Lesson In Honesty (Club Serenity #3)

Chapter Eight

Liam

A week after the hottest night of sex they’d had in a long time, Liam couldn’t get the memory of it out of his head. Not because he regretted it—far from it. What they’d done together as a team not only established a tightly meshed bond between him, Sierra, and Mack, but created a strangely affectionate friendship with Grit and Tabitha.

The assassin was spending an inordinate amount of time with Sierra, even going so far as to sit watching her mend stuffie after stuffie when Grit was busy with the security side of the club.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing, he mused. Between Mack’s devoted attention and Tabitha’s almost constant presence, Liam didn’t have to worry about someone getting close enough to hurt his sub.

Mack was turning out to be the perfect addition to the dynamic. He adored Sierra, and it wasn’t just a vacation fling kind of interest. As his time at the club slipped away day by day, he didn’t hunt down single subs to play with in his spare time. He practically lived in their cabin, waking in the morning on the other side of the bed to Liam, with Sierra snuggled happily between them.

They ate together, watched stupid cable movies and obsolete TV shows, curling up on the couch with the fire blazing in the hearth once Liam finished his shift.

Frankly, it was crazy how quickly Mack settled into their routine. Almost seamlessly, as though he’d been with them years instead of just one week. Despite having no Daddy experience—much like Liam—he handled Sierra’s tantrums with infinite patience, regardless of whether she was in Little space or not.

The minx was alternating frequently between her two states of mind, often giving her Doms a sense of whiplash when she switched.

Things in general were good, he thought, but he couldn’t ditch the feeling that she was just waiting to drop a bombshell on him. He knew she was pissed at him for giving Mack the green light during the scene, just as he knew she wasn’t a sub who would sacrifice her body to please her Dom if she truly felt she was in danger of physical harm.

Well, not any longer.

The days of letting Wyatt… no, no, he wasn’t going down that alley again. It still boiled his blood that she’d been so fucking lonely, she’d given Wyatt free rein to debase her over and over again just to feel close to someone. Yeah, she’d thought she loved him and that he reciprocated that love, but even when it was clear he hadn’t, she’d still allowed him to take from her.

Some days, Liam wished he could have a few more minutes with him, for several reasons.

Hug him. Punch the fucker out. Thank him for the sacrifice he’d made in saving Zeke. Verbally annihilate him for every hell he’d put Sierra through over the years.

The list was long and a study in contradictions, much like their relationship.

“Liam.” Someone whistled, snagging his attention back to the job at hand. “Dude, are you gonna lift your end or let me drag this heavy sucker by myself?”

Blinking, Liam snapped free of his reverie and looked down at the sturdily-built table sitting between him and Fordham. “Shit. Mind wandered, sorry.”

“It’s been doing that a lot this week. What?” Ford asked casually. “A few people have commented that you seem… not distracted as such, but a little off-kilter. Is the new guy not integrating as well as you hoped?”

Hefting his end of the table, Liam laughed. It sounded hollow to his ears, so God only knew what Ford read into it. “Actually, he’s been a godsend. Sierra adores him, he’s attentive and swings into whatever role she needs at the time. I like him; I think he’s a good man who needs us as much as we need him.”

Ford picked up his end, and they started carrying the table over to what had been the storage area. “The sex is satisfactory?”

“That’s crashed and burned. The scene we did with Grit and Tabitha was hot as fuck. I have to admit, I thought I’d be jealous watching another guy—a stranger—fuck my sub, but it was enlightening.” Liam grinned. “Despite the numbing lube, she’s been sore. Mack’s got a bit more girth than I have.”

“Is that a boner of contention?”

Ignoring his friend’s pun, Liam shook his head. “He’s got what he’s got. I’m not threatened by him, and he doesn’t seem the type to throw it around and brag.” He hissed between his teeth as his knuckles caught the doorjamb. “Honestly, I think this week has been good for us all. No sex, just learning about each other and remembering how to function as a trio instead of a couple.”

“So overall, it’s going well.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm-hmm. What’s with all the pensive shit, then?”

It wasn’t difficult to trust the rope master with his secrets. Fordham was already gaining a reputation at the club as a bit of a loner. That wasn’t to say he didn’t pull his weight—he tended to his DM duties diligently, stepped in to aid and teach when he saw someone struggling, and didn’t discriminate in his choice of sub for demonstrations.

Outside of the official boundaries of his duty, however, he was proving to be very selective with whom he spent his time.

“I’m wondering how hard he’s going to break Sierra’s heart in three weeks’ time when he goes home. Whether it’s kinder to put an end to it now before, fuck, we all go down with the ship.”

Ford dropped the table with a loud thud , shaking his head as Liam was forced to release his end. “You make it sound as though you’re all going to be madly in love and completely inseparable in a month. Come on, Liam, life isn’t a romance novel.”

Oh, if only he knew, Liam thought. “If it’s not, it’s only because we’re blind to what’s in front of us when it’s offered. I met Sierra on a cold night on the porch of Avalon. Wyatt dragged her along for company but wouldn’t let her come inside, he was that embarrassed by her. The moment she set her hand in mine, before I ever saw her face, I knew she was it for me.”

