Red Velvet (The Velvet Rooms Book 3)

by Linnea May

  Relationship. Why do I keep calling it that?

  I have little time to contemplate, because I need to get ready for our date. He told me to wear “something nice” tonight, something suitable for a place outside The Velvet Rooms, something a little more modest than what he usually wants to see on me.

  That and the collar around my neck. If I dare.

  I almost worry that the dress I picked—a maroon cocktail dress I wore for our last office party—could be a little too modest for his taste. I feel like a wallflower in it, now that I got a taste of his kinky world.

  The collar is the last thing I put on before leaving the house, watching myself in the mirror as I close the lock at the back, the cold steel tightening against my throat. It feels weird and very prominent, enclosing my neck with a lot more weight than any other necklace I wore before.

  It also nullifies the modesty of my dress, making me feel just as naughty and excited as my next-to-naked outfit during our last date. I walk down the stairs out to the street, where I know he’ll already be waiting for me.

  The smile on his face wipes away any previous concern that I would disappoint him. He nods with approval as I walk toward him, taking my face between his hands and placing a kiss on my lips that speaks of deep affection.

  “I knew it would suit you perfectly,” he comments, hooking his index finger in the ring and pulling softly.

  I reciprocate his smile, uttering the only words I can think of. “Thank you, sir.”

  An appreciative smile graces his handsome face, but when he stretches out his hand, palm up, I don’t know how to respond other than with a confused look.

  “The key,” he states. “Give it to me.”

  I hesitate for a moment, knowing I’d be giving him a lot more than just a simple key. I’d grant him with power and trust. Power to decide how long I’m to wear the collar, and the trust to rely on him to take it off once we’re done with our date.

  He raises an eyebrow, a quiet gesture of urgency that’s impossible for me to resist. I rummage through my purse until I find what he asked for, placing the tiny key in his open palm.

  “Good girl.”

  As always, the praise feels like a caress, reassuring and exciting at the same time. I’m oddly giddy when he puts his arm around me and leads me to the black limousine waiting for us.

  “Hope you’re hungry,” Kade says after we’ve taken our seats and the driver starts the engine.

  “You told me not to eat, so yes I am.”

  “Good girl.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “A little place called D’Agate. Italian cuisine,” he replies in a nonchalant tone, as if it’s no big deal.

  “Little place?” I repeat, disbelief resonating in my voice. “Are you kidding me? It’s impossible to get a table at D’Agate! They’re booked for months and super exclusive.”

  Oh my God, I sound like such an idiot. And he seems to agree, unable to hide a smirk at my astonished ramblings.

  “That’s only partially true,” he says. “It’s true that they’re pretty exclusive, but they’re not booked out for months. Not for everyone.”

  He ignores my incredulous lookand stares out the window while I’m tempted to repeat the same question I posed weeks ago.

  Who are you?

  I know he moves in different circles than I do, very different indeed. I know he’s part of the world my sister married into, a world that’s still foreign to me. But I’ve never really grasped the extent to which men like him could make the rest of the world bend to their will.

  I’m not even surprised to hear the staff greet him by name when we get to the restaurant. He walks in like he owns the place, while I stalk behind him, clutching my purse against my body asI scan the scrupulous interior of the most extravagant restaurant I’ve ever been to.

  It’s Venetian style, shining with barrel arches and surrounding pilaster and carvings. The plastered ceilings are almost two stories high, and the almost floor-length windows are framed with heavy burgundy curtains, streaked with golden threads.

  We’re led to a secluded table in an semi-private area, hidden behind another pointed archway.

  I’m so drawn in by the sight of this place that I forget my ongoing predicament when I sit down. Of course he notices the pained grimace on my face, and the first thing he says when he takes his own seat opposite of me is “Still bruised, are you?”

  I throw him a coy smile. “Yes, sir. You did a good job of it.”

  Our menus are delivered, accompanied by two glasses of champagne, carried by a young man who looks more like a butler than a waiter. I sit awkwardly stiff while he presents us with a list of specials that’s too exquisite for me to have any idea what he’s talking about. I just nod along, as if mimicking Kade, who looks at the waiter with alert attention, giving the impression that—unlike me— he has a pretty good idea of what we’ve been presented with.

  I’m grateful when he doesn’t turn to me to ask what I want to eat. Instead, he just orders one of the appetizers mentioned at the beginning and sends the waiter away.

  I feel like my nervous heartbeat is visible in my shaking hands as I raise my glass and clink it against his. I bring it to my lips as quickly as possible, seeking solace in the sweet alcohol. Once again I’m surprised at the rich taste of the golden liquid, wondering if I could ever get used to such luxuries.

  Did Elene ever get used to it?

  “I met your sister a couple days ago,” Kade says, as if he sensed my thoughts wandering to her.

  At the shocked expression on my face, he raises his hand. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. It was just a business dinner with my brother and her husband at their house.”

  “Oh” is all I reply, unable to form coherent sentences.

