Chapter 37
I love subbie sleepovers,even if the reason for this one is awful. I love them even more when Daddy lets me fall asleep in the subbie pile but then carries me upstairs to our big bed. As good as sleepovers are, sleeping with Daddy is always better. He seems to understand that I’m too sad for Os and just cuddles me all night.
When I wake up in the morning, Daddy’s still asleep beside me, even though it’s well past the time he usually gets up. I think yesterday was a lot for him, too.
I ease my way out of bed and use the bathroom quickly because it will be in demand today with so many people in the house, even if Warrin, Bravo, and Sean took their subbies home last night and Jiro and Laurel went back to their hotel. A hotel that should become Miranda-free today. And, yes, I intend to call to make sure. Just because I don’t plan to add to the woman’s misery by pushing for her prosecution, doesn’t mean I’m not going to ensure she leaves the country. The Mir-beast needs to go.
I check on Livvy, who is awake and kicking happily in her sleeping sack but not crying. The floor around her crib is littered with Little Larrys, including one that she somehow managed to pull or kick off the bar of sensory toys over the crib.
“Has someone been caber tossing this morning, Livvy-bit? What a strong girl!”
I gather up the stuffed dinosaurs and baby. A quick change of diaper and onesie and she’s ready for breakfast. According to her schedule, she’s with Master Mac today but I don’t know if Daddy will want to keep to the schedule with everything that’s going on.
“We’ll just be flexible today, won’t we, baby?” I tell her as I take her downstairs. I hear footsteps and water running upstairs, so Mac or Bren or both are up. The great room is dark and quiet and someone’s drawn the heavy curtain we rarely use between the living room area and the kitchen/dining room area. I duck through the curtain and find Mr. De Leon sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee.
Daddy definitely did not give Mr. De Leon access to the house but it probably shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here.
“Good morning, Mr. De Leon.”
“Good morning, Emily. I made some scrambled eggs and coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, sir, I don’t mind.” Daddy may but I don’t. People who feed themselves without making a mess in my kitchen are my favorite kind of guest. I can’t see so much as a dirty fork as I move around the island and take out packs of frozen breakfast links to defrost.
“I hear water running. Is your daddy up?”
I shake my head. “Yesterday was a tough day. He’s having a lie-in.”
Mr. De Leon turns his coffee cup around in his hands. “Yes, it was.”
I saw him with Fleur at our Halloween-Eve-Eve party. They were cuddling during the ghost stories. Does he have feelings for her? Or is it just that he’s been spending a lot of time with Cappa, and Cappa and Fleur are close?
Those aren’t questions I’m going to ask today. They’re not important in the face of what’s happened.
“Have you seen Fleur?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “She’s not conscious yet so they’re only allowing her designated medical contact in. But Jack assisted with her surgery last night and I was able to talk to him when I got back into the country.”
Was he out of the country? I thought Cappa was staying at his house?
“She had another surgery?” I ask hesitantly as I prepare Livvy’s bottle.
Mr. De Leon nods. “The bone around her left eye was broken. The surgeon in New Jersey set it but the surgeon at Presbyterian was concerned about something called recession, so they did another surgery last night.”
“Daddy didn’t let me hear about her injuries yesterday. Are they very bad?”
Mr. De Leon tips his head from side to side but doesn’t look up from his coffee cup. “I’ve seen worse.”
I have a feeling he means on a battlefield. And that he’s being cavalier because he doesn’t want to upset me.
“Do they know when she’ll wake up?” I ask.
“No. It could be a few days yet. They’re letting her sleep as long as her body needs to.”
I sit down across from him with Livvy and her feeding supplies. “Would you like to feed Livvy, Mr. De Leon?” I ask.
He glances up from his coffee cup, surprise written across his face. Mr. De Leon almost never looks straight at you, even when he talks to you. He has startling, gray eyes, like a Husky. Today, they’re red-rimmed and bloodshot.
“Yes, I would, Emily. Thank you.”
I push the feeding supplies across the table before walking around to give him the baby. He holds her correctly: at a 45-degree angle with the bottle horizontal, the milk just filling the nipple so she has to suck. I see he’s remembered the British nurse’s instructions.
“We’re doing paced feedings,” I explain to him. “She should be stopping to take a breath every three to five sucks. Less or more than that and we stop to give her a break.”
Mr. De Leon nods. He holds the bottle like he’d hold a cup of tea, with his pinkie-finger extended. Livvy grabs his finger and stares up at him as she sucks.
“Hey, baby,” he says. “Seriously doubt you remember me but it’s good to see you again.”
