by Lily Harlem
Marie glanced at Taylor, then smiled. “I’ve been designing for as long as I can remember, but it’s a very hard business to get into. Taylor has some ideas, though.”
Imogen swallowed the foie gras, then drank a mouthful of wine. It was clear Kane didn’t want the conversation to continue about Taylor and Marie’s relationship. Was that because he didn’t want her to offend them, or because he hoped for her to be just like Marie one day and do everything she was told… by him?
She sat back and listened as the conversation moved from Marie’s design plans to a location for her new office in Manhattan. Taylor was positive and supportive and keen for Marie to make a success of her new business. Imogen was pleased for her; she’d found a man to love and the future was exciting. She could imagine being friends with Marie; she had a warmth about her.
But could she be friends with someone who thought so differently? Who was happy to obey a man all day, every day?
Taylor appeared as in love with Marie as she was him. He touched her frequently, looked at her every few seconds, and fussed over whether she had enough water and wine and if her food was to her liking.
Imogen studied Taylor’s hands. They were big, like his brothers, with neat nails and a faint coating of hair just sneaking past his cuffs. Did he use his hands on Marie the way Kane had on her—slapping, wielding instruments of pain, withholding orgasm? Did he use his strong fingers to tie ropes, insert plugs, vibrators? How often did he bind his collared woman onto a cross, or a bench for flogging and fucking and…?
“Imogen…”
“Mmm, sorry.” Imogen realized Kane was speaking to her. She smiled.
“Your main course.”
“Oh, yes, lovely.” She glanced at the waiter at her side, who held her coq au vin. “Thank you.”
He set down the meal.
“This looks delicious,” she said.
“It does,” Marie said. “It’s awesome here, don’t you think, Imogen?”
“Yes, stunning.” Imogen nodded and took in the elegant restaurant around her.
The walls were a mixture of wooden panels and black glass. Huge candelabras dangled from the ceiling and several portraits in golden frames hung on the walls. Each table was set far enough apart from the next for privacy, and the waiters appeared to glide silently around the customers, blending with the background.
“Is this your first time in New York?” Marie asked, tucking into her own meal.
“Yes, it is.”
“Have you seen the sights?”
“Well, not much.” She glanced at Kane, who was cutting into his steak. “I went to the library today, though.”
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Marie said, then sighed. “I’ve spent several afternoons there flicking through the vintage design books. So peaceful.”
“Well, it was until Imogen arrived,” Kane said, chuckling.
Imogen felt her cheeks redden again just at the memory of her phone disturbing the tranquility.
“Why, what happened?” Taylor asked.
“I forgot to switch my phone to silent,” Imogen said with a sigh.
Taylor laughed.
Marie pulled a sympathetic face.
“Yes,” Kane said. “Inappropriate texts can be very distracting, can’t they?”
Imogen glared at him. Surely he wasn’t going to reveal…
He leaned close and touched the back of his fingers to her cheek and stroked down her face. “But I’m not complaining.” He pressed his lips to hers.
“Oh, get a room,” Taylor said, smiling.
“Huh, you can’t talk,” Kane said, glancing at his brother. “You’ve hardly been able to keep your hands off your woman.” He winked at Marie. “Not that I blame you.”
Taylor shrugged. “You’re right, I can’t help myself. Maybe I’ll let you play with her one day, at the club.”
Kane reached for his napkin and coughed.
Taylor’s smile dropped a fraction. “Ah, okay, so how is your chicken, Imogen?”
Imogen looked at him, then at Kane. “Fine, l mean beautiful.” What had he meant by play with her? Did he mean he’d let Kane flog Marie? Fuck Marie? Did they do that, the brothers?
Bloody hell! One thing was for sure, the Wards were not only unimaginably rich and devastatingly handsome, they were also kinky as fuck and it seemed they had made BDSM their hobby.
* * *
The end of the meal arrived, and after lots of goodbyes, Taylor and Marie took a cab and Kane’s limo pulled up at the kerb to collect them.
Imogen slid onto the soft seat and rested her purse on her lap.
Kane sat next to her.
“Are we going back to the hotel?” she asked as the driver steered out into the traffic.
Kane took her left hand and placed it between both of his. “No. I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“Well, I feel responsible for the fact you haven’t seen as many of the sights that you would have liked to. I’m hoping this will go some way to rectifying that.”
“You don’t need to feel like that. I’ve had a lovely time. And it was great to meet your brother and Marie. They were really nice company.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He raised her hand and kissed her fingertips that were peeking out from between his. “Even if their way of living is a little confusing for you.”
She hesitated. “Yes, it is a bit.”
“You can’t understand why a strong woman would be willing to hand herself over so completely to a man.”
“I think that’s it basically. Marie seems to be very capable, intelligent—why does she need Taylor to make the most basic decisions for her?”
“She doesn’t need him to, she wants him to. That’s the difference.”
Imogen thought about it. “Okay, but why does she want him to?”
