by Flora Dain
I’ll do it later.
Left alone I explore. The suite’s huge, the furniture elegant. The walls are covered with antique mirrors and works of art. The bedroom seems vast, the windows veiled in floating gauze. It has its own bathroom tiled with marble.
I find a separate dressing room with my clothes already stowed neatly on a rail.
On another rail hang the costumes. I flip through them, heart sinking.
Two or three elegant, full-length satin gowns look modest enough at first glance, but the necklines plunge to the waist and the slim, clinging skirts are slit to the hip. Near them a leather harness sports a jeweled slave collar. The same hanger holds a sleep mask and a vicious-looking leather riding crop.
At the end of the rail is an assortment of flimsy lace-edged lingerie, including a peekaboo bra and half a dozen thongs, designer labels still attached.
Beyond them are three lace-trimmed satin corsets, complete with suspenders, and below, in polished mahogany racks, expensive-looking shoes in matching colors, some glittering with brilliants.
In spite of myself I feel a quiver of excitement. I touch the scarlet lace trim on one of the corsets. It’s made of silk and is whisper-soft.
These are no shoddy stage costumes. They’re the real thing, deluxe designer. A small fortune’s been spent here.
But why the move? Has Ben dropped a hint that I’m unhappy here? Does Mel want the room free so she can spend some quality time with him? She had only to ask…
A fond smile dies on my lips as a dreadful thought occurs to me.
It’s an apology.
Cade Fitzlean is making up for my humiliation in his office with an upgrade. He’ll have gone by now. Soon he’ll be high over the Atlantic on his way back to the States. He probably gave the order before he left.
How crass.
For a full second I feel a mix of shame, fury and deep, biting resentment. Then I take a deep breath.
I’ve only myself to blame. I’m here to work, not to party. I’ve got a job to do and it’s high time I got on with it.
Angrily I pluck a corset in scarlet satin off the rail and hold it up in the mirror.
It glows like flame against my skin. It looks distinctly wicked.
I feel a delicious, naughty thrill. Maybe I’ll just try it on…
Some minutes later, showered, perfumed and made-up to perfection, I step into the corset, adjust the thigh-high black stockings and ease a saucy matching garter into place.
In the mirror I see a seductive fairy queen in sexy satin, breasts swelling against the scarlet lace ruffle, long legs elegant in sleek stockings, ending in tall scarlet heels.
Wow. I can do this…
At that moment my phone buzzes. I rummage for it in the untidy heap of clothes on the floor. The name on the caller display makes my heart leap. “Dad? How lovely—”
His voice is just what I need but as he talks on, my heart plummets. Oh no. Slowly I wander into the vast bedroom. I lean against the ornate gilt dressing table, legs straight out before me and take a deep breath. “So how long’s this been going on? Yes, of course I’ll talk to her. Janice? Are you okay? Dad said you’ve—”
I break off for a moment as my stepmother’s familiar voice trills in my ear. From time to time I break in and try to sound patient. “No, we’re staying in a secret location… It’s a secret job. I’m not allowed to talk about it. It’s not a holiday. It’s for work… I am doing a real job. News is a different section—”
Her voice grows shrill and she cuts the call. Our old battle’s reached new stress levels.
Why now? With a sigh I dial Ben’s messaging service. “Ben—it’s Tunis. I don’t think I can do this—”
I freeze.
In the mirror opposite, a man is watching me.
Slowly I lower the phone. I wait for the tiny hairs prickling along the backs of my legs to lie down again before I spin around.
Cade Fitzlean is in my room. He’s leaning on the frame of a doorway, elegant and stunningly handsome in black tie, tux and a dazzling white shirt.
I’ve no idea how long he’s been there. I’d no idea there was even a door there.
“Quitting so soon, Miss Vale? Surely not.”
My mouth feels dry. When I finally speak, I sound hoarse. “I thought you’d gone. What are you doing in here?”
