by Zara Chase
“No wonder you were so against Flavia using,” Jodie said softly, feeling great sympathy for Ty. She might resent her pushy parents forcing her into a direction she didn’t want to take, but at least she wasn’t left to fend for herself when she was still a kid. The expensive boarding schools she was dumped in saw to her creature comforts and she learned not to mind that she felt like an inconvenience to her high-flying folks.
“Luckily for me, a career advisor in high school took me seriously when I said I wanted to become a chef and pointed me in the right direction to develop my talent. I got lucky again in that I was sent to work under an up-and-coming chef no one had heard of at the time. Everyone knows his name now, of course. It was great learning curve for me and an even more impressive boast on my résumé, and that,” he said, running strands of her hair repeatedly through his fingers, “is how I got started.”
“You didn’t study at college?”
“Nah, no money for college. Besides, the best training is to be found at the sharp end, not in a classroom.”
“Well, it certainly worked for you.” Jodie stifled a yawn. “Damn, I don’t want to sleep yet. I like talking to you.”
“Yeah, but you’re beat.” He kissed her brow and pulled the covers up over them both. “We could both use some rest. Good night, babe.”
“Aw, I thought perhaps we could—”
“I’m not a complete animal. You need recovery time. Now do as your boss tells you or there will be consequences.”
“Hmm.” She rolled onto her side, brought her knees up, and snuggled against his hard body. “I like your consequences.”
She heard the smile in his voice as he told her there was no hope for her. After that, she heard nothing at all.
Jodie hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour, she was absolutely sure of that, when the enticing smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee woke her. Her stomach growled. She was starving, but why was someone taunting her with food in the middle of the night?
When she opened her eyes and saw sun coming through the drapes where they hadn’t gotten around to closing them, she figured that she must have slept after all. She peered at the clock. Nine in the morning? No way! She reached over to Ty but found his side of the bed empty, the sheets cold. Great! She’d been hoping he’d wake her in the time-honored fashion. Instead he’d done a runner.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, grinning as he walked into the bedroom, wearing only a pair of cutoff denim shorts and bearing a loaded tray. She wasn’t sure if it was the sight of Ty or the smell of the food that got her taste buds revving. Hungry as she was, her money was still on the former.
“Morning,” she replied, sitting up and pushing her hair away from her face. “You should have woken me and I would have helped with breakfast.”
“Not a chance. I wanted to spoil you.”
He put the tray on a side table and leaned over to kiss her. A proper kiss that required their tongues to perform the tango and her libido to go off the scale. How did he do that to her when he wasn’t even touching her with his hands?
“You told us on the first day that was the only time you’d cook for us.”
He winked at her. “I won’t tell the others if you don’t.” He sat beside her, poured her coffee and handed her a plate heaped with goodies. “Come on now, eat up. We have a busy day ahead of us, and I need you to be at the top of your game.”
They had been avoiding the subject of that day’s work, but now that he’d broached it, it became the elephant in the room, creating an atmosphere between them.
“Yes, Sir.” Jodie actually groaned as she took a bite of sinfully delicious eggs benedict. She’d give up her firstborn if she could make hollandaise sauce that good. “God, Ty, that’s almost better than sex.”
He chuckled. “Hell, I must be doing something wrong then.”
“Not a thing. A man who can cook like a god and knows his way around a woman’s body. Don’t find many of those about.”
“You’d best hang on to me then.”
Why did he keep saying things like that? “I’ll hang a ‘Spoken For’ sign around your neck,” she quipped, unsure how else to handle the situation.
“Or I could put a collar around yours,” he suggested, sounding deadly serious.
All the other girls who lived at Hadleigh’s wore their collars all the time, proud of the fact that they were the property of their Masters and wanting the whole world to know it.
“What are you suggesting?” she asked, holding her breath.
Before he could answer, his cell phone rang. He checked the display, swore, and took the call. She could tell from his end of the conversation that it was something to do with the delivery of supplies for that evening’s party.
“Christ,” he said, hanging up and scowling. “They couldn’t arrange a piss up in a brewery. I’ll have to go down and sort it.”
“I’ll hit the shower and come and help.”
“No need. We don’t need to make a start quite yet.” His distraction over the supplies gave way to a lopsided smile. “You hang out here, and by the time I get back I dare say you’ll have thought of a way to wish me a proper good morning.”
With that, he winked at her and disappeared.
Jodie wandered into the bathroom, confused by the mixed messages he kept sending her. He knew she had a job and responsibilities elsewhere. Even if he wanted her to stay—and he hadn’t actually said that he did—she couldn’t just quit her job and move in here.
Could she?
Jodie, the most independently-minded woman she knew, suddenly found the idea of domesticity strangely compelling.
“Don’t get carried away,” she chided as she stepped into the shower.
* * * *
Ty sorted the mix-up with the delivery and took the stairs back up to his rooms three at a time, anxious to have at Jodie. There was an hour yet before they needed to start prepping for the party. They could do a lot in an hour. He wondered if she’d taken him at his word and used her imagination to wow him. She knew where he kept all his toys. All the sexy outfits he liked her to wear for him. He opened the door to his sitting room, still submerged in deep erotic thought, and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.