“Bullshit,” his friend scoffed.

“I knew,” Liam repeated, unoffended. “Part of her clicked with an empty part of me. I would’ve protected her, defended her, regardless. But she held my hand and I was ready to dismantle Wyatt piece by piece to stake my claim on her.”

They shuffled the table where it needed to go, inch by inch. Maybe he should have selected a lighter, more manageable piece, but Liam understood how much weight it needed to support, and Sierra’s safety came first above all else.

“All right, let’s agree for argument’s sake that true love or instantaneous love—whatever you want to call it—existed for you in that moment. Why doesn’t it work that way for everyone? I’ve never heard…” He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Liam, instant lust, yes. Love, no.”

Liam perched his hip on the edge of the wood and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Ever been to Phoenix, Ford?”

“A few times, for business.”

“Never visited a club or two?”

“I’ve never been to Avalon, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Following Liam’s example, he hopped up on the table. “Are you homesick, is that the issue?”

“I miss my friends,” Liam admitted. “I don’t think I’ve told you about them, have I?”

“No.”

“Let me fill you in. Braun and Bodie. My boss and my best friend. She was Braun’s before he laid a hand on her. Jasper and Anarchy—she loved him the moment she saw him and every single one between then and the day he finally came to his senses.” Smirking, he glanced at Ford. “Connie and Thane—he was smitten as soon as he saw her. Same with Atticus and Alicia—he didn’t give a fuck she was disabled, he just didn’t dare act on what he felt because she was Bodie’s baby sister. Saul and Caera were set up by Connie. Sierra and I were an accident. Loki and Myna met through fate; Zeke and Olivia through intimate circumstances.”

“All of them experienced this magical insta-love?”

“Maybe it wasn’t recognized as love, but they felt it nonetheless.”

“Hmmm, and you’re a mind reader who knows what they felt, right?”

Swinging his arm out, Liam thumped him on the arm. “Unlike certain unsociable assholes I can name, we’re a family unit. We talk, we figure out problems, we communicate. There are no secrets—none that remain so for long, anyway.”

“Sounds like hell,” Ford muttered.

“As one of those unsociable assholes, yes, I imagine it would be for you.” Yet again, Liam wondered what secrets the dark Dom was hiding; he had some, it was obvious, and Liam was willing to bet it had something to do with Callie.

The chemistry between them wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either.

“My unsociability comes from not wanting to be social with assholes.” Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, Ford sighed and slanted a look at him. “Are you hoping Mack will stay here with you, or thinking about moving back to wherever he’s from?”

The plan was always to go back to Phoenix when—if—the strife surrounding Sierra dissipated. While the move had been stressful, not to mention the run up to it, he’d been praying for a miracle.

Mack was making life easier, more exciting, more worthwhile in so many respects. He didn’t bitch, complain, or whine. It didn’t matter if Liam came home in a mood after dealing with entitled pricks all evening or Sierra was having a meltdown because her Little was cranky and tired; Mack just stepped into the fray and calmed the situation down with jokes and sparkling wit.

Nothing fucking fazed him.

If he really was the missing piece in the crazy jigsaw of Liam and Sierra’s world, there were some complex and painful decisions coming in the near future.

Liam didn’t know what was the right path—did he stick with the past and return to Phoenix and the family waiting for their missing pieces to come home? Could he choose the present, building a life here for Sierra in Denver? Or was the only real option to follow Mack into the future, wherever that might be?

“I don’t know,” Liam said honestly. “There are too many balls in the air. Catch one, drop another. At the end of the day, it’s not solely my call. Three people are involved in this; three opinions need to be heard.”

“Well, it’ll be what it’ll be. Maybe think about sharing all those damn balls with everyone who holds a stake in what comes next; more hands means a better chance of catching them all.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s all I can—” Breaking off at the sound of wheels rumbling along the floor, Liam straightened. “I think that’ll be the finishing touches.”

Sure enough, the small team of four guys he’d borrowed from the maintenance crew were heading across the Nursery. Two were pushing a rolling table heavily laden with Sierra’s equipment from the cabin, while another held on to said equipment like his life depended on it—which it did.

If anything broke, Sierra would kill Liam.

Behind them, the fourth man followed, pulling a large metal bin on wheels. The mountain of stuffies inside wobbled and jiggled in various states of disrepair; Liam didn’t know where the hell Elias managed to find them all, but there were enough to keep Sierra busy for months.

“Thanks, guys. Matt, the stuffies need to go over in that corner.” Liam pointed to the space he’d reserved for the bin. As it rumbled in that direction, he turned to the other three. “The boxes of thread, sewing stuff, whatever the hell, need stacking on those shelves please. Ford and I have got the machines.”

“Oh, have we now?” Ford murmured, sliding off the table.

Sierra’s original sewing machine was at the bottom of the pile, but Evander and Eli had treated her to some new toys. Apparently Callie had been sent in to do some recon during a playdate, sneakily ferreting out which machines would make Sierra’s job easier and which ones she coveted.

