by Measha Stone
Liberated Heart
Windy City Book Three
Measha Stone
Copyright © 2019 by Measha Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Daddy’s Heart
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Measha Stone
Chapter 1
"I don't understand." Erin Stamper stood in the middle of the master bedroom she shared with her fiancé, unable to comprehend the scene before her. Jonathan sat on their bed, the open suitcase beside him half-full of haphazardly folded clothes.
"Jonathan." Her voice cracked. Her chest tightened. She was losing him. "We can fix this. Whatever the problem is, I can fix it. I can be better. I can—"
"Dammit, Erin. I don't want you to fix this, or me, or you. It's just—" He shoved his hands through his already tousled blond hair. Dark shadows circled his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well.
By the looks of his sunken cheeks, he hadn't been eating well either. How had she missed this? How had she looked at him every day of her life and not seen this happening to him? To her? To them?
"Look, I know we've kind of drifted a little. You're working a lot with your new job, and my work has kept me busy too. We've missed a few nights out with the gang. Maybe we should set some time aside for us. You know, maybe a little vacation." A quick two-day getaway to remind them what made them fall in love in the first place. They needed a little rekindling. Surely that was all it was.
"I'm seeing someone." The words fell between them so softly, so brokenly, she couldn't have heard him right.
"What?" she whispered. The twist in her stomach should have been the acknowledgement she needed. "What did you say?" Her hands dropped to her sides, and she sank down into the chair at her vanity.
He looked up at her, his dark brown eyes withdrawn and full of pity. "Erin, I'm seeing someone."
A cold, clammy sensation ran down her cheeks. Her stomach lurched as her mind worked through his words.
"Erin—"
"Don't." She held up a hand to ward off any further confessions. "Just give me a second." She took deep breaths, feeling his stare on her, knowing he was growing impatient. He didn't like when she took her moments, when she took time to think through what was happening.
"How long?" she finally asked. Tears built, but she did her best to hold them back. Crying wouldn't help now. She needed to know how far away he'd gotten and work out how to get him back.
"Six months," he stated, his voice flat.
"Months?" She clenched her eyes shut. Suddenly, all the late nights at the office made sense. He had an office downstairs. He didn't need to stay downtown to get his work done. "Why? I don't understand. We're getting married."
"Erin—"
"Is that why you wouldn't set a date? Is that why when I went looking at wedding dresses you told me to wait to buy anything until you got your bonus?" She'd been a complete fool.
"It's over, Erin." The statement was given like a gavel being slammed over an anvil. Over? They were over? Their relationship had failed? She had failed?
"Jonathan, whatever isn't working, we can fix it," she tried again. They had been engaged for over a year. They'd bought a house together. She'd moved out of the city to the burbs for him, to start a marriage, to start a family. It couldn't be over.
He let out a ragged breath and shoved himself off the bed. She watched him from what felt like another world as he packed more clothes into the suitcase on the bed—their bed.
"Were you even going to tell me?" Her hands clenched into fists on her knees. "I left work early today, but I hadn't told you I was taking a few hours off this afternoon. You thought I wouldn't be home until six. You were going to just pack your stuff and leave—what, a note?" Her voice steadily rose as the realization of what she would have come home to bloomed in her mind.
Jonathan finished putting his clothes in the suitcase and closed it. The sound of the zipper bounced off the walls. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean for it to end this way. I really didn't. You deserve better than this."
"Then don't leave me." She hated how pathetic she sounded, but the world she knew slowly began to peel away from her grasp. Everything around her filled with haze and confusion.
Another ragged sigh. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he pulled the suitcase from the bed. "I can't stay, Erin. I love her."
Erin had heard people explain what a broken heart felt like. She'd nursed Jessica through a few of her own. But until that moment, that second where she watched the man she thought was the love of her life pick up his bag and say those words, she’d never understood the sharp pain. A butcher knife to the chest would have hurt less. Her breath caught in her throat. Tears burned her eyes. Her chest ached as though it had been cracked open.
"I'm sorry," he said again as he walked to the door. Unable to move, to breathe, to focus, she listened to him open and shut the bedroom door. Footsteps echoed through the house as he ran down the wooden stairs. The front door creaked, and the picture frame that hung from the door rattled as he closed it.
"Don't go," she finally whispered into the empty room. His car roared in the driveway, then slowly faded away as he drove down the street—away from their home—away from her.
