by Alice Ward
“I think nanotechnology is an answer,” he confided.
“A big one,” I said, gauging his tone. “You’re passionate about it, like a boy playing with model rockets, but it goes deeper. Those closest to you have noticed it. It affects you on a personal level. That’s why you bid to host the World Science Convention in Chicago this year. This hits close to home, in more ways than one.”
I stopped, trying to read Noah’s expression, but he remained impassive, so I continued. “What is it? You can tell me. Are you waging some sort of war or something? Invisible robots who can crawl through the noses of your enemies?”
I meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but Noah took it gravely. “It is a war, of sorts,” he admitted. “But it’s not something I’m willing to discuss with you.”
Breathing deep, I tried not to take it personally. “Because I wouldn’t understand?”
“Because I could lose you,” he stated firmly, gripping me with his intensity. “It’s selfish, but that’s the way it is.”
“Okay,” I accepted, backing off.
Secretly, I was thrilled at his confession. Noah cared. Maybe, he even loved. That didn’t mean we had a future together, but it did give meaning to the time we had.
“So what is the lesson?” I asked, returning to our earlier conversation. “What level am I on now?”
“Total submission.”
My entire body warming, I smiled and set my hand on his knee, massaging his thigh, inching up to the power of his groin. “I thought we covered that last time.”
Like a lizard catching a fly, he slapped his hand down on mine, another lash. “The flogger taught you pleasure and pain. Today is about obedience. You must do what I say, no matter what.”
I glanced down at my clothes. When he’d woken me with his phone call, Noah had instructed me to dress casual, so I had, with a pair of beat-up tennis shoes on my feet, jeans and a concert T-shirt over the rest of me. Noah, of course, was razor sharp in his suit.
“I don’t think I dressed accordingly,” I said.
“You look great,” he assured me.
I perked up. “Enough to start casual Friday?”
“Never in a million years.” With vehemence, he captured my gaze once again, his hand squeezing the top of my own. “There’s no turning back, Imogen,” he said. “Tell me that no matter where we end up, you’ll do as I say.”
“I will,” I agreed. “Whatever you say.”
“Good,” he said, and to my discouragement, he moved my hand away from his lap, gently setting it back onto my own, as solemn looking as ever.
“The gala sounds like fun,” I noted, trying not to lose the amiability of the morning.
He smiled, but he kept his distance. “It’s full of nonsensical chatter. A woman as intelligent as you will likely be bored.”
Disappointed, I dropped my eyes. “I thought I was attending with you.”
“You are.” He lifted my chin with his finger. “Imogen Clare, will you go to the gala with me?”
Feeling mischievous, my humor returning, I replied, “Noah Stafford, are you proposing to me.”
He didn’t flinch. “It’s a type of proposition.”
“Then yes,” I accepted. “I will be your arm candy at the gala.”
***
Far beyond Stafford Estate, the suburbs of the city were exchanged for flat plains and rustic farmlands, where wheat grew tall and proud, and tractors were as common as pick-up trucks. The mellow Midwest.
We drove for hours, through small towns and county borders until I no longer had any sense of where we were. The landscape changed. Farmlands remained a pastoral staple, but green hillsides rose from the land, encompassing the cattle and donkeys that grazed in their shadows. Along the roads were fields of butterfly weed and Lenten rose, which grew alongside oats, corn, and snap beans. It was wholesome, connecting me deeply to the earth.
“Are we in Wisconsin?” I asked uncertainly, recognizing the formation of the land but having never traveled to wherever we were now.
“Northwest of Milwaukee,” Noah specified.
“I’ve never been this close to the Canadian border. If I’m leaving town, it’s always to head south.”
Or east, I mused, thinking of Thailand. For the first time in weeks, I wondered where Corey was and if he was safe. Well, relatively safe. As reckless as he was, I doubted he was ever completely out of danger.
I’ll find you, Imogen. You know I will.
Startled, I shook the ghost away.
“Or maybe I have been here. For some reason, I just experienced a flash back to when I was little,” I rambled, grounding my thoughts. “I ran around in a pumpkin patch, and my grandma made some comment about how cold northern skies were.”
“You should write it down. Maybe it’ll inspire more memories.”
“There are too many of them. That’s the problem. I had a great childhood,” I said lightheartedly, content with my nostalgia.
“If pumpkin patches were involved, then I would say so.”
“What about you? Did you ever visit any pumpkin patches?”
“No,” he answered indifferently. “But I have no qualms. We made our own fun.”
He referred to Corey. I was certain of it. Never before had he spoken of his brother without an air of disapproval. Based on the way he brightened reflecting on their boyhood, whatever had separated them must have done so when they were adults.
“Were you and Corey close?” I probed, testing my hypothesis.
“Very. Inseparable. He had his friends, and I had mine, but we would have done anything for each other.”
“Maybe you can have that strong of a relationship again someday.” I licked my lips, giving him time to hush me. He didn’t so I went on. “You’re young. A lifetime is a long stretch. I’m sure somewhere along the way, Corey will return, probably when he’s old and has arthritis.”
Noah tapped his hand against the seat, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’m afraid that may never happen.”
