Chapter 9
SIMONE
The shower runs hot enough to turn my skin pink, but it doesn't wash away what happened tonight.
The scene at Dominion. The way Luc made me feel things I've spent years pretending I didn't need.
The surveillance camera capturing—I don't even know how much.
They found it at the end. Did it record the entire scene? Just part of it?
My hands shake as I work shampoo through my hair. The water streams down, and I focus on the physical sensation—heat, pressure, the clean scent of soap. Grounding myself in something concrete instead of spiraling into panic about what happens next.
The emergency board session. I'll be standing in front of executives who've questioned my leadership for years, defending myself against what I know will be Armand's motion to remove me as CEO, asking them to trust that I can still run the company while someone's using my private life as ammunition.
Henry will stand beside me. That helps. His support carries weight with the old guard, the members who remember building LaCroix Petroleum with my father. But there will be questions. Judgment. Speculation about whether this makes me a liability.
I turn off the water, towel dry with movements that feel mechanical. My reflection in the mirror shows someone who looks put together—hair damp but styled, skin clean, expression controlled. The CEO mask is firmly in place.
I turn, checking over my shoulder. The marks from the flogger are still visible across my ass—pink welts from the lighter strikes, deeper color where he hit harder. Part of me expects to feel ashamed. Violated. Like these marks are proof of weakness.
Instead, heat pools low in my belly. These aren't weakness. They're evidence of the strength it took to finally let go. To stop performing and actually surrender. The same strength I'll need when I walk into that boardroom and face down executives who've been waiting years for me to fail.
Luc marked me. Claimed me. Made me feel things I've spent years pretending I didn't need.
Except I can still feel his hands on me, the rope around my wrists, the blindfold stealing my sight, the way he fucked me like he owned me, like my body was his to use however he wanted.
And I loved it—every second, the surrender, the helplessness, the complete absence of control.
It should terrify me more than the stalker. But it doesn't. There's a strange comfort in knowing someone else can take control when I need it. That I don't have to carry everything alone.
I pull on silk pajamas and head downstairs. The guest house is quiet. Luc's probably coordinating with his team, tracking Julien's location.
Except when I reach the bottom of the stairs, Remy's there instead.
"Simone." He straightens from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. "Luc had to step out. I'm here until he gets back."
My throat tightens. "What happened?"
"Julien's phone pinged at your building. LaCroix Petroleum headquarters." His tone stays carefully neutral. "Luc's checking it out."
"He went alone?"
"He has backup. Andy's meeting him there." Remy moves to the security panel, checks the feeds. "You're safe here. Perimeter's locked down, cameras active, I'm not going anywhere."
I sink into a chair at the kitchen table. Julien's at my building right now, after planting a camera at Dominion, after being identified on facial recognition. He should be running, hiding, trying to avoid detection.
Unless he wants to be found.
Cold slides down my spine. "This is a trap."
Remy's gaze sharpens. "Explain."
"Julien's smart. Strategic. He's settled multiple stalking cases out of court with NDAs.
Avoided criminal charges despite documented obsessive behavior.
" I stand, pace to the window, then remember the email threat and step back.
"Someone that careful doesn't suddenly fuck up.
He wanted us to find that camera. Wanted us to trace the signal to the warehouse.
And now he's at my building, phone signal active, making sure we know exactly where he is. "
"Drawing Luc away from you."
Luc's at my building chasing Julien. I'm here with Remy. We're separated, vulnerable in ways that have nothing to do with physical security.
"We need to call him back," I say.
Remy's already pulling out his phone. The call connects but goes to voicemail. He tries again. Same result.
"He's not answering." Remy's voice stays level, but his posture shifts—alert, assessing. "Could be operational silence. Could be signal interference in your building."
"Or he's walking into exactly what Julien wanted."
Remy texts rapidly. Waits for response. Nothing comes through.
"I'm calling Andy." He dials, and this time someone picks up. "Andy. Luc's not responding. What's your status?" A pause. "Copy that. Keep trying him. And don't let him go in alone."
The call ends. Remy turns to me. "Andy's a few minutes out. Building security confirmed Luc's entry via keycard at the executive elevator a couple minutes ago. No check-in since."
That's long enough for anything to happen.
