What she was, was in a state.
And even her, Amélie Hélène Strand, Mistress of pretty much everything, she couldn’t pull herself out of that state.
This was too important.
Olivier Hawkes was way too important.
“See you, as in, out on a date,” she explained.
She watched his relaxed look melt into confusion before it changed to something else and it felt like a slap in the face when he tipped his head back and burst into loud laughter.
His uncontrolled laughter was always lovely to hear. In fact, it was beautiful.
Or it was on any other occasion but that.
She didn’t see what was funny.
“Is something amusing?” she asked.
He did not read her tone.
But he did turn his attention to her, doing it still laughing, and also laughing, he asked, “Wasn’t it you I fucked on the couch?”
“It was,” she confirmed.
He looked away, now only chuckling, through which he said, “You wanna date, Leigh, I’ll date.” Before he muttered into the coffee cup he’d raised to his lips and unfortunately didn’t stop speaking. “Lookin’ forward to what you come up with on a date.”
At that, Amélie experienced the intensely painful feeling of all her innards compressing into a hard, fiery-hot ball.
What you come up with on a date.
He was not talking about interesting conversation and getting to know her better.
She turned her attention to the road.
“Leigh?” he called.
“Yes,” she said to the road.
“Baby.” His tone had changed considerably but Amélie was too busy feeling that hard ball burning in the pit of her stomach and wondering how long it would take for the flame to go out.
She also wondered if it ever would.
“I miss something?” he finished on a query.
“No,” she answered and then looked at him. “I believe it was me who missed something.”
“Sorry?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she mumbled. Leaning forward in her chair, she started to tidy their plates, going on, “We should tidy up and then perhaps you’d like to go with me to take the horses out for a ride before you—”
Both of her hands stopped moving even though he only caught one of her wrists.
He did this saying, “Hey, whoa. What just happened?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Release my wrist, if you would, please, Olivier.”
He didn’t release her wrist.
His eyes narrowed and he said in a strangely dangerous voice, “Olivier?”
“That’s your name,” Amélie remarked.
“You bein’ my Mistress now?” he asked.
“No, I’m asking you to let me go.”
“And I’ll let you go when you tell me why you just completely shut down on me.”
“How about we make a deal and you release me then I’ll share where things are with us and after that, you can decide if you’d like to stay or if you’d like to go.”
The danger she’d heard in his voice filled his face and Amélie felt a bizarre hint of fear.
“Where things are with us?” he queried softly.
She ignored the fear and inquired, “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
He let go of her wrist but leaned into her aggressively, invading her space. “Are you gonna stop actin’ like a bitch all of a sudden and tell me what the fuck just happened?”
The pain subsided but only because his words snagged at her temper.
“Do not call me a bitch,” she hissed.
His narrowed eyes sparked fury she should have taken note of.
She very, very much should have taken note of it.
For she knew intimately how Olly allowed his temper to blow.
But she didn’t take note of it before he threw up a hand and exploded, “Jesus Christ, talk to me.”
She turned more fully to him and he shifted back but an inch while she did it.
Other than that, he didn’t move.
“All right, Olivier, you’ve been very forthcoming this weekend so I’ll share a few things with you too,” she said to begin and didn’t hesitate to continue. “Unfortunately, I read certain things wrong and I had hoped that this weekend, we’d discuss where this is going.”
“This?” he bit out.
“Us,” she snapped, doing so watching him lift his brows, his chin jerking back slightly, doing a slow blink. “You’ve just given me indication what this is to you and, as I said, I read certain things wrong and I’ll share I find that disappointing. I had hoped to discuss having more with you, outside the club and…”
She shook her head vaguely, using her anger to fight that ball of fire that had seemed tiny but felt like it was growing.
She allowed her eyes to slide to the house to make her point before they moved back to him and she went on.
“Other places. You’ve just made it clear where we stand, and although I’d hoped for something different, something more, at least I now know where we stand.”
As she spoke, the anger dissolved from his features as understanding set in but that ball was growing far too swiftly for Amélie to care.
It was imperative she fight back the pain before it consumed her.
“Now,” she turned again to the table, beginning to reach out to plates, “as that’s where we stand—”
“Baby,” he called in a low, soothing, sweet tone that could beat back any blaze if a woman was open to hearing it.
Unfortunately, Amélie felt new things sparking from that ball of pain. Not just anger and despair but humiliation.
She didn’t grab on to that first plate before she had his hand curled around the back of her neck and he used it to force her attention to him.
“Olivier—”
“Okay, Leigh-Leigh, seems a little bit ago, I didn’t get where you were comin’ from and reacted wrong. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His hand at her neck gave her a squeeze. “But in my defense, you were talkin’ about wantin’ to go out on a date and, Leigh,” he shifted closer, “I just spent the weekend at your house. I know every inch of you and you know the same about me. A date was not what I was thinkin’ our chat was about. Hell, I didn’t even know we’d started our chat. I thought it was you bein’ cute, as you can be, and I’ve told you that. And it is cute, you wantin’ to go on a date.”
