Chapter 14: Taboos

4 November 2025

Bob Edwards sat in his office on the sixth floor at the Bank of London. Compared to the Bank of England, whose historic headquarters were across Threadneedle Street, the BoL was an upstart. Founded in 1946, as England and Europe recovered from the Second World War, the Bank of London focused on community development and strategic lending to make its mark. It had functioned more like an American bank, with its willingness to take risks for the good of its customers and investors. And as a result, it prospered in the post-war era.

Bob’s portfolio consisted primarily of commercial property, infrastructure projects, and emerging technologies. He was known in the office for having a good eye for potential returns on investment, without being greedy or exposing the Bank to undue risk. His success rate had earned him significant latitude to take risks that others at his pay grade would not be allowed to take.

He was also wise enough to keep his darker desires to himself. Too many men in his position had blown their professional opportunities because they couldn’t keep it in their trousers. Bob definitely had those desires, but he never acted upon them. And his superiors appreciated that level of discretion.

Lately, it had been harder for Bob to fight back his yearnings. When Livy went away to university, the townhouse was even emptier. Mary was getting up even earlier, and filling her days outside of the house. She had delegated more of the domestic duties to Gretchen, their housekeeper. Outside of their intersections for his coffee in the morning, dinners which felt more like business meetings, the two of them rarely shared time together before bed.

Bob loved Mary. He admired her discipline and the way she commanded a room. But lately, he felt less like her partner and more like another item on a checklist that she was constantly rushing to complete. So more and more, he spent time with a different version of her in his mind.

He wanted her to stop moving — to simply be with him, and look at him with the raw, undivided attention they’d shared in their twenties. He wanted to feel desired by her again.

But it was even more than that. He wanted her to need him. He wanted her to lust for him. He wanted her to obey.

There it is, Bob, he thought to himself. Wouldn’t it be nice if that sexy woman I love yearned to be on her knees to worship me?

Then there was Olivia. He cared for her with a heaviness that bordered on ache. He saw her shrinking away from the world and felt a desperate urge to reach out and help her, but he lacked the skills. He knew she had been drifting away from him for years, around the time she started secondary school. Psychology was a soft science to Bob, a realm of variables he couldn't isolate. He tried to bridge the gap with logic and stability, but every time he offered a solution, she seemed to drift further into the fog. He was a man who could negotiate multi-million-pound mergers, yet he was terrified of saying the wrong thing to his daughter and perhaps losing what little relationship and affection they still shared.

So, like this, his wife, his mind drifted. When the weight of the distance between them became too much, he dreamed of what he shouldn’t. He could be the centre of her universe. Her everything. He learned there was even a term for it. Daddy Dom.

In these visions, there was no scheduling of intimacy and no psychological fog to navigate. There was only total, unquestioning devotion. Livy adored him again. She was a grown-up and attractive Daddy’s little girl.

It was a vision of a world he shouldn’t desire. As long as he kept it inside his mind, he didn’t have to feel guilt for wanting the forbidden fruit. He had already earned the respect of his peers at work. In his fantasies, he could be the sovereign over the two women he loved.

Having these dreams was so much easier than facing the exhausting reality that he was an anchor for a family which had lost its moorings.

A sharp, rhythmic clicking of heels approached, and shook Bob out of his fantasy. The door didn't just open. His office was suddenly occupied. Virginia Kent had strutted into the room.

"Coffee’s here, and you look like you need it."

Virginia was twenty-six and an intentional disruption to the bank's staid decor. She was a riot of colour in a building of grey suits. Her red hair was a tumble of wild curls that caught the overhead lights, and her face held a playful yet predatory prettiness. Today, she wore a silk blouse in a shade of cream that nearly matched her skin, with several buttons left undone — a calculated oversight that drew the eye directly to the deep, soft curve of her cleavage. Her skirt was a dark, tight-fitting pencil cut that stopped high on her thighs, showing off legs encased in sheer black 15-denier stockings that disappeared just beneath her hem.

"Thank you, Ginny," Bob said, his voice tightening. He forced his eyes to stay on the porcelain cup she placed on his coaster, but as she leaned over, the silk of her blouse draped forward. The view was a deliberate provocation. For nearly three years, she had played this game. Always enough to get his attention, but never so much that she merited being chastised. Like today, when he could see the lacy edge of her bra and the pale, rising heat of her skin, but nothing scandalous or too unseemly.

In the silence of the moment, Bob’s mind betrayed him. The domination fantasies from moments ago surged back, this time about his PA. Only he didn’t see her that way in those dark visions. Here, the clicking of those heels stopped as she moved around the oak desk. That silk rustled as she sank to her knees on the parquet floor, her red curls spilling over his lap as she looked up at him with the vacant, adoring eyes of a creature who had no will except his. He wanted to reach out and push those buttons closed — or tear them away entirely — just to stop her teasing.

“Boss?”

Bob blinked multiple times as he yanked himself back to the here and now.

“Yes, Ginny. You have the files for the week?”

“Of course, boss. Your diary has been populated, and the research reports are in your folder.”

Bob turned his attention to his computer, and confirmed what she had recited. Of course. She never let me down.

His attention was drawn to a meeting set for Thursday morning. “Ginny, what is this entry? Who is Jennifer Thorne?”

She shrugged, which pushed her breasts together for a gravity-defying moment, and then they bounced back down again. Fuck, he thought to himself.

“You want me to push her off on Marcus?” Ginny asked.

He shook his head. “No, I’ll take it. But get me a briefing memo by Wednesday so I can prepare. I see you have his Lordship right after, and I can’t be late for that if I want to avoid getting my arse chewed off by Mr. Vance.”

“I’ll have it for you first thing Wednesday morning.” Ginny turned and headed out, before pausing and looking over her shoulder. “Boss, how is it having Livy home again?”

Bob smiled softly. “It feels like home again.”

Ginny smiled radiantly, and wordlessly exited. Bob was left alone again with his thoughts.