by Evie Hunter
His smile was positively evil. ‘I have it for something else.’
She could imagine the uses he would find for the long, soft belt. It would be perfect for tying someone up. She shivered. ‘But how will I close the robe?’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’
Standing there, watching him cook, it was easy to hold it closed from her chin to her shins. She admired the competent way he moved around the small kitchen, unhurried but everything so coordinated that all the food arrived on the table at once.
Sinead had never been interested in the preparation of food. It had always seemed so much hassle when it was quicker and easier to open a packet and eat on the run. But she had to admit that one of the benefits of sharing a flat with her cousin had been the food. Summer loved cooking, and Sinead had benefited from her skills.
When Summer was upset, she had used cooking as therapy. After one particular fiasco in her love life, she had run up a bill of over £2,000 at Fortnum & Mason, and Sinead had learnt not to eat the day before she visited. Or the day after.
Niall was no chef. She doubted he would recognize a caper, never mind know which fish it went with, but the coffee was hot and aromatic, the eggs were perfectly round and the bacon was crisp. And he put things away as he worked, leaving the kitchen neat and the worktops clear.
‘Do you enjoy cooking?’ She picked up her fork and stabbed an egg. Yolk oozed out slowly. Exactly the way she liked it. Was he a mind reader?
Niall shrugged. ‘It’s a useful skill. I need to eat a lot, so unless I want to live on junk, I need to cook it.’ His own plate had five eggs. Hers had two.
When she lifted her knife, Sinead discovered the problem with the bathrobe. She couldn’t do any activity without it falling open. She pulled it across her, and tried to hold it closed with her knees.
Niall’s gaze dropped to her chest.
‘Hey, I’m up here,’ she snapped. She hated guys who talked to her breasts.
But Niall gave her a slow, hot stare. ‘Not all of you.’
She held the robe closed with her left hand while she took a gulp of coffee. Niall transferred his attention to his plate and ate enthusiastically. Where did he put it all? she wondered. He was a big man, but he really did eat three times more than she did.
‘I don’t eat egg yolks,’ she told him.
‘You should, they’re full of good stuff that will keep you healthy.’
‘And fat!’
He frowned at her. ‘And you don’t eat enough for someone of your activity level. Finish what’s on your plate and I’ll give you a treat.’
‘What age am I? Eight?’ But she picked up her fork again. She’d spent too many years of her life cutting back so she would fit into her Lottie outfits and look good on stage. There was something comforting about being told to eat.
‘Oh no, I can see you’re all grown up.’ His words were a promise that caused her pussy to clench. And filled her mind with ways to torment him.
Deliberately, she allowed the robe to gape while she ate a mouthful of bacon. It was crisp and she didn’t have to feign pleasure as she chewed. ‘Mmm. Perfect.’ She half-closed her eyes in appreciation.
Niall’s face was still, but his pupils dilated. Oh yeah, he liked that. He could be as dominating as he liked, but he wasn’t immune to her. And he hadn’t met Lottie yet. Not really. The performance in the café had just been a warm-up act.
She picked up her cup, the movement giving him a flash of her breast for a second before it was covered again. He swallowed. Poor baby. She was going to kill him.
She held the coffee in both hands, so that her robe parted, but the position of her arms prevented it opening all the way. He was transfixed. She sipped, and gave a subtle shift of her shoulders. ‘You make good coffee.’
She considered herself something of a connoisseur of coffee, she drank so much of it.
‘Thanks.’ But his voice sounded preoccupied. Considering that he had already seen every inch of her body, what was it about her slightly parted bathrobe that had him so distracted? With a wicked grin that he didn’t see because he was staring at the inside curve of breast, she set out to drive him wild.
She ate with gusto, as if she wasn’t aware that her every movement translated into a new shift in her state of undress. She finished her breakfast long before he did. Something was keeping him off-balance. His Y chromosome. Men were slaves to it.
‘I’m still hungry,’ she told him, managing to put a pout and a promise into her voice.
Without a word, he gave her an egg and a slice of bacon from his plate.
‘Perfect. I love a man who knows how to satisfy a woman.’ Her smile was pure Lottie and a quick twist to pick up the pepper mill granted him a glimpse of an erect nipple.
‘What? Oh yeah. Sure.’ Niall had trouble getting the words out, and his upper lip was damp.
Poor baby. Lottie was going to make him sweat.
17
The insistent buzzing on the doorbell made Sinead jump. Niall was on his feet immediately, motioning her to be quiet. For a big man, he moved swiftly. He bundled her into the bedroom and through the door into the en-suite bathroom. ‘Lock the door and don’t come out until I call you.’
With shaking fingers she locked the door and slumped onto the tiled floor. Who could be looking for them? What if it was Hall’s men again?
The tiny bathroom window wouldn’t let a child through and, besides, what the hell would she do on the thirty-fifth floor of an apartment block? Nothing stood between her and Hall but the man outside. Niall might be a deceitful, manipulative bastard but he had sworn to protect her and that much she believed.
