Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Lucian Leroux

Smile and breathe through the pain.

I took a steadying breath and felt KC’s eyes on me. I didn’t know if he could sense something was wrong, or if it was because of what Santiago was saying—some harangue about taking it easy, about focusing on the people you loved—and I should be listening. I felt that with every ounce of my being as the pain spread throughout me, spiking my anxiety levels to new heights. Holy fuck, was I having a heart attack?

It couldn’t be. I was too young. I was too fit.

A few extra holiday pounds had never killed anyone.

I broke out in a cold sweat when an intense wave of sharp twinges and bursts of discomfort washed over me. My fingers prickled with numbness that quickly spread to my hands and up my arms. My God, worst fucking timing. We were having dinner with friends! A relaxing evening, as my doctors had fucking suggested. And yet, there was nothing relaxing about this.

Santiago’s words went on repeat. Or a few of them.

“It’s about who will take care of me when I’m sick. When I’m old, when I come home from work. Who will remember me when I’m dead. It sure ain’t coworkers and clients. They don’t care if I work myself into an early grave.”

He said something else too, but I couldn’t hear the words. KC grabbed my hand. A low whooshing sound invaded my senses, and only the sight of Cam appearing in the doorway could steal my attention.

“Master?” he asked with a smile. My darling boy. I took another breath, but it fucking hurt. It felt like a stab in the chest. “Sorry to disturb, but I can’t reach the extra mixing bowls on top of the cabinet. Could you help me?”

“Of course, love,” I responded automatically, barely recognizing my own voice. All I saw was an escape. “I’ll be right there.”

I rose to my feet and instantly felt like the floor rushed up to swallow me. I swayed at the dizzy spell, and I blinked in an attempt to clear the blurred corners of my vision and instinctively reached out to grab KC’s shoulder. Fucking hell, what was happening⁠—

I screwed my eyes shut, and the pain blazed through me, centering around my heart. I couldn’t fucking breathe. My entire chest seized up.

“Baby, sit down.” KC’s voice—I couldn’t see him—but I heard the urgency. Fuck. I opened my eyes and tried to swallow.

“Oh my God—Lucian!” Cam cried out.

My hands and arms were all pins and needles, and I repeatedly clenched my fists.

“I’m fine,” I managed to grit out. Nobody believed my lie, least of all Cam. Hurt slashed through his expression. “I…I’m…fuck.” Then I was somehow sitting down in the chair—someone had pushed it closer to KC. Cam dropped to my feet, and the fear in his eyes nearly bowled me over. I couldn’t scare him; I’d promised him I was okay.

But I wasn’t, and he knew it.

I shut my eyes again, and I rubbed at the sharpest pain over my chest.

Panic shot right through me. This couldn’t be it. It fucking couldn’t. I’d just found my happiness with Cam, KC, and Noa. For God’s sake, I was working overtime so I could finally put my family ahead of work.

“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” someone said.

I sucked in shallow breaths, faster and faster, and it was as if the pain chased me. Nothing worked. I couldn’t relax, I couldn’t slow down my breaths, I couldn’t get the motherfucking air into my lungs.

“It’s gonna be okay, Master,” Cam whimpered. “You have to be okay!”

“It’s important you relax, Mr. Leroux. Your blood pressure is still a bit high, but that’s understandable, given the circumstances.”

I released a breath and eyed the nurse as she removed the cuff around my arm. Hopefully, I’d get to put on my own clothes soon. And get the fuck out of here.

I rubbed at the ache in my chest. It was a fucked-up feeling. I still felt two types of pain, just like last night, one sharp and unforgiving, and one dull rush of a discomfort that came and went as it pleased. Lastly, the final remnants of the sedative, clinging to my senses, throwing my worry into a sluggish swamp.

The door to my room opened, and a doctor came in while reading my chart.

“Good morning, Mr. Leroux,” he said.

“Morning.” I cleared my throat. “Any idea when the chest pain will fade?”

He looked up from the chart. “Is the pain similar to what you felt last night?”

I shook my head. “Nowhere near it. Just annoying enough to keep me worried and unsettled.”

He nodded with a dip of his chin, seemingly satisfied, and walked over to me. “I’m gonna have a look. Your blood tests show an increase in inflammatory markers, meaning you have inflammation in your body. Does this hurt?” He pressed his finger against my sternum, and I flinched and shot him a little glare.

“Yes, so please don’t do that again,” I said.

His mouth twitched, and he fucking did it again. He moved his finger across my upper chest, both left and right side, from the center to my armpits, and I immediately put him on Noa’s shit list. What kind of sadist was this doctor?

The nurse left.

“You’ve put too much pressure on your body, Mr. Leroux,” he told me. Then he positioned his stethoscope and went along with his exam. I coughed when he told me to, he preached about resting, he told me about autoimmune responses, inflammation in the tissue and in muscles.

They were gonna send me home with a four-day supply of Ativan, a strong recommendation to take time off work, the “order” to make an appointment with my primary care physician, and: “For the inflammation, take 400 milligrams of ibuprofen and 1000 milligrams of acetaminophen three times a day for a week.”

“So, no diagnosis.” I was finally allowed to get out of the hospital gown, so I removed it and shrugged on my shirt.

“If you want to get specific, you need further examination,” the doc said. “But you’re likely suffering from burnout symptoms, which you should take very seriously. Stress, anxiety, lack of rest and proper sleep, always being on the go—all that goes straight to your heart in the end. High blood pressure, chronic inflammation, and panic attacks are clear warning signs.”

I hadn’t taken any of this seriously before, but after last night…

I had run out of time.

I swallowed hard.

And it was bizarre. It wasn’t the chest pain or the ambulance ride that’d sealed the deal for me; it was the look in Cam’s eyes. I’d hurt him. I’d let him down.

Let’s face it, he wasn’t here. Family members were allowed to spend the night with a loved one, and nobody had. I had no recollection of seeing anyone here last night, aside from KC. I could only make guesses about Noa. But Cameron…? If this had been a couple months ago, he wouldn’t have left my side, even for a second.

“It’s about who will take care of me when I’m sick. When I’m old, when I come home from work. Who will remember me when I’m dead. It sure ain’t coworkers and clients. They don’t care if I work myself into an early grave.”

