I still rode the high of breaking down Violet’s walls when I walked into the club later that night. Olivia planned to meet me at ten, but I showed up a few minutes after. She probably already wandered around, looking for me.
When I entered the club, I took a minute to think about what I planned to do with Olivia. Would I regret my decision, after years of pursuit, to give her up for a woman I’d known a couple weeks?
Surprisingly, the immediate thought in my head said no. My mind swam with visions of Violet coming on my hands. My cock twitched thinking about it. If I wanted inside her heart, her mind, her body, I knew I’d have to give up my chase of Olivia and focus on Violet.
The decision had been easier than I thought. Made between the second Violet tried to put back on her mask and the ding of the elevator door closing on her shell-shocked face.
I don’t know what changed, and I really hadn’t given myself the time to analyze it. Violet just fit me. I even liked her fiery spirit and her constant challenge to my authority. She wouldn’t be a woman I could order around, but something about that turned me on. Every time she fought against my wishes, it only made me want her more.
What I hadn’t let myself consider was how this might play out at the office. But now certainly wasn’t the time to think about it. I came here for one reason: tell Olivia everything and bow out before we even began.
And after I’d taken care of that, I’d focus my energy on getting Violet to loosen her walls, or at the very least, make me a damn door. I’d have to be slow about it, steady, and show her that I wasn’t playing games.
Two female dominants squeezed past me in a narrow hall leading to the bigger rooms. Normally, I wouldn’t have spared them a glance, but I caught the name Olivia and froze. They kept walking, but I stayed still, straining to hear more.
“Master Cesario walked in, grabbed her by the arm, and marched her to a private room. I was even turned on by the display,” one dominant whispered before they pushed out into another hall, and I lost the conversation.
I entered the main room and went for the chairs in the voyeur area where Olivia usually played with her dominants. The pit sat empty, and I spun to survey the long hallway of private rooms.
The woman said, “Master Cesario.” No one had ever seen the face of the dominant Olivia chased around like a puppy. No one knew if they were a man or a woman. They often stood behind a curtain, shielded from view, ordering Olivia but never touching her. The mystery of their identity had been a club secret for a while. I’d never even heard the name Cesario whispered within these walls. Fuck.
Information and facts began a cascade together in my head until a realization formed. Was Olivia’s beloved dominant actually Violet? Is that why they seemed to fall so quickly toward each other the first week Violet worked at Illyria?
I sat down in an empty booth. Not my usual, but everything in my head realigned around Violet being the dominant Olivia pined over so much. My heartbeat, a heavy rush rush rush, pounded in my ears.
And then with a punch in the sternum, it hit me hard. If Violet already had Olivia, what was she doing with me then? Had it all been an act? Her masks and the cracks. Was she so good that I got duped?
I rubbed my chest. This fucking hurt. This particular pain, an achy burn fusing against my ribs, what the fuck was it?
Betrayal. Regret.
A disgusting soup mix of shame.
My usual waitress brought a glass of bourbon and set it on the table before leaving. I must have looked like I needed a drink. I picked up the chilled glass, tossed back the liquor, and swallowed hard. It needed to eat a hole to get past the lump in my throat.
The lights, the atmosphere, the soft cadence of lover’s whispers usually calmed me, lulled me to a peaceful place I rarely found outside these walls. But now, it all pressed around me, too loud, too incredibly close.
I don’t know how long I sat there, at least one more bourbon long. No one approached, and no one offered me solace. This place I’d lived for years sat hollow and empty. Like my chest cavity right now.
The tinkling sound of Olivia’s laughter reached me first before she entered and headed toward the bar. I watched her from the corner of my eye, praying maybe I’d misheard, and she’d been looking for me this entire time. She caught sight of me and approached. I couldn’t look her in the eye. Her clothes were askew, her lipstick wiped away, bare feet.
“Olivia,” I said, when she approached with a smile. Really all I could manage while trying to avoid catching sight of Violet sneaking away somewhere.
Her grin faltered as she looked me over. “Are you okay, Mr. Orsino?”
I stood and buttoned my jacket about to leave. For the first time, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want to think about any of it.
I turned and walked out without a word.
“Duke,” she called after me. But I kept walking. I retrieved my coat and dove into the cold, dark street like a man fighting for the surface of the ocean.
The sub-freezing temperature hit my face, and it let me think a little more clearly. As I walked, I considered the facts again. I’d always assumed Olivia’s master was a man. But, the person always wore a suit, black on black on black, and in the club’s low lighting…I couldn’t be sure. Not that I ever wanted to look. I usually averted my eyes when they passed, for fear of seeing too much on Olivia’s face.
And I did the same when she came out after playing, languid and smiling. Which is why she’d probably never glimpsed me at the club, and right now, I couldn’t tell if the woman I’d let myself start falling in love with played me the entire time. Did she know about Olivia from the very beginning and used my lust for her to manipulate me into helping her with the job?
What was Violet’s end game? That seemed to be the question I kept circling back to. What the fuck did she want?
I walked back to my apartment quickly. The cold in the air and my mood swirling to push me faster until my legs burned. When I got to my apartment, I started stripping the layers until I made it to my bed in nothing but my black boxer briefs.
What did I do at work tomorrow? And how did I talk to Violet about this? Tell her how much this betrayal stung.
No. Be a man.
I shifted under the covers and decided I wouldn’t talk to Violet about it at all. We’d go back to being professionals. I wouldn’t pursue Olivia or Violet, and then things would go back to normal.
Stupidly, I let my mind wander, and it kept circling back to Violet, shivering and shaking in my embrace. My cock tightened and hardened thinking about her like that. I wanted to ease the ache in my balls, but I didn’t want to think about her anymore.
This ache in my chest resulted from that. Jerking off to the taste of her on my tongue probably wouldn’t help.
I didn’t want to think about Olivia either. How the hell did I get into this mess? My love life was simple and straightforward. I kept it that way purposefully. Maybe this had been an uncomfortable reminder on why.
The idea of going back to casual sex after touching her didn’t sit well with me either. We’d connected. Her obedience and fight at the same time. It turned me on like nothing else had. I craved it now. I wanted to watch her eyelashes drift closed in pleasure as I fucked her on every flat surface in her apartment. I wanted so much more.
Worse, I wanted to wake up next to her. And I didn’t share my bed with anyone. If there would be sleeping over, I always stayed at a woman’s place, or a hotel. I never brought women to my home. And that’s’ all I could think about now. Violet’s dark hair spilled over my grey satin sheets. Her fingers digging into the edge of my headboard.
I wanted it all.
That’s why this fucking hurt so much. I’d never needed any of this shit. And now that I wanted it, she stole that possibility. It felt like a fucking loss I should have seen coming.
She’d taken the thing I didn’t know I needed, and now, I’d never have it. I wouldn’t allow myself to feel this way again.
Fuck her. Fuck this shit.
I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Morning was a long way off. I could go to the office and work, but I’d only think about her there too.
No. I’d stay in bed, ignore my hard on, and try to figure out how to make sure my reputation stayed flawless, and get Violet out of my fucking sight on a daily basis. As my CFO, I didn’t need to interact with her regularly. Once I got the board to approve her permanently, I could move her to another floor, and she could do all her work interacting with them.
They’d love that. And I wouldn’t have to see her.
With a plan in my head, it was easier to clear out the clutter and let myself drift off. I prayed she wasn’t on my mind when I woke up in the morning.