A brief “Barkin” pun burbled up to the surface of my mind at the thought of a dog with a purse, and I laughed, a little crazily.
“Sorry, I just remembered something funny.” I opened my own purse—a Madison East/West Coach bag in purple leather that had cost a measly two-hundred and looked like a Target clearance buy in comparison to the magnificent ex-alligator before me—and pulled out the scariest weapon in my arsenal.
I had an AmEx Centurion card. The fabled “black” card, which Neil had been graciously invited to secure for me after he’d made a few calls. His knighthood ceremony probably had less pomp and procedure than getting the damn black AmEx did. They’d sent the card to me in a friggin’ black leather box.
When I pulled the card from my wallet, Holli made a sort-of strangled, squeaking noise. Debra didn’t even twitch. She took the card, swiped it, and it was done.
I’d just bought a purse that cost more than the house I’d grown up in. More than my college education.
Debra packed the Birkin away in a dust sleeve, and then inside a large orange box before slipping that into a carrier bag. “Thank you very much, Ms. Scaife. And if you need service in the future, here’s my card.”
I took it from her. I guessed she must work on commission.
The moment we left the store, clutching our bags to our chest in the biting New York cold, Holli turned to me with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I can’t, either.” My shivering had nothing to do with the icy temps. My knees wobbled. I thought I might pass out. “Should I take it back? Do you think I can?”
“Um, probably not,” Holli said with a raised eyebrow. “Unless you’re willing to never shop at Hermés again.”
At the moment, that didn’t sound too bad. I clearly could not be trusted to make rational decisions in that store.
What was Neil going to say?
CHAPTER TEN
On Saturday afternoon, I paced in front of the fireplace in the living room, my phone in my hand.
“You look like you’re waiting to get in trouble,” Emma snorted, flicking the screen of her iPad without glancing up. “Has he found out about your murder bag?”
From the moment I’d walked into the apartment with the Birkin, Emma had been trying out different names for it. Of all of them, “murder bag” was the one that had stuck.
I glared at her, but she was too lost in Candy Crush to care. Though I was concerned about how Neil would take me dropping a hundred-thousand on a purse, I was more concerned with how his evening with Emir was going. Of course, I couldn’t tell her that.
“No,” I said with forced cheerfulness. “I’m just missing him. We haven’t been apart since, you know. Hospitals.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think—” she began, and she looked so concerned, I felt guilty.
It wasn’t as though I’d lied; it was the first time Neil and I had been apart since he’d come home from the hospital, and I really was nervous about it. But nothing like the anxiety I’d been feeling since I’d spoken to him a few hours ago.
Neil had called me when Emir had arrived and told him about the text conversation we’d had. Emir had left it to me to break the concept down: that I thought Neil should try submission again, this time with a better partner.
It wasn’t that I needed Neil to switch. I would always want him to be my Dom, and I couldn’t see myself seriously calling the shots in the bedroom, beyond the occasional playful occurrence. But something he’d said on therapy night had shocked me. I’ve been powerless for a long time. And I didn’t like it.
Neil hated when I tried to make any link between his sexual need for control and his micromanaging in every other facet of his life, probably because it was too close to the truth for him. I had a suspicion that if he let himself be dominated sexually, he might see the link he denied. I didn’t expect it to change those aspects of his personality—I wouldn’t want it to—but I suspected that one of the reasons he was still so shaken by the cancer and his scary hospital experience was that his need for control was so total. If he felt powerless in one area of his life, then he felt powerless in all of them.
I really hated the thought of Neil feeling so bad.
“You know, if you guys want me to take off for a few days and give you some space when he gets back, I could always stay at Michael’s place,” she offered.
As far as I was aware, Neil hadn’t spoken to Emma yet about the living, and possibly moving, situation. But sometimes, when you see an in, you have to take it. I dropped into the armchair. “About that… We had something we wanted to talk to you about.”
She paled, then squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head with a “tch” of embarrassment. She was like a carbon copy of her father sometimes.
“I know, I know.” She swung her legs over the side of the sofa and tossed her iPad onto the cushion behind her, as if she were settling in for a long discussion. “You want me out of here.”
“What? No. Not ‘you’ as in me, myself. ‘You’ as in we. Both of us. But not actually ‘we.’ I mean, we don’t want you to—”
“Sophie, please.” She frowned in annoyance at my fumbling. “I’m not upset. I completely understand. Believe me, if I could get all of Michael’s roommates to move out, I would jump at the chance.”
“Well, yeah, I kinda assumed that you and me and Neil were in the same boat.”
“Not quite in the same boat,” she reminded me, with an edge of petty sarcasm I’d come to realize was a sign of her comfort with a person. I suspected Emma only let herself become truly irritated with the people she cared about, because no one else was worth her time.
She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back. “I realize how immature it is to be grossed out by the thought of one’s parent having a personal life, I really do. But you must understand, he didn’t introduce me to the women in his life when I was young. When I was staying with him, he didn’t have overnight guests. Even Elizabeth didn’t sleep here when I was home until they got engaged.”
