“How was the honeymooning?” Olivia asked. The wedding had been beautiful, with Josie escorted down the aisle by her grandaunt and her twelve-year-old son.
“Spain was amazing, and then Greece…” Josie patted her chest. “Oh my heart. We came back early enough to take Carson and his friends to Disney World for a long weekend.”
Olivia snickered. “A way to say I’m-sorry-we-abandoned-you-to-go-off-and-have-sex-in –exotic-places?”
“It so was. The trip to Disney World earned us all sorts of forgiveness.” Josie grinned. “It’s great to be back…well, mostly great. The club feels off, at least to me. I know Holt called y’all in, so what do you think?”
“I’m glad Holt called.” Olivia tapped her fingernails on the bar top in irritation. “The club has changed…and not in a good way.”
“Hey, look at the lez flirting with our bartender.” The voice came from the other side of the oval bar.
Another male voice. “She’s one of them muff divers, huh?”
Seriously? Olivia glanced over to see a batch of men. Late twenties to thirties, around her age. New members. White male Doms with attitudes. The kind of arseholes Z would never have let set foot in the Shadowlands.
And, bloody hell, the manager, Wrecker, stood with them. Tall, fair-skinned, and good-looking, he reminded her of a scheming politician. He was laughing at what his arsehole friend had said.
If the manager was a homophobe, no wonder prejudice was thriving.
She put her back to them and watched the people near the front trying to dance to the sucky music. Z had favored variety, from heavy metal to Gregorian chants, but during prime scene hours, there was always a solid rhythm to enjoy while flogging. Wrecker’s grindcore mixes and bands like Anal Cunt were worthless.
Turning away, she noticed, off to the left, three Doms surrounding a newer, young submissive. Trying to intimidate her.
Olivia jumped off her barstool and—stopped.
Already moving, Ghost pulled the submissive out of the circle, tucked her behind him, and turned on the three men. “Your behavior is unacceptable, a disgrace to Doms everywhere. I don’t know what rock you were raised under, but in the Shadowlands, everyone”—the Colonel’s dark rasp sounded like the wrath of God—“everyone is treated with respect. If you pull this kind of stunt again, I’ll wipe the floor with your asses before I throw you out the door.”
“Shit, what’s the old bastard doing?” came from Wrecker. The manager hurried over to the group. “Ghost, what the fuck? They were only having some fun. You’re not a DM; you’re just a—”
“Just a Master of this club, which gives me an even higher authority than a dungeon monitor.” The Colonel directed a pointed stare at Wrecker and the Doms. “Along with the obligation to correct behavior that goes against the club’s rules.”
Olivia winced. He was right. As a Mistress, she held the same responsibility. Rather than ignoring verbal abuse, she should have dealt with it, whether or not the manager was involved. If the arseholes spoke so insultingly to a Mistress, they’d undoubtedly been even nastier to untitled members. Other lesbians and gays might be more fragile. She’d been a bloody coward.
I’ll do better.
With a low curse, Wrecker stomped away, steaming from the ears. Two of the Doms retreated quickly.
One didn’t. The one who resembled—and acted—like an aggressive ape stood with his hands in fists.
Bad choice, you muppet.
Ghost moved like British SAS operators did. The younger Dom might manage to land a punch or even two, but then Ghost would put the arsehole in hospital—or a grave.
Apparently making the same calculation, the Dom said something ugly and retreated.
Ghost put his arm around the submissive and led her toward a sitting area.
The young woman had tears in her eyes, and Olivia’s heart ached. That’s how Natalia had looked when Olivia sent her away.
And no matter how deceiving and lying the little submissive had been, Olivia missed her with all her heart.
Okay, she could do this, Valerie thought. Really. I’m not some teen who can’t go anywhere without a bunch of friends.
Off in the distance, thunder rumbled over the Gulf. Rain was coming, and the air was hot and humid. Valerie pushed her damp hair off her neck. She’d left it down because…well, her dark-honey blonde, shoulder-length hair was one of her best features.
As she walked up the sidewalk from the parking lot, she felt as if she’d forgotten her purse. But she hadn’t. Using common sense, she’d locked it in the trunk. Her car keys and ID were in her pockets…and why she’d worn jeans.