Mastering Rayne (Club Zodiac Book 4) Page 2

  What stood out to distract from her huge brown eyes was the fading purple and yellow circle around the left one and the angry, red scratches down the other side of her face.

  It was a warm day in Denver. Midsummer. But London wore a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. Probably to hide other injuries.

  Colin sat in the chair next to his sister, across the desk from Rayne. He looked amazing. Blue dress shirt, khaki pants. Loafers. In the past, she’d most often seen him dressed in black inside Club Zodiac. Today, he was not a Dom.

  He kept rubbing his fists as if he might punch the next person who pissed him off, and Rayne couldn’t blame him. Between the guy who’d just left her office and the man who’d undoubtedly used London as a punching bag recently, Colin had earned the right to have his blood boiling.

  “I understand you’d like to file for divorce,” Rayne began.

  London shrugged. “I’m not sure. I mean, I certainly don’t want my husband crashing into your office and threatening you like that last guy.”

  “And you think he would do that?” Rayne asked, hoping to coax her to spill as much information as possible.

  She shrugged again. “He’s unpredictable. There’s no telling what he might do.”

  “Is he the one who gave you that black eye?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was soft.

  “Do you have any other injuries I can’t see?” Rayne asked.

  “Yes,” London whispered. A tear escaped her eye, and she reached up to swipe it away.

  Every time she met another battered woman, Rayne wanted to scream. It never got easier. She’d seen more than her share, both in the last year working with them and during her internship in law school as a legal advocate for a women’s shelter. Not that every marriage ended in abuse. Most did not. But she’d learned the signs early on. She’d always been the sort of person who kept her ears open and her mouth closed. “Did you file a report with the police?”

  “Yes.”

  “You did?” Colin asked.

  Rayne glanced at Colin who looked pale. His shoulders were slouched, which was uncharacteristic. Granted, the times Rayne had seen him in the past had all been at Zodiac or Breeze in Miami. On every occasion he’d been in full Dom mode while she’d been in her half-assed sub mode. In fact, this was the most dressed she’d ever been in his presence. That thought made her flush as she jerked her attention back to London.

  London nodded. “Before I came to your house.” More tears fell.

  Rayne handed her several tissues from the box on the desk. “When was this?”

  “Saturday night. Louis came home late, or early Sunday morning, I guess you could say. He was drunk, as usual, and he started screaming at me to fix him something to eat. I was asleep when he got there, but I scrambled out of bed and hurried to the kitchen, knowing it would be easier to comply than argue.”

  Rayne noticed Colin gripping the arms of the chair. He hadn’t been kidding. His sister hadn’t filled him in on these details yet. “Go on,” Rayne encouraged.

  “I had bacon frying when he stomped back into the kitchen. He grabbed the pan off the stove and slammed it through the wall. He said if he’d wanted breakfast, he would have asked for breakfast. He wanted a meal. Spaghetti or lasagna.”

  In the middle of the night?

  “I was so tired.” London glanced down, making herself smaller in the chair. “And emotional.” Her voice was so low, it was hard to hear her. “And then my stomach roiled as it had every morning for a week. I raced toward the bathroom, but Louis grabbed my arm. He started screaming at me not to walk away from him. Rambling on and on about his dinner. My stomach revolted, and I couldn’t stop myself from vomiting. Right in the hallway. It splashed all over the front of Louis, running down his shirt and jeans and shoes.”

  There was a long silence, during which Rayne feared she might have to stop Colin from punching a hole in the wall. She stared at him, willing him to calm down. “Are you pregnant?” she finally asked in a soft voice.

  London let out a long sob and wiped her eyes again. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.”

  “Not anymore?” Rayne asked, her own stomach clenching in a manner that threatened a revolt. She knew she wasn’t going to like London’s next words.

  London’s voice rose as she rushed to explain, leaving her face lowered to her lap. “He was so pissed. He grabbed my hair and yanked me to the floor. And then he started kicking me. Hard. All over. Worse than he’d ever done before. I curled up in a ball, but he didn’t stop. He just kept kicking me and calling me names.

  “And then he left me there in the hallway while he took a shower and changed clothes. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was too scared. In shock, I think. When he returned, he told me I was lucky he didn’t own a gun, but he was going to fix that and he would be back.”

  Rayne rarely permitted herself to react outwardly to her clients. She’d heard so many stories in the past year, she could write a book about assault. Besides owning this law office, she also worked pro-bono for the local women's shelter. Those women had stories that would make anyone’s skin crawl. But London… Jesus.

  Rayne sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop herself. She also stood and rounded the desk to set a calming hand on Colin’s shoulder, hoping to soothe him enough that he might stop white-knuckling the arms of the chair.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “Did he come back?” Rayne asked as she squatted down between Colin and his sister.

  London shrugged. “I don’t know. I called the police as soon as he left. They took a report, and then I took a taxi to Colin’s apartment before Louis returned.” She dipped her head and spoke in a whisper. “I was…bleeding. A lot. For several days.”

  Damn. He’d probably caused a miscarriage. Some days Rayne really hated dealing with so much abuse. “Was that the first time you’d reported him?” she asked in the calmest voice she could manage.

