by Chloe Cox
“That’s a great idea,” Charlene said, trying not to show how freaked out she was that she’d done it all over again—refused someone’s help for literally no good reason at all. And that this time it had screwed with her best friends’ wedding.
She tried not to look at Simone. Unfortunately that meant she looked right at the giant St. Andrew’s Cross hung on the wall at the other end of the room, and every crap-tastic memory of her ex that she’d been fighting off since she walked in came crashing through her mind all at once.
Chapter Sixteen
Luke muffled his cursing as much as he could. He didn’t know what appropriate behavior for a baby bridal shower was, but he was pretty sure letting loose a string of words he didn’t know he knew until just that moment would set the wrong tone. Besides, he was just here as a bodyguard.
Too bad his other job didn’t get the message.
“He said what?” he said into the phone. He wanted to make absolutely sure he got this right, because he was going to quote these words to Alan Crennel or Jimmy Walters or whoever was responsible for this.
“He said they were a family business,” Wanda sighed. “And that they had certain…standards. And that they didn’t want to do business with—”
“I get it,” Luke growled. Now he’d lost one of his oldest vendors. He was going to have to find someone else to pour the foundation for Gavin and Olivia’s house.
And it was pretty clearly part of this stupid sabotage campaign.
This needed handling, sooner rather than later. He didn’t know what the connection between Charlene’s ex and Alan Crennel was yet, but—
Luke looked at Charlene, surrounded by women on the other side of the room, and stopped.
Then he got up. Quickly.
Even from that distance, he could see how flushed she was. He could see a thin sheen of sweat on her chest, could see her shallow breathing. Coming here, spending time in the club, surrounded by reminders while Jimmy was still running around, had been a mistake. Allowing this to happen before he could help her rewire those parts of her memory had been a mistake.
He’d let her get hurt, and that was unacceptable.
Luke was going to make up for that, in more ways than one.
“So what locations have you been looking at?” Blue asked.
Olivia laughed. “Yeah, I’m dying to know where I’m getting married!”
Charlene’s heart was still thundering in her chest. Her skin felt hot and her stomach roiled, and she felt, basically, like garbage. But then she’d seen Luke, from the other side of the room, his eyes on hers, and her brain had come back online.
“The Rose Hill Country Club?” she said, her heart rate starting to slow as she took a deep breath. Luke was coming toward her. It gave her something to focus on. “I got lucky they had a cancellation, so I’m going over there later today actually.” She smiled at Olivia. “I was going to tell you when I had a signed contract.”
“Oh, I love that place,” Olivia said, and her eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. It was so nice to see her friend relaxed and enjoying her pregnancy again.
Charlene looked for him this time. Luke was almost to them, now. His eyes still fixed on her.
And then some other tall Dom crossed his path and crowded her vision, and she was left with the sight of the far wall, beyond Luke—and of the St. Andrew’s Cross.
Her breathing quickened. Her fingers dug into the chair. She didn’t even know why.
“You know I know one of the board members over there,” Blue was saying. “He’s a big fan of the cabaret, I can tell you that. I could give him a call just to make sure—”
“No,” Charlene said sharply. She was barely able to choke the word out, but it came reflexively, instinctively. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
And then Luke was there, walking swiftly around the edge of the table piled with gifts, right up to where she sat. She looked up at him as he extended his hand, her muscles already letting go, just the tiniest bit, at the sight of him.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
It wasn’t a request.
“Is everything ok?” Olivia’s worried voice pierced the Luke-inspired bubble around Charlene, and she snapped to, sort of.
“It’s ok,” she said quickly, and looked at Olivia as Luke helped her up. She hated to lie, but it was that or totally ruin Olivia’s day.
“Really,” Charlene said. “Just…secret wedding stuff.”
“Secret wedding stuff?”
“Top secret,” Luke said, his eyes on Charlene. “I’ll bring her back soon.”
Now it was Charlene’s turn to look at Luke. Soon? He’d just said it was a mistake to bring her here. Under what circumstances would he bring her back?
Oh…
Charlene tried to fight off a blush, and failed. Her body was in full revolt, and it reminded her that the only reason she wasn’t in full-blown panic attack mode was that Luke was, at this very moment, holding her hand.
Oh Lord. They really had to get out of there.
Luke had the same thought. Wordlessly he led her across the huge, open main floor of the club, the dark wood floors gleaming as her heels clicked her out and the sounds of the small party faded behind them. Wordlessly he opened the door for her. Wordlessly he followed her through it.
And then as soon as they were out on the big covered porch, in relative privacy, Charlene saw that he was going to be all about words.
“What happened?” he asked.
He got close to her again, close enough to touch her, and she could feel his eyes on her. Damn. Couldn’t they just pretend it hadn’t happened? The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it, especially to Luke.
“Charlene.”
His tone compelled her to look at him, and those eyes got her again. And then she realized just why she didn’t want him to know. To see her, like this. To talk about it.
