Chapter Two #4
“Think carefully before you deny anything, Mistress. Francois was simply a silent bodyguard, ready to guide you home when you were ready to return. Hate him if you must, but he did not interfere with your life—I have all of his daily reports filed in my office if you’d like to read them.”
Violet barely resisted strangling him with her bare hands. She hated them both right now—Boudreaux for being a pompous ass, and his little sidekick for remaining in her life long after she thought she’d gotten rid of the lecherous prick. “Is he still watching me?”
“I sent him on a well-deserved vacation for a few weeks. He was angry when he lost your trail out of Louisiana and punished himself by working his ass off over the past year to find you again.”
There was no sense of betrayal—Frank was, always had been, would forever be loyal to Boudreaux and only Boudreaux.
They’d been friends since they were young, pulling each other into trouble and fishing each other out again.
They’d remained the best of friends even after Boudreaux began amassing his wealth, with Frank choosing to stick by his side through thick and thin.
What her ex saw in him, she didn’t know, because all she’d ever been able to see was a squirrelly, perverted, devious, repulsive weasel of a man who did nothing but leech off Boudreaux and leer at her as though he spent his free time jacking off to images of her naked.
He creeped her out so much that she’d even laid down the gauntlet, telling Boudreaux that if he ever tried to share her with the covetous bastard, so much as let him near her when she was naked, there would be no discussion—she would be gone.
She shuddered at the thought of the dirty little rat stalking her, being privy to every intimate detail of her life, while she remained oblivious.
“I realize that not all the choices I’ve made will sit well with you, beignet. Nevertheless, I will not apologize for keeping you close to me by whatever means necessary.” Boudreaux inclined his head. “If there is a price to pay, I will pay it if it means we reunite with a clean slate.”
Oh, he was going to pay through the goddamn nose for every trick, every sneaky and underhanded tactic he’d used over the years to not only stalk her, but gain access to her in a private, exclusive club.
A slow, sinister smile curved her lips. The security team was not going to be impressed by the fact he’d used a false name to thwart their system—especially when they ran deep, thorough background checks on any potential member.
If Boudreaux’s fake name passed all the tests, it meant he’d gone the extra mile to create an identity so intricate, Derek Close might as well exist.
With any luck, Grit would revoke the membership, forcefully remove Boudreaux from the premises, and save her from any further interaction with him.
Once he was gone, she could quietly load her things into her car and leave, driving as fast and as far away as she could while Frank was conveniently elsewhere.
Yes, that would work quite well in her favor.
Casting a dismissive glance at his cock, Violet flicked her fingers in its direction. “Put that away and get dressed. Making amends isn’t going to be as easy as you think, Boudreaux, but you can start by coming clean with the club about your identity.”
Unperturbed, he simply nodded. “Very well, if this is what you wish.”
She waited impatiently, tapping her foot as he unhurriedly began to dress.
His slight grimace as he stuffed his cock back into the confines of his pants and eased the zipper up gave her an inordinate amount of pleasure—it served him right for thinking he could tempt her with the thing she’d once worshipped religiously.
For some inexplicable reason, she found herself looking away when he put on his shirt, covering up the violet tattoo.
It shouldn’t hold any meaning to her, shouldn’t tangle her emotions this way; it was a pretty piece of artwork inked into his skin.
Just because they had symbolic meaning to him didn’t mean she was obliged to feel the same.
The moment he was immaculately presented once more, Violet let her gaze rake up and down his body scathingly, wishing there was something she could criticize—a couple of buttons done up wrong, a twist in his belt, something, anything—but he gave her nothing.
Huffing out a breath, she whirled on her heels and stomped over to the door.
She might not be able to chastise him, but by God, she knew someone who would.
Grinning to herself, she decided to go above Grit’s head. He would be pissed, but she knew what Boudreaux’s charm could achieve when he turned it on full; there was one person in this place who wouldn’t succumb to it, no matter what.
Boudreaux, meet your match.
Boudreaux
What was she up to?
Following her, allowing himself to watch her ass move as she glided along the hallway effortlessly, Reaux narrowed his eyes as his brain spun various scenarios and dismissed them just as quickly.
