Chapter 13

Oliver stood in the romance section picking out books to highlight on the nearby table. He knew the manager was watching him and probably annoyed at his interference but he’d cut his chops in this store and liked the simple yet complicated job of helping customers find new gems.

“This.” He held up the latest Tessa Dare. “This is well worth the read. You can’t go wrong with this author.”

There was no one around him to argue or agree. It was a slow time on a Sunday, the lull before the storm when the children would come in from church or from lunch with their parents and want a new book while the adults scanned the new arrivals.

Oliver liked coming in at this time to wander the aisles and just be one with the books. It was a hard concept to explain to anyone who didn’t love books, but he enjoyed going through the shelves and seeing what caught his eye.

The fact that he owned all the books, technically, didn’t stop him from strolling up to the counter with usually a half-dozen books to purchase.

He loaded up his arms with his current selection, pleased with himself. Some science fiction romance, some erotic romance and a sprinkling of space opera.

Trying new authors is always a fun experience, he thought.

Might stumble over a gem.

He headed for the near-empty table and began laying them out, eyeing each cover for the best placement. Being right near the front door was the best place to capture new customers as they walked in.

A quick movement out of the corner of his eye froze him in place.

What the—

Roni.

He dropped the stack of books on the table and sprinted toward the door.

She was a good half-block ahead of him, ducking and weaving through the crowd with catlike moves.

“Roni,” Oliver yelled.

She didn’t slow, didn’t turn.

He ran after her, forcing his way through the pedestrians like a runaway train.

“Roni.” The word blew away in the wind battering his face, the stiff breeze slicing between the buildings to slap him back.

He caught up with her a block later and only because she was winded and bent over, spitting on the ground with exhaustion.

Oliver wasn’t far behind. His ribs ached and he struggled to breathe.

“Roni.” The single word brought her up to stare at him, and he saw the fear and the pain in her stare.

What happened to you?

The rage overlaid the concern.

I’ll kill whoever caused this.

Her lower lip quivered, and he pushed the anger aside for another time.

She doesn’t need your fury.

She needs a soft place to fall.

Oliver opened his arms. “Come here.”

She fell into his embrace, sobbing uncontrollably.

It was five minutes before he could convince her to come back to his store and ten before she’d enter his office, insisting she was fine and didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his staff.

He bit the inside of his cheek before answering in a soft but firm tone he’d fire the first person who looked at her sideways. And if he or she didn’t work for him, Oliver would buy the company he or she did work for and then fire them.

That bought him a teary giggle and allowed him to take her inside.

One questioning look from the store manager had Oliver baring his teeth in a snarl.

The manager scurried out of the way.

He walked Veronica into his office and led her to a chair.

“Sit.”

She sniffled and nodded as she settled on the plush leather cushion.

Oliver went to his mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He snapped the lid off and offered it to her.

She waved him away, her hand flapping in the air like a wounded bird’s wing.

“Drink.” He put as much Dom into the voice as he dared, given the situation. “You need it.”

Veronica looked up at him and sniffled before she took the drink. She tipped the bottle to her mouth and took a gulp.

Her strangled sigh ripped at his heart.

Oliver picked up his phone and rang for his driver. “We can’t stay here.”

She coughed on a mouthful of water. “What? What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to my place.” He fixed her with a steely glare. “It’s a safe place where we can both relax. No arguments.”

The annoyance in her look burned down to resignation.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I have to step out and find the manager.” He locked eyes with her. “If I come back and you’re not here, I’ll be very upset. Very. Upset.” His tone left no room for discussion or argument.

Veronica nodded and slumped into the chair.

Oliver moved out of the office and onto the main floor. It took a few minutes to find Derek, the day manager, where he was hiding in the nonfiction section.

“I’m leaving.” He ignored the look of relief. “Unless it’s an emergency, don’t call me.”

He saw the car pull up outside the double doors and returned to the office to get Veronica.

“Car’s here. Let’s go.”

She sniffled, fresh tears breaking free.

Oliver took hold of her arm and helped her stand. “We can’t stay here,” he said softly. “It’s not good.”

