The corset fastened in the back with a series of hooks and eyes. Simone stretched it around the front of Jade’s torso; Jade’s hands held the corset to her abdomen while Simone fastened each hook and eye running from between her shoulder blades to the base of her spine. Her hair whispered over her shoulder as she bent her head, but Simone didn’t miss the glance she flicked the mirror. The corset didn’t cover her breasts. It didn’t even provide support. It was intended only to emphasize the curve of a woman’s waist, and to draw attention to what was left uncovered both above and below.
Ryan hadn’t moved, but the hints of a flush stood high in his cheekbones as he studied his mistress, his gaze moving slowly from her lips to her throat to her bare breasts, the corset, the expanse of skin between the end of the corset and the top edge of the silk panties, then down the length of her legs to her feet in heels. Jade’s breath came in short, quick inhales and exhales, although Simone couldn’t tell whether this was from Ryan’s gaze on her body, or the constricted breathing from the corset.
“What do you think?”
The question was directed at her, not Jade. Her mouth had gone dry, so Simone swallowed, then said, “The corset fits perfectly, sir.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Flat. A tone that said Don’t play games with me.
Simone stretched out her finger and ran the tip down the line of hooks and eyes mirroring Jade’s spine until her finger came to rest between the dimples on either side of Jade’s tailbone. “She’s exquisite.”
“She certainly is.” A small smile danced around Ryan’s mouth as he spoke, and Simone couldn’t help feeling that, against her will, she had been drawn into something she’d intended to avoid.
“Help her put the robe back on.”
Simone crouched, gathered the fabric in her hands, and slid it over Jade’s waiting arms. Without being told, she stood between Jade and the mirror and fastened the robe at her waist. Whether from long experience as a fashion model or the submissive undertones simmering in the room, Jade made no move to help her. When the belt was arranged to suit her, Simone stepped aside to give Ryan a clear view.
“Definitely keep the heels.”
To Simone’s experienced eye, there never really had been any question of whether or not to keep the heels. Even without the corset the outfit simply wasn’t one to be worn barefoot. Bare feet were for the soft cottons of her sleep T line, for wrapping up in a fluffy chenille robe and sitting in a chaise on the deck of a house in the Hamptons, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.
The image bloomed in her mind the way the sun would burnish the ocean in a dozen different shades of orange and pink and yellow. She could smell the coffee, feel the chenille against her naked skin, a hard chest at her back and strong arms wrapped around her.
Ryan’s arms.
She looked at him. He looked at her, and while she didn’t know what he was thinking about, she would bet her LLC that he wasn’t imagining a romantic interlude with her at a beach house. An unfamiliar sensation bloomed alongside the slow, heated arousal she was fighting to keep hidden. The sensation was regret, but not the regret of decisions made, but the longing for something she’d denied herself. The odds of Ryan marrying or making a life with Jade were slim to none, but they were better than the odds of her having even a single weekend with him.
Ryan stood, and with two slow steps stood next to Simone. He tugged free the robe’s intricate knot, revealing Jade’s peaked nipples and flat belly. “Show me how to tie it.”
Simone couldn’t breathe. Working from muscle memory she demonstrated the folds and knots. Ryan opened the robe one last time, then tied it perfectly on the first try. He looked at her, ostensibly for confirmation, but the heat in his eyes turned a simple check-in for understanding into something she wasn’t supposed to share with him.
She took a step back, then nodded. She would provide Ryan a service, and keep him firmly in the client category. Ryan’s real business, the thing he took seriously, wasn’t standing in front of him. It was in the spreadsheets and the analyst calls and derivatives and loopholes and margins. Her business was merely his pleasure and she would do well to remember that.
“I believe the showroom manager has your clothes collected for you, Madame,” she said.
“Go get dressed,” Ryan said to Jade.
“We’re going to lunch, right?” Jade threw over her shoulder as she sailed toward the door.
Ryan’s expression didn’t change, but Simone saw the muscle leap in his jaw. “Yes, we’re going to lunch.” The door closed behind Jade, and he turned his heavy-lidded gaze on Simone. “When can you have the alterations finished?”
“That depends on how quickly you need them, sir.”
“I’d like to have them by close of business tomorrow. I will, of course, pay for the rush order.”
Simone mentally reviewed her production schedule. If she pulled Estelle off the collection she was putting together to pitch to Barney’s, the alterations would be done perfectly the first time. “Of course, sir. I’ll put my best seamstress to work on it first thing in the morning.”
He shook his head “No. I want you to do it.”
Simone felt her eyebrows lift at the imperious command. “It is impossible—” she began.