Because even though Charlene knew she was too damaged to be Luke’s sub, she got some comfort from the fact that he wanted her. There. It was selfish, and it was small, but it was true. And if he knew how fucked up she was from a guy like Jimmy, there was no way he’d still want her.
“I don’t know,” she lied. “It was hot in there, and I didn’t have breakfast, so I think maybe my blood sugar…”
Luke’s expression remained unchanged as he crossed his arms. It was uncomfortably like being caught red-handed by a school principal who simply wasn’t buying any excuses, but it was already worlds better than trying to breathe the suffocating air in the club, full of swirling Jimmy memories.
“Anyway, what was your phone call about?” Charlene said. “Looked like it was pretty serious.”
“We’re not talking about that now.”
Charlene swallowed. “Can we please talk about that now instead?” she said softly.
Luke inhaled, his brows coming together in concern. He looked her over again, and she was reminded, again, that he saw everything.
“We lost a vendor on the house,” he said. “Crennel’s work. Not a big deal, there are others.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” he said. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel his eyes, on her cheek, her lips. “It was a mistake to let you come here.”
“Let me?”
He ignored her indignation, and even Charlene couldn’t keep it up for long. He was right, after all. And he seemed angry about it.
“You’re still living with the pain of what that asshole did to you,” he said. “And it’s stolen this from you. I’m taking you home so you can rest, and then we’ll talk about this later.”
Luke could turn up the Dom when he wanted to, but even when he wasn’t trying, it was there. It was part of what made him so damn sexy. And the way he’d said that, it was just an effortless command that made her want to obey, and…
That was the problem. Charlene felt the panic rising.
“No,” she said quickly. “Please.”
If he took
her home, right now, like this, she wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore. She would make a huge mistake.
She couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
“Please,” she said again, “I won’t forgive you if you drop work just to babysit me because I had a panic attack.”
Luke frowned.
“Then you won’t forgive me,” he said.
“I’m serious,” Charlene said, standing her ground. She took a big breath. “And I’m not—”
“I know you’re not,” Luke said, and for the first time he sounded frustrated. “You’re not my sub.”
Charlene couldn’t help it. She locked eyes with him, and the concern and Dominance she saw there nearly melted her to the porch. But it was more than that. It was that he cared.
“Why?” she asked. “Why do you do all this? Can’t you see that I’m…”
Too broken. Too damaged.
Luke frowned. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
It was an order.
Definitely an order.
And Charlene couldn’t take it. She kept looking at him, and just gave up. And just begged that he would see what she could handle right now.
He was a Dom, after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Luke cursed. Again.
If he were Charlene’s Dom he wouldn’t have brooked any discussion. He’d have taken her straight home. Would have calmed her.
Would have found a way to release all that tension.
“Boss?”
Wanda was looking at him. He’d growled again.
And he was what Charlene would call ‘growly’ because he wasn’t Charlene’s Dom, not yet, and when he’d looked into her eyes he’d seen that she wasn’t ready. And because of that, his presence was adding to her stress. So he’d sent her home with Holt as a bodyguard, instead, with strict orders that Holt call him if anything happened—that, he would not compromise on; she could keep the younger Dom out on her porch for all he cared, but she would not be without protection.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
“You want to do this later?” Wanda asked.
Luke shook his head. There wasn’t much to do now, anyway. The construction firm he’d subcontracted to pour the foundation was a lost cause; he wouldn’t call them and ask them to reconsider because he didn’t want to do business with people who would throw away a relationship based on a rumor. No, he was here to hold Wanda’s hand while she tried to find a replacement.
Which was a job that didn’t need doing. Wanda had it in hand once she got over her nervousness.
“No,” he said. “I want you to do it now. You’ve got it.”
Wanda stared at the Rolodex of contacts he’d pulled out. He was old school in some ways, and that was one of them. Those cards had all the info she would ever need.
“Will you please let me digitize this when I’m done?” she asked.
“No.”
Wanda smiled, and went back to the cards. She had a bunch of phone calls to make.
And Luke had some of his own to make. It was time to deal with Jimmy Walters, once and for all.
“Mr. Logan?”
His assistant Andre had come in without knocking, which was unusual. Luke still wasn’t used to having an assistant. He’d kind of forgotten about the poor man until right now.
Something was wrong.
“What’s up?”
“Someone named Holt keeps calling, and he won’t stop. He says someone named Charlene has taken off.”
Charlene was furious. At everything.
Which was a dangerous state to be in when driving. Calm it down, Earnhardt. But she could still see the expression on that old pickled Rose Hill Country Club board member’s face as he told her that under no circumstances would they be “letting” their club to anyone associated with Club Volare. She could still feel his contempt.
Matched only by how mad she was at herself for screwing this up royally, of course. Charlene didn’t know if her friend Blue had the kind of pull at the country club that would have turned that around—or, hell, if Olivia would even want to get married in a place that didn’t one hundred percent want them—but Blue had offered to help, and Charlene had just reflexively turned it down. Again. Granted, she’d been mid-mini panic attack at the time, but she still knew better.
