“I do. It’s a heck of a commute.”
Benoit laughed. “It is that. And look, not to pressure you, but doesn’t the baby kind of put a time limit on this job?”
“It does. I worked out that I have about six good months. Even if I just get the ball rolling on some cases, I will have felt that at least I achieved something.”
Benoit squeezed her hand. “Should we talk about living arrangements when you come back to Paris?”
Shiloh hesitated. “I don’t know. How about we say not yet’ and see how this thing progresses?”
Benoit lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Agreed.”
Shiloh smiled at him. ’Hey. How’s Maceo? And Ori?”
Benoit’s smile faded. “Maceo is bearing up. Ori … Alex took her out of state, to his place in Vermont.”
“Alex did?” She sounded skeptical, and Benoit frowned.
“Concerns?”
Shiloh raised her eyebrows. “Hasn’t Alex got a pretty major crush on Ori?”
Benoit half-smiled. “I don’t think that’s anything to worry about. Maceo wanted her protected while he was in jail.”
After a pause, Shiloh said softly, “You don’t think he did it, do you?”
“Maceo? No way.”
“But if he caught Tyson in the act of trying to kill Ori … it could have happened.”
Benoit inclined his head. “True, but Maceo would have admitted it, that’s what I’m really saying. Maceo is a terrible liar, so he doesn’t bother. He would take responsibility. Besides, Janek was killed some time after Ori was attacked. Maceo has an alibi—some artist in Queens—but the authorities, for some reason, don’t believe this guy. They say Maceo is the only person with a motive other than Ori herself. What a fucking mess.”
“I should call Ori,” Shiloh said, thinking about the lovely young women she’d only met once but had liked immensely.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Benoit smiled at her warmly. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her soft mouth. “Now, Ms. Holt, why don’t you show me around this lovely city?”
Ori was frustrated, bored, and felt out of place in Alex’s huge Vermont mansion. Even Maceo’s sumptuous Venetian apartment couldn’t hold a candle to it, but for some reason, Ori couldn’t settle. It lacked something. Warmth. Whereas Maceo’s apartment had bookshelves stuffed with books, expensive but comfortable couches, and a kitchen designed to be the heart of the house, Alex’s home was a study in minimalism. Ori had been surprised. Alex seemed far too friendly a man to have a home like this. She wondered what Viola had made of it.
Outside, winter had set in, and Ori shivered as she watched the snow pile up. She missed Maceo so much that it was like a physical pain in her chest. They spoke every day on the phone, but when she went to sleep at night, the bed seemed huge and cold without him beside her.
Alex was kind and attentive, but Ori felt slightly awkward around him. There were photographs of Viola everywhere, and Ori saw her own resemblance to the dead woman even more keenly now, living in her home. She wondered if Alex was more aware of it; she would catch him staring at her as if he had seen a ghost sometimes, before turning away, apologizing.
You poor man, she thought now. I cannot imagine how I would feel if anything happened to Maceo. Desperate to distract herself, she spent time talking on the phone to Lucia at the gallery back in Venice and burying herself in the work Lucia emailed to her.
Kate Garcia, Maceo’s lawyer, had come up to interview Ori and had brought Lisander. Ori had been amused by the pair’s bickering as Kate grilled Ori on Maceo’s personality and Lisander rolled his eyes constantly. As the pair were leaving to go back to New York, Ori had nudged Lisander. “She’s lovely,” she had whispered, but Lisander gave her a mockscowl.
“She’s a child...” But Ori could see that he liked the young lawyer.
At midnight, Ori closed her laptop and padded down to the kitchen to get some milk. The house rang with silence, and she wondered where Alex was. She didn’t want to intrude on his privacy by asking. She wandered through the darkened house. She had been surprised that Alex didn’t have a huge staff for this enormous mansion. His chef arrived in the morning and stayed all day, but apart from a couple of cleaning staff, the house was empty. As Ori made for the stairs again, she glanced over at the front door. Deadbolt and locks. This place wasn’t a home; it was a fortress.
