by Brandi Evans
Viv immediately turned to him, a flower turning toward the sun, and cuddled close.
He couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, Vivian Michaels.” He kissed the top of her head. “So much.”
She snuggled closer. “Love you too.”
He closed his eyes. He’d never been happier than he was at this moment. Never. Vivian had looked into his world, into him, and she hadn’t fled. She’d stood tall as she’d navigated the uncharted waters that were his world. The violent waves had battered her, threatened to drown her, but she’d found her own way out of the tumultuous sea. And in the end, they’d grown closer.
But what would happen to this newfound closeness if she ever learned the true reason he’d first come to her side as she’d battled cancer?
Sorrow threatened to seize control of this precious moment. He didn’t want to tell her, but with her upcoming divorce looming, the truth might come out regardless. And he didn’t want her to find out that way. No, he had to tell her.
But how?
How the fuck did he tell the woman he loved her husband had offered to pay him to keep her company while she’d underwent chemo?
Chapter Eleven
Something wasn’t right.
Vivian set the plate of fresh fruit and sandwiches she’d prepared on the breakfast table and dropped onto one of the accompanying chairs. The past couple of days had been simply incredible. She and Brock had spent their days working on their design for the new executive complex, and they’d spent their evenings at the club, learning, growing, bonding.
He’d taught her so much in such a short time, showed her things about passion she’d never dreamed, and much to her surprise, she’d become “at home” at the club, so long as she was by his side. Hell, she’d even run into Steel a few more times, and while he still gave her the creeps, she no longer freaked around him. She and Brock were bonding on a level so much greater than she’d even known possible.
It was all crazy. Despite how at ease she was beginning to feel, she still had trouble completely wrapping her mind around the lifestyle. In a million years, she’d never have expected experiencing the lifestyle to be so damn incredible. The whips, chains, leather and submission. Damn. Not that she was complaining—at least she didn’t think she was, but his world of leather and bondage was still such a big mystery.
The idea of submission both thrilled and terrified her, confused her too. At the club and in the bedroom, he was impressively dominant, directing nearly every second of their passion, but the rest of the time, he was the same old Brock she’d fallen in love with. He didn’t try to control her, didn’t try to force her to be something she wasn’t. It was as if two different Brocks resided in the same body—the BDSM Dom and the caring, equal partner—and bless her, she wanted to get to know them both.
So why did she feel as if Brock was still hiding something from her?
Maybe it came from the fact she’d spent nearly ten years with a man she’d known was lying about everything. Going from a relationship where she assumed her partner was lying to one where she could take his words at face value wasn’t going to be easy. Some habits were hard to break, but she loved Brock and he loved her too.
So why couldn’t she shake the feeling he was hiding something from her?
Or maybe it was her own guilt manifesting. She’d approached Brock under the guise of revenge sex, even though the revenge part of her plan was bogus. Could her dishonest approach be the source behind her unease? Surely not. The reason she’d first come to him didn’t matter anymore. Things between them had progressed past the point of anything she could have imagined. But still, maybe she should just confess and get it out of her system.
Just in case.
From down the hall, a jubilant voice rang out. “Hot fuckin’ damn. Viv, baby, get in here.”
“On my way!” She grabbed their lunch and headed back to Brock.
When she’d ventured out to make their lunch, she’d left him at his drafting table to put some finishing touches on their design sketches. Sustenance and a bit of alone time had seemed appropriate. While they’d made pretty good progress on their design, they kept getting distracted by the sensation of how good his cock felt wedged in her pussy. And while the constant barrage of sex was fantastic, it was hindering their ability to concentrate for long stretches, at least on the mundane office complex design. The German castle job, on the other hand, their kinky sex was the perfect inspiration for that job.
Why again had Brock passed on it?
“Sorry I took so long,” she said as she walked through the door. “I was surprised to see a fridge full of fruit so I decided to make a fruit salad to go with the—oh my god.”
Brock sat at his drafting table, his hand working feverishly over the sketch paper. The muscles of his back and arm twitched with the speed of his drawing, sexy and visible thanks to the fact he wore nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs.
She set the plate on his desk, right next to an open box of condoms. “How long was I in the kitchen? This wasn’t what you were working on when I left.”
“I know.” He didn’t turn from his work. “I had an inspiration.”
“Obviously.” She draped an arm over his shoulder and leaned in to study his new sketch. His idea consisted of a Picasso-esque “rectangle” that looked as if a sphere had been shoved into the middle. “Is the spiracle section gonna be a different material than the rest of the structure?”
“Yes. Glass. And I’m thinking this is where we’re going to put the big boardrooms. Just imagine…” He rolled his chair in front of his office window. “You’re sitting at a striking mahogany conference table looking at me, a.k.a. ‘The Man in Charge’. A wall made entirely of glass stretches behind me. Beyond that, downtown Dallas, the skyline, the blue Texas sky stretches on for miles and miles. Don’t you think that’ll look like—”
“God on his throne?”
He nodded, his lips curving in a triumphant smile.
