His Forbidden Submissive (7 page)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He couldn’t lie to her. Whether he’d meant to or not, he’d crossed the line. Going back now only to go forward later would be far worse than simply telling her the truth.

Wouldn’t it?

As he joined her on the platform, he carefully prepared his next sentence. “Yes. I designed Ravenous. I’m also a co-owner.”

“Co-own?” She seemed to be speaking as if she were in shock. Her words had no inflection, her facial muscles paralyzed. “How long have you owned this place? Were you thinking about opening it while I was sick? You never mentioned anything to me.”

“Yes and no. The restaurant’s been in the making for years now but we’ve only been open about a month. I actually met my business partner while you were going through chemo. He’d been planning to open a place like this for years and had most everything lined up when we met but finding an architect and designer familiar with the BDSM lifestyle was hanging him up. So when he approached me, I jumped at the chance to design the place.”

“The BDSM lifestyle? Oh god.” Her pupils turned to big, black saucers. In the span of two seconds, she went from shock to something closely resembling panic. “Oh my god. You mean…you’re actually into
that
? The place isn’t just for show?”

Christ.
He was losing her. And fast. “I’m an active participant in the lifestyle, yes. I have been since my early twenties. Does that bother you?”

He examined her expression for any sign of rejection or worse—fear. But before she answered, their server arrived.

“Good evening, Master Brock,” the blond in a black leather vest and matching pants said as he placed their drinks between them. “Do you know what you’d like to order or do you need more—”

“More time,” Brock said quickly. Much, much more time.

The young man seemed to know where he was and wasn’t wanted and departed post haste.

Viv took her coffee between two suddenly shaky hands, brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. Then a larger one, then a larger.

“Damn, love.” He intercepted the cup before she could take a fourth scalding sip. “You’re gonna burn your mouth, if you haven’t already.”

She didn’t respond when he took the drink from her, didn’t protest when he scooted closer. She simply sat there, looking as if he’d taken a wrecking ball and destroyed the foundation of her life. He recognized the turmoil roiling in her eyes. He’d experienced something life demolishing before too.

The day his brother told him Viv had what was probably terminal cancer.

He placed his hand on hers and took the opportunity to explain as much as he could. “I’m what we call a Dom, which is short for a Dominant. I—”

“Stop. Stop. I can’t.” She shook her head, her voice as feeble and fragile as an autumn leaf. “Oh my god, Brock, I can’t believe this. There’s this whole other side to you you’ve kept hidden. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t actively trying to be dishonest with you, but unfortunately, secrecy and the lifestyle go hand in hand.”

“But you lied to me, Brock.” She brought her torrential gaze to meet his. “To
me
.”

Her words were a branding iron to the heart. He’d kept his secret out of fear of rejection, never thinking that keeping it could have the same effect.

She pushed on. “How could you fucking lie to me about something like this? I didn’t think we had any major secrets left between us.”

Despite the harshness of her words, they resounded as little more than hoarse whispers. Guilt stabbed him in the center of his chest. He hadn’t thought of hiding his lifestyle from her as lying. He’d looked at it more as protection. She’d been in such a sickly state back then, and him…well, his heart had never been more raw or exposed.

“I swear, Viv, I wasn’t purposely trying to hide that part of myself from you or to be dishonest. I’m not ashamed of the way I like to have sex.” He took a chance and pressed his palm against her cheek.

She immediately pulled back. “Was this why you tried to push me away?”

He nodded. “I panicked. I was terrified of how you’d react. I didn’t want you to run when you found out.” That was mostly the truth. “It was a stupid reaction. I know that. It’s just—”

“You lied to me, Brock. Plain and simple. Just like your fucking brother.”

Her words lashed deep through his chest. “I’m
nothing
like that prick.”

But she wasn’t listening. She rocketed from her seat and ran.

She didn’t look back.

Chapter Six

Viv woke to an insistent pounding, a relentless, painful banging on her hotel room door.
Wham, wham, wham.
Obviously the “do not disturb” sign she’d hung on the knob last night meant nothing to the asshole in the hallway.

“Go a
way
!” she yelled but immediately regretted her outburst. Pain reverberated in her head, as loud and palpable as the knocking at the door. Why the hell had she let herself drink so much last night?

Try the last couple of days.

She pulled the covers over her head, shielding her poor eyes from the annoyingly cheerful morning sun. Nearly two days had passed since she’d walked away from Brock at his restaurant, and even though she’d nearly gone through the alcoholic content of the hotel’s mini-fridge, she still felt as unhinged and unbalanced as she had the moment Brock had made his little confession.

Little?

Hmph.

She still couldn’t get her mind around the fact Brock was into BDSM. She thought she’d known him better than she’d ever known anyone else, but he’d been harboring this huge secret. From
her
. What else was he hiding? Was he secretly married with a boatload of kids?

Wham, wham, wham
.

She ignored the pounding.

By not telling her earlier about his seedier side, Brock had essentially been lying to her, just like his brother had made a habit of doing.

Wham, wham, wham.