Goddammit, Santiago. We didn’t know each other well enough for him to be in my fucking brain.

The nurse opened the door again and poked her head in. “I have two family members itching to see you, sir.”

Two family members. Two, not three.

Fucking hell, that hurt.

What have I done?

As I stepped into my pants, KC and Noa appeared in the doorway, both dressed in hoodies and sweats. Noa was half hidden behind KC and looked like he’d just woken up, but KC had showered and most likely completed his workout. Which meant he hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. Because of me.

“Hi…” Noa was uncharacteristically shy as he snuck closer, and I couldn’t take it. He was too adorable, his voice hit me in a way that made my eyes smart, and I was suddenly desperate for his energy and affection.

I sat back against the edge of the hospital bed, and I cleared my throat and managed to motion for him to come to me. And he didn’t hesitate. He rushed over, and then I had him in my arms.

God.

I buried my face in his hair and breathed him in, and if I hugged him any tighter, he’d suffocate.

KC asked to speak with the doctor, so they went outside, and that was just as well. I’d reached my limit.

“You gotta be okay,” Noa said thickly.

I drew a deep breath, and for a brief moment, the ache lessened. It made me want to overanalyze when the pain struck and why, why it faded, why it changed, why it moved.

“I will be,” I murmured. I eased back so I could cup his face in my hands—and I saw the hurt in his eyes too. The doubt, the worry. Cam wasn’t the only one I’d lied to. Intentionally or not, I’d overestimated my capabilities far too long. I’d said I was fine even when I’d known I was so far from it. “I’ve heard my wake-up call.”

He bit at the corner of his lip, hesitating. “Do you promise?”

I was half surprised he wanted a promise. I’d made those before, and they’d meant shit.

“I’ll prove it,” I said. “I want you to trust me again.”

He smiled carefully and shrugged a little. “I trust you now too—as long as you make changes. And, um, you gots to make things right with Cameron. He’s scared.”

Ouch.

Talk about sobering.

I swallowed.

He’s scared.

“When Daddy said you weren’t having a heart attack and that you’d recover…” Noa trailed off and scratched the side of his head. “I think it flipped a switch or something—I don’t know. But Cameron went from worrying like crazy to shutting down. And then after we dropped him off, Daddy and I talked, and he said, like, Cameron could be afraid to lose you—and I sort of know he is—but Daddy put it in perspective for me. So he’s distancing himself, preparing himself, in case you won’t start taking care of yourself. It’s a trust thing, I guess.”

And so the pain was back. It happened so swiftly and suddenly that it had to be about this and nothing else. I mean, this specific hurt—this very bout of anxiety-laden pain—was all about Cam. Anxiety wasn’t only “in your head.” It could provoke physical responses.

I rubbed at my chest. I guessed I was still new in the world of anxiety.

I wasn’t a fan.

The worry that built up—I couldn’t fucking control it.

Deep breaths.

Deep, slow breaths.

“Are you okay?” Noa asked worriedly.

I’m fine.

I’m not fine.

I’m fucking drowning.

I exhaled and scrubbed my hands over my face.

“Don’t say you’re fine,” he pleaded.

I shook my head. “I’m not fine—but I will be.” I swallowed dryly and took another breath. Okay, time to get my shit in order. We had to get out of here, and I had to call my regular doctor. “Is Cam at the condo?” I assumed that was the case.

It hurt. We’d initially decided to rent, but then we’d found a small two-bedroom for sale in town, very close to where Noa and I worked. Not far from where Cam and KC worked as well. And we’d gone all in. Despite that we had a perfectly nice house half an hour away, we’d bought a small place to ensure we’d always be close. If any of us had to work late in town, we could stay there.

It also gave us moments of solitude as two couples, even though we usually preferred to stay together, all four of us.

And now…it was Cam’s escape. From me.

I flicked Noa a glance when he didn’t respond, and he was finding it much more interesting to bite his thumbnail and avoid eye contact.

“Noa?”

“Oh, poop chute,” he whispered. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s with Archie and his gang. He wanted another slave to talk to.”

What the⁠—

I felt my eyes widen for a second. Archie—and Greer’s family—out in goddamn Winchester?

He wanted another slave to talk to.

“You took him to Winchester last night?”

He nodded hesitantly.

That was some…escape.

Fuck me, I had my work cut out for me. The whole goddamn reason I wanted less time at the office was because of these three men. I wanted, and could afford, more time with those who mattered the most. But in order to quit… I’d agreed to too much at work. I’d let my boss and fellow advisers tell me they couldn’t handle the transition without me, when, in reality, they were just putting clients’ needs ahead of everyone else. And that was the way of the finance world. But it didn’t have to be the way of mine.

What was even worse…I’d seen myself as more important. I’d taken some sick pleasure in having to be the one who trained the man taking over my clients. In a way, I wasn’t wrong; those clients had depended on me and my advice for years, and that was how they preferred it. If the firm intended to keep my clients around, Kevin would need to be the new me.

The question was why the fuck I cared.

My God, what if I was too late? What if the trust was broken for good?

I’d pushed my bullshit lies for weeks—if not months. I’d dismissed KC’s and Cam’s worries, all while I’d started making their fears come true.

KC came back into the room, and we locked eyes.

I fucked up.

It didn’t take more than that for him to understand Noa had told me.

“We’re gonna work this out.” He walked over to me and rested his cane against the bed. “How much did you tell him, freckles?”

“About Cameron? All of it, I think.” Noa shrugged.

KC nodded with a dip of his chin and began buttoning my shirt. “He needs a moment to regroup, that’s all. He’ll come home tonight or tomorrow. And in the meantime, you’ll think of one hell of a bold gesture to make him believe you’re gonna be his Master for a long-ass time.”

A bold gesture.

Noa snuck forward before the top buttons had been buttoned, and he pinched one of the electrodes that hadn’t been removed last night. He fucking yanked it.

“Boy,” I grunted. RIP, chest hair. I rubbed the spot. That hurt, dammit.

“Oops,” he choked out on a giggle.

KC shook his head in amusement and retrieved his phone. Scratch that, it was mine. “I brought this. Cam messaged before he went to bed last night and said he’d left you a text.”

