In Expert Hands

by Lily Harlem

  “May I?” Imogen asked.

  “Sure, go ahead,” one said without looking up.

  Imogen reached for the slim visitors guide then glanced at a stern-looking security man standing to her left. She gave him a brief smile then opened up the map and stared around the vacuous space.

  “Wow,” she said quietly.

  Two huge sets of steps led upward and arches beneath them appeared to feed into more corridors. She decided to head up and enjoy the view from there. She wished Kane had come with her—he would have liked it. Crowds didn’t work for him but there were no crowds here.

  She glanced through an open doorway. A long room, walls stacked high with books, greeted her. In the center of the room, sitting at heavy wooden tables, people of all ages and colors had their heads bent over books and piles of papers. Some held pens and were either writing furiously or fiddling, chewing on them. Others were deep in concentration. A few stood by the shelves and one man was halfway up a ladder reaching for a fat leather-bound volume.

  She stepped in to the silence. Just the sound of her soft shoes on the wooden floor seemed super loud. She wondered what type of books were in this room and wandered up to a stacked shelf to her right. The title of the first book she settled her gaze on was The History of Chemical Engineering—not something she could sit with and soak up the atmosphere.

  She wandered to the next section, heading deeper into the room. A librarian, sitting at a desk on a plinth, glanced her way. Imogen half smiled then reached for a book and pulled it from the shelf. Anthropological Debates. Not quite her thing either. She put it back.

  A sudden loud beeping rang around the room.

  She gasped.

  Shit.

  It was her phone.

  She tore at the zipper on her purse and pulled it out, which only made the second beep—signaling she had a text message—all the louder.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed at the librarian, who had stood and wore a furious frown. “Really sorry.”

  Quickly, she flicked the phone to silent and hurried past a table of what appeared to be school students who were all staring at her.

  A flush traveled up her throat to her cheeks. She sped up, fled through the doorway onto the main landing that looked down at the reception area. Her face felt on fire.

  Damn it! Why hadn’t she thought to turn off the sound on her phone? She always did if she was going into meetings or somewhere silent. How could she have forgotten? It must be because she was in holiday mode.

  Holiday? It had been a business trip to start out with. When had it become a holiday?

  She pressed her fingers over her hot cheeks and sat on a bench. She hoped the librarian wouldn’t chase out after her and order her from the building.

  She glanced at the screen on her phone.

  Message from Master

  “Message from Master?” she whispered. “What the…?”

  She hit open.

  My darling Imogen. I hope you are having a nice day. As I predicted, I miss you.

  It was Kane, obviously. But when had he put his personal cell number in her phone?

  Hello Kane, she wrote, When did you get your hands on my phone?

  When you were sleeping last night. And you forgot Sir in your text.

  I’m not wearing the collar. That means you’re Kane. She hit send and stared out of an arched window at the busy Manhattan street that led into the distance.

  Maybe one day you’ll wear the collar permanently.

  She re-read the text. That was a pretty heavy thing to suggest. It seemed almost like marriage but with a twist. She put the phone in her bag and pulled out a bottle of water, took a sip.

  A few minutes later she got another message. She put the lid back on her water and took out the phone again.

  Where are you?

  At the library and you nearly got me thrown out. I forgot to switch to silent. If looks could kill I’d be dead.

  Silly girl. Would you like me to hire the place? So you can have it to yourself?

  I don’t think that will be necessary. Where are you?

  In a meeting with a sheik, an ambassador, and eight company directors.

  And you’re texting?

  They’re talking amongst themselves.

  She smiled. He was bad, but she loved that he was sitting in a boardroom thinking of her, texting her.

  Last night was amazing. She grinned as she hit send.

  I agree.

  She hesitated then, I’ve never come so hard. You took my breath away.

  I’m glad to hear it.

  My ass is still sore. I’m sitting down now. I can feel the paddle on my skin.

  Good.

  What did I look like to you, when I was on the cross?

  Sexy.

  Is that all?

  Sexy, vulnerable, beautiful…mine.

  Yours?

  Yes, all mine.

  Imogen licked her lips. She liked being all his and she could almost hearing him say the word ‘mine’ in a low, growling voice.

  Did you feel satisfied after I came on your tongue? Again she hit send, knowing that she was pushing the risqué nature of the texts.

  You’re a little minx and you’ll pay for this!

  Pay for what? She squirmed on the seat and her tender skin complained. She knew exactly what she was doing and it sounded like it was working.

  You know what…

  Are you hard…Master?

  You know damn well I am. How could I not be thinking of you on the cross, surrendered to me, willing to let me show you my ways?

  Your ways seem to be agreeing with me.

  Well be prepared for more, later.

  She grinned and her belly clenched. She could hardly wait. I have to go.

  Send me a photograph…now.

  Okay.

  Imogen stood and glanced around. She saw a sign for the restrooms and hurried toward it. Once inside a cubicle, she stripped off her top then her bra. The cubicle wall was wooden, the same rich nutty shade as the bookshelves. Quickly, she fluffed her hair and licked her lips. She angled the phone and took a selfie.