“Christ.” Giving up hope of being left alone in her hungover misery, she kicked off the covers and jumped from the bed. More like fell from it. She tripped and stumbled her way across the room. Hangovers plus anger plus early-morning interruptions didn’t a good mood equal.

She yanked open the door. “What!” she screamed—but then immediately smiled when she saw Anne’s friendly face.

Ouch.
Bad move. Smiling hurt.

In typical Anne fashion, she barged in without preamble. In one hand, she juggled a drink carrier with two steaming, venti-sized Starbucks cups. In the other, she grasped a brown bag Viv prayed might have some oatmeal—or better yet, a slice of lemon pound cake. She was hung over and upset. Who wanted healthy?

Viv shut the door behind her new friend. “Not that I’m not happy to see you but what are you doing here?”

“I figured you might need a friendly ear. I would have been here sooner, but my idiot brother forgot to call me and let me know you were here.” Anne set the goodies on the nearby breakfast table. “Our deal is simple. I send clients to his hotel. I pay the bills, with an added stipend to ensure privacy I might add. All he has to do in return for all the business I send his way is to call me when one of my clients checks in. It’s not really that difficult. But anyway…” She fisted her hands on her hips. “After severely berating him for not telling me after your
first
night, I hopped in my car and headed over.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I could use a friendly ear right about now.” Viv fought back a smile. It was odd, having someone to talk to. Being married to Eugene had made it hard to make friends, let alone keep them.

Anne pointed to the breakfast table. “Sit, sweetie. I have the not-so-sneaky suspicion you and I have a lot to talk about.”

Wasn’t that an understatement?

The women settled around the small table and Anne began dishing out the goodies she’d brought. Viv couldn’t help but watch her friend as she worked. Anne looked quite different here. Gone was the corporate lawyer in a pantsuit, wedge heels and her hair in a bun. Anne the Attorney had been replaced by a carefree woman in a wraparound sundress, strapped sandals and dirty-blonde curls that fell freely about her round face and shoulders.

Anne placed a cup in front of Viv. “Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte with soy. That’s what you usually get, right?”

Viv nodded. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Thank god. I know how particular you are about your coffee.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Viv’s lips. Particular? That was being kind. She was a self-professed coffee snob. Not just any java would do. She took a sip of her latte. The cinnamon gave her taste buds an instant boost—hopefully the caffeine would give the rest of her a boost soon.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the hell out of this, Anne, but you know you didn’t have to do this. It’s way above and beyond.”

Anne waved off the comment. “I wanted to, sweetie. Besides, I’m that ruthless bitch who had your dear hubby served with divorce papers, remember? And as much as I like to tote myself as an all-around attorney, you know I deal primarily in business. Divorce law isn’t exactly in my scope of expertise, but I did this for you because I’d like to think we’ve become friends over the years.”

Tears pressed against the back of Viv’s eyes. She’d always considered Anne more than a business associate but it was nice to know the other woman felt the same way.

“Have you had any contact with Eugene since he was served?” Anne asked, her expression turning serious.

Viv shook her head. Eugene might not be physically violent, but the last thing she needed to deal with was a barrage of passive-aggressive assaults. “And I don’t plan to either.” She winked. “Not without my kickass lawyer present anyway.”

“That’s smart, sweetie.”

“The fifteen million unheard voicemails cluttering up my inbox sort of alluded to the fact he’s incapable of sitting down for a rational conversation.”

“Amen to that.” Anne held her hands up, palms out, as if really trying to emphasize her next words. “Because at the moment, that man is
pissed
. More so than I’ve ever known him to be. He’s burning up voicemail space on my end too, but after the first half-dozen or so, I unceremoniously told him to fuck off and that I’d only deal with his attorney.”

“Did it work?”

“Not so far, no.” Anne laughed.

So did Viv.

“But enough about that bastard,” Anne said, “tell me what happened with Brock. Why are you here when you could be in his arms?”

Without warning, every moment she’d spent with Brock flashed behind her eyes. Every searing touch, every soul-shattering orgasm. Every blissful second right up until he pulled the proverbial rug out from under her feet.

“You want every gory, erotic detail?” Viv asked.

“Yes, please.” Anne tugged her legs up in her chair like a teenager about to binge on the newest schoolroom gossip.

“Okay. But just remember, you asked for it.”

Not leaving anything out, Viv chronicled the time she’d spent with Brock. Anne listened with the intensity of a lioness on the prowl. Occasionally, she’d nod, but for the most part, she let Viv tell her story uninterrupted. To her credit, she didn’t even balk at the mention of BDSM, but when she finally did speak, she didn’t pull her words.

“Damn, sweetie! Now
that’s
a weekend.” She laughed, a full-bellied sound that might have been infectious on another occasion.

“Stop it, Anne. I’m really freaking out here. I don’t know what to do about this.”

“Sorry.” Anne scooted her chair closer and put on her lawyer face. “Continue.”

“I knew Brock was hiding something from me. I’m not totally dense. But I never expected his secret to be so—”

“Kinky?”