He knew she was planning something, most likely an attempt to have him removed from the club before the web around her tightened any further.
Luckily, he was a man who thought ahead and was, hopefully, already several steps in front of whatever she hoped would happen next.
Coming here hadn’t been spur of the moment by any means—weeks of deliberation, careful negotiating, forward thinking were involved, and he’d double-checked every base before implementing his move.
He was slightly disappointed she hadn’t done more than blush lightly at the sight of his nakedness—his cock was still infuriated that she’d been within reach and yet so unattainable—but her initial rejection was nothing more than a stepping stone on his path.
She was a vision. Every inch the woman he always imagined her to be, with curves that would fit his hands perfectly, breasts designed to his mental specifications, and that ass…
well, he was excited to make his acquaintance with that.
It was the one part of herself she’d always held back, no exceptions, not even a fingertip.
This time around, Reaux was taking all of her.
The tattoo over his heart was more than just a visual representation of her name, it marked him as hers, as it had from the moment he inked the first violet into his skin.
No matter how deep his affection ran for certain submissives back home, his love was reserved for Violet and Violet alone.
They would be equals, he thought darkly.
He didn’t care how long it took, what he had to do, if she demanded he spend hours at a time on his knees waiting for her to simply look at him.
When they left Serenity and returned home to the sprawling empire crossing several Louisiana county lines, they would do so as Master and Mistress.
Unstoppable. Undefeated. Unbreakable.
King and Queen of Amatory.
She’d shortened her hair by several inches, but other than that and the subtle signs of over a decade of maturing, physically she was still his Violet.
Her confidence was louder and definitely prouder, and she’d fully encompassed the spirit of the Domme who’d once lurked beneath her submissiveness like an interloper.
Some might say she was a Switch, both dominant and submissive, but Reaux wasn’t convinced.
There were subs who shone brighter than a new penny in sunlight when they were on their knees, positively glowing with the need to please and fulfill their true selves.
On the other side of the coin, there were Dommes who dazzled with their strictness, compassion, and creativity.
Right now, his beignet was incroyable.
There wasn’t a hitch in her stride as she led him back to the main hallway, turning to approach the polished wooden doors at the very end.
An electronic sensor to the right beamed steady green, indicating they were open, but Violet stopped and knocked politely three times without even looking behind her.
“Come in.”
She straightened her spine further, squaring her shoulders as though preparing for battle. Curiously, she took a long, slow inhale, flexing her fingers before she grasped the handle and opened the door.
Was she afraid of her bosses? Intimidated by one or both of them?
Reaux frowned. By all accounts, the research he’d put into Serenity and its people indicated that both co-owners, Evander and Elias, were typically laid back kind of guys. Shrewd, business-savvy, focused, but generally approachable.
The older of the two, Elias, was apparently a sadist—Reaux couldn’t hold that against him. Sadism was a beautiful spectrum in the lifestyle, ranging from the soft to the extreme, adding a little color and spice to the world.
“Violet, perfect. I’ve been waiting for you to answer my messages, to no avail.” The slight edge of irritation in the man’s voice made her flinch; Reaux caught the barest flicker of reaction before she buried it by lifting her chin in challenge.
“If it’s about yesterday—”
“It’s not.” The man rose from his chair behind a desk big enough to hold an orgy on, standing to his full height of… six-six, maybe six-seven? When someone was that tall, what did an inch matter? Dark brown eyes raked over Reaux. “You brought me a guest. How kind.”
“This isn’t a social visit, Evander. Our guest here has a confession Elias needs to hear.”
“I see. Does our guest have a name?”
Reaux stepped forward, offering his hand across the desk along with an easy smile. “Apologies for the interruption. My name is Boudreaux Fontenot.” His smile widened when his name sparked recognition in those dark eyes. “I believe you logged me in the system as Derek Close, yes?”
They clasped hands, shaking once with a firm grip.
“Mr. Fontenot, of course. We’ve been expecting you; I didn’t realize you’d checked in. I’m very impressed with what you’ve created in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and… Lake Charles?”