She went to bed and tugged the comforter around her. Sleep was eluding her, so she closed her eyes and conjured up a memory: She and Maceo working late at the gallery, discussing a new exhibition they had planned for the following spring. She loved that, despite his insatiable appetite for her sexually, he also appreciated her intelligence and work ethic and didn’t dismiss her ideas. He respected her. She told him as much that night, and he grinned at her.
“Of course, mio caro. I didn’t just want you for your body, although now that you mention it, you are looking very fine tonight.”
Ori chuckled. “After being at work all day?”
Maceo rounded the table and studied her. The pale pink summer dress she was wearing looked warm against her olive skin; her dark eyes shone at him. He pushed her hair back over her shoulders and trailed his fingers along her throat. “Especially,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers, “after being at work all day.” He slid his fingers under the thin straps of the dress and pulled them down her shoulders.
Ori sank into his kiss, feeling him pop the catch on her bra and take her full breasts in his hands. Her dress slithered off her body to the floor, and Maceo gently laid her on his desk, grinning down at her as he stripped off his clothes.
“I knew I liked this desk for a reason,” he said, and Ori laughed, excited, her heart pounding as she opened her arms to him. He ripped her panties from her in one sharp tug, and buried his face in her sex, nipping at her clit with his teeth, lashing his tongue around it until Ori was shivering with pleasure. After making her come twice, he stood, and she saw his cock, long, thick, up against his belly and she edged forward to take it in her mouth. Her hands massaged his balls and fisted the root of him as her tongue swept across the wide crest of his cock and Maceo groaned her name. She loved having this power over him, her fingernails now digging into his buttocks as she sucked him.
“I want to come on your skin … lay back for me, bella …”
She did, and he came, shooting creamy white cum onto her belly before pressing her legs apart and thrusting deep into her soaking wet cunt. Ori clamped her legs around his hips as his cock plowed deep inside her, the girth of him filling her entirely. She would never stop marveling about how well their bodies fit together. Her breasts, pillowy and plump, pressed against his hard chest, her fingers tangled in his brown curls. Their gazes—dark hazel, light green—locked and never slid away as they fucked each other.
“I love you so much,” Ori whispered, which made Maceo thrust even harder until she was screaming his name. They tumbled to the floor where Maceo took her again, flipping her onto her stomach to take her from behind. Ori had never felt as wonderfully sensual as when she was naked and vulnerable in his arms. She had complete trust in him, both with her body and her heart.
When finally, exhausted, they caught their breath. Maceo lay on top of her, smoothing her damp hair away from her face. “You are exquisite,” he said, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Our children will be gorgeous.”
Ori chuckled. “Seriously, Maceo, I’ve never known anyone with so much confidence.”
Maceo grinned, shrugging unrepentantly. “I know I’m a good-looking man; I’ve cashed in on it many times.” He grinned, but she winced. “Hey, I meant as a business tool.”
Ori took a deep breath in. “Sorry. I’m not a crazy jealous person, I promise. But I hear things.”
“From?”
She hesitated then said in a small voice, “Cassie.”
Maceo rolled his eyes. “Cassie likes to exaggerate for reasons of her own.”
Ori couldn’t look at him. “
Were you and her ever …?”
Maceo shrugged. “She really isn’t my type.”
Ori grinned then. “So how many women have you slept with?”
“I honestly didn’t count,” he said, rolling off her, and for a moment she wondered if she had upset him. His face was neutral, though. “Ori, the only thing that matters is how many I’ve slept with since I met you and that’s one. You. You are my life, my love. There will never be anyone else.”
Ori’s eyes filled with tears and she got choked up. “Oh, Maceo.”
Maceo pulled her on top of him. “Now, be a good girl and straddle me. I want to play a game.”
She did as he asked, giggling as he tickled her gently, then, as he grabbed his tie, she raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, yes?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Implicitly.”
“Good.” He grabbed her wrists and bound them together behind her back. Ori chuckled at him.
“Kinky.”
“Just testing your limits, bella.”
Ori wriggled on top of him, feeling his cock growing hard underneath her. She was completely turned on by the feel of silk tie tight around her wrists. Maceo smiled at her.