Wow. That was seriously weird, considering they had dated for two years. Neil sounded way more protective than I’d thought he was… Which was a little scary, because I thought he’d already been acting bananas over Emma’s wedding.
“It isn’t that I don’t like you,” she continued. “Or that I don’t think you’re right for him. You two are lovely together, and I’m thrilled that he’s so happy. I just would rather live in a situation in which his happiness didn’t thoroughly gross me out. Michael and I have been looking at other options, but we don’t want to rely on our parents’ money. I’m having a bit of difficulty…downsizing.”
I could sympathize with her there. Though my old apartment could have fit into this one seven or more times, I’d had a hard time adapting to the Fifth Avenue place after life in the London townhouse. It was strange how accustomed I could get to too much house. I was like a goldfish, my space needs growing in accordance to the size of my bowl.
“You know, your dad and I are actually looking for a place.”
“Really? I had no idea.” Either she didn’t know how to take the news, or she was just bothered by the fact that we hadn’t told her before. “Here in the city?”
“No, we’re actually going to look at a place out in Sagaponack on Monday. Nothing set in stone or anything,” I reassured her.
My phone rang.
I looked down at it, then guiltily back to Emma.
“Go and take it,” she said wearily.
I hit the call button and stood, and Emma grabbed the television remote.
“Neil?” I asked, which was silly, since I knew who it was already. I had no idea why I always did that on the phone.
When he spoke, he sounded tired. “Yes, darling, it’s me.”
“Is everything okay?” I walked from the room, covering the receiver with one hand to block out the sound of the television as I headed to the bedroom. “How did things go?”
“Wonderfully
. It all went wonderfully.”
I let out a quiet breath of relief.
“This trip has certainly given me some new perspective,” he added.
Was that a good thing, or a bad thing he was trying to disguise as a good thing through managerial word trickery? I could never tell. He’d built a media empire on his skills at spoken subterfuge and double meaning.
“Wow, I’m glad to hear that.” I remained neutral. I was picking up some of his tricks. “Perspective on what?”
There was a momentary pause, long enough that I would have worried we’d been disconnected, if I hadn’t heard the soft sound of his breath in the receiver. Tension drew up tight in me, like a wire ready to snap. I wanted him to be with me. I wanted to touch him, to curl up beside him and listen to all the dirty details of his evening. And, well, I kind of wished I’d been there, myself.
But then maybe Neil wouldn’t have gotten the “perspective” I hoped he was talking about.
Finally, he said, “I’ll discuss it with you when I come home. I promise. Right now, you need to get your sleep, and I do, too.”
Since when do I go to bed at six? I chalked that one up to sheer exhaustion.
“When I get my hands on you, we’re going to make up for lost time,” he promised.
It was embarrassing how loudly I squealed at the prospect. I knew we were insanely lucky, not only that he had survived the summer, but that we had this whole new chance to fall in love with each other again. But seriously, I annoyed myself sometimes with how gooey and romantic I got.
“I can’t wait.” I tried for seductive, but I know it came off silly as all get-out.
There was a change in his tone when he said, “I must go, darling. Emir is still here, and I don’t want to be rude. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
Emir was still there? Oh, he was definitely going to have to spill the naughty details if he was spending the entire night with him. “I love you.”
“I love you, Sophie.”
After we hung up, I went back to the living room.
“Everything okay?” Emma asked, muting the TV.
“Yup, everything’s fine. We’re just being ooey gooey gross together. You wouldn’t want to hear about it.” She most definitely would not. Though Neil was open with me about his sexuality, his daughter was under the impression that any rumors of her father’s bisexuality were just that. Snapping the conversation back to what we had been talking about before, I asked, “So, you’re not upset that we’re looking for a house? I was worried you might think I was trying to get rid of you.”
“Not at all. Do you know how much simpler my life will be if my father lives two hours away?” She sighed in what I suspected was only slightly exaggerated bliss.
“Do you want me to try to convince him to move to Philly?” I asked with a snort.
“I hear Auckland is lovely, you might try there.” She rolled her eyes. “I love my father. I really do. But he’s so…”
“Overbearing?”
“At times, yes.” She shrugged. “I suppose it makes me a terrible daughter, doesn’t it? I should just be happy that he’s still here.”
“You can be happy that he’s still around and severely irritated with him, too. I speak from experience.” Even though I missed him like crazy at the moment.
“Well, thanks for telling me about the house. And I think I will take off tomorrow for a few nights with Michael.” Emma reached for the remote and clicked the volume on again. “Although I would love to see the look on his face when he finds out about that purse.”
* * * *
As it so happened, I did not have to tell Neil about the Birkin right away. I didn’t get the chance. When he came home the next evening, he was wiped out exhausted. He poured himself a drink, wrestled out of his shirt, and dropped into his chair by the fireplace in the living room.
“Turn that on, will you, wife?” he asked, smacking my backside as I walked past.
I flipped the switch to bring the gas flames up and frowned at him over my shoulder. “I draw the line at you ordering me around and calling me ‘wife,’ when you refuse to set a date. How was the flight?”