“Hey,” Jodie said, sending him a come-hither smile. “What took you so long?”
“Holy shit!” he breathed.
Jodie had found a studded collar, which she’d fastened around her neck. She wore a PVC dress that barely covered her backside and absolutely nothing else, apart from clamps on her nipples which poked through holes in the dress and that she’d attached to the collar.
And handcuffs.
“Like what you see, Sir?”
He moistened his lips. “Baby, I more than like.”
And he set about proving it to her.
An hour later they were in the kitchen, prepping for the party, potential tension eradicated by the hard fucking they’d just indulged in and the whipping Ty had given Jodie’s ass. It was the first time he’d used a flogger on her, and, unsurprisingly, she’d taken to it like a pro. She kept sending him sexy glances from beneath lowered lashes as she stood on the other side of the work surface to him and they jointly chopped and pared ingredients. At his request, she was wearing no underwear beneath her skimpy skirt and top, covered only by her chef’s apron, and the thought of her all but naked in his kitchen already had him painfully hard again.
“Keep looking at me like that, darlin’,” he said gruffly, “and that carrot ain’t the only thing that’ll have the hell grated out of it on this surface.”
“Promises, promises, Chef,” she said, pinching his buttock as she walked past him to get to the fridge.
“Damn it, woman, we need to concentrate here!”
“Far be it from me to argue with you, Sir, but you’re the one who’s talking off topic.”
With her standing behind him, rummaging in the fridge, Ty couldn’t let her get away with talking back to him. He growled,
turned around, and buried his face in her neck while his hand drifted beneath her skirt and fondled her snatch.
“You just wait until later. I have some crazy punishments lined up for you.”
“Aw, must I wait?” She produced a full inventory of pouts and accusatory looks. “You’ve brought out the monster in me and it’s your responsibility to keep it alive and well.”
He laughed, patted her backside, and reluctantly withdrew his hand. “Count on it,” he replied, going to the sink to wash his hands before returning to the food.
They worked well as a team, given the freedom to openly flirt since they were alone in the kitchen. By early evening, they stood back and admired their handiwork.
“You done good,” Ty said, kissing her neck. “First class work.”
“I just follow orders,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “You’re the artist.”
“Hey, looking good,” Leo said, coming into the kitchen and admiring the cold dishes waiting to be taken into the restaurant. The hot food would be served once the party was under way.
Darcy and Sabine were acting as waitresses that night and helped Ty and Jodie to carry the cold food through to the long table covered with a starched white cloth that had been set up along one wall. Ty knew precisely where he wanted each dish to be placed in order to make the presentation show to its best advantage. Jodie, Darcy, and Sabine followed his instructions, moving stuff around until Ty eventually declared himself satisfied. There was a pile of plates at one end, as well as silverware and napkins. Flower arrangements and candles adorned the tables that had been pushed to the sides of the room so the partygoers could mingle in the space created. A bar had been set up in one corner, and one of the regular bartenders from Hadleigh’s was polishing glasses in readiness for the influx.
“Game on,” Leo said, poking his head around the kitchen door a short time later. “Padron’s here. He wants a word.”
Ty wasn’t big on having strangers invading his kitchen, but technically speaking, this was Padron’s kitchen. He owned the entire building, leasing it to Leo, and was a charming law unto himself.
“Ty,” he said, striding in, hand outstretched. “I am so very grateful that you agreed to do this favor for me. I know it cannot have been an easy decision for you to make.”
Like I had any real choice. “No sweat.”
“I want you to know that just because I might be forced to do business with Belikov, nothing has changed. If he steps one foot out of line in Nevella, then he will face the full force of our law. But, as things stand, if I don’t take his money, then others are lining up to do so.”
“I understand.” And, having had a chance to calm down, he did. Business was business, and men like Belikov had bought their way into respectability. Now that he had established his wealth, no one bothered to ask too many questions about where it had come from.
“Good.” Padron, a good six inches shorter than Ty, slapped his shoulder. “It looks spectacular in the restaurant. I knew I could rely upon you.” His eyes alighted upon Jodie. “Will you introduce me?”
Ty did so. Jodie shook Padron’s hand and fell into conversation with him in flawless-sounding Spanish.
“Beautiful, talented, and a linguist,” Padron said to Ty, reverting to English. “You are a fortunate man.”
The restaurant soon filled up with Padron’s guests. Jodie, between tasks in the kitchen, stood at the vision panel in the swing door—a one-way mirror like those found in interrogation rooms—watching them.
“Which one is Belikov?” she asked Ty when he came up behind her.
“Over there. The tall man with the salt-and-pepper hair wearing the three-thousand-dollar suit,” he said, disgust in his tone.
“I see.”
