Epilogue
Boudreaux
Two weeks passed quickly, faster than he liked.
Two weeks of falling back into a familiar routine, making two cups of coffee in the morning instead of one, adjusting to sleeping and waking beside a soft, warm form instead of cold sheets and empty pillows.
At Violet’s behest, they’d spent more time in the club, wringing out every extra minute of time they could with her friends as the clock ticked down to tonight.
It was their last night in the cabin.
Violet’s car was already stuffed with her belongings, all but the essentials.
Her clients had been notified of her impending departure; Reaux wasn’t unhappy to field several enquiries about membership at Amatory when they found out she was relocating, although he had yet to discuss what she wanted to do regards work once they were home.
Discussing anything with her at the moment was akin to taking his life in his hands. She flipped from sad and quiet to snappish and bitchy within a breath, and vice versa; he wasn’t sure whether to pin it on the move home or potential pregnancy hormones, but either way, talking was off-limits.
Sex, however, was not. Given her volatile mood swings, Reaux erred on the side of caution and tactfully refused to scene with her until they settled; he saw no point in tempting fate to fuck things up by trapping them in a scene if she lost control.
Making love to her, however, was actually kind of therapeutic for them both.
Stepping out of the cabin, he locked the door behind him.
Tonight was Serenity’s Halloween-slash-anniversary party, and Violet was already at the clubhouse, helping with the final touches.
He’d gotten caught up on a call to the Baton Rouge branch of Amatory, which was why he was almost half an hour behind her.
They were leaving in the morning. He discovered he was a little sad about going, especially when this place was so calm and peaceful. There was something about the woods that just soothed the rough edges of his soul—maybe coming back a few times a year for a vacation wasn’t a bad idea.
“Hey.”
Boots crunching on the gravel, his breath streaming into the cold night, Reaux strode down the path, surprised by the number of guests heading in the same direction. Wild and wacky costumes were everywhere, with a few more conservative options merging in.
He wasn’t one for costumes, so he’d chosen comfort over imagination.
“Hey!”
Violet was in the same frame of mind, he mused, judging by what she’d been wearing as she walked out the door. In all honesty, he’d have been happy leaving a couple days ago and missing the party altogether, but he couldn’t cut her remaining time with her friends short.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him around mid-step. It released him with a shove, almost knocking him on his ass, and he felt his hackles rise at the unprovoked attack. “What the fuck?”
The assailant wasn’t quite as tall as Reaux, but he was dressed to flaunt his wealth in an immaculate black tie ensemble that screamed money, money, money!
If it was an intimidation tactic, it failed miserably—just because Reaux didn’t adorn himself in the finest silks and wear his bank account for all to see did not mean he didn’t recognize those who did for what they were.
Dark brown, almost mahogany colored hair, was cut in what should have been a neat and tidy style fit for the boardroom, but it seemed the guy had run his hands through it enough times to make it stand up in awkward tufts.
Reaux assumed the guy was usually clean-shaven; his beard was short, unkempt, definitely not groomed to upper echelon standards. It was the kind of scruff a man obtained during a three-day bender.
It was his eyes, however, that caught Reaux’s full attention. Under other circumstances, he guessed the man’s honey-brown irises were warm, friendly, maybe even as soft as a damn puppy dog’s if he wanted to be fanciful.
Right now, they were murderous.
Hard, confrontational, distinctly unfriendly.
“Pretty sure violence against another member is prohibited,” Reaux drawled, his accent becoming more pronounced as it tended to do when his temper was provoked. Rolling his shoulders, he braced for whatever came next. “What the hell is your problem?”
“It’s your fault,” the guy hissed. “It’s all your fault.”
“Most shit comes back on me even when it’s not. I don’t know you, buddy, but take your issue and walk away.” Hoping to solve it himself, Reaux took a step around the idiot.
“Why you? Why you and not me?”
Frustrated, Reaux threw his hands in the air. “What are we talking about here? Why do you have a screw loose and I do not? The universe is a mystery; only it knows the answers to baffling questions.”
“Mistress Violet.” Spittle flew from the man’s snarling mouth. “I proposed. I got her a ring. I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s meant to be mine.”
Yes, that was definitely not his problem, Reaux thought, even as he sympathized with the guy. Loving Violet was the greatest joy one could have; when that love wasn’t reciprocated, it was unfathomably painful.