“Because she loves him. It’s a way of showing him how much she trusts him in and out of the bedroom. It’s a great honor for Taylor to have Marie wear his collar twenty-four-seven.”
“But isn’t it hard for her to live normally when she has to run everything by her master?”
“It’s only between them, this arrangement. She’s her own person with thoughts and opinions, talents too, I’m sure.” He paused. “It takes a strong person to submit, Imogen. It’s not for the weak or the faint of heart.”
She was quiet.
“As you proved last night.” He lowered his voice and leaned a little closer. “It took guts to allow me to tie you to that cross and paddle your ass. There is nothing easy about handing yourself or your pain and pleasure to another person. I admire anyone at peace enough with themselves to do that.”
“Thank you, I think.”
He smiled a little, then pointed out of the window. “We’re here.”
“Where?” She looked at the pedestrians rushing past.
“You’ll see.”
The driver hopped out and opened the door. Imogen stepped onto the sidewalk and stared upward. They were directly beneath the Empire State Building.
It stretched on and on, higher and higher, piercing the night sky. The top section was lit with bright red spotlights and appeared to glow.
“Mr. Ward?” A man in a suit and bowler hat stepped from the entrance of the building.
“Yes.” Kane nodded and took Imogen’s hand.
“This way, sir.” The man used an outstretched arm to hold the door open.
Imogen was tugged forward, away from the press of New Yorkers who were dodging around them. Kane moved fast, clearly not liking being on the sidewalk.
Like the library, the lobby of the Empire State Building was silent, majestic, and huge.
“Is it open?” Imogen asked. “It doesn’t seem it.” There didn’t appear to be any staff around or indeed any other tourists.
“It is for us,” Kane said, slipping his hand around her waist. “Come on, we’re going to the top. I did tell you I’d take you there.”
He had indeed�
��in the car, on the way from the airport to the hotel.
They followed the man who’d greeted them to a set of elevators with shiny brass doors. He hit the button on the first one. When it opened, he bobbed his head. “Everything is as you requested, Mr. Ward. Have a nice time.”
“Thank you,” Kane said, steering Imogen into the elevator.
The doors shut with a soft swoosh, leaving them alone. Imogen looked at the round black buttons—one hundred and two.
“It’s a clear night,” Kane said. “We should have a great view.”
Imogen felt her tummy lurch as they were zoomed upward. “It’s very high.”
“It is the best spot to see New York from, so I’m told.”
“Have you been here before?”
“Only to meetings, never past the seventy-first floor.”
“So it’s a new experience for both of us.”
“It is.”
The elevator slowed and a small digital sign announced they were at the observation deck.
“Are you okay?” Kane asked when she hesitated before stepping out.
“Yes, of course.” She wouldn’t let vertigo bother her. She could do this.
She headed into the corridor. “There really is no one else here,” she said.
“No, of course not. I wanted us to have it all to ourselves.” He glanced left then right. “This way.”
The tiled floor was art deco style and the sound of her heels echoed around the wide space. Several big black-and-white photographs on the walls showed images of the building under construction.
They reached a set of glass doors. The night sky lay beyond but none of the usual New York lights. They were too high for that.
The doors slid open. The first thing Imogen noticed as she stepped onto the viewing platform was a mass of red roses. There were dozens of pedestals set almost in a circle around her, full of long-stemmed roses. Some were still buds but many were open and at their most beautiful.
She breathed deep, the powdery, sweet scent filling her lungs and mixing with the night air.
“Do you like?” Kane asked, settling his gaze on her.
“Well, yes… but… who…?”
“They’re for you, of course. I thought you’d enjoy red roses.” He glanced at the top point of the building that was also glowing red. “You like red, don’t you? I often see you wearing it.”
“Well, yes. But…”
“Tonight,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her close, “the Empire State Building glows red, just for you, Imogen, at my request, and to show you how much you mean to me.”
“You mean… you did this? The red all over this building that can be seen by millions of people?”
“Of course.”
“And the roses, but there are so many… I can’t take them all home.” She surveyed the forest of flowers. She noticed now the black pedestals they stood on were placed over a large red carpet sprinkled with more petals.
“They’re not to take home,” he said, tracing her jawline with the tip of his finger. “They’re just to enjoy now, while we’re here. They’re romantic.”
“They’re extravagant.” She slipped from his arms and went up to the nearest bunch, stroked over a petal.
“Extravagant,” he said with a flippant huff. “I haven’t even started yet, Imogen. This is just so you’ll always remember your first trip to the top of this iconic building.”
“Well, I certainly will.” She turned to him.
A small breeze rustled through the flowers and shifted a strand of hair over his forehead.
She walked up to him and brushed it aside. “And you hired the place…?”
“Only this floor.” He shrugged. “Though if you’d rather I had the building emptied I’m sure that can be arranged.” He went to reach for his phone.
“No, no.” She laughed. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine.” She gestured around, smiling. “Perfect.”
“Come on, look at the view, that’s one of the things we’re here for.” He stepped away and lifted two full champagne flutes from a silver tray. “Here.”
