by J. J. Sorel
“I hope I’m not barging in on anything.”
“No. Roger’s gone to work.” He smiled. “Let’s have a coffee.”
I sat up at the kitchen island, cupping my chin. “I think I just behaved like a baby.”
Sheldon passed me a cup of coffee. “What happened?”
“I found Blake at home in his office talking with a beautiful busty blonde, and now I’m spitting blood.”
A slow smile grew on his face. In the retelling, I sounded ridiculously melodramatic.
“Did he explain?”
I shook my head. “He just told me he was in the middle of something.”
“He’s mad about you. At the party, last weekend, he spent the whole night either with his arm around your waist or watching you dance.”
I smiled sadly, reflecting on the nicer moments from our night out. “It got very dark and seedy after that.”
“Oh… that sounds yummy.”
I shook my head. “Not like that. I mean literally. These two guys attacked Blake, and he went wild.”
Sheldon’s eyes widened. “Really. That’s so alpha.”
“Trust me, it’s sexier in the telling. At the time, it was terrifying.” I puffed out a breath. It had been one hell of a week.
“He knew them?”
“I think so. He has this childhood connection who’s blackmailing him. He’s really evil and after Blake’s fortune.”
My cell vibrated in my bag. I looked up at Sheldon apologetically. “I might see who that is.”
“I think you should, sweetie.”
It was Blake.
I picked up and walked into the other room.
“Penny. At last. I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I only left your house an hour ago,” I said.
“Can we meet. ASAP. Please.”
His tension came through the phone as I gripped my cell. “Okay.”
“At your place. In an hour?”
The tough side of me that didn’t take crap screamed that I should get an explanation. My emotions, on the other hand, had me capitulating with a wimpy “Okay.”
After I closed call, I looked at Sheldon apologetically.
“Let me guess. Blake?”
“Am I being too forgiving?” I asked.
“You haven’t heard his excuse yet. For all you know, she could be a KGB spy.”
I laughed. “You’re worse than me.”
“That’s why we’re artists,” he said with a giggle.
I hugged him. “Thanks for being here for me. I have to go.”
“I miss having you around.” His mouth turned down.
“There’s just so much going on.” I shook my head. “I’m not even myself anymore.”
“Hey. It’s a new chapter. It sounds pretty exciting. Do what you’re great at. Make art.”
“I have so many sketches from our time away at Raven Abbey. It was Gothic in the true sense of the word.”
“Yum. You must take me there.”
“I will, one day soon. Promise.” I hugged him and left.
* * *
THE SAME TWO BULKY men sat in a car parked near my home. If they were trying to fit into the scenery, it wasn’t working. If anything, it resembled a scene in a movie, only I couldn’t turn it off.
When I entered my house, I found Blake sitting on the couch, his legs crossed, and his arm stretched over the back of the settee. If only I could have edited that earlier encounter in his office, I would have pounced on him. Wearing a cream cashmere pullover, he looked like he should have been on the cover of Vogue. His tongue ran over those lips, and all I wanted to do was sit on his lap and let him fondle my breasts, with his hard cock buried deep inside me.
“You’re not using Patrick to drive you around,” he said.
I plonked my bag down. “I know this is technically your home, but I feel a little invaded with you letting yourself in like this. You wouldn’t let me do that in your house.” I tilted my head.
“Although this is your home, it’s also our home.”
“Who was she?”
“Please sit down, Penny.” He tapped the cushion by his side on the sofa.
I sat with space between us.
“Amelia’s a journalist. She’s staying at my house.”
I glowered at him. “Why?” Before he could answer, I added, “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
He bit his lip and frowned. “I’m sorry. I should’ve. But I didn’t want to speak over the phone.”
“Hello, I’m around the corner.”
He touched my arm, and I pulled it away roughly.
“Don’t try to charm me, mister.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile.
“Why is she staying at your house?” I persisted.
“She’s onto a story that needs to come out. When it does, it will free me from Fox’s clutches.”
“Why does she have to stay with you?” I was more interested in the domestic detail than the cloak-and-dagger stuff.
“Because it’s dangerous for her to be anywhere else.”
“She’s beautiful.” Fighting back tears, I hated how weak I’d become.
“She’s not my type. And… I’m with you.” He stroked my cheek. “I’m very loyal. I don’t cheat.”
“But you’re a sex addict.”
He studied me with those piercing blue eyes. “I was. They weren’t you. You’re my first-ever girlfriend.” He paused. “And I want to spend my life with you.”
I wanted to hold him so badly, but I held my ground. “Why have you stayed away and not contacted me?”
“I don’t want to talk about what’s happening with Amelia over the phone. I’ve been up all night. She’s got enough material to have Fox locked up for life. We just have to find a way to publish it.”
“But why didn’t you come here and tell me? I hadn’t heard from you, which isn’t normal for us.”
He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. I got caught up with Barnes, my PI, and then Amelia turned up and showed me everything she’s obtained on Fox, and it became an all-night affair.”