If she didn’t remember him at all, she’d probably be fussing, although Livvy’s very calm with strangers, possibly from spending the first month of her life in the hospital, being handled by lots of different nurses and doctors.
“Do you like babies, Mr. De Leon?” I ask.
He nods without looking away from the baby.
“Would you like some of your own some day?”
He chuckles. “Are you offering?”
“No, sir.”
“Sorry, I know that was rude. I’m not used to people asking me personal questions. Yes, I would like a baby or two of my own someday but not until after my father dies. He’s never getting his hands on my kids.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry for. How’s your mum? I know she’s in a home.”
I prop my head on my hand and watch Livvy feed. “She’s not doing so well. She has advanced dementia. She doesn’t remember anyone. She has delusions. But the home she’s in is very nice. They take good care of her.”
“My mum was institutionalized for three years before she died,” he says. “Sometimes, the best we can do for the people we love is let someone else take care of them.”
“Is it the best we can do for them?” I ask. “Because some days it feels like a cop-out.”
Mr. De Leon’s eyes flash to mine. “You’re a very good writer, Emily. I’ve read three of your books. Could you have cared for your mother and written your books, too?”
He’s read my books? Stunned, I shake my head.
“I couldn’t have done my job and cared for my mother, either. Just visiting her once a week left me a husk. The people who cared for my mother and are caring for yours have the skills and ability to do what we can’t. So, yes, it is the best we can do for them.”
I look down at the table and let his words sink in. They soothe a raw place in my heart that I wasn’t even aware of.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You’re welcome. If you’d ever like to talk about what’s happening with your mum, I’m happy to listen. I understand what it’s like to watch someone you love lose themselves by inches.”
“I will. Sometimes I really struggle after I’ve visited her.”
“You can call me anytime. Your daddy has my number.”
“Thank you.”
He sets the bottle down on the table, props Livvy up with a hand on her chest, and rubs her back. She lets out three, froggy burps and then coos.
Mr. De Leon chuckles before settling her back in the crook of his arm and offering her the bottle and his pinkie again.
“How are you liking being a mum?” he asks.
I could tell him I’m not Livvy’s mum; I’m Daddy’s best little babysitter. But I don’t feel like a babysitter anymore. Livvy’s as much my family as Daddy or Master Mac or my Big Sub Bestie.
“I love it,” I tell him honestly.
“How’s the balance of parenthood and littlehood?” he asks.
“Is ‘littlehood’ a thing?” I grin at him, which he must see in his peripheral vision, because he smiles down at Livvy. Littlehood is unquestionably a thing, I just like teasing him gently because he’s new to the lifestyle. “It’s good. Daddy’s schedule keeps everything balanced. I’m more of a middle anyway. It hasn’t been hard to wrap parenthood into my middleness.”
Mr. De Leon nods without taking his eyes off the baby. “Do you think it would be more difficult to balance if you went younger and couldn’t care for Livvy while you were being very little?”
“Probably,” I admit. “But I also think I’d have trouble sustaining a very young mindset for long periods of time. I might just ask Daddy to build in a block of time every day for me to be very young while someone else looks after Livvy.”
“That makes sense—” Mr. De Leon breaks off; his eyes slide toward the curtain. “Your daddy’s up.”
His hearing’s really good. Now that he mentions it, I can hear the slap of Daddy’s huge wolfy feet across the floor but I didn’t notice it until he brought it to my attention. Daddy pushes through the curtain.
“Myles? Sorry, I didn’t see your message until just now.”
“That’s because you were asleep when I sent it at four in the morning. Like a normal person.” Mr. De Leon’s mouth twitches. “You’re allowed to sleep, Logan.”
“Have you?”
Mr. De Leon’s smile dies. “Not yet.”
“How many days of ‘not yet’ is that?” Daddy asks.
“Two. I had trouble getting back on short notice. Had to do some hiking.” His mouth twitches again. “And steal a motorcycle.”
Daddy chuckles. “Baby, can I help with breakfast?”
The right answer is “no” because Bren and I have breakfast under control and anyone else in the kitchen just gets in our way. But Daddy’s wearing his frowny line this morning even though he’s only been up for five minutes: he hasn’t even brushed his hair or shaved yet. I can tell he needs to feel useful.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, before rising from my chair and sinking down on my knees in front of him. I open my mouth.
Mr. De Leon swears softly. “I keep forgetting to ask for that.”
