by Jane Henry
“It's nice to hear your voice,” Heidi said. “I've missed you! And gosh, I can't believe your exam is this Saturday. How's the—”
A loud wail came on the other side of the phone. Elena had completely forgotten Heidi and Dom were babysitting for Matteo and Hillary's baby, Francesca. “Ohh, poor baby,” Heidi's muffled voice said on the other side of the phone. “Dom, did she hurt herself?” She came back to the phone, snickering. “Uncle Dom tried to play peek-a-boo and apparently got a little carried away. The baby's crying like she's just seen the boogeyman.”
Elena giggled as the wails increased in volume and Heidi's voice grew distant as she tried to help her husband. “Honey, why don't you hand her to me, and I'll see if I can settle her down for bed?”
Heidi sighed, coming back on the phone. “I'm sorry, Elena. Francesca's getting really tired, and I think it's time I get her to bed. I can't really talk now. Are you okay, honey?”
“Oh, I'm fine!” Elena lied. “Of course, do what you need to do. Maybe we can catch up soon?”
“I'd like that,” Heidi said warmly. “Why don't you come over for dinner this week?”
“My schedule's crazy,” Elena said, truly not able to even come up with an hour of free time in which she could swing by Heidi and Dom's. “But I'll stay in touch and we can connect after the big exam? Sound good?”
“Yes! You have a good night,” Heidi said, and the two of them disconnected.
Elena tossed the phone on the seat, and frowned, suddenly feeling odd man out. Heidi and Dom had each other, and so did Hillary and Matteo. Alex and Alice were damn near inseparable. The girls at work were good friends, but everyone was busy, and it seemed everyone she knew was with a partner. She just needed to talk to someone.
As she pulled into the parking spot outside her apartment building, hope fluttered in her chest.
Maybe she'd be able to catch MisterHaven online. Maybe he'd be free. She'd had at least a brief chat with him every day this week, and was starting to really like him.
She'd been a regular reader on LadyHaven's blog, and had gotten to know MisterHaven through the eyes of his wife. Although she'd never met LadyHaven, she’d felt as if she were a friend. It was through LadyHaven's blog she'd come to know about dominance and submission to begin with. She’d known Alex was a dominant, but had only thought of it as some sort of sexual kink, and given that he was her brother, she was more than happy to leave the details of that alone. But she'd stumbled across the blog, and the way LadyHaven wrote, Elena was drawn to it. Over the years, she'd never missed a post. It had been like losing a real friend when LadyHaven had passed away. She knew if the two of them had been able to meet in real life, they'd have been close friends.
At first, she reached out to MisterHaven because she'd wanted to comfort him. It was hard enough for a husband to bury his wife. How much harder would it be for a dominant? A man who had not only loved and cared for his wife, but devoted himself to the daily meeting of her needs? There was something decidedly different about the intimacy between the couples she knew at The Club. It was somehow deeper, more connected, and she suspected, after several long online conversations with LadyHaven, that when a dominant or submissive in a long-term relationship lost a partner, a part of themselves actually died a little. For a brief moment, she thought of Blake, and how difficult it was losing his Josie, but she quickly brought herself back to the present.
Elena glanced at the clock and groaned. She had to get her studying in before it got much later. She would make herself something to eat, then pop on just for a few minutes. She sat at her laptop and booted it up, grinning when a flashing blue message bubble popped up on her screen. Though MisterHaven had her cell phone number, he’d told her he wanted to get to know her a little bit better before he used it.
MisterHaven: Hey. Just saying hi. How are you tonight?
She smiled and typed a response. He'd finally figured out how to change his screen name.
LanieLove: Hey. Just getting in before I settle down for a night of studying. Are you still there?
A few second later, a response popped up.
MisterHaven: Still here. ::waves hand::
Elena grinned.
LanieLove: Okay, give me five.
MisterHaven: Say please.
She bit her lip at the tease, feeling the latent command.
LanieLove: Give me five, PLEASE.
MisterHaven: No need to yell. Okay, wish granted.
