by Linnea May
I swallow dryly, trying to understand why that knot in my throat exists. Why does this bother me? I don’t know this man, but from what little I’ve experienced with him tonight, this shouldn’t shock or even surprise me. And yet it hurts to hear it.
“Are you… have you—”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters to me is why you brought it up.”
I bite my lip, unsure what to say. Why did I bring it up? The truth is I don’t know. Because it popped up in my head when he said those things about me not wanting another nice boy, when he closed his hand around my throat and threatened to choke me, when he looked at me with those knowing eyes, as if he saw something no one else has seen there before. Something I’ve been hiding so well that even I’m not entirely sure it’s there.
Because it scares me. That yearning, that flaring desire to be dominated, to be hurt.
It’s terrifying.
And he saw it. He knows it’s there.
I can’t breathe. He’s not touching me, but it still feels as if he’s holding me in that same tight grip from before, not cutting off air but threatening to do so.
“Drink,” he says, pointing at the glass of water next to me. “Now.”
I want to protest his patronizing demand, but my thirst is stronger than my pride. I do as I’m told and empty half of the glass in one greedy gulp.
“So, you’ve never been to The Velvet Rooms?” he asks once I set the glass back down.
I shake my head in silence.
“Do you want to go there?”
My eyes dart up to him, wide in question and surprise. “With you?”
“That could be an option.”
A handsome smile graces his face, laced with a dark promise that tickles my thirst for adventure. I have been curious about that kink club ever since Elene first told me about it. She flinched when I called it “magical” but was never willing to enlighten me on what exactly it was all about. And I didn’t probe, because she’s my sister. We’re kind of close, but not to a degree that would allow for us to openly discuss our sex lives, thanks to a demure upbringing that tamed us more than one would think based on Elene’s choices in life.
Only hers. I’ve always displayed the perfectly prudish daughter our mother was proud of.
Always.
Until now.
“I-I’m not sure,” I stutter. “I don’t even know you.”
I want to lower my eyes to escape his probing gaze, but he locks me down, placing his index finger below my chin and tilting my face back up to his. My eyelashes flicker nervously as I fight to keep my eyes open, lacking the strength I would need to deliver a more convincing performance.
“You can get to know me,” he says, an ominous tone lacing his words. “You’ll learn everything you need to know there in The Velvet Rooms.”
I squint at him, unsure what to make of his statement. It’s as promising as it is daunting, and I’m not sure which side I should react to.
“I can tell you’re intrigued.”
Apparently he’s decided to focus on my curiosity rather than my fear.
I bite my lower lip, unable to phrase any sort of response while tense silence stretches between us.
But not for long.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he says in a low voice, evoking another wave of confusion.
I never said yes. Why is he acting like I did?
“You’ve never been dominated before, have you?”
Oh my God.
“Dominated,” I whisper weakly. “You mean like… spanked and whipped and all that?”
I sound like a fucking twelve-year-old, but he just nods, showing no sign that he agrees with my assessment.
“Yes, among other things.”
“What other things?”
He smirks, a subtle shake of his head suggesting he isn’t going to answer that question.
“You’re curious,” he assesses. “But we’re not discussing any of that. Not now. Not here.”
I furrow my eyebrows, annoyance pinching at my temples. Annoyance or pain. I cringe as I realize it’s the latter, a first messenger for the hangover I’m about to suffer in a few hours. That damn champagne.
He leans back and reaches into his suit’s inside pocket, producing a business card and placing it on the table next to me.
Is he serious with this? I glance at him while reaching for the card.
“Your business card, really?” I ask. “Please don’t tell me I have to sign a contract, too.”
He chuckles, surprising me when he reaches forward, caressing my glowing cheek as he leans in so close our faces almost touch.
“You watch too many movies, little girl.”
Why does he call me that?
And why does it make my core flutter as if he’d touched me there?
Why does my heart sink with disappointment when he retreats without satisfying my yearning for another kiss?
So many whys.
And I won’t get an answer to any of them tonight.
Chapter 9
Kade
I’m bored easily. Very fucking easily. That fact is true for every aspect of my life: food, drinks, any form of activity, women, business—it doesn’t matter. No matter how excited I might be for one thing in one moment, it will taste stale and replaceable in the next. My entire life bears a resemblance to chewing gum—bright and tasty at first, but bland after digging your teeth into it for long enough.
But there’s always that first excitement. When that first bite hits my taste buds, sparking a fire that boosts me to do extraordinary things. As easy as it is for me to get bored, it’s also easy for me to lose myself in a promise for something or someone new and exciting.
Innocent little Lila ignited that fire like no other.
The sweet taste of her is still lingering on my lips a day after I stole that first kiss. I’m hooked on her, and I want to ride that high for as long as possible. Even if it means my mind wanders when it shouldn’t.
