Chapter Seventeen

Violet

LA Club Decadent Skies, forty thousand feet above the North Pacific Ocean…

“What are you doing, Violet?” she murmured as she stepped into the Club Decadent Skies’ entertainment cabin after the plane had evened out. The familiar scent of leather and subtle hints of bourbon enveloped her. The soft amber lighting created an intimate atmosphere that made her feel instantly at home. “You know this wasn’t part of the plan.” She was delighted when several members from the opening flight greeted her with warm smiles and gentle touches to her arm. Their familiar faces offered her comfort and a sense of belonging despite her internal turmoil.

To be onboard the GoldenEye Airbus III so soon after the first time shouldn’t have happened. She’d intended to keep her distance to avoid further intimate contact. Yet, here she was, drawn back like a moth to a particularly dangerous flame.

An actual relationship with the owner of the club was impossible, even if it was only a Dom/sub agreement, but that weekend at Santa Catalina Island had shifted something fundamental within her. The subsequent dinner at his house had only deepened her confusion. Dexter’s persistent attention by phoning her daily made her heart race every time her cell rang. Three surprise visits to her office bearing her favorite Starbucks coffee and hazelnut chocolate croissants made maintaining any sort of emotional distance nearly impossible. When he’d invited her to join him on the five-hour inflight club trip, her lips had formed “yes” before her brain could intervene.

“Dex told me you’re joining us tonight.” The deep, cultured voice beside her made her start. Violet felt heat rise to her cheeks as she looked up into Rex Oliver’s sky-blue eyes. A gaze that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom behind their penetrating look.

“Well, since it’s a freebie attendance, I’d have been a fool to say no,” she quipped with a dimpled smile as she attempted to mask her inner turbulence with humor.

Rex Oliver was an enigma that had captured her intellectual curiosity from their first meeting. Despite her usual aversion to bald men, there was something charismatic about him. His natural tan complemented the strong lines of his face, while his perfectly chiseled jaw sported a meticulously trimmed beard that framed full, expressive lips. He carried himself with an air of refined ruggedness, like a classical sculpture carved from weathered stone. The permanent furrow between his brows, which often intimidated the subs, only added to his mystique.

Their connection had been immediate during the opening flight, built on a foundation of shared intellectual curiosity and quick-witted banter. Rex possessed the kind of sharp, incisive intelligence that Violet found irresistible. They were able to move seamlessly from discussing quantum physics to ancient philosophy, all while maintaining an air of understated authority. It was refreshing to find someone who challenged her mentally without expecting anything in return.

“Ah, there you are, my little Spitfire.” Dexter’s deep, primal voice resonated with raw dominance and pierced through Violet’s defenses like a blade of pure sensation. The rich timbre sent waves of molten desire coursing through her veins as each syllable ignited nerve endings she hadn’t known existed. Her body responded with an intensity that bordered on embarrassment as a deep pulse of burgeoning lust settled low in her belly.

“Oh!” The gasp escaped from her lungs when his arm snaked around her waist to draw her against the solid wall of his body. The heat of his touch burned through the thin fabric of her red minidress. Her knees threatened to buckle as the heady mixture of sandalwood, leather, and pure male masculine scent enveloped her senses.

“‘Oh’ isn’t exactly the kind of greeting I expected, little one. Gimme a kiss.” Without giving her a chance to protest, his lips locked onto hers in a passionate and demanding kiss. Violet realized that this visceral reaction was exactly like before and not her imagination or simply based on physical attraction.

Dexter Flint was a catalyst for something deeper, more carnal. With just his presence, he unlocked a raw, untamed passion within her that she found equally exciting and terrifying. He was the match to her gasoline, and she was dangerously close to combusting.

“Well, well, well,” another deep voice drawled behind them. “Finally, we get to meet the woman who seems to have tamed the wild ways of our Master D.” Before Violet could catch her bearings, since her lips were still tingling from Dexter’s heated kiss, she was drawn into a hug against a tall, yet muscled man.

“Oh, okay,” she laughed as he proceeded to place a loud smack on each of her cheeks.

“Meet Axel Sullivan, a total asshole but the best friend any man could ask for.” Dexter made the introduction with a shake of his head. Axel was a toucher, especially of women. It was how he immediately established whether there was any connection, whether it be intimate or that of friendship.

“Pleased to meet you, Axel.” Violet’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos covering his chest and arms. “Ehm… those look rather interesting,” she said as she leaned closer to study the intricate designs. Even though she never had any desire to get a tattoo, his drew her interest since they didn’t seem to fit the glimmer of constant amusement in his eyes.

Axel shrugged with a wry look in his eyes. “After a couple of years in prison, you either conform or you become an outcast… or rather a punching bag and the one to get the blame when the guards are looking for shit.”

“You were in prison?”

“Let’s not sour our first meeting with an in-depth discussion of my fucked-up past.” His smile became engaging. “Rather, tell me about your exciting meeting with Zeus. It’s become a hot topic onboard the CDS Airbuses.”

