Chapter 17
Oliver backed up in front of his store, frowning as he studied the placards being mounted in the window. He gestured at the employee standing inside to move it to the right.
He grunted as the sign advertising the newest James Patterson book was properly centered. His gaze darted down to the sidewalk and toward the nearest intersection.
It’d only been three days since he’d gone around the corner to where Java Jive had stood, where Veronica had been.
It felt like decades.
Oliver went to bed after finishing half the bottle of scotch and raiding the kitchen, leaving a lovely mess for Marie.
He’d woken up early the next morning, hungover and grumpy but eager to set his staff on the research tasks necessary to present it to his management. Three days later, and it was finished and proofed, approved and ready to put into play.
Now all he had to do was convince one person to go along with the plan.
Problem was he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t kick his ass to the curb before he could explain it.
When he woke early this morning, he’d come down here to busy himself, working up the nerve to propose his solution to save Greenwood Books from going extinct.
Maybe proposal isn’t the right word, he mused.
He’d seen the construction trucks rumbling by, carrying their cargo to the new SuperSmartMart site.
The bastards were early.
His business associates had been happy when he’d informed them of their new neighbor. They figured it’d bring more traffic to Greenwood Books, new customers who would love a bookstore to browse and shop in.
They didn’t care an entire city block was about to be run over by a mega corporation and five small businesses, including Java Jive, were about to be wiped out of existence.
He had an answer for one of those businesses, a lifeline that would save it.
He wasn’t sure how to approach the situation without appearing like a total fool or a total monster.
He coughed into his hand to hide his nervousness.
This is ridiculous. You’ve faced down big executives who wanted to buy out the company. You’ve dealt with annoyed authors and angry readers upset their favorite book wasn’t at the front of the store.
Hells bells—you’ve dealt with your in-laws at Thanksgiving. Doesn’t get much more dangerous than that.
Right. Move it or lose it.
A thumbs-up to the employee in the window, and Oliver started off down the street.
Veronica slumped in the steel chair, not caring about the hot air dragging past her courtesy of the construction vehicles.
Things couldn’t get much worse. She’d lost precious sleep over the past few nights trying to sort her feelings out about Oliver and each day came in to find fewer and fewer customers and a deflated, skeleton staff thanks to the noise and dust kicked up by the construction crews already beginning to demolish the opposite end of the block.
Technically, she had until the end of the week to keep Java Jive open.
In reality, she doubted she’d have more than today. There was no point in paying people to stand around, and if she were a customer, she’d pass on by without daring to see if the store was open. There wasn’t much appeal in swallowing drywall dust along with your croissant or stirring flakes of paint into your coffee.
Sure as hell she wasn’t going to cater to the construction crews. She doubted they’d be interested in a cappuccino and scone.
She snapped the cap off the water bottle in her hand and took a drink.
“What a mess.” The familiar voice sent a chill up her back.
Veronica looked up to see Oliver standing there. The dust was already settling on his trench coat, and she saw him squinting through the haze.
He looked—exhausted. His bloodshot eyes were still a brilliant blue, the sapphires locking with hers and demanding a reply.
Today he wore a white dress shirt and a black tie, the top few buttons undone and the tie hanging around his neck as if it were a first attempt to knot it.
The beard stubble was there.
Her thighs ached with the muscle memory even as she wondered how he managed to shave and yet not shave.
“Tell me about it.” She jerked a thumb at the work vehicles parked farther down the street. “They’re already ripping the hell out of the storage rental place.” She waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air. “I’m hoping this crap is filled with asbestos so I can sue the hell out of them.”
He chuckled. “Can we go to your office and talk?” He held up his hands. “I’ll be good. Promise.”
She took another sip and eyed him, saying nothing.
“Look.” He rested his knuckles on the wrought iron table. “I’m not here about us. I’m here about helping you out and your employees. Will you at least hear me out? For the sake of Dan and your other people?”
“That doesn’t make sense.” It took all her willpower to keep her voice steady. “You don’t want to talk about us, but we’re going to discuss something that helps me.”