Daddy cups my face in his big, warm palm. “The beauty of a relationship with your submissive is that you don’t have to ask. Very good girl, Emily. Daddy’s going to take a rain check until after breakfast. We’ll take a shower together when Mac takes Livvy to daycare and then you can offer me your mouth. I love you very much, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
He offers me his hand and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. “What can Daddy do to help with breakfast?”
“Can you get out plates and silverware and stack them on the island, then get out the warming plate and big tray for the sausages? I’ll put the sausages on the grill and then could you keep an eye on them and turn them every five minutes?”
“Yes, little girl, I can do all that.”
I give him a kiss on the chin before trotting off into the kitchen.
Dana and Austin are next up, emerging quietly from the basement. Dana has a bad shoulder, Austin’s told me, so sleeping on the floor, even on a pile of cushions and pillows and blankets and subbies, is out. Austin offers to help me in the kitchen while Dana takes a turn feeding Livvy. I get Austin mixing biscuits, which he can do on the other side of the island so there aren’t too many butts in my kitchen, while I make gravy.
I hear Dana and Mr. De Leon talking quietly over the baby’s sucking noises. They’re using words like “drug withdrawal,” “extensive therapy,” “permanent scarring.” I know they’re talking about Fleur. Each word I catch makes my stomach whir horribly. I catch Austin’s eye. He gives me a worried nod.
I’ve put the biscuits in and started scrambling eggs when I finally hear Master Mac and Bren come through the great room.
They’re easy to hear because they’re having a full-blown argument, even though they’re trying to keep it quiet in deference to the five subbies still sleeping on the floor in front of the TV. But I know because Bren doesn’t hiss like that unless she’s pissed off. She also doesn’t march into spaces with her arms crossed over her chest, even though she’s just wearing a “Navy men know where to put their missiles” shirt that barely covers her thighs.
Mr. De Leon chuckles softly before he takes Livvy back from Dana and burps her.
As soon as Master Mac lets the curtain fall closed behind him, Bren whirls on him, planting her hands on her hips.
“I love you, Sir, and I say this with all due respect but you are fucking wrong.”
It’s Mac’s turn to cross his arms over his chest. “Is that so, girl?”
“Yes. If you hadn’t been born in the damn Renaissance you’d know that you can’t keep a fifteen-year-old from finding out what she wants to know. Kids have unprecedented access to information now with nothing more than a phone. I’m betting True can program rings around you. Any parental control you set up, she’s going to work around it. She’s gotten a good look at kink now, and she’s not going to let it go just because the authority figures in her life—most of whom she doesn’t trust anyway—tell her to. Why are you forcing her to stumble her way into kink through what she finds on the internet?”
“Cause she’s fifteen fucking years old. She should be in school, doing the things fifteen-year-olds do, mooning over rock stars and gossiping about who has a crush on who?—”
“Oh my fucking Benevolence,” Bren hisses, throwing her hands up. “Maybe that’s what fifteen-year-olds did five hundred years ago when you were fifteen but that’s not what they do now, Sir. She’s already had sex. She’s already watched scenes. She broke into a kink club because she identified it as a safe space. She’s actively seeking out submission and you’re denying it to her because of a number on a calendar.”
“I’m denying it to her because it’s the law, girl. Anyone who acts as her dominant right now is breaking the law.”
“Only if they have sex with her! There are a thousand ways you or any other experienced Dom could top her that wouldn’t break the law.”
“Any experienced Dom is going to be a decade older than her.”
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? It’s the same fucking thing over and over. It’s the perception that an older man is preying on her, grooming her, when she’s the one who is actively seeking out his dominance. You haven’t done that to me, Sir, and you wouldn’t do that to her. She needs rules. She needs guidance. She needs a safety net. Or she’s going to find it on her own. She’s going to get online with some goddamn predator who really does groom her. He’s going to draw her into an unsafe space and break her. She’s going to be preyed on just like?—”
She breaks off, wild eyed and panting.
“Say it, little goddess,” Mac growls. “Say it.”
“Okay, just like I was! Is that what you want to hear? That I’m projecting my experiences onto True? I am. Because I know what it’s like in the chat rooms and the clubs. I know what it means to get a fake ID and sneak in when you’re far too young and inexperienced. I know what happens when you taunt someone who’s a predator rather than a real dominant and they turn on you. I know, okay?” Tears roll down Bren’s cheeks and she dashes them away angrily. “Please, Sir, please, can’t we do better? Why does this have to happen over and over again? Can’t we learn from our fucking mistakes?”
Mac holds out his arms and she rushes into them. He holds her against his chest while she cries. His big hand smooths her dreadlocks down her back.