Rather than unpacking them, Liam arranged the boxes artfully on one side of the table, adding the gold-and-red bow and envelope from the trio, as Ford hoisted the sewing machine onto the other side.

“Thanks, guys, couldn’t have done it without you.” Liam shook the hands of each maintenance guy, slipping them each a tip as they left. When it was just Ford and him alone, he exhaled slowly and turned to check everything one final time before sending a volley of texts.

“She never officially said yes to this, did she?” Ford asked.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Mmm-hmm, so are we expecting fireworks? Tears, fists, maybe some flying objects? Just so I know whether to duck and cover,” he said with a shrug and an amused smirk.

Honestly, Liam wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Throwing things was probably not in her arsenal; tears and a panic-induced temper tantrum were a distinct possibility. Sierra was not a fan of change, no matter how well-intended.

This was a huge step in a positive direction, yet it was inevitable she’d fight it on principle.

“She’ll cry,” he predicted. “She might try and run, find somewhere to hide and process it all. Gifts make her feel undeserving; grand gestures scare the shit out of her.”

“Her self-esteem is that low?”

Liam smiled ruefully. “Not for lack of trying to boost it. We gain an inch, maybe two, then something trips in that smart brain and we lose it all. It doesn’t help that we can’t get pregnant. She’s tied her whole worth into her ability to be a mom.”

Ford patted him on the back. “Did you bring up fostering again? Adoption?”

“No. I want her to settle here, relax, before we start digging up the hard issues. She understands the merits of both options, but her heart is set on having her own. It doesn’t help that all our friends in Phoenix keep popping kids out faster than rabbits.”

“Shit. How to make a woman feel ineffective without saying a word. I assume you’ve both been tested? For fertility and whatever else.”

God, hadn’t that been fun? Jacking off into a cup while wondering if he was the cause of his girl’s constant distress. Trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix it if he was the source of their failure. “Several times. Sperm is fine—better than fine—and more than capable of doing the job. Poor Sierra went through the wringer; they tested everything, did physical exams, scans, blood tests. Having polycystic ovaries isn’t helping, but the doctors aren’t convinced that’s the issue.”

“A friend of mine had trouble conceiving with his wife. I asked him if he had any advice that might help you, and he wanted to know if Sierra has had a saliva test? What the hell did he say they tested that for?” Ford muttered under his breath, then cursed and pulled out his phone. Scrolling down with his thumb, he grunted. “Alpha-amylase. Does that sound familiar?”

That wasn’t ringing any bells. Shaking his head, Liam asked, “What’s that?”

“Hang on, it’s here somewhere… uh, it’s a stress marker, an enzyme. Alex says their doctor advised that women with higher levels can take up to twenty-nine percent longer to get pregnant.” He glanced up from the screen. “Might be worth trying. At least a saliva test isn’t intrusive like all the other stuff.”

That was true. He could only take seeing his minx being poked and prodded for so long before his protective instincts kicked in. He hated how she suffered silently through the examinations, bottling her discomfort and embarrassment because hope, ever dwindling, kept the dream alive.

“Can you forward me that message? I’ll make an appointment next week.”

“Already done.” As voices drew closer, Ford tilted his head. Resignation sagged his shoulders as Callie’s voice babbled with delight. “Maybe I should go. This should be a private moment of celebration between you six.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what set this wedge between you and Callie?”

“Wedge? It’s a fucking chasm.” His shrug wasn’t as nonchalant as Liam suspected it was supposed to be. “Not my story to tell. Callie tolerates me and I respect her need for space.”

“Did something happen between you?”

“No. Bad history between her and someone from my past.” Sadness flickered, then slipped beneath an impenetrable mask as Callie skipped in, dragging her Daddies by the hand.

Bad history was an understatement, Liam thought, as she skidded to a stop and stared at Fordham for several interminably long seconds. Color seeped from her face until she was ashen, her body going rigid with shock before she collected herself and plastered a fake sunny smile back into place.

“Master Fordham,” she murmured, then glanced at Liam. “Master Liam.”

“Callie. Eli, Van.” Liam decided to take the pressure off the nervous woman, gesturing around the newly built workshop. “This is amazing, thank you. I’m telling you that now in case Sierra forgets in all the… excitement.”

Evander glanced around. “A worthy investment. One we’re happy to offer.”

“We’re looking forward to seeing what she does with it,” Elias rumbled as Callie squirmed under his arm. “It adds the missing piece to the Little empire. I think Callie’s desperate to add to her stuffie collection from whatever Sierra sets on display.”

Liam studied the row of shelves positioned behind the counter. They’d chosen cotton candy pink for the paint on the walls, white for the shelving. Each shelf was a different width to accommodate the largest stuffie down to the smallest. “She’s probably got enough stuffies already fixed to fill that unit.”

Callie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really.” Liam’s phone dinged with a text; he check it, swore, and ran a hand through his hair. “All right, showtime in five minutes. Ford, can we get the curtain up?”

“Are you sure you want to surprise her?”

“Not really.” He knew she wasn’t fond of surprises, even good ones. “No, you’re right. Springing it on her that way pretty much guarantees she’ll run.”