“I have to—” She choked on the words. “I need my purse. My café—”

“We’ll stop on the way out.” He rubbed her back as he led her to the door and out onto the store floor. “I’ll have the driver circle around to the coffee shop.”

When they exited the store, it took Oliver a minute to spot the black sedan sitting a few spaces away. He lifted his arm and waved the driver over to the front of the store.

Veronica leaned against him, sniffling.

The car moved up in front of them, and he opened the back door.

“Get in.”

She did so, sliding over to let him sit beside her.

Veronica wiped her face with her sleeves and took another sip of water.

“Around the corner to Java Jive,” he ordered the driver.

The man nodded, and the car began to move.

Oliver put his arm around Veronica and rubbed her arm as they maneuvered through traffic.

There was no use asking any questions right now.

He let out a whistle at the sight of the line of customers waiting to get into the coffee shop.

“Whoa.” He looked at Veronica. “That’s impressive.”

His comment was welcomed by a new burst of tears.

“Here.” He pulled out a handkerchief. “I’ll go get your purse.”

Before she could argue, he was up and out of the car.

The crowd parted in front of him with only a few angry looks, quieted when he turned his gaze on them.

It took him a few minutes to focus in on the barista as the woman he’d seen before. She was busy working what appeared to be three machines at the same time, sweat beading on her forehead as she hustled the specialty coffees to the top counter.

“Excuse me.” He rapped his knuckles on the countertop to get her attention. “I need Veronica’s purse. She’s not feeling well, and I’m taking her home.”

The blonde frowned before lifting her hand in the air. “Dan.”

A tall thin man came out of the back, holding a wrench in one hand.

“He says Veronica’s sick and wants her purse.” She eyed Oliver carefully. “He’s been here before and visited her. I recognize him.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of this.” Dan moved around the counter to stand next to Oliver. “Stay here. I’ll get her purse, and then I’m going to see her for myself.” He hefted the wrench. “I assume we understand each other.”

Oliver allowed himself a smile as the man walked down the hall.

You picked good people, Veronica.

I’d poach them myself, given a chance.

Dan returned a minute later, purse in hand. He had a tight grip on the slender black strap. “I see anything wrong, I’m calling the cops.”

“As you should.” Oliver motioned him toward the door. “She’s out in the car.”

He let Dan move ahead through the crowd.

I don’t want to embarrass you, Roni.

But your staff wants to protect you.

As do I.

The car window rolled down as Dan approached, holding out the black purse.

Veronica leaned out, wearing a forced smile. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Dan glanced back at Oliver. “Are you in any trouble?”

“No. No,” she repeated. “A little upset tummy. Nothing to worry about. I’ll call you later. If I don’t return, lock everything up as usual and drop me an email. The usual routine.” The smile was forced. “You know how this game works. You don’t need me hovering over your shoulder.”

The confident reply convinced her manager. He handed over her purse. “If there’s any problems—”

“Call me or the cops, depending on the situation.” She grinned. “I’m okay, Dan. Now go back to work.”

Dan turned and nodded to Oliver.

Oliver got back in the car.

“You’ve got good people working for you.”

The simple statement sent Veronica off on a new stream of tears as the car moved from the curb.

Oliver pulled her close, confused, curious and more than a little angry.

The weeping woman in his arms bore little resemblance to the strong, independent business owner he’d been dealing with for the past three weeks.

What happened to you?

He bit back the question.

There’d be time enough for answers.

Veronica’s world was collapsing around her. All the work she’d put into Java Jive over the past two years was for nothing, the people she’d surrounded herself with about to suffer for her sin of having a monster for a father.

She wasn’t sure where she had been running to, only that it’d ended in an alley when she couldn’t breathe and her chest ached with the realization she’d failed.

Then Oliver appeared.

Now she was in his car on the way back to his house, gripping a half-empty water bottle so tight she was amazed it hadn’t exploded in her hand and wondering what to do.

Back to his house.

The reality of the sentence slapped her upside the head. “No.” She cleared her throat. “No, thank you. I have to go to my apartment.”

Oliver looked at her, frowning.

“I can’t go home with you. It’s—” She fumbled for some reason, any reason to change their destination.