She got up quickly, put her phone to charge on the base, and walked to the kitchen, her footsteps light. MisterHaven had been a dominant for decades, and she knew that it was more than friendship that drew her to him. His intrinsic desire to lead and protect came across in every interaction. The way he spoke of his late wife made Elena sigh like a lovesick teenager reading a heartfelt romance. The love between LadyHaven and MisterHaven had been beautiful and lasting, the stuff dreams were made of.
She opened the fridge and frowned. There was a half-wilted head of lettuce, a small Pyrex container of leftover enchiladas, and sundry other totally useless condiments and leftovers. Damn. She sighed, regretting not having grabbed something to eat at The Club or a drive-thru before heading home. Shutting the door to the fridge, she turned to her cabinets. They had little more to offer than her fridge had. She opened a nearly-empty jar of peanut butter, but put it back when she realized she was out of bread and crackers, finally settling on a foil-wrapped package of strawberry Pop-tarts.
She grabbed it, along with a can of soda and a bar of chocolate, her stomach now gnawing with hunger. Opening her laptop back up, she glanced at the time. Shit. Her foraging through the kitchen had taken nearly fifteen minutes.
LanieLove: Still there, MisterHaven?
MisterHaven: Still here. That was much longer than five minutes, though.
She could hear the reproach in his tone, and her heart hammered in her chest. Though they were only friends, he was an exacting man, as she well knew from both their interactions and having read LadyHaven's blog.
LanieLove: Sorry about that. I had trouble finding something to eat. I'm starving.
MisterHaven: Why did you have trouble finding something to eat?
LanieLove: I haven't gone grocery shopping, and there's hardly anything here. I settled on a gourmet package of Pop-tarts, chocolate, and soda. At least the sugar will help me get through studying tonight.
MisterHaven: Are you serious?
She paused and eyed the screen nervously, suddenly embarrassed.
LanieLove: Um, yes?
MisterHaven: Sweetheart, you'll crash with all that sugar. Nothing else to balance all those simple carbs isn't good for you.
Elena's pride stabbed at her and her response flew from her fingers before she could retract.
LanieLove: Thanks, MisterH, but I didn't ask your opinion. I don't need you to father me.
There was a pause and no response came on her screen. God, had she scared him away? Great. Just great. She needed a friend to talk to, and she'd gone ahead and chased off the only one who was even around. And did she have to be so snarky to this good, honest, dependable man who still mourned the loss of his wife?
Maybe Blake was right. Maybe she did need a spanking. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, just as a response came on the screen.
MisterHaven: I think it's time you and I had a straight talk, Lanie.
Her fingers shook nervously as she replied.
LanieLove: Yes, sir.
Her eyes widened, as she fruitlessly tried to hit the backspace. It was too late. She'd already hit the “send” button. Yes, sir? What the actual hell? In her entire life she’d never called a man sir, and MisterHaven was not her dominant. She groaned out loud. What had gotten into her? But to her relief, he rolled with it and didn't comment.
MisterHaven: Lanie, you know I am a dominant. As such, I can't help but look out for your needs. Now, I don't really know you, and you don't really know me. But I see a sweet girl, who was a friend to my wife when my wi
fe really needed a friend. That means something to me, Lanie. It means a real lot to me.
Elena's eyes filled with tears that she didn't bother to swipe away, as he continued. She missed LadyHaven so much it made her cry. How much harder was it for him?
MisterHaven: I like you. You're a good girl. You brighten my day with your humor and honesty. But I see you as a girl with no keeper, and it's against everything in me not to speak up when I see you doing something that might harm you. I can't help but look out for you, because I've been doing this since before you were even born.
She felt the sincerity in his words, the concern and even the sadness, as she quietly cried and read his messages.
MisterHaven: Still there, honey?
LanieLove: Yes, sir.
This time, she did not regret the term of respect. It felt almost natural.
MisterHaven: So I'm not going to apologize for looking out for you. In fact, I fully intend on continuing to do so. Is this something that you are going to be able to handle? Because although I am not your dominant, and I won't require your obedience to me, I also won't tolerate disrespect.