“We’re going for casual, then?”

That was the better way, Liam thought. No one standing on ceremony, just friends gathering round for a chat. “Simple. Let’s just do simple and pray she handles it well.”

“We won’t be offended if she doesn’t,” Evander said softly. “We understand what it’s like to have a woman in our life who objects to sudden, shocking changes. If it’s taught us anything, it’s patience.”

Patience was all well and good, but sometimes shackles and a length of chain worked just as well. Before he could reply, he heard the sweet song of Sierra’s voice from the front doors.

“Why are we here? I thought we were meeting Liam at the bar? He said I wasn’t allowed to play in the Nursery.”

Oh, she was a good girl. He had indeed told her that, to keep her away from the ongoing construction over the last few days as the crew added the finishing touches. It pleased him immensely that she was honest with Mack about his orders, even though the other Dom was well aware.

“Trust me, pixie. You’re not going to be in trouble.”

“If I am, I’m throwing you to the wolf,” she snarked, obviously in an adult frame of mind. “My ass is off-limits for the foreseeable future thanks to you and that… that monster of yours.”

Liam smirked. How would Mack handle her attitude?

A laugh, loud and thoroughly amused, echoed through the barn. “Say that again when your eyes aren’t on my cock and you’re not drooling, pixie.”

Yeah, that was exactly the way to handle her, Liam thought with approval. He imagined she was spluttering, flushed to the roots of her hair, and frantically trying to come up with some clever retort that didn’t land her in more trouble.

“I am not drooling,” came her indignant reply.

“But your eyes are still on my crotch.”

“They are not .” God, was she stomping her foot yet?

“Behave or I’ll tell Liam where you’ve been stashing candy.”

An outraged gasp. “For one, I don’t stash candy anywhere. It lives in the cupboard by the window. Two, if I did stash any in case of, y’know, emergencies, you wouldn’t know where I hid it!”

They were getting closer, but Liam wished they’d slow down. He loved the camaraderie between them, how Sierra interacted with Mack and vice versa. She’d been shy at first, but once she recovered from the scene, a great many of her internal barricades had tumbled.

After only a week, Mack was firmly integrated into their relationship, and he was a comfortable fit. He wielded compassion with control, even if he was hesitant to do so—Liam didn’t know if he was afraid of stepping over a hidden line, or whether his lack of experience in a Dom-sub dynamic held him back.

No matter, he decided. The guy was learning quickly, letting Sierra have so much rope before he understood how she operated, how she reacted, how she needed to discover her own boundaries with someone new.

When Liam stole Sierra from under Wyatt’s nose, there’d been an imbalance. He’d been the outsider, even though the arrangement they had was little more than Wyatt using her as a living fleshlight. They’d had history, a lot of it, and Liam unraveled the tangled web of it as he went.

It helped now that Mack actually found Sierra attractive. It wasn’t something that could be faked—Wyatt had tried and failed. He’d wanted to be a Dom, yet was submissive to the right person. His frustration had been taken out on Sierra, which only proved how selfish he’d been.

“There’s a floorboard three steps away from your side of the bed,” Mack responded easily. “Creaks every time you step on it. That’s where you’re hiding the contraband.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“You have the worst poker face in history, pixie. When you step on it and it creaks, you drop your eyes down and write GUILTY in capital letters over your forehead.” Mack chuckled. “The other night when Liam got up to go to the bathroom and stepped on it, you nearly snapped your neck trying to see if he’d found it.”

“This is all hypothetical,” she said haughtily. “I admit to nothing.”

How nice was it to hear her coming out of her shell, to finally see some of her old self resurfacing? He could admit it eased the weight on his shoulders, the guilt of making her move away from everything they knew.

“So you won’t mind if I help myself to some of those Twizzlers then?”

“Touch them and they’ll never find your body.”

Liam lifted an eyebrow. Someone was feeling fierce today. “Please tell me you’re not threatening a Dom, minx. The club has a code of behavior; beating up Doms is definitely in the do not side of the handbook.”

Her eyes met his—the distance meant nothing. Twenty feet was reduced to six inches with just one look. Even as she ducked her chin and red heat stained her ears, cheeks, and throat, it felt like she was much closer.

“Master Liam.”

He beckoned her with a crook of his finger when she peeked at him; she came without hesitation. Well, until her eyes flicked past him to the colorful pink and white sign hanging over the counter window.

Her feet planted to the floor so fast, her upper body catapulted forward like a mannequin on a spring. Blinking, she stared at the letters. “Sierra’s Stuffie Sanctuary?”

He held out his hand, relieved when she inched forward to slide her fingers over his palm and cling. Tugging her in front of him, he curled his other arm around her waist. “This is what you deserve, minx. I know it, they know it,” he murmured, drawing her attention over to the small gathering in the doorway, “and you know it, though you’ll deny it. Take it, Sierra. Take it and make it yours.”

“I-I haven’t done anything to earn it.”

