Masked Indulgence: A Billionaire Holiday Romance (Nightclub Sins Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  She nodded, looking at him with sad eyes. “Not what you want, really.”

  He realized she thought he was backing off and reached for her. “Hey, look. It’s almost daylight. As soon as we can, we can go to my hotel for the rest of Christmas—we’ll come back here when things have eased off, go to the police, have this place searched.”

  She leaned into him. “I gotta say, I don’t feel safe.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Em. I promise.”

  Emeli woke at seven a.m., warm and safe in Sasha’s arms. She studied him while he slept; that gorgeous face, all cheekbones and fine angles. His dark lashes on his cheeks as he slept, that long aquiline nose and full mouth. Emeli smiled and kissed him gently. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  He rolled her onto her back, making her chuckle, and covered her body with his. He smoothed the hair away from her face. “Can’t believe I’m waking up with you, pretty girl.”

  Emeli smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “Right back at ya, handsome.”

  Now, in the morning light, the weirdness of the previous night seemed ridiculous. They made love slowly then showered together. Emeli had hesitated before she went downstairs to the kitchen, knowing what she would see.

  Sasha put his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her temple. “Together, okay?”

  They both stared at the wall of the kitchen. “I don’t understand.” Emeli shook her head as if trying to clear a fog. Sasha’s hand tightened slightly on her neck.

  The wall was clean. No bloody writing, nothing. Emeli’s chef’s knives were all in their block. The kitchen was clean.

  “What the actual hell?”

  Emeli looked at him. “You didn’t come down here and clean up?”

  He shook his head, not annoyed by the question. “No, sweetheart, you?”

  “No.”

  They stared at the blank and clean wall for a few moments more. “Did we both have some kind of fever dream?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

  Emeli let her body relax. “Well … it’s not impossible that we did. After all, we’ve both seen that weird figure, right?”

  “Right.” Sasha sighed. “Look, have you ever looked into the history of this place?”

  Emeli shook her head. “I only moved here a couple of years ago and to be honest, I snapped this place up for the coffee house. It was going for a steal—”

  She trailed off as realization dawned then she laughed at Sasha’s expression. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Dumb move.”

  “Human move,” Sasha amended, “After all, who asks their realtor about any ghosts a place might have?” He grinned. “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation.”

  Emeli hugged him. “I would rather cope with some weird, spooky stuff than an actual maniac. Thank God, is what I say. Listen, I’ll go grab my laptop, and while I cook you the best Christmas Day breakfast of your life, you can look up any local lore about the place.”

  “It’s raining,” Sasha told her as she came down from the apartment, laptop under her arm. Emeli pouted.

  “Dammit, no more white Christmas?”

  “Sap.”

  She blew a raspberry at him and handed him the laptop. “Here you go, Grinch. Do some digging.”

  Sasha grinned and opened the laptop. “Anything private on here you don’t want me to see?”

  “Nope. Unless you count the reindeer porn.”

  “Ha ha, funny girl. You love this holiday, right?”

  Emeli busied herself getting breakfast food out of the refrigerator. “I do. I love all the sparkle and the glitter and people being happy, being nice to each other for once.” She cracked some eggs into a bowl. Sasha watched her with a smile creeping across his face.

  “You really are the sweetest thing.”

  She grinned at him. “You just don’t know my wild side yet.”

  “That wasn’t wild last night? Man, now I can’t wait.”

  She waved a spoon at him, chuckling. “Get investigating, dirty boy.”

  A half hour later and they were eating while Sasha told her what he had found. “This place was built at the turn of the century as a saloon bar. Nothing remarkable happened until Christmas Day, 1956. The owner, Alexander Hooper, lived here with his wife, Clementine. By all accounts, he was totally head over heels for her and she for him. They held a small party in the bar on Christmas Eve after which they went back to the apartment above and Alexander stabbed his wife to death. No warning, no reason. The guests at the party said he was in a good mood, that they seemed as in love as ever. Alex then walked into a local police station and handed himself in. The police found Clementine’s body in the bathroom of the apartment. She had been stabbed multiple times in the abdomen and her body was arranged as if she was sleeping. Blood everywhere, smeared on the walls of the kitchen.” He gave Emeli a pointed look. “He’d used every knife in the kitchen on her.”

