Chapter 12

Oliver had retreated into the shower for a good hour after Veronica’s departure, setting the water on scalding and grateful for the soundproof walls. His staff wouldn’t return until six o’clock, and he already had an order in for a steak dinner, medium rare, to be prepared immediately.

He was mentally exhausted.

Physically—

He’d come twice in the shower, frantically pumping himself dry with visions of her ass in the air, those perfect pink cheeks begging for more discipline, for more—

His cock stirred again as he dressed, making it difficult to stay focused on the task at hand.

The phone rang at his desk, snapping him out of his reverie.

Phil sounded nervous on the speakerphone. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a midnight flight out to Vancouver and thought I’d see if you were available to brainstorm this now.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m here and ready to go. Let’s do this.” Oliver walked over to the mini-fridge in his office and opened it up. As per usual, it was stocked with plenty of beer and water.

He chose the latter, snapping the cap off and taking a sip.

Any residual thoughts of Veronica disappeared as he listened to Phil detail the results of surveys and studies just completed.

“So in summary—your suggestion is to do a full makeover of all the stores?” Oliver looked at the near-empty water bottle in his hand. “That’s going to cost a pretty penny.”

“We need something to draw in new customers. The feedback I’m getting from the surveys indicates they see Greenwood Books getting stale. Whether that’s true or not, it’s what they think, and that’s what’s important.” Phil was a good man who had started his career working for Oliver’s father. He’d gone from store employee to manager to his current position of corporate troubleshooter, flying wherever the company needed him to be. “The regulars are, well—regular. We have to offer something to draw in new customers, or when the old fogies die off, we’ll have no one left.”

Oliver laughed. “Including yourself in that list?”

Phil chuckled in response. “I’ve got a few more years left in me, and I’d like to spend them making more money.”

Oliver nodded. “Understood.” He walked to the fridge and got himself a beer. “Let’s start with the flagship store here in town. Send me some ideas of how you want to redo the store. I’m assuming we’re going for more than just repainting the walls.”

“Full makeover. New shelf design, new sculptures on the walls. Something to show we’re hip and with the times.” Phil paused. “And we’re able to hold back the competition.”

Oliver pressed his lips into a tight line. The other independent stores had been nipping at their heels for years, but this was the first year they’d started really digging into Greenwood profits. It wasn’t at a critical level yet, but he couldn’t wait for it to happen.

“Send me the details as soon as you can. And keep it under your hat—I don’t need anyone blabbing online and letting our enemies know what we’re up to.”

“Roger that. Talk to you later.” Phil paused. “You sound pretty good Oliver. I mean—” He paused and Oliver knew he was searching for the right word.

“You sound happy. You haven’t sounded like this for a long time.”

Since Melissa’s death, you mean.

“I feel happy,” he replied. “Later.”

The line went quiet.

I do.

He walked to the window and looked out into the garden, the one Mel had spent so much time caring for and had remained in pristine condition thanks to Andy, their dedicated gardener.

I do.

The roses were blooming and the purple flowers, the ones he could never remember the name of were open wide, exposing their beautiful yellow interiors.

I do.

Oliver felt the tears coming, the sense of loss overwhelming him again. He’d had many of these attacks over the years, and each had lessened with time.

He braced himself for the emotional whirlwind smashing into his heart as he thought about Melissa.

And—

Oliver let out a whuff of air.

Nothing.

No, not nothing, he corrected himself. It was a different feeling, a different sensation. A different emotional rush.

He was—

Oliver wiped his face with his free hand.

He was okay.

The hole in his heart was still there, but the pain was gone, the horrifying emptiness now a comfortable ache.

I’ll never forget you, Mel.

You don’t have to, he imagined her saying. But it’s time for you to start living again.

The buzzer on his desk sounded, breaking Oliver’s train of thought.

“Mr. Greenwood? Your dinner is ready.”

He worked on the steak and potatoes, thinking about what he needed to do to keep Greenwood Books current.