Liam closed his eyes and bent to press his cheek against hers. He loved it when the coarse hair of his beard tangled with the finer ones of hers; it was yet another connection, a unique one not many men got to share with their women. “Babygirl, you earn it every day you wake up and get out of bed. Every time you ignore the bullies and the cowards. But this isn’t something you have to earn—it’s a gift from the people who know and love you, who want to make you as happy as you make them.”

“Liam,” she whispered.

“No, Sierra. We’re not arguing about this—Daddy knows best.” Releasing her, he nudged her forward step by step toward the store. “Put your brave pants on, little girl, and go explore. I promise I’ll take them off you later with my teeth.”

She jerked, shooting him a shocked look over her shoulder. “My ass—”

He scowled. “Is mine. Your pussy is mine. No more excuses, Sierra. This afternoon is for you to play with your gift. Tonight, you’re going to be whatever Mack and I want you to be. Is that clear?”

A slow nod. “Yes, Daddy. Just not my ass, ‘kay?”

Mack snorted a laugh, teasing Liam’s lips into a reluctant grin. It seemed he was going to have to indulge himself with some gentle anal play to ease her back into surrendering more often. For too long, they’d sought solace in the company of each other and neglected the physical aspect of their relationship; now those barriers were down, he had no intention of letting her raise them again.

Kissing the shell of her ear, he whispered, “Wait until we both take you, minx. However we like. Pressed between us, feeling our heartbeats on both sides of you, our cocks possessing you for the simple reason that you’re ours .” When she moaned and shuddered, her thighs clenching together, he tapped her shoulder in a one-two-three rhythm and stepped back. “Go play, Sierra.”

She tottered forward unsteadily as Mack stepped up to stand beside him.

“Want me to cancel the dinner reservations?” he asked.

Liam nodded once. “We’ll get the restaurant to deliver. I think we’ll be hungry for something more appetizing than tortellini, don’t you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Sierra

Sierra’s Stuffie Sanctuary .

It was right there in pink and white, a cotton candy storefront with her name front and freaking center. The storage unit doors were gone, replaced with a wide wooden counter and window. An old-fashioned cash register, green and brass, sat on the left in contrast to the modern card reader beside it.

The counter was covered in a padded leather top—the same hunter green as the till. The rest of the dark wood was polished to a gleam, so the small spotlights above reflected their soft light.

More of those lights were aimed at the empty shelves behind the counter; shelves she could imagine her once broken and maimed stuffies sitting on, waiting for the right person to come along and offer them a home.

A lot like she’d been, she thought, when she huddled in the cold on Avalon’s porch, hoping Wyatt would come back before her bones were gnawed away by the chill. Wishing she was normal so she could go inside where it was warm, so people wouldn’t laugh and jeer at the freak in their midst.

Liam hadn’t cared; he’d loved her anyway.

Sierra drifted toward the holy grail, doubts tearing her apart. She longed for this place, she’d dreamed of being worthy enough to stand behind the counter and show off her wares, finding just the right stuffie for each person who came to her.

Reality, however, liked to gouge holes in her.

She fixed stuffies for God’s sake. Treated them like living pets—or worse, so much worse— children . How could anyone take her seriously when she let herself get sucked into the work until every stitch was vital, each wad of stuffing needing to be inserted just so , and the final product couldn’t be anything less than as perfect as she could make it.

Most Littles who came here already had beloved stuffies.

Was she really so na?ve to believe they’d see her previously rejected and abandoned misfits as anything more than recycled trash? Hell, she already donated dozens upon dozens to the local hospitals in Phoenix, and she had no idea if any of them found their place with the sick children.

Her shoulders sagged. Now she was just being ridiculous; the staff were always gracious when accepting the gifts, grateful for them. Not once had they given her the impression that her donations went anywhere other than where she intended.

“Don’t be sad!” Callie bounced over, latching her hands onto Sierra’s. “This is going to be so much fun! Daddy Vander already said I can buy many stuffies!”

“Any stuffie , Callie. As in one, not plural.”

Her eyes narrowed as she considered arguing with the massive blond Dom, then her expression sweetened to perfect innocence. “Sorry, Daddy, I must have heard you wrong.” She giggled, swinging their joined hands as she danced excitedly, then lowered her voice. “I has my own monies. I can buy as many stuffies as I wants.”

“We’re not deaf, Callie,” Elias pointed out sternly.

Something flickered behind her eyes, the gray darkening as her adult side woke and stretched. “I am an adult, Eli. If I want to buy a million stuffies with my own damn money, I will.”

Don’t fight. Please don’t fight.

Sierra stiffened, trying to tug free when Elias’s features hardened into a scary mask. Her heart vomited into her throat as he approached with the stealthy stalk of a predator on the hunt; Liam had that same talent, only Elias was a master at it.

Sadist with his chain snapped.

“An adult, hmmm?” British accent in full flow, he wrapped an elegant hand around his wife’s throat. “Well then, isn’t that a delightful coincidence? Van and I have been waiting for an opportunity to exploit our adult wife, haven’t we?”

Evander tilted his head in acknowledgement. “We have indeed.”

“Exploit how?”

Casually, he lifted his other hand. For a moment, Sierra thought he meant to strike the tiny woman held prisoner in his grasp. She braced to push herself between them, then felt her knees buckle when he simply turned his fingers into a cone, twisting his wrist back and forth, then scrunched them into a fist.

