Strictly Pleasure: Hooded Pleasures, Book 2

by Sheryl Nantus

I’ll kill whoever caused this.

  Her lower lip quivered, and he pushed the anger aside for another time.

  She doesn’t need your fury.

  She needs a soft place to fall.

  Oliver opened his arms. “Come here.”

  She fell into his embrace, sobbing uncontrollably.

  It was five minutes before he could convince her to come back to his store and ten before she’d enter his office, insisting she was fine and didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his staff.

  He bit the inside of his cheek before answering in a soft but firm tone he’d fire the first person who looked at her sideways. And if he or she didn’t work for him, Oliver would buy the company he or she did work for and then fire them.

  That bought him a teary giggle and allowed him to take her inside.

  One questioning look from the store manager had Oliver baring his teeth in a snarl.

  The manager scurried out of the way.

  He walked Veronica into his office and led her to a chair.

  “Sit.”

  She sniffled and nodded as she settled on the plush leather cushion.

  Oliver went to his mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He snapped the lid off and offered it to her.

  She waved him away, her hand flapping in the air like a wounded bird’s wing.

  “Drink.” He put as much Dom into the voice as he dared, given the situation. “You need it.”

  Veronica looked up at him and sniffled before she took the drink. She tipped the bottle to her mouth and took a gulp.

  Her strangled sigh ripped at his heart.

  Oliver picked up his phone and rang for his driver. “We can’t stay here.”

  She coughed on a mouthful of water. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going to my place.” He fixed her with a steely glare. “It’s a safe place where we can both relax. No arguments.”

  The annoyance in her look burned down to resignation.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “I have to step out and find the manager.” He locked eyes with her. “If I come back and you’re not here, I’ll be very upset. Very. Upset.” His tone left no room for discussion or argument.

  Veronica nodded and slumped into the chair.

  Oliver moved out of the office and onto the main floor. It took a few minutes to find Derek, the day manager, where he was hiding in the nonfiction section.

  “I’m leaving.” He ignored the look of relief. “Unless it’s an emergency, don’t call me.”

  He saw the car pull up outside the double doors and returned to the office to get Veronica.

  “Car’s here. Let’s go.”

  She sniffled, fresh tears breaking free.

  Oliver took hold of her arm and helped her stand. “We can’t stay here,” he said softly. “It’s not good.”

  “I have to—” She choked on the words. “I need my purse. My café—”

  “We’ll stop on the way out.” He rubbed her back as he led her to the door and out onto the store floor. “I’ll have the driver circle around to the coffee shop.”

  When they exited the store, it took Oliver a minute to spot the black sedan sitting a few spaces away. He lifted his arm and waved the driver over to the front of the store.

  Veronica leaned against him, sniffling.

  The car moved up in front of them, and he opened the back door.

  “Get in.”

  She did so, sliding over to let him sit beside her.

  Veronica wiped her face with her sleeves and took another sip of water.

  “Around the corner to Java Jive,” he ordered the driver.

  The man nodded, and the car began to move.

  Oliver put his arm around Veronica and rubbed her arm as they maneuvered through traffic.

  There was no use asking any questions right now.

  He let out a whistle at the sight of the line of customers waiting to get into the coffee shop.

  “Whoa.” He looked at Veronica. “That’s impressive.”

  His comment was welcomed by a new burst of tears.

  “Here.” He pulled out a handkerchief. “I’ll go get your purse.”

  Before she could argue, he was up and out of the car.

  The crowd parted in front of him with only a few angry looks, quieted when he turned his gaze on them.

  It took him a few minutes to focus in on the barista as the woman he’d seen before. She was busy working what appeared to be three machines at the same time, sweat beading on her forehead as she hustled the specialty coffees to the top counter.

  “Excuse me.” He rapped his knuckles on the countertop to get her attention. “I need Veronica’s purse. She’s not feeling well, and I’m taking her home.”

  The blonde frowned before lifting her hand in the air. “Dan.”

  A tall thin man came out of the back, holding a wrench in one hand.

  “He says Veronica’s sick and wants her purse.” She eyed Oliver carefully. “He’s been here before and visited her. I recognize him.”

  “Okay. I’ll take care of this.” Dan moved around the counter to stand next to Oliver. “Stay here. I’ll get her purse, and then I’m going to see her for myself.” He hefted the wrench. “I assume we understand each other.”

  Oliver allowed himself a smile as the man walked down the hall.

  You picked good people, Veronica.

  I’d poach them myself, given a chance.

  Dan returned a minute later, purse in hand. He had a tight grip on the slender black strap. “I see anything wrong, I’m calling the cops.”

  “As you should.” Oliver motioned him toward the door. “She’s out in the car.”

  He let Dan move ahead through the crowd.

  I don’t want to embarrass you, Roni.

  But your staff wants to protect you.

  As do I.

  The car window rolled down as Dan approached, holding out the black purse.

  Veronica leaned out, wearing a forced smile. “Thanks.”