All the first was good.
The last was not the same.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand how it’s cute,” she noted sharply.
His lips tipped up in a careful grin. “It’s cute because we’re beyond dating, Leigh. You wanna go out, I’ll take you out. We’ll eat. We’ll drink. We’ll go to your place in the city, or mine, make love.” His smile deepened. “And if we’re at your place, I’ll try to survive the night ’cause I’ve seen that urchin lurking in there once, but she’s got a death wish for me if her trying to suffocate me while I’m asleep is any indication. So, I’m happy to take you out, but we’re beyond dating.”
“I wasn’t being cute, Olivier,” she retorted.
“I’m getting that,” he muttered.
She needed distance from him. She needed to gather her wits. She needed to think.
And she needed all that before they continued talking.
But even as she put pressure on her neck, indicating quite clearly she wished him to let her go, he held her secure.
Amélie did not like that.
Therefore, she requested tartly, “Could you please take your hand off me?”
His eyes narrowed again even as his fingers curled in deeper.
“Are you hearing me?” he asked.
“I heard you, I’d still like you to release me.”
He didn’t let her go.
He growled, “I got a feeling you’re listening but you’re not hearing me.”
“I said I heard you,” she retorted.
“And I can see just l
ookin’ at your face you fuckin’ did not.”
She pulled at his hand harder and snapped, “I won’t ask again, Olivier, take your damned hand off me.”
He tugged her an inch forward. It wasn’t gentle, it didn’t hurt, what it did was make her go alert as the anger again flared in his gaze.
“So Mistress Amélie’s got a bite,” he clipped. “Good to know.”
“I don’t want you touching me,” she clipped back.
He let her go so abruptly, her torso shot back half a foot.
“Yeah,” he stated, not just anger in his blue eyes that had gone midnight. Now it was fury. “Good to know.”
“What?” she bit out.
“This whole gig.” He swept up a hand between them to indicate her. “The jeans. The tee. The courtyard facing a dusty road. Cinnamon rolls from a tube. All that’s a big fake. Mistress Amélie in jeans or in heels with her horses and her ranch in the mountains and her shit ton of money is right up on that pedestal, not about to climb down. And you best be on your knees, preferably with your pants pulled down, looking up, gagging for it, because that’s the only way she wants you.”
On that, her torso swung back another half a foot.
“That’s an incredibly insulting thing to say,” she hissed.
“Yeah? Truth hurts?”
What he said hurt but it was far from the truth.
“If you think that of me, then—”
“I didn’t, baby, you had me fooled.” He shook his head but didn’t stop talking. “Came up here, rarin’ to go. Ready to set whatever I had to set aside to look to the future with you, even put my tail between my legs, figuratively and, it would turn out, literally,” he sniped, “willin’ to do whatever to give it a go with you.”
Suddenly, that ball in her belly grew spikes and twisted, tearing through flesh.
“To give it a go with me?” she asked, her voice sounding choked.
He ignored her and continued on his bent.
“But sometimes, shit comes out early, even if it’s still too late. That said, good to know you get pissed, you hold on, close down, get uppity, showin’ your true nature and that would be you not letting anything fuckin’ in because this is Amélie’s world, we all just live in it with her, including me.”
Another blow and the ball tore the other way.
“Olly—”
“I’m a firefighter,” he ground out.
Amélie blinked in surprise, not only at receiving this astonishing information but also his swift declaration of it at this juncture in their discussion.
He mistook her response.
“Yeah, baby, you’ve been slummin’, jackin’ the shit of a scholarship. Still cut deep, what Weathers made me pay to join that club, but it was a fraction of what you pay. What the others pay. I’d never get in the door if he didn’t give me a discount. Works in his favor to do that, though. I see that. New meat for his Mistresses to play with. So even if it didn’t come out early, good for you it’s not too late.” He jerked his head to her house. “Don’t got some shit-hot job that pays me a fortune to get you another house, another Mercedes. Fuck, I probably couldn’t even afford to buy you one of your pairs of shoes. Definitely not take care of you in any way you couldn’t do it yourself if we had a future that went the distance and we made a life together. Kids. College tuition?” He shrugged. “Leigh’s got it covered. We have a daughter and she wants a big wedding?” Another shrug. “Not a problem. You’ll fly her to Paris to have her gown custom made.”
Kids.
A daughter?
Her torso caught fire.
“Please, Olly—” she tried.
But failed.
As he had when he lost his temper before, he didn’t let her get but two words in and he didn’t hear either of them, even though he was angry, it seemed, because he thought she hadn’t heard his.
He kept seething.
“My guess, you got my face shoved in that sweet pussy of yours, pants around my thighs, it’s all the same to you. But heads-up, I’m not a keeper for a woman like you. Depending on where you’d wanna go for our date, babe, not sure who’d be payin’ for it, but it might be somethin’ I’d have to cut back on gas for a month so I could afford it.”
