“Vi—”
“I also chose not to put a sanction on his record, because apparently I’m too fucking soft and stupid for my own good. Evidently, I didn’t think far enough forward and foresee that he would run to the rich man’s club in order to get his way.” Infuriated by Elias’s lack of regard when it came to her personal space, Violet set her hands on his chest and shoved. “Newsflash, Eli, and you can take this back into that office and repeat it word for word—there is nothing on hell or earth that will compel me into taking Adrian back as a client. Not a damn thing.”
Quicker than a whip in mid-strike, Eli’s hands latched around her wrists, firm and powerful. In a calculated move, he swung her away from the stairs and the fall she was edging closer to taking, then simply bore into her brain with the dark, foreboding blue eyes that made subs quiver and flee. “Did he hurt you?”
Not a sub anymore, she told herself, squaring her shoulders. Tilting her head in challenge, she kept her lips pressed tightly together.
“Violet, I won’t ask again. Did Adrian hurt you in your last session together?”
Part of her wanted to say yes, just to see what his reaction would be—it was well known in the club that anyone who broke the rules, particularly if those rules involved non-consent or violence toward women, faced worse than simply losing their membership at Serenity. “No.”
The harsh furrow in his brow relaxed slightly. “What boundary did he cross?”
It shouldn’t feel like an inquisition, but she was pissed off enough to take the question as accusatory. Like she was the one who’d destroyed the line between personal and professional boundaries, who’d done something stupid likeproposingto a virtual stranger whose public persona was the attraction.
“Forget it,” she said tightly, yanking her wrists free of Elias’s grasp and spinning away from him. “Fire me or don’t, I’m beyond caring at this point. But if I see that asshole on my schedule or he shows up requiring a session, consider my contract ended.”
“We don’t want to lose you, Violet—”
She wasn’t interested in listening to platitudes. They both knew she was an exceptional Domme, popular with the guests, and an integral part of the club’s inner system. She’d become mother hen to a lot of the younger staff, a guardian to some of the single, quieter submissives, but in the end, she was replaceable.
Wasn’t that how it always ended for her?
Something better, younger, more experienced came along and erased her from memory.
As she descended the stairs, Violet flipped Eli the bird through the banister railings. She was already toying with the idea of just packing up her things and disappearing into the night. There was something restless brewing inside her, and it wasn’t telling her to return to Louisiana—not that she would go home.
No, she’d found the courage to abandon her old life; she was not going to return to it with her head bowed and pride in shambles. Onwards and upwards was the saying—if she left Serenity, she would move forward, not backward.
There were a great many cities in the country, a lot of opportunities. Hell, maybe she could stop off in Phoenix for a few weeks and visit Avalon—the Masters and their families there seemed like good people.
It wasn’t like she needed to work, at least not for a while. Her savings would keep her afloat for several months if she stretched them to meet her needs. If she sold her car and utilized public transport, she could travel for at least a year on trains and buses until she found where she belonged.
Violet stopped at the bottom of the steps, her chin lifting as a scent caught her attention. Equal tugs of delight and dread knotted together in her stomach as she inhaled deeply.
Spice. Tobacco. The warm, sweet, slightly woodsy accent…
Creed Centaurus.
It couldn’t be possible, yet she could smell a lingering trace of it on the air. Every single memory she had ofhimwas tied to that fragrance. She’d spent hours with her head on his shoulder, her face pressed into the hollow of his neck and collarbone, breathing him in.
It was fucking synonymous with him.
There was no goddamn way he could have found her here, not after the effort she’d made to ensure no one from Louisiana knew where she was for that exact reason.
Blood still boiling despite the chill worming through her veins, Violet stomped over to the bar doors and wrenched them open, poking her head through to study the patrons but finding no one resembling her ex-Dom. Ignoring Liam’s curious frown, she retreated and gave the dining room the same suspicious treatment, scouring her gaze over the diners.
When no one hit her radar, she relaxed a little, and strode back to the reception desk.
“Good afternoon, Mistress V.”
Not Jennifer today, but Abigail. A perky little blonde barely over the legal limit, she’d been homeless until Callie spotted her on a shopping trip to the city and convinced Evander to offer the girl a job, a home, friends.
Being a massive softie unable to say no to his wife, Evander had brought Abigail into the fold, with the caveat that she didn’t step into any of the play areas for at least a year.
“Hey, Abigail. Can you run a client record for me, please?”
“Of course. What name?”
