by Lily Harlem
“It was strange,” Marie went on. “You not being there. You seemed so… connected, you and Kane.”
“Yes, we were.”
“So what went wrong?”
“Well, I…” She didn’t know if she really wanted to go into details. She and Marie were hardly best buddies.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so forthright, but you know us Americans, we just say it how it is, not like you British with the stiff upper lip thing. Trouble is, Imogen, that man is really damn miserable and the only thing that Taylor says has changed is you’ve disappeared from his life.”
“Yes, I have disappeared. That pretty much sums it up.” She rubbed her fingers over the bridge of her nose and squeezed. She wouldn’t cry, not here. Not at work.
“Was it the BDSM, the club?”
“No, actually it wasn’t anything to do with that.” Imogen glanced at her office door, double-checking it was properly shut. “That was new for me, yes, but also exciting, and let’s face it, I was in the hands of an expert.”
“That’s true.”
“So it was all pretty damn good in that department.”
“I can believe it.”
“It’s just… his nomadic lifestyle. How can that be compatible with a relationship?”
“Nomadic?”
“I’ll admit it’s a very luxurious way to live, but I have a job in London and friends, family not too far away that depend on me. I want to spend time with them.”
“Of course you do.”
“And I can’t just throw away my career.”
“No, I understand that perfectly.”
“And he expected me to just walk away from it all.”
Marie was quiet.
“How did you get my number?” Imogen asked.
“Taylor took it from Kane’s phone when he stepped out the room. He gave it to me and told me to call you, make sure you were okay.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“And are you okay? The truth this time.”
“No, I miss him, but I don’t see a way around the problem.”
“There is always a way around problems if you want there to be. Maybe you just need to meet in the middle.”
“I’m happy for that, but he has no middle ground. Kane is a man who is used to getting what he wants. When he didn’t this time he threw his very expensive toys from the pram and walked away.”
“I see.” She sighed. “Listen, I have to go. But Taylor and I just wanted you to know that Kane misses you, he regrets how it ended, and if you’re feeling bad, he’s feeling worse.”
“I doubt it.”
“Take care, Imogen,” she said. “And I’m sorry, I thought we’d be spending more time together. I was looking forward to having you as my friend.”
“I feel the same. Thanks for calling.”
Marie hung up.
Imogen placed her phone down. Her head spun. She felt like she’d just been dropped into Kane’s world again. She tried not to feel jealous that Marie and Taylor had gone to dinner with him; she would have loved to have been there.
She rested her head in her hands and stared at a complex transaction she needed to check through. She sighed. Yes, she loved her job, the fact she was breaking through the glass ceiling at Coutts, but was it worth her heart being torn in two?
Maybe she was being as stubborn as Kane. She’d complained that he had no middle ground, but perhaps she was equally as guilty of the crime.
She picked up her pen. She had to get this work done. Push Kane and Taylor and Marie from her mind and carry on. Besides, the sooner she did, the sooner she’d be able to knock off work and collect the Chinese takeaway she’d promised Clarris they’d have for supper.
Chapter Nineteen
“Mmm, smells good,” Clarris said, letting Imogen into the apartment.
“Sorry it’s a bit late.” Imogen stepped past her, holding a bag heavy with hot food.
“No, it’s fine, Katie’s only just gone down.”
“You had a good day?” Imogen asked, putting the takeaway on the kitchen table, then plucking out cartons of noodles, chicken, and stir-fry.
“Busy, busy, got a royal scandal about to unfold so I had to send a few to cover that, which left me short on another thing, and then… anyway, lots of juggling the team around.”
“Oh, what’s the royal scandal?”
“It will hit the papers in the morning. The usual prince up to the usual shenanigans, but in a pool in Crete this time. Some great pictures have been leaked, we’ll have to censor parts of them, they’re so explicit. Damn shame, though; he’s hot.”
Imogen laughed. “That sounds quite a scoop.”
“It is.”
Clarris’ job seemed so far removed from Imogen’s and she liked hearing about it.
They filled up plates with food and sat on the sofa for a TV dinner. Clarris put the news on low volume, as was her habit.
“So how has your day been?” Clarris asked, swirling noodles onto her fork.
“Okay, got plenty done—it’s like that when the weather is bad, it makes me get my head down.” She paused. “I did get a bit of a strange phone call, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Marie, Kane’s brother’s…” She hesitated. What was she? Girlfriend, fiancée, wife? She was his submissive, his woman, but she couldn’t go into that with Clarris, not now.
“What?” Clarris said, cocking her head. “Kane’s brother’s what?”
“His girlfriend, they’re pretty serious.” That should cover it. “She called me.”
“Really? What did she want?”
“Just to say Kane had been there.”
“And…” Clarris spun her fork in the air as if trying to roll the words out of Imogen’s mouth. “What else?”
Imogen shrugged. “I think what she was trying to say is that he misses me.”
“Good, I hope his heart is shattered into a million little pieces and beyond repair.” She huffed.
