by Bella Grant
“No. I left them at the hotel. I think I can manage seeing a woman in her apartment without three guards trailing behind me.”
Rafe stepped out of the car into the muggy night air of the city. Stanley called out his farewell as he slammed the door shut. He shook his head. Going to lunch with him might not have been the best choice.
The elevator of her building shook as it carried him up to her floor. Looking at his watch, he said another prayer, hoping she’d be home. Eight o’clock on a Thursday seemed like a decent hour for a woman to be home from work, but he knew how much she threw herself into her company. He wouldn’t doubt that she was still buried at her office.
The lack of security in her building concerned him. Considering her earnings, he would think she could afford a building with something a bit more forceful than a doorman half-asleep at the desk. He found her apartment and straightened his shoulders. If she told him to leave, could he do it?
After two firm knocks, he heard her call out that she was coming. His mind instantly shot to the dark place he’d been coveting her for the past few weeks. Get a grip, Rafe, you’re not a randy teenager.
When the door opened, a half-dressed Victoria stood before him. Her eyes flew open in surprise. “Prince Raphael!” He took in the sight before him. Her hair hid beneath the towel version of a turban on top of her head, while the rest of her was in plain view. The jeans she wore buttoned below her belly button, which he could see because she only wore a pink satin bra as her top.
“Victoria, I seemed to have caught you in the middle of getting ready.” He grinned while motioning toward her clothing. She recovered from the shock of seeing him and looked down at herself. Cursing, she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the generous swell of her breasts to no avail.
“I’m….um, come in.” She waved him into her apartment, locking the door behind him once he was inside. I was in the middle of something and didn’t even think about the fact that I’m not dressed. I’ll be right back.” He watched her run, barefoot, through the room and turn off into a hallway. The sway of her ass as she departed made his dick react. He’d been in her presence for all of three seconds, and already his body reacted like a horny teenager.
He looked around the apartment while she was in her bedroom. Not as small as he expected for a New York City apartment. The living room was simply decorated. A black leather couch sat centrally, with a large flat screen television mounted on the wall. In the corner of the room, by the fire escape, was a small wooden writer’s desk. What intrigued him the most, however, was the painting hanging over the piano.
Hanging on the wall was a charcoal painting of a woman, nude and kneeling. Her back faced the viewer. Her long hair cascaded down her lean back, and her hands were cupped together and raised over her bowed head. A light shone down from above the canvas where the background showed the darkest coloring. He could see Victoria in the painting. Her hands rose up to him, kneeling in front of him, very vivid in his mind.
“You surprised me.”
Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. He spun around to find her completely covered in a casual t-shirt, her semi-wet hair lying over her shoulders. “I should have called… would have called, if I thought you’d actually answer.” He tried to give a warm smile to hide his irritation over her avoidance.
She shifted her footing. “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls or your messages. Things have been a little hectic since I returned home.” She gathered her hair in her hands and pulled it to her right shoulder. The longer he watched her, the more she fidgeted. He couldn’t hide the enjoyment he garnered from her flustered face beneath his stare.
“Is everything all right? Am I catching you at a bad time? If you are getting ready to go out—”
“No, no.” She moved her hair to the left shoulder. “I just got in. I’m sorry, can I get you something? A drink?”
He closed the gap between them and gathered her hands in his when she went to move her hair again. “Victoria, something is wrong. What is it? If my presence is making you uncomfortable, I’ll go.” Liar.
“No.” She made no move to take her hands back from him. Instead, her muscles relaxed and her shoulders rounded out beneath his touch. “It’s not you. Actually, you are probably the friendliest face I’ve seen in days.” She gave him a weak smile.
“What’s happened with your business? It was booming. Could business have really taken that hard a turn?”
He led her to her couch and pressed her gently to sit beside him. She took a deep breath with closed eyes. “I’m not sure what’s happened, to be honest. While I was away, several accounts dropped us. I thought when I got back I’d be able to recover them and gain a few more. Like I always do. We haven’t had an open month within an eight-month period, but after next month, we have nothing booked. Even the weddings we were nearly done planning and have all been booked have dropped us. We’ve recouped our expenses and they’ve paid the cancellation fees, but we won’t be getting the full fee. I just don’t understand it.”
“Have you spoken with the clients?” He hated seeing her distraught.
“Of course I have.” She rolled her eyes. His jaw instinctively clenched at the action, but he reminded himself she was upset and not truly his. Yet. “They have no answers for me, no complaints about my service or my assistants, just a general ‘it’s not working the way I thought’ sort of reply. How can I fix a problem when I don’t know what it is?”
When she looked up at him, he saw the vulnerability lurking there and wanted nothing more than to find the people responsible for putting such sadness and worry in her heart and smash them to pieces.
“Has anything changed? New employees? New marketing company?”
“No, nothing. Other than going to your estate for that bit of time, everything has been exactly the same. I’m not sure what’s going on.” Her phone buzzed behind her on the end table. “I’m sorry, I have to see what this is.” She reached behind her and grabbed it, swiping the screen to get to the message. With another deep sigh, she dropped the phone onto her lap.
