Chapter 21 Emma
Chapter twenty-one
Emma
Damien stiffened beside me.
The reaction was subtle—a slight tightening of his jaw, a fraction more pressure from his hand at my back—but I felt it like a tremor through bedrock. He hadn't expected her to say that. Or maybe he had, and he'd hoped she wouldn't.
Either way, the words hung in the air between us.
One of Damien's old submissives. Not just an old friend.
Not just someone from his past. Someone who had felt his hands on her skin.
Who had worn a collar like mine. Who knew what it felt like to surrender to him—to be owned by him—long before I existed in his world.
Jealousy and insecurity tangled tight and ugly.
"It's nice to meet you," I said.
The words came out flat. Frigid. Polite in name only—the corporate smile I'd perfected in boardrooms full of men who underestimated me.
Vivian's eyebrows rose a fraction. Her gaze flicked to Damien, a look passing between them, before returning to me with renewed interest.
"She's got fire," Vivian said, a note of approval threading through her voice. "I like that."
"Viv." Todd's tone carried a gentle warning.
"What? I'm being nice." She released my hand, stepping back into Todd's embrace. "I'm just saying—Damien always did have a type."
I raised a brow. "A type?"
"Strong women." Vivian shrugged, utterly unbothered by the ice radiating off me. "The ones who fight back. Who make him earn it." Her smile softened into something almost genuine. "It's a compliment, Emma. Trust me."
Her tone—the warmth beneath the teasing—let my shoulders drop. Slightly.
"Vivian and I ended things over five years ago," Damien said, his thumb tracing a reassuring circle against my lower back. "Ancient history."
"Very ancient," Todd agreed, pulling Vivian closer. "She's been terrorizing me ever since."
"Terrorizing is a strong word." Vivian tilted her head up at him, batting her lashes. "I prefer 'keeping you on your toes.'"
"Same thing," he muttered, but his gaze was soft.
I watched them—the easy intimacy, the way they leaned into each other like magnets finding their poles—and something clicked.
The collar.
There, nestled against Vivian's throat, half-hidden by the tumble of red hair: a delicate gold chain with a small ruby pendant. Elegant. Beautiful.
Owned.
Not by Damien. By Todd.
My jealousy drained away, replaced by embarrassment. She wasn't competition. She wasn't a threat. She was someone who understood. Someone who had walked this path before me and found her own destination.
"Sorry," I breathed, shaking my head. "I didn't realize—I didn't see your collar at first."
Vivian's expression softened. "It's okay. I would have reacted the same way." She reached up, fingers brushing the ruby at her throat. "Todd collared me three years ago. Best decision I ever made was letting Damien go so I could find him."
"They're a much better fit than we ever were," Damien said, and there was no bitterness in it—simple fact. "Vivian needs something I couldn't give her."
"Wouldn't," Vivian corrected, but she was smiling. "He wouldn't give me what I needed. Too progressive for his own good."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a traditional girl, Emma." She smoothed a hand down her corset, preening slightly.
"I like the 1950s housewife dynamic. Cooking.
Cleaning. Waiting at the door with a drink when my man comes home.
" Her eyes sparkled. "Todd keeps me barefoot and busy.
I have a chore list every day. If the house isn't spotless when he gets back from work.
.." She trailed off with a delicate shudder that was clearly more anticipation than fear.
"I punish her," Todd supplied helpfully, smoothing a hand over the top of Viv's head. "Which she loves."
"I do," Vivian agreed without a shred of shame. "It gives me purpose. Structure. I know exactly what's expected of me, and I know exactly what happens if I fail." She sighed contentedly. "It's perfect."
I stared at her, trying to reconcile this gorgeous, confident woman with the image of a kept housewife scrubbing floors.
"That wasn't what you wanted?" I asked Damien, voice low.
"No." His hand pressed firmly against my back.
The single word carried weight. Certainty. Conviction. No explanation needed. No justification offered.
I turned back to Vivian, hesitating for a moment before the words slipped out.
"I'm new to all of this," I admitted. "Like... very new."
The confession left me exposed.
But Vivian's expression didn't shift to judgment or condescension. Instead, her smile warmed.
"We all were at some point, honey." She waved a dismissive hand. "It's quite a learning curve. But you'll get there."
