by Callie Hart
“Pick a direction,” he tells me.
I glance around, drinking everything in. To our right, a street vendor is selling fish and chips from a food truck, and the smell of salt and vinegar hits the back of my nose, carried on the breeze. It’s crazy how accurate this program is. Crazy . I can’t even begin to comprehend how it all works.
Raphael and I walk along the riverside, watching small boats zip up and down the waterway. Every fifty feet, we need to take a left, Raphael shifting the simulation so we can keep moving. Eventually, we come to a large square, restaurants and bars lining the open courtyard-like area, and Raphael draws me to a halt.
“Have you been here before?” I ask.
“Yes. I’ve been here in real life. I spent a summer living in London seven years ago. It’s one of my favorite cities. Holds some pretty fond memories for me.” He looks around wistfully, his eyes landing on the water fountain that’s happily gurgling away about fifteen feet from where we’re standing.
“I don’t think I ever stood here, though. This view is new to me,” he says. His eyes, usually so bright and sharp, are somehow slightly unfocused, and for the very first time he looks less like a honed weapon, fixated on its target. He simply looks like a man, wandering, lost in his memories.
He looks down at me, and that soft edge remains for a second. His eyes travel over my forehead, my hairline, down the bridge of my nose, over my lips, my jawline, my cheekbones. He settles on my eyes last of all. “You’re more beautiful than this city, Beth. More beautiful than any city I’ve ever stepped foot in.”
Heat blossoms in my cheeks. “Don’t—don’t say that. It’s not true.”
“It is, I assure you. There’s something about you that intrigues me more than a place, a landscape, or a work of art ever could.” His hand tightens around mine. I try to take a step back, but he draws me closer instead, stepping into me at the same time. Our chests are flush with one another, his chin level with the top of my head. He reaches around me, sliding his free hand into place so that it’s resting in the small of my back.
“I’m going to kiss you, Beth. I’m going to claim our first kiss.”
“You can’t just claim something from me. That would be just like the man who claimed something from my mother.”
Raphael shakes his head slowly. “No. Not like him. Never like him. I’ll never take from you without your consent. You will always have the right to say no with me. If you don’t want this, if you don’t want me to kiss you, say so now and I’ll back the fuck off.”
I gape up at him. I don’t know how to react.
“You’re not telling me to let you go,” he whispers. His mouth lowers, barely an inch away from mine.
How can he just… what does he think he’s…the very nerve of the…man…I just can’t seem to…
I stare into those eyes of his, my body locked, my spine straight, my lips tingling. I should push him away. I should slap his face. Scream at him. I can’t seem to do anything but lean into him, though. He moves toward me, his actions drawn out, almost glacially slow. I know he’s giving me all the time in the world I need to reject him, to tell him this isn’t what I want, but my voice has fled me. My hands refuse to push him away. My whole body is magnetized, drawn to his in the most powerful, undeniable way. Closer, closer, closer… so close that his lips graze mine, the contact barely a whisper. Raphael studies me, his breath warm against my mouth.
“You’re not running,” he whispers.
I close my eyes. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking move.
“Open them,” Raphael says softly. “Open your eyes. Look at me. I want to see the moment you fall in love with me.”
What the… I open my eyes. Not in answer to his command, but in response to the sheer, insane levels of arrogance this man possesses. The spell is broken. I shake my hand loose from his, planting it in between our bodies, flat against his chest. I shove him, trying to reclaim some space between us, but Raphael refuses to budge, refuses to let me go. He reaches up with his now-free hand, burying it into my hair at the roots, and he’s not moving slowly anymore. He moves like lightning, stooping down to kiss me, pressing his mouth down on mine with unbelievable force. He’s not rough, doesn’t hurt me, but he sure as hell isn’t gentle with me either. His lips are hot, soft yet insistent, demanding. He cups my face with both his hands, and then his tongue is darting between my lips, tangling with mine, exploring my mouth, leaving no part of me unturned. He huffs heavily down his nose, and for a second I get a feel of what Raphael North is like when he loses control. His chest rises and falls against mine, and my mind goes blank. I’ve never been kissed like this before in my entire life. I’ve never felt a measure of attraction, happily simmering away in the base of my stomach, catch light and transform into an incontrollable inferno in an instant. I’ve never felt curiosity burst into flames of roaring desire in the blink of an eye. I haven’t known my own body until this very moment. Twenty-eight years have passed since the day I was born, and I’ve been so naive. I’ve never known I was capable of such a depth of need before this moment, and the surprise of it takes me out at the damn knees.
