There was another limo in the drive, and she saw Wade give Max a companionable wave. He was Savannah’s regular driver, and Dana had probably carpooled with her, freeing Max up for the evening to chauffeur Ben.
She felt that surge of resentment again, pushed it away. Marcie had called her car service on the way back, letting them know she’d found another ride. It would save her some money, the only consolation so far for this terrible night.
“You going to be all right?”
She looked at Max, who’d come around to open the door for her. She’d washed her face, combed her hair, dabbed some makeup on the black eye, though Cass already knew about that. She was fine. As fine as porcelain. Giving him a nod, she took his hand to get out. “I’m sorry I changed your schedule this evening.”
“Not by much. All I was doing was waiting on Ben, picking up some extra cash with the overtime. He was planning on watching tonight, not playing. He’d only been inside an hour when he came out with you, so I assume he never got past his first drink.”
“Oh.” Of course. She should have figured that one out herself. You couldn’t actively play and drink at Surreal. It was a club rule and why she’d had the tequila before she came. It didn’t matter. Ben could have taken the blonde outside the club to fuck her in the limo. Probably would have.
Max was a family friend, and normally she’d give him a hug, but at the moment he was too male, too virile, and her clothes were too scanty, even though she’d donned the thin tunic top. Before then, he’d made a superhuman effort not to be caught staring at her overflowing breasts. She didn’t really mind that, but if those strong male arms surrounded her in a hug, she was either going to cry all over his shirt or take a swing at him.
She opted for a cordial nod. She was going to make it all the way to her bedroom with quiet dignity.
When she slipped in the door, she stood in the darkened foyer, staring down the hallway toward the light of the kitchen and sitting room areas. She listened to the women’s laughter, women who were submissives of varying degrees to strong Masters. Masters who were bonded to Ben in an exceptional pack relationship that included these women. But not her.
She needed to go upstairs, go to her room, take a hot shower. At least get out of these clothes, which now felt cheap, tawdry, ridiculous. No, they weren’t. She wouldn’t let him make her feel like that. The outfit was damn sexy, intended to get the big-ass cock of one stubborn, asshole lawyer rock-hard. It had done that, or her behavior had done that, because what he’d pressed against her had definitely qualified as a raging hard-on.
She leaned against the wall, taking a breath. Go upstairs. Go upstairs.
Instead, she found herself moving past the staircase. They were in the sunroom, and she could hear their warm voices, drawing her to them.
It had been surprising to see Savannah here, but her bed rest was taking it easy around the house, not actual confinement to a mattress. She’d probably wanted to get out for a little while and insisted on the event not being relocated to her home.
All of the women were with strong Doms, but part of that was because they were such strong personalities themselves. She could just imagine the sparks flying between the two CEOs, but Savannah was here. With a limo driver to ensure her safety. Matt had likely already called him three times. Rachel having a medical background probably helped ease his mind some, and no doubt Savannah had used that fact for leverage.
“Look at this catalog. A twenty-four-carat diamond bracelet for a baby? Are they out of their minds?” Savannah’s voice.
“The scary thing is I’m sure some idiot buys them,” Dana responded.
“Yes, so your baby can be mugged in her stroller. For the love of God, let’s stop looking at catalogs. I’m already addicted to the shopping networks.”
“You sound cranky. I think you need to play a relaxing game of Twister. Rachel can post the video feed on Facebook.”
“Give me her cane so I can beat her with it.”
Cass’ chuckle was dry. “You know that’s just foreplay to Dana.”
“Not if I beat her to death.”
How many years had she dreamed of being part of that inner circle? Laughing, listening, knowing she was part of something incredibly special. Knowing she was meant to be part of it.
Maybe in the end, she was just a dumb fucking kid who had no clue. Maybe Ben O’Callahan didn’t want her, and she’d made it all up in her head. The crush of a lonely teenager abandoned by her parents had evolved into the dysfunctional cliché of a delusional grown woman. That burning drive, the absolute certainty that she was meant to be with him, it had all been a dream. A little girl’s bullshit fantasy. The reason she refused to face the truth was it knocked the bottom out of her world, destroyed everything she thought she was, because so much of it had to do with her feelings for him.
The seeds of doubt she refused to let grow, but which had lurked in her subconscious from the first moment she’d believed she was meant to belong to Ben, now grew into a monster beanstalk that covered everything else. If it was truth, if she had to face it once and for all, she needed her big sister, the only real mother she’d ever known.