He walks a little way into the room, completely at ease. Clearly in command. “I changed my mind about going. I had you moved up to the suite next to mine. I thought it would be more convenient for us both.”
“More convenient?”
“For our little arrangement. You asked me to take you in hand.”
I stare at him. “But…I thought you turned me down.”
The shame of it still burns in my face.
He walks up close and runs a finger along the lace ruffle, following the swell of my breasts all the way down into my cleavage. His touch sparks tiny flames along my skin that tingle all through me.
He holds me with his eyes, his classic features composed and impassive, his chiseled mouth a work of art all by itself.
“Did I say that? I said your request might be thought offensive. If I’d asked it of you, you’d have gone ballistic.”
I manage a rueful smile. “You’re right. I would. I’m truly sorry.”
“There are complicated reasons why I should turn you down. That was one of them. But there also complicated reasons which make your request…irresistible.”
His intense look and the low, sensual note in his voice are doing strange things to me. I stand rooted to the spot like a rabbit in headlights.
With infinite care, like I’m some rare and exquisite object, he leans down and touches his lips to mine. It’s barely a kiss, just the slightest brush of skin on skin, but for an instant the world falls away.
As he straightens up, I’m in a different universe, full of sudden doubts and nameless desires and they’re about to collide.
Next second, they do collide.
His eyes narrow. “But I must warn you there are certain…conditions.”
Chapter Three
Like leaves whirling in the wind, my thoughts are all confusion. It takes me a moment to regain control.
Cade Fitzlean just kissed me.
Dimly I realize he’s said something. “Conditions?”
“I’m guessing it took courage to ask me to do this. It’s something women almost never admit.”
His angelic features split into a grin and now I see something new—the wicked glint of a demon.
All at once I’m treading water. “I wish I’d kept quiet.”
His jaw stiffens. “So do I, but it’s too late now. I still have problems with it. That’s why there are conditions. One, I’ll take you in hand for a week. I can’t escape my commitments entirely—nor can you, I imagine. Nera’s taster training takes an hour a day for just three days. But if you work with me, you’ll get two sessions daily—one in the daytime and the other at night. All week.”
“Two a day for a whole week? That sounds an awful lot. Are you sure—” I break off as he holds up his hand.
At the same time, excitement flares deep down. Yes, yes…
He’s looking stern, his expression veiled. Mine is all quickening breath, parted lips and glowing cheeks. He’s noticed.
“You need more than three hours to get anywhere with this.” His eyes narrow. “And given your history, I think you should try something more intense than just a taster.”
Wicked, forbidden thoughts race through my mind then a forest of questions. Can I do this? Will I freak?
Aloud I try to sound confident. “That’s wonderful—”
“Let me finish. I’ll work with you for a week on one condition—that you put yourself entirely at my disposal for the whole of the next. In other words, you agree to become my property.”
My jaw drops. “Your…property? Are you kidding?”
“About property, Miss Vale? Never. Far too valuable.” He looks amused b
ut his eyes stay watchful. “You’ll get routine training for seven days then you’ll become my full-time sub for the next seven. Mine to do with as I please, when I please and where I please. You have a passport?”
“I’ll need a passport?” What I really need right now is a stiff drink—or a fast getaway car. “Yes. Naturally.”
“Good. Two. From now on, I want you to step back as presenter for your film report. Do some interviews, maybe a voiceover at the final edit. But I want you to distance yourself from your team.”
Instantly a chill spreads through me. “But…I’m the anchor. It was your idea, they tell me, and we’re a team. I can’t just step aside.”
In an instant he’s switched from friendly host to brutally efficient CEO. For the first time, I feel a wisp of sympathy for the long-suffering Sonja.
“This is not a negotiation. It’s what I want. If you agree, we’ll discuss terms later, but only the detail—implements, equipment, timetables, all that.”
Excitement flares again. Implements? Ye gods. I stare at him, helpless.
