Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1)

by Lacie Thorne

  “Hey, don’t you two start in here. You broke my grandmother’s crystal vase the last time, remember?”

  Becks set a steaming mug on the table beside her husband and took his hand from the armrest, her pale skin contrasting sharply with his. Our mixed Creole ancestry provided us with naturally bronzed skin, but Rebecca never acquired so much as a tan, not even in the harsh New Orleans summer.

  She carefully placed Ian’s fingers on the mug, leaving him to wrap them around the handle so that he wouldn’t burn himself. It was a move I’d seen her perfect over the years, one that was automatic after she’d been married to my younger brother for more than a decade.

  “Sorry, Becks.” I leaned in and kissed her pink cheek. “On the plus side, your grandmother likes me better than Ian.”

  Rebecca rolled her hazel eyes even as Ian kicked one foot in my direction. Lucky for him, he missed his wife’s long legs. I sidestepped his foot and crouched low to greet Lulu where she’d curled up next to Ian. Her tail swished and thumped against the sofa cushions in excitement, her pink tongue hanging out as she panted at me.

  I buried my hands in her dense coat, her fur almost white despite being a golden retriever. Lulu had been by Ian’s side longer than Rebecca, the fur around her eyes beginning to show signs of aging. Becks tried to convince Ian it was time to look for another Seeing Eye dog as Lulu edged into old age, but the man was stubborn and refused her suggestions.

  “Hi, beautiful.” I scratched behind her ears while she licked at my wrist. “How’s my favorite girl? Wait. Don’t tell Becks I said that or she might get jealous.”

  Rebecca laughed from behind me while Ian snorted. “Stop harassing my wife and dog. Tell me how it went with the little fawn.”

  I frowned at his words, giving Lulu one last scratch before rising to my feet. “Little fawn?”

  Ian sipped at his hot beverage, the scent of coffee filling the spacious living room. “Appropriate, wouldn’t you agree? After all, she’s taking her first steps into this world. Now sit, tell me how it went.”

  I shook my head at the command but took a seat opposite him. Lulu whined at my departure but stayed beside Ian, moving to snuggle into his side.

  “I’ll leave you two to your business.”

  Becks grasped her husband’s knee as she moved to leave the room. He caught her wrist with his free hand, stopping her with a tight frown.

  “You know you don’t have to go,” he told her.

  She cupped his cheek and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth while I glanced away and cleared my throat. The couple ignored me, continuing their display of affection as though I didn’t sit a few feet away from them.

  “I know, but people deserve discretion. It’s one thing for me to see the personal files and another to sit here while you two discuss our newest member.”

  “She’s not really a member—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Privacy in all things, Ian. Isn’t that what we strive for here?”

  He grunted in response but let Becks slip from the room. I watched as his head tilted toward her retreating figure, a look of concentration clouding his features. With his wife gone, Ian’s free hand settled into Lulu’s coat, absently rubbing his fingers over her neck. Her eyes closed moments later, her snores echoing through the room as Ian focused back on me.

  “The fawn,” he said, nudging the conversation.

  “Stop calling her that.”

  While it may have been appropriate, I didn’t like Ian having a pet name for her. With a sigh, I thought back to my meeting with Em, replaying my brief time with her and judging what I should tell my brother. I smiled at the memory of her fumbled greeting and the fidgeting that sent rustling sounds across the room. It was obvious she was nervous, but she’d relaxed easily enough.

  “She’s shy and timid, but I think with a bit of time and encouragement, she’ll be fine.”

  “That’s it?” Ian asked. “I send you in there to judge her mindset and that’s the best you can do?”

  “I thought you sent me to calm her, Ian.”

  He waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, but I was hoping for more feedback.”

  I gritted my teeth, knowing what I had to tell him and hating that I’d have to divulge Em’s secret. She’d left the piece of information out of her file for a reason, but I also knew Ian needed to know in order to set her up with the right match. Privacy was important, but so was honesty.