"You think this is the real attack," I say quietly. "Not surveillance. Not psychological warfare. Physical action."
"I think someone smart enough to run this operation wouldn't leave loose ends." His jaw sets. "And Luc going after Julien alone makes him a loose end."
My pulse hammers. This is my fault. If I hadn't needed protection, Luc wouldn't be walking into a trap. If I'd been stronger, braver, less of a liability—
"Stop." Remy's voice cuts through the spiral. "Whatever you're thinking right now—stop. This isn't your fault. Julien made choices. Your uncle made choices. Luc made the tactical decision to pursue a lead. None of that's on you."
"He's there because of me."
"He's there because that's his job. One he's very good at." Remy's phone buzzes. He reads the screen, and his face goes white. "Andy just entered the building. Luc's still not responding to comms. GPS shows him stationary on the executive floor."
He's stationary. Not moving.
"We need to go there," I say.
"No." Remy's tone leaves no room for argument. "You stay here. Secured location. That's protocol."
"Fuck protocol." The words come out sharper than intended. "If this is a trap to separate us, then staying here makes me the target they're actually after."
"You don't make tactical calls." Remy's voice goes flat. Hard. "That's not how this works. You're the asset. I'm the operative. I decide how to keep you alive."
"But—"
"No." He cuts me off. "You think I haven't already run every scenario? You think I'm not calculating risk right now?" His eyes narrow. "Luc went after a lead because that's the job. You don't get to second-guess operational decisions or tell me how to protect you."
The rebuke lands like a slap. He's right. I'm doing exactly what I always do—trying to seize control when I don't have it.
"Luc is my Dom," I say quietly. "Not you. And no one comes between a Dom and his sub."
"True." Remy's expression doesn't change. "But that doesn't always play out in the real world. Especially when the Dom in question is my little brother and the sub in question is someone he cares about."
The words hit harder than they should. Someone he cares about. Not just protects. Cares about.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
Remy studies me for a long moment. "If you're smart enough to run LaCroix Petroleum, you're smart enough to figure out Luc." He turns back to the security panel. "Now. You think they wanted Luc out of position?"
"Yes."
He's silent, jaw working. Then he pulls out his phone, texts rapidly.
"Calling in another team. Backup operatives en route to secure the guest house and keep it safe. We leave when they arrive. A few minutes."
Relief makes my knees weak. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." He's already moving through the guest house, checking exits, verifying locks. "If this goes wrong, Luc's going to kill me for taking you into potential danger."
"If we stay here and something happens, I'll kill you myself."
The corner of his mouth lifts. "Fair enough."
I take the stairs two at a time, change fast—jeans, boots, dark jacket. Practical clothes instead of silk pajamas. If we're walking into danger, not doing it defenseless.
By the time I'm back down, the backup team is positioning themselves inside the guest house. Remy briefs them with practiced efficiency—maintain perimeter, no one enters, report any movement immediately.
We're moving. Remy guides me to the armored SUV with the same certainty Luc showed earlier tonight. I climb into the back seat. Remy takes the driver's position.
"Stay low," he instructs. "We're taking side streets, avoiding main routes. Andy's coordinating with NOPD for backup at your building."
The SUV pulls out of the estate. The guest house disappears through the rear window, lit and secure. But empty of the one person I need to know is safe.
The drive through New Orleans feels surreal. Late-night streets, closed businesses, the occasional bar still lit with patrons spilling onto sidewalks. Normal city life continuing while racing toward my building where Luc might be walking into an ambush.
Remy's phone buzzes. He answers via hands-free. "Report."
Andy's voice fills the vehicle. "Luc's still not responding. I'm on the executive floor now. His GPS shows him in or near Simone's office."
My office. Julien lured Luc to my office specifically.
"Any sign of Julien?" Remy asks.
"Negative. His phone signal went dark right after Luc's GPS stopped moving."
"Fuck." Remy accelerates slightly. "We're a few minutes out. NOPD backup?"
"Staging two blocks away. Waiting for your signal."
"Hold position until we assess." Remy ends the call, glances at me in the rearview mirror. "When we get there, you stay in the vehicle with one of Andy's team until I clear the floor. Non-negotiable."
"Understood."