Todd glanced between me and Vivian, a question moving behind his eyes.
"Why don't you two talk for a bit?" he suggested. "Submissive to submissive." He clapped a hand on Damien's shoulder. "This one and I have some catching up to do anyway. It's been too long."
Damien's gaze found mine, a silent question in it. Is this okay?
I hesitated. The thought of being left alone with Vivian unsettled me.
But beneath that, curiosity stirred. The same curiosity that had driven me through the velvet curtains, past the play room, into this strange and beautiful world.
She understood things I was only beginning to grasp. She'd walked this path years before me. And Damien had brought me here hoping I'd find exactly this—someone to talk to. Someone who got it.
"Okay," I heard myself say.
Damien leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I'll be in the lounge if you need me," he murmured against my hair.
Then he was gone, following Todd back through the heavy curtain.
Vivian watched them go, then turned to me with a conspiratorial smile.
"Come on." She looped her arm through mine like we were old friends. "Let's get you a cup of tea and have a proper chat."
Vivian led me back through the velvet curtains, past the lounge with its pink corner and tangled couples, until we reached the snack room. The birthday cake had been cut into—a large slice missing from Derek's name—and someone had refilled the brownie container.
"Tea?" Vivian asked, already reaching for the dispenser.
"Please. Green tea with lemon, if they have it."
"They have everything." She plucked a mug from the stack and set about preparing it with practiced efficiency. A tea bag from a labeled jar. Hot water from a second dispenser. A slice of lemon from a small refrigerated tray I hadn't noticed before.
When she turned back to me, she held the mug with both hands, extending it toward me with a small dip of her head. A slow graceful gesture.
I took the cup, brow furrowing.
When Vivian finally looked up, she blinked, then laughed—bright and genuine.
"Sorry. Habit." She waved a hand dismissively, grabbing her own mug and filling it with something that smelled like chamomile.
"Todd likes me to serve him a certain way.
Both hands, eyes down, the whole routine.
" She shrugged. "After three years, it's just..
. automatic. Giving, receiving—doesn't matter.
My hands do it before my brain catches up. "
"Even with strangers?"
"Especially with strangers." She grinned, settling onto one of the stools tucked against the counter.
"Last week a barista handed me my latte and I accepted it like she was presenting me with a sacred offering.
Both hands cupped around it, eyes down, the whole thing.
" A laugh bubbled out of her. "The poor girl just stared at me. Todd almost choked on his espresso."
We carried our tea back through the curtain and into the lounge. The warmth of the mug seeped into my palms, steadying me as I scanned the room.
Damien was exactly where he said he'd be—settled into an armchair near the far wall, Todd leaning forward in the seat across from him. They were deep in conversation, but as if sensing my attention, Damien's head turned.
Our gazes met across the room.
A tether pulled tight between us. He was still there. Still mine.
"This way," Vivian said, tugging gently at my elbow. She steered me toward a pair of overstuffed chairs angled near the pink corner—close enough to hear the soft giggles of the women braiding each other's hair, far enough to have privacy.
I chose the chair facing outward. The one that kept Damien in my line of sight.
He noticed. Of course he did.
A small smile curved his lips before he turned back to Todd.
Vivian settled into the chair beside me, tucking her legs beneath her like a cat. "You two are adorable, you know that?"
A flush climbed my neck. "What do you mean?"
"The way you watch each other." She sipped her tea, gaze sparkling over the rim. "Like you're afraid the other might disappear if you look away too long." She set the mug down, expression softening. "He never looked at me like that, for the record. Not once."
I ducked my head, lifting the mug to my lips. The tea scalded my tongue—bitter lemon and heat. I winced, blinking back moisture, but it gave me something to blame for the flush spreading across my face.
"Careful," Vivian said, amused. "It's hot."
"Thanks for the warning," I managed, voice slightly hoarse.
She laughed softly, then set her own mug aside, angling her body toward me. The playfulness in her expression faded into something more sincere.
"So." She folded her hands in her lap. "Is there anything you want to know?
About any of this?" She gestured vaguely at the room around us.
"I'm an open book, Emma. Ask me anything—the lifestyle, the dynamic, the community.
Whatever's rattling around in that head of yours.
" A small smile. "I remember how overwhelming it was at the beginning.
Having someone to talk to would have made it a lot easier. "