Eyes on her husband, Callie turned white. She turned an imploring gaze at Evander while her hand clenched viciously on Sierra’s. When she spoke, her voice was barely a croak. “No.”

Sierra’s gaze bounced from Dom to Dom. Evander’s expression softened slightly, yet Elias’s never faltered. They were completely in sync, like good cop, bad cop. Black and white, blond and dark, brutal and compassionate.

Yet even in his sadism, Elias showed his own brand of compassion in the gentle stroke of his thumb over the side of Callie’s throat. Caressing the pulse that was no doubt rabbiting under his control—Sierra was just grateful he couldn’t monitor her heartbeat the same way, because her heart was pounding in empathy for her friend.

“The only choice you’ve got is whose hand gets the honor, little one.”

Honestly, if Sierra was in Callie’s shoes right now, she’d be seriously contemplating tattooing her safeword on her forehead. What the hell kind of choice was that—Elias’s hands were big enough, but Evander’s were like grizzly bear paws.

Callie swallowed hard, hindered by the fingers, then smiled slowly. “Catch me again in a month or two, Eli. Deadline looming and all, I’m just not going to have time for a lengthy, complicated scene.”

“Your next deadline is in March, little fibber. That’s five months away.” Chuckling so darkly the sound seemed to originate from a haunted house at midnight, Eli kissed her viciously hard before releasing her. He bopped her on the nose with a fingertip. “We just added a round with my belt before the main event, little one.”

This time, Callie let go of Sierra and shoved her Dom with both hands. “No.”

Deciding moving quickly was her best method of escape, Sierra darted away from the suddenly black tension swarming around the couple like a thunderstorm bruising the sky.

Evander rolled his eyes and intercepted her. “Ignore those two. He knows mentioning his belt sets her off on a tangent and does it anyway. Why don’t I show you around your space and explain how we think it might run best?”

She nodded, wanting to escape the boiling emotions before they erupted and caught her up in the flood. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her Liam and Mack skirting around the argument, backing her up. “O-Okay.”

“Callie will be fine,” Evander assured her. “She has a safeword. Eli doesn’t usually push her to use it, although fisting and the belt might be enough to break her this time.” Stepping aside, he swept his arm toward the open door. “Welcome to your store, Sierra.”

The instant she stepped inside, Callie and Eli’s bickering no longer existed.

She yearned for what was in front of her; her fingers actively itched to get to work, to rummage through the huge bin of discarded stuffies her eyes immediately fell on. Her heart squeezed at the thought of so many unwanted, broken projects to make whole again.

The table in the middle of the room held her trusty workhorse and a small mountain of boxes containing a variety of equipment she’d only dreamed about using. Equipment that would make her job faster, more efficient, and save her fingers from a lot of pain.

The pink and white walls were lined with shelves and storage units. Boxes of buttons, zippers, clasps. More with ribbons of all colors, bows, beads, even sparkly diamantes. Narrow reams of material—so much material she wanted to unravel them and wrap herself in each one to test the softness against her skin.

Everything she could ever need was right here within reach.

“Y-You did all this for me?” she whispered, pressing a loose fist against the base of her throat where tears threatened to choke her.

Evander stepped up beside her, laying a light hand on her shoulder. “We said we wanted to make you happy, Sierra, for as long as you’re here. We can change anything you don’t like, and if there’s something we’ve missed, just say the word.”

It took her a second to realize her head was shaking of its own accord. Those damned tears rose to obscure the gift, blurring her vision. “No, it’s perfect. Everything’s perfect. I don’t d—”

“Want to finish that sentence,” he said in a lightly censuring tone. “Let us give you this, Sierra. A dedicated space for you to work in peace. Separate your home life from your job, and share your talent with those who’ll appreciate it most.”

Instinctively, Sierra whirled and flung her arms around him, dwarfed by the sheer size of him. She barely came up to his sternum, he was so freaking tall. “Thank you.”

An arm came around her back, his hand rubbing up and down her arm. “It’s our pleasure. Do you want us to give you some alone time so you can poke around, get acquainted with everything?”

Oh boy, did she ever. It felt rude to say yes, though.

Blowing out a slow breath, sucking the tears back in, she pulled back gently. “No. Thank you. I don’t… I’m not sure how this is going to work.”

“Here.” He rolled a chair from behind the door, stopping it in front of her. “Take a seat and I’ll explain. It’s not set in stone, so we can amend what doesn’t suit you, okay?”

Sierra eyed the chair. Brand new, adjustable. Beautiful black, supple leather. She was tempted to run her hands over the padded armrests, the headrest, to test just how soft and buttery it actually was, but she refrained.

No point looking like an idiot, drooling over a fancy chair.

Of course, she did just that as she sat slowly, moaning under her breath when the seat conformed to her ass, her back, her shoulders. Her body settled into it, supported in all the right places, and she vowed she was never leaving it again.