  “Em’s file is incomplete.”

  Ian gaped. “Incomplete how?”

  “She’s a virgin.”

  Ian cursed under his breath, and Lulu’s ears pricked with his sudden outburst. “She told you that? She must have taken quite a liking to you to offer such a personal bit of information. Especially when she neglected to add that snippet of information on her form.”

  “Are you forgetting I’m the more charming brother?” I ignored Ian’s scowl. “Actually, we—clicked. I know that wasn’t the plan—”

  “You’re right, it wasn’t the plan.” Ian set his mug down on the table, feeling for the right spot with his free hand. “Your job was to put her at ease. Be your charming fucking self and calm her damn nerves. You weren’t supposed to click.”

  “And why is that so bad?” I asked.

  Ian’s mouth tightened. “You’re not a member of The Noire House. I asked you to do me a favor, the same thing I would have done myself had you not been available. I would have told her who I was and not one of her potential dates for the evening. You should have explained that as well.”

  “I was going to, but then—”

  Then she’d spoken, and I’d been transfixed. With a nervous greeting and an introduction, I’d been too focused on her to remember why I sat in the dark, staring into blackness and wishing for her face. How did I explain that to my little brother? How did I explain the sudden connection I’d felt towards the woman I was meant to calm and prepare for this journey?

  “Look, Sam, I’m not trying to be a dick.” He rubbed at his brow as he spoke, a familiar sign he was struggling to find the right words. “I’m merely thinking about the girl. She came here for a reason, and it’s my job to help her with that. Given this new piece of information, I’m even more concerned about her than I was when I asked you to meet with her first.”

  I frowned at him, my eyes travelling to where his hands had returned to petting Lulu.

  “Whether you clicked or not is up to her. Frankly, I’m not convinced you’d be the right match for our little fawn. She needs someone gentler to ease her into the lifestyle—”

  “Is that why you picked CT?” I interrupted him with a hard tone, my agitation fraying the ends of my control.

  Ian sighed. “My reasons are my own, but he’ll have to be cut now that you’ve discovered she wasn’t entirely forthcoming with details. I’ll see to it that he’s informed, but we’re not discussing him right now.” Ian’s face turned in my direction, his features tightening. “Sam, if she chooses you, that’s one thing, but I need you to promise me you won’t decide for her. Let her test the waters with others. She deserves that much, don’t you think?”

  I growled under my breath, hating when he was right.

  Chapter Three

  Emily

  “He sounds like a pussy.”

  I glared at Garret over the rim of my cup, having just told him the whole story of my Saturday night at The Noire House. Of course, I’d spared no detail about SR. Well, at least besides his initials. I thought that would be a betrayal, of sorts.

  “Why must men insist on using that part of female anatomy as an insult?” I asked him with a huff. “And he wasn’t a pussy. He was sweet and—and safe. He made me feel comfortable.”

  “I thought you wanted a Dominant, Emmy. Not a puppy.” Garret pegged me with a serious expression, using his preferred shortening of my full name. He was the only one I let get away with it. “Safe, yes. Sweet?” He sighed. “I don’t know if that’s really what you want.”

  I understood what he was
saying and in part, I agreed. I hadn’t expected to be drawn to someone like SR. Oh, I’d tried, as Garret well knew. My ex-boyfriend was the epitome of sweet. The ideal American boy-next-door. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of a four-month-old St. Bernard, complete with shaggy brown hair and nearly twice my size.

  Aidan had been overeager. While he was always gentle, he inevitably left bruises due to clumsy handling. I still harbored shame it was in those moments that I liked him best. He, on the other hand, had freaked at every faint discoloration of my skin. I’d tried to brush it off on multiple occasions by blaming it on my job, and the fact I bruised with exceptional ease.

  It didn’t work.

  Our relationship taught me many things, though, and for that, I would never regret our time together. Whether he felt the same way or not, I wasn’t sure. It had been over a year since we’d broken up, and I hadn’t seen or heard from him.

