Bonne Chance: Bourbon Street, Book 2 (7 page)

Adrian chuckled and shook his head. “Mon Dieu, chérie. I imagine they aren’t likely to approve of you being a Dominatrix?”

“No. Not at all. Belinda as much as told me we were both going to hell.”

“Hmm.” Another sip and a glance at the door behind her. “And Boudreaux, he agreed readily to this?”

“Yes, Sir.” She sighed. “Well, he agreed. But he told me from the start I should be honest with them. He was hoping I’d woman up and admit who I am. And I hoped I’d have the guts to do it. But then Mom and Belinda kept shoving her fucking perfect life in my face, and I kept choking every time I had a chance to be honest.”

Chance felt a brief swell of sorrow threaten to become a tidal wave.
I really hope I haven’t screwed this up…

Adrian shrugged. “I have no issue with any of this, so far.” Chance stared at him, surprised, and he laughed. “Ma chère dame Chance, you’re his training Domme. You entered into a consensual agreement. Even if I think it’s a little on the side of the absurd, who am I to abjure when consent is given, and no harm has been done?”

Chance had to give him that one. It had been consensual, and since mutual consent and respect was what their entire lifestyle was based upon, it made sense that he wouldn’t object. The rest, however… “Well, it was working, I thought. Mom was happier. But I guess Bels thought I was showing her up, or something. So she somehow dug up the truth, I suppose to get back at me.”

Adrian drained the last of his bourbon and set the glass aside. “You have no idea how she learned about you?”

Chance shook her head. “I haven’t got a clue. You know I leave the advertising to you. But the only thing she mentioned was my job and that Landry was a client. No mention of the club or anyone else.” She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Honestly, I don’t think she’s out to ruin anyone. I’ve always been her target.”

The Maître nodded slowly. “I see. I will put things in place, in case, but I trust your judgment. You know her best.”

Chance let her head drop backwards until it rested on the chair behind her. “Part of me wants you to quietly take her out.”

Adrian gave a soft sigh. “Chérie…”

She allowed herself a moment to savor the idea, then discarded it with a wrinkle of her nose. “No, I know. I’d hate to leave my nephew motherless. Besides, she is my sister, after all. If anyone is taking her out, it’s going to be me.” Chance groaned. “I think I really screwed things up with Landry. He wanted me to tell them. I should’ve. God, I should’ve. If I had, none of this would be a problem.”

Adrian made a small noise of agreement, but didn’t say anything else. He stood, and a moment later, she heard the sound of ice dropping in a glass, then felt the cool touch on her skin. She grimaced, but gratefully accepted the drink this time, sipping while Adrian returned to his chair. “Je suis désolé, ma chère. As far as young Boudreaux goes, I’ll make certain he’s protected.” Adrian smirked. “He’s not the only frequent visitor I have from Toujours Fidèle.”

Chance’s eyes went wide. “God, I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Adrian raised one eyebrow. “Ma dame Chance, you’re slipping. You really should have dealt with this properly from the beginning. You have the opportunity now, and I expect you to take it. As far as your family goes, I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with them on your own. I insist.”

Chance gave herself a moment to kick herself, then took a deep breath and sat up again. “Yes, Sir. I suppose the only answer is to tell them before she does. Because she will tell them.” She bit her lip and leaned forward with a soft huff. “All she really wants is to keep her place as favorite child. Whether she tells them or I do, it works out the same. Actually, she’d probably prefer I do it, since that lets her maintain her perfect daughter façade. And at this point I don’t even care. I’m tired of trying to please them. I love what I do, and they can fuck off.”

Adrian grinned. “For true. That’s more la dame Chance I know. I assume this will be happening as soon as possible?”

She nodded. “First thing tomorrow morning, I suppose. Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid.”

Adrian winced slightly. “I never did like that analogy. Bon, come see me when you’re done with them.”

She nodded, and her shoulders slumped.

“But that’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

Chance took a sip of her drink, letting the smoky fire of Adrian’s bourbon slide down her throat, and letting her stall for a moment longer. “No.”

Adrian waited in silence while she swirled the amber liquid in her glass.

“Why did you ask me to train Landry?”

“I thought he would be good for you. Mais, I don’t believe I was wrong.”

She knocked back the rest of her drink with a wince and set the glass aside. “He is. He makes me want things, A. Things I’ve pushed aside.” Leaning back, she sighed. “I complain about my mother’s attempts at matchmaking and joke about my sister’s perfect life, but the truth is, I want that. Not the kids and the house in suburbia. God.” She laughed sharply, shaking her head. “Can you imagine me in suburbia? What a riot. I’d go postal inside a month. I almost did, going back home.”

Adrian’s eyebrow rose a fraction as he lifted his glass, ice clinking. “What is it you want, then?”