  “Are you okay?” Dan glanced back at Oliver. “Are you in any trouble?”

  “No. No,” she repeated. “A little upset tummy. Nothing to worry about. I’ll call you later. If I don’t return, lock everything up as usual and drop me an email. The usual routine.” The smile was forced. “You know how this game works. You don’t need me hovering over your shoulder.”

  The confident reply convinced her manager. He handed over her purse. “If there’s any problems—”

  “Call me or the cops, depending on the situation.” She grinned. “I’m okay, Dan. Now go back to work.”

  Dan turned and nodded to Oliver.

  Oliver got back in the car.

  “You’ve got good people working for you.”

  The simple statement sent Veronica off on a new stream of tears as the car moved from the curb.

  Oliver pulled her close, confused, curious and more than a little angry.

  The weeping woman in his arms bore little resemblance to the strong, independent business owner he’d been dealing with for the past three weeks.

  What happened to you?

  He bit back the question.

  There’d be time enough for answers.

  * * * * *

  Veronica’s world was collapsing around her. All the work she’d put into Java Jive over the past two years was for nothing, the people she’d surrounded herself with about to suffer for her sin of having a monster for a father.

  She wasn’t sure where she had been running to, only that it’d ended in an alley when she couldn’t breathe and her chest ached with the realization she’d failed.

  Then Oliver appeared.

  Now she was in his car on the way back to his house, gripping a half-empty water bottle so ti
ght she was amazed it hadn’t exploded in her hand and wondering what to do.

  Back to his house.

  The reality of the sentence slapped her upside the head. “No.” She cleared her throat. “No, thank you. I have to go to my apartment.”

  Oliver looked at her, frowning.

  “I can’t go home with you. It’s—” She fumbled for some reason, any reason to change their destination.

  Because if I do, I’ll be lost.

  I can’t enter that world right now.

  I can’t.

  “It’s against the rules,” Veronica sputtered, searching for a way to explain her confusing emotions.

  He stared at her, forehead furrowed with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “My house, my rules. I won’t tell if you won’t.” His tone softened. “But I don’t want to push you any more than you’ve been today.” He reached out and took her hands in his. “Be honest. What do you want to do? Go to my place or go home?”

  “I wish—” She couldn’t hold back a sob. “No matter how much I wish to be with you. I want to go home and eat a gallon of ice cream and chocolate and—” She hiccupped. “I have to be in control of something, anything right now. I need—” Veronica stopped.

  Shut up before you make more of a fool of yourself.

  He smiled in agreement. “Okay.” Oliver leaned forward and dictated her address to the driver. “Give him a few minutes to turn around.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t—”

  “I get it. I don’t have to like it. but I get it,” Oliver said. “We’ll be at your place soon enough and get you settled.”

  “We?”

  “I’m not going to drive you home and dump you on the sidewalk like a bad blind date.” He rubbed the back of her neck. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

  She fell silent as the car turned onto a side street and merged back into traffic.

  I don’t know.

  But I’m glad you’re here.

  She couldn’t stop shaking, her inner rage threatening to tear her apart. It was an emotional spinning wheel with the highs of rage and the lows of a kick in the gut shredding her insides.

  Oliver kept his arm around her for the entire trip to her place, his body heat burning her leather jacket and warming her chilled skin. He stayed silent but kept her close as if to shield her.

  The black sedan slid up to the sidewalk.

  “I’ll call you when I need you,” Oliver said to the driver.

  Veronica stayed silent as Oliver got out. He looked around before turning and offering his hand to her.

  She took it and stepped out.

  It wasn’t even noon, and she was emotionally and physically done for the day.

  Mr. Anderson wasn’t at his usual post, which made it easier to go upstairs with Oliver, her head now throbbing and about to explode.

  “Your keys,” he said. “I’ll get the door.”

  She dug in her pocket and came up with the keys, which she handed over.

  It only took a few seconds for him to unlock the door and usher her in. He locked the door and placed the keys on the table before starting down the hallway with her in tow.

  “Sit.” Oliver led her to the couch and urged her down on the cushions. “You look like crap. I assume you have some headache pills in the bathroom.” He plucked the now-empty water bottle from her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  Veronica rubbed her temples in a futile effort to hold back the migraine she felt building.

  This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

  She winced, her mind already drawing up possible scenarios to make it so.

  I have to fire all those people.

  Dan. Jane. The staff.

  I have to fire them all.

  After all the hard work they’ve put in over the past few weeks.

  All gone.

  “Oh God,” Veronica said. “All gone.”

  “What’s all gone? No, wait. Here.” Oliver sat beside her with a glass of water and two pills. “Don’t pass out on me. Take this.” He held out his palm. “Take a deep breath. Don’t choke.”

  She swallowed the pills and finished off the water with a noisy gulp and resounding burp.

  Wonderful. Now I sound like a drunk bum.