His eyes flicker as he resumes. “Three. No one must know. I insist you keep our arrangement a secret. I no longer practice professionally and I’m reluctant to give the impression that I do. My private life stays that way—private. I’d make you sign a non-disclosure agreement but I prefer to avoid a paper trail. Your contractual position here is, in any case, unchanged.”
His smile carries a faint glimmer of triumph as he lowers his voice. “And I’m guessing you feel the same. You’ve got just as much—if not more—to lose, if our arrangement became public.”
He’s right. For me exposure would be a disaster. Presenters are public figures, some even household names. For me that’s still some way off but to be linked to kinky sex? I’d never live it down, probably never work again. And at home…? I shudder.
“Those are my terms. You can think it over if you like. Sleep on it and tell me tomorrow.”
It’s wildly exciting but it’s an awful shock. As questions bubble up, I seize one at random. “But the secrecy thing with the team… We’re very close. That’s how we work. I can’t hope to keep a secret from them.”
He looks unimpressed. “You’ll just have to get creative. That’s one of the reasons I moved you up here. At least you’ll be out of range.”
“But… Two whole weeks? Supposing they guess? Suppose somebody sees us…or hears us?” I try not to think of the awful noises they might hear…starting now. I feel like yelling already.
He smiles faintly, lifts my hand and touches his lips to my fingers. A whisper of sensation flashes all over me, making the down rise all along my arm. “Well, you’d better start praying. Because if that happens, you and your friends will immediately get the sack.”
It takes a few seconds for this to sink in. “What? You can’t do that.”
I try to snatch away my hand but he holds it fast, turns it over and kisses my palm, his mouth hot and urgent. Signals flash all the way down and I begin to pulse.
He lowers my hand. “Oh yes I can. I own the network.”
He does? He would. How typical.
I glare at him. “That’s blackmail.”
The sudden fury in his eyes throws me. “That’s justice. You try canceling a launch. Employees had chosen homes, schools, prepared to settle here on the premise that the venture went ahead as planned. Now you can find out just what it’s like to have other people’s fate in your hands, even if it’s on a smaller scale. It’ll teach you a lesson.”
A pit yawns in my stomach as his meaning sinks in. Did I really do all that? “But you can’t just blame me. Maybe it was the wrong time. Maybe the public just wasn’t ready.”
“And maybe if you’d shown a little more self-control that evening, everything would have passed off smoothly, I’d have saved millions and all this would have been wrapped up months ago.”
My mind races. The order came straight from the top. “So, why me? Ben said I was a deal-breaker. Why?” My words hang in the air. I’ve touched a nerve. “And now you want me to back off?”
“Partly that. What you want me to do won’t be easy for me. I think you should have to struggle too. That’s only fair.”
Anger makes me bold. “Struggle? I thought you people did this for fun?”
His expression hardens. “We do. I did…until you came along. Suppose I told you that seeing you on screen that night shocked me almost as much as it shocked you? Suppose I told you I tried to change?” His expression clouds with some fierce emotion. “And suppose I told you that in my office this afternoon, you went one step too far? For you people, most people, this is sex play. Not for me. For me it’s real. You play with me, you play with fire. If you want me to do this I’ll do it, but only on my terms. Sleep on it. Tell me what you decide tomorrow. After that, we’ll drop it for good.”
He glances at his watch. “I must go. And you’d better dress. Keep that on. Put something over it. That black satin thing should do it.” He gestures vaguely to the pile of gowns heaped on the chair then turns on his heel.
Outraged, I glare after him.
He glances back with a sudden grin. The effect is disarming. “Better get used to obeying orders if you’re training with me. And pile up your hair. I like to see your neck.”
* * * *
When I finally go downstairs, I’m relieved there’s no sign of him. I need a breather.
Against my better judgment, I’d tried the black satin. It fits like skin and the scarlet lace trim of my corset makes a perfect ruffle along the plunging neckline. The slit in the skirt parts as I move to show the occasional flash of garter, the scarlet lace another perfect match.