She paused in the doorway. She needed to turn around, retreat, because there was no way she could do this and not completely embarrass herself. The women were curled up in a variety of positions on the wicker furniture. Dana had her head on Rachel’s shoulder, grinning at something Cass was saying with expressive hands and a half-full glass of red wine. Savannah was on her side on the lounger, a pillow propped between her knees to support her belly as she listened. She was always the perfect ice princess, even in that position, her blonde hair in a smooth tail over her silk-clad shoulder, but her expression was relaxed in a way usually only seen in this company.
Early on, Marcie had figured out what piece of jewelry served as a “collar” to each woman, primarily because they always wore it to the tea parties, and each woman wore it for any gathering where work demands or other fashion etiquette didn’t make it inappropriate.
Savannah wore the delicate silver choker with rose quartz Matt had given her on their first anniversary. Cass had a pair of beaten silver cuff bracelets, etched with Japanese characters. She’d worn them at her marriage ceremony. Dana and Rachel’s collars could be mistaken for nothing else. Dana’s was a wide strap with a waterfall of decorative chains to soften it. The St. Christopher’s medallion that belonged to Peter was on the D-ring. Though it was her main collar, she sometimes alternated it with the more subtle jasper necklace with Peter’s dog tags that served the same purpose. Rachel’s reflected Jon’s exceptional design skills, made of sterling silver wire, bound at intervals by vertical supports made of gold, and embellished with a wire-wrapped sapphire pendant.
That, as well as the whole scenario, told Marcie the harsh truth. She didn’t belong here. Marcie took a step backward, but Rachel was the one facing the doorway. Her gaze lifted at the movement, and apparently she got a good look at her face.
“Cass,” she said, her serious tone bringing the conversation to a halt.
Cass twisted around. In the very next moment, she was up and moving. Marcie stood frozen, watching her come forward. Suddenly she was a little girl again, she couldn’t help it. Cass had always been there for her, the sister who’d become mother to them all, the one they all leaned upon when things became unbearable. Knowing that, seeing those keen blue eyes, the concerned set of her mouth, she couldn’t hold it together.
“I’m sorry,” she said brokenly. “I couldn’t…I needed you. All of you.”
I had an odd dream the other night. It was dark, I was running from something, but I ran smack into it. I screamed, but then it was gone and you were there, blocking the darkness. That wasn’t the weird thing about it, though—you know it’s not the first time I’ve dreamed about you when I get anxious about things. What was odd was that, this time, as I watched you stare out at that darkness, making sure it didn’t come closer to me, I thought: When he dreams of darkness, who saves him?
Letter from Marcie, first few weeks of college
I always want to be there for you, brat, but in your dreams, don’t you ever run. You stop and face that darkness, tell it to fuck off. Never let it drive you away from what you want. Once you show fear to something, it owns you. And yes, that’s also the answer to your question. Someone can save you from darkness once or twice, but only you can kick its ass and send it running.
Ben’s response
Chapter Twelve
The sobs burst out of her, everything she’d been trying to manage since it all started, all the pretense and bravado swept away on a violent tide. Her knees buckled, but Rachel was already there, helping Cass catch her. They let her fold down to the floor, Rachel stroking her hair as Cass closed Marcie in her arms, practically holding her in her lap.
“I’m sorry. He doesn’t want me…he hates me… I made him hate me.”
Cass’ hand whispered over her abraded wrist, then her gentle touch lifted her face, her thumb touching Marcie’s mouth. Something fierce and dangerous went through her sister’s expression. “Did he do this to your lip?”
“No.” Marcie shook her head hastily. “I hit it on the car when he shoved me against it.”
“Yeah, that’s loads better.” That tight comment came from Dana as she now crouched on the floor with Cass.
“We’ll worry about that in a moment,” Rachel said quietly. “Let’s get her to the other lounger, take a look at her. She’s not moving well.”
“Here, let her take this one. It’s longer, and I’ve warmed it up.” Savannah had made it to her feet, and was gesturing them to the six-foot-long couch.
Marcie tried to protest, but they were moving her over there. She was hobbling a bit. The level of pain from the CNC session had worked her over pretty good, and then she’d tightened up further during her argument with Ben. On top of that her knuckles hurt from hitting him. She’d used that same fist earlier in the day, and the security thug had a rib cage like a steel vault.