15. Cautious Freedom #2
I smooth the soft cashmere self-consciously. It’s one of the pieces Micah brought from my closet at his apartment, chosen with surprising thoughtfulness. “No, I just haven’t worn it in a while.”
She loops her arm through mine and steers me toward her table where two cappuccinos await. “I ordered for us both. And these incredible almond croissants you have to try.”
The pastries look professional—laminated dough folded precisely, almonds arranged with artistic care. My fingers itch to recreate them, to experiment with the ratios of butter to flour, to perfect the process.
“So tell me everything,” Olivia demands once we’re settled. “How are you holding up?”
I take a careful sip of cappuccino, buying time to formulate an answer that won’t reveal too much. The foam is silky, the espresso perfectly extracted. “I’m okay. Better than expected, actually.”
“Mmm.” She studies me over the rim of her cup. “You do seem different. More centered somehow.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember exactly why I feel so centered—Micah’s strong hands on my body, his praise washing over me like honey, the way he makes me feel safe and cherished and desired . “It’s just nice to have space to breathe.”
“Space. Right.” Her knowing smile suggests she’s intuited more than I’ve revealed. “And how’s Micah?”
The question catches me off guard, though it shouldn’t. She knows Micah has given me a safe place to stay until the dust settles from Lucas’s death. But Olivia has always been perceptive, especially regarding matters of the heart. Still, I attempt deflection. “He’s been very protective.”
“I bet he has.” She leans forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Honey, I’ve seen how that man looks at you. ‘Protective’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”
My heart stutters. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I grew up around powerful men. I know that look—like he’d burn the world down to keep you safe. The question is, how do you feel about him?”
The directness of her question startles a laugh from me. “It’s complicated.”
“Because he’s Lucas’s father?” Her expression holds no judgment, only understanding. “Sweetie, after what that bastard put you through, you deserve happiness wherever you find it. And Micah … well, let’s just say I’ve heard things about him that suggest he’s exactly what you need.”
Curiosity pricks at me. “What kinds of things?”
“Just that he’s old-school. Honorable, despite his profession. The kind of man who takes care of what’s his.” Her smile turns wicked. “And incredibly dominant in the bedroom, if rumors are true.”
“Olivia.” I glance around, but no one’s paying attention to our conversation. Still, my cheeks flame at how accurate her assessment is.
She laughs at my embarrassment. “Oh honey, your face says everything. Good for you. You deserve someone who knows how to treat you right.”
Her easy acceptance of my unconventional relationship with Micah lifts the weight of worry I’ve been carrying. “It should feel wrong, shouldn’t it? Being with Lucas’s father?”
“Why? Because society says so?” She waves this away with perfectly manicured fingers. “Society also said I should stay with Vinny despite the bruises. Sometimes the heart knows better than arbitrary rules.”
Her words strike deep, articulating something I’ve struggled to express.
My connection with Micah defies conventional morality yet feels more right than my marriage ever did.
He dominates with careful consideration, always attentive to my needs and boundaries.
His strength makes me feel safe rather than afraid.
“Now,” Olivia declares, clearly done with serious conversation, “we’re going shopping. You need new clothes. Some things that will drive that man of yours crazy. And I happen to know Lydia’s working at Violet Confidence today.”
The prospect of seeing another friend, of extending this brief taste of normalcy, proves too tempting to resist. “I should probably check with Micah first.”
“Text him then. But quickly, because there’s this gorgeous emerald dress that would look amazing on you.”
I pull out my burner phone from Micah.
Naomi
Heading to Violet Confidence now.
Micah
Be careful. Stay alert. Text when you move locations.
The lack of explicit prohibition makes me smile. He’s trying so hard to give me freedom while ensuring my safety.
“All clear,” I tell Olivia, tucking the phone away. “Lead on.”
Outside, the cold pushes past my coat and permeates my skin.
Snow threatens in the heavy clouds above, but for now the sky broods with unfulfilled promise.
Olivia links her arm through mine as we navigate the short distance to Violet Confidence, her designer boots clicking purposefully on the sidewalk.
The boutique embodies luxury—soft lighting, plush carpeting, attentive staff offering champagne to browsers.
Lydia spots us immediately, her face lighting with genuine pleasure as she abandons her position at the register.
Her petite frame practically disappears in our three-way hug, enthusiasm evident in rapid-fire questions and observations.
“Oh my God, I’ve missed you.” She squeezes me tight. “You need to come out more. You look amazing.”
Unlike Olivia’s carefully curated sophistication, Lydia radiates authentic warmth. Her hazel eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and her hug feels like coming home.
I chuckle. “You saw me at the last support group meeting.”
“Not enough.” She shakes her head. “You need to join us more often. We worry.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Really. Just laying low for a while.”
Understanding flashes across her features. As another survivor of domestic violence, she gets it. “Well, you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
“And she needs new clothes,” Olivia interjects. “Something that makes her feel as beautiful as she is.”
What begins as casual browsing transforms into an impromptu fashion show.
In the private dressing room, surrounded by silks and cashmeres in jewel tones, I find myself relaxing for the first time since leaving the cabin.
The simple pleasure of beautiful clothes, female companionship, and momentary escape from my circumstances creates a bubble of fun I haven’t experienced in months.
Olivia proves to have an excellent eye, choosing pieces that complement my coloring and body type.
The emerald dress she mentioned fits like it was made for me, the silk draping in elegant lines that emphasize my curves without being overtly sexual.