Oliver coughed as another dust devil whirled by. “Let me explain. Please.” His eyebrows rose. “Inside?”
She capped the bottle. “Five minutes. I’ve got to help packing.”
Dan glanced at the two of them as they entered, giving her a curious stare.
“Might as well hang the Closed sign up and count the cash.” Veronica made sure the door closed behind them and flipped the deadbolt. “No one’s coming in with this mess outside. Let’s get ready to put ’er to bed. Make sure everyone knows they’re getting our arranged pay—it’s not their fault we’re closing early.”
She forced herself to sound calm despite the pain tearing at her insides.
Dan nodded. “You got it boss lady.” He gestured at Jane, who had insisted on working until the very end as well. “We’ll take it from here.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Set up a box for yourself with coffee beans and pastries. I won’t leave them behind to be crushed by those construction punks.”
Jane’s announcement that she had first call on the chocolate croissants followed her back to her office.
“How’s it going?” Oliver had seated himself before she got around her desk to her own chair.
“Not much left to do. As you can see.” She looked down at her almost-bare desk. “We let most of the staff go already once it was obvious the tear-down wasn’t going to stop. I’ve already sold off all the equipment.”
“Did you call your father? Maybe—”
She cut him off with an angry chop of her hand. “I left a message. That’s all I could do. Probably not even his decision anyway and I doubt he’d give a crap right now.” Veronica slumped back in her chair.
She ached all over, inside and out. The euphoria of a few days ago had been replaced with muscle aches and pains as she watched her business wither and die in front of her.
Her hands went to her temples, and she closed her eyes. “Say what you’re here to say and be done with it. I’m sorry but I’m not good company today, and I’m not in a mood to play any games.”
“Just listen to me.” His voice came to her, soft and steady. “Greenwood Books has been losing business. Our customers are wandering off, and we need to get them back.” She heard his sigh. “It’s hard with everyone ordering everything online to convince them to step out of the house and come to the bookstore. We’ve embarked on a new public relations campaign to sell the store as a place to come and read, be sociable and hang out with friends who love to read as well. Reading clubs, author signings and more comfy chairs to curl up in.” He paused. “It wasn’t until a few nights ago that I thought of what we needed desperately.”
Veronica waited, massaging her temples.
“We need a coffee shop.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him.
“I took the concept to my people via a late-night video conference. It took a few days to crunch the numbers and do the surveys, but they agree it’d offer something to the customers to get them coming in and staying longer.”
Oliver frowned. “It was suggested by one of my associates we contact the big boys, the larger companies, and offer them space in all three Toronto bookstores to start with before extending out to the other stores.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to give those assholes any more money than I have to. They’ve got their corner shops and big coffee houses and online ordering and all that. I want to give my customers something different, something unique, something independent.” He locked eyes with her. “I want to give them Java Jive.”
Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the single sentence.
Give them Java Jive.
A vision flashed in front of her, of coffee shops dotting the landscape, each tied to a flourishing bookstore. Children and parents sitting down for a cool drink after purchasing the latest bestseller. Seniors enjoying a sweet treat while discussing the latest hot romance or verbally brawling over the newest nonfiction trend.
And behind it all, Veronica stood, proudly waving the indie flag in the face of the giant coffee franchises.
Take that, SuperSmartMart.
Her pulse soared into triple digits before she forced herself to stay calm, tamping down the euphoria with a heavy dose of reality.
Walking into a minefield here, girl, she told herself. You don’t want to end up in a worse place than you are now by agreeing to whatever he says.
Let’s see how Oliver Greenwood does business.
She let her breath out slowly, counting to ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
“Let me make a few points clear. I’m not selling out to you.” She found her voice, strong and confident. “Java Jive is mine and mine alone.”
He nodded.
“I want full ownership of each café. A partnership with Greenwood Books.” She waited for any negative reaction. “One in each store across the country. Where Greenwood Books go, Java Jive goes. I retain the right to open up my own independent stores on the side if I can find a good location.”
Her heart sped up, choking her thoughts.
Yes.
We can do this.