She didn’t want to think about what might happen if it was Hall out there, but if there was a fight, she couldn’t let Niall do it alone. She climbed to her feet and opened the door. Voices came from the outer room. Niall and another man, and she recognized that laugh.
Clutching the edges of her bathrobe around her, Sinead raced through the bedroom door and flung herself into his arms. ‘Andy McTavish, you frightened the life out of me.’
He had been involved in the rescue of her cousin. During those awful few days during the summer, she had met several of the other operatives from Niall’s company, but Andy was the friendliest and the most flirtatious.
He kissed her on the cheek and embraced her enthusiastically. ‘Sorry to scare you, babe, my phone was damaged during our encounter with Hall. It’s been on the blink since, so I couldn’t call to say I was coming over.’
Andy looked good, as tall and handsome as ever. He could have been a model, and he knew exactly how gorgeous he was.
Niall made a sound suspiciously like a growl and Sinead glared at him. He stared pointedly at Andy’s arm, still wrapped around her waist. What was his problem?
‘I suggest you fasten that bathrobe,’ he said.
She looked down and realized it had gaped open, and Andy was enjoying the view. She resisted the urge to drag it closed, and instead made a production of it, one that captured Andy’s attention as well as Niall’s. Let him see he wasn’t the only man in the world.
Andy coughed. ‘I’ve brought you a few things from Bertrand’s apartment,’ he said.
Sinead pounced on the bag and tugged it open. Everything appeared to be intact. She had her ID and cash cards. ‘I love you.’
‘I know.’ Andy winked at her. ‘I have that effect on all the girls.’
Niall cleared his throat. ‘If we can dispense with the mutual appreciation society meeting, I’d like an update.’
‘Bertrand is recovering, but we should keep him covered until we find Hall.’
‘What do you mean “find Hall”?’ Niall roared.
‘He disappeared before they got him to the police station.’
‘Fuck.’ Niall paced the floor. ‘Find him. Bring in more operatives if we need them. I don’t like the idea of that bastard being out on the streets.’
Andy nodded. ‘I’m already on it and y
ou might want to see this. A courier tried to deliver it to Bertrand’s place and when they didn’t get an answer, they left it with a neighbour.’
The seal on the back of the dark envelope had already been broken. It was simply addressed to Red. Sinead couldn’t resist flashing Niall an I-told-you-so look. She snatched the envelope from his hand and pulled out the invitation. Madame Hermione de Montraforte cordially requested her presence for the weekend at her house in Ville d’Avray. The party theme was Mistress and slave.
‘See!’ She couldn’t resist waving the invitation under Niall’s nose. ‘And you didn’t believe me. I told you – my sister will be there.’
She was learning how to read him, and saw the doubt on his face.
He took the invitation from her and read it carefully. ‘You’re not going to this.’
‘What do you mean I’m not going? This is the best lead we have. The woman who sent it knows my sister. I have to go.’
‘It’s too dangerous. God knows what you’d be walking into.’
Andy laughed. ‘Some of those parties are wild. I know exactly what she’d be walking into.’
‘You would.’ Niall shot him a filthy look.
Sinead paused. She had been so focused on finding Roisin that she hadn’t thought about what she would have to do to blend in. Andy had reminded her that she’d be diving in at the deep end in a scene she knew nothing about. This would be nothing like the routines she did on stage.
She took a breath. She had to go. She’d pump Andy for any information she needed and she’d fake it. She was a performer. She could do it.
Andy shrugged and smiled. ‘Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’ll go with Sinead. The invitation says Mistress and slave. It would be a bit odd if she turned up without one. What do you say, Sinead? Think you could keep me in line for a couple of days? I promise to be good.’
His wicked smile told her he would be anything but good. Andy was drop-dead gorgeous and the prospect of parading him on a leash for the weekend made her giggle. She would have to fight the other Mistresses off. ‘I doubt if you know what the word means.’
‘You could teach me. I’d be a very willing pupil.’ He stretched out the last three words, leaving her in no doubt as to how he would behave.
Sinead rolled her eyes. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a –’
‘I’ll go.’ Niall’s statement put a sudden end to the conversation.
Andy snorted and his eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘You on a leash? I’d pay money to see that. Besides, you haven’t a submissive bone in your body. You wouldn’t have a clue how to behave. It’s better to leave this one to me, boss.’
He turned to her. ‘We need to do some shopping, Sinead. We need to be dressed to fit in. I’ll have a look to see where we can get good play outfits.’
Sinead shuddered at the thought of letting Andy shop for her. ‘I know the perfect place.’
They both looked at her.
Damn. She had spoken without thinking. Several of Lottie’s stage outfits had been made in Paris and she knew specialist shops where she could buy something suitable. If she was going to impersonate her sister, she’d better look the part.