  London nodded as another sob escaped. And then she suddenly sat up straighter and met Rayne’s gaze. “I’ll never, ever go back to him. But I’m scared out of my mind that he won’t let me go peacefully.”

  Rayne nodded. “That’s understandable. But you’ve come to the right place. I have a lot of experience with abuse. I promise I’ll do my best to ensure you’re safe and can go on with the rest of your life.”

  “Thank you.” London smiled for the first time since she’d arrived. It was weak, but it was a start.

  Rayne felt Colin’s hand on her back, a gentle squeeze. A silent thank you.

  A welcome touch that soothed Rayne as much as it probably did Colin. Rayne had never subbed for Colin, but she’d seen him in action, and she knew he could calm a sub with his touch.

  It was incredibly inappropriate for butterflies to take flight in her belly at this moment, but it happened anyway. It had been a long time since she’d been to a club. Not since she’d moved to Denver. She’d had way too much on her plate to contemplate extracurricular activities.

  But Colin’s hand touched something deep inside her, dragging a need to the surface she’d ignored for too long. Perhaps it was time to check out the local scene.

  As she stared at Colin’s sister, Rayne pondered, not for the first time, at the logic of someone like her finding solace in the arms of a Dom. Someone who spent her days working so hard to help people out of abusive situations attending fetish clubs by night.

  She had studied law and abuse for many years. She was also well-educated about the nuances of D/s. It was clear to her that there was no connection between abusive relationships and consensual submission. The two were eons apart.

  Besides the constraints on her time, Rayne had held off visiting a local club on the off chance she might run into someone in her profession. Or worse—an abusive spouse she might have encountered along the way who fancied himself a Dom.

  The chances of either happening were slim, however, and after seeing Colin today, she felt a renewed need to venture back out into the scene. I
t was time. Perhaps she should even inquire with Colin about the local clubs. She knew he had moved to Denver to open up a new Zodiac, but he undoubtedly had the scoop on other clubs that were already operational.

  She could call him and ask a few questions. Or, she reminded herself with a shake of her head, she could google and keep her relationship with Colin professional.

  CHAPTER 2

  Two days later, Rayne was even antsier than she’d been while Colin was in her office. He’d left his card, but she’d done nothing more than flip it around in her hand between clients. It would be unprofessional to call him. His sister was her client. Presumably.

  Colin had paid London’s retainer, but so far London had only contacted Rayne by email to say she needed to think. It wasn’t unusual. Rayne saw this sort of thing all the time. Some women were so broken down that they were too scared to file for divorce.

  Granted, not every client who came to Rayne for a divorce was in an abusive relationship. In fact, she often represented men too. But fighting over money or custody issues never compared to abuse. And that abuse could go both ways. She’d seen her fair share of abusive women also.

  Rayne shoved from her desk chair and wandered toward the window to stare down at the street below. Yeah, she was fidgety. The need to take a break from real life and find a new club was itching at the surface. Something about seeing Colin had gotten under her skin.

  She’d known for a while that Lincoln, the owner of Zodiac in Miami, had sent Colin and Aaron to open another location in Denver, but she’d also known that so far they had only recently found a location and were in the middle of dealing with the zoning laws. So, the new Zodiac was not yet an option.

  Google had come through for her. There was another club nearby. Roses and Thorns. The man who owned it, Master Robert, was well-known in the area. She’d found him on FetLife. He owned four locations in Colorado. With the exception of some minimal communication with locals on FetLife, Rayne hadn’t met a soul in the lifestyle since arriving in Denver.

  She sighed as she closed her eyes, picturing herself submitting to a man. It made her smile as she remembered the day, several years ago, when she’d first met her last real boyfriend, Rowen. She’d met him at a bar. A regular bar, not a fetish club. He’d been the first to introduce her to the lifestyle, and though she had liked him and enjoyed his company, she hadn’t been able to mold to what he’d needed in a sub.

  Or maybe their breakup was more than that. She’d never truly allowed herself to dissect the reasons she hadn’t fully clicked with him. It was possible their issues had been mostly related to less than compatible D/s desires, but Rayne would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that somewhere in the back of her mind she’d also recognized that she’d never fully opened up to him.

  The truth was, she’d never fully opened up to anyone. It’s not done. It’s not seemly. We don’t air our dirty laundry out to the world. Her father’s words still rang loud in her head even after all these years.

  How many times in her childhood had he frowned at her and reminded her to keep her mother’s illness to herself?

  When she’d graduated from high school, her father had undoubtedly known she needed a change of scenery. A new life. One that wasn’t filled with the constant stress of her mother, who had endured many ups and downs over the years, but mostly downs.

  After eighteen years of tiptoeing around a house that was on constant diligent watch for one of her mother’s episodes, Rayne had applied to the University of Miami and heeded her father’s suggestion to move. Florida had been about the farthest she could have gone. She’d carried around a certain amount of guilt, but she hadn’t looked back.

  Had that guilt been a contributing factor in her inability to form lasting relationships? Undoubtedly. That and the ingrained need to keep her family’s private life to herself.

