Chapter 1

“You can’t ban me.” Veronica Locksley crossed her arms over her chest, hoping the gesture would hide her shaking hands. “I’m a full-fledged member. I pay my dues.”

She’d come into Boots ’n’ Chains for a usual Saturday night of fun—pick out one of the handsome young submissives at the bar or on the dance floor and give him the time of his life.

Instead, a few minutes after arrival, she had been directed by Jackie, the assistant manager and gatekeeper, to go straight to the manager’s office.

Do not pass go, do not collect any subs and go straight to jail.

Or worse.

“You’re a liability.” Matthew Beck sat behind his desk. It was empty of everything other than a single file folder flipped open to show a stack of sheets at least a half-inch thick.

She didn’t have to ask what they were, because she had a pretty good guess.

Complaints.

Against her.

Matthew stroked his jet-black goatee, glaring at her. “I’ve given you warnings. Suspensions. More than I should have. If this were any other establishment, you’d have been blackballed long before now.” He raised one eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, we’re the last club in town you haven’t been banned from.”

Time to turn on the charm.

She smiled and leaned on the edge of the desk. “That’s because you’re wiser than those other managers.” She gestured at the papers. “You know most of those complaints come from whiny little boys who don’t understand what it means to be a submissive. They want to play games, and when I call them out—”

“No.” The stern tone startled her into silence, cutting off her explanation.

He stood, and Veronica had to hold herself in place, instinctively wanting to step back. Suddenly the small office seemed much, much smaller, mentally returning her to the principal’s office when she was caught smoking in the girls’ washroom.

Matthew was a tall man with broad shoulders, and impeccably dressed. The white shirt hung open enough to display the thin chain around his neck.

His collar.

His eyes narrowed as he saw her studying the silver links. “Do not mistake my preferences for a weakness,” he growled. “I may be a sub, but I’m not yours. I’m the manager, and I’m responsible for keeping everyone safe and sound when they come here. I know that those men you took into the back rooms knew damned well what they wanted.” A flash of anger in his eyes startled her, rattled her already-raw nerves. “You abused their trust.”

Veronica made a dismissive wave of her hand, trying to strengthen her argument. “I left them with a few bruises, if that. Nothing that won’t heal with time.” She felt the weakness in her words, the argument already lost. “They all agreed to go with me. I never took anyone against his will.”

“Yes. That’s true,” Matthew conceded. He sat down and reached for his half-full coffee cup. “Consent isn’t the issue here. Your continued aggression is the problem. This crap can’t go on. This last complaint coming so soon after your public fight with Kate—”

Bitch.

Veronica held her tongue, knowing it’d go worse for her if she said it out loud. Kate Dubois was one of Boots ’n’ Chains’ favorite Dommes, having just returned from a self-imposed exile to a glorious debut with her new submissive, Alex Hanson.

A lovely man she’d tried and failed to seduce on his first trip to the club, the puppy retreating as Kate came forth out of the shadows to claim him. A damned idiot who had no idea what Veronica could give him and instead tucked his tail between his legs and ran.

Right to Kate.

The curses died in her throat.

Badmouthing Kate and Alex wasn’t going to win any points.

“I can’t have you scaring off new members or pissing off the regulars.” Matthew jabbed at the file folder. “I’ve already put you on probation more than anyone else in the club. At this point, you’re damaging our reputation and affecting our business.”

Veronica swallowed hard, feeling the nervous burn in her belly.

She knew business.

She knew what a good employer had to do keep the company going.

But she didn’t have to like it or agree to it.

Don’t ban me.

You can’t ban me.

The plea stalled in her throat.

Don’t beg.

It’s too late for that.

A cold flush of fear shot through her veins at the idea of being tossed out of Boots ’n’ Chains.

She settled herself on the chair, the cold wooden seat chilling her skin.

Matthew entwined his fingers and laid his hands on the desk. “I’ve spoken to the other managers at the clubs you’ve been banned from. They won’t have you back for the same reasons we’re discussing here.” He stared at her. “So what should I do? Warning you doesn’t work. Suspending you doesn’t work. It hasn’t worked at any of the other clubs, and we’re now in the same place you were with them. So I’m forced to consider their final response to your continued infractions. Permanent banishment from this establishment.”