“I love it.” She straddled his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck. “I really do. I’m picturing the space with minimal décor, not sparse, but nothing that will—”
“Take the focus and magnificence away from the illusion of god on his throne?”
“Exactly.” She cradled his shaved head between her palms. “We’re already finishing each other’s design sentences. Isn’t that a little freaky?”
“No. It’s fantastic.” He chuckled, drawing his knuckle down her cheek in the way she was quickly growing to love. “Do you think we’ll be able to get started on the model by dinner?”
“I doubt it. We still need to take inventory of what materials we have for the build and what we’ll still need. We may need to go on a supply run. But that said, if we stay on task, maybe we can get started after breakfast tomorrow.”
“Stay on task?” A grin played with the corners of his sexy lips. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of saying, ‘No more sex’, until we’re finished?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” she lied.
“That is unfortunate.” His hands crept below the hem of her t-shirt, circled her waist and pressed her down on his growing erection. “How am I supposed to concentrate on work with this hard-on?”
“You could start by letting me go,” she suggested even as she tightened her arms around him. “If we’re not so close, we might be able to think about work.”
“Doubt it. If a year apart didn’t change how much I wanted you, I doubt having you across the room wearing little more than my t-shirt will put a dent in my arousal.”
“Yeah, our separation didn’t change how much I wanted you either.” She covered his mouth with hers—but he took immediate control of the kiss.
One hand staying on her waist to keep her firmly against his growing length, the other one cupped around her neck. He kissed like he made love. With complete control, and she quickly slid into the role of his submissive. Strange how easily he’d done that to her.
He pulled back. “Oh you sexy
temptress. You say we need to control ourselves then you go and kiss me like that. I thought we had work to do.”
She couldn’t stop her lips from curving into a smile. “We do, but first I want to tell you something.” She rested her forehead against his. “I’m sure you already know this by now, but I didn’t show up at your door the other day just as a means of getting back at Eugene. I just used the exec suite as an excuse to spend time with you. To make love to you.” She kissed his nose. “I know it was stupid, but I was scared. I wanted to know whether the love I’d felt for you was real or a warped form of hero worship brought on by my chemo. I also wanted to know whether or not you felt the same way.”
“Oh Viv.” His eyes softened and he pressed his hands to her cheeks. “Of course I felt the same way, sweetheart.”
“I know that now. I do.” And since they’d broached the subject, she might as well ask something else that had been bothering her. “So why did you leave me back then, Brock?” Stephen’s words from the club came back to her. “Did it have something to do with what Eugene asked you to do?”
He closed his eyes, the pain on his face as palpable as the dimming erection pressing against her sex. Turmoil turned her stomach lining into a nuclear battleground.
“Walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Viv. You have to know that, and I didn’t want to. God, I didn’t want to but…”
His voice trailed off. She didn’t know what to do, what to say to him. This conversation was taking a turn she hadn’t expected. And that expression of his. Oh lord that tortured expression. She couldn’t bear to look at it.
She pulled his head to her chest and held him close. His arms turned to vises around her, and for a long time, only the steady rhythm of their combined breathing echoed through the room.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said eventually, his voice so soft she had to strain her ears to hear him. “You have to know that.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” she said automatically, even though things were far from okay. “It’s okay” were simply the only words she could conjure.
“No, Viv, it’s not okay. It’s—” He took a shaky breath as if digging deep to find the words to form his next sentence, and when he finally spoke, his words made no sense. “Can I tell you a story?”
“A story?”
“Please, Viv.” His arms threatened to squeeze the breath from her body. “I need to get this out.”
“Okay,” she whispered, closing her eyes to keep tears from escaping.
Why did it suddenly feel as if her life was at a tipping point?
Brock struggled to pull his wits together.
He’d kept the truth from her long enough. She was no longer a sick woman in need of emotional protection. She was alive, vivacious, and she deserved to know what her bastard of a husband had asked of him, what Brock had agreed to do.
He focused solely on the story he needed to spin. With luck, taking on the role of “storyteller” would allow him to distance himself from the torment of emotions long enough to say what needed to be said. “Once upon a time, there was this Duke and Duchess, Lord Ebner and Lady Vala. Lord Ebner was a real asswipe. He put his career and personal desires above everything. Even above the welfare of his beautiful wife. Everyone despised Lord Ebner but adored Lady Vala. She was beautiful, full of fire and life, and she couldn’t help but captivate the heart and mind of any man she met, including the heart of Sir Bart, the Duke’s younger brother.
“Sir Bart was a bit of a troublemaker. He liked to indulge in the darker side of his nature. The Duke thought Sir Bart’s actions brought shame on the family. Sir Bart always said he didn’t care what his older brother thought of him, but deep down, he yearned to make amends to Lord Ebner for all he’d stolen from him.”
Brock wrenched his eyes closed, the truth of his statement reverberating through him. He’d never admitted his yearning out loud. Hell, he’d never admitted it to himself, but it didn’t negate the truth. Despite all the animosity, the lies, the bullshit, the fact Eugene had grown into a complete shithead, Brock still loved his brother and he felt guilty for all he’d stolen.
