There’s no room in my life to loosen the reins.
But, for some reason, I’m willing to give Harper the chance to prove that she’s different.
I pull into the parking lot of her complex and shoot her a text informing her that I’ve arrived. She walks out a couple minutes later in a form-fitting cocktail dress—black with an ivory lace insert between the neckline and the swell of her perfect breasts. I want to take her to the club, and help her out of that dress.
She smiles at me as I lean over and unlock the door. She slides into the passenger seat, and I turn the car toward downtown.
“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” I ask.
“Not that I know of,” she replies.
“Good.” I glance over and smile at her, once again noting the openness in her blue eyes.
A few minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of my favorite French restaurant. While I think nothing on the menu will pose a problem, knowing of any dietary restrictions will help me to make future choices.
I park, round the car, and offer Harper my arm, which she takes with a smile.
“Have you ever been here?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Never. I’ve heard about it, though.”
“You must try their escargot.”
She tenses slightly. “Snails?”
I chuckle. “At least one.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay.”
Soon we’re seated, a plate of escargot between us while we wait for our salads. Harper considers the appetizer, finally selecting one and squeezing her eyes shut as she pops it into her mouth.
“Well?” I ask after watching her swallow.
She makes a face. “Not for me.”
I nod. “Fair enough. You did as I asked, and now that I know you do not like them, I won’t force you to eat them.”
She smiles with a slight blush and takes a sip of her wine.
My cock stirs. She’s so obedient, and part of me actually wants to let her in. But I’ve spent too long keeping others out. I’ll be what she wants at the club, and occasionally for nights like this, but it can’t go farther than that. Harper can be the submissive I take outside of the club, one who can be at my side as needed for social events.
We chat over dinner, her shivering noticeably every time I run the tip of my shoe down her leg. A part of me does want to take her to the club, but I can see the desire in her eyes, and denial is part of being submissive. She won’t always get what she wants.
The waiter clears the plates and leaves a dessert menu on the table. I’m tempted to order the chocolate mousse for Harper. I want to watch her lick it from a spoon, but the fantasy is interrupted by a cell phone ringing.
I almost chastise her for bringing her phone, but the expression that crosses her face stops the words before I can speak them. The blood drains from her face as she scrambles to answer. I realize that she set a certain ringtone, so she’d know to ignore any other call.
“Hello?” she answers.
Harper listens, becoming paler by the second. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hold up my hand to get the waiter’s attention. He comes over with an expectant look on his face.
“We need the check immediately, please,” I murmur as Harper holds the phone to her ear. “There’s a family emergency.”
“Right away,” he replies.
Harper is still listening to the phone as I retrieve my card, barely glancing at the bill before handing it back. She only hangs up as I stand and offer my hand.
“What happened?” I ask, my hand at the small of her back as I lead her from the restaurant.
Her lower lip quivers. “Lauren just had to take my dad to the emergency room.”
“Does she know what happened?”
“Not yet. She sounded stressed, though.”
“Okay, we’ll go straight there.”
“Thank you.”
Harper fidgets, her hands in her lap as I drive, and I don’t know how to comfort her. It has been so long since I lost my parents, and I was never that close to them. Finally, I pull up in front of the emergency entrance and am grateful to see the option for valet parking. I help her out and hand the keys to the valet, along with a small tip.
Harper is trembling as I rest my hand on her back and lead her toward the door. The red emergency sign above it gives the entrance an ominous glow. Harper looks around as soon as we walk in, quickly spotting somebody on the far side of the waiting room. She rushes from my touch, and I take long strides to keep up.
“Dad!” Harper cries, falling to her knees in front of where he’s sitting, ignoring the woman beside him. “What happened?”
He smiles weakly. “I passed out, sweetheart.”
She reaches up and brushes a couple stray hairs from his forehead. “Are you feeling better now?”
“What do you think?” the woman snaps. “Would we be here if he was feeling better?”
Harper turns with shock written across her face. “Passing out is serious. He can be feeling better and still need to come in.”
“Lauren,” her dad starts.
“No,” Lauren says, standing. “What kind of stupid question is that?” her voice climbs higher, attracting the attention of nearby people. “You passed out, and the first thing she asks is if you feel better! It’s like she’s not even taking this seriously. What has she done since your diagnosis besides visiting you here?”
Harper is visibly on the verge of tears, and I’m done. I stand tall, using my height to look down on her stepmother.
“What has she done? What the hell is wrong with you? She drops everything when you call, just to be close to her dad. She was asking an aspirational question! Asking if he feels better is a question that expresses hope!” I turn and clench my fists, taking several deep breaths before turning back and lowering my voice. “I understand you’re stressed. He’s your husband, but he’s her father, too. Your pain isn’t greater than hers.”
“Axel,” Harper says softly.
“No,” I reply. “She’s in the wrong and needs to know.”
She takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “She knows.”
I pause and take a good look at Harper’s stepmother, who has turned red from embarrassment. I glance around to see several people staring at me, most of them nodding in agreement. I take a breath, hold it several seconds, then release it slowly. I help Harper from her knees and get her settled in the chair on the other side of her dad. I sit on her other side, arm wrapped around her shoulder.
Her dad turns to me after a moment spent consoling his wife. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Axel West,” I reply, offering a hand, which he shakes.
“It looks like my little fainting spell interrupted a date.”
I shake my head. “Dates can be rescheduled. She needs to be here.”
He nods. “A man who has his priorities straight. I can appreciate that.”
“Sullivan?”
We all turn to see a nurse with a wheelchair, and Lauren stands. “Here.”
The nurse pushes the chair over. “Let’s get you into triage.” She then glances between us. “I’m sorry, but we can only allow two family members back.”