  Damn. The picture looked shocking with the flash.

  She reposed and took another without. Much better—her skin was flesh colored, her nipples rosy. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders in a just-fucked way, and she’d pouted a little as she’d concentrated taking the picture.

  She saved it then hit send to Master. The small mailing sign seemed to take forever to travel over the top of the screen, but finally it went.

  Sheik Mohammed says I’m a very lucky man.

  “Ahh…” Imogen slapped her hand over her mouth. No, he wouldn’t have, surely. It was for his eyes only. Really? Oh, God, this would be terrible if it got out or got back to her superiors at Coutts. How could she have been so impulsive? She shook her head and frowned.

  Please hit delete on that photo!

  I’ll do no such thing. But don’t worry, the sheik hasn’t seen it. He thinks I’m checking the stock exchange, not looking at hot pictures of my half-naked woman and deciding what to do to her tonight.

  Thank goodness for that.

  But I really should voice my opinion on the takeover. I will see you later. Be ready.

  Yes Sir.

  And now I really can’t stand up to make my point. Goodbye, tease.

  Imogen slipped her phone away and put her clothes back on. She’d never sent indecent images of herself before, not to anyone, yet here she was flashing pictures of her breasts to Kane Ward.

  Bloody hell. Her life had turned upside down. This time last week she was running a bank and working all the hours she was awake. Now she was in New York with a tender ass, sending lewd pictures and wondering what kinky things one of the richest men in the country was going to do to her later.

  She put her hair back in its ponytail to keep the air flowing around her hot neck. It seemed Kane Ward was pushing her boundaries in more ways than one, and as he’d promised, letting out
a side of her she hadn’t known was there.

  After a pleasant walk around Central Park and an ice-cream, Imogen went back to the hotel. She poured a drink from the minibar and spent a relaxed hour enjoying the view over the city and painting her toe and fingernails a deep shade of scarlet. She’d was planning on wearing her little black dress to dinner and the red would brighten up the outfit, plus it would match her lipstick.

  She had a long soak in the bath—with a whole bottle of bubbles tipped in—then dried, applied body cream and put on sexy black underwear. In just her knickers and bra, she sat at the dressing table and began to pile up her hair with pins. She hummed a gentle tune, something she’d heard back home, and enjoyed the process of preparing herself for Kane.

  She wondered what his brother would be like. Would he have the same determined, masterful air that Kane exuded, or would he be meeker, the shier, younger brother always looking up to his older sibling? It would be nice to meet him and his…girlfriend. Yes, girlfriend not wife, that’s what Kane had said, wasn’t it?

  Imogen had just pulled on the tight-fitting but elegant black dress when she heard the elevator door. She was about to struggle with the zip at the back of the dress but waited, hoping for help. “Is that you, Kane?” she called, her heart giving a happy flip that she’d see him any second.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, coming into the room.

  “Thank you.” She smiled.

  He didn’t look bad himself—his suit still pristine and not a hair out of place. His appearance was the same as when he’d left that morning.

  “Do you need a hand with that?” He nodded at where she was now fumbling with the zip.

  “Yes please.” She turned, offering him her back.

  He took the zip and touched his lips to the patch of skin between her shoulder and neck.

  “Though after that little messaging performance and then the picture,” he said, his breaths hot on her flesh, “I should really be tipping you over my knee and spanking you.”

  The skin on her buttocks tingled. Getting tipped over his knee at the club hadn’t worked for her, but now…now she knew what it could lead to…

  “Except you’re not wearing the collar so I won’t.” He dragged the zip upward and the material tightened around her chest. “Will you wear it later though?”

  “The collar?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned and rested her hands on his upper arms. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s the start of what I want.” He cupped her chin and kissed her.

  Imogen sighed and rested against him. The day had seemed to double in hours as she’d waited for this moment.

  “Mmm, so good,” he said, pulling back. “Too good, in fact.” He glanced at his watch. “But there is no time for any of that now…much as I would like there to be after today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had to address a boardroom full of CEOs and dignitaries while sitting down.”

  “Why?” She knew why, but wanted him to say it. She pressed her lips together to hold in a satisfied smile.

  “Because.” He took her hand and rested it over his groin. His cock was solid and pushing at his trousers. “Once I’d seen that photograph I was ready to go. Still am.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He grinned. “No, you’re not, but it’s okay. I’ll get my revenge.”

  A small tremble wound up Imogen’s spine. The sparkle in his eyes, the feel of his erection, and the way his breaths had picked up, just a little, turned her on. She had no doubt he’d get his revenge and it would be as sweet as it was torture.

  He suddenly stepped away. “I’ll shower and we’ll go. Give me five minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  He disappeared into the other bedroom where his clothes were and he’d showered previously.

  Imogen reapplied her lipstick that had become smudged by his kiss, and added the pretty sapphire necklace and earrings to her outfit.