I was angry a second ago. Mad enough to rip the VR glasses from my eyes and storm out of the studio, but now I feel like I’ve stumbled over the edge of a rooftop and I’m tumbling, the ground rushing up to meet me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from falling. I dig my own hands into Raphael’s hair, kissing him back. A small, pained groan catches in the back of his throat, and he shifts, lowering himself a little. A solid hardness presses up against me, between my legs, and I let out a stifled moan. Oh god… he’s hard. He’s so hard, and we’ve only been kissing for a matter of seconds. Raphael tears his mouth away from mine, staggering back. There’s a wild, untamable, almost otherworldly light shining in his eyes, and I can’t fucking look away. He swallows, then brushes his hair back, digging his own fingers into his hair, leaving them there, elbows bracketing his face. “We’re electric,” he says breathlessly. “You’re electric.”
I don’t know what to do with myself. People walk around us, oblivious, the way water flows around rocks in a stream. If we were standing on a real street in New York right now, staring at each other, stopped dead on the sidewalk, we’d be getting lynched. People would be screaming and swearing at us for causing an obstruction. They’d be jostling us, shoving, trying to get passed us. And if they’d seen that kiss…it doesn’t even bear thinking about. We’d have been mercilessly heckled and whistled at. We’re in our own personal little bubble, though. No interruptions, no comments, no prying eyes.
“Did you bring me here to do that?” I ask him. “Were you planning on doing that the moment you asked me to do this with you?”
Raphael doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“You had no right. You’re…you’re so fucking full of yourself.”
“I am,” he agrees. “I have reason to be. I’m not just some guy off the street, Beth. I’m different, in the same way you’re different.”
“What…what does that even mean ?” Frustration colors my voice. I reach up, about to rip the VR glasses off, but Raphael lunges forward, halting me, his hand on mine.
“It means that we’re meant to do this. I knew it the second I saw that picture. You’re meant for me, and I’m meant for you. I’m going to find a way to prove that to you.”
I glare at him, hating the fact that he’s making so much sense right now. There is definitely a connection between us, no matter how much I want to rail against it at this specific point in time. I’m a strong person. A fierce person. An independent person. I call my own shots, and Raphael’s arrogance right now is trying to take that away from me. No matter who a person is, they have no right to do that. It’s frightening to feel this way about a man I barely know. More than intimidating. It’s enough to paralyze me with doubt. It took me years to build my courage after what happened to my mother. Years . I was a timid, scared person for a very long time. Every single act of courage I p
erformed, and every single moment of bravery I forced myself through was a hard-won battle. Raphael telling me in no uncertain terms that I am undeniably meant for him feels like he’s taking my free will from me somehow…no matter if I believe it might be true myself. “You’d better think of a damn good way to prove it to me, North,” I snap at him. Jerking my hand out of his, I remove the VR glasses. Raphael leaves his on, clearly still able to see a version of me inside the simulation. London has vanished for me now, though. All that remains is the industrial grey of the studio walls and the rubberized black coating of the floor beneath my feet.
Raphael moves subtly from one foot to the other. He scratches his chin, angling his head down, then he slowly slides his own VR glasses off, turning it over in his hands, studying it with enough intensity to melt the damn plastic. “Our bodies are aligned, Beth. You can feel the connection pulling taut between us every time you’re near to me. Don’t tell me you can’t. Don’t deny something so obvious.”