Because if I do, I’ll be lost.

I can’t enter that world right now.

I can’t.

“It’s against the rules,” Veronica sputtered, searching for a way to explain her confusing emotions.

He stared at her, forehead furrowed with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “My house, my rules. I won’t tell if you won’t.” His tone softened. “But I don’t want to push you any more than you’ve been today.” He reached out and took her hands in his. “Be honest. What do you want to do? Go to my place or go home?”

“I wish—” She couldn’t hold back a sob. “No matter how much I wish to be with you. I want to go home and eat a gallon of ice cream and chocolate and—” She hiccupped. “I have to be in control of something, anything right now. I need—” Veronica stopped.

Shut up before you make more of a fool of yourself.

He smiled in agreement. “Okay.” Oliver leaned forward and dictated her address to the driver. “Give him a few minutes to turn around.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t—”

“I get it. I don’t have to like it. but I get it,” Oliver said. “We’ll be at your place soon enough and get you settled.”

“We?”

“I’m not going to drive you home and dump you on the sidewalk like a bad blind date.” He rubbed the back of her neck. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

She fell silent as the car turned onto a side street and merged back into traffic.

I don’t know.

But I’m glad you’re here.

She couldn’t stop shaking, her inner rage threatening to tear her apart. It was an emotional spinning wheel with the highs of rage and the lows of a kick in the gut shredding her insides.

Oliver kept his arm around her for the entire trip to her place, his body heat burning her leather jacket and warming her chilled skin. He stayed silent but kept her close as if to shield her.

The black sedan slid up to the sidewalk.

“I’ll call you when I need you,” Oliver said to the driver.

Veronica stayed silent as Oliver got out. He looked around before turning and offering his hand to her.

She took it and stepped out.

It wasn’t even noon, and she was emotionally and physically done for the day.

Mr. Anderson wasn’t at his usual post, which made it easier to go upstairs with Oliver, her head now throbbing and about to explode.

“Your keys,” he said. “I’ll get the door.”

She dug in her pocket and came up with the keys, which she handed over.

It only took a few seconds for him to unlock the door and usher her in. He locked the door and placed the keys on the table before starting down the hallway with her in tow.

“Sit.” Oliver led her to the couch and urged her down on the cushions. “You look like crap. I assume you have some headache pills in the bathroom.” He plucked the now-empty water bottle from her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Veronica rubbed her temples in a futile effort to hold back the migraine she felt building.

This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

She winced, her mind already drawing up possible scenarios to make it so.

I have to fire all those people.

Dan. Jane. The staff.

I have to fire them all.

After all the hard work they’ve put in over the past few weeks.

All gone.

“Oh God,” Veronica said. “All gone.”

“What’s all gone? No, wait. Here.” Oliver sat beside her with a glass of water and two pills. “Don’t pass out on me. Take this.” He held out his palm. “Take a deep breath. Don’t choke.”

She swallowed the pills and finished off the water with a noisy gulp and resounding burp.

Wonderful. Now I sound like a drunk bum.

Oliver laughed. “There’s my girl.” He patted her back. “You’ll feel better soon enough.” He hesitated before continuing. “I thought the reopening was going well—when I drove by a few hours ago, there was a great line-up. When I went in to get your purse, it was like an organized flash mob, and your staff looked darned happy, if not harried. Did something happen?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated.” She swiped at her eyes with her jacket sleeve.

“Let me hang that up.” He tugged off the leather jacket, and she was instantly drawn back to their first session, that first inkling of her inner nature.

I can’t think about that.

Not now.

She shivered as he pulled the jacket free. “I’ll be right back.” He walked into the hallway, returning a few seconds later to sit beside her, minus his own leather trench coat.

Veronica sniffled and reached for the nearby tissue box.

Oliver snagged it ahead of her and held it as she yanked out a handful.

Veronica sighed. She’d gone past crying and now was exhausted, angry and mad.

And, strangely enough, hungry.

She dabbed at her cheeks, taking off the last of the makeup so carefully applied only a few hours earlier.