They returned to their tasks, stretched because there were more guests than they’d been told to expect. Fortunately Ty had anticipated that problem and they did have enough food prepared. It was simply a case of upping the pace and getting it all cooked. Darcy and Sabine were struggling to keep up with demand, and so Jodie started taking plates out into the restaurant herself as soon as they were ready. Ty watched her through the vision panel in her short black skirt, managing a mirthless chuckle that overcame the maelstrom of anger he felt at being obliged to watch Belikov giving it large in his restaurant, wondering what the guests would think if they knew his trainee chef still wasn’t wearing any panties.
But she was wearing a pair of heeled shoes that showed off her endlessly long legs, especially since her skirt was so short. From the glances being cast her way, he wasn’t the only one to notice. What the fuck…Ty scratched his head. When had she put those on, and more to the point, why? Who was she trying to impress? She’d removed her chef’s hat as well, and her hair, although tied back in a ponytail, fell over one shoulder in a sleek wave. Shit, Padron was introducing her to Belikov and had left her alone with him. Ty balled his fists, wondering what the hell she thought she was playing at. He’d warned her. On the point of going out there and hauling her back to the safety of his kitchen, he was stopped in his tracks by the appearance of Belikov’s minder.
“What the fuck’s he doing here?” he wondered aloud.
The newcomer and Belikov fell into conversation and Jodie lingered near them, straightening up plates on the buffet table that didn’t look to Ty as though they needed straightening. Then the minder left again and Belikov resumed talking to Jodie in an animated fashion. What the fuck…
“Who’s the man who came in to see Belikov, then left again?” she asked when she returned to the kitchen.
“His minder, I guess. Men like Belikov never leave home without one.” Ty pulled her against him. “What did Belikov say to you?”
“Oh, nothing much. Padron introduced us, so I couldn’t avoid speaking to him. He just complimented me on the food, that’s all.”
Ty set his jaw in a rigid line, wondering why he’d do that when Ty hadn’t seen him eat anything. “I’ll just bet he did.”
“Who’s Vasin?”
“Vasin!” Ty’s body jerked with anger. “Where did you hear that name?”
“I thought heard Belikov’s minder mention him.”
“Vasin is a really bad person. He’s Belikov’s right-hand man. If Belikov ordered Flavia’s murder, then Vasin would have carried it out.”
Chapter Twelve
Jodie was ready to drop with exhaustion at the end of the evening. Even Ty looked drawn and tired.
“You okay, babe?” He sent her a quizzical look as they cleaned the kitchen with the help of Sabine and Darcy. “You seem preoccupied.”
“Just tired.” She placed her hands on the small of her back and stretched into them. “It’s been a long day.”
“You shouldn’t let him work you so hard,” Darcy said, grinning. “He can be a real slave driver when he gets in his kitchen.”
“Not only in his kitchen,” Jodie said, making Darcy and Sabine laugh and Ty scowl.
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your hotel,” he said. “You need to be there in the morning because the others will be back.”
She slanted him a flirtatious glance. “Can’t have you accused of favoritism, can we, Sir.”
His eyes glowed with an unholy light. “Someone’s asking for a spanking.”
“Oh, anyone I know?”
They waved good-bye and thanks to Darcy and Sabine. Then Ty slid an arm around her waist as they walked out into the cool night air. “I hate all this sneaking about as much as you do,” he said, “but it won’t be forever.”
There he went again with his innuendoes. “Let’s hope not,” Jodie replied enigmatically, resting her head on his shoulder and stifling a yawn.
He delivered her to the steps of her hotel, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her long and deep. Then, with a resigned sigh he tapped her backside and pushed her toward the door.
“Get out of here before I forget why we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Good night, Sir.”
“Night, darlin’. Sleep well and dream of me.”
“Count on it,” she replied, waving over her shoulder before disappearing inside.
Jodie was actually glad that she would be sleeping alone, even though she already missed the solidity of Ty’s reassuring presence. Not that she anticipated getting much sleep, even though she was exhausted. Instead she needed to think about what she’d learned at the party, the invitation she’d received and decide what to do about it. Ty appeared to know she was preoccupied, and if she’d spent the night with him, he would have wormed it out of her and then forbidden her to do anything about it.
She ought to have told Ty that one of the languages she had a working knowledge of was Russian, she thought as she brushed her teeth. But, in her own defense, he hadn’t actually asked. She’d understood enough of the conversation between Belikov and his minder that she’d deliberately eavesdropped on to have some idea what had caused the minder to come barging in. The two men had conducted a short, angry exchange in a hushed whisper, but the moment the minder left, Belikov again oozed charm as he issued an invitation to Jodie—an invitation she knew she would take up but couldn’t possibly discuss with Ty.
In his determination to protect her, he’d forbid her to go. She might take orders from him when he was in Dom mode, but apart from that she was fiercely independent. This opportunity might well shed some light on what had happened to Flavia, and why. There was no danger—well, not much—because she’d been invited. But if Ty went barging in there, all guns blazing, it could prove disastrous.
He lacked objectivity when it came to Flavia but would never know closure until he found justice for her. If there was an outside chance that Jodie could find some answers that would lead to that justice, then Jodie owed it to him to give it her best shot. After all he’d done for her, all the things he’d taught her about her body and its needs, it was the very least she could do for the man she’d fallen so desperately in love with.