Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Saturday night, Anne sat at her parents’ overcrowded table, trying to act festive and worrying about what would happen later when she met Ben at the Shadowlands.
Would he listen to her? Want to try again?
Breathe.
Unfortunately, the inhalation carried the fishy smell of red snapper—her father’s favorite dish—and her stomach turned over.
Wonderful. She took a careful sip of Sprite and fought for calm under the barrage of piercingly loud voices around the table.
Since this was her father’s birthday dinner, her uncles and their families were present. When they’d arrived, she’d greeted them with a cool politeness. Uncle Matt had looked guilty and still couldn’t meet her gaze. Naturally, Uncle Russell and Robert acted as if nothing was wrong,
But she was all for a detente with the relatives tonight since her emotions were already on a rollercoaster ride.
Every time she thought about Ben, she wanted to cry.
Every time she looked at her uncles, she wanted to throw something at them. And subscribe them to Ms. Magazine.
Every time Robert leered at her breasts, she wanted to beat him into a gory heap.
And that just wasn’t worth it…because the smell of the blood would probably make her throw up.
Her snort drew Travis’s attention, and he bumped his shoulder against hers. “What’s got you so quiet, sis?”
She shrugged. This wasn’t the time or place to indulge in a complaint fest.
Seated across the table, her cousin overheard. “She’s pouting because I run the recovery team now and she’s off completely. Or maybe it’s something else. You on the rag, cuz?”
Her mother gasped at his coarse insult.
“Shut your mouth, Robert,” Travis snapped.
Touching her brother’s arm, Anne shook her head. Rancorous discussions didn’t belong at a birthday dinner, and her mother’d put in long hours on the party.
“Tell you what,” Robert announced. “The guys were fucking happy to finally have a man leading them.”
The rodent wasn’t going to shut up.
Harrison growled, “Jesus, you’re so full of—”
“This discussion is more appropriately conducted at the office, not at a celebration,” Anne interrupted before things could get out of hand. “I’ll discuss this on Monday with the owners.”
“Thank you, darling,” her mother said, looking relieved.
Her father frowned. “What the hell is—”
“No need to wait.” Robert said. “About everyone here has been involved with the company at one time or another. I bet they’re interested in how you’re always trying to shove your way into running everything.”
She eyed the rat. “I didn’t have to shove my way anywhere. I built that team from scratch and ran it because I have the education, experience, and skills to do so.” Still hoping to salvage the dinner, she didn’t add, “all of which you lack.”
Harrison growled, “Exactly.”
Perhaps her cousin had heard the part she left out. He glared. “You don’t have anything that I—”
“Enough.” Her What-the-Fuck Meter zoomed past orange and into red.
“You took the team because you can’t stand taking directions from a woman.
You’re not a leader because you’re better, but because you went crying to your daddy—which you do whenever you don’t get your way.
I realize it’s difficult to man up when your equipment is the size of peanuts but do give it a try. ”
Robert turned purple.
Travis inhaled beer, making appalling sounds on her right. Most of the relatives were roaring with laughter.
Not all.
Her father leaned forward and raised his voice over the noise. “Russell, you’ve removed Anne from fugitive recovery?”
“Since Robert is quite capable of leading the team, I decided to make the change.” Russell’s florid complexion was heightened; his jowls quivered with anger. “I’ve never been comfortable sending a woman into combat, so to speak.”
Anne choked her response back. Why fight to remain as team leader when her pregnancy would sideline her soon anyway? But she’d worked her hardest for her uncles and to make her team the best. Being booted out…
It hurt.
Robert gave her father a sincere look. “A woman is far too liable to get herself killed. And a wanna-be cop doesn’t have what it takes.”
“A what?” her mother asked in surprise. “She’s not—”
“Robert has his head up his ass,” Harrison interrupted, frowning at Matt.
“If you don’t recall, you and Russell hired her so she could bring in her law enforcement experience and train your agents.
The team was her idea and creation. And she’s why you have the highest recovery percentages in Florida—and the lowest insurance rates. ”
“That may be, but recovering skips is still no place for a woman,” Matt said.
She’d known Uncle Matt had qualms, but he was the one who’d recruited her. Now—because of Robert—he’d changed his mind. The betrayal was another small ping of pain in a growing avalanche.
When Travis started to speak, Anne shook her head at him. No point.
