She didn’t miss the slight edge to his words.
Sophie’s face flamed even more. How could he make her feel like an obnoxious fly even when she was just doing her job?
“Brant is my Uncle Rand’s only son, my father’s older brother. Uncle Rand died when I was eight years old, and Brant was just eighteen. He had pancreatic cancer. My father bought back my uncle’s share of the family business just before Rand died. Brant took that a little personally, and bought his way into the company a few years later. He’s been on me about the company ever since I took over for my father…Brant’s a nosy bastard. Pushy too.”
“Why’s that?” Curiosity buzzed inside her like a veritable hive of bees.
Emery shrugged, the action smooth and natural. He was so at home in his own body. Sophie envied him that comfort. She felt like a stranger in her own skin half the time and didn’t like her body enough to get to know it better. It was easy for Emery, though, she suspected. How could it not, when he was so perfect, so beautiful?
“Brant’s ten years older than me. He wishes he had control of Lockwood Industries, but he has no sense of vision. He’s completely motivated by dollar signs. Don’t get me wrong; he’s family, and he’s a decent guy, but I have a short attention span for people who seem to be born with habits that I loathe or desires I spurn. Brant loves New York. I can’t stand the thought of leaving Long Island. In fact, I don’t leave the island unless it’s an absolute emergency.”
His declaration raised a thousand questions, but Sophie bit her lip, keeping silent. As a journalist, you had to learn how to interview. The best journalists knew when to wait and let their interviewees pace themselves and reveal everything at the right time. Her instincts told her there were many things Emery wasn’t prepared to discuss.
“You’re not asking me why?” Emery raised a brow, almost challenging.
“Nope.”
“Huh. Unpredictable,” Emery murmured.
He retrieved a set of tiny keys from a drawer and walked over to her. He knelt, unlocked the cuff at her ankle, stroking her calf upward as he stood, and then he slipped the cuffs into his pocket. That one little caress promised so much that she bit her lip to stifle a sigh of longing.
“We’ll use them later,” he promised with a wolfish grin. He took her hand in his and led her from kitchen.
***
There was a beautiful grandfather clock at the base of the grand stairs and Sophie touched its gleaming wooden surface.
“Emery, this is beautiful. Does it still work?”
Emery froze, his languorous movements ceasing as he turned to face her. Behind him, at the top of the beautiful stairway hung a massive portrait. Two young boys, twins, with fair hair and ready smiles, stood frozen, gazing out through the layers of dried oil. Sophie stared up at Emery, his face just beneath the two children from where she stood. The same eyes…eyes that followed her in dreams of empty halls and lonely graveyards. The boy on the right, half an inch shorter than the boy on the left, the one with a crooked smile, had to be Emery. Such mischief, such wonder, all captured in that innocent gaze. Sophie’s heart clenched and her eyes burned. That child would come to lose all he held dear.
“The clock hasn’t worked in years.” He flicked his fingers in an impatient gesture and she quickly dashed up the steps, taking his open hand. He grasped hers tightly, but not in a way that hurt. The long walk down the hall, with the silence stretching between them, made her nervous and edgy. When they reached his bedroom, he pushed the door open.
She wasn’t surprised by the room; it was just like him. Elegant and simple with a massive, beautiful, ornately carved bed frame, a dresser, nightstand, and large walk-in closet. Sophie balked just inside the door.
“What’s the matter?” He turned around to face her, a challenge glinting in his eyes.
She swallowed hard, her gaze darting between him and the bed.
“This is part of our bargain. My story for your submission. I want you inmybed tonight withme.” He closed the distance and reached around her to pull the door shut behind her. She leaned back instantly, pressing herself into it, relying on the wood’s steady support.
“Tonight is not about sex. A dominant/submissive relationship isn’t always carnal. Sometimes a dom just needs to hold his submissive close at night, and the sub’s need to be held is just as strong. The best relationships are symbiotic.” As he spoke he slid his hands behind her back and gently pried her away from the door.
“The first lesson tonight is about trust and caring. I want you to undress me.” He stepped back a few feet until he was close to the foot of his bed.
“Undress you?” Sophie remained frozen, her body vibrating with nerves and anticipation.
Emery’s full lips curved into that bad boy smile she was starting to love and hate. It made her want to sigh and rub up against him, and she hated how it affected her so strongly.
He crooked a finger. “Come here, little sub.” His tone was teasing, but his command was strong and her knee-jerk reaction at his command had her approaching him. His jacket was already off, but other than that he was still fully dressed.
“Untie my shoes.” He put a hand on her shoulder and with a faint pressure there, he showed her he wanted her to kneel. Sophie gritted her teeth, not liking the subservience of the position, but once she was on her knees, she focused on the task, unlacing the expensive, Italian leather shoes.
“Thank you,” he praised in a low soft voice that made her inner wanton purr. Then he toed out of his shoes.
“Stand.” He curled one finger under her chin and tilted her head back as she got to her feet. Normally she wouldn’t have liked being ordered around, but it did make it easy to have him tell her exactly what he wanted her to do. It was actually freeing, not to worry about what she was supposed to do. Would it be that easy in bed?
“You’re doing very well, Sophie. Now unbutton my shirt.” He waited patiently.