Chance stared at the ceiling, at the fancy scrollwork in the crown molding, the slightly irregular contours of the old house. “I want someone. I love my job. I love my life. But I’m tired of being alone. I want what Mom and Daddy have. What Bels and Darren have. What Cass and Ellie have.”
I want Landry.

The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy with the weight of remaining unspoken, and with the realization that this was what she was really upset about. Not Belinda, not exposure.

“Shit.”

Adrian chuckled. “Chérie?”

“Did I fuck this up completely?”

Adrian stood, coming over to collect her glass. “That’s a question I can’t answer. I suggest you bring it up to the sergeant and see what he says.” He set the glasses back on the side table with the decanters and turned back to her. “For now, I’ll bid you bonne nuit. You may stay, if you wish. I have—” his lip twitched in a sexy smile, “—other matters to attend to.”

Despite the frustration of her situation, Chance smiled as the Dom left. She was almost certain she knew exactly to what he was attending. The
who
was another matter altogether, but she had no doubt there was a who. Possibly more than one. But as the door closed and silence descended, Chance’s smile fell. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the unmistakable smells of Adrian’s house. Leather, wood, books, the lingering scent of his cologne and the undercurrent of sex that she always associated with him. She’d earned her room here, knew the winding stairways and tight halls better than anywhere she had ever lived. This was home, this was her family. And if her blood relations couldn’t understand that, if they couldn’t at least accept what she needed, then Chance wasn’t so sure she actually needed
them.

And the truth she’d finally let herself admit was, she was pretty sure she needed Landry Boudreaux. Which meant tomorrow…

Tomorrow I have to do whatever I can to make this right. And that means starting with telling my family the truth.

With one last calming breath, Chance pushed out of her own chair and headed for the stairs. Maybe spending the night there would give her the courage to do what she needed tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

Chance knocked on the hotel door and took a deep breath. It amazed her how even after a decade away from home, facing down her family still made her feel like the wayward child.

She knocked again, feeling slightly impatient, and the hotel door was wrenched open. Belinda looked at her, scowl well in place, and snorted.

“No fake boyfriend today, sis? Somehow I’m not the least bit surprised.”

Chance took a deep breath and pushed past her sister into the suite. “You know, Belinda, I don’t know what it is I did to make you hate me so much, but I don’t have the patience to deal with it today. Or the desire.”

“Cynthia!” Her mother’s aghast exclamation came from behind her, and she spun to face her. “Don’t speak to your sister that way!”

“It’s Chance, mother. I don’t care how much you hate it, you let Dad name me. So get over it already.” Chance sat, leaving her mother to chew on her words for a moment. In true-to-her fashion though, she shrugged off Chance’s outburst like it had never happened, and sat.

“You know, I don’t appreciate you cancelling on us last night with no notice, and leaving your sister to tell us.”

Chance sighed. “Landry needed to go, and so did I. Look, where’s Dad?”

Her mother pursed her lips. “Your sister thought he and Darren should go out for some breakfast. I don’t know when they’ll be back.”

Chance shook her head. “Of course she did.”

Belinda shrugged. “Dad doesn’t need to know. It’d only hurt him.”

Seething, Chance clenched her teeth. “Since when do you—” She bit down on the words, breathing slowly. “You know what? I’m done.” She stood, smoothing out her skirt. “Mom, I’m a Dominatrix. That’s what I do for a living. I’m a trained couples and sex therapist specializing in bondage, dominance play and sadomasochism. Landry is one of my clients; I’ve been training him to be a lifestyle submissive. I belong to an elite BDSM club, I get paid a fuck ton of money, I have complete say over all of my clients and everything I do for work and I fucking love my job.”

Her mother stared, jaw hanging loose. “Cynthia Marie—”

“It’s Chance! Chance fucking Gordon, Mother. Either call me by my name, or don’t speak to me.”

Her mother shot to her feet, her face a mask of rage. “How dare you say such things to me? How could you lie to us? And this… I cannot believe any daughter of mine would do such filthy things. To whore yourself out like this. No. I refuse to believe it.”

Belinda glared sullenly as she answered. “Oh believe it, Mother. This whole thing with Landry was a ruse to get in your good graces. The therapy practice was a convenient cover-up, a lie so you’d be happy with her.”

“No! I don’t believe it. We raised you to be a good Christian girl, not some cheap whore. It’s a sickness, it must be.” Their mother shuddered visibly. “Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me she’s sleeping with women.”

Chance took a deep breath and tried to find even an ounce of calm. “I have had a few female clients, though I prefer men. There’s absolutely nothing sick about it. Nothing wrong with it, either. Not the girls, or the BDSM.” She sighed. “It’s who I am, Mother. And I love it. I’m not even going to try and explain how I’ve seen more love and better, healthier relationships in the BDSM community than I have in all the years you forced me to go to church. Or how I find more connection to God in this lifestyle than in a group of shouting fanatics who really only love everyone when that everyone is exactly like them. I don’t expect any of you to understand, since I can’t even begin to see the draw of your boring vanilla lives.” She shook her head. “A part of me hoped maybe you could see that I’m happy, and that you could be happy for me.”