What a disaster. She needed to get their attention and quiet this mess. This was her father’s birthday party, not a venue for a verbal brawl. She held up her hand. “Uncle M—”
“I must say, I’m relieved. I never wanted my girl to work recovery and endanger her life for a few extra bucks. It’s just not safe.” The words came from the head of the table.
From her father.
She turned to look at him, feeling as if he’d picked up the knife sitting beside his plate and plunged it into her heart.
Robert could manipulate his father into anything—because his father believed his child could do anything.
Her father was the opposite.
She’d tried all her life to be competent—outstanding—in any task, especially the ones traditionally assigned to men. She’d succeeded.
But her father, the one who should have believed in her and supported her, didn’t.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She pushed her chair back.
“Anne, no,” Harrison whispered.
She felt Travis grip her arm and shook him free.
“You win, Dad.” Shoulders back, chin up, she faced her father. “You’ve made it clear over and over that you don’t think I can be as good at anything as your sons.”
Her father’s face went blank. “Anne—”
“Darling.” Her mother’s face was white. “He doesn’t—”
“He does, Mom. It’s fine. I get it.” Her voice didn’t betray the echoing emptiness inside. Her gaze turned to Russell. “You win too. I quit as of this moment.” She glanced at Travis. “Please pick up my things for me.”
Face set, he nodded.
Finally, she looked at Robert. “You are a slimy turd not worth scraping off my stiletto, let alone speaking to. So fair warning. If you ever address me again for any reason, you’ll wake up in a hospital bed, pissing blood for a month.”
Silence accompanied her as she walked out.
In the Shadowlands, Ben leaned against a black leather couch and idly watched a chain station scene.
In a dark-red suit, the Domme was wielding a cane on a gray-haired submissive.
Her husband, actually, as Ben recalled. She was whacking him in time with the Aboriginal-sounding drums of Massive Attack’s “Inertia Creeps.” His groans provided an interesting counterpoint to the lead singer’s whispers.
The Domme stopped to observe her sub.
The man kept trying to look over his shoulder. As the seconds passed without a blow, he continued to tense.
“Take a deep breath now,” she ordered in a light, sweet voice.
The guy didn’t listen.
Bad move, bro, Ben said to him silently.
And yep…
The Domme moved the cane and lightly swatted her beloved’s ball sac.
The man’s yelp pulled in air—and focused his attention on his Mistress, where it belonged.
Ouch. Ben shook his head, recalling how a whack in the jewels felt. Poor fucker. Why were Dommes so fascinated with a guy’s junk?
Not that he was complaining. The results were—he watched the guy shake with the need to come—like that.
“You are not working security this evening?” The Spanish-accented voice came from Ben’s right. Raoul glanced at the scene. “Are you taking notes for Mistress Anne?”
Just the sound of her name upped his pulse as if an RPG had hit nearby—and made his chest ache. Dammit, he missed her.
Raoul’s brows drew together. “’Mano, are you all right?”
“Don’t know yet.” Ben turned away from the action. “I told her I’m not cut out to be a slave.”
“It was what she needed to know, yes?” Raoul studied him. “What was her response?”
“She asked for time to think.” Not even the beauty of the Everglades had been able to keep his mind from Anne. The slow sway of the royal palms reminded him of her grace. High clouds in a sunlit sky made him remember how her eyes lightened when she was happy.
But now the time had come to hear her answer, and he was worried shitless. “She’ll tell me tonight what she decided.”
Raoul’s jaw tightened, and Ben could see he wasn’t optimistic.
“You know something I don’t?” Ben asked.
“Only that when slaves have requested more from her—to receive more attention and time or to live with her—she would pull away, match them with Dommes who would satisfy their needs, and find herself someone new.”
Great. Being replaced would be even worse than being dumped. A lead ball settled in Ben’s gut.
Raoul moved his shoulders. “Although for you, she might, perhaps…change.”
Change. And Anne. Right. Ben tried to shrug. “It’ll fall out as it will.”
“Life does do that,” Raoul agreed gently. “Will you… Can I—”
“I’ll be fucking fine.” Because Anne had forced him to see that life was meant to be lived. “She should be here by now.”
Why in the world had she exploded at her father and uncles? Anne shook her head as she walked into the Shadowlands clubroom. Her body, even her skin, felt fragile, like a hollowed-out egg that the slightest bump would crack.
Of course, the confrontations with her father and her uncles had been long overdue. She hadn’t said anything she hadn’t thought for a long time. It had been…maybe…a bit freeing to express herself.
But for the rodent Robert to set off the fire and make her burn her bridges so thoroughly? That stung.