“Olivia,” he said, a subtle note of warning in his voice. He did it deliberately, then had to fight back a smile when her scowl deepened.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she warned him. “Hauling out the Dom voice to get me to talk.”

He said nothing, merely sipped his coffee and watched her fidget, almost a neon sign advertising her discomfort. Olivia was normally a physically quiet woman, with very few wasted or uneconomical movements. Unless she was upset, or agitated—then she couldn’t sit still to save her life. It was only a matter of time until she broke.

“He gave me an ultimatum, all right?”

Interesting. He’d imagined a fight, or a scene gone bad. “What kind of ultimatum?”

She shrugged, a sharp jerk of her shoulders, and slid her gaze away from his. “The kind I couldn’t live with. So, that was that.”

“That must have been some ultimatum.”

She shrugged again, still not looking at him.

“Olivia.” He waited until her eyes jerked back to his. “I just want to help.”

“I know.” She sighed, slumping on the stool as though all the starch had gone out of her spine. “I know you are. It’s just…well, it’s embarrassing.”

He frowned. “Would you rather talk to Rebecca, or Amanda?”

“No.”

She looked so forlorn he wanted to scoop her into his lap and cuddle her. “They’re not going to judge you, fofa.”

“I’m judging me,” she muttered, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I’m just so mad that I wasted the last year hoping for…”

“Hoping for what?” he prompted. “Olivia. Talk to me.”

For a moment he didn’t think she’d answer. Then she blurted out, “I spent all that time with Kyle, working up to doing consensual non-consent play, and just when I thought we were close, he throws a Master/slave contract in my face and says if I don’t sign it, we’re through.”

“He did what?”

“And he wouldn’t even talk to me about it.” Her hands fisted in her lap, squeezing her phone so hard he could hear the rubber case grind against the plastic. “He just said sign it or pack your shit, and left to go to the baseball game with his friends.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He held up a hand. “You guys have been living together for, what, six months? And you haven’t done any CNC play?”

She huffed out an irritated breath. “Of course, we’ve done some. Like somnophilia—you know, when I’m asleep, and he fucks—”

“I know what somnophilia is.”

“Right. Sorry.” She shifted on the stool. “Anyway, we’ve done that, and scenes where I struggle and he holds me down, or I say no and he ignores it.”

“But?” Cade prompted when she fell silent.