  Emeli looked sick. “God, that’s horrific.”

  “There’s more. Previous owners or tenants of this place have reported weird noises, apparitions, masked figures appearing and disappearing, blood on the walls. Here’s the good news. No one has ever been harmed. A few people got scared out of their wits, but no deaths or injuries have ever been linked to the incidents.”

  Emeli felt a huge weight lift from her body. “Oh, God, Sash, that is good news.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Now we really can enjoy our Christmas.”

  Outside, the snow was melting, the roads awash with the heavy rain. Sasha and Emeli stood under the porch of the front of the coffee house and watched the gray skies.

  “You know, there’s something beautiful about the decorations all lit up against such a stormy sky,” she said. Sasha grinned at her.

  “Like I said, what a sap.”

  She poked his side. “Listen, I was thinking. There’s an attic I’ve never been up to yet. Maybe there’s some interesting stuff up there, something to do with the Hoopers.”

  “Yeah? Doesn’t it freak you out?”

  She shrugged. “Not so much. Now I’m just curious. Why would Alexander Hooper suddenly just murder his wife? There had to be a reason.”

  Sasha nodded. “Okay, let’s go check it out.”

  Emeli kissed him. “And I just remembered … that loud banging we heard. We never did check out to see if there was any damage to the outside.”

  Sasha looked up at the sky. “I’m game if you are …”

  They raced each other through the torrential rain, darting around the outside of the building. The coffee house stood in its own block. Emeli, quicker than Sasha—though she suspected he was letting her win—gave only the most cursory of glances to the outside of the building but couldn’t see any damage. Rounding the corner back to the main entrance, she gasped and skidded to a stop. Sasha collided with her, laughing and cursing as he grabbed her to stop himself falling. Then he saw what she was staring at.

  “Jesus …”

  Anyone looking at the slab of frozen ice would have seen the same thing. The definite shape of a figure was frozen against the side of the building, the head staring straight in through the window.

  “Man, that’s fucking creepy.”

  Emeli went up to the figure. She couldn’t believe what she saw—the limbs were defined; even the muscles and structure of the figure’s torso were all there. The ice hand was placed on the window and now Emeli, ignoring the fact that she was drenched, went inside and looked into the face of the Iceman.

  Sasha followed her inside and put his hands on her shoulders. Emeli grabbed his hand. “Sasha …”

  The face of the Iceman was exactly the same as the stranger who had been watching Emeli for days, and the expression on his face was one of murderous rage.

  Emeli closed her eyes and listened to Sasha chopping the rest of the Iceman into pieces. She knew it was ridiculous, but she had never been as afraid as looking into that cold face.
It had everything that was mean, spiteful, hateful ...

  “I feel like its eyes are following me around the room,” she had said, waiting for Sasha to laugh it off but instead, in a dead, flat voice, he had said.

  “That’s the thing, Ems … it is following you.”

  That had terrified her, and Sasha had berated himself for blurting out the truth like that. He’d offered to get rid of the thing, and she’d agreed. Now, she lay on her bed, waiting for him.

  He came back in, his clothes soaking wet from the rain and ice. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom. “It’s gone, babe.”

  “Thank you.” She sat up suddenly and reached for her laptop. She typed “Hooper House, iceman” into the search engine. Sasha was toweling his hair dry, watching her face as she looked at the search results. She shook her head.

  “Nope, nothing about a weird iceman.” She sighed and pushed the computer away. Sasha stripped his sweater off, then his jeans.

  Emeli half-smiled at him. “Anyone would think this is my plan to keep you naked all Christmas.”

  Sasha grinned and climbed onto the bed with her, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m okay with that, gorgeous girl.”