The effect’s sexy and surprisingly chic. He even knows about clothes? Or was it a lucky guess?
As I catch up with the others, the effect is instant and startling.
“Hey, Tunis—wow.” Ben looks taken aback.
Jake’s jaw drops.
I grin back. “Okay, you guys, chill. This place getting to you already? We’ve been here barely twelve hours.”
But it’s gratifying to see other heads turn. I should wear naughty lace more often. And it’s a relief to see that most costumes here are far more daring than mine. I feel almost modest amongst all the bulging latex and oiled, naked flesh.
The glitterati on display like this will make terrific TV. Jake must be itching to get his camera rolling.
* * * *
As the evening wears on, I slowly relax. High living can be fun, even though we’re only pretending and we’re supposed to be at work. Dinner was excellent, the small tables in the dining room crowded and noisy. Afterward I spot four film stars, two sports personalities, an oil billionaire and an artist then lose count of the B- and C-listers before it occurs to me that I’m now almost one myself.
Many are with teams of people—stylists, publicists and agents—here to ensure we show their employer’s best side and stay off sensitive topics. Setting up the interviews will be a nightmare.
There’s still no sign of Cade. I firmly resist the temptation to ask where he is.
As couples begin to dance, Mel sashays over to the rhythm of a familiar, catchy tune.
“Love beat—had me in its spell,
Love beat—opened up your shell…”
It’s Cade’s original hit song.
“Don’t say we’re stuck with that damn tune all week.” Jake morosely orders another daiquiri.
Mel grins. “I love it. I think it’s a terrific song.”
Ben leans forward and pushes his glass toward the barman. “Must have made him a fortune. His first hit single—in and out of the charts ever since. He used the money to finance all his other stuff. Nice little earner.”
Mel raises her glass with a wry smile. “Here’s to chemistry.”
The song filters through to us, the words full of new meaning. “Love Beat—open up for me…” Couples are swaying to the familiar tune.
The song’s so well known that before
today, I’d almost forgotten Fitzlean’s link to it. It’s a simple ballad with a steady, catchy beat and a haunting melody that lies over the top like a lament. I never gave it much thought.
As a dancer, I’m more familiar with Prokofiev and Tchaikovsky, but looking around me now I see the effects of the money it makes and I understand a tiny glimmer of his power.
You can get this rich from something so simple. Astonishing.
And right on cue, he’s standing in front of me.
“Saw you there and I knew you were sent,
Felt you here and I knew I was lost.
Love Beat…”
How can words so simple suddenly feel so apt?
I feel Jake crowding my elbow.
Cade casually greets the others but his gaze stays locked on me as he holds out his hand.
“Shall we dance?”
In his presence I feel like a rag doll. In his arms, I’m a princess.
Something about his touch on my arm, the feel of his body so close to mine, sparks instant energy. He moves beautifully, with an easy grace rare outside a dance studio.
Even more rare—we’re perfectly in sync. His movements mirror mine. Not just from courtesy, from the soul. It’s spooky.
Dancing’s my first love. It comes to me as naturally as walking. He spins me round in an intricate flourish, and we share a smile—mine surprised, his triumphant. As he pulls me back into his arms I whisper close to his ear. “Is this wise? Won’t people talk?”
“About one dance? Hardly. I saw you earlier from the lawn. You were admiring the view?”
So he did see me. I redden. “I was curious when I saw you talking to the groundskeepers. Are you that friendly with all your staff?” I try to sound cynical.
He performs another perfect turn and threads skillfully between the couples to lead me away from the tables to a place with fewer people. Now we’re almost alone.
He ignores my sarcasm, his expression solemn. “His wife’s just had their first baby. He’s asked me to the christening. And yes, since you ask, I know most of the staff here by their first names. When it’s not hosting festivals or themed weeks for sex-mad celebs, this place happens to be my home. Well, one of them.”