“What is it?” He reached for the phone, unsure if she’d stop him or not. She didn’t. He looked at the text message and felt his blood begin to burn.
I will be in New York this weekend. Join me for dinner on Saturday.
“You’ve remained in contact with Bernardo?” He didn’t even try to hide the accusation in his tone.
She took the phone from his fingers and shook her head. “No. He’s been in contact with me, but I’ve avoided him well enough until now.”
“The same way you’ve avoided me?” He cupped her chin with his hand and raised her eyes to him. “Tell me the truth. I know work is a bit of a mess, but why did you run from me? Why did you run back here and hide behind your cell phone? Do you find me as pushy as Bernardo?”
“No.” Her quick answer gave him hope. “You’re pushy in a different way.” She smiled. “He reminds me of a spoiled child who wants what he can’t have.”
“In many ways, that’s a good description of him.” Bernardo had his hands in many illegal activities, and if he was told no, he would seek his treasure with more aggression. “When you told him you weren’t interested in seeing him again, how did he take the news?”
“He asked me to stay, said since my project had been cancelled I could stay with him. He wanted me to get to know him, but really, I think I’d seen enough.” She turned around to put her phone back on the table, Bernardo’s message unanswered.
“And when you returned home, the clients began canceling?”
“Well, two had already cancelled before I returned. Why?”
Raphael scratched his neck. If Bernardo saw Victoria as a prize he couldn’t have, he might very well step in to make the situation work to his benefit. Having her company collapse would be a good way to get her to reach out to him. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?” she asked softly.
“N
o, but I will get you one. For this evening, let’s put this mess about the company to the side. I’m going to take you out, somewhere you can relax and let your inner self come up to the surface.”
She shot him an inquisitive look. “And where might that be?”
“First a question for you. Why did you choose that particular painting?” He pointed at the kneeling woman behind them. She didn’t turn to look at it. Instead, her gaze remained on him as her cheeks flushed.
“I’m not sure. It just spoke to me, I suppose. I felt in tune with it. I know that sounds a bit silly.”
“Not at all. Go, get changed. One of those flirty dresses I saw you wear.” He helped her stand and held her hands in his, brushing his lips across hers only briefly. Not enough. His hands framed her face and he crushed her mouth with his own, pushing his tongue past her lips and taking their kiss deeper. She made no complaint, nor tried to push him away. Instead, her hands held onto his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh. She tasted of coffee and smelled of a summer breeze.
When he pulled back and looked down into her dazed eyes, he grinned. “This time, you won’t run away from me. Go. Flirty dress. Don’t bother with makeup, and leave your hair down.” He turned her gently by her shoulders and gave her bottom a quick pat to send her on her way.
She took a few steps in the direction of her bedroom but paused to look over her shoulder at him with a fresh blush on her cheeks. “Did you just spank me?”
“No, I patted you. You’ll know when I spank you.”
The soft pink deepened, and she ducked down the hall. All in all, he felt their first meeting was going pretty well. She needed a distraction, and he needed her.
Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick message to Stanley. On our way.
Raven’s Nest would be the perfect place for her to unwind, and maybe he could find out more about her interest in that painting.
Stanley’s submissive had posed for that particular piece for him.
VICTORIA
Victoria sat in the back of the limousine beside the prince, watching the city lights pass them as the car wove through the streets. She tried to ask him where they were going, but he’d only smiled and told her not to worry.
Not worry. That’s all she’d been doing since she’d returned from his estate. She worried for her business. She worried about her dwindling bank account. And when she took a break from worrying about money and business, she worried about him. Worried that she had blown a chance she would never get again. Then she worried about her sanity. Imagining a life with the prince was insane.
“I should have asked you this earlier, but… What are you doing in New York?” She smoothed the skirt of her dress over her knees, feeling his eyes on her as she did so.
“You,” he said simply and pulled out his phone as it buzzed again. He growled as he tapped on the screen and shoved it away again.
“Me?” Her eyes widened with shock.
“Yes.” He threw his right arm over the back of her seat and turned slightly to look at her. His hand brushed the hair away from her neck, sending shivers through her body. “You wouldn’t answer my messages or calls. For fear of sounding like Bernardo, when I want something, I go get it.”
“And you wanted to see me?”
“Not just see you, Victoria. I want you. That simple. You.” His thumb traced her ear. Her pulse raced at his touch, and his words slowly began to sink in.
“Your betrothal meant that little to you?” The only defense she had against him was to remind them both that they had met because of his engagement.
His finger stilled on her skin and moved away, resting on the seat again. “I didn’t choose that engagement. Carmen didn’t choose me, either. We were both relieved when the betrothal was called off. As you mentioned, we have different tastes.”
“And you think my tastes better align with yours? Or do you assume while you’re in New York, I could be your plaything?”