It kept him from wondering about other things.

We already offer free wireless. Plenty of open chairs to sit. Story time each Saturday for the children. Writing groups visit, with author signings at least once a month, if not more. Midnight openings for the hot releases and a downtown store open twenty-four hours a day, year-round.

What else can we do?

He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he found himself mopping up the last of the steak juices with a slice of bread, the potatoes and mushrooms only a faint memory.

Oliver carried the dishes into the kitchen despite the protests of the housekeeper and got himself a beer.

Good exercise, he mused as he retreated to his home office.

The phone rang as he sat down.

Come on, Phil. Give me a break.

He reached for the conference-call button and froze.

The caller identification read Hooded Pleasures in the small gray window.

Oliver tapped the button. “Hello. Can you hold on for a second?”

“Sure,” Wendy said.

He got up and closed the office door. He wasn’t sure if his employees knew his interests or not, but he didn’t have to broadcast them around the house.

And he knew darned well listening to half the conversation would make it even more awkward.

“Okay. Sorry ’bout that.” He settled into his chair and opened his beer. “How are you doing? Is everything okay?”

“Just fine. I wanted to give you an update on one of your other clients. Charlotte showed up last week at Boots ’n’ Chains at the new members night. It went very well.”

Oliver smiled. “That’s good to hear.” He’d enjoyed his time with Charlotte. The tough businesswoman had needed a bit of instruction to turn her book-learned knowledge of what a submissive was into fact. “Some lucky man is going to enjoy her.”

“She had quite a few offers but played it right. Ended up with Carlos and had herself a great time. She sends her thanks and wishes you all the best. So—” Wendy continued, “How’s it going with Veronica?”

“Fine.” He flashed back to a few hours earlier and felt himself growing hard again. “She’s a natural submissive.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I can’t believe she just decided she was a Domme and never explored further.”

“I’ve seen plenty of people decide they’re one or the other based on nothing more than the media images,” Wendy said. “They see a movie or read a book and decide they’re this or that without taking into account their own needs and urges. And when they show up at a club or a meeting, no one wants to challenge them because they’re so self-assured, so confident in their role, it’s pointless. It takes something like this, an intervention, to get them to move beyond the position they’ve assigned themselves.”

“Definitely.” Oliver nodded. “It’s a classic scenario when you think about it. Businesswoman strung out at work, comes to club and takes it out on her subs instead of realizing she’s the one who needs to let herself go, give control to someone else.” He chuckled. “There’s a book in there somewhere.”

“The club’s been quiet without her,” Wendy confessed. “A lot less drama. I must say, I’m impressed—Matthew and I thought she might be a bit too much for anyone to handle.”

“She’s…complicated.” He took a drink. “We’re over halfway through the sessions, and she’s realized she’s a much better sub than a dominant. Hopefully we’ll be able to build on that for the remaining visits.”

“Good.” There was a pause on the line, long enough to unnerve Oliver. “You’re having her come to your house, correct?”

He frowned. “How would you know that?”

“Don’t worry. No one’s playing detective for HP,” Wendy said. “I recognized her home address from the club application when we transferred it onto the HP documents. It’s in an area known for renting flats, and she’s listed as 124A, which usually indicates an apartment.”

“What do you do when you get a situation like this?” Oliver asked, his curiosity stoked. “Up to this point, I’ve always had clients who could provide a safe place to play.”

“We can and do invite them to the office. We have a room here set up for such things. It’s awkward, but all parties involved can make do if it’s needed,” Wendy replied. “Not everyone’s got the room or the environment for this sort of thing.” She paused. “You could have asked us for help, you know.”

“I didn’t think of it.” It was an honest answer. “Of course, now that all makes sense.”

“My bad. I should have mentioned it to you, but I assumed that she’d have enough privacy.”

Oliver nodded. “I thought so too, but when I arrived and assessed the situation, I decided to take her to my house. Her landlord’s a nosy sort, and I wanted to make sure she could let herself go without any worries or restrictions. Charlotte and Linda had their own houses where they could be guaranteed privacy. The only way I could see Veronica was to invite her here.”