“I don’t mean to pry.” Oliver gave her a sheepish grin. “Okay. I’m lying. I want to pry. I want to know what’s going on, what’s hit you like this. Tell me. Please.” He nudged her and gave a playful wink. “I’ll even pay for the pizza.”

She made a face, mimicking her internal flip-flopping. “It’s not even noon yet.” She could taste the sourness in her mouth from the earlier nausea.

“There’s never a bad time for pizza.” He smiled, and she felt the tension in her shoulders lessen a fraction.

“It’s a long story.” She looked at the empty water glass sitting atop the television guide.

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at listening. I’ll make some coffee if you want,” Oliver offered.

“No. Not yet.” Veronica placed her hands on her knees and forced herself to sit straight. “Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “How much do you know about me?”

“A bit. Okay, a lot.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I researched you. Above and beyond what you’d given to Boots ’n’ Chains for your membership there.”

She smiled. “Make sure you’re not bringing a lunatic into your home?”

“That much I knew.” He looked at her, an intense stare that startled her. “I wanted to be certain I wasn’t going to hit any of your emotional triggers accidentally. It’s good business sense.”

Veronica licked her lips. “Yeah. Good business sense. Not a lot of that going round right now.” She picked up the empty glass and rolled it between her palms. “My father is on the board of directors of SuperSmartMart. I assume you’ve heard of them.”

He chuckled. “I think so.”

“My father—” She paused, sorting her thoughts. “When I graduated from university, he wanted me to come into the fold, manage one of their regional stores. Carry on the family name in a company that was safe, secure. Profitable.”

“But you disagreed,” he offered.

She nodded. “I wanted to build my own career, be my own boss.” She folded the used tissue into a tight square. “I didn’t want to be just another cog in a big machine. I wanted to make something, create something.”

“I can understand that,” Oliver said. “Young, eager. Want to change the world.”

“Exactly.” Veronica tossed the tissue on the table. “I knew I might have the book learning but not the real-world experience. So I went out and got a job—right at the bottom, as low as I could get without starving to death.”

He gave an approving grunt.

“I worked in a few coffee shops, learning the trade. Made my way up to managing one of those shops.” She eyed him. “Working for what I now consider to be the competition.”

He grinned. “Best way to figure out what they’re doing wrong and how to do it right.”

“Exactly. When I figured I’d learned enough, I took my savings and opened up Java Jive after that.” Her stomach growled, and she clasped her hand to it, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Oliver looked over at the small kitchen behind them. “Let me make you something simple. Toast okay? We can get the pizza later.”

Veronica nodded, grateful for the compromise. “Please.”

“Keep talking.” He moved behind her. “I’ll make some weak tea as well. That and the toast should calm your stomach. I know these types of headaches—you get hungry, then nauseous, then hungry again.”

“Okay.” Veronica didn’t want to confess she’d already thrown up once today.

She rubbed her head, wondering how she’d gotten to this place, this point in her life where a rich Dominant was making her tea and toast.

A few more deep breaths had her centered enough so she could tell the story without either smashing her fists into the wall or dissolving into a puddle.

“My father came to visit me today.”

“I assume he’s not your biggest fan,” Oliver said from the kitchen. “Considering you turned down his offer to work alongside him.”

“He’s not. He called last night and said we needed to talk. I told him to meet me at the café.” A wry smile pulled at her lips. “I thought I’d rub our success in his face. Show him I was going to make this work, that Java Jive had a future.”

“Which you do.”

“Which I had until this morning.” She grabbed her knees and dug in her nails. “My father informed me SuperSmartMart plans to buy up the entire city block and put in one of their megastores. It’s part of their big plan and all that.”

“But there are other stores nearby. You have a lease—”

“They’re buying them out—me out. All of us out. Break the leases, toss money at us and knock it all down.” She caught herself, realizing she was shouting.

I don’t need Mr. Anderson to come up and give me a hard time right now.

“Knock it all down,” Veronica repeated in a softer tone.

“You can move—” His voice was weaker, less confident.

He knows the truth.

He’s seen this before. He knows how the game is played.

“I can’t pick up and move. I chose that area because there’s no competition for a few blocks around. Even if I could find a prime location, I can’t make my staff stay. It’ll take weeks to relocate, to get set up again.” She let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m done. Finished.”