“Miserable. There was so much turbulence that at one point I thought I might actually be sick.” Neil hated flying, but he didn’t mind it as much when we were together. His face was pale and dark circles shadowed his eyes. I should have gone with him.
I rubbed my hands down the front of my denim-clad thighs as I took a seat on the sofa. “That bad?”
He put his glass on the coffee table and patted his knee. “I can’t have you all the way over there. Not after the day I’ve had.”
“You know, I’m really more interested in the night you had,” I reminded him. I took his hand to steady myself as I sat across his lap. His bare chest was warm and wonderful against my upper arm.
He gave me a tired smile and pulled me into his arms to lay my head against his shoulder. “Yes, yes, fine. What do you want to know?”
“I want to know everything!” I exclaimed. “Did you sub for him?”
“I did.” Neil kissed the top of my head, as though that were a sufficient end to the answer.
“Did you like it?” I demanded.
“I enjoyed myself. Though I can’t imagine I’d ever want to do it again.” He stroked my hair down my back, his fingers stopping to trace the band of my bra beneath my t-shirt. “The submission, that is. It was enough for me to try it. But it’s damned hard work.”
“You sound surprised.” I skimmed my bare foot up and down his ankle. It felt so good just to cuddle with him again. “And you do put me through the ringer.”
“Yes, I must admit, I have a new appreciation for your stamina.”
“So, what did he do to you?” I squirmed a little, pressing my thighs together, and I knew it wasn’t a subtle enough motion to escape his notice.
“Well,” he began with a slow, audible breath. He brushed my hair back from my neck and slowly drew his fingers up and down, from the bend of my collarbone to the top of my breast and back as he spoke. “There was a bit of making out, then he made me wait for a rather long time. On my knees, which hurt a fair bit more than I’d considered it might. I always give thought to how your joints feel when you’re bound, or what kinds of positions you can hold, but kneeling seemed so benign, I never stopped to think about how it was affecting your knees and back.”
I leaned into his touch with a happy sigh. “I’m fine with it. It’s much better than some of the other positions you’ve put me in. What else happened?”
“I sucked his cock. He rimmed me, there was some ass play—”
Though it would have been nice to be a totally mature adult, there was something so bizarre to me about hearing Neil very matter-of-factly, almost clinically, even, describing the sex he’d had with someone who wasn’t me. I burst out into a storm of giggles.
“Should I go on?” he asked, scolding.
I forced myself to settle down and twisted to face him. I smoothed his chest hair under my palms and tried to make eye contact with my most serious face on. It only half worked. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know, it’s so naughty. Did you, um…did you go all the way?”
“Yes, we did.” He lips quirked in the half-smile I found so damned appealing. “I let him fuck me.”
“Wow, really?” I tried to imagine it, but nothing my brain came up with was satisfactory. I was going to have to see this with my own two eyes. “Hey, you know…that’s something we have in common. We’ve both been fucked by Emir.”
“That we have,” he agreed, with a little eye roll and laugh that suggested I didn’t know the half of it.
Oh, I wanted to know the half of it.
“He’s very good,” Neil continued, holding me tight with one arm as he leaned forward for his glass. He took a long sip and grimaced in the way of a truly satisfied scotch drinker. “You never told me how good.”
“I wasn’t sure I was supposed to. I didn’t want to make you fee
l as though I were comparing the two of you.” I leaned in for a kiss, tasting the alcohol on his mouth. “Besides, I’m sure it’s different, having sex with a woman than with a man, right?”
“It is. I find my hands end up in different places on a woman’s body than on a man’s, for one,” he said, silently offering me his glass.
I took it and lifted it for a sip. “How so?”
“Well, for example, if I’m fucking a man from behind, I’ve noticed I’ll generally hold on to his shoulder or put my hands at the small of his back, whereas with a woman—”
“You’ll pull her hair or grab her hips,” I finished for him with a knowing nod. I took a swallow from the glass and handed it back to him.
“Exactly. And it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with body type.”
“Huh.” I shrugged. “I guess I never thought of little habits like that, if I have any.”
I gave in to one of the naughty impulses pinging in my brain and pulled my t-shirt over my head. I tossed it aside with a grin, my breath lifting my tits in my cute polka dot bra.
He smiled and sighed, leaning back contentedly. “Very pretty, darling. But I am exhausted.”
“That’s okay.” I shrugged. “Talking about sex with you is still in my top fifteen favorite things to do.”
“Didn’t make the top ten, did it? Bad luck.” He reached up and stroked his knuckles over the curve of one padded cup.
“Don’t feel bad. The top seven all involve Chinese food buffets.” I lay against him again, loving the feel of his chest hair against my back.
I loved the way his voice felt rumbling beneath me, too. “It was a very good evening, Sophie. Though I would appreciate it in the future if you didn’t surprise me like that again.”
“Noted.” I did feel badly about that part. “I shouldn’t have done it that way. I should have brought the idea up to you, first, and not to Emir.”
The Bride (The Boss) Page 17