Something I’d never done before.

And you know that.

“Of course. I agree completely. As long as it works for both of you,” Wendy said.

Oliver shifted in his seat. For some reason, he felt like he was under inspection and didn’t like it one bit.

“She’s had some issues in her personal life as well. Café had a small fire. Nothing major, but the stress of dealing with it has been a pain.” Oliver took another swig of beer. “I think she’s finding being a submissive is exactly what she needs. But that’s just my opinion.”

“Where’s the café?” Wendy asked.

“Around the corner from one of my stores near High Park. It’s quite nice and friendly.”

“So you visited her there?”

He felt like a mouse wandering a maze laden with traps. “It worked out that way. We’re good.”

“I’m sure.” There was more curiosity than condemnation in her voice. “It’s good for you to get out, explore your options.”

“It’s professional, one businessperson to the other. There’s nothing personal about this. We’re keeping to the contract terms as we both agreed to.” The beer tasted flat. “She understands this and so do I. No dating, no sexual completion.”

He shifted in his chair, feeling the tickle in his groin.

God damn it, Wendy.

“I have no doubt about that. You both signed the contract, and I trust you to keep to it. And I understand events can sometimes run their own course, away from what the rules dictate. Kate and Alex, for one example.”

Oliver knew who she was referring to—Alex, who ended up not only emboldened enough to come to the club and be seen as a submissive man, but who also brought Mistress Kate out of her self-imposed exile and captured her for himself. In the few months since their initial appearance at the club, their love story had become almost legendary.

“Good for them. I’m glad to hear it worked out.”

He was envious in a way. While Oliver wasn’t a sub, he knew the strength, the power of a good strong relationship built on full acceptance and honesty.

He’d had that once with Melissa.

Maybe—

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Wendy said, breaking him out of his self-reflection. “Just wanted to check in on you and make sure you were able to deal with her.”

“Just a question,” Oliver asked. “Would Matthew really have totally banned her from the club if she hadn’t come around?”

“Probably. He’s got a sweet soul, and Evelyn’s a lucky woman to have him, but they both know the club can’t afford a bad rep. Letting her terrorize the subs was only going to lead to heartbreak for all concerned.” She paused. “I’m glad she’s got you. Under all that mental armor, she’s as vulnerable as the rest of us and needs someone to love.”

“But—” Oliver stuttered. “But if things work out, she’s going to return to the club as a submissive. Is that going to sit well with everyone? Will she be able to meet a Master and work with him for even one night?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid she’ll come back to the club and revert to her Domme persona because it offers the easy way out, to tamp down the change she’s had with me. It’ll be hard for her to take the silver if she fears everyone is going to either shun her, or worse, mock her.”

“That’s none of your concern. That wasn’t what we were asked to do.” Wendy’s tone was steady and soft. “We were told to help her realize her inner nature. Now that she has, it’s up to her what she wants to do. I’m sure Matthew can get her ban lifted from the other clubs once she completes her basic training with you and can move on to other men for more experience. If she goes back to being a Domme, she’ll have to deal with the consequences, whatever they might be. It’ll be her decision—not yours, not mine and not Matthew’s. At least she’ll understand more about what she’s putting her men through, having been on the other side.”

Oliver’s mouth went dry.

“Of course,” she continued without waiting for him to reply, “you could always come back to the club if you’re that worried about her. Right? You did say you felt like it was time to move on. What better place to start?”

“Right. Yes. I could come back.” He studied the label on the bottle in his hand, trying to organize his thoughts. “I’ve got to go.”

“No problem. We’ll chat later.” She hung up, leaving Oliver dazed and confused.

Did she call to talk about me or Roni?

Veronica let her breath out slowly as she approached the café. She’d had a restless night imagining no one coming for the store reopening and her and her staff standing around with plenty of coffee and enough freshly baked croissants and bagels to feed an army.