Another wave of nausea broke free, and she coughed, forcing herself to hold it in.

“I can’t—”

“Shush,” Oliver said, still in the kitchen. “That’s enough talking for now. Stay quiet and let the headache pills take effect. You need to calm down, and we’ll wrap our heads around this together.”

Veronica stayed silent despite the frantic stampede in her mind.

I can’t—

I need—

“I wish I wasn’t on suspension.” She sighed. “I’d give my left arm to be able to get into Boots ’n’ Chains and relax, just go with you there and—”

The warring factions in her head crashed together.

Do what?

Be a Domme?

Be a submissive?

“I don’t know what I’d do.” She leaned forward and cradled her head with both hands.

But I’d be there with you.

The throbbing intensified, threatening to push her into unconsciousness.

“Here.”

She heard noises in front of her, on the table.

A weight landed beside her on the couch. “Lean on me.”

She allowed Oliver to pull her back and rest her head on his shoulder. The smell of toast hit her senses, and she swallowed hard.

“Weak tea’s here as well. It’ll all hold until you’re ready for it.” Oliver pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Rest.”

Veronica stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” he said softly. “On both fronts.” He stroked her arm. “I was always expected to take over the family business. There was no option given to me, no question about my future. Good thing I liked books.”

She smiled but said nothing.

“My grandfather opened the first to fifth store. My father opened the sixth through to the fifteenth. Before they both died, they made me promise to keep expanding the business. And I have.” He let out something akin to a sigh.

“But it’s hard when real estate prices are so high and our profit margin’s slowly decreasing. I’ve spent a boatload of money on advisors and researchers trying to make Greenwood Books more alluring to the public, but they like to go online and buy their books there. It’s an ongoing battle to draw them into the store with book signings and special events. But it’s all I can do, because I don’t want to fail my father and grandfather. Even though they’re dead and gone, I can see their disapproving looks every time there’s anything less than a decisive win, a profit to show.”

Veronica reached up and patted his hand. “They’d be proud of you.” She looked up at him. “Greenwood Books is one of the best independent stores in the city.”

“Thank you.” He nudged her toward the tea and toast waiting on the table. “Try to eat a little bit. You’ll feel better.”

The headache had subsided to a dull mumbling in her brain, but she forced herself upright. As soon as his arm fell away, she missed it, the sense of safety and security.

The tea was lukewarm and held only a hint of flavor, but it tasted wonderful. She managed a mouthful of crumbling toast, washing it down with the tea.

“Good.” He pulled her back against him. “That’ll help both your headache and the hunger.” His low chuckle rumbled through her. “I’d think you’d be sick of tea and coffee after working with them all day.”

“You’re not sick of reading books,” she retorted.

“Point.” He cleared his throat. “As long as we’re putting all our cards on the table—” His voice trailed off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I was just rambling.”

“No. No,” he repeated, his voice stronger. “I think it’s time to put all our cards on the table. Professionally and personally.” His arm tightened around her. “I suspect you checked into me, my history. Don’t blame you a bit—I did the same, after all. I know Hooded Pleasures do their own background check, but there’s nothing wrong with doing your own research to feel safe.” He chuckled. “Safe, sane, consensual. Right?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, but I was curious.” Veronica shifted on the cushions. “You have to admit, you’re the odd one out, like a unicorn in a herd of zebras. Rich man who doesn’t need the money working for Hooded Pleasures. You’ve already got a club membership, so—” She quieted at seeing his sad expression.

“So why haven’t you seen me there with some sweet young thing? Why am I working for Wendy and spending my weekends with women when I could snap my fingers and have someone at the club with fewer restraints, fewer rules?” Oliver said.

She nodded.

“I told you most of the story before. How I became a Dom.” He paused and chewed his lower lip for a few seconds before continuing. “Melissa was more than just my wife. She was my lover, my submissive, my best friend. We used to go to the club as a couple. After the accident, I went once or twice, but it wasn’t the same.” Oliver grunted. “Most of the people we knew at the club were in a relationship, collared and uncollared. I was a lonely man standing out like a sore thumb. You can guess what it’s like to be a third wheel.” He gave a tired shrug. “And I wasn’t interested in those other options.”