When I emerge from the dressing room, both women gasp appreciatively.
“Girl,” Lydia breathes, “you look incredible.”
Olivia leans close and whispers so only I can hear, “Micah won’t know what hit him.” Then she gives me a knowing smirk.
Heat rises to my cheeks. “I don’t know if I should.”
“You absolutely should.” Olivia won’t take my no for an answer. “In fact, you need lingerie to match. Something that makes you feel powerful.”
The suggestion sends a shiver through me. Lucas always chose my underwear—tacky, overly sexual pieces that made me feel like a commodity. The idea of choosing for myself, of wearing something that makes me feel beautiful rather than exposed, holds powerful appeal.
In the privacy of the dressing room, while Lydia helps other customers, Olivia helps me select delicate pieces.
The blush-pink set with subtle lace detailing feels both innocent and alluring, designed to enhance rather than transform.
When I study my reflection, I hardly recognize myself.
Gone is the fearful woman who hid her body from her husband’s critical gaze.
In her place stands someone confident, someone worthy of desire.
“Perfect,” Olivia declares. “Though I bet Micah prefers you in nothing at all.”
I blush but don’t deny it. After a moment’s hesitation, I confide in her. “He’s so gentle with me. Even when he’s being dominant, I never feel afraid.”
“That’s because he respects you.” She meets my eyes in the mirror. “Real dominance comes from a place of care, not control. Lucas wanted to own you. Micah wants to protect you.”
Her insight strikes deep. “It should be weird, right? Being with my dead husband’s father?”
“And I’m the ex-wife of a mafia capo currently making eyes at Zeke King’s younger brother. Trust me, conventional relationships are overrated.”
This startles a laugh from me. “You and Sebastian? Really?”
Now it’s her turn to blush. “Maybe. Possibly. He’s interesting.”
“Interesting?” I tease. “That’s not what I’ve heard about him.”
“Oh, honey,” Olivia laughs, adjusting her position on the plush dressing room chair. “Seb is exactly what you’ve heard and then some. Total playboy. But that’s what makes him perfect right now.”
I grab the hanger from the hook, hanging the emerald dress carefully. “Perfect how?”
“Because neither of us wants anything serious. He’s upfront about not doing relationships, and I’m…” she pauses, considering her words, “let’s just say after Vinny, I need uncomplicated.”
“And Sebastian King is uncomplicated?” The skepticism in my voice makes her grin.
“The sex certainly is. Gloriously, mind-blowingly uncomplicated.” She fans herself dramatically. “That man knows exactly what he’s doing in bed. The things he can do with his tongue—”
“Olivia.” I glance toward the dressing room door, but we’re alone in this section.
“What? I’m just saying, there’s a reason he has that reputation. The other night, he had me screaming so loud I was sure his security detail would come to check on us.” Her eyes glaze over at the memory. “Three times. And that was just the warm-up.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but curiosity wins out. “You were at the club?”
“His private apartment. The view of Columbus is incredible, though honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention to the skyline.” She smirks. “Too busy admiring other views.”
“So it’s just physical then?”
“Completely. We meet up, have amazing sex, then go our separate ways. No expectations, no complications, no emotional entanglements.”
I chuckle at her candor. I look back at myself in the sexy lingerie and think about how I need more of this.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Lydia returns with an armful of new items for me to try. “Oh, and before I forget, we’re going out for dinner next week. You have to join us.”
The casual invitation creates immediate conflict.
The prospect of friendship and connection, pulls strongly against the reality of my situation.
Eve’s presence adds another layer of complexity—a co-worker of the detective investigating Lucas’s murder breaking bread with the woman responsible for his death.
When I hesitate, Olivia jumps in. “We’ll be there. Both of us.”
“But—”
“No buts.” She squeezes my hand. “You need this. We’ll figure out the details later.”
Though I doubt Micah will approve of this expanded social engagement, I nod.
The confidence in Olivia’s assertion—that everything will work out, that our circle will protect me—carries the weight of someone accustomed to navigating dangerous waters.
And God, I miss my friends. Miss a normal life.
Miss being more than just a woman in hiding.
By the time we finish shopping, my arms are laden with bags. The emerald dress, the lingerie, several casual outfits that make me feel like myself again. Olivia insisted on paying, waving away my protests with airy assurances that she has more money than she knows what to do with anyway.
Outside, the promised snow has begun to fall, delicate flakes drifting lazily from the leaden sky.
As we say our goodbyes, I feel a curious mixture of emotions—gratitude for these hours together, anxiety about returning to confinement, and underneath it all, a surprising eagerness to see Micah again.
I miss him after just a few hours apart, which signals a shift in our relationship that thrills and terrifies me. What began as necessity—his protection, my dependence—has evolved into something neither anticipated. A genuine connection, perhaps even … no, I’m not ready to name that feeling yet.
Walking toward the meeting point where Micah waits, shopping bags in hand and snowflakes catching in my eyelashes, I acknowledge a truth I’ve been avoiding.
Despite the taboo nature of our relationship, despite the legal dangers still threatening my freedom, despite the complicated history, Micah has become essential to me in ways that transcend gratitude or physical attraction.
This recognition should frighten me. Instead, it brings a strange clarity. It’s as though pieces of myself long scattered by Lucas’s abuse have finally begun to realign into something resembling wholeness.
And I have Micah to thank for that.