Evander grinned. “Damn good chair, right? I had the same reaction the first time I sat in mine. Liam told me you’ve got a bad habit of hunching over while you work. The whole thing is adjustable from height to the angle of the back support and the armrests. Your posture will thank you, trust me.”

God, she felt like she could kick her feet up on the table and take a nap. Wriggling a little, she hummed in pleasure from the sense of taking all the pressure off her weak spots.

“Now, down to business.” He dropped to his haunches so she didn’t have to crane her neck to meet his eyes. “We threw around a few ideas, and ran them by Liam. The one we voted most suitable is to take you on as a club employee, with all the benefits that includes. Healthcare, dental, whatever you need.”

Her eyes widened. Okay, that wasn’t what she expected.

“We’ll cover the cost of the supplies you need and sourcing the base materials—the stuffies,” he explained when she frowned. “We’re going to leave the selling and pricing to you, so think carefully about your profit margins. If you want to spend your time doing the physical work instead of the actual selling, we’ll provide a sales assistant to handle the window for you.”

Holy cow, this was getting more and more surprising by the minute.

“After a long discussion, we also decided to set up a charity. The cause and the name is up to you. Right now, we’re looking at donating fifty percent of each sale to the charity. The other fifty percent should take care of the supplies.”

The room spun even though the chair was perfectly still.

“I—what?”

Evander smiled. He really did have beautiful eyes. “Take a breath, pet. I’m throwing a lot at you, but I’m almost done.”

Almost? What was left to throw at her, the kitchen sink?

“Liam also told us that you like to donate rehabilitated stuffies to hospitals. We’d like to continue that tradition, although Liam did have an idea. Liam?”

She switched her focus onto her Daddy as he came forward to hunker down next to Evander. Her eyes were on his face, but her attention was spinning around from the ceiling, strapped into a Shibari harness, being buffeted from all sides.

“Wyatt pulled a number on you, minx. I know you won’t call it rape, but for me, he straddled a very fine fucking line.” Gray eyes turned to steel when she tried to protest, standing in defense of a dead man. “How many times did he fuck you dry, cause you pain, all in pursuit of his own pleasure? Too damn many. On top of that, the mental damage he wreaked on you was—is—a deep scar.”

Sierra bit her bottom lip, her weak protests dying a quick death in the face of his anger. She didn’t want to think of herself as a victim; she’d given her consent, after all, and maybe the fault had been with her that she couldn’t get aroused before Wyatt…

She remembered the night she gave him her virginity. The callous way he’d made her lay facedown in the sheets so he didn’t have to look at her face, the same way he did every time he used her after that. How her blood on his cock was still wet when he zipped himself up and left to go fall into a sorority girl’s bed not an hour later.

How he’d rut into her when she was dry.

Liam was right. She wouldn’t call it rape, but the line was as thin as a single strand of hair.

“There are a lot of women in similar circumstances and worse. Single women and women with children who need help in getting out.” He reached out and took her clammy hand. “Evander is willing to donate a chunk of money to kickstart the charity. I’ve spoken to the guys at Avalon and they’re going to chip in. Jasper’s talking to his brothers about tapping into some of Dominic’s ill-gotten funds as well. This is a chance to give back to women who deserve to find themselves again—just like your stuffies.”

Overwhelmed, she tried to take a breath. It was too much—the store was a huge lump of pride to swallow on its own, but the rest… Christ, a charity? A charity should be created in honor of someone special, to continue the endeavors of a lifetime.

“You don’t have to do anything, little one; that’s what these idiots are leaving out of the conversation.” From the doorway, with his arm secured lovingly across Callie’s chest, Elias offered her a sympathetic look. “The charity will be taken care of by people who know what they’re doing. We want you to name it because without you, it wouldn’t exist. Your main part in this is doing exactly what you love, nothing else.”

All right, yes. When put to her just that way, it was easier to digest. Nightmare visions of towering stacks of paperwork and IRS forms faded into the background, along with the approaching panic attack.

She didn’t want to be the face of a charity, no matter the cause, when she’d done nothing to deserve it. They’d find her curled into a ball of pathetic tears beneath a desk if she had to be responsible for anything other than doing what she did day after day—healing herself as she fixed what was broken in others’ eyes.

Elias gave her a nod, obviously confident he’d said all he needed to say. Evander’s soft, puppy-eyed smile edged her closer to agreeing, simply because she was a sucker.

In the end, it was Liam who teased the nod from her.

Liam, who knew her better than she knew herself. The man who loved her despite everything she’d let Wyatt do to her, the level she’d lowered herself to in order to get some inkling of affection from someone who hadn’t seen her as human until almost the end.

Liam, who stuck by her through thick and thin, even when her body denied them both what they wanted most.

Exhaling slowly, she leaned forward and touched her forehead to his. “Accepting this will make you happy?”

“Sierra, you make me happy. The question is, will it satisfy you?”

“I don’t know.” The answer made guilt curdle in her stomach. They’d gone to so much effort, spent money on her she couldn’t repay. “I don’t want to let anyone down, Liam. I feel like I let everyone down, every day, and—”

“Whoa. What the fuck?” He reared back, scowling at her.