Oh.

I drew a breath and accepted the phone, unsure I had the balls to read it.

Not that it stopped me from opening our message conversation faster than I could tell my boss I was quitting.

Nervousness tightened my gut.

I feel super selfish for leaving. I miss you, and I love you. I fucking live for you! And maybe that’s why I had to go. I can’t watch you kill yourself. So as soon as I knew you weren’t dying (at the moment), all I could think of was running away.

I don’t know what would hurt the most, every step I could’ve taken toward you, or every step I ended up taking away from you.

Please get better, Lucian. I beg you. Please choose us. We’ve chosen you. I love you. Master Greer is taking my phone now, so I don’t know when I can/will text again, but I’ll be home soon.

Emotions welled up so fast that I had no time to blink back the tears before they rolled down my cheeks. I coughed and hurriedly wiped them away, to no avail. Oh fuck, right in the gut. What had I done?

Please choose us.

I had to cough again, and I swallowed repeatedly, instantly worrying Noa. KC calmly took my phone and read the message, then let out a long breath and hugged me to him.

I can’t watch you kill yourself.

“What did he write?!” Noa demanded.

I don’t know what would hurt the most…

* * *

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. I was going in the wrong direction. I understood I needed to rest. We’d stopped on the way home to pick up my prescription of anxiety meds that I’d ignored for two weeks. Or three. I didn’t recall exactly when my doctor had offered them to me, just that I’d scoffed at the notion.

But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t go home and sleep yet.

I could only think of one bold gesture that was good enough, and it was the most obvious one. I was done. I’d finally reached my limit. I didn’t care about my goddamn clients anymore, nor did I care what my superiors would say. It wasn’t as if I was aiming to become partner anymore. I’d lost that desire years ago, and yet I’d continued working as if I had nothing else to live for.

“Stay in the car,” I said abruptly.

KC killed the engine and furrowed his brow.

I scratched my forehead and glanced at my SUV in the carport. We could take that instead—actually, no. KC could drive.

“Give me two minutes,” I added and removed the seat belt. Then I stepped out and⁠—

“What do you think you’re doing?” KC asked.

I remembered I didn’t have my keys, so I stuck a hand inside the car again. “Let me borrow your keys. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are we going?” Noa asked from the back seat.

“To my office,” I replied.

The fact that they eyed me with disbelief-tainted anger in the first two seconds let me know how bad I’d been. For even that brief moment, they’d assumed I was going to work or to bring work home with me.

Noa was the first to switch over to hope. “Are you quitting?”

I nodded.

KC’s gaze softened, but he hadn’t run out of suspicion quite yet. “Actually quitting or cutting down?”

“Actually quitting,” I said.

KC handed over his keys. “I guess we can muster up enough energy for that trip.”

I smiled, my heart thrumming a little faster. “Let me just change into sweats and a hoodie first.”

Hell had officially frozen over.

* * *

“You okay, hon?” KC asked.

I swallowed and offered an automatic nod, only to remember that bullshitting with the people I loved had gotten me into this mess, so I shook my head. Right around the same time KC drove us down into the same garage where I’d parked my car for almost eighteen years.

I’d once been a lowly intern here.

Floor by floor, I’d climbed all the way up to my corner office on the sixteenth floor, overlooking the Potomac and DC. Where I also had a nice office. The firm had expanded about seven years ago, and in DC, our clients were real estate moguls and bankers. In Virginia, they worked in finance, security, and oil.

A far cry from the investors in penny stocks where I’d started out.

I’d traveled the world on the company dime.

My work hadn’t brought me happiness in years, though. At some point, I’d lost my interest in goals and adding another zero to my bank accounts. It wasn’t as if I’d spent much of it. I’d had very little vacation time or days off. I’d pushed myself for no fucking reason. Except a sense of pride in being the best.

For what?

KC pulled into my parking spot, and I let out a breath.

It was the right time to quit and walk away, but it still unsettled me. Maybe I should think this through. Maybe I should find a compromise—for fuck’s sake, I was sick. No, I had to quit. Cold turkey. I’d already fucking tried the slow exit strategy. Something had always sucked me back in, whether it was my excuse or my boss’s.

I had to walk away.

I had nothing here but a few photos of Cam, KC, and Noa.

Please choose us.

“We can do this another day when you’ve rested up more,” KC murmured.

I shook my head.

No, I had to do it now.

“I don’t belong here anymore.” With that said, I opened the door and stepped out. We were surrounded by Lexuses, Jaguars, and BMWs. My colleagues wore suits worth more than what most people made in a month. Or four… Hell, I was one of them—and it had to stop.

I looked at the rows of gleaming cars and suddenly saw nothing but billable hours away from family and loved ones. We let ourselves be distracted by high-status gadgets, bonuses, and promotions so that we’d ignore the late-night meetings, the ulcers, the headaches, and the sheer fucking pressure you felt when you knew that the piece of advice you offered a client could earn or lose them millions of dollars.

Even so… As revolting as I felt this could be, I didn’t know how to be anyone else. I didn’t know what else I was good at. I had no goddamn clue what was going to happen when I left this building for the last time—and that terrified me.

My fingers prickled with numbness, and a tremor of pain traveled through my chest.

“Lucian,” KC said patiently. “You don’t have to do this today.”

Except, I did.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat and peered back into the car. At Noa, more accurately. “I do. I just need my emotional support animal with me.”

Noa perked up and smirked crookedly. “For reals? But just so you know, I prefer emotional attack dog.”

“Good lord,” KC drawled. “You have not thought this through.”

Maybe not.

So be it.

Noa scrambled out of the car, and I asked KC to keep the engine running.

This shouldn’t take long.

After making sure I had everything—conveniently tucked into the front pocket of my hoodie—I led the way to the elevators.

“Can I make a scene?” Noa asked happily.

I side-eyed him.

KC was right.

I had not thought this through.

“Let’s try not to,” I advised.

Noa had visited me countless times, though usually at my other office across the river, where we didn’t have to worry about pompous superiors who never left the seventeenth floor. The office in DC was much more low-key and casual, for some reason. My coworkers there loved Noa—or “KC’s boy,” as they referred to him.