My brother’s been trying to reason with me for an eternity. At least, that’s what it feels like. We’ve been sitting in this conference room for an hour, and ever since we stepped inside, he’s been talking nonstop in an attempt to persuade me to get back on board with something I’ve left behind for good, a project that fueled my motivation when it was still nothing but an idea, but quickly grew boring to me once it was fully installed and operating.
It wasn’t the first business idea that came to me out of nowhere and quickly evolved into something valuable. Just like all the others before, it was nothing but a small tool for business-to-business communication, something that makes a process as simple as it should be. I’m still surprised that no one else thought of it before, which makes it even harder for me to care now that I’ve sold the idea to someone who wants to grow it into something bigger.
That part’s never interested me. Ideas come to me, whether I invite them or not, and I always need to follow up on them. I need to evaluate their potential, see where they can go, test whether they’re nothing but wet ideas that lead nowhere. They usually aren’t.
My brother’s right when he says I have a knack for this business, especially when it comes to e-commerce. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy it as much as he does, or feel the desire to exploit every single idea to the bitter end.
And that’s exactly what he’s asking of me right now.
“You’re wasting so much potential,” he argues, waving his hands through the air to emphasize his outrage. “I don’t get you, Kade. I really don’t.”
I smile at his indignant gaze, slowly shaking my head as I cross my arms in front of my chest. Greg’s standing at the other end of the room, letting out an exasperated gasp. He’s been pacing up and down the room while I calmly sit in this chair, every fiber of my being displaying my aversion to being here in the first place.
“I know you don’t get it,” I tell him. “And you don’t have to. It was my business, I sold it, and now I’m done with it.”
He groans as if my words are causing him physical pain. Maybe they are.
“You totally undersold,” he hisses. “You always do. You always fucking undersell. Do you even know what this is going to be worth in a few years? Months even!”
I shrug. “It’s not like I need the money.”
He lets out another deep-drawn sigh. “Yes, but still, you could—”
“Could what? Become even richer? And then what? I know Dad was irritated at the way I used my trust fund, that I ‘pissed it away,’ as he called it. Well I didn’t. I may not have quadrupled it, but I’m doing very well, even without being involved in the family business like you are. There’s no reason why I should have to defend myself in front of you guys.”
My brother glares at me, his dark eyes narrow and flickering with rage. He’s two years my senior, but we look so much alike that we’ve been mistaken for twins most of our life. Since he’s the firstborn, it was only natural for my father to choose him as his successor early on. Everything was laid out for him before he was even out of the womb, and as far as I know, that never bothered him. While Greg may not be the picture-perfect son, having a promiscuous reputation and a suspiciously dark cloak about most of his free-time activities, he always gave his best when it came to the family business he’s meant to take over once my father passes it along. He always cared for things I couldn’t care less about.
“This is not about defending yourself, Kade,” he says, supporting himself on a table between us as he bends down to me. “I’m just… worried about you.”
Now I’m the one huffing with indignation. “Worried? Why the fuck would you be worried about me?”
He presses his lips together, a crease appearing between his black eyebrows.
“Fuck it,” he spits. “Fine. I’ll let you do whatever the fuck it is you want.”
He pauses, catching my unfazed gaze before he adds, “Even if it means you throwing away all your potential.”
I shoot him a condescending smile as I slowly shake my head. “It’s called selling, brother.”
“Yes, but selling too soon and for way too little!” he insists. I know he wants to add more, but he stops himself with a deep inhale, raising his hand with his palm facing me.
“Whatever,” he says, more to himself than to me. “Your life. Your decision.”
“Damn straight,” I agree, my eyes wandering back to my phone on the table in front of me. I was nice enough to put it on silent while my brother wasted his time on me, but I can see the little light blinking, telling me someone’s trying to reach me. It could be a missed phone call, an e-mail, a text message—maybe from her.
“Are we done here?” I ask, my eyes darting back up to my brother.
He glares at me, visibly annoyed and tense. “Guess so.”
“Good, thanks.”
I jump up from my chair, grabbing my phone before I give him a short goodbye nod, and head for the door.
“Don’t forget dinner on Sunday,” he yells after me. “Seven sharp.”
I don’t turn, just give him a quick wave to let him know I heard him before the door snaps shut behind me.
Chapter 10
Lila
I would like to see you again. And maybe go to The Velvet Rooms.
This is Lila, btw.
Maybe? Do you want to go there or not?
I think I do.
I’ll need a more definite statement.
I want to go to The Velvet Rooms with you. Please.
Friday, 8pm. Let me know where I should pick you up.
I will admit, I was a little irked at him for simply assuming I’d be free that evening. I mean, I was free, but still, a normal person would be polite enough to ask.
But he isn’t normal. He is anything but normal. That’s exactly why I feel so attracted to him—and a little scared. He emits darkness, danger and a promise for exactly the kind of adventure I’m seeking right now.
I think.