Well, now. She knew better now. Because Luke hadn’t let it slide. She owed him that.
Which was why she felt more than a little guilty about ditching her replacement bodyguard.
Holt was a good guy and apparently a skilled Dom, and both Luke and Gavin trusted him, and Simone sure as hell loved him (even if she wouldn’t admit it), but Charlene needed to be alone. If the idea of Luke seeing her like this was unbearable, the idea of anyone else seeing her like this—vulnerable, messed up, her crazy totally showing—was only a little bit better. Charlene could barely admit to herself that Jimmy had clearly messed her up beyond all repair; if she couldn’t handle being in a BDSM club for a few minutes, it was worse than she thought. No one needed to see that.
Hell, if she couldn’t allow herself to submit to the only Dom she’d ever felt compelled to kneel before…literally kneel before, and then maybe on all fours…
Jesus, how am I even thinking about that right now?
The blare of an angry car horn cut into her thoughts, and Charlene realized she’d just cut someone off. Yeah, she was definitely too pissed off, too amped up, and too…too something, to be driving right now. She needed to get home and get into an ice-cold bath. She was sweating, her heart pounding, her hands gripping the wheel like she was in a demolition derby.
All because of her dillweed ex.
It was pretty obvious that Jimmy and Crennel and whoever the hell else had gotten to the Rose Hill Country Club first. It was pretty freaking clear that they’d been spreading their rumors all over. That this was all on purpose.
What drove her crazy was that they seemed to know what she was going to do before she even did it. Jimmy had gotten to the florist, the dressmaker, and now this country club. Did they call every single hall, club, or wedding vendor in the damn state, like she did? There was literally no way in hell that Jimmy did all that work, and yet he was still somehow one step ahead of her.
It was infuriating.
But not nearly as infuriating at pulling into her drive and finding Jimmy’s red truck sitting at the end of her driveway.
Charlene peeled into her own driveway, if that was even possible, glaring at Jimmy over the steering wheel as she did it. He was waiting for her, leaning against his truck, arms crossed, lips grinning. She wanted to knock that grin off of his face more than she’d ever wanted anything.
Well, almost anything.
Charlene forced thoughts of Luke out of her mind and jumped out of her car, slamming the door behind her. She was so mad there was a chance she might spontaneously develop the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes, in which case Jimmy Walters was not long for this world.
“Slow down there,” Jimmy said, still smiling as she stalked over to him.
“How did you know where I was going to be?” she demanded. “Have you been following me? Stalking me?”
As soon as she said it, the possibility made her feel sick to her stomach.
Jimmy just shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said.
Like she was the crazy one.
Her skin overheated as another wave of anger washed over her, crackling at the tips of her fingers, her head, her heart. There was a time when she would have stopped, would have wondered if he was right, if she was crazy. No longer.
“I mean,” she said slowly, biting off every bitter word, “how did you know to call the Rose Hill Country Club specifically and tell them a whole bunch of lies about Club Volare?”
If he’d been stalking her, it would make her feel absolutely sick. But knowing the truth was better. And not letting Jimmy get away with it was even better than that.
; But Jimmy just looked at her with what looked like genuine surprise, if he was genuine about anything. Then he laughed.
“I just tried the places we checked out together for our wedding, Char,” he said. The look he gave her was intimate. The kind of look you can only give someone when you’ve known them, when you have shared history.
It made Charlene’s skin crawl, and it made Jimmy smile again. He was proud of himself.
“I figured they’d be special to you,” he said easily. “And I was right.”
Charlene didn’t speak. She was too busy trying not to fall into the dark, gaping chasm that had just opened up in the pit of her stomach. Jimmy was right—she’d retread familiar ground. Everywhere he’d found her, it was because it was a place they’d been before. She’d retraced their steps while planning her friends’ wedding.
And Jimmy clearly thought that meant she wasn’t over him.
And for a split second, Charlene was afraid he was right.
Fuck that.
She balled her hands into fists and set her jaw. All that proved was that she still had excellent taste, and she’d wanted the very best for her friends. She’d barely thought about him, except in reference to what he’d taken from her by being such a monumental d-bag.
Family. Security. The ability to trust.
Submission.
“Why are you trying to destroy the club?” she asked, her calm tone surprising even her. Calm and cold. “Why do you even care?”
Well, that did it. Jimmy’s eyes burned, and for a second his face twisted up in rage before he caught himself. When he did, he sneered, covering his anger with…contempt? And Charlene understood.
After the way he’d treated Charlene, there was no way Gavin or Luke would let him anywhere near Club Volare, and the humiliation stung. He thought she was a member, that she had a Dom. He didn’t even know what he’d taken from her.
“For such a great club, it’s not too hard to convince people it’s a bad place,” he snarled.
Charlene remembered something Simone had said—that there were rumors, but no one would tell her what they were. That sinking feeling in the pit of Charlene’s stomach opened right back up.