Veronica nodded.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the scene. She’d seen it too many times in college.

Boy breaks up with girl, and both go back to friends who are already hooked up. Boy/girl feels like fifth wheel. Boy/girl goes off and feels miserable not only because they’re alone but because they can’t hang out with friends.

“But—” She took another sip of tea to soothe her throat. “You could have anyone on the floor. Anyone,” she repeated. “All you had to do was ask. No commitment, no promises. Just a good time for the two of you.”

A flare of jealousy broke free at the mental image of Oliver heading off to one of the club’s back rooms with a woman in tow.

Mine.

The thought jolted her like a lightning strike.

What am I thinking?

He’s only mine as long as the contract lasts.

“I know,” he admitted. “I did it a few times to fit in with the crowd. Our friends suggested some of the ladies. Fine women. Wonderful women. I appreciated them, and I hope they did the same of me.” His head dipped down. “But it wasn’t the same.”

“It shouldn’t be,” she argued. “None of them were your wife. You couldn’t duplicate the magic, the love.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “You can’t expect the same.”

Oliver looked at her and smiled. “You’re wise beyond your years. You figured that out by listening to me.” He put his hand atop hers. “It took me a bit of time to realize it for myself. The problem was that it was a part of me I couldn’t put away, couldn’t deny. Then I met Wendy.”

So that’s where she finds employees, Veronica’s internal voice murmured.

Oliver’s stare snapped her back to reality. His frown startled her.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t about charity or me wanting to get my rocks off.” He squeezed her hand. “If you’ve learned anything over the past few sessions, you know it’s more than just the physical.”

She nodded, unable to find the words.

“HP offered me a sort of therapy, a way to help myself while helping others. I could satisfy my dominant side while helping women to realize their inner beauty, the submissive side of themselves. They only needed direction, a way to navigate through their emotions to realize there’s nothing weak about being a submissive, that a submissive is, in a way, the more powerful one in a relationship.” He stroked the top of her hand. “I’ve been trying to explain that to you throughout all our visits. I hope it took.”

“It took.” She sighed. “Even though I’m a little thickheaded.”

Oliver gave a knowing nod. “Sometimes it takes a bit of time to sink in.” He reached for his own cup of cold tea. “I’m glad I was the one to help you out.”

“Yes. Thank you.” She rubbed her forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. Worst. Day. Ever.”

Oliver chuckled as he pulled her close to him. “I’d like to think I’m making it a bit better.” He stroked her hair. “You should go lie down for a bit now that you’ve got something in your stomach. Let things settle in your mind and body. Do you still have the headache?”

It’d diminished slightly but was there. “Not much of one now,” she confessed. “Sort of an annoying hangnail.” She smiled at his confused expression. “When you have a hangnail, you keep snagging it on everything even as you’re trying to avoid it. That sort of headache—as long as I don’t focus on it, it’s not too bad. Think about it, and it’s taking over my brain.”

“As long as you’re feeling better.” He rose and stretched out his hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Veronica had enough strength left to arch one eyebrow.

Oliver laughed. “Yes. This is all part of my diabolical plan to finally get you into bed and have my way with you. Because there’s nothing sexier than a woman who’s been crying, obviously upset, and with a headache.” He smacked his lips. “Nothing sexier.”

She felt her cheeks burn because of her previous fantasies about the two of them in bed.

“When you put it that way—” Veronica took his hand and pushed herself upright. “Thank you for all your help.” She wobbled for a second, and he jumped forward to catch her.

“Whoa there. Definitely time for a lie-down.” His tone left no room for discussion.

Oliver led her to the bedroom. “When you’re feeling better, we’ll talk more about cabbages and kings.” He gave her a sly wink.

The reference to their first meeting warmed her heart even as she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed fully dressed.

Oliver tucked the blankets in around her. “I’ll be outside. If you need anything, just sing out.”

“I’ve got cable,” she mumbled, the exhaustion beginning to take hold. “Help yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Sleep.”

The command rolled over her like a wave and pulled her under.

“Yes, Sir.”