How would he have felt if she’d turned him down and gotten engaged to another man?
Dejected, apoplectic… the mirror image of the guy in front of him.
Keeping that in mind, he held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Look—shit, what’s your name?”
“Adrian.”
“Adrian, right. I really wish I could tell you something that would make you feel better, but I’m familiar with heartbreak.
There isn’t an instant cure. I could let you beat the hell out of me, but that’s not going to be a good evening for either of us.
” Reaux sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Violet is her own woman; I spent ten years learning that, another two missing it, and the last month admiring it. Truth is, turning you down wasn’t a reflection of you.
Can’t offer your heart to someone when it belongs to another. ”
Adrian bristled. “Don’t try to placate me.”
“Won’t waste my breath. It’s a cold night, Adrian, and I’ve things to do. If you want to fight, let’s go. If you want to move past this, come with me inside and have a drink. If neither of those appeal to you, it’s time to go our separate ways. As much as it hurts, Violet chose her path.”
The older man sneered, his arm lifting with one hand fisted. He seemed to struggle with his temper, restraining what was likely vicious vitriol in verbal form, then dropped his fist. “You’ll never give her the life I offered. The pair of you deserve each other.”
Ah, not love then, but infatuation, Reaux realized as his sympathy dried up.
He watched the not-so distinguished gentleman stalk away down the path, muttering nasty sentiments, and wondered if Violet knew what kind of man she’d almost saddled herself with; because, make no mistake, Adrian was not truly submissive and, if he was a Dom in sheep’s clothing, Reaux pitied the poor soul who trusted him.
Real heartbreak should not erase pride or dignity.
Not in public, anyway.
Shaking his head, Reaux waited until the disgruntled client was out of sight before continuing onward. The unpleasant interlude wasn’t going to ruin his night unless Adrian’s path crossed his again before morning.
A small clowder of cat-costumed subs bolted up the clubhouse steps ahead of him, giggling and meowing at each other as they rushed to get out of the cold.
He followed an elegant couple inside, cocking his head as he tried to figure out if they were aiming for Downton Abbey vibes or a fancy version of 1923.
Chilled muscles relaxed in the warmth; music and laughter assaulted his ears.
The party was in full swing.
The double doors into the bar and restaurant were propped open, creating a throughway from drinks to food, and guests mingling everywhere in between.
He forged a path around the clowder, almost taking an elbow to the chest as they sucked in an extra kitten and celebrated by jumping around, arms flailing.
He spotted Callie dressed as Little Bo Beep, and needed to take a moment to rein in his laughter when he caught sight of her husbands—the owners of Serenity were most certainly in character, looking decidedly sheepish in their sheepskin waistcoats.
The red ribbon around each of their necks with a little bell on was a nice touch.
Reaux appreciated attention to detail.
Grit was standing by the bar, beer in hand, talking to Jonah as Reaux walked up. Grinning, the Master of Security raised the bottle in welcome. “You made it. Can I get you a drink?”
“That’s my job,” Jonah reminded him.
“Maybe later. I was hoping to find Violet.”
“Oh, she stole Tabitha for one last pep talk before you guys leave. Damn shame,” Grit muttered, taking a swig of beer.
“You are one lucky bastard, you know that, right? The bosses hired some fantastic Mistresses, but Violet… there’s gonna be a big hole come morning.
I guess Serenity’s loss is Amatory’s gain. ”
“If you want me to apologize, I’m not going to do so.”
“I wouldn’t either, but you might need to apologize for the lack of effort in your costume.”
“This coming from…” Eyeballing the tan-colored shorts and shirt, Reaux lifted a brow.
“I’m the Zookeeper. My tiger’s on the loose.”
“Did you actually dress that firecracker up like a tiger?”
“Hell, yeah. Tabitha’s learning to let go and have some fun. It’s a long, drawn out process, but we’re getting there.” Grit’s gaze arrowed to the doorway, softening as it landed on something he loved so much, it lit him up on the inside. “She’s stunning, isn’t she?”
Reaux turned, but his eyes slid over the petite blonde wearing a white tiger mask and matching catsuit to land on the woman who’d walked out of their cabin earlier in an entirely different ensemble. “Yes, she is. Jonah, I have an urge to dance with my soon to be wife; are you taking requests?”
“Song requests?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, sure, I guess.” Jonah pushed a notepad and pen across the bar. “Write it down.”