Accepting love, p.1
Accepting Love, page 1
Accepting Love
Blossom Ridge, Book Six
Becca Jameson
Copyright © 2023 by Becca Jameson
Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Newsletter
About the Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Also by Becca Jameson
About the Author
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About the Book
Hannah
I’m deeply Little in my heart.
But no one outside Surrender can ever know.
In my real life, I have a reputation to uphold.
I’m a well-known public persona.
The vanilla world wouldn’t understand.
When I’m alone, I can be myself.
When I’m not, I’m what everyone expects me to be.
* * *
Zane
I’ve had my eye on Hannah for two years.
When I’ve asked her out, she’s turned me down.
I know she likes me. It’s obvious.
I dominate her, but only inside the club walls.
It’s against strict policy for me to pressure her.
So I wait and watch and hope.
And then fate drops me into her space, outside the club…
Prologue
Hannah
* * *
“I still can’t believe you’re married.” I flop down next to Giana in the daycare, letting my skirt flounce out around me. I feel like Cinderella when I wear this pale blue dress that has so many layers of tulle that it turns me into a princess.
Giana giggles as she lifts her hand between us, wiggling her fingers. We’ve all seen her engagement ring many times, but now there’s a band to go with it. “It’s so weird.”
“Tell us all about it,” I beg, wanting to live vicariously through Giana.
Lucy grabs my arm so she can use me as leverage to lean closer. “Isn’t it strange how different it feels? It’s just another band, but it’s so much more.”
“And your nails are so pretty,” I comment. She has a French manicure that’s out of the ordinary for her. Hell, it would be way out of the ordinary for me too. I’ve never had a French manicure in my life. Or any other type of manicure for that matter.
“Thank you.” Giana beams.
Lucy sighs. “I can’t believe you had a destination wedding and none of us got to be there.”
Giana shrugs. “I didn’t want something flashy, and Kendric was happy to appease me.”
“Where did you go anyway?” I ask.
“Italy,” she informs us dreamily. “It was so romantic. The most romantic place on earth.”
I smile at her and say nothing. She’s not wrong. Italy is dreamy. I’ve been there several times. But she doesn’t know that. Nor does anyone else in the room. So I say nothing.
I count Giana among my best friends. The other Littles who belong to Surrender are also close friends, but my interaction with them doesn’t extend beyond these walls. I know a lot about several of them because they are open and share their private lives on occasion.
The truth is I live vicariously through these women who live a good chunk of their lives in Little space. I envy them. Their world is not an option for me. All I’ll ever have is this. Two nights a week living in my authentic skin for a few hours. Some weeks it’s not possible, and I don’t get to come at all. I hate those weeks.
When I can, I’m here every Wednesday and Friday or Saturday. The moment I step out of the locker room where I leave my street clothes, I become someone entirely different. I know most people wouldn’t understand, but this is the real me. The other me who lives outside this club is a fraud. She does what’s required to pretend to be vanilla with the rest of society because that’s what’s expected of her.
Most of the time I don’t mind that woman. She’s happy. She’s lucky enough to have nice things. She gets to travel a lot. She gets to see the world. But she’s private and shy and lonely and she doesn’t feel like she’s ever truly “real.”
I’m so happy for Giana and her Daddy. Kendric adores her. He rarely takes his eyes off her. Even now, he’s standing just a few yards away from us just outside the daycare. He’s talking with a group of Daddies.
I’m trying not to glance over very often. Zane is here. He’s as dreamy as Italy. I wonder if he’s ever been there. He could be a movie star. Hell, maybe he is. I’ve never asked, and no one has ever told me anything about him, including him. He has dirty blond hair that’s always slightly longer than necessary, which gives him a messy look, especially when he runs his hands through it.
I’d like to run my hands through it, but I wouldn’t dare.
He has the deepest blue eyes that I only glance at sparingly so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.
The wrong idea is filled with irony. I’d give almost anything to stare into his eyes for hours. To sit on his lap and lean against his chest while he rubs my back and smiles at me indulgently.
That’s a dream of course. One I’ll never be able to fulfill. I let myself have a few hours a week at Surrender, but that’s the only taste of freedom I’ll ever have.
I have obligations. Responsibilities. A persona to uphold. If anyone ever found out about this side of me, I’d be ruined and so would my reputation.
I hedged for years before I finally joined Surrender two years ago. Fear held me back. Eventually, I stepped through the door under the guarantee that what happens in Surrender stays in Surrender.
