Whimsical Diva (A Whimsical Dreams Sapphic Romantic Suspense), page 1
Whimsical Dreams, Book Four
Whimsical Diva
Tiffany E. Taylor
Whimsical Diva
Copyright © 2023 Tiffany E. Taylor
Published by Painted Hearts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
About the Book You Have Purchased
All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, is forbidden. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.
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Whimsical Diva
Copyright © 2023 Tiffany E. Taylor
Publication Date: February 2, 2023
Author: Tiffany E. Taylor
Editor: Kira Plotts
All cover art and logo copyright © 2023 by Painted Hearts Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Publisher's Content Guidance:
This work of fiction contains scenes of disciplinary spanking, and other instances of light BDSM. In addition, this story depicts / makes mention of domestic violence / domestic abuse.
Some readers may find this content triggering.
Acknowledgments
To the blessed survivors—who preferred to remain anonymous—who were my resource and navigators through the ugly world of domestic violence. I remain in awe of your strength and determination. And to my wonderful beta team: Sam DeFiglio, Kim Gosselin, Maria Lau, Juliet Pishinsky, Tricia Potter, Ashley Ribeiro, Mysty Ross, and Hazel Tan. Whimsy wouldn't be the same without you.
ARMSTRONG PROTECTION SERVICES (APS)
The APS Management Team
MAP OF WHIMSY
Author's Note
When I wrote Whimsical Diva, I very pointedly made Isadora Nightingale, our fictional domestic violence survivor, a woman who seemingly had it all on the outside: white, straight, wealthy, talented, and loved by millions. It was important to me to make it clear that domestic violence isn't something only restricted to individuals who are poor or marginalized or part of an ethnic or other minority. It's a malevolent cancer that affects females everywhere, regardless of their race, color, affluence, or gender identity. Needless to say, it brought me great joy to bring Isadora’s abuser to a very satisfying end.
As a licensed hairdresser, my salon and I have been involved for many years with an organization called Cut It Out – The Beauty Community Against Domestic Abuse. Hairdressers are in a unique position to help abused women: We see evidence of scarring and bruising that most others will never see, a salon is one of the rare places an abused woman is allowed to go to by herself, and survivors often feel safe confiding in their hairdressers when they don't even trust their therapists or their spiritual advisors. Salon professionals who are involved with Cut It Out have small cards with resource information that they can give to a client, cards that are small enough for the client to hide in her shoe. Ask the salon manager where you go or your hairdresser if they are part of this very important program.
If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, you are not alone.
National Domestic Violence Hotline
1.800.799.SAFE (7233) | TheHotline.org
https://www.probeauty.org/pba-charities/cio/charities---cut-it-out-2020
For every domestic abuse victim out there who is lonely, isolated, and filled with fear: You are believed and you are loved.
Prologue
“You’ve got everything?” Nova looked at the small pile of luggage by the front door then at her older sister, Gillian. “I’ll be sending you the rest of your stuff when you’re settled, so I guess there’s really not much to worry about, is there?”
“No. There’s not.” Gillian threw her arms excitedly around Nova. “I will never in a million years ever be able to repay you for everything you’ve done for me, Nov.” Her dark hazel eyes shone with tears.
“I’ll text you and Mom when we stop for the night. It’s a long fucking drive to Albuquerque, but Kip has everything under control, he says.”
Nova shook her head. “What you see in a dude who has a name that sounds like a small, stinky fish, I don’t have the first fucking clue.” She grinned as Gillian rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, Kip is a really, really good guy, Gill. You deserve him after everything you went through with that fucktard, Charles.” Just then, there came a knock at the door.
Gillian opened it to a man with clear blue eyes and a perpetually sunny smile. “Hey, gorgeous. You ready?” he asked as he stepped inside the apartment and kissed Gillian. Next, he turned to Nova and pulled her into his arms for a huge hug.
“I swear to you…I will protect your sister with my life,” Kip vowed solemnly, squeezing the tiny brunette. “I love her, Nova, and it will be over my fucking dead body that anyone ever puts their hands on her again. Not while I still breathe.”
Nova hugged him back just as hard. “I know that, and I trust you, Kip. You’re a terrific man, you’re both so good for each other, and I kind of envy you…this massive adventure you’re going on.
“I hear Albuquerque is wonderful and the Goddess knows, nurses like you two—you, a critical care cardiac nurse and Gillian a kickass labor and delivery nurse—will have jobs the minute you land in Albuquerque.
“Now go, before you make me cry and ruin my bad ass reputation.” Both Gillian and Kip hugged her fiercely one more time then picked up Gillian’s luggage and disappeared through the front door.
Nova listened to the silence in the apartment for a moment then sighed and went into the kitchen to get herself a beer out of the refrigerator. She typically didn’t drink much—since she had to stay alert at all times—but a beer or a cocktail once in a while was okay.