“But you would like it to?”
“Yes,” he rasped, as if a weight had fallen off his shoulders to admit it. “Very much so.”
Tilting, the car revved across a dirt road littered with pot holes, jolting us back and forth. It carried on for over a mile before the road smoothed, leading past a barnyard and water tower before coming to a stop outside a farmhouse.
“Talk about a wild ride,” I grumbled. “Good thing I was wearing my seat belt.”
Noah apologized. “The last time I was here, I came by helicopter. I should have known to check.”
“Why didn’t we come by helicopter?” I was curious, though I hadn’t minded the drive.
“I wanted to see the countryside, and I wanted you to see it as well. It’s important.”
The farmhouse stood three stories tall with a wide, inviting porch that wrapped around its base, but it was in shambles. Paint was chipped across the wood, discoloring it, and shingles hung loosely from the rooftop. It looked as if it’d got caught up in one too many tornadoes, but this was Wisconsin, not Kansas. The yard wasn’t any better. Rusted cars rotted in the back, and the bushes looked like they had never been trimmed, but the lawn was freshly cut, showing some reverence for the place.
“What is this, some sort of hippy love den?”
“Nothing close to that,” Noah informed me. “That’s not what this is about. Submission originates outside the bedroom. Fundamentally, it’s a choice that’s made before the whips are brought out.”
His mention of whips brought a blush to my face and sparked a nervous, needy energy inside of me that I swallowed back down, obeying his will.
“Do you promise to do as I say, Imogen, no matter what?” he asked again, his eyes lighting up with the secret he was about to reveal.
“Exactly as you say,” I vowed, wondering what this trust exercise was all about. His enthusiasm made me anxious, like something big was about to happen, something life-changing.
/> He took my hand and held it tight, as if he was comforting me. “I found your family,” he finally said. “They’re waiting inside.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My family is in there.
Stunned, I stared at the farmhouse, a collision of emotions silencing me. I’d long given up hope this day would come. In some ways, it was a betrayal of my grandma, as if all that she had given me wasn’t enough. But my mother was her daughter. She would have wanted us to reunite.
“I know how you feel about being alone,” Noah said, studying me with an intensity that had nothing to do with seduction or power, only friendship, and maybe more. It radiated off of him as he searched my face, undeniably making sure I was okay.
“My mom is in there?” I asked quietly, still shocked and finding it difficult to breathe.
“No. It’s your dad.”
I frowned, confused. “I don’t know who my dad is,” I objected. Noah must have made a mistake.
“I did a little investigation,” he said unapologetically. It was no confession, just a statement of the facts. “The man in there was a known acquaintance of your mother when she was pregnant with you. Using some of your DNA and his, tests confirm he is your biological father. I never would have brought you here if there was any doubt. Your father is in there.”
It wasn’t necessary to ask how he had gotten my DNA. I probably didn’t want to know.
“I’m not going in,” I decided. “He may be my father, but he’s not family. He’s a stranger.”
Like flashing a sword, Noah reminded me of his authority. “You agreed to do as I say. Total submission. I’m commanding you to go in there and meet your father. It’s not open for discussion.”
Frustrated, I mentally tried to use the Force to make him back down, but it didn’t work. Noah was a master of the Dark Side.
“Fine,” I surrendered, taking a deep breath, wondering if this had been Noah’s intention all along with his lessons.
Let go of inhibitions. Don’t let the insecurity of meeting my father hold me back. Experimentation, which was a formal term for considering new possibilities, including the prospect my father and I could get along. Accept that pain can bring pleasure. It would be difficult to meet my father, but joy could be had.
From his constant line of questioning over the last few weeks, maybe he’d always intended to use his resources to help me find my family, the true reward for agreeing to be his personal assistant. I would have asked him directly, but upset that he was coercing me to do this unprepared, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Gathering my courage, we went to the ramshackle door and knocked. My heart pounded in my chest, and I was nauseated, hindered by my nerves. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I muttered to Noah as we waited.
An older man with silvery white hair and a slightly hunched back opened the door. He appeared to be in his sixties. With sun-filled color to his skin and a clear complexion, he seemed to be in good health. When he saw me, his eyes sparkled, as hazel as my own.
“Mr. Bourne,” Noah greeted. “I’d like to introduce you to your daughter, Imogen.”
“I know she’s my daughter,” the man asserted, not at all intimidated by Noah or his wealth. “Look at her. She’s the spitting image of my mother.”
“I am?” I asked feebly, like a child looking for approval. I couldn’t believe this man was my father. My father. He was here, standing before me.
Taking a step back, he waved his hand through the door. “Come in, my girl,” he beckoned as if there was no distance of time between us.
Outdated, the years peeled at the house. The wallpaper was faded, and the furniture chipped. Brown carpeting resembled a style from decades ago. But it was tidy and clean. We went into the front room and sat on floral couches that reminded me of my grandma’s house. Dinner trays stood in front of a boxed television set, indicating the man ate his meals alone.
“Does anyone else live here?” I asked, afraid he was as lonely as I had been after my grandma died, before my move to Chicago.