“Oh, no!” Violet covered her eyes. She never imagined how the scene impacted others, only how completely it had opened her eyes to the wicked wildness that had always been dormant inside her. “Now, I’ll never be able to look any of these people in the eye again,” she wailed.

“There is never any shame in releasing one’s true nature of needs in this lifestyle, Violet.”

She looked up into the warm gaze of one of the most attractive and magnetic men she had ever met. He pinched her chin to close her slack jaw and offered her a wide smile. “I’m Max DuPont, and this is my lovely fiancé, Willow Carter.”

Violet was surprised when the tall, curvy woman with a sleek, pitch-black Chinese bob immediately enveloped her in a sisterly hug. “Welcome to our CDS family.”

“I… ehm, thank you,” she smiled, feeling at home within the circle of friends surrounding her. Her awe-struck eyes returned to the big man by her side. “You’re… this is the Max DuPont of the CyberCo Industries Group?” Violet looked at Dexter. She had heard many stories about the wonderful work he did for welfare and homeless children on the East Coast.

“The one and only, as well as the founder of the CDS group and designer and developer of the GoldenEye Airbuses. We owe all of this to him.”

“No, my friend. I offered you the platform. This is all you. The success of this club is the effort you put into it. That’s the bottom line. I am purely here in a supporting role.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all heard that spiel before.” The dry retort drew Violet’s gaze to the two newcomers.

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me you had a twin, Dex.”

“Oh hell, no. He’s not my twin,” Dexter said. “Meet my cousin, Jax Crowthorne. Our mothers are the twins in the family.”

“Well, if not for very small differences from afar, the two of you look identical. Even your haircuts are the same.”

“Exactly what I’ve been saying,” a beautiful blonde woman piped up and promptly hugged Violet. “I’m this one’s fiancé, Ciska Farlow.”

“It’s an honor to meet all of you. Dexter told me about you during the opening of the club. He is lucky to have such a wonderful, caring group of friends.”

“You can say that again, Violet. We’re basically a support group for spreadsheet addicts,” Axel quipped, his eyes twinkling. “When I first met him, he was calculating risk margins in his sleep. Took me years to teach him that martinis taste better than pivot tables.”

Rex let out a deep chuckle. “Remember when we dragged him camping, and he tried to create a statistical analysis of optimal marshmallow roasting techniques?”

“Complete with burn rate variables,” Jax added, grinning. “Though I have to admit, those were some pretty awesome toasted marshmallows.”

“That’s nothing,” Axel jumped back in, slapping Dexter’s shoulder. “Tell Violet about the time you made a probability matrix for picking up women at bars.”

“Which failed spectacularly,” Max drawled, “until we taught him that actual eye contact works better than confidence intervals.”

Violet watched as Dexter’s usual commanding presence softened under his friends’ gentle ribbing. The love between these men was palpable, evident in their easy laughter, and the way they leaned into each other’s space. The shared glances were full of years of inside jokes and weathered storms. Despite their powerful personalities, there was no posturing here, just the comfortable warmth of brotherhood.

“I’ll have you know those spreadsheets built this club,” Dexter protested, but his mock indignation was betrayed by the affectionate smile playing at his lips. “And mark my words, it’s gonna out-profit all of yours.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t argue with that,” Max drawled.

“Come, Violet. Let’s grab some drinks. Believe me, this can go on for hours,” Willow said, sliding her arm through Violet’s with casual familiarity. Ciska joined them on Violet’s other side, creating a cocoon of feminine warmth that felt startlingly natural.

The simple gesture of being flanked by these two women sent a wave of emotion through Violet that nearly brought tears to her eyes. Her life had been a carefully constructed series of professional relationships and polite distance. It weaved around networking events, business dinners, and cordial but shallow interactions. Real friendship, the kind that came with spontaneous touches and genuine warmth, had been a luxury she’d convinced herself she didn’t need, especially not with her family background.

“They’re adorable when they get like this,” Ciska confided with a conspiratorial wink, “but a girl needs proper company sometimes.”

“And proper drinks,” Willow added. “What’s your poison, honey?”

The easy way they included her, as if she’d always been part of their circle, made something tight in Violet’s chest begin to unwind. There was no awkward period of assessment, no careful dancing around social niceties. They simply absorbed her into their orbit with the kind of unconditional acceptance she’d never experienced before.

“Vodka martini, if that’s okay.” Violet smiled as she relaxed in their embrace. “Though I have a feeling you ladies might convince me to try something more adventurous.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Ciska laughed, squeezing her arm affectionately. “Wait until you try Willow’s signature cocktail. It’s either liquid courage or liquid trouble, depending on who you ask.”

The warmth of their laughter, the gentle teasing, and the physical closeness all felt like coming home to a place she’d never known she was missing. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Violet felt her carefully maintained walls beginning to crumble, replaced by something far more precious—belonging.