“I expected as much.” He nodded. “The lawyers drew up the papers. All you need to do is drop by their office tomorrow morning and sign off on all the bits and pieces but I told them to pretty well give you what you ask within reason. Bring your own lawyer to make sure they haven’t slipped in anything.”
Veronica cocked her head to one side, unable to help grinning. “Don’t you trust your own lawyers?”
Oliver laughed. “I do. But you shouldn’t. It’s good business.”
She studied his face for a second before continuing. “What the hell made you think of this? And why didn’t you think of it before when I was up to my ass in ashes and sackcloth?”
She tried not to sound bitter.
You are where you are today because of past events, she reminded herself.
Changed for the better.
Don’t look the gift horse in the mouth. Or worse, yank on his tail.
Oliver sat back. “I’m an idiot.” He spread his hands and chuckled. “There’s no way around it. Here I was looking for something, and it was in my sights all along.”
She didn’t miss the double meaning in his words.
“Thank you.” She rose and extended her hand. “I’d be pleased to accept your offer. I’ve got two people here who are going to need jobs in about ten minutes and a dozen more who I can call back at a moment’s notice.”
“Good.” He took her hand, and she felt the electricity spark between them.
Mine.
Yours.
Oliver gave a fast shake and released her.
You feel it too.
She ground her teeth together.
Solved one problem and smacked myself in the face with another.
“I’ve already placed the construction orders to renovate the stores,” he admitted. “It’s a basic design, but I’d like your input.”
“You’d like Jane and Dan’s input,” she corrected him. “They’re the ones who can help you the most. They’ve got more time on the floor than I do and can make everything as efficient as possible.”
The weight lifted off her shoulders only to be replaced by a fluttering in her gut.
“Good. You talk to them, and when they’re ready, they can come over to my store. I’ll get them set up with HR and we can—” He stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Are we not going to talk about the other night? Ever?” She hated to push it, but she couldn’t leave it, not now.
“Yes. No.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I thought I explained it to you. We broke the rules and—”
She was around the desk before he could react, glaring at him. “Say that one more time. I dare you to.”
He paused, taken off-balance by her approach.
I won’t let you go now.
“You told me I was a sub. You showed me I was a sub.” She touched the hollow at the base of her throat. “I get that now. I didn’t understand the emotions behind it, the psychology, whatever you want to call it. I do now.”
Veronica leaned back on her desk and crossed her arms. “I didn’t get the power exchange before, and you taught me. Thank you. But there’s no reason why I can’t be with you now. And don’t say it’s because we’re business partners. I can point you to a half-dozen couples right now who are together in and out of the office. They might not be into the kink, but they sure as hell managed to keep a relationship going while working together. So why the hell not?”
For one of the few times in his life, Oliver found himself tongue-tied.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “I can’t put it into words. All I know is it doesn’t feel right. Not yet.”
Melissa.
“You lost your wife,” Veronica said. “I can’t guess how horrible that must have felt. To lose a part of you.” She stared at him, and he felt the tug-of-war between them. “I can’t replace her, and I have no wish to. I don’t know what’s holding you back, but I want to believe she would want you to be happy. Maybe you can have it with me, maybe not. But I suspect she’d want you to try.”
She stepped past him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll give the good news to my staff.” Veronica stopped in the hall and looked back. “I might even go to the club tonight to celebrate.”
He didn’t say anything as she spun and continued her good-news delivery.
The club.
A ball of anger coiled in his belly at the idea of her on the dance floor, waiting for some man to come take control of her, bend her to his will.
He hadn’t been to Boots ’n’ Chains in a while and had no idea who the good Doms were.
If she ends up with an abusive man, a male version of her earlier persona—
Not your problem, his subconscious snapped.
Matthew will keep an eye on her.
She’ll be safe.
He heard a scream of delight from outside the office. A roar of laughter followed, accompanied by clapping.
Not hers.
He knew how she sounded. How she felt in his arms.
How she tasted.
Oliver bunched his hands into fists.
All he had to do was walk out there and take her hand, bring her back here or take her to his house, to his domain. Declare his love for her and tell her everything he’d been feeling for her over the past few days, his need for his Roni.
But he couldn’t.