Christ knew she needed one after the day she’d had today.
She slid back the sliding glass door that led out onto the tiny balcony and closed it behind her after she’d gone out into the balmy night. Seating herself in one of the outdoor chairs, she curled her small bare feet under herself then settled down to think about this shit show of a day.
APS. Now. Knew.
Fuck my life, she thought with trepidation as she took a healthy swallow of her beer. She stared out unseeing toward the park across the street from her apartment complex.
“The bad asses”—as she and Clementine Martin had nicknamed the butches of APS—had discovered tonight that there was quite a bit more to Nova MacLeod than they’d ever known.
That she was far more than just a tiny, snarky Whimsy femme and former professional food stylist, who was now a legendary ice cream artisan and worked with Delaney Malloy and Rowan Holland at the Whimsy Arts Center.
During the course of Delaney’s rescue, APS had abruptly realized Nova had skills and a certain kind of knowledge no food stylist or ice cream artisan should ever have. And while they didn’t have any details, they’d made it perfectly clear in the aftermath of the whole entire clusterfuck that they would be going after answers from her.
Nova leaned her head back on the chair’s headrest and groaned, the icy beer bottle clutched between her nerveless fingers.
It’s not like I’d had a fucking choice, though, came the acerbic thought. She loved Delaney—Delaney was one of her soul sisters and had been for a long time—and it was going to be over Nova’s dead body that Frank Bellwood would touch even one hair on Delaney’s head.
Everything had gone down so goddamn fast—Tina Schaffner’s murder, Delaney’s hostage situation…but Nova was an absolute master at rapid rescues, where there was often little time, if any, to think and plan. She had the process down to a science.
Nova firmly believed that APS was, hands down, the best protection and security company for women in existence. She had anonymously sent more than her fair share of battered women to them for their help over the years, knowing they’d be safe and protected under the APS umbrella.
However, there was a much, much smaller segment of abused women out there who didn’t trust anyone. Their lives were so severely in peril, a woman who even smelled like a flight risk could be dead at the hands of her abuser the next day. These were the women that Nova had helped to rescue for years, under the radar and unbeknownst to anyone, even her close-knit family.
Except Gillian. Gillian knew…because Gillian had once been one of those women.
Her beautiful, happy-go-lucky older sister, who had been spirited and playful in high school and college—and who had actually dated Teagan Malloy for a very short while in high school before they’d both decided they were much better off as friends—had turned into a wraith practically ove
rnight after she’d met Charles Galloway.
Nova’s lip curled in hate.
Charles was handsome and personable, an immensely popular graduate student who had charmed everyone around him. He’d lured a starry-eyed Gillian to his side with presents and flowers and all the right words.
Things had seemed perfect between the two of them at first, and Gillian had seemed happy.
Until Nova had noticed her outgoing older sister was becoming more silent, more introverted, and had even started dressing differently—frumpier, drabber, with long sleeves and long skirts even during the hottest days of the Florida summer.
She had repeatedly assured Nova that nothing was wrong and that she was just fine. But Gillian’s retreat into herself and her withdrawal from the lives of everyone around her had continued unabated.
It was Nova’s first lesson in domestic abuse. When she had unexpectedly strode into Gillian’s room one day while Gillian was getting dressed, and Nova had seen the hundreds of cuts, welts, and deep bruises that had littered her sister’s body, she had violently thrown up—and then had demanded to know exactly what in the fuck was going on.
Gillian had tried to excuse it away and lie about it, her fear palpable, but Nova wasn’t having it. She’d forced her older sister to tell her about the abuse she’d been suffering at Charles Galloway’s hands—and when Gillian had started to scream hysterically that Charles had promised he would kill her if anyone found out, Nova had felt herself going ice cold.
Gillian had been her first rescue.
Nova wrenched her thoughts back to the present. Since that horrible day eight years ago, Nova had become an expert at rescuing women who didn’t have anywhere else to turn because they didn’t trust anyone—not even an organization as noble and protective and upstanding as APS. They were too afraid and in too much danger to even think about taking the risk to contact them.
Enter Nova. Nova gave these women money, set up contacts and safe resources in other cities for them, often arranged train tickets in a circuitous route to hide their tracks, then helped them to simply disappear one day.
In a few cases—like that of that fucking waste of life, Charles Galloway—Nova had been instrumental in making sure they’d ended up languishing in a Florida prison for domestic assault and even attempted murder, afraid to pick up the soap in the shower.
It was a testament to Nova’s cunning—and the determination of the women she’d rescued to finally be free of the terror they’d lived with for so long—that not a single one of them had ever been found by their former abusers after they had disappeared.