It seemed the army had shown up and was hungry as all get-out.

The line-up to get into the café was halfway around the block, the interior tables all taken, including some last-minute creations she knew had to be Dan’s work. The bright sunflower hanging out of the coffee cup beamed at her as she shuffled through the front door, raising more than one stink-eye from a patron thinking she was cutting the line.

Jane was behind the counter, pulling coffees as fast as she could. She looked up as Veronica approached and paused to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

“Busy. Good. Dan’s in the back.” The barista turned back to her work and ignored Veronica. Another two employees were busy taking orders and hastily grabbing pastries from the display counter to fill the waiting trays. A waitress trotted up to snatch three black trays and swivel on her heel to head back out into the crowd.

Organized chaos, she noted with a smile.

I like chaos.

She made her way behind the counter and slipped into the back office to find Dan quickly bolting together another table. The cardboard box lay against the wall with unopened partners waiting their turn.

“I’ve already called Dana and asked her to come in early, maybe work a double shift. Katy and Grace are running their feet off but it’s not good enough.” He grunted as he twisted the bolts into place with a wrench. “And you owe for this one and two more on the floor. Went round the corner to the hardware store when it became obvious we weren’t going to have enough tables and chairs for this.”

“We’re still legal, right?” she asked. The last thing they needed was a visit from the fire department because they were over code for the number of people allowed in the store.

“We’re okay. Don’t worry, we’re keeping count.” He beamed at her. “It’s all good. The ovens are perfect, and we haven’t had any problems with the customers. They’re fine with waiting as long as they get their hot pastries and good coffee. Lots of talk, lots of compliments, and we’ve already had to empty the tip jar once.”

The knot in Veronica’s belly started to loosen and untwist itself. “Excellent. Is my office still there, or did you cannibalize it for parts?”

“Not yet.” He gave the bolt a final spin. “But I’m not making any promises.”

“Good. I’m meeting someone, so I’ll be out front.” She patted Dan’s shoulder and moved on back to her office.

She dropped her purse under her desk and went back outside to wait for her father.

The line to get into the café had grown even longer in her short absence. While she stood on the corner, she overheard the praises and positive comments about her staff and about her products, the redecorating and the new tables being a common thread.

Veronica couldn’t help but grin.

Yes.

She didn’t want to gloat, but in the back of her mind, she extrapolated the day’s profit.

A few more days like this—

Maybe we could get back on schedule with the new store.

She allowed herself a satisfied smile.

Take that, world.

I’ve got you by the balls.

“You look pleased with yourself,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

She spun to see him standing there in his dark blue power suit, more suited for the boardroom than visiting a coffee shop. He stood there tall and commanding, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight.

Veronica stifled her snarky comment on his clothing.

The man never dresses down for anything.

Probably sleeps in the damned thing.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

She nodded. “I am. I’m afraid we’ll have to sit in my office. There’s no empty seats available. Sorry.”

It took all her willpower not to smirk as she led him through the crowd back inside, letting him study the waiting customers.

Veronica popped her head into the storage space. “Dan, can you get us two coffees and two of those fresh shortbread cookies? I’ll be in my office with my father.” She put the emphasis on the last word to let him know to bring only the best.

Dan’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. He nodded and waved the wrench as she continued on.

Veronica scanned her office with a critical eye as she entered ahead of her father.

Not too clean, not too dirty.

Too clean, and he’d lecture her on not being involved enough with her business.

Too dirty and he’d preach the virtues of having a clear workspace.

At times, it seemed she’d never win.

It was hard to keep from grinning.

Here you go, Dad.

Your daughter’s a success.

Her father stayed silent, taking the seat in front of her desk as she pushed papers to the side to clear space for the food.

“My apologies for the setting. As you can see, we’re rather busy today. Seems our reopening is going quite well.”

He started to speak but fell silent as Dan appeared, carrying a small tray with the coffees and pastries. “Finished building the extra tables in time to wedge a few more customers into the corner. You take your time in here—we’re good.” He gave her father a slight tilt of the head before going back into the hall.