She didn’t understand, and he doubted she would even if he explained it to her a hundred times.
It wasn’t a case of her not being smart enough to understand.
It was a case of her not seeing the obvious.
He would love to be her Dom.
But not until she had seen who else was out there.
Veronica didn’t know it but she deserved to find her Dom on her own, experience her own revelation about whom she wanted to be with.
He couldn’t accept her as his submissive and worry she’d ever come to regret it, long for one more stroll around the floor at Boots ’n’ Chains and the touch of another man.
In another time and day, it’d be called “sowing your oats”, an outdated goal for young men to go wild until they got married and settled down, their desire for adventure and change tamped down with experience.
This—this was the same thing.
At least in his mind.
He had to let her go to see if she’d want to come back to him.
Veronica’s laugh reached him, and he strode out through the store, past the rejoicing employees and out the door before she could stop him.
If you love something—
He clenched his teeth so hard, he thought he’d pop a crown.
Whoever created that saying was too smart for their own good.
It was the best of times and the worst of times for Veronica.
The last two weeks had been the busiest of her life.
Despite what she’d told Oliver, she hadn’t gone to Boots ’n’ Chains at all, the excitement of the merger sapping all of her energy, emotional and physical. Days had been occupied with phone calls and meetings, her own lawyer shaking his head at how easy it had been to negotiate with Oliver’s lawyers and happy to take her money for what they both agreed was a godsend for her and the employees.
She’d already appointed Jane to take charge of one store while Dan had the second.
Of course, she took the one around the corner from the old café. Her story was that she needed to be at the megastore in order to keep an eye on business, but Dan’s sly wink and Jane’s saucy laugh had told her she wasn’t fooling anyone.
Now—it was done.
It’d take a few days for the paperwork to clear, but she had most of her old staff willing to wait and return. Many of them already planned to spend most of their salaries on books.
All in all, her future looked pretty bright.
Except her vision of the future included Oliver Greenwood.
She just couldn’t figure out how to make it happen.
First things first, she reminded herself as she got into the taxi.
She had a few apologies to make before she could even begin to think about Oliver.
It was already dark, and she’d managed to slip by Mr. Anderson. He might have raised an eyebrow at the red wig and long raincoat she wore but there had been a weather report warning of rain so she was covered.
So to speak.
The two doormen at the club nodded as she got out and approached them.
“Veronica,” one murmured. “Good to see you.”
The greeting didn’t calm the butterflies in her stomach.
“I’m here to see Matthew.” Veronica croaked out, feeling her nerve start to falter.
Ed smiled, a broad welcoming grin. “We received word you'd be arriving.” He opened the door and waved her through. “Welcome back.”
She noticed he didn’t add the honorific “Mistress.”
The long hallway ended at the greeting desk, where Jackie the assistant manager sat, waiting to welcome each member. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a tight French braid, and she wore a black suit, her usual attire before coming inside the club for her own entertainment.
“Veronica.” The cheerfulness in Jackie’s voice didn’t help calm Veronica’s jangled nerves. “Great to see you.”
She stopped at Jackie’s desk. “I’m not sure how this is supposed to work. But first—” She put up her hand, stopping Jackie from speaking. “I’m sorry for being such a pain. I’ve been a thorn in your side for months and I regret it.”
Jackie smiled. “Apology accepted. But you didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “I had to.” She swallowed hard, her stomach in knots. “What happens now?”
“First, breathe.” Jackie reached over and patted her arm. “When you’re up to it, go on in and see Matthew. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. No one’s going to say anything to you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Because there’ll be hell to pay if they do. Matthew won’t let anyone be nasty. Count on it.”
Not the first time?
Jackie chuckled, most likely at Veronica’s expression. “I can’t give you details because of the confidentiality agreement we all signed, but I can promise you you’re not the first to find yourself in an unusual situation. And likely not the last.” She pressed a button under the desk to unlock the door to the locker room. “When you’re ready, head in to his office. I’ll let him know you’re here. There’s no rush—take your time.”
“Thank you.” Veronica resisted the urge to check her wig as she walked behind the desk.