“Champagne as well.”
“Of course.”
She took a sip. Thoughts of the height she was at and how tiny everything down below would appear when she looked over the edge left her mind. What else were they up here for? She hardly dared ask. Kane Ward had taken her by surprise too many times. Perhaps she should, though, just get it out into the open.
She walked to the outer barrier that was encased with a cage-like fence, and stared at New York stretching in front of her. A large, dense square of blackness told her she was looking in the direction of Central Park.
She sucked in a deep breath. Yes, she was very high.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. “Just like you.” He touched the rim of his glass to hers and took a sip.
She did the same, then twirled the stem in her fingers. “What else are we here for? Other than the view, that is.”
He smiled and nodded. “Patience really isn’t your strong point, is it?”
“Maybe curiosity is a more powerful force.”
“Perhaps.” He took her glass and set it aside, placed his down too.
“This seems serious,” she said, wondering what was going on.
“It is. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
Another gust of wind slipped past them. Imogen shivered as it struck her shoulders and filtered through her silky dress.
“Here.” Quickly, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her, letting the arms hang loose.
“Thank you.” His body heat seeped onto her skin like an embrace, the material big and heavy, comforting too.
“Imogen,” he said, moving up close. “From that first moment I saw you, nearly two years ago, you’ve filled my thoughts.”
“I have?” Really? She’d filled his thoughts?
“Yes.” He gave a small huff. “I don’t really need to make appointments every few months to see my bank manager. I have people who work for me who can do that.”
“Well, I did think it a little odd. Your reasons for visiting always concerned matters your accountants could have handled quite easily.”
“I know, and I’m sorry if that was shallow of me.”
“Not at all.” She paused. “I looked forward to your visits. Very much.”
“I’m glad.” He rubbed his hands down to her elbows, then up again to her shoulders. “But my life, the business I’m in, it’s crazy. Even finding the time to fantasize about you was in short supply. There is always so much going on. Somewhere to be, someone to see, a deal to close.”
“You fantasized about me?” A thrill shot through her.
He lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “You know damn well I did and I’ve already confessed that.”
She swallowed. What themes had his sexy thoughts taken? What had she been wearing, what he’d been doing to her? Did reality live up to the fantasy?
“My problem is not just time,” he said. “As you now know, I have flavors other than vanilla that yank my chain. They’re there, I can’t remove them. It’s like they’ve been hardwired into me.”
She nodded.
“So not only was it hard finding the time and the opportunity to get you to myself, I knew once I did I also had to put my kinks on the table to see if you’d take the bait.”
“Okay…”
He frowned. “I had to work up to that. What if you’d walked away from that BDSM club thinking I was a pervert? What if you’d demanded to be flown back to the UK and switched to another branch of Coutts so I could never see you again? What if you’d gone to the papers?”
“Kane, that wouldn’t happen.” She pressed her hand over his cheek. She hated to see him so worried. “And I don’t think you’re a pervert, not at all.”
“Good, because I’m not. I just enjoy BDSM and all that it entails. I’m not the only one, as you’ve seen.”
Imogen glanced to her right and stared at
the silvery lights dotted over a tall square building.
“Which brings me to the last stage of my seduction of you,” he said.
“Seduction? Stages?” She looked back at him. “You sound like you planned it all.”
“I did. I’m a businessman; it’s how my mind works.”
“In every aspect of your life?”
“Yes. I don’t accept failure and that means ensuring plans run smoothly and being in control of the outcome.”
She was quiet for a moment, then, “Tell me more.”
“I’ve made sure every step of the process of making you mine is at the lowest risk of failing. The date at the races—you thought that was business, you couldn’t refuse to join me.”
“I also thought the trip here was business.”
“I think you rumbled me pretty quickly.” He shrugged, just a little, and his white shirt pressed against his torso. “But I couldn’t help myself in the car when you flashed your stocking. I’d been waiting too long.”
“You couldn’t wait but you’re not sorry about the deception, are you?”
“No, it was a means to an end.”
“And what is the end of your plan, Mr. Ward? What will measure your success? Because I think it’s safe to say you have already seduced me and in ways I never would have thought possible.”
“I haven’t quite conquered you yet,” he said, “there is still more to achieve.”
“Which is?”
“Us. Together. I know it’s been quick while we’ve been here, the transition from client and bank manager to lovers. But you can’t deny there has been chemistry between us for a long time. It just needed room to breathe.”
“I’m not denying it.” She stared into his dark eyes. Was he suggesting what she thought he was? Something long term between them? “And yes, giving it room to breathe has been wonderful.”
“So you’ll think about it?”
“What? Think about what?”
He cupped her cheeks. “Being mine. Wearing my collar.”
She stared into his handsome face. She wanted nothing more than to be his and for him to be hers. But the collar…?
“The collar,” she said, then paused and took a deep breath. She had to be true to herself and what felt right for her, at this moment in time at least. “I’ll wear it in the bedroom or in a scene. Any more than that is too much for me to handle right now.”