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But what way?According to the magazine article, she was barely thirty years old, and her private schooling, with winters in Gstaad and springs outside of Geneva, had assured her enough wealthy contacts for life. Her path and its perks had been easy—a silver spoon and a glass slipper.
“Are women welcome in your club, Mr. Bernardi?”
Her chest rose then fell slowly.
“Very much so.” He dipped his chin.
She’d mentioned it twice now. Maybe empowering women was her motive.
Luca continued, “I welcome all to my club, Ms. Favre. The members and I pride ourselves on acceptance.”
This brought a slight tilt to her head and what Luca hoped was a glimmer in her hazy eyes.
“All? That doesn’t sound too private.”
Her objection was welcomed with fervor, the familiar heat Luca longed for in a challenge. That, and her ‘As you wish’ comment from reception, braided into a perfect rope of feisty and submissive—not that the powerful woman before him would ever admit to wanting to surrender herself to the will of another.
But, contrary to what were probably her beliefs, she had all the signs. Her manners were impeccable. Her attention to detail…perfection. And that softness… The gentle side of her that Luca would bet his portfolio she didn’t think people saw—but he did. He knew exactly the kind of woman who sat in front of him.
“I assure you that the membership fee secures the privacy,” he said with a quick nod.
“And what is the membership fee? If I may ask?”
You may. Such lovely manners.
“Fifty thousand euros initially, plus another fifty thousand a year. On top of that, there are certain benefits that members may or may not choose to acquire. But, essentially, ten million would be my earnings in the first year.”
She smiled curtly. The minimum balance to open most private banks in Switzerland was usually around a million francs. With a promise of more, maybe the risk of taking on what appeared to be a seedy client would dissolve.
“What exactly transpires at your club, Mr. Bernardi?” Her business etiquette remained flawless.
Well, that would depend entirely on which room one would peep into.But there was no reason to beat around the bush.
“Exploration of one’s boundaries, Ms. Favre.” Luca met her stare with heavy eyes.
“Sex. You plan to run a high society sex club.” Her tone was flat, almost bored.
How could she hold his gaze? He was certain she was more a bottom than a top.
“I’m interested in continuing the initial goal of the founder, who provides a safe environment for all genders to escape without worries or hassles. It has been a tradition for years that every member sign a confidentiality agreement. It covers everything done and witnessed behind the closed, or sometimes open”—he tilted his head—“doors of the club.”
Claire Favre appeared to remain unfazed.Is she?
She looked past Luca and he studied the pale, sweet skin exposed from her neck to her chest. From the lack of freckles and spots, it hadn’t seen much sun over the summer. He knew its shade well, the perfect cream that would flush pink with proper stimulation.
Luca lifted his gaze. He would not be caught dreaming about bunching up her skirt and examining the most sensitive areas of her body.Business, he reminded himself.
“Might I ask why you thoughtIwould be the right banker for your secret investment?”
Luca was still very much denying the answer himself. The woman had intrigued more than his financial affairs when he’d seen her in the photo.
“Empowerment, Ms. Favre. We’re in the same business. You want to empower—”
She raised a hand and scoffed. He’d finally rattled her.
“I fail to see how tying up women and spanking them with riding crops is empowering.” Her expression must have been attempting to scold him.
Hilarious.