  It was crazy. She knew better. She’d taken several psychology classes in college before switching to law. She knew her father’s motto wasn’t healthy, but every time she would open her mouth to share, she would see his stern face and clam up. Even now, a year after his death, she could still hear his voice and felt drawn to follow his instructions.

  Such was the case when she was dating Rowen. She would never know if her inability to open up had contributed to their breakup. They’d parted ways amicably two years ago, and Rayne had remained a member of Zodiac—the club he was part owner of. It hadn’t even bothered her when he’d eventually found the perfect submissive for him—Faith Robbins. In fact, those two had gotten married almost a year ago.

  After her breakup with Rowen, Rayne had continued to grow and find herself in the lifestyle. She hadn’t had what it took to be the twenty-four-seven sort of submissive Rowen needed, but she had found that once she had a taste of the lifestyle, it was hard to walk away. There were aspects of the fetish world that made her horny every time she thought about it.

  A busy year in Denver had curtailed her weekend entertainment, but her practice was well-established now, and her personal life was not as stressful lately. If she ran into a client or someone she knew professionally, she would just have to trust that they maintained any club’s confidentiality rule. It was time.

  Seeing Colin, a known Dom, had made her think. Remember. Reminisce. Wish for something she’d been missing. She considered calling Colin again. Just because he’d given her his card didn’t mean she should open up that can of worms. He’d given it to her not because he was interested in her but because they had a business arrangement. How else was she supposed to contact him and his sister? London hadn’t provided her own cell number.

  The memory of his powerful hand on her back sent a chill down her spine, but she reminded herself for the tenth time that he’d probably been leaning more on her for support to keep from killing someone than anything else. Reading anything into his touch was ridiculous.

  It also wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t the only Dom in town. Perhaps her reaction to him and the fact that he kept coming to mind had more to do with her renewed craving to check out the scene than anything else.

  Yes. That had to be it.

  Granted, she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Colin was good-looking. He’d been in the army in his younger days. Like Rowen, he had the buff body and the smattering of tattoos to go with his years of service. It wasn’t lost on her that she found military men to be extremely attractive even before they spoke.

  She closed her eyes as she visualized Colin’s tall frame, his short-cropped, brown hair, his dark piercing eyes, and the bulging muscles on his arms, his abs, his pecs…

  A knock at the frame of her open door had her spinning around to find Shelly leaning in. “You wanted me to remind you to get out of here before four. It’s getting late.”

  Rayne glanced at her watch. “Right. Thanks. I lost track of time.” Daydreaming. She rushed across the room to shut down her computer and grab her purse. It was Wednesday. She needed to hurry if she wanted to beat traffic.

  She volunteered at St. Joseph’s—a residential mental health facility—on Wednesday evenings, filling the same job her father had done for years before he passed away. It was nothing like the work she did for battered women during the day. No one at St. Joseph’s needed legal advice or a divorce. They simply needed companionship, especially those who either didn’t have relatives nearby or whose families chose not to visit them.

  As Colin pulled into the long circle drive of this morning’s client, he took a deep breath and then wiped a hand down his face. Ever since he’d left Rayne’s office the other day, he’d struggled to keep her off his mind.

  She’d been as professional and feisty and fierce as he remembered her, but she also had new characteristic that troubled him. She’d looked exhausted. Not tired, but worn out from months of doing too much.

  Colin had no idea why Rayne had chosen to move to Denver after she finished her law degree. She’d apparently not spoken much about it even to Lincoln or Rowen or Carter—the three ow
ners of the Miami Zodiac. Nor had she mentioned the reason for her move to any of their respective women.

  He didn’t know why it niggled the back of his mind, but he felt confident, after seeing her in person, that she hadn’t randomly selected Denver as a place to live. In fact, as far as he knew, she’d been flourishing and happy in Miami. She’d claimed to prefer the heat and sunshine over the snow and cold.

  But here she was. In Denver. And he’d needed her services. Now all he had to do was pray his sister found the will to go through with filing for divorce. Yesterday wasn’t soon enough to get rid of her dick of a husband.

  Realizing he’d been sitting in his Tahoe for too long, he finally removed his seat belt and opened the door. The best part about his ability to drop everything in Miami and move to Denver had been his job.

  As a personal trainer, he could work anywhere. One of the reasons Colin jumped on the opportunity to move to Denver and start up a second Club Zodiac when Lincoln asked him was because he had two buddies from the army in the area who owned a gym. He knew they would spread the word and hook him up with clients. And they had come through for him in spades. Between that connection and his Miami references, Colin had enough new business to keep him afloat. Denver was full of wealthy people who liked to have a personal trainer come to their homes.

  In addition, his luck had blossomed incrementally when he landed a fantastic client his first week in town who happened to love him and had a lot of friends who were disgruntled with their current workout arrangements.

  After just two months, Colin had ten clients he saw once a week and a few others who preferred a more flexible schedule. He could still fit in several more, but this was paying the rent on the small house he’d moved into without forcing him to dip into his savings.

  As soon as Club Zodiac opened, he’d be set. Until then, he would need to be careful with his finances.

  His phone vibrated as he shut the car door. A glance at his watch told him he was still fifteen minutes early, so he pulled his cell from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Lincoln.