Eugene hadn’t been the product of an extramarital affair, an affair which had created a broken family. Eugene hadn’t been the only child of a doting mother and father. Eugene hadn’t been the one who’d gotten to grow up in “the perfect family”.
Brock had—something Eugene had never let him forget. Brock had gotten everything except Vivian, and now, god forgive him, he’d taken her too.
Brock held on to Viv for dear life as he continued. “Then one day, Lady Vala grew very ill. The doctors told the Duke his wife had very little chance of surviving her sickness and he should spend as much time with her as possible. But Lord Ebner ignored the doctor’s warning. Instead of spending every precious moment with his wife, he summoned his brother and asked Sir Bart to watch over Lady Vala while she was ill, and Sir Bart accepted.”
“Excuse me?” She turned to steel in his arms. “You were only there because Eugene asked you to stay with me? Oh god, I’m gonna be sick.”
She pushed away from him with more strength than her petite body seemed capable of producing and stumbled toward the chair on the other side of the room. The second her ass made contact, she leaned forward and rested her head between her knees.
Turmoil rolled hot in his stomach and he scrambled after her. He had to make her understand. The situation wasn’t as black and white as it appeared on the surface.
“Of course I wasn’t there just because Eugene asked me.” He stroked a hand down her back. “I was there because I—”
“Don’t touch me.” She pushed at him. “You’ve already done enough.”
But he wasn’t about to stop now. “Come on, baby, if you’ll let me explain you’ll see—”
“Explain what?” she spat. “That our entire relationship was built on a lie?”
Her words slammed into his gut and nearly doubled him over. “Of course our relationship’s not built on a lie. Everything we did, everything we shared and felt was real. I love you more than I’ve ever loved—”
“Bullshit.” She rocketed to her feet and slammed into him. Her fists pounded into his chest, over and over. “You didn’t love me. You never loved me. I was just an obligation.”
“Of course you weren’t!” He reined in his temper. Yelling would only make things worse. “Okay, fine. Eugene asked me to watch over you, but I would have done it anyway because I love you.”
“Liar.” She pushed away from him, looking as emotionally battered as he’d ever seen her. Tears streamed down her face.
The sight broke his heart.
“If you loved me,” she continued, “you would have stuck around. But you didn’t. The second I went into remission, poof, you were gone.”
He scrubbed his hands over his head. He couldn’t fucking think straight. Every word was coming out wrong.
“Things aren’t that simple, Vivian. I wanted to stay with you, I did, but I couldn’t do that to my brother, no matter how big an asshole he is…” Tears fought to get free, but he held them back. “Every day I had to talk myself out of finding you and begging you to run away with me.”
“But you didn’t come back. You broke my fucking heart.”
“And I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than you can imagine.”
“Liar!”
“Please, Viv, you need to understand that—”
“I don’t have to understand anything. This isn’t some sexual game you can control. I’m not some pathetic little sub you can order around.”
He pressed his hands to his temples. “God damn it, Vivian, calm down. This isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be. You’d see that if you’d—”
“If I’d what?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Calm down. You’re being irrational, Vivian.” Mockery saturated each word. “God, you sound just like your fucking brother.”
The punch of her words knocked him backward. He loved his brother,
but Eugene was a complete chauvinistic asshole. Brock took a step toward her. “That’s uncalled for. I’d never, ever treat you the way he does. I’d never hurt you the way he does.”
Her face scrunched up, a look of pure emotional anguish seizing her features. “But you did, Brock. You hurt me so much more than Eugene ever could.”
The sheer force of her revelation dropped him where he stood. His world imploded in on itself in a rush of regret and anger, and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t force himself to his feet. He couldn’t keep his wits together long enough to stop Vivian from running for the door, from disappearing from his life.
Quite possibly forever this time.
Chapter Twelve
Vivian sat on Anne’s cozy back patio, nestled comfortably on a cushioned rod-iron chair. Purple blooming wisteria sheltered her from the mighty Texas sun. Too bad it didn’t shelter her from the turmoil of Brock’s bombshell.
The soft swish of a sliding glass door announced Anne’s return. “Here you go, sweetie,” Anne said, placing a mug of coffee on the table in front of Viv. “It’s not Starbucks, but hopefully it’ll do.”
“Thank you. It’s perfect.” Viv took the cup. The heat from the liquid warmed her hands, a blessing considering how cold and numb she felt on the inside. Too bad there wasn’t coffee for the soul. “I’m sorry for barging in like this,” Viv said as Anne joined her at the table. “I just didn’t know where else to go. I can’t go home…”
And she didn’t want to. That fact was about the only thing she did know for certain.
A smile curved the other woman’s lips. “Like I’ve said ten times already, think nothing of it, sweetie. What are friends for?”
Viv forced herself to return Anne’s smile but she could only hold her lips in place for a brief moment.
“I’m gonna skip over pleasantries and whatnot,” Anne began, “and jump straight to the heart of the matter. Last I heard, things were going great between you and Brock. What happened?”