“Now, I’m just going to touch you,” and he smoothed the palm of his hand over her belly and her hip. With the other hand, he pinched her nipple, gently at first, and then harder when she gave a little gasp. “God, you’re beautiful, Orianthi Roy.”
She moaned softly, and he lifted her easily and impaled her on his diamond hard cock. “Fuck me, little girl,” he growled, and she obeyed, slamming her hips against his, his fingers digging into the flesh, so soft and malleable under his touch. He reached between her legs to massage her clit as she moved above, reveling in the ecstasy on her lovely face as she came once, twice, three times. As he reached his peak, he freed her hands, and she tightened her vaginal muscles around his cock as it pumped warm cum deep into her.
He gathered her to him and kissed her, murmuring, “How about we just stay here forever?”
If only they had, Ori thought now, all these weeks later. The ache she felt in her chest and not being with Maceo was agonizing, and finally, she let herself cry out all her sorrow, for Maceo, for AJ, and for herself.
He almost marveled at their arrogance. Moving Orianthi out of state; Bartoli locked up and so, so sure she was safe. She was never safe; he’d proved that. The day he’d killed Janek was also the day he’d come so, so close to killing Ori too. He’d had to hold back and remind himself. Not yet. Not yet. She was unconscious, and her T-shirt had ridden up, and the warm gold skin of her belly had been too much temptation. He had placed the knife tip against the skin then. Just to appease his almost overwhelming bloodlust, he’d pushed the blade into her, just a centimeter or so, enough to watch the flesh sink under the steel, then split. Enough to spill her precious blood without ruining the anticipation of the actual kill, the murder, the horrific death he had planned for her.
And the blonde girl? Benoit’s lover … he grinned to himself now. Masterstroke. Now they thought it was all about their lovers—all of their lovers, not just Ori. It deflected any suspicions they might have. He’d had the blonde followed; found out she was going to Africa, had someone take the photo then. He grinned to himself. He had no interest in the blonde, but if it kept The Midnight Club angry and fearful—all the better.
His thoughts returned to Ori. So lovely and yet so vulnerable. He hadn’t finalized his plan to kill her— the where or when—but it would be talked about for years, afterward, in hushed tones. That poor girl, they would say, you would not treat an animal that way.
Do you know, Ori? Do you sense that I’m close? Do you think about me, how I’ll kill you, how I’ll make you suffer? Can you picture Maceo’s grief?
Soon, my love. Soon.
Kate Garcia felt another wave of nausea come over her, but she swallowed hard. Maceo, sitting next to her, exhausted and drained, shot a glance at her. “You okay?”
Kate tried to smile at him. She had to be okay. Today was Maceo’s bail hearing, and by the looks of him, he’d reached the end of his tether. She knew how desperately he wanted to be with Ori, that sending her away with Alex had killed him. If they could get the judge to set bail, Maceo could get some decent sleep, in Ori’s arms.
The trouble was not with her case, which as far as she and her boss could see was pretty open and shut, but with Kate herself. The past few days she had felt so ill, so sick, that even Nikos had noticed.
“You should stay home,” he’d said, but Kate shook her head.
“No way. I’ve never taken any time off sick, and I’m not about to start now.”
Sitting here in the stuffy courtroom, she was beginning to regret her stubbornness. Thankfully, the judge arrived. Kate argued her case, the prosecution argued theirs and finally, the judge granted bail in the sum of one million dollars. “And you are to surrender your passport, Mr. Bartoli.”
Maceo nodded somberly. “Of course, Your Honor. Thank you.”
Afterward, in the car with a very relieved Maceo, Kate told him what she’d found out. “They have no case, Maceo. Nothing. They needed to make an arrest quickly because of who Tyson Janek was, but they have nothing on you. No forensics. The artist in Queens wasn’t the only one who saw you at his place or at MOMA. I’ll be surprised if this case ever sees the inside of that courtroom again. The DA is pissed.”
Maceo sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest. “That’s good to hear.”
“Do you want to go back to the hotel and get some sleep?”
“I’ll go back to the hotel, but only to take a shower. I want to go to Vermont tonight. Lisander is waiting for me.”