“No one else lives here, but I have two sons. They check in on their old man now and again. They’re a little older than you, from my first marriage. I’m afraid your existence came as a bit of a surprise to them. They’re not ready to meet you yet, but they will be, one day. You’re their only sister.”
I have brothers.
The excitement of being reunited with my family was finally starting to kick in. If I had brothers, then I could potentially also have nieces and nephews, and sister-in-laws. Unless my father was an only child, I could also have aunts and uncles. Maybe even a grandparent that was still alive. I would inquire about all of them later. Right now, there was only one person on my mind who I had to ask about.
“And my mother? Do you know where she is?” I asked, more hopeful than nervous.
“I do,” he said rigidly and looked down. “She’s gone.”
My heart stopped. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died about ten years ago in a car accident. Some mutual friends of ours told me about it. I’m so sorry, honey.”
Numb, I didn’t know how to process the news. I had never met my mother. She was a stranger to me, and yet my heart was broken. Not for her as my mother, but for the future that could have been now that I had a link to her. At least my grandma was getting to know her in heaven. The thought got me through the moment, but it didn’t curb the anger I suddenly felt in my grief.
“Why didn’t you find me?” I demanded.
Not at all put off by my tone, he spoke remorsefully. “I didn’t know I had you. When she became pregnant, your mother insisted you weren’t mine, that your father was a biker from Milwaukee. We weren’t exclusive, and she had a reputation for prowling the biker bars, so I believed her.” He slowly shook his head, seemingly miles away. “I stayed in touch with her for many years, and she never said a word. How could she?”
Seeing his own pain, I calmed and placed my hand over his. “Maybe she truly thought the other guy was my father. They didn’t have sophisticated testing like they do now.”
His eyes teared up. “I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I would very much like it if we could stay in touch. I always wanted a daughter.”
I swallowed. “I’d like us to stay in touch too.”
For the next few hours, while Noah sat in the car working, giving us our privacy, I learned all I could about my father. He was a vet, drafted into Vietnam, but he chose to stay in the military long afterwards, until he finally retired to become a farmer and mechanic. Married twice, he was now a widower.
Saying my goodbyes and promising to visit again soon, I left, exhausted. A storm of thoughts raced through my mind and filled my heart. My life would never be the same. In a million years, I never would have imagined my trip to Thailand would have led to this.
“When the convention is over, I need to take a week off,” I said to Noah as I slipped into the backseat.
“Of course,” he agreed, studying me as he had before, searching to make sure I was okay. The ardor of his green eyes was like a tent, sheltering me. “Have you made arrangements to spend more time with your father?”
“I have, but that’s not what the week is for. My mother is buried in Arizona. I want to go see her.”
“And you will. You can take my private jet.”
“You’re not going with me?” I asked, surprised Noah would consider letting me travel unsupervised.
“I have the company to run.”
Disappointed, I slumped into my seat. I’d forgotten. Work was his true mistress. Yet I couldn’t be angry with him. He had orchestrated the reunion with my family, giving me a gift I could never pay back.
“Thank you,” I said, locking my eyes with his until they melded together. “You’ve outdone yourself. I’ll always be grateful. Knowledge really can save people.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I can’t believe he did that for you!” Julia exclaimed as we enjo
yed another one of her homemade meals in the kitchen of our apartment.
This time, she had prepared an Irish stew full of meat, carrots, and potatoes with a dash of Guinness in the broth, claiming it was fuel to get us through the next couple of days. Our workload had tripled in preparation for the convention. Being part of the business development department, Julia had as heavy of a hand in the preparations as I did while Stafford Scientific prepared to formally announce its advancement in nanotechnology.
“He truly does care for you,” she continued, holding a spoonful of stew in midair, visibly contemplating the implications of Noah’s actions. “I think he may even love you. Wow. That’s big.”
Breathing out, I set my own spoon down, my appetite missing. “He may, but it doesn’t change anything. It’s been made very clear to me that this agreement doesn’t extend past the year. The company is the most important thing to him; it’s his priority. A long-term commitment to anything outside his work isn’t an option. This isn’t speculation; he said it to me directly.”
“Ouch,” Julia muttered. “Do you think the big bad billionaire is scared to love?”
The idea of Noah being scared of anything was amusing. “It’s personal, but he refused to tell me why.”
Her eyes flashed with excitement. “Maybe it’s time we drag out the blonde wigs, do some more spy work.”
“There’s nothing we would find. Noah’s secret isn’t coded onto some microchip somewhere. It’s vaulted in his mind.”
“Stafford Scientific should invent a mind-reader. I’m going to suggest that at the next department meeting,” she joked before swallowing a mouthful of stew.
“How did meeting Ronald’s parents go?” I asked, moving on. I’d been so caught up in my own issues, I’d forgotten she’d also had a family get-together of sorts.
“Wonderful!” she crooned. “The dad is a little harsh. He kept asking what a woman as intelligent as me was doing with his son, but the mom was sweet as pie. For dinner, she served a bowl full of country-style baked beans because she had read that Boston was known as Bean Town. She wanted me to feel at home.”