“So what if I do feel it? It doesn’t mean anything, Raph. We’re from different worlds. Our lives are polar opposites. I’m not just going to—It’s not as if I can just—”
Raphael holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Our worlds are one and the same. We’re just people, Beth. Who’s told you we can’t be together? Who’s told you we can’t make this work?”
“Common sense—”
“Fuck common sense. You want me, Beth. I can feel it pouring off you like wildfire. I can fucking smell it. I want you just as badly. Come downstairs with me. I want to show you something.”
“I think I should probably go home. It’s late, and we’ve both got a lot to think about.” I certainly have. I’m going to be thinking about this all night. For days. I’m not going to be able to think of anything else. Raphael shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. He crosses the room, packed muscle shifting over bone, veins standing proud in his corded arms, and the way his eyes flash makes my stomach twist and turn. Fuck. He is so goddamn sexy. Sexy isn’t the right word, though. The energy that pours off him is primal. Base. Deep and penetrating. He may be wearing an Armani shirt, the buckle of his belt may be an understated Tom Ford logo, and the shoes on his feet might have been handmade in Italy, but at his core, all the trappings and fixings of being wealthy mean nothing, because he is raw . He is wild. He is savage, and he is walking toward me with a look on his face that says he wants to eat me. Raphael flexes his hands, turning them to fists, and he smiles, flashing me perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.
“Stop over thinking things and come with me,” he says. He’s clearly used to people doing as he commands them; he doesn’t wait to see if I’m going to do as he’s asked. He walks right past me and disappears down the hallway to the left. I look around the VR studio for a second, my heart doing backflips all over the place, and then I walk slowly down the hall behind him.
What the hell am I getting myself into? I should have left the moment his arrogance level jumped from a three to an eleven inside the VR simulation. I should have been home hours ago, it’s late, and I’ve had more than enough wine. I’m not in my right frame of mind, clearly. I need to leave. I need to go home. And yet I keep putting one foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right, left, right, and with every step I feel as if I’m growing closer and closer to something dangerous. Something…wicked. “Don’t go to strange places with strange men, Beth. Don’t follow blindly. Don’t go into the dark.” Usually my mother’s words, rattling around the inside of my head like a screw in an old tin can, are enough to stop me dead in my tracks, but not today. In my mind, I close a hand around the words until I can’t see them anymore, until they grow smaller and smaller, shrinking, their importance evaporating. I’ve never done this before; I’ve never purposefully tried to shut out Mom’s warnings. Doing so would never have felt safe, but the interactions I’ve had with the other men in my past have been very different to this. I’ve looked into their eyes and not been able to break through their walls. I haven’t been able to decipher the true meanings behind their pretty words. I’ve never found anyone quite as honest and straightforward as Raphael North. When I look at Raph, I don’t feel that way. I see plenty of hurt, yes. Plenty of pain. I can see it all reflected inwards at himself like a mirror, though, not projected outwards at the people around him. He’s unlike any other man I’ve ever met. I know he won’t hurt me. I know he won’t drag me to the floor and force himself on me. I know he will never take anything from me, be that my emotions or my body. He just swore he wouldn’t. And I believe him.
Raph stops in front of one of the many doors that line the hallway. Nothing marks it as special or any different than the others, but it is. I know there’s something waiting for me behind that door that I’m going to find confronting. He stands perfectly still with his hand on the polished brass doorknob. He turns his shoulders, angling his body towards me, and he looks me dead in the eye. “Don’t run,” he tells me gravely. “Stay with me here and experience this. I just want you to see it. I want you to go away and think about it. I want you to spend some time imagining what it would be like to walk into this room and…participate .” He hovers over that last word, and I can tell: the idea of my participation, whatever and however that may be, excites him. Shit. There’s something very intriguing about this, though. I don’t want to be intrigued. I want to be disinterested. I want to be smart, more importantly. A part of me needs to know what lies on the other side of this door. I’ll forever be curious otherwise.