“All-night affair? Did she sleep with you?”
“How can you think that?”
“You looked really cozy together.” I sulked. Petulance had taken an ugly grip on my spirit.
He stroked my hair. “I love you.”
I looked up. His eyes shimmered with an intense sincerity that was impossible to fake.
I took a deep breath. “I still don’t understand why she needs to stay there.”
“Because it’s the safest place. This story is huge, involving very powerful men. Security guards at a hotel somewhere just won’t do it. I’m talking very powerful men.” His eyebrow lifted.
“You could have come over and alerted me. You owed me that, at least.”
“You’re right. I fucked up.” His turquoise eyes shone with contrition. “I’m new to this boyfriend thing. Will you forgive me?”
I allowed his warm hand to remain on mine.
“What’s her interest in this case?” I asked.
“Her younger sister was trafficked onto the island and, at the age of fourteen, forced to have sex with parties of men. She committed suicide last year and left a note filled with names and details. Amelia, who’s a journalist, has spent the past year gathering sources and information. She’s discovered that Fox is trading under a different name and that the island’s owned by a lord he fraternizes with.”
Despite Blake’s explanation, which more than exonerated him, I still read Amelia as a threat, which left me with a streak of guilt for being so pettishly selfish. “But why can’t she stay somewhere else? She’s so fucking good-looking.”
Blake caressed my cheek. “She’s not a patch on you.”
His lips fused onto mine. The heat from his body made mine melt. His hands slipped under my blouse and unclasped my bra.
“I need you naked,” he said.
How could I refuse? My desire for his devouring ha
nds and body overpowered any niggling jealousy.
I lifted my blouse over my head, and his eyes traveled to my naked chest.
I peeled off my jeans. His eyes left a trail of promises down my body. He removed his trousers, and that bulge pushing against his briefs sent a swelling ache of anticipation between my legs.
“I need to taste you.” His voice was heavy with want.
I rubbed his cock, which grew rock-hard, dwarfing my hand.
His breath roughened as he parted my thighs wide, his eyes smoldering as they traveled from my face to my pussy. He placed his head between my legs, licking me so softly that I winced. The pleasure gripped my muscles, aching arousal swept me away. He entered me with his finger as I surrendered, gasping, in a toe-curling release.
He stood up and wiped his lips. I rolled over. I needed hard sex. I loved the way Blake felt when he was driven by lust.
The first deep thrust caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head.
“I need to really fuck you.” His words were strangled by desire.
I arched my back and gyrated my ass against his belly as he penetrated.
As he moved in and out, his heavy breath moistened my ear, and I saw stars. It was raw, primal addictive sex.
My eyelids fluttered, and my legs trembled. As the burning swell of his impaling dick hit nerve spots, I succumbed to a powerful orgasm that stretched time as intensely as his dick stretched me. Blake’s deep groan filled the room as though he’d given me everything of himself.
Embracing, we basked in the afterglow of blissful surrender.
Blake whispered, “I love you, Penny.”
“I love you, too, Blake.”
51
* * *
BLAKE
AMELIA’S ARTICLE WAS WELL written and highly controversial and therefore potentially litigious. “That’s rather detailed,” I said, leaning back on my chair in my study.
She nodded pensively.
I noticed she wasn’t herself. “Is there something the matter?”
“I think I’m being followed,” she replied.
I sat up. “You were followed here?”
She shook her head. “I lost them. It was after I left my apartment that I noticed something, so I chose another route.”
“Have you spoken to anyone?”
“I interviewed someone connected to Lord Preston, who, being a sworn enemy, seemed eager to expose the lord.”
“Maybe he’s a plant,” I said.
“Perhaps. This is big.”
“How far are you from finishing the story?”
“I’m waiting on a statement from one of my key witnesses, who was lured to the island on the pretense of a modeling job.”
“Is she being protected?” I asked.
“She’s in New York.”
“Then let me suggest that you don’t communicate through email or phone.”
“We’re using courier.”
I nodded. “Where’s the courier delivering it?”
“My work. At the community paper.”
“I’ll arrange a car and driver for you. You’ll have to remain here until the article’s published.”
She studied me. “Your girlfriend won’t mind?”
“She understands.”
At least, I hope she does.
Amelia had already been staying in my guest room for a week.
I glanced at my watch. “I have to go. Is there anything you need?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m good. It should be all over in a day or two at the most.”
“Send me a text if you need anything. I know it feels as though you’re penned in, but it needs to be that way.”
“I understand. And hey, thanks.” She smiled. “If it wasn’t for your kind support, I probably wouldn’t have gotten this far.”
I collected my jacket. A Beretta weighed down the inside pocket. I hated guns, but since the arrival of Fox and after that little tussle with his heavies, I’d decided it was best to carry it. The classic pistol belonged to Sir William, who’d waxed lyrical on its sleek Italian design. I didn’t see the beauty myself. Firearms had brought nothing but grief to humankind.