I pressed my key card to the pad in the elevator so we could access the top three floors, and Noa looked like he was building up a case for himself.

In the meantime, I uncapped the bottle of my anxiety medication and popped two pills dry. I eyed the label. One or two when needed, maximum of three times a day. The doctor had promised they were mild, so I hoped I wasn’t about to pass out. It was more a precaution than anything else.

“I would like to propose an exception,” Noa said formally. “If someone’s rude to you or tells you to just sleep it off, I’d like to at least make my presence known.”

My mouth twitched.

We were two sweatpants-wearing, bed-head-sporting men heading up in an elevator paneled in mahogany, and we were about to enter an office area where everyone was judgmental. Approximately two-thirds of them would never have the balls to utter a word to me, and the others worked above me.

Either way, our presence would be known from the moment we exited the elevator.

“Just wait until we’ve left my office,” I said. “After that, the worst thing that could happen, we get escorted out.”

“Life goal,” he whispered under his breath.

I chuckled silently and peered up at the numbers going higher for each floor we ascended.

This was the right call.

I had nothing here. I’d never made any lasting friends; people either kissed my ass or added work to my plate. They wanted to buy me lunch so they could network me into their fold or they had a favor to ask. Everyone was constantly trying to get ahead.

My name was in the proverbial hat for future partners, but it’d been there for a couple years now. And the other four or five prospects—forget having a casual conversation with them. The moment someone opened their mouth, at least two others were wondering what ulterior motive they had.

How I’d once received my fuel from such a toxic place, I’d never understand.

The elevator doors opened, and I took a deep breath. Charles and Ana ruled the lobby area as always, and both were surprised to see me. Rather, the state of me.

I ushered Noa down the corridor leading to the conference rooms, past the door to the bullpen, and aimed for the door that led to the offices. On the way, I nodded in hello, and Charles and Ana nodded back, looking sufficiently stunned.

“I think they’re gonna talk about you soon,” Noa whispered too loudly.

I snorted softly and held the door for him.

Let them talk.

For every step I took, the better I felt about quitting altogether. It didn’t matter that I had no clue what to do next, as long as I got out of here.

Each office we walked by had a name etched in the polished gold metal sign, and every random potted plant in the corridor had been watered. No brown leaves, no stains on the carpet, not a speck of dust in any corners.

Thomas Wilkins and Shawn Lopez stood outside the latter’s office and looked up from Thomas’s phone when we passed.

“Hey…Lucian…?” Shawn’s greeting came out more like a question.

“Shawn. Thomas.” I nodded.

When we reached the far end, we arrived at a row of offices that each had an assistant’s desk outside. My assistant wasn’t here today, so I just stepped right into my office.

I could admit, I was going to miss this part. On a stressful day, looking out over the river and the city helped center me. The walls were surprisingly thick, and one could feel like the only person in the world in here. Which had both its ups and downs, I supposed. I’d felt lonely in here as well, especially before I’d broken things off with my ex.

I remembered standing there near the corner where the windows met. My thoughts would wander to other submissives, mainly Cam. Definitely mostly him. And Tate and Ivy and…well, before Ella had cheated on Pen, I’d thought of her too. The pets in my life who lived to serve their Masters and Mistresses. How devoted they’d been, how involved in their partners’ lives they’d wanted to be.

Robert had never visited me here. Not that I’d asked him to. It hadn’t been on our radars to include each other when it came to our careers. We’d been together for years, and I only ever met his family once. We’d been exclusive, with a small “don’t ask, don’t tell” clause that’d been reserved for a select few. And that…was probably a stretch. I’d wanted monogamy, and he’d needed two play partners he’d discovered kink with back in Phoenix. So I’d known, whenever he flew home, something was likely to happen.

It hadn’t bothered me too much, to be honest. I’d had my rather unconventional friendship with KC since his marriage had started deteriorating, and then I’d been swamped with work. But I’d always found the time, somehow, to stand in that damn corner, look out over the river, and wonder what kind of Master would eventually snatch up Cameron Jacobson.

Some lucky son of a bitch who better never fucking hurt him, I recalled thinking.

I frowned to myself, opened one of the cabinets, and picked up a box filled with old files. I dumped the files on the floor, then headed over to my desk to grab my few belongings.

A picture of KC and me the day I got my master’s degree.

“Now what, Mr. Leroux?”

I laughed and shoved at him. “Well, since you passed the bar, I guess there’s only one thing. We get filthy rich and live happily ever after.”

I smiled faintly and looked at our untroubled grins.

The next photo was of KC and Noa, taken seconds after Noa had jumped off the stage following a sweaty gig. Drumsticks high in the air, KC ready to catch our boy in a tight hug, purple spotlights casting shadows over the two.

Last but not least, a picture of Cam. He’d been sitting in my reading chair, with a cookbook, and he’d caught me sneaking a photo of him. That soft, playful smile of his whispered of a sense of serenity I hadn’t seen in him in a while.

It killed me.

We’d only been together six months, and I’d already replaced the honeymoon joy with worry and uncertainties.

“You’re gonna work things out, Sir,” Noa murmured. “I think as soon as he learns you’ve quit, he’ll know you’re serious.”

One could hope. But I was ready to go further if I needed. As in, show him this was permanent. I was steeling myself, because this could take time.

“For now, I’ll let you be optimistic for the both of us,” I answered. “But don’t forget to include yourself in my journey to make amends. I owe you an apology as well.”

“Pffft.” He waved that off and helped me pack the other belongings on my desk—and in my drawers. A sad little plant my assistant had given to me. A couple Christmas cards, a watch I’d been meaning to fix since the wristband had snapped in two, a random cuff link, some notepads… “Can I steal the stapler?”

I chuckled. “Go for it. You’re lawyered up, so I’m not worried.”

He snickered and placed the stapler in the box.

After taking down a few frames from the wall, three diplomas and a couple certificates, I heard a knock on the already-open door.

I looked over and—fuck me. Word traveled too fast.

Let me guess, one assistant had told another’s assistant.

It was the big man himself. Sterling Turner.