“Clarris.”
“Well, after what he did to you.” She scowled.
“He didn’t do anything, not really.”
“He made you miserable; why or how is irrelevant, the end result is the same. I swear I’ll find something on him and splash it all over the front cover of the Daily News.”
“No, he doesn’t deserve that.” Imogen paused. “But she got me thinking.”
“Why? What else did she say?”
“It was more what I said, really. I told her that he wouldn’t meet me halfway and then I wondered if maybe I was guilty of the same. Perhaps we’ve both been stubborn and all the time I thought it was him being the obstinate one.”
“He wanted you to throw everything away for him. That wasn’t a halfway demand.”
Demand. Yes, that’s what it had been. No wonder it had put her hackles up. Time had blurred her memory, but Clarris had remembered the story perfectly.
“Yes, you’re right.” Imogen sighed. “There wasn’t anywhere to meet halfway and—”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sound of a fist rather than knuckles rapping at the front door echoed around the room.
“You expecting someone?” Imogen asked.
“No.” Clarris glanced at Katie’s bedroom door. “No one.” She stood. “I hope that hasn’t woken her up. Bloody inconsiderate this time of evening.”
“You want me to go and see who it is?” Imogen placed her plate on the table.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll go. I’ll put the chain on. Probably Bible people again. They’ve been round twice this month already trying to correct the error of my ways. Keep an eye out in case she wanders out of her room, though.”
“Okay.” Imogen rested back and glanced at the bedroom, then the TV. The weather was on. Looked like sun for the next few days, thank goodness.
Voices came from the hallway—Clarris no doubt being sarcastic to the unwanted visitors and amusing herself.
“Imogen.”
A deep,
heart-wrenchingly familiar voice startled Imogen and she turned to the doorway.
Kane stood there. Dressed all in back, stubble thick and his eyes narrowed.
“What… what are you doing here?” she asked, her focus blurring at the shock of seeing him there. It was completely out of context for Kane Ward to be standing in Clarris’ lounge.
“I went to your apartment,” he said. “You weren’t there. I remembered you mentioned your friend lived next door. I took a chance.”
Clarris appeared behind him. Her eyes were wide and she gave Imogen an apologetic shrug. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
“So here I am,” he said, tilting his chin.
“But…?” She sat forward and pushed her hand through her hair. Was she dreaming? Was this really happening?
“And we’re going to talk this through,” he said. “Now.”
God, he looked so damn gorgeous. The Band-Aids she’d applied to her heartache fell away and it hurt all over again that he wasn’t hers—that she wasn’t his. “Talk what through?”
“Us. Come on.”
Us? “But I…” What else was there to say? Why was he doing this? It just prolonged the agony.
He walked up to her and reached for her hand, pulling her to standing. “Are those your keys?” he asked, indicating a bunch on the table with a Costa Coffee fob.
“Yes.”
He scooped them up, then in one swift move scooped her up too.
“Kane, ahhh… what?”
He’d stooped low and swung her over his shoulder. Imogen’s world was suddenly upside down and she was staring at his ass. She went to kick but he’d braced her legs with his arm. She grabbed for his belt to support her upper body as her hair fell forward over her face. “Kane!”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, Clarris,” Kane said in a perfectly calm voice, as though he didn’t have a woman hoisted over his shoulder. “But there is something I must discuss with Imogen.”
“That’s all right,” Clarris said. “I’ll get the door.”
Imogen wriggled furiously. Damn it. Clarris wasn’t going to save her. “Kane, put me down. What are you, a Neanderthal?”
“No, just a man who will be heard out.”
“Bloody hell.” She banged his back with her fist as the carpet turned to hallway flooring.
He opened her front door with her key and went inside. He slammed the door shut with a swift kick.
“Put me down,” she said, her cheeks hot and red. “Now.”
This time he listened to her. He placed her on the floor with her back to the wall, then flicked on the light.
She stared up at him, her pulse raging in her ears and her belly still tense from being pressed against his shoulder. “What the…?”
He stepped forward and banged his palms on the wall on either side of her head. “I told you I wasn’t going to say goodbye, Imogen. It’s not in my vocabulary to say that to you.”
That was true.
“I knew back then I had to see you again,” he added.
“There are other ways of seeing me than hoisting me over your shoulder and… and kidnapping me.”
He gave a sly smile. “Part of my plan. Minimal risk of not getting you where I want you.”
“And have you got me where you want me?” Her heart was going to explode, she was sure of it. She was mad at him, she wanted to fling her arms around him. She wanted to slap his face, then kiss him all over.
“Yes,” he said, leaning closer. “I have. Now all you need to do is listen.”
She stared at his lips as he spoke. A mouth she knew so well and had missed so much. Was he going to kiss her? She ached for that, needed it so badly. But what good would come of it? It would only show her what she was missing.
“You can do that, can’t you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Listen.”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I can listen.”
“Good, come on.” He took her hand.
“But what’s all this about?” Imogen asked as he led her into her living area.