“You really need to stop talking,” she whispered, anger, but mostly hurt scoring her soft tone.
“Yeah.” He stood. “Actually, I do.”
On that, he turned on his boot and stormed into the house.
Amélie took in one deep breath and followed it with another.
Yes, she thought, I really should have taken note when Olly started to get angry.
On that thought, she got up and hurried after him.
She found him in her bedroom, his bag on the bed, him shoving in clothes.
“Olly—”
“Olly, now,” he muttered to his bag. “No more Olivier she can bring to heel. Her toy’s ready to leave early, taking away her fun, she turns on the sweet.”
And that ball of pain scored another path of agony through the inferno it had already created.
“You’ve said a number of hurtful things, sweetheart, please take a moment to take a breath so you don’t say anything further that will cause more damage.”
He didn’t say anything, just shoved a pair of jeans into his bag.
She kept going.
“You’ve got an explosive temper and—”
His head shot up. “And yours?” He gave a fake shudder that was actually quite impressive. “Ice-cold.”
Although this was true and he had a point, his response to her shutting down, in her opinion, was not deserved.
That said, she didn’t think it was wise in that moment to get into debating their different reactions.
She had to get through to him, calm him down, at the very least to civility so they could discuss things that were crucial, it seemed, to both of their future happiness.
Amélie kept trying.
“What I’m saying is that we got started out on the wrong foot. We should collect ourselves and—”
He hefted up the bag and again interrupted her, “I’ve collected all I need.”
Panic set in and Amélie shifted positions to bar the door and she did that quickly talking.
“I think there’s a great deal at play here, for both of us, especially you. You have some—”
He was making his way toward her as she spoke but he stopped in front of her and cut her off.
“What I got is a desire to get the fuck out of here, Leigh. So get out of my way.”
She looked up into his angry face. “I’d like you to stay and calm down so we can talk.”
“Tried that,” he bit off. “Didn’t know where you were leading when you started, fucked up. I apologized, you didn’t let it go. Got your Olivier thrown at me like you could bring me to heel. Yeah, you get me off with that shit and I don’t gotta tell you that. You know. But that’s not all there is to me, that wouldn’t be all I want to us, and straight up, Leigh, it’s not a future I’d dig having. Livin’ in your nice houses, you buyin’ me cars for my birthday, horses in your stable, only thing I got to give is lettin’ you tie me to the bed, ass in the air so you can jack it. You get pissed, it’s Olivier and I’m on my knees with my face shoved in your pussy.”
“That’s not what I meant when I called you that, Olly,” she whispered.
“So it’s me who fucked up again and you weren’t closing down on me?”
“I was but I’d like to explain and then maybe we can explore all you’re saying because it seems there’s a good deal you’re struggling with and I’d like—”
“No, actually, this scene, not strugglin’ with dick. Again, you’ve made it crystal.”
Amélie closed her mouth.
He stared down at her and she saw something in the backs of his eyes but there was no chance she had to read it since her focus was on beating back the pain.
“You gonna get out of my way?” he ground out.
She stepped as
ide.
He stalked out of her room.
Amélie stood looking for a moment at the mussed bed they’d woken up in in their warm, lovely cocoon before she turned and followed him.
Not to the door.
To a window that faced the drive.
She stood in it and stared out it, watching him round the drive, his truck kicking up gravel and dust and it kept doing that all the way down the lane.
She felt Stasia winding around her ankles but Amélie didn’t tear her gaze away from the window.
Olly’s truck still left a trail of dust once he hit the road and drove away.
And Amélie stood there even after he was long gone because she was unable to move.
That thing inside her exploded, obliterating everything it could reach.
But she was Amélie Hélène Strand so she remained standing.
Still, it took some time.
But eventually she felt the wetness as it coursed down her cheeks.
eighteen
Bitch of a Mistress
AMÉLIE
Two days later, Amélie moved through the front doors of the Honey, having done this too many times to count but doing it then feeling strange for two reasons.
The first, she didn’t expect she’d come there again.
Perhaps it was melodramatic to think that “again” was forever. But at least for some time.
A long time.
Years.
Decades.
The second, she’d never been there at that time of day.
It was ten-thirty in the morning.
Unless a member made a special request, they weren’t normally open for business at that time. But Aryas had phoned and asked her to come in and talk about something “important.”
Although Amélie had shared just the day before with Mirabelle that things had not gone well with Olly during their weekend and that she would likely not be going to the club for some time, Aryas wouldn’t know that. This was because, at her request, Mira had sworn she’d not breathe a word and Amélie trusted to her soul her friend wouldn’t.
So she couldn’t imagine anything “important” Aryas would have to talk to her about.
And he’d sounded short, and irate, though not being in his presence she could not know if these were aimed at her.