Tearing Down Walls (Love Under Construction Series Book 2) (9 page)

“Alex, thanks so much for everything. I appreciate it.” Vic shook Alex’s hand.

“You’re the best student I’ve had in years.” Alex clapped Vic on the shoulder. “Come back any time if you feel the need. But I think you’re going to do fine. You know, I’d like to teach you to kick box. I think you’d be good!”

“I don’t know about that! But I’ve enjoyed myself.” Vic thought about all the ground they’d covered. Was he ready? There was only one way to find out.

“So Alex says you’re ready. But what do you think?” Steve asked Vic as they sat in his office later that afternoon.

“The question is, what do
you
think?” Vic was bouncing his heel on the floor, nervous as a cat.

“The truth? Alex says he thinks you’ll do fine; great, in fact. But how do you feel?”

“A little shaky, but willing to try.”

“Gotta start somewhere. I trust Alex’s judgment, and I trust you.”

“You don’t know what that means to me, Steve. I won’t let you down, I promise,” Vic said, giving Steve’s hand a hearty shake.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” Steve said. “Tonight, you’re on.”

The club was starting to fill up, and the bar was busier than usual. Laura was drawing a couple of beers from a tap when she heard a woman at the bar say, “Holy shit, who’s that? That’s one extremely tall, dark, and hot Dom. Wonder if he’s got a sub?” Laura turned to see who she was talking about and nearly fainted.

It was Vic Cabrizzi. And it was a Vic Cabrizzi she’d never seen before.

The mild-mannered guy who’d sidled up to the bar and tried to make small talk with her was nowhere in this man. Vic was six feet and eight inches of pure, dark, steaming sex in leather. He had the top half of his elbow-length black hair pulled up in a half-tail with a leather wrap, and his torso looked like it was trying to escape through the skin-tight black tee he was wearing. As he made his way toward the bar, the crowd parted to let him through as though they were in awe of the masculinity gliding across the room like a panther. Laura’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to his ass, and it looked especially fine under those leathers, not to mention the more-than-obvious bulge in the front of them. The room started to get spotty, and Laura realized she’d been holding her breath.
What the fuck?
was all she could get to run through her mind.

“Well! Guess by the look on your face that you approve of our newest service Dom!” Steve said as he walked up to the bar. Even in the dim lighting, Steve could see Laura’s face turn three shades of red.

“Cabrizzi? Are you kidding?” she asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious!”

“Look at him, Laura. Tell me you don’t want that,” Steve grinned.

“No. I don’t.”
Do I?

“Liar. Have a fun evening. I’ll check on you in a bit.” Steve walked away and left Laura to stew.

“Hey, can I get a diet soda?” Vic asked as he leaned back against the bar. Laura hadn’t seen him come up, and she jumped about a foot. “Damn, woman, I just want a drink. I’m not gonna slap you or anything. Calm down,” he said, not even cracking a smile.

“Don’t you want your usual beer?” she asked, surprised that he’d asked for a soft drink.

“Nope. Against the rules.”

“Whose rules?” Laura asked.

“Mine.” She sat the drink in front of him and he picked up the glass. She couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were, long, strong fingers with just the lightest dusting of dark hair across them. Looking at them made her feel odd. “Can’t drink alcohol and keep my wits about me with a sub.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Laura asked, her mouth hanging open.

The new Vic Cabrizzi looked into her eyes and asked, “And what would make you think I’m not?” The low growl in his voice made her insides quiver, and she had to look away. “That’s exactly what I thought.” He finished the drink and smacked the glass onto the bar, then walked away.
What the hell?,
Laura thought. She looked down at her hands – they were visibly shaking.

Several of the unattached women in the club spent most of the evening talking to Vic, but most of them wanted to be collared by a Dom – right that minute. And Vic was not interested in that at all. They could flirt all they wanted, but it got them nowhere. He made it clear: He was a service Dom, and he’d be glad to fulfill their needs, but that was it.

“Oh my god! He’s so gorgeous!” one woman was gushing as she and another woman walked up to the bar. “Can I have a Bud Light?” she asked Laura, who pulled it and sat it down in front of her.

“I’d take him on in a New York minute,” her friend said. “I needed a sign that said ‘slippery when wet’ just standing there talking to him!” Laura wanted to hurl.

“I want to climb up there and let him spank me good, but he’s so damn big, he’s kinda scary,” the first one said.
Hah! Wish he could hear that!
, Laura thought.