Chapter 2
Erin sat on her couch staring at the television. The reflection in the dark screen captured her sad state. It was nearly two in the afternoon. She'd finally showered and put on real clothes, but she didn't feel any better. Two days had dragged on since Jonathan's departure. She'd managed to get to work both days, even got a few things done, but it was Saturday, and she had nowhere to be.
Having to get out of the weekly friend dinner the night before hadn't been too difficult. She shot a text claiming they weren't going to make it. No big deal. Alex was busy with his new girlfriend, so Erin was really ornamental at this point—a piece in the background that filled in a spot at the table. She doubted whatever news she missed would be earth shattering, and if it was, they'd keep it from her anyway.
After bumping into Jessica in several of the same classes at UIC while chasing down her English degree, Erin had finally gotten the courage to introduce herself. Jessica’s friendship had come equipped with Kelly and Alex, which made it all the easier for Erin to find her tribe.
But she’d been the last to join the tight-knit group, leaving Erin also standing with one foot on the outside. Conversations between Jessica and Kelly sometimes sounded more like secret code than a gossip session. When pressed, they waved
it off as nothing and changed the topic.
Her job at Envious, a start-up marketing company, as a graphic designer had kept her working in the city. Jonathan worked in the city too, but it had been his idea to move to Elk Grove. He’d wanted to raise their family in the burbs, and the housing market had made it the perfect time to buy. Even though he wouldn't set the date for the wedding, she’d agreed with him. They had house hunted and bought the two-story ranch within a month. She loved the house. She kept it clean, and always decorated it to his liking. It had been his home as much as hers, and she’d never wanted him to feel like it was a woman's house. She hadn't wanted him to have a need for a man-cave.
She tried to eat a bite of her cereal, but it only made her stomach hurt. Pushing the bowl farther away from her on the coffee table, she stared at her reflection.
"Well, what a fine mess you've found yourself in." She frowned. Her phone beeped Jessica's notification sound. Not ready to indulge in human contact yet, she left it on the table.
She felt numb walking through the house. Touches of their life together were splattered everywhere. Photographs, vacation mementos, his sweat jacket laying on the armchair in the front room. It was a bit serial-killer-esque, but she slipped her arms through the jacket and pulled the hood over her head. The smell of his cologne still lingered.
Wanting to feel his presence, she walked down the hall to his home office. He worked for a large finance company and had done a lot of it at home at night and on the weekends. They had originally shared the office for when she had freelance work, but he had said he needed his own space, so she'd moved her desk into the spare bedroom.
He hadn't taken anything from the office when he left. She sank into the plush leather chair and dropped her head back, breathing in the room, trying to capture him again. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast? There had to have been signals he wasn't happy. Had she been so consumed with her own life she hadn't seen it? She tried to think back, to find the warning signs, but nothing popped up. Small disappearances now made more sense, but the why wouldn't come into focus. They didn't fight, not really. Their sex life hadn't even been off. He’d seemed as active in that department as ever. No changes, and she hadn't asked for more than he’d been willing to give.
She went to turn on his computer, only to find it already on. He had forgotten to log off. She probably shouldn't, but she clicked on his email icon. Still logged in there too.
Ashley Braggon. His new girlfriend. Dozens of emails from her filled the screen. It wasn't the right thing to do, but she clicked on them anyway. The reason Jonathan had left played out in front of her.
The first few emails were overrun with complaints of how gullible Erin was, how June Cleaverish he saw her.
Why would I want to fuck June Cleaver?
He'd whined about how she never wanted to make a decision, that she always deferred to him and never thought for herself.
"That's not true!" she yelled at the computer screen. "I think for myself all the time. I wanted you to have your say. I didn't want to control us!" Tears burned hot down her cheeks.
Her little dirty secret desires she'd wanted to try in the bedroom leaked across the screen. He'd made fun of them, had called her a freak, telling her about how Erin wanted him to slap her face. "That was one time!" she yelled again. When she’d confessed that fantasy to him, he had laughed at her, so she never brought it up again. "Three years ago," she muttered to herself, wiping her nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.
Naive. Sheltered. Silly. The words continued to cut into her.
She finally turned off the monitor. Ashley didn’t say much back outside of sympathizing with him and making plans for their next rendezvous. At least the woman hadn't joined in on the ridicule. But how could she? From what Erin could tell, she was a complete stranger. A woman he'd picked up at the coffee house down the street from his office.
A familiar ringtone played from the living room, and clenched her eyes shut. What would she tell their friends? Had Jonathan already made the announcement? She was the levelheaded one in their group—responsible, respectable, everything everyone expected her to be. How was she going to tell them she lost Jonathan? That she couldn't hold on to her fiancé?