Her tongue went numb, the thickness filling her mouth.

What can I tell you—

She ran through all her excuses and found all of them wanting.

Matthew must have sensed her discomfort, because he kept on talking. “Strangely enough, you’ve already given me the answer. I realized it when I thought of your run-in with Kate and Alex.” The thoughtful smile didn’t alleviate her growing sense of trepidation.

He put his hands together as if in prayer. “I can’t have an abusive Domme in my club. It’s dangerous and goes against everything I stand for, everything this community stands for. Safe, sane, consensual. Remember that?” His gaze softened, and she saw the sub in him, the caring male that some lucky woman had caught and collared. “But I’m not going to throw you out like all the others have. I’m going to give you one last chance to figure out what your problem is, why you keep going over the edge.” He tapped the folder. “I have a contract in here for Hooded Pleasures.”

Veronica frowned. “The agency?”

“Yes. What do you know about them?” Matthew asked. “I assume you’ve picked up information here and there.”

She cleared her throat, more secure answering the simple question. “A private company. Some of their employees are members here and elsewhere, all Dominants. They deliver home services for those men and women who won’t or can’t come to the clubs.” She couldn’t help smirking. “For those too cowardly to come out and play.”

The softness disappeared. “For those who won’t or can’t,” he rephrased her last sentence.

Matthew rose again, towering over her. “Policemen. Judges. Lawyers. For those who can’t afford to be seen in a club, for whom exposure could destroy their lives.” He pointed at her. “You and I can afford the luxury of being who we are without suffering much other than a few nasty words and whispers behind our backs. Maybe a disapproving look here and there. The worst for most of us is that we don’t get invited over for dinner or cut off the Christmas card list.”

Matthew jabbed a thumb at the wall. “There are people out there who have to close off this part of themselves for fear of being exploited, blackmailed. Whether it’s because of their employment or their heritage, they can’t come out of the shadows and enjoy a simple night at the club. They are the ones Hooded Pleasures deals with.” He ran his fingers over the folder. “Sometimes it’s not that complicated. Sometimes it’s dealing with those who are too timid to come out to a new members’ night because they’re not sure if it’s what they want. So they pay for someone to come to their homes and learn in private what it’s like to be a submissive, what their inner nature is crying out for. Usually they migrate to the clubs and come into our society better off for their time with HP.”

“Like Alex,” Veronica said, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible.

She’d picked up the back story between Kate and Alex after she’d served her last suspension and returned.

“Like Alex,” Matthew repeated. “And that’s what gave me this idea.” His gaze fixed her like a specimen on a slide. “Effective immediately, you are indefinitely suspended from Boots ’n’ Chains.”

Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed instinctively, not wanting to throw up.

No.

You can’t—

“But I’m giving you a choice. You can either accept your banishment, or you can agree to take sessions from a Hooded Pleasures employee. A Dom who knows what he’s doing.” Matthew locked eyes with her. “He’ll come to your home and teach you what being a Domme is all about.”

Veronica frowned. “I don’t understand. How is he going to teach me? Does he have a private submissive or—”

Matthew shook his head. “You’re going to learn by being his submissive for six two-hour visits.”

She rocked back in her chair as if he’d punched her.

“No. No way. I’m no sub.” She spat the words out like poison.

“I didn’t say you were or weren’t. But you’ve got problems dealing with them, and this is the only way I can think of that’ll make you more sympathetic to their needs, to their desires.” He spread his hands. “Maybe this is all about you not being where you want to be, being who you truly are. I don’t know. I’m no psychologist and don’t want to be. But I know one thing about submissives—you don’t appreciate them.” He glared at her. “You don’t appreciate the love and the responsibility given to you. You don’t understand the gift a sub bestows on the dominant partner. Maybe if you see how it is from the other side you’ll get what being a good Domme is all about. Or maybe find out who you truly are inside.” A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Maybe there’s a bit more submissive inside you than you want to admit.”

She wanted to reach over and slap him.

Ridiculous.