The owner, Master Roman, is Lucy’s husband and Daddy. He’s the only person at the club who knows how important it is to me to keep my identity a secret. Even he has no idea why—as far as I know.
I’ve grown more trusting in the past two years as I’ve acknowledged that my privacy is indeed respected here. No one asks me anything about myself, and I share nothing.
The only reason Giana and I are so close is because we joined Surrender at the same time. We huddled together in those early days, feeling awkward and out of sorts. It bonded us. At the time, Giana hadn’t even admitted to herself she was Little. She was simply a new club member like me.
I’m so deep in my thoughts that I don’t notice that the other Littles around me have dispersed, leaving me and Giana alone on the carpet.
She’s grinning. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” I ask, though I know the answer.
“That thing where you go into your head and sigh.” She’s smiling warmly though. She reaches out and clasps my hand.
I shake off my melancholy and force a smile. “I’m fine. What do you want to do tonight? Color? Puzzles? Games? Or some sort of shenanigans that will end with the two of us standing in the corner with sore bottoms?”
Giana giggles. “It’s been a while since I’ve engaged in shenanigans. We should do that.”
I clap my hands together. This is my favorite part of being Little. In my real life I’m proper and reserved, quiet, bashful, introverted. When I’m Little, I have a different personality. I’m outgoing and naughty and sometimes I get into trouble. I’m sassy and talk back to the Daddies.
Since I don’t have my own Daddy, there are plenty of men around who are willing to lift my skirt and swat my bottom for me. It’s one of my only indulgences. A secret fetish.
I have strict boundaries, mostly for my own sanity. I don’t let anyone see me naked. No one pulls my panties down. I keep everything platonic when I’m at Surrender.
That’s not to say I don’t feel things that make me want more. It’s just that I deny myself. I refuse to let my Little get involved with anyone beyond silly interactions that often land me over a knee.
Giana glances toward the Daddies who are still talking. When she looks back, she’s grinning. “He’s watching you again,” she whispers.
“Who?” I know exactly who she’s talking about.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know. I see you look for him. I know you like him. How many times has he asked you out?”
I shrug. “Only a few. How many times did Kendric ask you out before you said yes?” I ask to turn the tables.
She groans. “Touché.” She grabs my hands. “Come on. Let’s come up with something naughty to do.”
We push to standing. I have the sudden urge to hug her, and I do. When I release her, I cover up my odd need by saying, “I’m so happy for you. I hope your marriage is amazing.”
“Thank you. Now, it’s your turn to find a Dadd y and get married and live happily ever after.”
I smile. My chest feels tight. I wish that were in the cards for me, but it’s not. There is no universe in which I could ever have my cake and eat it too. I let go of that pipe dream a long time ago.
When I glance toward Zane, he’s watching me. I know he likes me. The feeling is mutual. If only I were someone else in an alternative universe…
Chapter 1
Zane
* * *
“And you have a Steinway for her to use, correct, Mr. Slade?”
I nod. “I do. Both of the pianos in this studio are Steinways. Don’t worry about a thing.”
I don’t usually meet with managers in my studio. I have people who can handle these arrangements, but this is for a special client, so I want to make sure her manager is happy.
Carolina Fraser. Granddaughter of the late William Fraser, who wowed audiences for decades with his skills at the piano. I’ve never met his granddaughter, but I understand she’s also an amazing pianist.
Carolina has graciously agreed to perform for a special charity orchestra concert in which each of the members of the orchestra will have their part recorded all over the globe. I’m honored she has chosen my studio for her recording sessions.
“Excellent.” Audrey Simone, Carolina’s manager, wanders around my studio slowly, her gaze scanning all over the place. “Has this particular studio been renovated lately?”
It’s an odd question, but I’m not surprised Ms. Simone is so discerning. After all, she knows more about music in general and venues in particular than most humans.
I’d guess her to be in her mid-fifties, and she’s been with the Fraser family for at least two decades. She worked for William before Carolina was old enough to reach the keys.
I’ve done my homework. I know Audrey Simone is more than a simple manager to Carolina. She’s a member of the Fraser family—though as far as I know, Carolina has no siblings and her parents died in a freak accident when she was only two.
“Yes. It’s got state of the art acoustics,” I inform her proudly. I’m sure she already knew this, which was why she agreed to have Carolina use my studio for her recording.
The internet has provided me with very few current personal details about Carolina. From what I’ve gleaned, I have to assume she’s rather reclusive. She performs all over the world, but when she’s home, she is rarely seen in public.
I know Carolina is twenty-five years old; the few photos of her on the internet are live shots of her performing. Her face is usually down, her expression intent. In the moment.