  Soon they were naked, and Sasha was sliding his enormous cock into her swollen and ready cunt. Emeli shivered with desire and moaned as he began to move in and out of her, not able to tear her eyes away from the lust in his eyes-- the lust and the love—as they fucked. Sasha was driving himself into her deeper and harder than ever before, pressing her knees up to her chest so he could sink into her balls deep. His hands pinned hers to the bed as he drove her towards orgasm, slamming his hips harder and harder and harder …

  She woke and it was dark outside. The bed next to her was empty. She sat up. “Sash?”

  “Up here.”

  She looked upward to where the door to the attic was open. Sasha had pulled down the stairs from the entrance in the corner of her bedroom. Emeli slid out of bed and tugged her robe on. She climbed carefully up into the attic space and gasped. “Wow.”

  The room was lit by standard lamps and dressed as an old-style living room— a fifties style living room. Emeli gave a disbelieving laugh. Sasha stood at the mantel of a fireplace, grinning at her. “Can you believe this?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t.”

  Sasha’s smile faded, and he nodded towards a photo frame. “Then you’re really not going to believe this.”

  She walked over to him, and he handed her the frame. Even before she saw the faces of the two people in the photo, she knew. The tall, handsome man, with the short dark hair, green eyes, and long aquiline nose; the woman, soft curves and mahogany hair, dark hazel eyes. “Oh, God, Sasha.”

  “I know.”

  Emeli looked around at the place and shivered. “Sasha, let’s go down. I don’t like this.”

  “In a minute. There’s a box here I haven’t looked in.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder as he opened it. There was a mask. White. Blank. Expressionless.

  “Is this what you saw on that figure?”

  She nodded, and he sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Put it away, Sasha. We don’t need to worry about it.”

  He closed the box. “You’re right. But let’s make this permanent—let’s burn the damn thing.”

  Emeli felt relief wash over her and she nodded. “Good idea.”

  “Is it childish to believe that once we do this all the freaky stuff will stop?”

  Sasha stood and kissed her. “Not at all.”

  They were in the kitchen, and now Emeli cranked up one of the gas burners. Sasha held the mask to it and then dropped it into a pan Emeli had given him. Together they watched it burn, the old paper crumbling and turning to ash.

  Sasha hugged her. “Listen … why don’t we go grab some clothes and get out of here for the rest of Christmas? If you don’t want to come back here at all; well, we can do that too. I’ve always wanted to buy some property here.”

  Emeli nodded gratefully. “I’d like that.”

  Sasha’s luxurious hotel suite was in one of the high-end hotels in Seattle. The view over the city alone made Emeli gasp. Sasha grinned at her. “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet, gorgeous.”

  In the large bathroom, he’d filled the tub and lit some candles. “I thought a relaxing soak, a good meal, maybe some drinks, then a night of seriously hard fucking.”

  He said this with such a thoughtful look on his face that Emeli burst out laughing.

  He was right; the soak in the tub was completely relaxing, so much so that they made love in the water, Sasha rubbing oil into her skin, her breasts, her belly as she rode him. God, would she ever get tired of fucking this glorious man?

  They ordered room service but decided to stay in the room rather than go for drinks. Instead, they made love again and again until at last they were exhausted and sated.

  Sasha stroked her cheek as she began to fall asleep. “I love you, Emeli Tuscany.”

  “I love you too, Alexander …”

  Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. Why the hell had she said that? Sasha just looked amused.

  “You’ve obviously Googled me. Sasha is a shortened form of Alexander. That’s all that meant, Em. Don’t worry.”

  Emeli felt uneasy, but Sasha kissed her. “Seriously, sweetheart, don’t worry about it. Just sleep. I love you.”

  Her eyes closed but as she gave into sleep, her chest had a weight in it, a fear.

  She woke at three a.m. to find the bed empty. She sat up. “Sasha?” No answer. She got out of bed and searched the hotel room. Sasha was nowhere to be found. Emeli picked up the phone to call reception, but all she got was a dial tone.