What the hell does this guy know about me? Nothing.

Other than my checks don’t bounce when I pay that extravagant membership fee.

Veronica shook her head. “Even if I agreed to this stupid game, I can’t afford their rates. And I doubt they’re going to give over one of Wendy’s boy toys for free.”

“She’s not. We’re paying. Consider it part of your membership fees going to a good cause.” Matthew moved around the desk to stand in front of her. “No one will know other than the two of us, Wendy and the Dom she chooses. That’s why they come to your house, after all. Total confidentiality. Your absence from the club, if it’s noticed, will be seen as just another suspension. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” His voice softened. “You’re a good woman Veronica. I like you. Others like you. I see the good in you, the beautiful woman under the anger. But you don’t seem to understand the responsibility a Domme has—the unspoken contract between a Dominant and a submissive. Maybe this will help you figure this out. Maybe it won’t. But I feel I have to try this one last option before I close these doors to you forever.” He touched the thin chain around his neck. “You deserve to be happy. Let me do this for you.”

Veronica couldn’t find her voice, his sudden gentleness cutting through her carefully crafted emotional armor like a virtual samurai sword.

“Here.” He opened the folder and placed it front of her. “Please sign at the bottom. I’ll pass this onto them along with your file here at the club as to your hard limits, likes and dislikes. They’ll be in touch.” Matthew plucked a pen from the stack filling the generic white mug on the desk and placed it atop the pages.

He stood back and waited.

Veronica picked up the pen and scribbled her name on the line, forcing herself to stay calm.

This is madness. Sheer madness.

But I’ve got no choice.

“O-Okay,” she stammered. “But I reserve the right to walk out at any time.”

He nodded. “Of course. You’ll be held to the same rules as any HP client. You can cancel the contract whenever you want. But if you do before the sessions are over or the HP Dom approves your return, the club doors will be permanently closed to you.” Matthew shook his head. “I can’t risk the mental and physical health of my members. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll take this gift and become a better woman and a better Domme for it.” He reached out and touched the gold bracelet she wore on her left wrist, indicating her Dominant status in the club. “If that’s what you find out you truly are.”

Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers slipped under the thin metal.

I’m a Domme.

What else could I be?

A quick twist and the bracelet was off, leaving an empty space both on her skin and in her heart.

He walked back around his desk before opening a drawer and dropping the simple gold band inside. “When you’ve been approved by Hooded Pleasures, you can have it back. All he needs to do is notify HP that he’s done educating you and they’ll let me know.” Matthew eyed her. “Or you can have a silver one.” He smiled. “Being a submissive isn’t that bad. I hope you’ll come to appreciate that.”

She didn’t know what to say in response, so she nodded.

What the hell am I getting myself into?

He gestured at the door. “Thank you. You’ll have to leave now. I’ll escort you to the locker room and then outside.”

She followed him in stunned silence. Matthew stayed with her as she picked up her coat and purse and walked out to the street where the doormen waited.

“Please call a taxi for Ms. Locksley,” he said to one man. “Veronica won’t be back for a little while.”

They nodded, familiar with the routine.

Veronica felt her cheeks burn with the embarrassment of being walked out of the club.

Again.

Okay, she told herself. All I have to do is get the guy to sign off on this crazy scheme, and I’ll be back.

She straightened up, mentally steeling herself for the upcoming battle.

Easy peasy. Either he’ll want to get rid of me as soon as possible, or he’ll see it my way.

Matthew touched her shoulder as the car pulled up. “I hope to see you soon.”

She resisted the urge to grin.

Sooner than you might think.

Veronica nodded and got into the cab without looking back.

Oliver Greenwood paced around the meeting room, circling the expensive rosewood table clockwise first, then counterclockwise.

The phone call had been delightfully vague—enough to tease his curiosity and bring him downtown on a Sunday morning.

Please come to the office.

Wendy would like to see you.

When one of the two owners of Hooded Pleasures asked you to come in, you usually came in.

Unless you never wanted to work for them again.

The door opened, and Wendy McMaster walked in. The plus-sized woman wore a sharp-looking black blazer and matching pants, the pale pink blouse a lovely counter to the darkness. She carried a dark blue file folder.