“Just as I figured—you’re about to make a mistake, my dear chap,” he said. His voice gossiped of years of one too many bottles of scotch. The rest of him screamed of multiple divorces, doctors telling him to watch his blood pressure, a custody battle or two, boredom, and loyalty reserved for the company. He’d started the firm a year after he’d left the UK, “with my bare hands and two thousand pounds I’d borrowed from my father,” as he loved to regale at holiday parties.

“I can assure you I’m not, sir,” I replied. “I spent last night in the ER, certain I was having a heart attack. It’s time for me to bow out. Besides, Kevin is as ready as he’ll ever be.”

Turner let out a gruff chuckle and leaned against the doorway. “Hardly reassuring, now, is it? I’m sure we can work something out, Lucian. They prescribed you medication, didn’t they? Hell, I’ve been on beta-blockers and blood thinners for years.”

Thanks, but I don’t want to be you.

“I’m flattered that you want me around to keep the clients happy, but frankly, my priorities look different,” I told him. I went over to my bookcase, where I had a dozen or so books. Half of them were about spinal cord injuries. I couldn’t keep them around the house where KC might see them, so I’d have to find a good hiding spot.

“Are you sure about that?” Turner asked. “Fred, JJ, and I have been talking, you know…” That would be his closest friend and nephew, both of whom had made partner. “Turner, Gamble, and Leroux—would look good on the building, wouldn’t it?”

Noa scoffed under his breath.

I had half a mind to do the same.

Frankly, it pissed me off. Because over a year ago, I’d told him I wanted to slow down and find a replacement for many of my clients. He’d fed me bullshit to stall any kind of change. Sure, I’d had a new adviser shadowing me—sometimes two—tagging along on meetings and whatnot, but there’d always been “just one more thing.” And I’d obeyed like a damn dog, foolishly thinking I’d get my treat soon.

“I’ll pass, Mr. Turner,” I replied. “I’m handing in my notice today, and you can consider this last year of stringing me along my excuse to call in sick for the next two weeks.” I paused and dropped the last book into the box. “But I’ll look forward to cashing out my stock options. And on another note, how’s your son doing? Did the rehab program work out for him?”

I figured it was a good time to remind him that I knew he’d put his son’s drug rehab on the company card.

I knew a lot of things, actually.

I saved receipts.

One glance at Noa told me it was time to wrap things up. He was fidgeting restlessly and biting his nails, which meant he was mere seconds away from “making his presence known.” I might send him back to the garage while I took a quick trip down to HR.

Turner was hopefully done playing games. I met his thinly veiled smile with a blank expression.

I’d met many colleagues who’d all but feared this man. I’d respected him greatly, but as my father used to say, “Once you’ve witnessed a man’s weaknesses, you know how strong he isn’t.” And Sterling Turner had always enjoyed skirting the rules, sometimes breaking them too, especially when it came to tax laws and bookkeeping.

He couldn’t fuck me over on anything about my final exit from this place.

“I’m disappointed it’s come to this, Lucian,” he said.

“Oh, dude.” Noa picked that moment to speak up, and I sent him a pointed look, but his stare was fixed on Turner. “Just let him go. He doesn’t wanna be here.”

Phew. That could’ve been much worse.

Turner gave my boy a brief frown, and it turned into disdain before he looked back to me. “I’ve heard water-cooler gossip about KC’s boy who can’t shut up.”

Excuse me?

“Bitch, I’m more than KC’s boy,” Noa laughed. I cursed under my breath and watched as he walked closer to Turner. “I’m a drummer, a sound guy, my family’s favorite attack dog, and for you—just for you…” He came to a stop right in front of Turner and peered up at him.

“Noa,” I cautioned. It was halfhearted at best because, frankly, I didn’t care enough. Part of me wanted to hear what he had to say.

Noa didn’t look away from Turner even once. “I’m your pigeon, Mr. Bossman Sir. I’ll shit on everything you love. How’s that? Unless…you respect the fact that Lucian needs to rest and watch his blood pressure. So do me a favor and take a step back. Turn around. And walk away.”

I drew an unsteady breath, and an immense wave of love and gratitude washed over me. All aimed at that sweetheart. My God, I didn’t deserve him—or his support.

I swallowed and saw the moment Turner got ready to respond, likely with a snide little comment that would demean Noa, and that wasn’t happening.

“Don’t say a word to him, Sterling,” I said. “Not a fucking word.”

He flashed me a narrowed-eyed look, unable to hide his brewing anger. Then he let out a derisive huff, straightened up, adjusted his tie, and walked off.

I exhaled.

I estimated we had a few minutes before security got here, but I didn’t need that much. I was sending Noa down to KC with my box of belongings, and on my way to HR, I’d call Cheryl so she could pack up my things at the other office. Then I was done. Noa could help me pick out a thank-you gift for Cheryl. She’d been with me the past decade, and if I didn’t know she was already starting a new job in a few months with an adviser I actually respected, I might’ve⁠—

“Was that too much, Uncle Lucian?” I heard Noa ask, hesitation in his voice.

I didn’t like that one bit. “No.” I rounded the desk and walked over to him, and I cupped his face in my hands. “You said everything that social norms prevent me from saying. You said it in a much funnier way too.” I dipped down and kissed him, and he gave me his signature grin, visibly relieved. “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too!” He fiddled with the drawstrings of my hoodie. “Can we get out of here now?”

I bumped my forehead against his. “I’ll even race you to the elevator.”

That earned me one of his adorable giggles—before he gasped and shook his head. “Oh no, Sir! No running for you. In fact, wait here.”

He darted out of the office before I could even think of a response, and I felt my forehead wrinkle. What was the boy up to now?

Eh, I’d find out soon enough.

Returning to my desk, I gave my office a final glance and swooped up the box. Eighteen fucking years. I’d done everything I’d set out to do—except take over the company one day. A fool’s dream right after graduation. Back then, dreams had looked a lot different. For both KC and me, the world had revolved around money and career goals.

What felt like a lifetime later, I could confidently say that work travels didn’t mean shit if you didn’t have someone to share them with—or more importantly, you didn’t actually get to experience the destination. The money… Okay, the money still felt nice, but it was far from enough. Same there, I wanted someone to share it with, someone to spoil, my kinky family to take care of, and…I’d jeopardized all of it.