“So much of a betrayal.”

“So you’re saying the kinky stuff doesn’t really bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me.” Viv shot to her feet and started pacing the small area. “I mean who wouldn’t be bothered by the fact their lover wants to tie them up and whip them?”

“I wouldn’t.”

Viv stared daggers at her friend, pushing quickly past the sarcastic comment. “By not telling me about that side of himself, Brock perpetuated a lie that—”

“Stop right there!
Right
there. That’s what is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Anne pushed onto her feet, squared her shoulders in that lawyerly way she did. “Brock
lied
to you. And for the first time, the man you adored and worshiped and the flesh-and-blood man you made love to didn’t mesh. And for a split second, you saw a little of Eugene in Brock.”

Viv shook her head frantically. “No. Absolutely not. Brock’s not…I mean…that’s not…that’s…”

“That’s spot on, sweetie, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not.”

Yes, it is.

“You put your memories of Brock up on a pedestal and then wrapped it up in plastic wrap to keep it clean and pure. You loved an idea and when the real man didn’t measure up to the pristine idea you’d kept tucked away in your head, you freaked out.”

The truth of Anne’s words tumbled through her. During her treatments, Brock had always seemed like this mythical figure. Honorable. Strong. Above reproach, even despite the fact he was a bad-boy biker. He’d been larger than life, her tether in the storm, keeping her grounded to life when she’d just wanted to give up. But her savior hadn’t been perfect. He wasn’t the godlike creature he portrayed.

He was simply a man, and that man had lied to her.

Viv closed her eyes. “I thought I knew him better than I knew myself, but he was keeping this huge side of himself hidden from me. How am I supposed to just accept that?”

“Not
accept
it, sweetie, embrace it. Run with it. Revel in it. His revelation might not mesh with the Brock in your head, but does that really change the way you feel about him? Honestly…”

“Maybe.” Viv closed her eyes. “Not really.”

“Then go to him. Get to know the flesh-and-blood Brock. If you can’t do that…make a clean break now. Save your sanity.”

Viv shook her head. She couldn’t think of a future where Brock wasn’t there. So where the hell did that leave her exactly?

“I still love him. But how am I supposed to move forward now? The things he’s into are, are…insane.” And that was putting it mildly. “I hardly know anything about his lifestyle. What little I do know I’ve learned via Google, and let me tell you I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to accept—”

“Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. First off, take a breath. You can’t
learn
about BDSM online, only research aspects of it. You’ll never get to know the wonders or the freedom of the lifestyle until you, ya know, experience it.”

“You say that like you have personal experiences in the matter.”

“That’s because I do.”

“You—what?” Holy crap. Viv dropped onto the bed. “Is anyone in my life actually being completely honest with me?”

“Brock is now. And so am I.”

Anne spoke so matter-of-factly Viv almost laughed.

“That’s a lie too.” Anne sat beside her on the bed. “Actually, I’m not being
completely
honest with you. Did you know I stole a car on a dare when I was fourteen? I was arrested for the theft but because my father was friends with the local police chief and the vehicle was returned in perfect condition, no charges were ever pressed. Or that, when I was a freshman in college, my best friend and I snuck into a local BDSM club to get dirt on a professor we both hated, and that was where my fascination with the lifestyle began. Or that I later married that professor, even though he was way too old for me.” She smiled. “Would you like me to continue?”

Viv shook her head. “Okay, I get it. Honesty is complicated. People don’t tell each other everything that’s ever happened to them.”

“And the closer you get to people, the more complicated honesty becomes, and the more complicated it becomes, the bigger chance the secrets you’ve entrusted to someone can be turned back on you and hurt you in ways you could never fathom…”

Her voice tapered off, and for the first time since she’d known Anne, the vigor and insanity that always injected her presence disappeared, leaving behind a woman who looked so broken a gentle breeze might topple her. Her gaze drifted to some elusive spot on the floor.

A nagging realization chewed at Viv. Anne’s words, her pain, weren’t theoretical. Not even close. They were based in real-life trauma. Massive trauma judging by the vacant expression kidnapping her friend’s usual jolly.

She placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Anne? You okay?”

And just like that, Anne was back, smiling and chipper, and she dove right back into the conversation as if nothing had happened. “Bottom line here, sweetie, is that Brock and I have both trusted you with something deeply,
deeply
personal. Now I can’t speak for Brock, but I wouldn’t have told you about my secret unless I trusted you completely. Admitting bizarre sexual preferences in the Bible Belt isn’t something that’s just thrown out there on a whim, ya know?”

Anne’s words usurped Viv’s complete attention, and regret saturated her veins. Brock had trusted her with a guarded secret, and what had she done? She’d walked out on him without even giving him the benefit of the doubt, without letting him explain himself or anything.

She was the biggest bitch ever.

“Now I feel awful for walking out without giving him a chance.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, sweetie.” Anne draped an arm around Viv and hugged her close. “Your reaction isn’t exactly uncommon. I’m sure Brock will understand.”