Chapter One #2
“No… punitive… measures…” Jennifer repeated dutifully, obviously typing it into the notes section of Adrian’s file.
She glanced at Violet. “Master Grit will be alerted once I update the client file; the system automatically sends the restriction to the security team for review. What would you like me to tell him when he asks for a reason for the block?”
Fuck, she really didn’t want this clusterfuck spreading around the club via the gossip mill, Violet thought. Not even amongst the upper echelons. Rumors and speculation didn’t need much encouragement to take root, spreading like bamboo roots beneath the surface, ruining reputations.
“If Grit—” Or any of the other nosy bastards, “—Elias, or Evander, for that matter, want a reason, tell them to speak to me. Otherwise, the situation has been dealt with appropriately.”
“I… yes, Mistress, I’ll let them know.”
Several peals of girlish laughter erupted from the bar behind her, seeping through the doors. Familiar laughter coming from friends she loved, Violet noted. Friends she didn’t have the time, patience, or right frame of mind to deal with right now.
The Littles were fun, rambunctious, and adorable at times; Callie was a good influence on the far quieter, much more shy Sierra. Tabitha definitely was not a Little—in all honesty, it was surprising she was a submissive, because there was an edge to her that…
Fuck the edge, the woman was downright intimidating.
Back to the wall, surrounded by rabid raccoons intimidating.
As for Tamsyn… well, she was coming out of her shell, but it was rare she was out of Merrick’s line of sight. Her story was a tragic one, beyond the realm of believability unless one heard Tamsyn tell the tale.
Rape, murder, bartering systems where women were the currency.
It was horrific. Violet couldn’t imagine being born into what had essentially been a cult where fathers traded their daughters, knowing full well the odds of them being brutally raped and murdered once the paperwork was signed were high, and trained their sons to follow in their barbaric footsteps.
No, she couldn’t bear to sit and chat to the hyper, the intense, and the wounded friends in her life. She wouldn’t be good company, not with the memories Adrian’s fiasco brought to the surface, and she was not prepared to accidentally rip anyone’s head off if they said the wrong thing.
Inclining her head at Jennifer, Violet walked away, heading for the doors leading outside. If she said a silent prayer asking to leave without interference, that was between her and whoever might be listening to such things.
The prayer was answered; she stepped onto the porch circling the clubhouse and breathed deep of the crisp, cool fall air. In just a few weeks, it would be Halloween, and Serenity was preparing to celebrate its first year of kinky sex, debauchery, and new familial bonds.
A whole year, Violet mused, closing her eyes.
A whole year she’d been away from her home state, away from her family, her friends, him.
Truth be told, she didn’t miss them, not as much as she’d believed.
The occasional phone call, a random letter from her parents, were all she was worth in terms of their time now that she’d removed herself from their immediate circle.
In John and Evelyn’s eyes, their only daughter committed an unspeakable crime against the family when she accepted the position here at Serenity—not that they knew the details of where she was or what she was doing—and moved to Denver.
Christ, if they had any inkling she was a Mistress, a Domme…
She’d be written out of the family bible so fast, the pen would leave scorch marks on the page, and her branch of the family tree would be lopped off and shoved through a wood chipper.
All traces of her would be removed from the Broussard lineage.
Violet sighed. Her parents and brothers never understood who she was at the heart.
They didn’t care that she loved and loved deeply, or that she was her own person.
Unless she was home, within the confines of their unspoken control, and prepared to forgo any semblance of her own life in order to marry, procreate, and continue the bloodline…
Violet Broussard didn’t exist.
It had taken too long for her to make the change, to walk away from her family and her entire life in Louisiana.
Without the opportunity from Serenity, she doubted she would ever have left, not even with the toxic familial atmosphere smothering her on a daily basis, and the continuous fear a certain someone—whose name she refused to even think—might cross her path unexpectedly.
She stared out across the rustic buildings where kink and sex were celebrated instead of shunned, over to the cabins where guests spent their vacations, and some of the Masters were building homes with their subs.
There was so much here, from the spa to the swimming pool, the employee dorms at the far side of the complex to Levi’s photography studio.
It was heaven.
She rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. Coming here was the best thing she’d ever done for herself. It closed the door on Violet Broussard and opened a window to the creation of Violet Enderfield.
New start, new woman, new future.
Boudreaux
She was so close, he could almost taste her.
For almost a goddamn year, his little beignet had been out of his sight, off his radar, and no amount of strings he pulled or favors he exchanged had been enough to find out where she’d gone.
From the moment he first saw her—young and innocent, her dark hair swirling in the breeze when she threw her head back and laughed at something one of the stupid, impudent boys she’d been hanging around with said, and her eyes alive with delight—she’d belonged to him.
Reaux scowled at the sprawling BDSM complex stretched out over several acres of land, tucked into the base of a mountain and artfully merged with the surrounding forest.
As part of his reservation here, a fully-uniformed driver in a souped-up golf cart had arrived at the pickup point to collect him and his single bag.
Seeing as he preferred to walk—and maintain the element of surprise—Reaux had sent the guy off with his bag and spent the last thirty minutes taking a peaceful stroll through the forest.
Honestly, he didn’t know how Violet would react to seeing him again. Their breakup had been… regretfully brutal, on his side. While he hadn’t been her first lover, something he regretted to this very day, he had been her everything for a damn decade.
Unfortunately, during those years, it was clear she was unhappy, stifling herself and her dominant urges in order to please him. That was not what he’d wanted for her, not when it made her ridiculously unhappy.
Attempts to get her to express her inner Domme were… unsuccessful.
So, in true, selfless style, Reaux had set his little bird free to find herself, letting her spread her wings and become the woman he knew she was meant to be. Of course, unbeknownst to her, that freedom wasn’t truly freedom, not with the leash tethered around her ankle.
Violet Broussard was his, only his, and would remain so until the day one of them died.
It didn’t help, did it, when his naughty little beignet did the unthinkable, however, and absconded from everything and everyone she knew, leaving her home and state, disappearing into the ether where even his most powerful connections seemed useless.
The two years they’d been apart seemed endless, yet it was the last twelve months which really hit him hard, when she’d been a very bad girl and changed her name.
The beat-up, piece of shit car she drove from her home in Louisiana on her last day there was recovered by his righthand man two hundred miles away, dumped off the highway with a multitude of issues with the engine—the fucking thing had broken down, leaving his heart stranded at the mercy of strangers.
The sheer fury he’d felt when he heard had tainted his mood black for days.
If she’d been within reach, Domme or not, her ass would’ve been a bright, blistering red from a repeated application of his hand; she knew better than to put herself at risk in such a manner.
After that, she’d disappeared off the radar.
Gone.
Months of searching, digging, scouring the fucking country and nothing.
Finally, with a touch of luck and many thousands of dollars thrown into the hunt, his little beignet was finally within reach again. Once he had everything in position, he would—
“Hey, there. Are you lost?”
Quirking an eyebrow in displeasure, Reaux turned to face the man who interrupted his quiet moment of reflection. “Not in the least. Just admiring the view.”
Tall, beefy, and blond, the guy eyed him with the critical stare of a cop. It wasn’t the friendliest expression, but then, he was wearing a security uniform and a utility belt packed with all sorts of interesting goodies—including a taser. “Are you a guest, sir?”
“As soon as I join my luggage down there and check in,” Reaux confirmed, gesturing to the buildings. “Is there a problem with me being here?”
“Not at all, sir. We like to keep security at Serenity tight for the safety and comfort of our members. Most take the golf cart; it’s unusual to find someone on foot.” The security guard tugged a radio from his belt. “Would you mind if I verify your reservation, sir? For my own peace of mind.”
Yes, he damn well did, actually. This was the kind of thing that might give his precious Violet forewarning of his arrival. Still, judging by the look in the guard’s eyes, if Reaux didn’t cooperate, he wasn’t going past this point without a fight.
“Of course. Check under the name Derek Close. My bag should be waiting at reception if the driver delivered it as promised.”
“Thanks.” Lifting the radio, the guy spoke into it. “Jennifer, you there?”
“I am, indeed.”
“It’s Donovan. I’m on the back pathway to the parking lot with a gentleman. Can you check his status for me?”
“I just need a name, Donovan.”