  “She didn’t say anything either, but the entire evening I couldn’t help wondering how much she knows about us.” Kade raises an eyebrow. “Does she know about us?”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t really talked to her since the wedding.”

  Even I hear the sadness in my voice. Elene and I used to be kind of close, even though we led such different lives for so long. I know she struggled with the way my family compared the two of us, always holding me up as an example of how the perfect daughter ought to be, while she was the wild one, the black seed with the indecent job and questionable life decisions.

  We may have switched places now, but instead of bringing us closer, the change of roles only pushed us farther apart.

  I found myself unable to confide in Elene, which is especially weird, considering I met a man at her wedding who bears so much resemblance to her husband. We’ve grown apart ever since she moved in with Damon, but she was the only person in my entire family who didn’t judge me for leaving Jim so close to our wedding date. She didn’t say a thing. But because she was so busy with her own wedding preparations, she also couldn’t be bothered with the troubles I’d brought upon myself.

  I don’t blame her, but I do miss her. I wish I could talk to her, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  “So, you guys aren’t close?” Kade assumes. “That surprises me, considering you were her maid of honor.”

  I chuckle. “Well, we used to be close, sort of. And it’s not like we don’t like each other. It’s just… things have changed.”

  “How so?” He locks me down with his dark gaze, his eyebrows arching with interest as he awaits my response.

  “We both had a certain place within our family, a role, so everybody always knew who we were and how we’d live our lives,” I tell him. “It was easy, clear, well defined. Elene was the bad girl and I was the good girl. I was the only one who didn’t criticize her for the jobs she chose and for the way she lived her life, and she never put me down either. I guess that’s sort of what we bonded over. Agree to disagree, without judging.”

  I sigh, taking a much-needed pause as I verbalize thoughts that have been running wild inside my head for months. This is new to m
e. I’ve never talked with anyone about any of this, and I’m surprised to hear myself make sense of it only now that someone’s asking.

  And it’s him! He’s the one asking, caring, showing a kind of interest in me that I never considered part of the deal.

  “And then we switched places,” I continue. “Now she’s the one with the perfect husband, and I’m the one who turned the world upside down by what I did.”

  “By leaving Jim, you mean.”

  I nod. “Yes. By calling off a wedding that everyone expected me to go through with. Everyone except Elene.”

  “Did you ever regret it?” He doesn’t seem to be judging, just genuinely interested in my tale.

  I need a moment before I shake my head. “No. I don’t think so. I think I did the right thing.”

  “You think?”

  I press my lips together, feeling like he caught me lying.

  “It was hard,” I admit. “And sometimes it still is. I had something with him: security, a clear future, stability. He never hurt me—”

  “Unlike me,” Kade interjects, winking at me.

  I regard him with a coy smile. “I don’t think it counts when I beg you to do it.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “But to answer your question, no, I don’t regret it. It was the right thing to do.”

  He responds with a solemn nod, and we take another sip of champagne as the appetizer is placed on the table between us. As exotic as the list of specials sounded to me, this dish just looks like a very fancy version of bruschetta, next to an arrangement of mozzarella cheese.

  “They’re known for this,” Kade enlightens me. “But they don’t always serve it. You’re lucky.”

  “Lucky,” I repeat, smiling at him. “Yes, I truly am.”

  Chapter 26

  Kade

  “I didn’t know you’re actually working with my sister’s husband,” she says, giving me a curious look across the table as she takes another bite of the best caprese bruschetta this town has to offer. “Why did you never tell me? I mean, you mentioned that your families somehow know each other through business and that’s why you were at their wedding, but this is—”

  “We’re not working together,” I clarify. “Not yet, at least.”

  The D-ring of her collar dangles when she tilts her head to the side, arching her eyebrows in question.

  “I’m considering a collaboration with them,” I explain. “They made me an offer. That’s what we talked about during dinner.”

  “Why was Elene there?”

  “Because it was at their house, like I told you. It’s not uncommon to have the host’s wife around when you’re invited to their home, even if it’s for a business dinner.”

  She nods, looking unconvinced. “I see.”

  I give her a light frown. “Do you not trust me? What do you think I’m hiding from you?”

  “Nothing,” she replies, a little too fast for my taste. But whatever is going through her head, she’s not willing to share it with me.

  I don’t like that, but I also don’t feel like probing for something I may not want to hear the answer to. It doesn’t concern me, nor should it.

  “The bruschetta was great, by the way,” she says, still chewing on the last piece as she points to the empty plate. “I could eat that forever. There’s nothing I love more than good bread-based dishes.”

  “Do you want more?” I ask, already about to call the waiter.

  She looks at me as if I’d just made the most outrageous suggestion. “Um, no, it’s fine.”

  “We can order as much as you like.”

  “But then I’ll get too full for dinner.”

  “So? There’s no law against eating mountains of bruschetta for dinner, if that’s what you feel like.”

  Her eyes are still wide, looking like she doesn’t quite understand what I’m trying to tell her. “But… wouldn’t that be a waste?”