At the hotel, Kate, telling herself it was just to make sure Maceo checked in okay and not, absolutely not, because she wanted to see Lisander again, went with him.
Lisander was waiting in the suite, a table full of sketches in front of him. He and Maceo hugged for the longest time, then, as Maceo went to shower and change, Lisander smiled at Kate. “Thank you.” His rich, heavily accented voice made her belly quiver. “You have done a remarkable job.”
Kate tried to smile. “Not really, but thank you. They don’t have a case; it’s that simple.” She nodded at the sketches. “They’re beautiful.”
Lisander smiled. “You think so? Come, take a look for me.”
“I don’t know anything about fashion.”
Lisander made a noise. “Don’t be silly. All I want to know is if you would wear something like this.”
He picked up a sheet of sketch paper and handed it to her. It was a beautiful, gold gown, fitted, with a skirt that billowed out from a tiny waist. “You would look amazing in this,” Lisander said softly. “The color of your skin against the gold? Oh, yes. And how about this green? Or the burgundy?”
Kate flushed at his compliment. He was sitting next to her now, and she couldn’t help breathing in his scent of cologne and soap. His knee rested gently on hers. Although her stomach was roiling, she still felt desire flood through her. Nikos. Don’t forget Nikos …
She looked up at Lisander, opening her mouth to comment on the sketches, when her brain failed her. Lisander was looking at her, his dark eyes so intense she couldn’t look away. Time passed; one heartbeat, two …
Lisander bent his head and brushed her lips with his. Light, quick, testing her. The second kiss was firmer; the third one he slid his tongue into her mouth. Kate sank into the kiss, knowing it was wrong.
They both jumped as someone banged on the door. “Room service.”
Guiltily, Kate stood, not looking at Lisander. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Maceo?”
Maceo came out of the shower, wearing a towel around his waist. Kate almost groaned. What was with these guys? They radiated sex. She forced herself to speak in a professional tone. “I must go. Have a great time in Vermont, but stay in touch. “
She couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. In her car, she brushed away some tears
. What the hell were you thinking? Poor, poor Nikos. He deserved better.
He wasn’t home when she got in, and she was glad. Her nausea had returned, and now she felt lightheaded and hungry. She grabbed some leftover lasagna from the fridge and microwaved it, but as soon as she put the first forkful into her mouth, she knew she had made a mistake.
She made it to the sink before she threw up, but barely. When there was nothing more to vomit up, she sank to the kitchen floor. God, she must be sick. She crawled to the bathroom and rummaged around for painkillers in the cabinet. She threw a couple down with some water, managed to keep them down, then crawled into bed. Curling up under the duvet, she dozed off and on. A couple of hours later she heard Nikos come home.
He checked her temperature. “Still sick, baby?”
She nodded, and he wrapped her up in the comforter. “I think we need to get you to a doctor, Kate.”
She waved him away. “It’s just a virus.”
Three hours later, she was screaming in pain as a panicked Nikos called the emergency services. Sirens, flashing lights, and she was being wheeled into emergency surgery. Appendicitis.
“Well, shit,” she said, still high on morphine when Nikos came to visit her the next day. “Just damn appendicitis.”
Nikos smiled at her. “Just? Baby, I’m so happy it was just that. I was scared out of my gourd.”
A nurse knocked on the door. “Someone sent flowers.”
“That’s nice … oh, wow.” Kate gaped as a huge bouquet was brought in with a large manila envelope. The bouquet was stunning, pale golds, creams, yellow and whites; roses, gerberas, lilies, and, Kate noticed, a few fronds of pampas grass. She suppressed a smile. Lisander. How the hell did he know she was here?
Nikos’s expression was confused. “Who are they from?”
“I think they are from a friend of a friend. Lisander Duarte.” She was opening the envelope.
“The designer?” Nikos sounded impressed, but Kate wasn’t listening. She was holding the sketch of the golden dress. On it, in his elegant scrawl, Lisander had titled it El Catalina D’Oro’ and under that had written, “When you are well enough, it is yours. L’
Nightclub Surprise Page 64