The locker room was empty. She’d intentionally come in during the week, early in the evening before the after-dinner crowd showed up.
It was tough enough to make this return; she didn’t need to put herself up on a pedestal for public humiliation.
She hung up her raincoat and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. The black leather corset, black pumps and matching stockings were as neutral an outfit as she could put together—she wasn’t going to throw out all of her clothing because she’d switched sides.
Veronica put her hand on the doorknob and paused.
You can leave, the tiny voice said. No one will say anything to you.
But she’d be incomplete.
She was already suffering what she used to call withdrawal symptoms.
It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, a hidden ailment digging under her skin.
She caught the whiff of leather and felt her pulse shoot up. Her imagination supplied the rest.
Still have to make the walk of shame.
It was a short walk from the locker room across the dance floor to Matthew’s office, but it might as well have been across the country. She felt the eyes on her, heard the whispering despite the music playing.
The office door was open, offering temporary sanctuary.
She stepped inside and closed it, grateful for the privacy.
Matthew was there, wearing the same outfit he always did—a pristine white dress shirt setting off his short black hair and goatee.
He smiled. “Veronica.” Matthew gestured her toward a chair. “I’m pleased to see you again.”
The light caught the silver chain hanging around his neck, reminding her of their last conversation.
“I want to apologize before we talk about anything else,” she said. “I abused your hospitality and that of the club members and I regret it.”
The nervous aching in her chest lessened as Matthew gave her a wide smile.
“Thank you. Accepted.” He paused and glanced down at his desk, covered with various papers. “I got the report from Hooded Pleasures. You’ve decided to embrace your submissive nature.” His hand brushed over his silver chain. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
She shifted in the cold wooden chair. “My tutor was very—intense. He helped me figure out my real preferences.”
Kneeling at Oliver’s feet.
Veronica pushed the image out of her mind as Matthew nodded. “Evelyn and I thought being a submissive for a few sessions would help you be more empathic if you wanted to return as a Domme—but I’m glad you’ve chosen this life. It’s not an easy road, however. You’re a baby when it comes to being a submissive, and not because you’re younger than I am.” He clasped his hands together in front of him and rested them on the desk. “Five sessions, in my opinion, is barely enough to give you a taste of what and who you are. You’ll learn more here on the floor with the various Doms than in a lifetime of reading about it online.”
“You’re correct,” she admitted. “I might be a submissive, but not a very good one, not right now. But I can learn, and I’m going to learn.” She threw him a sly wink. “From the best.”
Matthew laughed. “Now there’s the Veronica I remember.” He opened a drawer. “I’m sure Jackie told you no one here holds anything against you—every time a sub safe-worded out, you ended the session promptly and fairly. Anyone wants to pick a fight with you has to deal with me. I won’t have this become a revenge game.”
He placed a slender silver bracelet on the desk in front of her. The simple band was plain and unadorned, giving no idea of the emotional weight it held.
“Are you ready for this?” Matthew said.
Veronica extended her left hand. “Yes.”
It took a concentrated effort to keep from shaking.
He clipped the bracelet onto her wrist.
She drew a deep breath.
Now it begins.
There was a buzzing in her ears and a momentary dizziness as she felt the cool metal against her skin.
It was a rebirth of sorts, a remaking of herself inside and out.
Matthew clasped his hands around hers. “I’m glad for you.” The softness in his eyes almost brought her to tears. “Evelyn’s made me the happiest man around. I hope you find a man who can give that to you. You deserve to love and be loved.”
“Thank you.” She waited until he’d released her hands to dab at her eyes.
“You’re free to go out there. If you have any problems—” He wagged his index finger. “Any problems, you call me. Period. As of now, you’re off probation and full membership restored.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’ve told the other clubs about your reformation, and they’re going to pull your suspensions as well. But I hope you’ll stay here.”
Veronica rose. “I hope so as well. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
He followed suit and walked her to the door. “Pay it forward, I always say.” He touched the silver chain around his neck. “I got lucky and found Evelyn. The least I can do is help someone else find their right track.” He opened the door. “Welcome to Boots ’n’ Chains.”