Shit, she shouldn’t have said that. It probably fell into the disparaging herself category of punishment, which was a spanking offence. He hated when she put herself down in any way, shape, or form and, although she thought she’d improved since she met him, there was the occasional… relapse.

Oh, she was definitely in his sights now, she thought with a sigh. The gray of his eyes was homed in on her, locked and loaded, growing darker with anger and frustration as the seconds ticked past in slow motion.

“How long have you felt like this?”

The best method she’d learned of gauging him was reading his tone and his eyes. Eyes first, then his voice. He was able to regulate his tone far better than his eyes; take now for instance—he spoke calmly, almost casually, as though what she’d said was a problem easily remedied instead of the downfall of her self-esteem.

But those eyes… if she had one wish, she’d fall into them, cocoon herself in him until they cradled her like silver-lined clouds while the storm raged around her.

She swallowed, sucking her lip between her teeth. Whatever answer she gave, he was going to be mad. If she spoke the truth, he’d be mad and disappointed.

Hesitating cost her.

“Long enough for you to debate whether to lie about it or not,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Let me guess, it stems back to the usual issue?”

We can’t get pregnant because I’m a walking, talking flaw.

Yes, it stemmed back to that issue.

“I’d say we’ll talk about it later, but that’s not going to change anything.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek; his gaze softened when she grasped his wrist, turning her face into his palm. “I’ll make an appointment with the doctor, okay? We’ll see if there’s something we’ve missed, an alternate route to try. I promised you we weren’t going to give up, didn’t I?”

He had, and he rarely failed to keep a promise once it was made.

Sierra nodded, her beard scratching his palm.

“I love you, Sierra. Five years of loving you and not once have you let me down. If we get another fifty, sixty years together, God willing, I can’t imagine you ever will.”

Where did he get the conviction from, the utter faith to believe in her so fiercely? It didn’t matter how far she fell into despair, how deep she disappeared into morose thoughts, he never stopped lifting her up, wrapping her fingers around the next rung on the ladder to drag herself free.

She crawled off the chair into his arms, knocking him off balance. She realized her mistake when he reached out for something to grab on to, snagging Evander’s arm, and the three of them sprawled in a heap on the new carpet.

“Bouncy castle!” Callie squealed, skipping over to drop on Evander, straddling him and bouncing lightly on his belly. “Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!”

Evander grunted each time her butt landed on his stomach.

Sierra laid her head on Liam’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath one ear while the other was filled with Callie’s giggles. She sighed contentedly when his arms folded around her, his lips caressing the top of her head.

Maybe they should christen the space…

She found herself craving slow and sweet, hands gliding over flesh instead of groping, lips light as they skimmed over skin. Soft whispers, the quickening beat of hearts, quiet sighs and moans.

Nuzzling at Liam’s throat, tasting the faint trace of salt on his skin, she let herself daydream for a minute… until Elias’s sharp British accent sliced through and tore it to ribbons.

Under no circumstances could she ever have sex fantasies about him—sure, he was gorgeous and British, had the same vein of sadism as Liam running under his nice-guy exterior, but he scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

Callie obviously didn’t have that same feeling toward her husband, as she giggled and squealed in delight when he scooped her up off Evander’s prone body and slung her over his shoulder where she couldn’t cause any more trouble.

Mack crouched down, smoothing Sierra’s hair with a light touch. “Need a hand up, pixie?”

She’d rather he came down to join her and Liam. There was a peace here that overrode her anxiety, her body siphoning strength and calmness from her big, blond Daddy. Lifting her hand, she twined her fingers with Mack’s larger ones, but tugged at him rather than letting him steal her from Liam.

“Ah…” Mercurial eyes asked several silent questions when she gave him a beseeching flutter of lashes. He dropped to one knee, then capitulated when she tugged harder. “This is kinda weird, but okay.”

“Sierra has her own methods of comfort when things get overwhelming,” Liam said lazily, stroking her back. “You learn to just go with it until she settles, or keep a stuffie at hand at all times.”

“Uh-huh.” With a grunt, Mack stretched out beside them on his back, his shoulder touching Liam’s. “Not a bad way to pass some time, I guess. Would pass faster if someone was wet and naked.”

Liam snorted a laugh; Sierra reached out and set her hand on Mack’s chest.

“She’s not passing time. She’s trying to reconnect what her anxiety’s damaged. Give her ten minutes and she’ll be on a level again.”

Oh, he knew her so well. More often than not, Liam understood the why of what she did better than she ever could. He stated it without impatience or judgement.

“Don’t forget to thank Evander and Elias for your gift, minx,” he added in an undertone. “Even if it makes you uncomfortable, they only thought of you and what would make you happy.”

She nodded because he was right. “I will, Liam.”

Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but when her unease passed and she found the words that summed up her feelings, she would go to the men who’d put time, thought, and money into what was actually a very thoughtful, meaningful present.

For now, she needed some time to step back from the generosity and process the enormity of it all. The store, the opportunity, the charity.

She hoped they didn’t think she was rude.

She wished she was strong enough to vocalize what this meant to her.

She prayed that one day, she’d be the woman Liam—and Mack—deserved.