She closed her eyes, a fresh sob escaping. She was so very grateful he was where he couldn't see her, as she'd hate for him to see her losing her shit over something so simple as the fact that he fucking cared about her.
LanieLove: MisterHaven, I understand. And I'm sorry. Please forgive me.
MisterHaven: There's nothing to forgive, honey. We just needed to have this talk. Are you okay?
Elena wiped her eyes again before she responded.
LanieLove: I am. It's just… I'm tired. It's been a really long week and it's going to get even more intense.
MisterHaven: I understand. So tonight, you have to study, and then tomorrow you've got to work?
LanieLove: Yes. I have about three hours of studying to do tonight, after I eat my super healthy dinner.
MisterHaven: lol. Okay. Listen, this is what I want you to do. Pull up your to-do list.
LanieLove: Ummm…
MisterHaven: Start one, kiddo.
She grinned, pulling up the note app on her phone.
LanieLove: Done.
MisterHaven: On your list, write “make a grocery list.” When you wake up tomorrow, I want you writing out your list and stocking up on easy, but healthy snacks to get you through this week. Okay?
LanieLove: Got it. She took a minute and did what he said.
MisterHaven: Now, as much as I'd love to spend the night chatting with you, you have studying to do, and you need to get a good night's sleep. So for now, let's call it a night. Set a timer on your phone and when the timer goes off, you get yourself to bed. No watching TV or cruising Facebook. Get yourself ready for bed, and get the sleep you need. Got it?
She frowned, but saw the wisdom in his instructions. How did he know she spent hours unwinding binge-watching Netflix, then dragging herself through her shift at the hospital fueled by Starbucks and vending machines?
LanieLove: Okay. If you say so.
MisterHaven: I do say so. I'm going to wish you good night, and send you a good night kiss you can put on your cheek for being a good girl. Okay?
God, how sweet was that? She swallowed, and even though she knew it was silly, she didn't even care. She reached out a hand, grabbed a fistful of air, and smacked it on her cheek grinning.
LanieLove: Thank you. Sending you a big ol' hug back around your bossy neck.
MisterHaven: Perfect. You do what I said, and let's check in tomorrow morning. Good night, honey.
LanieLove: Good night, MisterHaven.
She saw the chat screen go dark. She sat staring at the screen in front of her for a moment, before she shut her laptop, and stretched. It was an odd relationship; unlike anything she'd ever experienced. He didn't hit on her, like the guys she'd dated in the past had. Did he even flirt? Even when he called her honey or sweetheart it didn't feel like flirting. It felt… nice. Protective. Caring.
She shook her head. He'd given her instructions, and oddly, she felt invigorated with the knowledge. Someone cared enough about her to give her the direction she needed. She frowned as she pulled open her study books and sat cross-legged on the couch. Why did she need someone to give her direction? Wasn't she capable of handling things on her own? Glancing at the empty foil-wrapper on her desk, she gave a self-deprecating snort. Whatever. She'd been so busy at work, studying, and volunteering that she really hadn't taken care of herself the way she needed to. And wasn't that the beauty of being friends with a dominant? He could give her the little bit of guidance she needed, and maybe, just maybe, having someone to watch over met his own needs.
Yeah. That's all this was. He needed someone to boss around, so she'd humor him for a bit. Couldn't hurt. He was really only looking out for her.
She clicked her pen open, and opened her study book.
Chapter 3
“Hey, boss, can I talk to you?”
“Yep. Hang on.” Blake glanced over the numbers on the screen in front of him once more, verifying their accuracy, then clicked save, before turning his attention to the woman who stood in his doorway.