Hadn't she done everything she was supposed to?
College degree—check.
Meet a boy—check.
Get engaged—check.
Buy a house—check.
Get married—fail.
Tears fell again, but no more sobs. Her chest hurt from the crying. Her face was tight and dry from the constant tears. Another beep. She needed more time. She took a few steps to the loveseat Jonathan kept in the office and curled up on it. She needed more sleep.
Several days later, Erin stepped off the Metra platform and headed to her car. Work had been a waste of time. Her mind wouldn't sit still long enough for her to come up with the logo her boss had asked for. She’d decided to call it a day after lunch and head home. Seeing the distraction in her work, Charlie had been all for her getting a fresh start tomorrow.
Although the pain of Jonathan's desertion still lingered, it wasn't the entirety of her distraction. On the train to work that morning, she’d remembered a conversation she'd had with him a few months back. Something about a new business loan for a new club in the city. A sex club, Jonathan had called it, but hadn't given her more detail than that.
Something the burbs had going for them was the ease of traffic compared to the city. She made it home from the train in record time, pulling into the garage before the door was even all the way open. Tossing her purse on the loveseat in the office, she went straight for the filing cabinet. It only took a moment before she plucked the file Jonathan had kept in regard to the club's loan documents.
Top Floor. The permit was for a three-floor night club, each floor holding its own building permits and business plan. Alex's name was on each document, but the only level that had an actual name at the time was Top Floor. The description only stated the club catered to alternative lifestyles.
"That tells me nothing," she mumbled, jamming the file back into the drawer.
But it had given her a name. A few seconds later, with the help of Google, she was staring at the club's website. It had opened several months ago. Alex owned the club. She wiped her eyes and read the screen again. Alex owned a sex club. A BDSM dungeon and nightclub. She sat back in the chair, taking slow breaths.
Alyssa worked at the club with Alex. Kendrick had been listed on the business application as the security contact. Which meant Kendrick knew about the club. Did Kelly and Jessica know? Was she the only one in the dark about this? She'd heard the term BDSM before—hell, who hadn't?—but she never really knew what it meant.
Another Google search had her wide-eyed, scrolling through websites, videos, and blogs. She kept waiting to find the thing that repulsed her, the one thing that would turn her off instead of on. Her panties dampened as she continued to scroll through photographs of women tied and gagged with red stripes across their otherwise white flesh. She paused at a photo of a woman wearing an apron tied down to the dining room table. A wonderfully dressed man stood in front of her with his cock out, stroking it over her open mouth. Streams of white cum painted over her open, smiling lips.
Her hand slid easily down her pants, finding her wet, swollen clit. She continued to stare at the picture as she moved her fingers over her aroused body. So many times, she'd imagined being fucked like that, and had always thought she was crazy, weird. After the face slapping incident, she never spoke of such things to Jonathan. Now, seeing the cum dripping down the woman's cheek, she pressed harder, rubbed faster, and let out a satisfying scream as her orgasm shot through her body, leaving her with a racing heartbeat and shaky breath.
As a distraction, it would do.
Chapter 3
Bradley stared at an accounting ledger that, for all intents and purposes, could have been written in Arabic. Numbers flew all over the page, some in brackets, others i
n bold. The headers listing the four owners, including himself, of Bar Corp he understood—that was it.
Buying into Bar Corp hadn't been a frivolous purchase. Alex Tribelli, a personal friend of his, had come to him during a party hosted at a mutual acquaintance's home with the suggestion. He'd already had the real estate picked out and a business plan drawn up, the only thing he’d needed was investors. Bradley could have handed over two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand and left it at that, but the idea of owning a piece of something like the club gave him purpose.
His parents had left him enough money to ride out the rest of his life if he wanted, but he didn't watch his father make his money without learning a thing or two. Hard work moved you forward. Standing still got you nowhere. He wanted his own money- earned not inherited, his own legacy, and pride. He had no claim to the riches his parents left him after the horrible car accident took them far too soon.
It hadn't taken him long to see the worth of Alex's venture. Having a club with three levels, each catering to a different sort of clientele, wasn't unheard of, but there was nothing like it in the proximity of the location Alex picked. Top Floor held the most security and secrecy. It wasn't opened to the general public. At first, membership was by invitation only. Recently, they had started taking applications, screening each person seeking entry thoroughly. Anyone with a violent crime conviction was denied. Anyone caught using drugs while in the club was booted out and their membership was suspended. Anyone putting another member in danger by not following the safety rules was banned. They weren't fucking around.