No more.

This was it. I walked out, only pausing to steal my sign from the door, and then I trailed down the corridor without looking back.

I blew out a breath, a strange discomfort setting in. My hands prickled slightly, and I felt a little out of breath. So I supposed I was long overdue for a day of resting.

I wasn’t sure the anxiety medication had made any difference. I didn’t feel sleepy or sluggish in any way.

Halfway down the corridor, Noa reappeared from the lobby. He jogged back to me with a triumphant smirk, and he was holding something. He came to a stop right in front of me, wordlessly shifted the box sideways in my arms, and stuck whatever it was to my chest.

What the fuck?

“I saw it on a box next to the front desk,” he said.

It was a bright red sticker that read “Fragile – handle with care.”

I pursed my lips to conceal my amusement, and I met his grin.

“That’s you.” He grabbed the box from me. “Daddy, Cameron, and I are gonna take care of you, though.”

“Because I’m fragile.” I didn’t know how to react. Mostly, I was in awe of this sweetheart. He was equal parts funny and protective, which was equal parts discombobulating and endearing. The little one wasn’t supposed to look after his Owner in that sense. Right?

“For the moment.” He nodded.

For the moment.

* * *

It felt entirely wrong to be home without Cam here. I’d showered without him, gotten dressed without him, eaten my low-sodium, healthy meal without him, taken a nap without him, walked past his collar in the hallway, and it was…just less.

Over the past six months, we’d built up such an extensive structure; it’d fused us together. If none of us was working, we were attached at the hip. And he was almost always at home when I was. So…if I was sitting in my reading chair, I wanted to hear him humming to himself in the kitchen—or he was kneeling at my feet and working on next week’s dinner menu. If he had an errand and I wasn’t working, I wanted to drive him. If he had a date with Noa to go dancing, with or without friends, KC and I preferred to wait in the city until they needed to be picked up.

It’d felt so natural too. My dynamic with Cameron might seem intense and bordering on suffocating to some, but to us… If I believed in soul mates, he was mine. Forming our relationship had felt like being reunited with a piece I’d been missing since birth. I loved his perspective on things. I could listen to him for hours and then look at the time and wonder what’d happened.

I loved to watch him in his slave mode with others as well. Archie, Macklin, Tate—most recently, Gael too. Gael wasn’t a slave, but he was a Little with a big love for serving Dean, and Cam hadn’t hesitated to help Gael find a balance.

Merely observing Cam breathed life into me.

And if he felt half that overwhelming amount of love for me… I’d really fucking let him down.

Part of becoming his Master had revolved around tying him to me. He’d thrived on knowing that I would make every decision—because he trusted me to always listen to him, he knew I’d always explain my reasoning if he needed it, and he felt confident that my goal was for the two of us to grow stronger together.

“I want you to be my sun, Sir. Hell, my religion. Every day, I want to ask myself, what does Master want for dinner? What does his schedule look like today? What will he need from me when he gets home?”

We’d explored a level of TPE I’d never experienced before. Neither had he. We’d reached heights together that’d introduced us to mental and emotional orgasms. With him, I’d found out what Top space was all about.

Fuck my life. He had to be so lost. And it was my fault.

I returned to the den, where Noa was cuddled up on KC’s lap in his lounger. They were watching some comedy special on Netflix and seemingly enjoying it.

I slumped down on the couch with a new cup of decaf coffee and checked my phone.

Nine new messages, but none of them was from Cam.

The whole goddamn community knew now.

I opened my group chat with the other Tops who were planning the next Game, and I scowled.

Reese: Copy that. Penelope told me earlier. Lucian’s been removed from the list. Rest up, buddy.

Nathan: Damn. Just heard from Greer’s sub. I hope you’ll recover fast, Lucian. Let me know if you need to talk.

Kingsley: Tate asked if he could get a care package to Lucian. Is anyone heading over there anytime soon?

Lucas: I called KC a while ago, and Kit and I will visit after work tomorrow with Gael and Santiago. Are you available for lunch tomorrow, Kingsley?

Kingsley: Edy’s at noon?

Colt: Fuck. Now I want Edy’s. Luke, remember that I love their rotisserie chicken with fries. I’d head over there myself if Ty weren’t a dictator at work. I might file a restraining order.

Ty: Get back to work, you lazy fuck.

Colt: I forgot you were here. Fuck off, I’m getting Edy’s.

Reese: This is legit the only reason I haven’t turned off notifications on this chat. Never change, Colt.

I tossed the phone back onto the table and folded my arms over my chest.

So now I’d been removed as a volunteer for the event too.

And everyone was getting Edy’s chicken without me.

Noa lifted his head from KC’s shoulder. “Are you mad, Uncle Fragile?”

I scowled again.

He just laughed.

“It’s annoying to have so many people concerned about you, isn’t it?” KC drawled. He didn’t look away from the TV. “The only victims here are Noa and me. We’ve had to listen to your phone vibrate the table to pieces while you were moping in the kitchen.”

My glare would be much more impressive if he fucking faced me.

Bastard.

For the record, I hadn’t moped in the kitchen. I’d…simply tried to get the new coffee machine to work.

Cam had given it to KC and me for Christmas, among a few other thoughtful gifts that made our lives taste much better. But we’d been spoiled to the point where Cam was the one managing those devices for us. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made my own coffee.

I blew out a breath and rubbed at my chest. Every now and then, twinges of discomfort traveled through me like the most annoying reminders that I had to rest.

I’d practiced a speech in my head to justify driving out to Winchester tonight, and every damn time I delivered it, KC shot me down. So did Noa. It wasn’t even worth trying. As much as it hurt to admit, I didn’t have rhyme and reason on my side. If the doctors told me to rest and I didn’t…I’d hurt Cam and the other two yahoos more than I already had.

Plus, Greer wouldn’t let me see my boy anyway. Greer and I could be like night and day, but we were two peas in a pod when it came to TPE, so I knew exactly what he’d say if I tried to bargain with him.

Motherfucker.

I grabbed my phone once more.

KC had spoken to Lucas, Penelope, and River today. Noa had told…I didn’t even know how many. Maybe Gael had shared the news with one or two as well. In short, everyone knew, and my phone had blown up with get-well wishes. A handful of threats too.

