Page 49 of RAKEish

“Dual citizenship then?” Lux asked, joining him at the window with its expansive view.

He sighed, the sound laden with bureaucratic frustration. “It should be that way, but my birth certificate is a mess. I’m fighting to fix it. Until then, I’m here on a visa.”

“That explains Frankie,” Lux mused aloud, piecing together the constraints of his situation.

“My stepmother was my first lesson in tolerating the intolerable,” Scott said, a shadow crossing his features.

“Was she cruel to you?”

Scott shook his head. “Not cruel, just…resentful of the son of her rival.”

Lux let out a low whistle. “Sounds scandalous.”

“You could say that.” A smirk played at the corner of Scott’s mouth.

“So your mom married a man cursed to never love her. That must have been a sad arrangement.”

“Not at all. Mom loved Dad and he adored her. Their story, though far from traditional or royally sanctioned, was one of laughter and shared passions.”

“Will you follow in your father’s footsteps and someday get married despite your curse?” Lux pressed, her curiosity piqued. “Or will your tombstone declare: ‘A rakish bachelor until the very end?’”

“That’s a story for another time,” he reiterated with a gentle firmness that nudged her from her historical inquiries back to the moment. “Right now, there’s something more immediate I need to know.”

She locked eyes with him, her pulse quickening at the gravity in his gaze. “And what’s that?”

“As we move forward, are there any lines I should be conscious of not crossing?” His voice was low and serious, underscoring the importance of her comfort and consent.

Lux hesitated, her tone wavering between caution and curiosity. “Like what, exactly? I’m not sure…”

“If you feel uncertain or want to stop, just say so. A safe word is important.”

Her laugh was nervous, a release of pent-up tension. “That’s rather…cinematic, isn’t it?”

“I’m equipped with handcuffs, blindfolds, and yes, even open to providing spankings…if that intrigues you.”

The offer seemed to straddle the line between proposition and provocation. She couldn’t tell if he was earnest or coaxing her out of her shell. And yet, the thought of yielding, even if just a whisper, to the rake’s desires sent a thrill through her.

Taking a steadying breath, she nodded. “My safe word—or rather, phrase—is…” Her voice faltered as if the gravity of the moment was suddenly too real.

He leaned in, encouraging. “Go on.”

She mustered her resolve. “Hell’s fudging bells,” she declared, the phrase that had always signified chaos now repurposed as her anchor.

His laughter was genuine, a rich sound that filled the room. “Perfect,” he said, and with that single word, he acknowledged not just her choice of safe phrase but the unique blend of strength and vulnerability she brought to the brink of their adventure.

Lux couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across her face, buoyed by the richness of his approval. What had seemed like an absolute disaster the night before was now shaping into an encounter charged with promise.

Scott reached out to her, a silent beckoning. “Let’s begin with the basics. Follow my lead, and never forget—you’re in the driver’s seat. Anything feels wrong, you just use that safe phrase.”

Her fingers entwined with his, and she felt a wave of audacity wash over her. “I think you’ll appreciate the choice I made for my underwear tonight.”

His brow creased slightly. “So you considered the possibility of leaving with someone after the gala?”

“Absolutely,” she lied. “Just because you rejected me yesterday didn’t mean I was out of the game. What with my new look and all your flirtation coaching, I’m no longer a nothing to every man I meet.”

“You’ve never been a ‘nothing’ to me,” he said solemnly. “Always a ‘something.’”

She slipped off her heels and set her purse aside. “Did you ever imagine me as your sordid little secret for one night?” The prospect of being in Scott Landshire’s embrace, surrendering to the kind of passion that until now had been confined to the pages of her well-thumbed novels, sent a thrill through her. The woman she’d become under his tutelage didn’t care if the doorman, the elegant woman from the elevator, or the entirety of Chelsea was privy to her indiscretion—though practicality nudged her to hope it wouldn’t reach the ears of those who could sway her professional future.

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