Veronica gave her father a few seconds to take in Dan’s statements before speaking. “So how are you doing?” She pushed the mug of coffee toward him. “Been a long time since we had a sit down like this. I think the last time was when you visited here before.”

“I believe so.” He took a sip and smiled. “A much better brew than before. Your barista seems to have caught on.”

She broke off a piece of the shortbread and nibbled on it. “We’re in the black already. And this is only the brunch crowd. When the after-church people come in, it’s going to be crazy. Crazier,” she corrected herself.

“Yes. An impressive recovery.” He adjusted his jacket. “Too bad it’s all for naught.”

She eyed him carefully, repressing her first urge to jump across the desk and strangle him.

Too many witnesses.

Veronica held back her rage.

He’s playing games again.

Don’t walk into a trap.

“Why would you say that?” she said in a low controlled tone.

“SuperSmartMart wants to put a new store in this area. To be more specific, on this block.” He jabbed his index finger on her desk. “Here, to be exact. Our studies show it to be an excellent spot for expansion.”

For a brief second, she saw her father through a crimson tunnel, her vision impaired with rage.

No.

Veronica forced herself to calmly take a drink before replying. “That’s impossible. We have a signed lease for eight more months. There are other businesses on this block as well, and I’m sure they all have leases too. The building owners can’t just dump us.” She ran her finger along the edge of the ceramic mug. “Not without paying a stiff penalty.”

“They can. They will. Actually, to rephrase it—we can and will. SuperSmartMart’s buying up the entire block. We signed the papers a week ago, and now it’s a matter of evicting the tenants. All the business owners will be fairly compensated for the remainder of their leases. This site is optimum for a megastore.” Alfred snapped off a small piece of cookie and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, watching her intently. “We plan to start construction as soon as possible.”

Veronica’s head spun. “But we—” The options scrambled around in her brain. “We’ve cultivated a good customer base here. We might not get them to move with us. And where are we going to move on such short notice?” Her mind flipped through the options as she said them out loud. “I’ll fight the eviction in court. There’s no notice, no reason—” She broke off her ranting and frowned, a horrible idea entering her thoughts. “Why here? Why my block?” She jabbed her finger at him. “There’s an entire bloody city out there. Why here?” she repeated.

Alfred shrugged. “You know the way we work. Studies were done and the results presented to the board.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s a sound investment. With the bookstore around the corner and the emergence of the area as a growing family destination, a store here is good business.”

No.

He wouldn’t.

Her stomach rebelled, threatening to toss back the coffee and shortbread. “You’re on the board of directors,” she started, “so you knew this would impact my business. And not in a good way.”

Alfred stared at her with a blank expression.

Veronica continued, channeling her nausea into her rant. “This didn’t just happen. This sort of decision takes weeks, months. During which you watched me put this café together and put all I had into it emotionally and financially.” She narrowed her eyes, seeking any sign of remorse. “You could have called me and told me what was happening so I could have prepared for it, sought out a different location and prepared to move. Or better yet, cancelled the entire damned deal.”

It took a concentrated effort, but Veronica kept her voice low. There was no use letting everyone else know their little world had imploded. “You could have helped me out. You should have let me know.”

His expression remained unchanged. “Despite what you might think, I don’t control the board of directors. The studies were conducted without my knowledge, and it was only when it came to my desk for approval I realized it was where you happened to be. It’s unfortunate you and other small businesses are in the way, but it’s the way the game goes. The larger companies push the smaller ones out of the way—I believe you covered this in university, yes?” He tugged at each dark blue sleeve. “As for informing you ahead of time…” He took another sip of coffee to delay his answer a fraction longer and to annoy her more. “I was under no legal obligation to do so. And if I had, it might have led to accusations of favoritism from my colleagues. It wouldn’t be fair to the other shops on the block now—would it?”

Veronica was shocked into silence.

You—

She felt like she’d been stabbed in the heart.