  Oliver laughed. “There’s my girl.” He patted her back. “You’ll feel better soon enough.” He hesitated before continuing. “I thought the reopening was going well—when I drove by a few hours ago, there was a great line-up. When I went in to get your purse, it was like an organized flash mob, and your staff looked darned happy, if not harried. Did something happen?”

  She sighed. “It’s complicated.” She swiped at her eyes with her jacket sleeve.

  “Let me hang that up.” He tugged off the leather jacket, and she was instantly drawn back to their first session, that first inkling of her inner nature.

  I can’t think about that.

  Not now.

  She shivered as he pulled the jacket free. “I’ll be right back.” He walked into the hallway, returning a few seconds later to sit beside her, minus his own leather trench coat.

  Veronica sniffled and reached for the nearby tissue box.

  Oliver snagged it ahead of her and held it as she yanked out a handful.

  Veronica sighed. She’d gone past crying and now was exhausted, angry and mad.

  And, strangely enough, hungry.

  She dabbed at her cheeks, taking off the last of the makeup so carefully applied only a few hours earlier.

  “I don’t mean to pry.” Oliver gave her a sheepish grin. “Okay. I’m lying. I want to pry. I want to know what’s going on, what’s hit you like this. Tell me. Please.” He nudged her and gave a playful wink. “I’ll even pay for the pizza.”

  She made a face, mimicking her internal flip-flopping. “It’s not even noon yet.” She could taste the sourness in her mouth from the earlier nausea.

  “There’s never a bad time for pizza.” He smiled, and she felt the tension in her shoulders lessen a fraction.

  “It’s a long story.” She looked at the empty water glass sitting atop the television guide.

  “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at listening. I’ll make some coffee if you want,” Oliver offered.

  “No. Not yet.” Veronica placed her hands on her knees and forced herself to sit straight. “Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “How much do you know about me?”

  “A bit. Okay, a lot.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I researched you. Above and beyond what you’d given to Boots ’n’ Chains for your membership there.”

  She smiled. “Make sure you’re not bringing a lunatic into your home?”

  “That much I knew.” He looked at her, an intense stare that startled her. “I wanted to be certain I wasn’t going to hit any of your emotional triggers accidentally. It’s good business sense.”

  Veronica licked her lips. “Yeah. Good business sense. Not a lot of that going round right now.” She picked up the empty glass and rolled it between her palms. “My father is on the board of directors of SuperSmartMart. I assume you’ve heard of them.”

  He chuckled. “I think so.”

  “My father—” She paused, sorting her thoughts. “When I graduated from university, he wanted me to come into the fold, manage one of their regional stores. Carry on the family name in a company that was safe, secure. Profitable.”

  “But you disagreed,” he offered.

  She nodded. “I wanted to build my own career, be my own boss.” She folded the used tissue into a tight square. “I didn’t want to be just another cog in a big machine. I wanted to make something, create something.”

  “I can understand that,” Oliver said. “Young, eager. Want to change the world.”

  “Exactly.” Veronica tossed the tissue on the table. “I knew I
might have the book learning but not the real-world experience. So I went out and got a job—right at the bottom, as low as I could get without starving to death.”

  He gave an approving grunt.

  “I worked in a few coffee shops, learning the trade. Made my way up to managing one of those shops.” She eyed him. “Working for what I now consider to be the competition.”

  He grinned. “Best way to figure out what they’re doing wrong and how to do it right.”

  “Exactly. When I figured I’d learned enough, I took my savings and opened up Java Jive after that.” Her stomach growled, and she clasped her hand to it, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  Oliver looked over at the small kitchen behind them. “Let me make you something simple. Toast okay? We can get the pizza later.”

  Veronica nodded, grateful for the compromise. “Please.”

  “Keep talking.” He moved behind her. “I’ll make some weak tea as well. That and the toast should calm your stomach. I know these types of headaches—you get hungry, then nauseous, then hungry again.”

  “Okay.” Veronica didn’t want to confess she’d already thrown up once today.

  She rubbed her head, wondering how she’d gotten to this place, this point in her life where a rich Dominant was making her tea and toast.

  A few more deep breaths had her centered enough so she could tell the story without either smashing her fists into the wall or dissolving into a puddle.

  “My father came to visit me today.”

  “I assume he’s not your biggest fan,” Oliver said from the kitchen. “Considering you turned down his offer to work alongside him.”

  “He’s not. He called last night and said we needed to talk. I told him to meet me at the café.” A wry smile pulled at her lips. “I thought I’d rub our success in his face. Show him I was going to make this work, that Java Jive had a future.”

  “Which you do.”

  “Which I had until this morning.” She grabbed her knees and dug in her nails. “My father informed me SuperSmartMart plans to buy up the entire city block and put in one of their megastores. It’s part of their big plan and all that.”

  “But there are other stores nearby. You have a lease—”

  “They’re buying them out—me out. All of us out. Break the leases, toss money at us and knock it all down.” She caught herself, realizing she was shouting.