He raised an eyebrow and ran his tongue over his teeth as though to buy himself time to respond. “I understand you have been having a very stressful time lately, which is why we are going out this evening instead of staying in like I originally had planned. To relieve some stress and to explore those tastes you mentioned. When I say I want you, Victoria, understand what that means. I do not want a toy for the weekend or even the month. I want you. Permanently. Mine, and mine alone.”
She stiffened in her seat as the car pulled through an alleyway. “I won’t be your mistress. I won’t do that.”
He gripped her chin, almost painfully hard. “I will never take a mistress, Victoria. I gave that promise to Carmen when I knew she would never meet my desires, and I give it to you, knowing full well you will.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, when I say I want you, I mean I want you to be my wife. To be mine in every way a woman can belong to a man.”
She pulled away from his grip and shook her head, sure she was hearing things. He couldn’t be saying this to her; it wasn’t realistic. She didn’t live in some Disney movie. Girls like her didn’t marry princes. And they sure as hell didn’t marry them after sharing only a kiss. An incredible, panty-soaking kiss, but still just a kiss.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
He laughed. “I assure you that is not the case.”
“You’re the heir to a throne. Your father will never allow you to marry beneath your station. Not to mention, we barely know each other!” She rubbed her palms over her skirt, trying to wipe off some of the newly acquired sweat.
“That is all true, except that my father will not have a say. He’s gotten his political marriage. Mine will be of no consequence now. And… We may not know everything about each other, but I know what I want. Don’t give me an answer now. Wait a week. Spend this week with me, and when it’s over, tell me what you want.”
She stared at him silently. The car had stopped moving, but she didn’t care. This man watching her so intently with a casual smile and fierce eyes waited patiently for her to let his words sink in. “A week?”
“I’m asking for one week. Stay with me at my hotel, or I’ll stay at your apartment. One week, and when we are done, you can tell me yes or no.”
“And if I say no?”
“I will get on the plane with a broken heart, bruised ego, and nothing but best wishes for your happiness.”
She scoffed. “You sound like a bad hallmark card.”
He laughed. “Too many hours of training in the art of royal pleasantries, I think.” His hand brushed her cheekbone, tucking her hair behind her ear again. “One week, Victoria. But in that week, you’ll give me everything. After tonight, when you see my desires, and you can admit to your own, we’ll start to get to know each other.”
“Tonight? What happens tonight?” Weren’t they just going out for dinner? He pointed out her window, and she turned around to look.
The car had parked outside the entrance of the Raven’s Nest. She’d heard about the club through blogs and Facebook posts of the kinkier side of her internet surfing. The most exclusive kink club in the city. Membership by invite only, and only granted after an extensive background check as well as personal referrals. She’d heard the interview itself could be as aggressive as anything the police would put a murder suspect through. It was one of the most sought-after memberships in the city for those reasons. It was safe. Not only that, but new dominants were not welcomed into the club, whereas new submissives were not only welcomed but often paired for training if the submissive wished it.
Turning back to the prince, she could only imagine the expression on her face. His was one of delight and eagerness. “You’re a dominant?” she blurted before her mind caught up with her mouth.
“Not really. A good friend of mine is, though. You’ll meet him tonight. Although I am definitely the control-holder, I wouldn’t go so far as to call me a dominant. As you mentioned before, I enjoy a more traditional lifestyle with my women. I call the
shots, I dole out discipline when needed, and I see to her every need.”
“That sounds like a dominant to me,” she muttered.
“Maybe in some ways. For me, it’s just who I am—no title, no character to role play. Just me… And now you.”
“I don’t have a membership. How will I get in?”
“You are my guest, and I have high ranking in this club. Not to worry. Stanley—the friend I mentioned—has already added you to the guest list. He’s inside.”
As though the driver had been signaled by some telekinetic force, her door swung open. “What if I don’t like it?”
“Then we leave. But I’m not concerned that will happen.”
His smile reminded her of a little boy about to enter a candy store with an unlimited budget. It was intoxicating. The little part of her that told her to stay in the car, that demanded to go home and to bed or to get back to work solving her company issues, was overruled by the tremor in her core that buzzed at the idea of finally living her fantasy in the real world.
She scooted out of the car, waited for him to get out, and followed him into the club.
The first hallway Raphael escorted her through was covered in pictures depicting artistic poses of women suspended with ropes of varying thickness and colors. Erotic in their own way, she found them also extremely tasteful, even beautiful.
Sometime during their walk up the flight of stairs, Raphael had slipped his fingers through hers, holding her hand. Walking down yet another hallway, she began to hear soft moans and loud slaps. The first crack of what sounded like a whip caught her off guard, and she stopped walking to look behind her.
He paused with her and pulled her closer to him. “It’s fine, Victoria. All of these people are here because they desire the things they are doing. These are the private rooms. Some are large enough to host a private party, and others are meant only for one couple. The main dungeon is upstairs.” She tensed at the word she’d read over and over again but had never dreamed she’d experience firsthand. “We aren’t going there. You aren’t ready for such a public display, and I don’t like sharing—even if it is just the sight of you.”