Penelope didn’t mince words.

Fuck it. Greer couldn’t blame me for at least calling.

I got up with a grunt that made me feel older than I was, and I felt KC and Noa watching me as I left the den.

“Don’t do anything stupid, baby,” KC said.

“Yeah, don’t do anything stupid, baby!” Noa hollered.

I snorted softly under my breath and returned to the kitchen. It was where I felt closest to Cam. This was where he cooked, where he danced, where he essentially ran the household.

My gaze landed on the natural patterns in the marble across the floor, and I remembered the day Cam had told me he’d thought one of the natural “stains” was food, so he’d tried to clean it up. To no avail.

I’d gotten the impression he wasn’t the biggest fan of the cupboards either. He’d never say that out loud, but I could read my boy well. I’d just been high on my own delusions about how much I could manage. Christ. My life was a mess. I opened one of the cupboards to grab a glass, and I saw it now. How the dark wood looked smudgy in the spotlights. That’d been his only comment—they were a menace to keep clean.

After pouring a glass of… What the fuck even was this? Blueberry juice? Cam must’ve picked this up. The label screamed of all things healthy—antioxidants, vitamins, organic, and on it went.

I took a sip.

Not bad.

Then I called Cam and prepared myself for Greer answering.

I wasn’t wrong. Greer’s voice filtered through after the third ring.

“That’s a nice couple selfie Cam’s got there when Owner calling lights up the screen. I’ve been expectin’ your call, buddy. How are ya?”

I suppressed a sigh and leaned back against the counter. “Half of me is missing. I assume KC and the rest of the community have given you all the information.”

“Yeah, we’re a chatty bunch,” he chuckled. Though, he sobered pretty fast. “You got us all worried. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

I cleared my throat, more interested in knowing how bad it had been for Cam today. “Honestly, neither did I. But I suppose I was due for a lesson in learning I’m not immortal. Can we talk about Cam? How is he?”

“He’s…” Greer blew out a breath, and I heard some rustling in the background, as if he was walking to another room. “Today’s been rough on him, man. He feels guilty as fuck for leavin’. Meanwhile, he’s scared shitless he’s about to lose you. And do you know what it does to a slave—in that mind-set—to worry about losing that one person who’s supposedly his world? For chrissakes, we’ve been teaching this at demos for years.”

The last thing I needed was a lecture on things I already knew, but I fucking deserved it. With a hard swallow, I sank down on the floor and scrubbed a hand over my face.

“He’s deep into that line of thinking, Lucian. When something happens to you, he suffers even more because he’s not in control. He can’t do shit but watch.”

Another thing we’d drilled into the skulls of our members for as long as I could remember. When a sub fucked up, the sub suffered. When a Dom fucked up…the sub suffered.

My eyes started burning as I tried to see things from Cameron’s perspective. What it would be like to watch a loved one wreck himself—all while that person constantly swore to always be there.

Fucking hell, I was the lowest of the low. And to think, I’d given myself a pat on the back for never canceling plans. I’d been firm on being honest about working late, rather than promising I’d be home early and then calling to say I couldn’t make it.

Talk about setting the bar low.

“I don’t need to tell you any of this, do I? You already know.”

I sniffled and cleared my throat, and I exhaled unsteadily. “Knowledge doesn’t necessarily prevent stupidity. Evidently.”

Greer hummed. “Question now is, what’re you gonna do about it? You’re one of the best men I know, so I expect it to blow my fuckin’ mind.”

I croaked a chuckle and wiped at my cheek. “I can always trust you to raise the bar, my friend.”

“More like putting it where it should be,” he replied. “To be honest, I fuckin’ hate comin’ atchu like this, because you’re a Master worth looking up to. I expect more from you—because that’s what you’ve delivered in the past. You always put a sub’s needs before your own. You’re always protective. You’re always careful around behavioral conditioning and settin’ up structures that will affect someone’s mind-set. So… Jesus Christ, why did you think you could fuck with the entire foundation Cam stands on? He needs you. He needs you—to be okay. You are that foundation, in case I wasn’t already crystal fuckin’ clear.”

I screwed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose as the hits kept coming. He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t thought of today or been told by KC—and I was sure Penelope was going to give me an earful along the same lines tomorrow. And I had no response. What could I say? I’d overestimated my own abilities, and in doing so, I’d done exactly what Greer was telling me now. I’d stolen the very foundation Cam walked on. I’d ripped it away from him in the middle of an arrogant slew of promises to the contrary, how I’d always be there for him and that he could count on me.

“One last thing, buddy,” Greer said. “We’re part of dynamics where not just one person relies on us, but three. A lot more is at stake, and a lot more will unravel if you yank the wrong thread.”

Christ, he knew where to strike. I coughed to clear my throat, and I rubbed at my chest. I’d noticed this today, how different things were when one part was missing. And in the end, that was all we were. Several parts of a whole.

Greer cleared his throat too. “And now that I’ve given you a sufficient amount of shit, I’ll have your back when our mates get their turn in the comin’ days. Except for Pen—good luck with her.”

I chuckled thickly and scrubbed at my face again. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused briefly. “So, paint the scene for me. How bad is it? Do you have a plan, or are you just standing there ironing your suits with a lost look in your eyes?”

My God, ironing my suits?

I glanced around me, wondering what he’d say if he actually saw me. Maybe he’d call 9-1-1.

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand and gathered my thoughts. “Um.” Speaking of, my cheeks were probably a good place to start. “It’s the first time in probably six years I haven’t shaved in over twenty-four hours, so I’m moving into stubble territory.”

Greer snorted softly. “Oh, remember 2013? Our goatee phase!”

I made a face. “You could pull that off. I couldn’t.”

He chuckled. “I thought you looked fuckable.”

Damn.

My eyes stung all over again. Only a great friend could make you smile through heartbreak, and Greer Finlay was one of them. I sniffled and tried fruitlessly to compose myself, but it wasn’t easy when I knew Cam was in pain. Because of me. My chest tightened with a dull anxiousness—and fear. I was terrified I’d caused more harm than he could forgive.