After all, how am I supposed to know what I really want? I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never tried anything that wasn’t put directly in my path. I had a regular college education, started a regular job as a sales assistant in a large publishing house, and I always had regular boyfriends. Nothing out of the ordinary in any way, but “admirable,” as my parents like to call it.
I know, thanks to Elene, that there’s a different world out there, and I’ve been curious about it for a while. I was intrigued long before I broke up with Jim, but I never allowed myself to be more than an observer from afar, a bystander whose interest was satisfied by not even watching, just merely listening to the few details my sister was willing to share.
That was it.
Until now.
Now I have a date with Kade Armitage, a man whose relation to my sister and her husband I still don’t understand. All I know is I can’t stop thinking about him and about the things he said, the things he promised, and the way his hand felt around my throat.
And that kiss. That goddamn kiss.
It was just that one kiss on the balcony. I thought he would kiss me again when he led me away from the crowd, inviting me to hide in a secluded room all by ourselves. My inexperienced heart was pounding with excitement, impatient for our lips to meet again.
But it never happened. We just talked. He gave me his business card and ordered me to finish my water, and then he got up and walked out, shutting the door behind him as if he wanted to prevent me from following.
I just sat there, my eyes glued to the door while I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
He told me to let a day pass before contacting him—and to be completely sober when I did. The ball was completely in my court, as he never asked for my number or any other way to contact me.
That’s all the control he’s willing to give me, it seems. I was only allowed to take that very first step, to decide whether or not we would see each other again.
Everything after that happened under his command. I tried to protest when he wrote that he wanted to pick me up, because I’m a grown woman and can very well get wherever I need to be on my own. But he wouldn’t have any of it. He demanded an address, any address, so he knew where I’d wait for him.
Any address, he’d said. So I did something silly and gave him an address two blocks away from where I actually live, because it felt safer. In retrospect, I’m cursing myself for that ridiculous move, because it means I have to walk down the street in an outfit that’s not meant for walking in public. It’s way too warm for the light trench coat I wrapped around my body, and I feel like I’m drawing looks left and right as I stalk down the pavement in quick but shaky steps. I’ve never had a man tell me what to wear for a date, and I never thought I would not only listen to such requests, but even enjoy doing so.
His demand was simple, but so wrong and naughty that I gasped out loud when I read his message.
A short black dress or skirt, no underwear, and black stockings.
No underwear!
And yet I obeyed.
My instincts jolted in revolt, urging me to object to the humiliating command, but my body knew better. A blush warmed my cheeks and a pleasant tickle spread through my core. I was appalled and excited at the same time, but decided to focus on the latter.
It’s weird, and new, and forbidden. It’s everything I believe I need, and my heart flutters now that I feel my nakedness beneath the loose-fitting trench coat, hidden from strange eyes but so present in my restless mind.
I don’t wear high heels often and have very little practice when it comes to walking in them, so I let out a sigh of relief when I finally reach the address I gave to Kade. It was my plan to be there early so he wouldn’t see that I’m not living here, but as soon as I come to a halt, I notice a black limousine parked in front of the building. The spick-and-span finish radiates sharp reflections of the sun, standing out against the rest of the cars parked on the street, oozing a kind of wealth that’s foreign to this neighborhood.
<
br /> It must be him.
Shit.
The door opens and he steps out, looking just as marvelous as I remember him from my sister’s wedding in a black suit, topped with a white shirt underneath and a dark red tie that stands out in an odd way. I don’t know why, but it catches my eye more than anything else when he approaches me, a confident smile gracing his handsome face as he closes the distance between us with just a few steps. His dark fauxhawk is gelled into place, the strands not moving an inch even when a gust of wind blows my blonde mane in front of my eyes. I hurry to bring my hair back into place by tucking it behind my ear, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.
“Evening, Lila,” he greets me, and my lips part in surprise when he reaches for my hand, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles before gesturing for me to follow him.
“E-evening,” I stutter as another rush of nervous confusion travels down my spine.
He’s the perfect gentleman, opening the door for me and waiting until I’ve taken my seat before he closes it, then walks around to the other side to join me in the back seat. A blackened glass panel separates us from the driver, making it impossible to see who’s behind the wheel. I can’t help but wonder whether it’s soundproof, too.
“Are you nervous?”
His question pulls me out of my absent-minded pondering. I inhale audibly, responding with a quiet nod as the car’s set into motion.
“Good. You should be,” he says, casting me a dark smile.
The shock on my face seems to amuse him. He shakes his head, chuckling as he reaches for my shivering hand.
“You should be nervous, but you shouldn’t be afraid. Nothing needs to happen if you don’t want it to.”
I swallow dryly.
“We’re going to a kink club,” I add for consideration. “I mean… wouldn’t it be weird if we didn’t—”
“No.” His voice is surprisingly loud and commanding. “Listen to me. Nothing needs to happen. I mean it. It would be an insult to me if you agreed to anything tonight that you’re not comfortable with. Understood?”
I nod silently.
“Lila,” he urges. “Do you understand?”
