The Bride (The Boss 3)

“I think you know that I’m not here for the food.” Emir’s smirk went straight to my stomach, where it turned into a swarm of butterflies. He pulled his mobile from his back pocket and held it up. “I received some very interesting texts today, from Chloe.”

“Oh?” What had Sophie been up to? I didn’t like surprises— something she attributed to my alleged control freak nature— and I wasn’t sure how I felt about her texting Emir without telling me.

“Yes, she wanted me to discuss something with you, but I think it would be better if you called her, yourself.” His raised eyebrow intrigued me further.

“Right now?” It seemed terribly rude of me to excuse myself for a call when he’d just arrived.

“I think it will give us a lot to talk about over dinner.” He lifted his wine glass. “Go. Call her. I will wait.”

My mobile was all the way upstairs in the bloody master bath. By the time I’d reached it, a thousand horrid scenarios had already unfolded in my mind, ranging from the absurd— that she was leaving me for Emir— to the irritating— the reality that they had been talking about me behind my back. I was ready to scold her when she answered the phone, but her sweet voice made me falter.

“Hey baby, I thought you would be having dinner with Emir by now,” Sophie greeted me, a note of worry in her voice. “Did he cancel?”

“No. He told me to call you. Said he’d received some interesting texts. Would you care to enlighten me?” I hoped I didn’t sound as unnerved as I felt.

She snorted. “Well, Mr. Jealous, we were talking about you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” I looked over my shoulder, though I knew Emir wouldn’t have followed me. “What’s all this about?”

“Remember when we talked the other night? When you asked what it was like to submit? And you said you’d think about trying it again?”

A spear of dread pierced my chest. “Sophie… you know my history.”

“I do,” she agreed gently. “But Emir is not that d-bag who hurt you.”

That d-bag who’d hurt me had been Stephen, Valerie’s brother, but I hadn’t mentioned that to Sophie. I didn’t need to give her a reason to dislike Valerie by proxy. All Sophie knew was that I had subbed once for a very inexperienced Dom, and that I’d hurt myself struggling with my bonds when I’d forgotten my safe word and panicked.

“He’s not, but Sophie… I’m not sure—”

“I wasn’t thinking you should do anything fancy. No pain. No bondage. But what if you let him take the lead a little, just for tonight?” There was a note of hope in her voice, and I realized then why this was so important to her.

When we’d had that discussion, I’d confessed to her that had my first experience been more positive, I might have better understood why submission appealed to her. It was so important to her that I know, and this was the only way she could truly show me.

“Why now?” I asked, to buy myself a moment to think. Where Sophie was concerned, she could ask me to swim in a tank full of great white sharks because she thought it a good idea, and I might let myself be persuaded.

“Because it scares you,” she stated without hesitation. “You have absolutely no control over so many things that are frightening the hell out of you right now. But you can do this, and be in control and scared at the same time. I think it could be good for you.”

Oh, how well she knew me. Not only was my daughter’s impending wedding— and the reality of losing her to Horrible Michael— driving me absolutely out of my skin, but I was struggling with the ever-changing nature of my relationship with Sophie as we adjusted to life post-cancer. I wasn’t just frightened. I was terrified. And Sophie, bless her, knew that.

“Look, I know how you’re always saying that kink isn’t therapy, and how much it annoys you when people treat it that way.” She sighed. “But I also know that this is something that really bothers you. And since the problem was caused by a bad experience, it might not hurt to try and replace that memory with a better one.”

“I won’t commit to anything right now,” I said cautiously. “I will consider the possibility, if Emir is open to it. Otherwise, this is simply a no-pressure dinner with an acquaintance.”

“We’ve fucked him. I think we’re more than acquaintances.”

“I’ll slap that smart mouth when I get home,” I growled. On the other end of the line, Sophie snickered.

“I hope so,” she purred. “Go on. Have fun. I miss you.”

Downstairs, I found Emir waiting, seemingly at ease on his own. He looked up, his sleepy, darkly-lashed eyes glittering with questions.

Before he could say anything, I told him, “I’ve spoken with Chloe. I’d like to mull it over during dinner, if that’s all right?”

“Of course.”

It was nice to meet someone like Emir, who didn’t view potential sex as a goal to be obtained, but a pleasant future possibility. I’d met— and turned down— many men and women who’d believed that by virtue of my lifestyle, I would instantly want to fuck them. As though intercourse were some kind of secret handshake.

I was glad that Sophie’s first introduction to the club had yielded such positive results, both for her and myself, as well as Emir.