Nova had managed to keep her secret life secret for eight years…but now it was all coming to an end because of what she’d done tonight. She knew the Armstrong twins and the Seven weren’t going to stop until they’d pried every single detail out of her…and they were going to be furious when they found out about the hazardous hidden life Nova had kept from them for so long.
Delaney had explained Sin One and Sin Two to her during a conversation they’d had not long after Delaney had been punished by Teagan for her Sin Two violation. Nova was uncomfortably aware that she had not only violated Sin Two, according to the principles of APS, but she had smashed the motherfucker into a billion infinitesimal pieces.
She groaned again, a trickle of apprehension whispering its way down her spine.
Trillian Dacanay was going to fucking explode when she found out exactly what Nova had been up to over the years. Nova lifted her beer bottle to her lips, trying to ignore the slight trembling of her fingers.
Nova had had a crush on Trill for as long as she could remember. That dark blonde hair, those light brown eyes…and the deep dimples that Nova had always felt she could literally fall into. Trill, one of the APS Seven, ran their Geek Crew, and had a formidable reputation as the smartest one of the APS bad asses—which was saying something, given their collective talents.
If I’m being honest, she admitted to herself with another swallow of her beer, I’ve always been somewhat intimidated by Trill’s brilliance.
But Trill was also sensual and predatory, just like the rest of the APS management team. A woman who found herself in Trillian Dacanay’s bed would find herself captured and claimed, if only for one night, until her very soul was devoured and her body had surrendered in a submission she would be unable to prevent.
Despite Trill’s slightly introverted, techie exterior, Nova knew deep down inside that Trill was anything but on the inside. Any femme who got mixed up with the handsome team lead would be hard-pressed to stay one step ahead of her, even as she succumbed to Trill’s deadly, carnal lure.
And Trill was coming for her.
Nova shuddered and picked up her empty beer bottle, pausing before she went in to scan the street below. She knew there was no way she could afford to get distracted by this situation, not with what she had on her plate at the moment.
Nova’s lips firmed and she narrowed her eyes stubbornly. As much as she wanted Trill—as much as she craved just one single night in her arms and in her bed—she knew better than to fall prey to Trill’s lethal charm and handsome, sexy body.
Moth, meet flame. Nova shuddered again. She was a big girl, she told herself resolutely, steeling herself against Trill’s hypnotic appeal. She had no reason to believe she couldn’t handle it or Trill…and it would be over her dead body that she would let either her raging hormones or the dangerous butch from Armstrong Protection Services take priority over the desperate women who needed her.
But as Nova pulled open the sliding glass door to walk back inside her apartment, she turned around and let her anxious eyes scan over the street one more time, looking for the gleam of dark blonde hair and a sexy, predatory smile in the moonlight.
Because Trillian Dacanay was coming for her.
Chapter 1
“Are you sure you have everything, Maria?”
Nova MacLeod stood in the waiting room of Tampa Union Station on a bright June morning with a large manila envelope in her hands. The fragile, jittery female standing next to her, clutching a toddler in her arms, nodded.
“I think so.”
“Good. Your baggage is checked in and is on the train, except for this small overnight bag for you and the little one.” She smiled gently at the tiny girl peering shyly at her from her mother’s arms as she slid the strap from her shoulder.
“This is Amtrak’s Silver Star train, and it will take you the whole way to New York City. It’s a 25-hour trip, so I booked you a roomette in the sleeping car. It’s extremely small, but at least you and Valentina will be more comfortable. I can’t even imagine a two-year-old sitting still in a train seat for that long.” Nova rolled her eyes and Maria laughed, becoming a bit more relaxed.
“Your mami and your abuelo will meet you at Penn Station. This,” she waved the envelope she was holding at Maria before tucking it into the side pocket of the overnight bag, “is everything you’ll need to get settled into your new life once you get to New York City, plus a bit of cash.”
She smiled into Maria’s eyes with warmth and put one arm around her in a hug. “Have a safe trip and text me when you get there so I know you arrived safely.”
“Nova.” Streams of tears started to flood down Maria’s face and she choked, unable to continue for a minute. “There’s no way I can ever repay you for what you’ve done for us,” she stammered when she finally got herself under control. “You will be in my prayers for the rest of my life. May God go with you always, because surely you are doing His work.”
“I’ve already told you the story of my sister, Maria. It wasn’t that long ago that she found herself in a similar situation as you, although she’s free and safe now. This is just my way of helping other women who find themselves in a dangerous domestic violence relationship and need to get out.” The two women hugged once again, and Nova watched Maria and Valentina as they exited outside to the boarding platform. She crossed her arms and leaned against a large marble pillar, intending to wait until the train pulled out before she headed back to Whimsy, and settled down to think about Maria’s story while she waited.