* * *
THE DARK BAR WAS a perfect meeting place for someone like Fox, in that, just like a vampire, I imagined daylight being his enemy.
“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” he said, clicking to the barman. “Another pint.”
“I’ll have one too,” I said.
He waited for the beer to be delivered and then said, “So what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting? I’m still waiting for what’s mine.”
“You’ll be waiting for a while still.”
His smarmy expression ironed out. “Look, Sinclair. This is no longer a game. I’ve got something of yours.”
“So you keep saying. Those heavies the other night were a classy touch.”
“Your fighting skills have improved since I knocked you around and made you cry like a girl.”
I clenched my fists. “You’ve got a selective memory, Dylan. The last time, it was me who had an imprint of your crooked teeth on my knuckles.”
He smirked back at me.
“I know about that pedophile island. And I know about the cop who you had killed. There’s CCTV footage sitting somewhere safe, should something happen to me.” I paused to study his cold eyes for a reaction. Unsurprisingly, his face remained blank. “Now that wasn’t too bright, was it?” I cocked my head.
“And I know where your pretty artist girl lives. I have instructed a couple of my men, horny little devils that they are, to take her and fuck her senseless and get her to work.”
That gusted cold fear over my spirit. “Along with all the other girls you traffic?”
I thought about Penelope, whose trenchant independence could make her vulnerable. I had to get her out of London.
The next week would be crucial. This cancer—not just for me but for the safety of underage girls as well—had to be removed.
“Two billion, and it all ends here.”
“Oh, so you’ve lowered your price,” I said.
“I’d hate to see a man with such delicate tastes go without.”
“Stop your heavies. Don’t threaten my girlfriend, or else you’ll get nothing.” I had to dangle a carrot before him despite my intention of delivering zero.
“I’ve brought something of yours along today,” he said.
Just as I was about to speak, a figure stepped into the light, his heavily scarred face decrepit and cold eyes bone-chilling.
My brows squeezed. “What are you doing here?”
Fox laughed. “Now, that’s not a nice way to greet your father.”
“He’s not my fucking father. Sir William was my father.”
The vile monster, who I’d once considered my father, sniggered. “You’re my fucking son. I fed you.”
“You fed me nightmares. You attacked my mother. And you’re no fucking father of mine.” I stood up.
“Not so quickly,” he said, taking me by the arm. “You owe me.”
“I owe you nothing.” I shoved him off me.
“I know you killed that fucking priest. The rumors were all over the village. You weren’t convicted out of plain fucking luck. I know the cop that whitewashed that case. His retirement fund’s almost run out. It wouldn’t take much to make him talk.”
“I had nothing to do with that priest.”
His thin lips twisted into an evil grin I recognized well. “You scrub up well. You were always a good-looking boy. Did the lord of Raven Abbey touch you up too?”
Cartilage crunched under my fist. Incited by hatred and revenge for what that bastard did to my mother, I enjoyed it. That punch felt good.
I went to hit him again when chilling steel pricked my neck. I pulled out my pistol and placed my foot over my evil stepfather, who was on the ground, his nose bloodied. Satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere, I turned and directed the pistol at Fox’s chest.
He
dropped the knife.
I spat, “Get out of my fucking life.”
52
* * *
PENELOPE
AS WE DROVE UP the driveway to Raven Abbey, I turned to look at Blake. “I hope you stay long enough to visit your mother. She’ll be sad if you don’t.”
He looked tired. “All in good time. She understands. I speak to her every day. I have some important business to attend to in the city.” He held my hand. “It’s got to be this way for now. A bodyguard’s here to protect you. You must take him with you—just until the article’s released, and Fox is locked up.” He smiled. “I’ll stay tonight, though.”
He jumped out, opened the boot, and removed my luggage.
Although a week at Raven Abbey meant that I could sketch to my heart’s content, I still grappled with withdrawal anxiety.
When we entered Sir William’s former room, it almost felt as though I’d arrived home, in a weird way. That beautiful penthouse suite, with its classical accents, bathed me in delight. But that was with Blake around, kissing every inch of my skin and making love to me as though we were alone in some sensual paradise.
Reality bit hard when Blake introduced me to my bodyguard, who had the adjoining room. Blake had even made me promise not to reveal my whereabouts to Sheldon or Lilly. I pretended I was off to Scotland, which nearly fell apart when Sheldon begged to come along. He had a thing for men in kilts, he’d admitted with a giggle. If only I felt as blithe as that. I found myself suddenly missing those days when I studied shadows for creative reasons, and not out of paranoia.
Blake looked down at his phone. I’ve got to take this.
“Amelia,” he said into his cellphone, walking to the end of the very large room, where I couldn’t hear him.
My jealousy levels were at fever pitch. She was still staying in his guest room. And the fact that he’d be returning to London made my stomach twist in knots.
After finishing the call, he suggested, “Let’s go and have something to eat. The dining room’s lovely at this hour.”
Sulking, I stared down at my feet.