“Yes, sweetheart,” he soothes. “We can do better. We’ll figure something out for True and you’ll finally tell me what the hell happened to you before you found Blunts.”
“It’s ancient history,” Bren mumbles into his collar, her voice broken.
“Clearly not if it has you tossing and turning all night and baiting your Dom first thing in the morning when you know he’s not at his best before a cup of coffee.” He rubs her back. “It’s going to be okay.”
She fists his sweatshirt and nods into his neck.
“Make me a cup of coffee and then come sit on my lap. I’m going to need you close for a bit.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With a final pat, Mac releases her. As she comes into the kitchen, wiping her eyes, Austin and I sandwich her in a hug. To my surprise, as soon as we release her, Daddy turns from the grill and folds her into a hug, too. Bren doesn’t seek hugs, ever, and since Mac collared her, I’ve seen her sidestep hugs from other Doms. I guess Daddy’s the exception. He’s a good exception to pick; Daddy’s hugs are the best.
We’re just finishing breakfast when the doorbell goes. Daddy checks his phone before he gives me the nod to answer it. At least I know it’s not Miranda.
A crowd of people are at the door. Master Theo, Mistress Maude, Daddy Bravo and Yummy, Charlotte and her gorgeous new master, Ian, Matty and Faolan, Saoirse and her daddy Sutter, and Master Ten. They file in quietly as I take coats and scarves. I get lots of hugs before people filter through into the great room. Finally, I’m just left with Master Ten as he removes his huge boots and sets them in a row with all the other footwear. Geez, I thought Daddy had big feet.
Master Ten turns to me. His eyes are even more red-rimmed and bloodshot than Mr. De Leon’s.
He opens his arms to me.
What am I supposed to do? Master Ten and I are not on hugging terms. Or at least I didn’t think we were. Maybe we are today.
I rush to him and wrap him in a big hug.
Daddy’s hugs are still the best but Master Ten gives surprisingly good hugs. His chest is just the right balance of firm and giving. He squeezes me but not so hard it hurts. He doesn’t crush my face into his pec but lets me find my own place to fit my cheek. He takes a lot of deep, broken breaths while he holds me. I think he might be crying. I don’t lift my head or release him until his breathing’s steady and his arms fall away.
I take his hand and lead him into the great room.
Only to find Daddy in a standoff with Saoirse’s daddy, Sutter. Daddy’s standing and despite the fact that he’s barefoot, bare-chested, and still hasn’t brushed his hair or shaved—or maybe because of it—he looks like a Titan. Daddy’s crossed his arms over his chest and the position makes his shoulders, pecs, and biceps look even bigger. Like, Thor huge. Sutter’s probably only an inch shorter than Daddy. Even though he’s blond, there’s something lithe, twisty, and mischievous about Sutter. Loki-ish.
“Why are you even here?” Daddy growls at Sutter.
“I invited him,” Mr. De Leon says. He hasn’t moved from the dining table. He has Livvy in his lap, propped against his chest. She’s gripping both of his pinkies.
Daddy turns to shoot a death-glare at Mr. De Leon. You’d think Mr. De Leon wouldn’t see it, because he’s looking down at Livvy’s wispy curls but I have a sense that Mr. De Leon sees everything.
He smiles at the top of Livvy’s head.
Sutter shoots out a hand at Daddy and I catch my breath. Daddy does, too. But then he takes Sutter’s hand and shakes it, probably a little too hard if the flexing of Sutter’s back is anything to go by.
“I’d never let my personal vendetta get in the way of giving a submissive the support and protection she needs,” Sutter tells Daddy. “Whatever my feelings about the club, I’m happy to put them aside until Fleur is on the road to recovery and whoever hurt her is neutralized.”
Might just be the writer in me but the way he says “neutralized” sounds an awful lot like “eliminated.”
Master Ten clears his throat and I realize I’ve stopped behind Sutter, ready to tackle him from behind if he’s not nice to my daddy. I glance up at Master Ten. He glances at my free hand, which is balled in a fist. I tuck it against my tummy and blink up at him innocently. Should have worn my cat ears this morning. No one can suspect me of planning to jump on a Dom from behind and batter him about the head for being mean to Daddy when I’m wearing cat ears.
Master Ten chuckles and tugs me forward, around Sutter. Ten hands me to Daddy on the way into the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. He did visit quite a bit when Daddy was first home from being injured, so I guess he remembers where everything is but it’s weird to see him make himself at home in our house when he’s been so antagonistic to Daddy.
I guess we’re all united in a common cause today.