  “Just be careful, Em.” Garret smiled in a sad curve of his lips. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, but I also don’t want to see you fall for the wrong sort of man again.”

  Yes, Garret knew too that while Aidan and I hadn’t lasted, I had formed deep feelings for him. A flaw I’d been working on for years. Don’t get attached too easily. I had an incurable habit of forming bonds with people that seemed to go only one way. Or at least, my attachment was much greater than theirs.

  Garret was the first person I ever felt loved me as much as I loved him. Of course, that made me love him even more, and I feared my curse was bound to follow me into our relationship at some point. For now though, I nodded at my dear friend. “Remind me again why we didn’t work.”

  Garret groaned, a deep male sound that sent tingles all along my skin. “Don’t even tempt me, little one. You know full well that given half the chance, I’d have you collared and chained in a heartbeat.”

  And there it was, the reason why we’d very quickly realized our kinks didn’t match.

  I’d met Garret before I knew this side of him. He’d seen me dance in Beauty and The Beast and requested a private meeting. It was my first time dancing principal, and I was both thrilled and terrified someone wanted to meet me.

  Garret was of the wealthy upper-class, and his generous donations to my ballet company meant he could pull strings like that. He’d asked me to dinner, and as a naive girl, I’d agreed. Our innocent dinner led to drinks and more serious dates. By our fourth meal together, we’d established three things for sure.

  One, we got along well and never wanted for conversation topics.

  Two, we were both—secretly—very kinky.

  And three, our kinks did not match, no matter how hard we tried to compromise in order to make it work.

  The collar was the deal breaker every time. While the idea of power exchange—giving someone else control of my body for a few hours at a time—turned me on, I didn’t want to hand over the reins completely. I wanted a bit of bondage and kinky play in my sex life, not my everyday life.

  For Garret, it was a 24/7 package deal, complete with permanent collar, and I couldn’t do that. Not even for him. He’d tried to convince me he could do without it and only role play in the bedroom, but I feared he’d grow to resent me for making him give up that part of himself. It wasn’t worth losing him over, so I held firm in denying him.

  Five years later, he stood as my best friend, the person I loved most in this world. I doubted our relationship was normal. A childhood friend had once told me a man and a woman could never be just friends. More than that, Garret and I were Dominant and submissive. I wondered about our relationship, but since he was the only other kinky person I knew, I had no reference. At least until now.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I told him, teasing him with a serious expression that melted into a challenging grin.

  “Fuck, Emmy. Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give me the wrong impression.”

  I laughed and returned my focus to the cooling café au lait in my hands.

  “Hey, listen,” he said, his tone lighter as we switched topics. “I have some news that’s not public knowledge. Want to be ahead of your colleagues?”

  I frowned up at him. “What could you possibly know that involves my company?”

  Garret smiled, wide and full, gleeful mischief shining in his blue eyes. “An old friend of mine recently moved back to town. He’s been in New York for almost a decade, choreographing for one of the big companies there.”

  My eyes widened, never having heard Garret mention he had such a friend.

  “He resigned last year because he missed his hometown. His family’s here and—”

  “Garret, I love you,” I interrupted. “But please get to the point about how this involves me and my ballet company.”

  He chuckled, and I found myself comparing the sound to that of SR’s laugh.

  “Well, you see, he’s starting his own company here in Nola. The rest of the dance world doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll be visiting the local shows as he scouts new talent. I’m sure he’ll set up auditions as well, but for now, it’s all hush hush.” He gave me his serious look, the one I imagined he used on the collared women crawling around his feet. “Don’t tell another soul about this, Emmy. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” I swore, though he wouldn’t have told me if he thought for a moment I’d spill the secret.

  “Good.” Garret’s expression softened as he smiled at me. “I bought two tickets to Phantom of the Opera this morning. Want to know which night we’ll be there?”

  “I—I’m not sure. Maybe it’s better if I don’t know. It might make me nervous, and then I’ll mess up.”