The idea of facing my fear in this particular situation feels very freeing to me. The concept of being free is more than a little appealing. I’ve lived a life overshadowed by fear. I’ve been crushed under its boot heel, unable to form normal relationships or connections with people because of the constant warnings from my mother. While every single one of my friends in high school were going out on dates, kissing boys, eventually losing their virginities, I was huddled under a blanket in my bedroom, biting the insides of my cheeks until they bled because I felt wrong and dirty for wanting the same things. Years have passed, and I’ve overcome so many of the obstacles in my life. I never thought I’d be able to maintain a relationship with a guy or have sex, but I managed to make that work with Robson, my ex, for three years. I can sit alone on the subway now without breaking out into a cold sweat whenever a guy sits close to me. These are huge accomplishments, and yet I still wake up some nights covered in sweat, imagining myself in my mother’s place, pinned down and unable to move as a faceless stranger pushes my legs apart and steals my dignity from me. What would life be like without that dark seed of rot twisted around the very root of my being? What would it be like to truly be free of that terrifying, awful day?
I take a step forward, nodding just once. “Okay,” I tell Raphael. “Show me and let’s get this over with.”
Raph’s smile turns wolfish. I’ve pleased him. Slowly, his hand turns on the brass doorknob and the door swings open. Gesturing into the room beyond, Raph steps back to allow me past him. “After you.”
My head is pounding as I slip into the silent, dark room. It’s a relatively small space—I can tell even with the lights turned off. The sound of my rapid breathing is muffled in here, like the walls are close at hand and growing closer by the second. My eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness when Raph throws a switch behind me and a small sconce on the wall blossoms with light.
My feet are suddenly glued to the floor. The room is empty bar a single chair in its center. No windows. No pictures or paintings. No mirrors, even. There’s nothing in here except the chair…and it is no ordinary chair. My fingers subconsciously rise, touching nervously at the base of my throat.
“What is that?” I ask quietly.
“I had it made specifically for you,” Raph answers. His voice is like crushed velvet, stroking down my back, in between my shoulder blades, making me shiver. “I wanted something special in here. Something only for you. Well. For you and for me.” Raph walks around the chair, st
anding behind it, placing his hands on the low slung back. “This chair was designed to restrain you while I fuck you. It can be configured in many different ways. For instance, with your legs held together…” He adjusts a small lever to the left hand side, and the polished brass stirrups at the base of the chair snap together, locking into place. “I can have you laying flat on your back if I want to,” Raphael says, lifting another lever underneath the seat of the chair, so that it pivots back, snapping home. “I can tie you at the wrist and ankle using these cuffs,” he says, pointing to the flash of gold at each side of the chair, low down, close to the floor. “I can also tie your hands behind your back and fasten them to this,” he says, showing me a small length of slender chain attached via a bolt at the very back of the seat. “There are many ways I can use this chair to fuck you, Beth. Once you sit in it, you hand yourself over to me. You’ll be making a very clear statement. You’ll be telling me that I have your permission to use your body as I see fit. You’ll be telling me you’re ready to overcome the thing that frightens you most. You’re entering into a contract of sorts. You become my submissive, and I become your master. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
God, where is all of this coming from? I look down at the chair, swallowing hard. It’s mostly constructed from wood, beautifully crafted, but there are areas of deep red silk here and there as well—on the leg braces, on the seat and the backrest, as well as lining the brass cuffs. It’s a thing of beauty, really, a work of art, and yet when I look at it I find myself shaking. So many ways for him to restrain me. So many ways for him to lock me into place, to make me vulnerable. It would be impossible to escape from this chair. If I sat in it and entered into that kind of agreement with Raphael, there would be no backing out. “Why did you have this made?” I whisper. “Why would you assume that I want to have a sexual relationship with you, let alone one…like…this ?”