  I can’t help but chuckle at her confusion, shaking my head as I call the waiter over to our table. I order another serving of bruschetta and some olives, as well as a cured meats selection.

  “We’ll just have an antipasti dinner,” I tell her after the waiter takes our order and scurries away.

  She’s still looking at me with that puzzled expression. “Do you always eat like that?”

  “Whatever I feel like? Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  She moves her lips as if tasting the idea, chewing on it until it reveals its true flavor so she knows what to think of it.

  “Are you about to call me a rebel again?” I tease her.

  Her lips curve into a smile while she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t dare. I know you don’t like that.”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just not sure if the title fits.”

  “Well, do you always do whatever you feel like? No matter if it’s right or wrong? No matter what people think of it?”

  “Is eating a selection of antipasti wrong to you, little girl?”

  This time she laughs out loud, holding her little belly while I revel in the sight of her. Watching her break, causing cries and tears of pain to adorn her presence, is a beautiful thing to witness. But I underestimated how mesmerizing, how charming her cute laughter could be.

  “It’s definitely out of the ordinary,” she assesses eventually. “I thought we’d established that that’s halfway rebellious. But that’s not what I meant, really. I was just thinking in general.”

  “Have I ever done anything that didn’t sit well with other people?” I summarize.

  She nods. “Yes, let’s put it that way.”

  “All the time. Most of my life, actually,” I answer in full honesty.

  “Like what?”

  “Like using my generous trust fund to travel through Europe after I graduated high school, partying and gambling, instead of using the money for anything sensible, like school. And then, to make it even worse, coming back to the States with my bank account filled to the brim, because I’m not the idiot my father thought me to be.”

  “Where did the money come from? Gambling?”

  “No!” I reply, offended by the assumption. “I’m sorry if that doesn’t match your expectations of me, Lila, but while I may have been an unruly son, I’m not the kind of bad boy you want to see in me. I have ideas that no one else has, ideas that improve the way companies can operate their online marketing, and I have a good business sense. I know how to turn those ideas into profit, even without my family’s connections or their help.”

  Fuck, did I really just say that? Good business sense? It’s a good thing my brother can’t hear me right now. I’d hate to admit how right he was about me.

  “So you’re really not that different to your brother, then, and to Elene’s husband,” Lila concludes, twisting the knife in the wound.

  “I’m not like them,” I insist.

  “But you said—”

  “It’s not that simple!” I sound like a stubborn child. How typical.

  She flinches, offering me a reproachful look. “Sorry. Again, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I’m considering working with them,” I clarify.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  She’s asking an intriguing question. What is stopping me? What Greg and Damon suggested actually sounded good to me. They weren’t just after my idea. Unlike other times before, my brother didn’t just want to stop me from selling one of my ideas before he could get his hands on it. He wanted us to grow it together, building our very own branch away from my father’s business. Who would’ve thought he’d ever grow tired of simply being my father’s successor, which comes close to being his henchman.

  “It’s a big decision,” I try to explain. “I don’t want to jump the gun on this.”

  She gives me a knowing smile. “I can tell you want to do it. Maybe you’re just hesitant because it would make you just like them—no matter if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  I hate how right she is about
this. She’s seeing right through me.

  “Didn’t think that collar would turn you into such a sage, little girl.”

  A blush colors her cheeks, and she lifts her hand to touch the collar, gently stroking the cool metal while she lowers her gaze.

  “Do you like wearing it?”

  She nods right away. “Yes, a lot.” She smiles cheekily before adding, “It almost feels as good around my throat as your hand does.”

  Chapter 27

  Lila

  I was surprised—and a little disappointed, if I’m being honest—when Kade informed me that he intended to take me straight back home after dinner. He never said we’d go to The Velvet Rooms tonight, but still, it felt weird.

  It’s not so much that I don’t enjoy spending time with him without sex and play, without being whipped until I bleed and fucked until I almost pass out. On the contrary. We spent almost four hours at the restaurant, indulging in high-end food and drinks while talking, teasing, sharing things like the closest of friends. Or like boyfriend and girlfriend.

  So what do I make of it?

  Having dinner together, talking all evening, sharing intimate details about each other’s lives—isn’t that what people in a real relationship do? Is that what we are now? More than sex? More than playing and pushing boundaries? Did something change?

  And how long does he want me to wear the collar? Will he give me the key back once we’re at my door, or will he take it with him? How would I feel about that? How would I feel about being asked to wear it at work, where everyone could see? Oh, the looks and questions I would get, especially from Sybil.

  I intend to ask him about all of this, but I’m weirdly mute during our drive back to my place. Does he plan to come with me upstairs? Should I invite him? Or would that just achieve the opposite and chase him away for good, because I read the signs wrong?

  We spend most of the drive in calm company, and I’m still overflowing with insecurity and questions I don’t dare ask by the time we reach my apartment. I take a deep breath, just about to voice at least one of the many questions bugging me, when my eyes catch on something right at my doorstep.