“I told you. Us.”
“There is no us.” She untangled her hand from his and folded her arms, stood in the center of the room. “It can’t work.”
“There is no such thing as can’t, and I beg to differ, there is an us, Imogen, very much so.”
She pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to argue with that. Being an us with Kane Ward was something she longed to be again. “Okay.” She nodded. “I’m listening.”
“Good.” He looked around her home. Soft seating covered in bright cushions sat before a tall bookcase that could be tidier. The TV was at an angle on a dresser and a potted plant next to it needed watering. There were the remnants of a late-night snack on the coffee table.
“I would have tidied, if I’d known you were coming.” The mess was suddenly embarrassing.
“That doesn’t concern me. It’s you I wanted to see.”
She held his gaze. Damn his eyes, they made her want to throw everything away. But she couldn’t. She had to stay strong.
“Four things,” he said. “For you, from me.” He moved to the table and took out two chrome keys. He set them down.
“What are they for?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small black velvet box. He placed it next to the keys.
“What’s that?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he withdrew a slim collar from his pocket—the one she’d worn during their sex sessions—and added that to the collection of objects on the table.
Seeing the collar sent waves of arousal through Imogen. He had it with him? Her nipples tightened and she pressed her folded arms against them. Did that mean he intended to…? Would she? One last time?
“As you know, I think very highly of you, Imogen, very highly indeed.”
Very highly! What did that mean? Was it his way of saying he loved her? Had she dreamed that he’d spoken those words on their last night together?
“And how we ended things was very unacceptable to me,” he said, “so I have put processes in place to try to come to a mutual agreement.”
“Okay.”
“Issues that concerned you have been alleviated to a significant extent, and I hope you can agree to the new deal.”
“You make me sound like a business transaction.”
“Oh, no, you’re much more important than that.”
Imogen said nothing. She waited for him to continue.
“It seemed to me,” he said, “that you had three main issues with us being a couple, officially.”
“Three?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “And I’ve addressed each in a manner I hope you will find satisfactory so that we can go back to how we both felt on top of the Empire State Building.” He paused. “Back then I thought we’d committed to making a go of it, but it seemed my idea of that was very different to yours.”
“I think that sums up that conversation, and—”
“You don’t want to give up your job,” he said in a forceful voice, causing her to pause, “and I understand that. I wouldn’t want to give up mine. So I’ve purchased floors fifty-six and fifty-seven of The Shard—it will be the new home of Ward Enterprises. My new base, somewhere to run operations on a daily basis.”
“I don’t understand.” What the hell was he talking about?
“Until now my staff and I have been spread out globally. I’m bringing us all together, in one place.” He paused. “London.”
“Here?”
“Yes, here, where you are, Imogen.”
“But you can’t do that for me.”
“I can and I have.” He shrugged. “I’ve also promoted some of my most senior staff—they’ll be taking a much more hands-on role and making major decisions, freeing me up from traveling so frequently. I’m hoping to be in London for at least two weeks out of every month.”
“Kane, I…” He’
d made such massive changes. For her? She couldn’t be responsible for that.
“No, wait. I haven’t finished.”
Her head was full of questions, but it was clear he needed to speak. She pressed her palm over her lips as a way of keeping those words inside.
“This key,” he said, holding up the slimmer of the two that he’d placed on the table. “Is to my new home, 134 Billington Road, Kensington.”
“Very desirable address.”
“So I’m told.” He reached for her hand, the one by her mouth, and unfurled her fingers. “And this is your key.” He set it in her palm. “I wish you to come and go as you please, or perhaps that might change to as I please, but that’s up for negotiation.”
“My key?”
“My home is your home. Much as I like yours”—he glanced about the small space—“I’d like you at my home when I’m there, which will be as often as I can be.”
“You’re giving me a key, to your house?”
“Of course.” He nodded. “How else will you get through the door?”
His expression was stern but Imogen knew him well enough to know he was anxious beneath it. He was asking a lot—would she give it?
“And the other key?” she asked, indicating the one with a black rubber tip.
“Yes.” He picked it up. “This actually won’t be in your possession but it is yours. I have you a car with a driver that is entirely at your disposal. Whenever you want to come to me, he will bring you. Wherever you want to go, in fact, he will take you.”
“A Bentley?”
He paused. A flicker of confusion flashed over his eyes, then he nodded as if connecting the dots. “Yes. A Bentley.”
So that was the purchase she’d seen on his accounts. It had cost several hundred thousand pounds for the car alone, before the driver’s wages. “It’s too much.”
“What? To have you come to my home whenever you want? It’s a small price and it’s done now.” He shrugged. “I don’t want you to be too tired to face evening traffic to drive to Kensington after a day at the bank. I want you at my home if I’m there.”
“You already said that.”
“And do you agree?”
She could feel herself softening. He’d put a lot of thought and effort, not to mention money, into solving their dilemma. Their dilemma. That was the point, he was coming to the halfway mark, overstepping it, in fact. He’d reached out.