  Garret laughed. “As if Miss Perfect-Ballerina could ever mess up.”

  I didn’t share his confidence, so I said nothing, letting him decide if he told me or not.

  “Okay, a surprise it is, then. Really, Emmy, you should believe in your talent more.” He shook his head in a confused dismissal. “You went from soloist at nineteen to a principal at twenty-one. You’re a local ballet legend, and yet you can’t seem to remember that half the time.”

  “A legend who took several months off last year due to a back injury,” I muttered before drinking the last sip of my coffee.

  Garret sighed and took my hand. His lips brushed over the back of my palm and ran along my knuckles. His breath tickled my skin as he whispered. “I think you need a Dom very soon, Em. Perhaps he’ll be able to knock some sense into you. Or at least ensure you stop being so hard on yourself.”

  He dropped my hand and cleared his throat. I stared at him, my hand still buzzing as he ran his fingers through his inky black hair and smiled. “Now, shall we go shop for your mask? Since your sweet-safe-pussy-dom wants personal, we best get started.”

  ***

  I’d just finished my Monday morning dance class when I checked my phone and found a missed call from The Noire House. I glanced around the studio before slipping into a small alcove and called them back. A woman with a pleasant voice answered, her tone bright and cheerful.

  “The Noire House, Rebecca speaking.”

  “Hi, um. This is Emily Charles. I got a message from you.”

  “Miss Charles, thank you for returning my call.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all.” Her voice rose an octave, not in a concerning way but rather in surprise. “I merely called because one of the gentlemen you met with the other night requested another blind date with you. That is, before the masquerade mixer next Sunday.” She paused just a moment. “Would you be willing to do that?”

  I picked at some of the peeling paint on a door. A squeal of laughter from behind me drew my attention to the dancers all around the hallways.

  “Miss Charles? Did you hear me?”

  “Um, yes. Of course.” I stumbled over the words. “Could—could you tell me who? I mean, of course not his name, but—”

  A soft laugh came through the speaker. “He told me to tell you that it was SR w
ho wished to meet with you again.”

  A smile spread across my lips.

  “Miss Charles, will you accept?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, yeah sure. I mean, yes. Of course I’ll accept.”

  Rebecca laughed, a soft, smothered sound that muffled through the phone just as someone called my name from the nearest studio. “When would be a suitable day and time?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind furiously going through my schedule for the next week. “Actually, things are very tight for me, and I work all day and in the evenings—”

  “Just give me a day and a time,” Rebecca told me, calm and easy. “SR will make whatever arrangements are necessary.”

  “Oh, well.” I frowned, ignoring Joel as he bellowed my name again. “If he’s sure, I could do tomorrow night. I finish work around ten-thirty so I’d only be able to be at The Noire House after eleven.” I tilted my head even though she couldn’t see me. “To be honest, it would be better to make it after eleven-thirty. I’m sorry.”

  Normally a Monday night would be fine as we didn’t run shows on Sundays and Mondays, but I’d already made arrangements. Garret had invited me to dinner with his father and I’d agreed. Mr. Lacroix had become somewhat of a father figure for me in the years his son and I had been friends. In fact, he was more of a parent to me than even my own mother or father.

  “Don’t apologize,” she told me. “I shall relay the information to SR and send you a text to confirm your meeting.”

  “Thank you.”

  With a short goodbye, I ended the call. My heart pounded a steady beat in my ears, and my mouth had gone dry. SR wanted to see me again. I couldn’t seem to process the reality of the phone call or what this meant.

  “Emily, haven’t you heard me calling you?”

  I turned and gestured to my phone. “Sorry, I had a call.”

  Joel scowled at me. “Come on. Antoine’s looking for you.”

  ***

  As expected, I didn’t make it out of the theatre before eleven the next night. My hair still swept up into a French twist, I raced through the city and headed for The Noire House. The clock on the dashboard read eleven-twenty-eight by the time I stopped in front of the plantation-style home.