“The reason I ask,” Audrey continues, “is because Carolina has recently moved into a new home. She purchased it specifically for the amazing music room, which is the focal point in the house, of course.”
“Of course,” I agree. Though I can play the piano and several other instruments, I’m nowhere near as accomplished as someone like Carolina. However, I too would choose a home based on the music room without hesitation.
“The trouble is the room has the most appalling acoustics. It desperately needs renovations. Would you mind coming to the house to make some suggestions?” Audrey stops wandering to look directly at me.
I’m shocked. Stunned speechless. Come to their home?
Ms. Simone continues. “I know it’s an unusual request, but I’m certain you’ll know better than anyone what the room will need. I’ll trust your opinion above anyone’s. If I hire a stranger to come into the home, they will only care about their pocketbooks.”
I stare at her. There is no way I will turn her down, no matter how unusual her request is. There are only a handful of people for whom I would even consider such a request, but Carolina Fraser is one of them.
“I’d be honored.”
Ms. Simone smiles warmly. I feel confident she’s a kind woman who has nothing but Carolina’s best interests at heart. “Thank you. Would tomorrow work? Say ten?”
I nod. “Message me the address, and I’ll be there.”
Ms. Simone steps closer and holds out a hand. “I can’t thank you enough. And your studio is amazing. Carolina will be pleased to record here.”
“I’ll have my manager get in touch with you to set up a schedule.”
Ms. Simone nods as she heads toward the door. She’s a very shrewd businesswoman. Everything about her screams “don’t fuck with my client” from her business suit to her practical black pumps to the bun in her hair. It’s not a tight bun, but a soft loose bun that suggests she’s also capable of letting her hair down.
Today couldn’t have been any weirder if it tried. Tomorrow is going to top it in spades. I wonder if Carolina will be home when I visit her house. I secretly hope so. It’s not necessary of course. Ms. Simone is perfectly capable of managing the renovations. But I’d so like to meet the elusive Carolina Fraser.
Chapter 2
Zane
* * *
I arrive at the address Ms. Simone sent me at nine-fifty. I don’t want to arrive too early, but I’m a punctual man, and I do like to arrive a few minutes before expected.
The outside of Carolina’s home is lovely. It’s an older home in a quaint neighborhood with mature trees. A trellis is heavily laden with vines that climb up the side of the house and wrap around to the front as if they’ve run out of breathing room and have claimed more than their fair share of the space.
The house is red brick with black shutters and trim. The front porch is inviting with a hanging porch swing and several colorful potted plants. The front door is tall, which is a good indication the entire first story has high ceilings, typical of the year this house was built.
Even before I step onto the porch I can hear the melodious sounds coming from inside. I hope that means Ms. Fraser is playing and I’ll get to meet her. I realize I’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet her when she comes to my studio, but I’d rather meet her ahead of time. One on one would be even better. It will help me get a feel for who she is so I can react accordingly when she arrives at the studio.
I’ve barely finished knocking before the door opens. Ms. Simone greets me with a smile. “Thank you so much for coming.” She takes several steps back to let me in.
Now that I’m inside, I can’t help but feel all the passion and emotion coming from somewhere in the house. My God, this woman is amazing. No wonder she was invited to participate in the collaborative orchestra. Her playing nearly brings me to my knees.
I don’t know enough about classical music to identify what I’m hearing, but it’s something famous. I’ve certainly heard it before.
Ms. Simone lifts her phone in front of her and looks at the screen before glancing at me. “I’m so very sorry. I have to take this call. Please head straight toward the back of the house. Carolina is expecting you. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Ms. Simone rattles all of that off quickly before answering the phone as she rushes toward what appears to be a library to the right of the foyer.
The front door isn’t even closed yet, and I find myself alone with this amazing architecture and the fabulous background music. I ease the door shut as though even the smallest snick might disrupt the ambiance.
Taking Ms. Simone’s advice, I wander deeper into the house. It’s not difficult to follow the music. This piece is long. I may not know much, but I can tell it has not reached its crescendo.
Glancing left and right, I’m awed by every aspect of the home itself. Much of the turn-of-the-century house has been preserved. There have been obvious updates, electricity for example, but the hardwood floors, wainscoting, and floorboards are all original.
Ms. Fraser paid a pretty penny for this. I know she’s an amazing pianist, but even the best of the best don’t make a fortune doing what they love. I’m sure I could count the number of pianists who make high six figures these days on one hand. I would probably know if Ms. Fraser were one of them.