But that left her wondering why she wanted him to fail. He’d obviously worked hard to train with Alex. She should be happy for him, that he was more confident and looked better, happier, than she’d ever seen him. Why did seeing him looking and feeling good make her feel so bad?
Maybe I’m the bitch that José says I am.

Laura felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she pulled it out to see an unfamiliar number on the screen. She’d advertised to try to find a roommate; maybe somebody was responding. When she answered the call, a male voice said something, but the club was too loud. “Hang on just a minute, please. I can’t hear you.” She looked around – no Steve. “Hey, Vic!” she yelled. Vic broke away from a beautiful, bare-breasted brunette and came over to the bar. “Hey, I’ve got a phone call. Can you watch the bar for just a minute?”

He frowned. “Yeah, but just a minute. Get your ass right on back here.” He’d never talked to her like that before, but she didn’t have time to worry about it.

Jetting out the side door behind the bar, she put the phone back up to her ear. “Yeah, sorry about that. Can I help you? Are you calling about the ad for a roommate?”

“No.” Something about the voice made her feel odd. “Laura? Laura Billings?” Her hands went cold and a buzzing started in her ears. “Billings?”

“Who the hell is this?” she growled into the phone.

“Laura, I’m so sorry to call you and drag all of this up. This is Brewster. Please don’t hang up on me.”

“DON’T CALL ME AGAIN!” Laura screamed into the phone, then hit END and dropped the phone on the ground. It promptly rang again; same number.

She stared at the phone. Everything was coming at her in a rush, and the earth seemed to tilt. She hit ACCEPT and barked through gritted teeth, “What the hell do you want?”

“Laura, please, don’t hang up. I need to talk to you. I want to make this right; we all do. Well, almost all of us. I hear a lot of noise in the background. Can I call you later? Or tomorrow? It’s important.”

“I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to call me. How did you find me?” she was whispering, feeling so weak that she could barely speak.

“Billings, I know it’s hard to believe, but I want to make this right. It’s eaten at me for years, ruined my life and I’m betting yours too, and it’s time to man up. Please. Let me do this, me and the others. Please?”

Laura’s head was spinning and she felt like she was going to be sick. It was a little late for an apology, but it was more than she’d gotten over the last sixteen years, sixteen years of sheer unending hell. “Call me tomorrow. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. That’s Eastern Time.”

“Okay. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Will do.” The phone went dead and Laura stood staring at it, her hands trembling so violently that she could barely hold it. After a minute or two, she walked back through the side door and up to the bar.

“Where the hell were you?” a pissed-off Vic barked. Then he got a good look at her face. “God, Laura, what’s wrong?” She stared at the bar, and Vic grabbed her arms and spun her to look at him. “Talk to me. What is it?”

Laura shook his hands off. “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone. Nothing’s wrong.” She grabbed the towel and started wiping.

Then she heard Vic say, “That’s a lie. I don’t believe it for a minute. And when you decide you need someone to talk to about whatever just happened, find me. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you can
always
trust me. I’d never hurt you, not in a million years.” Laura turned to apologize to him for the way she’d talked to him, but he was gone.

Vic retreated into the men’s locker room and leaned against the wall. He knew damn well something had happened, but the ice princess wasn’t going to tell him what or take any help from anyone. And he was done with trying to get someone who didn’t want to be around him to open up to him. That was a dead-end street, and he’d walked down too many of those already.

“Well, no action tonight?” Steve asked.

“Nope. Lots of nibbles, but no bites,” Vic said as he sat across from Steve in the back office.

“Patience. You’re a very formidable-looking guy. If just one bottom would do a scene with you, you’d be off and running. I was moving around the room tonight and listening. There were subs and bottoms out there coming just from watching you walk across the room. It’ll happen, just give it time.” Steve took another energy bar out of his desk and started munching away. Then he remembered to offer one to Vic, who immediately declined.

“Yeah, I’m confident it will happen. Just don’t know how long it’ll take.” Vic stroked his sjambok. It had started to feel like an extension of his own body, and he loved it, so sensuous and organic.

“Hang in there, buddy. It’ll happen.”

Then Vic remembered. “Hey, what’s going on with Laura?”

“What do you mean?”

“She got a phone call this evening and came back to the bar looking like she’d just found out that a serial killer had taken out her whole family. She was shaking and pale, looked like she was about to pass out. And, of course,” Vic added, “she wasn’t about to tell me anything.”

“She’s an odd one, very tight-lipped. I’ll hint around, but I’ll get nothing. She’s as locked up as the state pen at Eddyville.” Steve tossed the wrapper from the energy bar into the trash can. “She was asking about you the other day when you hadn’t been around.”