Her mother stared down her nose at her. “I refuse to believe that, Cynthia. You can’t possibly be happy behaving this way. I will not allow my daughter to parade around as a cheap whore, performing unnatural acts. Behaving like the devil’s spawn.”

Chance stood up slowly, shaking her head. “Get over your uptight self, Mother. I’m done trying to please you.” She turned to leave as the older woman gasped. “I don’t need your approval. But you’re my family, so I can’t lie and say it wouldn’t be nice to have it. I will, however, live perfectly fine without your approval or blessing or whatever, and without you if I have to. So the proverbial ball is in your court.”

She left before either of them had a chance to articulate any kind of response, barely registering Belinda’s sudden reticence. Though once she did notice it, it seemed odd. Bels should’ve been pleased, but she’d sat there not even looking at her.
Whatever. I don’t care anymore.
Shaking it off, she ran a hand down her clothing, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles, and headed for the elevator. Walking out the door was the most liberating thing she’d done since she first left Michigan, even if it was short-lived. She needed to find her father—telling him would be harder. They’d always shared a closer relationship, but for all that, she wasn’t sure how he would react.

“Chance!”

She spun at the sound of her name, slightly shocked to see Belinda had come running out after her. “What do you want, Bels? You won. You’re the golden girl. Congratulations.”

Belinda laughed sharply. “I won? You think
that’s
what this is?”

Chance folded her arms and gave her sister a tired glare. “Isn’t it?” She sighed, and leaned against the wall. “What happened, Bels? We used to be friends. We used to like each other. And then one day we were bitter enemies, and I don’t even know why.”

Belinda stared, slowly shaking her head. “You really don’t get it, do you? Daddy worshiped the ground you walked on, and I’d barely get a pat on the head. It didn’t matter what I did, how hard I tried. Mom, at least, I could please, and then it was
still
all about you. Even if it was only what a disappointment you were.” She looked away for a moment. “I’m not going to pretend to understand your choices, but even I can admit Mom went too far in there. I know said some pretty harsh things yesterday, and I’ve felt bad ever since. Jaden had kept me up all night, and I was being a bitch and lashing out. But you didn’t deserve it, from me or from Mom.”

“What the hell—are you seriously apologizing for Mom? You always take her side!”

“Because it’s the only way she’ll notice me!”

Chance stared in shock, trying to process what she was hearing, to formulate some kind of response. But Belinda continued before she could get anywhere.

“You’re still
you
, Chance. I’m not a person anymore; I’m a title—Mom. And yeah, it’s what I always wanted to be, but you constantly looked down your nose about that. And we come here and my God, you’re living the perfect life. You’re a fucking Dominatrix, Chance. You’re successful, you’re happy, you’ve got the perfect body, the perfect boyfriend—and don’t tell me that was
all
fake. You may not think so, but I really do love Darren. Heart and soul. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I
know
what that looks like.” She turned away and leaned against the wall. “I could never top your life. Here I am, this boring housewife, with stretch marks and a saggy belly, and a life that revolves around exactly one thing—my child. Everything Mom wanted for me. And still it’s all about you. ‘Well, Belinda’s settled, good for her, let’s go fix up Chance.’ Pardon me for being a little fucking jealous.”

Chance shook her head, suddenly wishing she had someplace to sit. “Bels, I…I had no idea. You and Mom were always thick as thieves. I couldn’t keep up. I couldn’t please her. It was always ‘Look at how perfect Belinda is.’ In other words, look at what a screw-up I was. I moved here to get away from that, from the weight of their expectations. I thought you were happy.”

Belinda sniffed, wiping at the tears that streaked her face. “Yeah, well. Nobody’s perfect. And trying to be sucks.”

Chance laughed. “Yeah. It does. Can I make a suggestion?”

Belinda snorted. “Well, you already told me to fuck off, so go for it.”

“Figure out what makes you happy. Stop trying to make Mom happy. Darren loves you. Talk to him. Don’t let the resentment and the expectation destroy you.”

“Is that why you became…?”

“A Pro-Domme? No. I became one because I’m damn good at it. And it makes me happy. It feeds a part of me I didn’t know needed feeding.” Chance took a deep breath and stepped closer to her sister. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to give up everything you wanted in order to be loved. You didn’t. And you don’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, well, Mom has her own issues. But you have to stop living for her, Bels. If there’s one thing New Orleans taught me, it’s that. Live for you.”

Belinda let out a slow breath. “I should go check on Jaden. You should…you should probably talk to Dad.”