“Oliver.” She reached out and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming in. I appreciate it.” She gestured at one of the plush dark leather chairs. “Please sit. Can I offer you some coffee?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He adjusted his tie as he settled into the chair. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance. I came straight from work.”

“No problem.” Wendy looked him over and smiled. “You always look good in a suit and tie.” She frowned. “Early event? It’s only nine in the morning.”

“No rest for the weary, especially when the store’s open twenty-four hours a day. We’ve got an author signing today. New release going out.” He smiled. “Nora Roberts. I can get you an autographed copy if you’d like.”

Given the excitement in her eyes, he knew she would.

Mentally he made a note to courier one over as soon as he finished up here.

“Maybe, you know—if you can spare a copy.” She looked down at the file and cleared her throat, ending the social aspect of their meeting. “I called you in today because I wanted to talk to you about a special case.”

Oliver pursed his lips. “I’ve already got two clients. And I’m very happy with them.”

“And they are thrilled with you,” Wendy said. “Charlotte especially, given she keeps dropping you tips.”

“She’s come a long way from when we started. I’d say she’s about ready to graduate to going to a club.” He smiled as he brought up her image in his mind’s eye.

The busty redhead had been a lovely surprise to work with, her early inhibitions giving way to an enthusiastic woman any Dom would be proud to collar.

Oliver cleared his throat, banishing the vision. “I think she’ll be moving on within the month. She’s at the point where she’s considering where to tender her membership.”

“Linda’s close to leaving as well.” Wendy opened up the folder. “She called earlier this week and said she’s moving to New York. We’re going to provide her with references to some good clubs and private Doms.” She looked up. “Sorry.”

“Nothing for any of us to be sorry for. It’s a great opportunity for her, and I’m glad she’s taking it,” Oliver said. “She got a promotion at her firm, up to the big leagues, which is why she’s moving. I’m glad for her—she’s worked hard for it.” He recalled the slender lawyer who was a terror in her office on the clock and a lovely submissive on her knees after hours.

“And that leaves you with no one.” Wendy leaned back in the chair.

“I’m not—” He paused. “I was thinking of leaving HP once my current roster was finished.”

“I see.” She closed the folder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Oliver said. “I’ve enjoyed working here, helping people. But I believe I’m ready to go back to the clubs and start socializing again.”

Melissa.

He felt the familiar pinch in his heart, in his soul. Three years, and it still felt like yesterday.

Wendy paused for a few seconds before speaking. “Are you sure? You know we’re not going to push you out of the nest if you’re not ready.”

Oliver couldn’t help smiling at the mental image. “I’m ready to fly again. Mel—” He looked down at the finger where his wedding band used to sit. “I’ll always miss her.”

The sigh came without warning, pushing the breath from his lungs.

Always.

“We talked about this sort of thing once. Years ago when we made up our wills, discussing who would get what and all that stuff. She told me if anything happened to her to grieve her passing and then move on. I told her if I died, I’d want her to enter a convent.” He chuckled at the memory.

Wendy smiled. “Evan and I have that conversation about once a month usually when I’m annoyed at him. But then I realize how hard it’d be to train a new husband and—” She gave an exaggerated eye roll.

Oliver nodded. “I didn’t think anything of our chat until—” He waved his hand in the air. “It’s been a few years, and I think it’s time for me to start living again. I’ll probably start with visiting the clubs once a week and sitting at the bar, getting up to speed.”

Small steps.

It’ll be hard going back alone—but it’s time.

“Don’t worry about catching up on gossip. You’ll be fine. It’s not the years, it’s the mileage.” Wendy nodded. “I’m glad we were able to help you through a rough patch.” She put her palm down on the folder. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you going to look for a permanent partner or just a ‘friend’? I can help you with either choice—I’m at Boots ’n’ Chains two times a week, if not more. Give you some references and maybe set you up, if you’d like.”