The next time I wiped my tears, I used my hoodie, and that was another way to paint the scene. “I’m sitting on the floor in the kitchen. I’m wearing a hoodie and sweats, and⁠—”

“Jesus, man. Where’s KC? That sounds like a cry for help.”

I rolled my eyes as more tears fell down, and I shook my head to myself.

I couldn’t make jokes now.

Hell, I was falling apart. I felt pathetically weak, and the pain kept increasing. The tightness spread across my chest, but it was different. It wasn’t the Help, I might be having a heart attack kind of pain. It was grief. I felt hollow and too full of emotions all at once. Zero appetite, dry mouth—and I couldn’t fucking stop crying. If I didn’t get off the phone soon, Greer would hear it too. I’d go from silent tears and weak sniffling to full-out sobbing.

I don’t deserve you, pet.

I’m so sorry for everything.

I swallowed once more. “Can I talk to him?”

I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

Greer sighed. “Not tonight, buddy. It’s late, and he’s been plenty upset today.”

Fuck. I nodded to myself and sniffled.

“Look,” he said, “the last thing I wanna do is keep y’all apart. I love you both, and I fully believe you’re gonna work this shit out. But it’s been a long day, yeah? You need to rest. So does Cam. I’m sure he’ll be up at dawn tomorrow to hitch a ride with me when I head off to work⁠—”

“As long as he’s not doing it out of guilt,” I managed to say. I forced the words out, hating each one, because I wanted my boy here. Right now. “If I can’t talk to him, please tell him that, at least. He has no reason to feel bad, and if he needs a break to regroup—so be it.”

Kill me.

“Actually—uh,” he chuckled. “That’s where I was goin’ next, ’cause I got off track earlier when I asked if you had a plan. Because that’s what Cam needs to see, innit? He needs to see change. So, no, I don’t think it’s a good idea you talk tonight, partly because he just settled down to watch a movie with Archie, but if you have a stellar message for me to leave him, I’ll do that. In other words, make it good.”

I sniffled for the umpteenth time and took a deep breath. What he said made sense, regardless of how much it bothered me to have another Dom tell me what was okay and not. He was being a friend—and he was protective of Cam. Those were the friends I needed and wanted in my life.

What to pass on, though?

Christ.

I could give him a spiel about how much I missed my boy, how much I loved him, how sorry I was, and…best-case scenario—actually, there was no best-case scenario. Because one way or another, I’d upset him again. No, this had to be about the change. There was only one thing to tell him.

“Tell him I quit my job today,” I said. “For the right reasons—it’s important you add the last part. I don’t want him to think I felt pressured or I did it out of desperation.”

Greer was quiet for a few seconds before he responded. “Did you really?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes. Burned all my bridges too—I’m not going back for my last two weeks. I’m done.”

“Well, fuck. You shoulda led with that. This is the change he’ll need to see. That’s…that’s fantastic, Lucian.”

I only hoped it wasn’t too little, too late.

“It feels strange. I have no idea what I’m going to do besides resting, but it was time.” I rubbed my eyes and took a steadying breath. “Part of me can’t believe you won’t let me talk to him, even though…you know.”

I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“If this were Archie or Corey, you’d do the same for me. Or to me, I guess.”

That was neither here nor there. I sniffed and reached up to grab my blueberry drink on the counter. “I’ll ignore that and go with a simple fuck you.”

That made him laugh. “Thanks, but we tried that once after half a bottle of whiskey, and neither of us had a willing asshole.”

Why did he insist on bringing up 2013?!

“Go get some sleep, Lucian. That’s what I’m gonna do—after I have another cookie that Archie and Cam made today.”

I instantly narrowed my eyes and paused with the rim of the glass touching my lip. Possessiveness roared through me, not to mention sheer jealousy, and he probably fucking knew it.

“You can be a dick sometimes, you know that?”

He chuckled. “Yup. Goodnight, buddy.”

The bastard hung up on me, and I lowered my phone to stare incredulously at the screen. Then I shook my head, took a sip of the juice, and…fuck, heard the footsteps of a brat approaching.

Noa was a skipper.

I had no time to get off the floor before he appeared in the doorway, and he immediately feared the worst. His eyes widened with worry, and as I said his name cautiously, ready to reassure him, he yelled out for KC.

“Daddy! Lucian is crying on the floor! Come quick!”

For chrissakes!

“Noa, I’m okay,” I grated out. Most of my crying fest was finally over. With a grunt, I pushed myself off the floor and returned the glass to the counter.

“Maybe a false alarm, but he looks like emotions exploded on his face!” Noa shouted toward the den. A second later, he’d rushed over to plaster himself to me, and he reached up and cupped my cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong, Sir. Are you in pain? Do you need CPR?”

I choked out a laugh and hugged him to me. “My goofball—thank you for being another one who makes me smile through heartbreak.”

He looked up at me and frown-pouted. “Why are you heartbroken? Cameron’s coming home tomorrow.”

Yes, well.

I cleared my throat and wiped a quick hand over my eyes, hopefully for the last time tonight. “I worry that I’ve caused irreparable damage.”

He scrunched his nose. “No way.”

Oh, in that case…

I wished I had his optimism.

KC appeared in the doorway next, and he surveyed the situation and rested his cane against the end of the counter.

“I’m okay,” I said in advance. “I just spoke to Greer.”

“And he made you bawl?” he asked.

“Christ—must you two always be so crude? The situation made me emotional, yes. Let’s move on.”

KC and Noa exchanged an amused glance.

“Crude is kind of our thing,” Noa told me.

Oh, truly?

“Come on.” KC nodded toward the den. “Let’s cuddle away those red blotches on your face.”

With friends like these, I didn’t need enemies.

“I’ll bring a snack!” Noa went for the fridge and threw a glance at KC over his shoulder. “He can eat carrot sticks and cashews, right? There’s no salt or anything.”

He was standing right here, and…I supposed that didn’t matter at the moment. Noa was understandably going to double-check everything I said with KC for a while.

“That sounds great, freckles,” KC replied. “You can bring some ice cream for you and me.”

Great. Thanks. This feels wonderful. I’ll eat my fucking carrot sticks—you enjoy your ice cream.