  The night stretched ahead, full of possibilities and adventure—full of Kane.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Imogen sipped her wine and looked across the table at Taylor and Marie. She’d been right to think Taylor would be like his brother, he was. Maybe a fraction taller and a little leaner, but other than that he had similar features, the same dark hair and a way of moving that screamed control in every aspect of his life.

  Marie, on the other hand, was soft and pretty and quick to smile. She had gentle curves and generous breasts and wore a pale blue dress that accentuated her enviable hourglass figure. Her blonde hair fell like bubbles around her shoulders, and when she moved her head to talk to Taylor, the slim leather collar around her neck shifted slightly against the tendons.

  A week ago, Imogen would have thought it an unusual necklace, but now she knew differently. Taylor and Marie were clearly a part of the BDSM scene.

  “So how is it going with the new club project?” Taylor asked, directing his question to Kane.

  “Good.” Kane picked up his knife then began to spread foie gras on a slice of wheat bread. “And I’m moving forward to acquiring the properties in Berlin and Rome. The one in London is already a done deal.”

  Imogen cut into her salmon terrine. He was talking about the sex clubs he was setting up, he must be. They were the cities he’d said he was buying in. It was clear Taylor was in the know about the project.

  “And Imogen is helping me out with details,” Kane added. “We went last night.”

  “Oh, really?” Taylor asked. “How did that go, Imogen?”

  Imogen looked quizzically at Kane. What did he mean her to reveal? That they’d played and she’d been tied to the cross and paddled? That it had been the hottest, edgiest sexual experience of her life and she’d been practically knocked unconscious with the force of her orgasm?

  “She has a good eye,” Kane said, “for what’s appealing to women.”

  “I’m sure.” Taylor popped a prawn in his mouth and chewed. When he’d swallowed he spoke again. “Actually, I meant to ask you a favor about that club, Kane.”

  “You want a recommendation?” Kane asked.

  “How did you guess?” Taylor laughed. “Yes, we’re here to stay for a while.” He brushed a lock of hair over Marie’s shoulder and his face softened into a loving smile. “Marie is planning on setting up a fashion design business, so it would be good to have somewhere to play that’s local.”

  “Other than in my apartment?” Kane laughed.

  “I’m sorry about that.” Taylor shrugged, not appearing sorry in the least. “I’ll start searching for somewhere else so you can have your place back when you’re in town.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. It would be empty most of the time. I’m only here a few weeks a year. I’d rather you used it.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “And of course I’ll put your names forward,” Kane said. “I can’t see it being a problem.”

  “Thank you,” Marie said, smiling and touching the collar for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “My pleasure,” Kane said, “and I should say it’s very beautiful, your collar.”

  “Thank you.” Marie turned to Taylor.

  He leaned close to her and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “We chose it today.”

  “Congratulations,” Kane said. “I didn’t realize it was so new.”

  “Yes, I love it. Rubies are my favorite.” She stroked over the small red stones set in the thin leather. “I’m going to wear it always.”

  “You’ll never take it off?” Imogen asked, the words coming out with more surprise lacing them than she’d planned.

  “No,” Marie said. “Taylor is my Master. I am his woman.” She sucked in a breath, her chest straining against her dress. “This collar is a symbol of my commitment to him and that I will obey him at all times.”

  “At all times?” Imogen struggled with that. How could they have an equal relationship
if Taylor always told Marie what to do and she did it? Not just in the bedroom but also out of it, in everyday life?

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said, glancing at his brother. “I thought…we thought, with the club and everything that…”

  “That Imogen was part of our lifestyle,” Kane finished for him. “She’s new, but a quick learner.”

  “I’m sorry,” Imogen said, worried that she’d said something wrong. “If I offended you.”

  Marie smiled. “No apology needed, and I’m glad you’re learning about the way we live and intend to live—there are many ways for relationships to work, not just the traditional one.”

  “Yes, I’m seeing that.”

  “Marie knows that I will only make decisions that put her first,” Taylor said, topping up everyone’s wine. “It is my responsibility as her Master to make sure she is happy and satisfied in every aspect of her life and can have room to be the best person she can be and achieve her goals.”

  “I understand that and it’s very honorable,” Imogen said, “but what if you disagree on something basic, like the color to paint the bathroom, or where to go for your holiday, whether to have red or white wine?” She indicated the glass of Merlot in front of her.

  “We wouldn’t,” Marie said.

  “But what if—?”

  “We wouldn’t,” Marie repeated. “Because the decisions are Taylor’s to make and I know he’ll have made them in my best interest.”

  “But—?”

  “Imogen, try this foie gras,” Kane said, hovering a tiny triangle of bread by her mouth. “It’s delicious.”

  Imogen hesitated then took the morsel of food Kane had offered.

  “How is it?” Kane asked.

  “Mmm, nice.” Imogen wiped at a crumb from the corner of her mouth.

  “Tell me about your fashion designing,” Kane said to Marie.

  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?