. Char had probably gotten as little sleep as Olivia thanks to Luke, but she was as well put together as always. She kept her eye on the ball. “But maybe just stick to the external shots of the property, and other shots from around New Orleans. Sound good?”

  “I can definitely work with that,” Simone said.

  “Great.” Charlene looked way too happy to be done with approving the press package, but that was because Luke had just sauntered into the dining room, and she was on her feet to greet him in a heartbeat.

  Simone smiled with her chin propped on her hand, watching them greet each other like Luke had just come back from months at sea or something. They were as bad as Olivia and Gavin. It wouldn’t be long before Charlene was choosing steamy nights with her hubby over sleeping-without-children time and regretting that decision the next day, just like Olivia.