  Fear started to build inside her. She found her robe and pulled it on, and tried to open the door to the room. It was locked. She felt terror now. What the hell is going on?

  “My darling.”

  She whirled around. Sasha was standing full dressed behind her—wearing the mask that they had burned less than twelve hours previously.

  He advanced on her and Emeli, terrified, backed up. “Sasha? What are you doing? Sasha, please …”

  “I’m not Sasha anymore, my darling,” he said, and he drew a knife from behind his back and plunged it into Emeli’s belly. She cried out in agony, but he kept viciously stabbing her over and over until struggling for breath, for life, she slumped to the ground.

  “Why?” she said softly. “Why?”

  The masked Sasha knelt beside her and ran forefinger down her face. “Because I loved you, my darling Clementine, I loved you …”

  He raised the knife and brought it down with such force he severed Emeli’s spine in two. Her last living thought was of Sasha. “How I loved you, my darling, my wonderful Sasha …”

  “And … cut! Wonderful stuff, you two, really terrifying.” The director applauded the two actors as the man helped the woman, drenched in red corn syrup, to her feet. They laughed and took a bow as the cast and crew joined in the applause.

  The actor and actress went back to her trailer. “Wanna join me in the shower?”

  “You know I do.”

  Everyone on set knew they were fucking, knew they were crazy about each other. This movie had been written especially for them once the news of their relationship had broken. The press was loving it—two of the most gorgeous, talented stars in the movie industry madly in love.

  “If only they knew,” the woman said now as he thrust his diamond-hard cock into her ready cunt. She moaned. “God, you are delicious.”

  He grinned. “As are you, my darling. And now that shooting’s done, we can enjoy the holidays together, alone.”

  “Alone and naked,” she replied with a grin that made his hips slam harder, driving himself into her over and over. He came with a groan, and she tightened her legs around him, wanting to hold all of his seed inside her.

  Afterward, they dressed slowly. She grinned as she saw the mask on the table. “I do so love it when you put that on
,” she said. “There’s something about that little frisson of terror that makes me so horny.”

  He gave a little growl and grabbed her to kiss her lips. “I love you, you dirty girl.”

  “As I you.” She glanced out of the window. “It’s snowing again.”

  “So it is.” He tipped her face up to kiss her deeply and tenderly. “You and me forever.”

  “You betcha. Merry Christmas, Alex.”

  “Merry Christmas, Clem …”

  The End.

  Junkyard Bettie Book 7

  On the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, Christmas 1973, serial killer Brokedown Bodie Johnson washes the blood of his latest victim from his hands. On the usually deserted plains, he finds a junkyard and is drawn to the small shack there. Inside he finds what looks like a 1950’s Christmas grotto and a beautiful woman ready to make all his Christmas dreams come true. But is Junkyard Bettie everything she says she is, or does she hide a secret that could change Brokedown’s life forever?

  Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah, 1973

  His bare feet rasped against the soil, the stones. The water lapped closer and closer, an inch now from his skin. Somewhere, somewhere else, the water would be blue or green or even clear, but here, it was gray. Solid, as if nothing could penetrate it, as if a million ball-bearings were suspended in it. The sky didn’t help, itself a block of misery-blue. They reflected back at each other with a mutual loathing. The water touched his feet, and as it washed back, he watched the crimson swirl into it and be consumed by it. Absolution.

  He looked up, squinting over to the far side of the salt flats. In the dip between the small outcrops of hills, he could see something, machinery, cars, and a lot of some kind. He snorted back a wad of phlegm, shot it out into the muddy pool. He thought he could see movement over there. Huh. Maybe worth his time investigating. He was gonna need a new car anyways.

  Brokedown Bodie Johnson walked back to the car he’d stolen from the Salton Sea. A week and a whole state away. Between then and now, there’d been deserted trailers and empty, cockroach motels. This country had plenty of places someone like him could remain undetected forever. He reached into the car and plucked a lady’s scarf from the passenger seat, shoving it into his jeans. Wouldn’t do for anyone to see it and get suspicious. He’d been so careful up to now.