His secretary, Daphne, had her hand braced on the doorframe, and was holding a sheaf of papers, an uncharacteristic look of annoyance on her pretty face. Daphne had worked at The Club for a few years, handling memberships, room reservations, and all the other public interactions that Blake had neither the time nor the patience to handle. She was one of the few trusted employees he’d leaned on more and more over the past year. Tall and willowy, with her pale skin framed by a waist-length curtain of red-blonde hair, she reminded Blake of an innocent maiden he’d seen in a painting once… at least until she opened her mouth. Daphne cursed like a sailor, handled business negotiations with the ruthlessness of a battle-seasoned general, and was the first person to jump in with an inappropriate comment or dirty joke anytime a situation got too tense, but she did it all while wearing a smile that could light up a room. That smile was missing tonight.
“Problem?” Blake surmised, nodding toward the papers in her hand.
Daphne hesitated, looking at Blake’s face while chewing her lip. “Er… maybe. But you know what? Lemme talk to Matt about this, rather than bother you with it.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”
“Well, I… I know you’re really busy, and you’ve been pretty stressed, and I don’t wanna burden you when I could just bug Matt or Slay.”
“Bug Matt with what?” Matteo asked, popping his head in from the hallway behind her. The former soldier’s broad shoulders seemed to take up the entire doorway, and as always, there was a light of mischief just beneath the surface of his green eyes. He gave Blake a chin lift in greeting and turned his attention to Daphne.
“Oh, good! We can talk at my desk!” Daphne said eagerly, ushering Matt back into the hall with a gentle shove. Over her shoulder, she called out, “Sorry to have bothered you, Blake.”
God, had things gotten that bad? Had he retreated to the point where his people thought he shouldn’t be bothered with the day-to-day running of his own business? Shit.
“Daphne!” Blake barked in a warning tone. When her head reappeared in the doorway, he pointed at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit. And Matteo, I need you to hear this too.”
Without another word, Daphne sat, though she still looked wary. Matteo, his curiosity piqued, came into the office, but chose to lean against the far wall, instead.
“I know I’ve been a bit preoccupied over the past few months,” Blake told them. “I needed to sort my shit. I needed to grieve for my wife. And I am grateful—more than I can express—that all of you, particularly the two of you and Slay, were there to pick up the slack for me. But it’s time I stopped going through the motions and started really living again.” He remembered his conversation with LanieLove and felt his lips twitch into a smile.
“It’s time,” he repeated. “And this is my club. So, when you have a problem, you don’t h
esitate. You come directly to me. Both of you. And make sure that gets circulated to every other member of the team. We’re back to business as usual. Understood?”
Despite his unfiltered words and harsh tone, Daff’s face lit up. “Yeah! I mean, yes, Master Blake. Understood.”
One corner of Matt’s mouth lifted in a smile, and he gave a single nod. “Understood.”
Blake nodded once, closing that conversation hopefully forever, then gestured towards the papers Daphne held. “So?”
“Right! Okay, so…” Daphne’s face grew serious as she laid her stack of papers out on the desk. “We’ve had an influx of crazy emails.”
Blake glanced briefly at the papers, and then back to Daphne. “This is nothing new, Daff. Crackpots have been condemning us to hell since the day we set this place up. If they’re not trying to save my soul, they’re offering me some way to lose weight or enlarge my penis.”
Blake could hear Matteo sucking in a breath, but before he could make the joke that Blake knew had to be hovering on his lips, Blake continued, “I believe you should forward all of those offers to Master Angelico’s inbox.”
Matteo snorted and Blake chuckled silently to himself.
Daphne made a strangled noise that was halfway between a cough and a laugh, then continued, “Right, boss. Will do. No, I know we get those emails on a regular basis. But these are different. For one thing, all of the messages are from the same group.” She leaned forward in her seat and pointed to the paper. “They call themselves The Church of the Highest Prophet.”
Blake and Matteo exchanged a glance. “The Church of the Highest Prophet?” Blake repeated. He felt an inexplicable clench in his gut as he said the words, some sixth sense that told him this wasn’t like the harmless emails he’d gotten in the past. “I’ve never heard of them.”
Daphne nodded. “Neither had I, and that’s because they’re fairly new. Just opened about a year ago, according to their website.”
“They have a website?” Matt asked.
Daff rolled her eyes. “Everyone has a website, Matteo.”