Oliver pressed his lips into a tight line, considering his answer. “I’m not interested in just casual sex.” He swept his hand over the table. “I know I can go into any club and find a woman, put her on her knees and give her pleasure while taking my own. But I don’t want that. I want to find a woman who can stand on her own when she needs to and can kneel to me when she wants to. That’ll have to be inside and outside of the club atmosphere.” He smiled, hearing his own words. “But that’s for the future. I guess it sounds pretty complicated.”

Wendy laughed. “I find life generally is.”

“Let me get back to you on the referrals. I’m not much on blind dates.” His attention went to the folder, his curiosity piqued. “But that’s not why you called.”

Wendy pushed the dark blue folder around with one finger. “We have a new client. A Domme who needs a bit of training.”

Oliver frowned. “I’d think you could do that here. The classes are very thorough.”

He’d attended a few at the start of his employment and had learned a few new tricks. The small classes allowed discussion and practice, something he’d enjoyed.

“True. But this is a bit different. She doesn’t need any more instruction on being a Domme. She’s been reprimanded for abusing her submissives. Repeatedly.”

“Then she should be tossed out on her ear,” Oliver answered. “Problem solved. Either she’ll figure it out, or she’ll have no one to be with.”

Wendy nodded. “I agree. She’s been banned from all the clubs except Boots ’n’ Chains, and now she’s pushed Matthew into a corner with her most recent incident.” She opened the folder. “He seems to think she’s redeemable. I’ve trusted him before, and he’s been a good judge of character. We talked it out and came up with a short-term contract that might be the answer.”

Oliver fidgeted in his chair. “Let him work with her, then. She can’t be that stupid not to understand what the consequences are when you’re not in tune with your partner. And if she is and it’s still not working, then she deserves everything she gets.”

“He can’t. In the first place, he’s a submissive and there’s no way in hell she’s going to listen to him in any other capacity other than as the club manager. And his own Domme won’t let him, so that’s not an option.” Wendy slowly pushed the folder across the table to rest in front of him. “He thinks she needs to experience life as a submissive in order to become a better Domme. Walking on the other side might give her more appreciation and temper her attitude. Or, and this is only on his gut feeling, she’s a submissive deep inside and needs help to embrace her inner nature. Either way, he’s willing to pay HP to alleviate the situation.”

“Why? What’s his stake in this?” Oliver couldn’t help but be drawn to look at the color picture clipped to the inside paper. “Is she someone important, someone who the club can’t do without?”

The redhead winked slyly at the photographer with a trace of a laugh on her lips.

Interesting.

He couldn’t look away. There was something about her eyes, something daring him to look deeper.

Challenging him.

“He’s a romantic. Along with his Domme. Along with myself and Evan.” Wendy smiled. “I’ve run into Veronica a few times at the club. She’s got something wrong with her wiring. I can see it.” A wistful look replaced her smile. “If you’re not honest with yourself, how can you be honest with those around you? We’re willing to work with Matthew to help her get her head on straight because our community needs to try to help each other when it can. We’ve got enough enemies out there.”

“So instead of booting her ass, you’re going to rehabilitate it?” Oliver shook his head. “If she’s as much trouble as you say, it’s going to be tough for her to even admit she’s got a problem, much less accept help for it.”

“This is her last chance, and she knows it. After this, we’re all willing to cut her loose.” Wendy pressed on. “I was thinking she’d be right for you. One last assignment before you leave us and move on.”

“Why?” The words came out harsher than he’d expected. “Why me?”

“Because I trust you and your instincts.”

Whoa.

Didn’t see that coming.

Wendy began to walk around the room. “This is a unique situation, and I believe we need a unique individual to deal with it.” She paused and looked back. “Have you ever wondered where we find our employees?”

He shrugged. “Never thought about it.”

“We find them in a variety of situations, in a bad spot of their lives. They need what we can give them and, in exchange, help those who need help with the most private part of themselves. You were honest from the start when you approached us—what you wanted and what you needed.” She paused and ran her fingertips across the varnished wood. “After your loss.”

Oliver swallowed hard. “I couldn’t deny that part of myself forever. You gave me an outlet where I could be happy while helping others without the emotional entanglements.”