“Yeah. I should. Think about what I said, Bels.”

Her sister nodded before turning away. Chance watched her for a minute, then sighed. She really did need to find her dad. Pulling out her phone, Chance brought up his contact information and called his cell.

“Chance, honey! I was just sitting down to breakfast with Darren. Want to join us?”

Chance laughed as she came out of the hotel. She didn’t really want to sit down over breakfast and discuss her sex life, but it needed to happen. “I’d love to. Where are you?”

There was some shuffling on the other end, conversation Chance couldn’t pick out. “Some fancy diner with pink walls, the old fashioned kind where you sit around a bar, but you should see the omelet they make. And apparently everyone swears by this place. I’m contemplating some of that pecan pie after this egg. Don’t tell your mother.”

Chance shook her head and smiled. “My lips are sealed. Sounds like the old Camellia. Did the sign out front have a pink fleur de lis with a bowtie?”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah it does. You know where it is?”

“I do. I’ll see you there in a few minutes.” She ended the call and hit the speed dial for Cassandra as she set off in the direction of The Grill.

“Chance! Damn, woman. I was beginning to think that Marine had done you in. I need details, and now. Where are you?”

“Just came from telling my mom and sister to go to hell.” Chance sighed. “They know, Cass.”

“Well, fuck. Are we happy or devastated? Does Adrian know? How much do they know?”

“A knows. And my mom and sister know everything. Or good enough. About Landry, about me being a Pro-Domme.”

“Damn. How did they find out? Did you tell them?”

“Belinda found out somehow.”

Cassandra swore under her breath. “Fucking cunt. I’m sorry, Chance, but’s a manipulative bitch who can’t stand not being in the spotlight.”

Chance took a deep breath. “Actually…she came after me once I stormed out. We actually talked, Cass. Turns out she’s always felt kind of trapped by Mom’s expectations. She’s been jealous.” She bit her lip, thinking. “It was a good talk. I’m not going to say we’re best friends now, but maybe we understand each other a little better. At any rate, I hate her less.”

“Hmph. If you say so. Speaking of the queen, how did your mother take it?”

Chance laughed, glancing at traffic as she crossed the street. “Predictably. And I don’t even care. I told them I’m happy, that I love my job, and if that’s not enough for her she can fuck off. Bels too, though after our conversations, I don’t think that’s where she’s headed now.”

“Good for you. What about your dad?”

She let out her breath slowly. “He and Bel’s husband are out eating at the old Camellia Grill. I’m headed over now to tell him.”

“Oh I love that chocolate pecan pie they do. You should have some. It’ll ease the sting.”

“I might do that. Cass…” She bit her lip, hesitating. “I don’t know how he’s going to take this.”

“I know, hon. But you’ll be fine. Want to come over after?”

“A wants me at his place after. Maybe later? I might need some pampering. And alcohol.” She sighed. “And I may have fucked things up with Landry by not telling them sooner. He was there last night when Bels confronted me.”

“Oh, Chance. I won’t tell you I told you so, because that’s the last thing you need. We’ll figure out Boudreaux. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to write you off. But hang in there, girl. We love you, and you love this life. If they can’t accept that…”

“…they can fuck off. So we all keep saying. Thanks, Cass.”

“Anytime, Chancey.”

Ending the call, Chance locked the screen on her phone and headed into The Grill. Formerly the Camellia Grill, the diner had been a New Orleans institution since the forties. The name change had come a few years back, the result of some legal dispute over a minor change to the logo. One of many post-Katrina changes the city had been forced into. Chance hadn’t really paid any attention until the new sign went up. But the restaurant itself had changed little—the service was still its quirky, amazing self, and the food was good as ever. Which was all most of the residents cared about.

The overwhelming smell of breakfast hit her as soon as she opened the door. Eggs, grits, bacon, steak…it all assaulted her. Chance wasn’t in the least surprised that her father had found his way here. He’d always had a soft spot for the kind of homegrown restaurants that New Orleans was famous for. It was one of the reasons she’d wanted him to visit for so long. And watching him chat up the waitstaff, laughing along like a regular, she had to admit it was good to have him here.

One of the servers looked up and saw her as she slid into an empty seat, and smiled. “Now don’t tell me Miss Chance here is your daughter.”

Otis Gordon turned to her with a wide grin and slid his arm around Chance. “She is indeed. My oldest. She must be quite the regular here if you recognize her.”

The server laughed. “No, she run with Lacroix’s crowd. Important people, your daughter is. What can I get you, Miss?”

Chance smiled. She knew she had a certain notoriety in some circles, thanks to Adrian, but it was always strange to see it. “I know it’s early, but can I get a slice of pecan pie?”

The server laughed a full-belly laugh, pointing at her father while he did the same. “Two peas in a pod, I see. I’ll be right back with both y’alls.”