“However…” He smiled, reminding her of a hungry lion. “I anticipated your reaction and have arranged for you to have a position in the new store. Lower management, but I’m sure you can make it work.”

For a brief second, Veronica wondered if her new oven could be used to dispose of a human body.

No.

Too long a cooking time.

And I’ll never get the smell out.

“This café is something I’ve been working toward for years.” She gritted her teeth. “I turned down a job with SuperSmartMart when I graduated. What makes you think I’d take a job now?”

He shrugged, his eyes half-closed. “It’s your decision. Your success here, of course, will be taken into consideration when it comes to promotion in your new company.” Alfred waved one hand in the air. “You’ve done exceptionally well building this business up from scratch. But you have to understand what you do reflects on me, reflects on the family name. And right now that name is connected with SuperSmartMart, not some rinky-dink coffee shop that’ll choke out at two stores because you can’t compete with the larger corporate entities. You know I’m speaking the truth.” He locked eyes with her. “You might grow to three, maybe five stores before you hit the wall. Your cute little pastries, your specialty coffees, your excellent service might buy you a bit of space, but you’re nothing alongside the big players. Eventually you’ll be bought out, and all I’ve done is speed up the timetable. Wake up, Veronica. It’s time to grow up.”

Veronica saw red. She waved at the door, fighting to keep her voice below a yell. “Do you see those people out there? They’re not here because they’re desperate for coffee or to get out of the rain. They’re coming here because they enjoy the atmosphere and the service, the food and the drinks.”

Alfred stayed seated, his hands neatly folded in his lap. “You seriously think your Java Jive is going to survive and thrive with the big boys?” He scoffed. “You won’t ever be able to dig out enough of the market share to do much more than collect the trash.” He shook his head. “This is for the best. You come into the company and forget this silliness. It’s time you settled down with a secure job, a secure future.”

“I—” She couldn’t find the words, her rage and frustration sucking her down a black hole. “Get. Out.”

Alfred rose. “Thanks for the coffee. The barista will have no problem getting another job.” He looked at her. “It’s what your mother would have wanted. The two of us working together. I know you’re upset, and that’s understandable, but I hope you’ll come around.” He walked to the door and stopped to look back at her. “Of course, you don’t have to take the job, but you’ll be unemployed and out the cost you’ve invested in this business, putting you deep in red ink. Even with the payout from breaking your lease, you might never recover financially. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. Call me when you’re ready to discuss your new position in SuperSmartMart.”

He strode out as she stood there, shaking with anger.

He can’t—

He just did.

Veronica grabbed the nearby wastebasket and vomited up the little coffee and cookie she’d eaten.

She wiped her mouth with a tissue from her desk, mentally running through the discussion.

No way out.

Her father might be an asshole but he was a competent asshole. She’d seen this sort of thing happen before in other areas of the city and they’d discussed examples like this in university. It wasn’t as uncommon a scenario as she’d like to think.

She tossed the tissue in the garbage and fell back into her chair.

It’s over.

Appeals could be filed but it’d take money and time. And by the time the final decision came down for SuperSmartMart—and she had no doubt they’d win in the end—she’d be even more in the hole financially.

Dan. Jane. The rest of the staff. The waitresses and extra help they’d pulled in today.

All of them pink-slipped.

There was no room in a SuperSmartMart for them.

She did fast math—the payout for breaking the lease might be enough to move Java Jive to another location. But it’d take more time and money, and, as she said, the customers might not follow and—

The nausea returned, but there was nothing for it to do other than churn her stomach up.

Veronica walked out of her office.

She couldn’t stay there in the middle of her biggest triumph when it was turning into the mother of all garbage piles.

The café was filled to capacity.

Dan smiled, and Jane looked up from her coffee machine and gave a jaunty wave as Veronica strolled out of the store and past the waiting customers, forcing herself to maintain a smile and a steady pace.

All she wanted to do was run.

As soon as she got out of sight of the lineup that was what she did.