She continued. “You’re one of the most levelheaded men I’ve met. If anyone can show Veronica what the interaction between a Dom and a Sub is all about, it would be you.”

“And if I decline?” Oliver said. “Who gets her then?”

“No one. I won’t put anyone else in her line of fire.” Wendy looked directly at him. “I won’t sugarcoat it. She’s going to be pissed and angry and spitting mad. But there’s no one else I think can handle it. If you say no, I’ll tell Matthew we’re not up to the job, and he’ll send her on her way.”

“She’ll be banned from the club and have no place to go.”

Wendy gave a noncommittal shrug. “There’s always the underground venues, the places that aren’t as careful as the private clubs you and I frequent.”

“That won’t be good for her,” Oliver said. “I’ve heard about these places. Unsafe and ugly doesn’t begin to describe them.”

“Place of last resort,” Wendy answered. “If she needs to play that badly and that roughly, she’ll have to go there and reap the consequences.”

Oliver turned his head to one side and studied the wall.

She needs help.

How can you refuse that?

“Okay. I’ll take this one.” He lifted a finger. “But it’s the last assignment for me. No more.”

“Understood,” she said.

Oliver saw in her eyes that she did.

“Okay. How long do I have?”

“Six weeks, six sessions. Two hours each.”

“What?” If his eyes could have shot out like a cartoon character’s, they would have. “That’s nothing. I’m not starting from scratch with someone with no knowledge of the scene. It’s almost a case of deprogramming her, it’s—” He mentally started to draw up schedules and plans. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“Six weeks is all Matthew and Evelyn could afford,” Wendy confessed. “Hooded Pleasures is still, after all, a business. I’ve given them the best rate I could.”

“And if I forgo my fees?” he said.

Wendy’s eyebrows rose at the offer. “Maybe two more sessions.” She ran her fingers over the folder. “It’s not just the money—it’s a case of seeing if she’s open to change. You can lead her to water, but if she’d rather die of thirst than go on her knees, it doesn’t make a difference if you have her for two months or a year. Some people are beyond saving. I don’t think she is, and I hope to hell all our efforts aren’t in vain.” She spun the folder around. “If she finishes the sessions and still needs help, Matthew can find her someone at the club, a Dom who doesn’t mind assisting with the re-education you’ve started. But if she’s bound and determined to keep making mistakes and hurting people, there’s nothing any of us can do for her.”

“Okay,” Oliver said. “It’s obvious I’ll have to do things differently with her. She’s being forced to see me. She’s not going to be open to the usual routines, the usual methods.” He spoke out loud, verbalizing his thoughts. “Especially if she’s got her mind set against it.”

“I’ll leave it to you to decide if she’s worth the continued effort or not.” Wendy shook her head. “Matthew’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He feels sorry for her as a submissive, but as a manager, he can’t afford to have her running rampant and upsetting the club patrons. That’s why I thought you’d be right for the job,” Wendy replied. “You’re her last best chance of finding what she needs, what she wants.”

“Why me?” Oliver tapped his chest. “What in your mind makes me the right Dom for her?”

Wendy tilted her head to the side and studied him for a second before responding. “Put it down to a feeling. I think now is the right time for this. For both of you.”

He allowed him another ten seconds to let the matter percolate in his mind.

Wendy waited.

She needs someone.

You have to help her.

The last thought was the most sobering.

Melissa would want you to.

Because everyone deserves a last chance to find love.

“All right.” He faced Wendy. “But I reserve the right to call it off if I think she’s unredeemable.”

“Agreed.” Wendy nodded. “Thank you. I’ll make the arrangements and send you the contact information. I’ll also include the form we need signed to complete the deal. As soon as Matthew gets it, he’ll pull her suspension and return her to full member.” She gestured at the file. “Keep it. It’s got her club membership information forms.”

Oliver looked at the photo one more time.

Veronica Locksley.

Her eyes were as blue as the sea and as deep, a trace of sadness drowning out the cheerful image he had originally seen.

He unclipped the photograph and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

Wendy’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

You’re a romantic fool, he imagined Melissa saying. But the world needs more romantic fools.

Sometimes he thought his heart would burst from the void she’d left inside.