‘A friend of Gabriel’s is famous for this stuff,’ she said. ‘She’ll sort us out.’
‘I’ve said that I’ll do it.’ Niall’s tone was clipped and his mouth formed a thin, hard line. He couldn’t be serious. She shot Andy a pleading glance. He would be much easier to work with. Niall would want to control everything and that was hardly slave-like behaviour.
Andy eyed Niall dubiously. ‘I don’t want to point out the obvious, but you don’t look or behave like a slave. You don’t have any suitable clothes and you’d need a hell of a lot of man-scaping before you’d get through the front door.’
Niall scowled. ‘We better get started.’
Sinead stopped him with an upraised hand. ‘I want my clothes first.’
‘Damn!’ Andy said. ‘I hoped she wouldn’t ask.’
Clara de Lune was a six foot two cross-dresser from Galway who had settled in Paris some fifteen years before, but she had never lost her Galway lilt. Her French was atrocious, but that didn’t dissuade her legion of customers. Sinead knew her as one of the finest tailors of stage clothing in the business. She spotted her the moment Sinead entered the store and Sinead crossed the floor swiftly, trying to get to her before the others.
She swept her up in a bear hug. ‘I didn’t know you were in Paris.’
Sinead hugged her tightly, inhaling the smell of her face powder, which reminded her of her grandmother. ‘Not a word to them about Lottie, promise me,’ she whispered. ‘And call me Sinead. I’ll tell you everything later.’
‘Mum’s the word, pet. Now, what can I do you for?’ She shot a glance at Andy and Niall who were hovering beside a costume that consisted entirely of feathers. ‘They’re not dancers, I presume?’
‘As if! But we need some costumes for a party tomorrow night.’
‘Fancy dress, is it?’ Clara inspected Niall and Andy as if they were two mannequins.
‘Sort of,’ Andy chipped in. ‘The theme is Mistress and slave.’
‘Hermione’s bash?’
‘You know her?’ Niall asked.
‘Darling, I know everybody who is anybody.’ Clara turned on her size ten heels. ‘This way, don’t mind the tat. I’ll show you the good stuff.’
They climbed the stairs to the workshop and Sinead ran her fingers along the costumes lining the rails. Lace, rhinestones and feathers clamoured for her touch. Lottie would have been drooling. There was no way she could leave here without buying something.
‘What about this?’ Andy held up a scarlet leather catsuit.
‘Mimi Lorenzo is wearing one exactly the same.’
‘This?’ Sinead fingered a black corset. The fabric was soft and supple to the touch, a perfect casing for the rows of spiral steel bones beneath. It would fit her like a glove.
Clara considered it. ‘It’s too ordinary for you, my pet. Tell me, which one is the slave?’
Niall couldn’t make up his mind which of them he was most pissed at – the big cross-dresser who looked him up and down like a side of beef, Andy McTavish who was enjoying this way too much, or Sinead O’Sullivan who was trying to hold in her laughter.
‘I am her escort for the night,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘And I’m not a slave.’
Clara gave a derisive laugh. ‘They all say that.’ She walked around Niall, inspecting him from all angles. ‘Nice buns. And great legs.’
‘He’s got good shoulders too,’ Sinead said helpfully. ‘We need an outfit that shows him off.’
Clara dived into a box in a corner. ‘I love a man in uniform, but he’s too tall to fit anything that I have. Don’t worry, I’ll find something.’
Niall found a bundle of leather thrust into his hands.
‘Try this on, see how it looks.’
He gritted his teeth. He was not in the least self-conscious. He was proud of his body, which was the result of thousands of hours of hard work. But seeing three pairs of eyes laughing at him put his temper on edge.
‘Don’t mind us,’ Andy said. ‘Pretend we’re not here.’
Clara smacked Andy on the hand. ‘Don’t tease the poor man. It’s his first time. I can always tell.’ She pointed to a corner with a curtain. ‘Nip in there, duckie, and get changed.’
Niall snapped the curtain closed and stripped down to his boxers. He held up the leather and discovered it was a pair of trousers, soft and supple. He could cope with that. He pulled them on and had to tug hard to get them up. The belt at the top fastened – almost – but the laces at the thigh were stretched dangerously tight.
‘Come on out, sweetie.’ Clara’s head peered in around the edge of the curtain.
Holding himself stiffly, Niall left the shelter of the curtains.
Sinead and Andy didn’t even attempt to stay silent. They laughed in his face.
‘Sweet
ie, you’re not supposed to wear the kaks under it,’ Clara said.
‘But –’ He gave up the protest. The trousers were cut out front and back. Without his boxers, he would be committing indecent exposure. It was clear Clara didn’t care. ‘They don’t fit,’ he insisted.
‘I can see that,’ Clara said. ‘Beef to the heel, like a Mullingar heifer.’ She ran a finger under his waistband, and felt the tension across his thighs.
‘We need something he can move in,’ Andy said. ‘He can’t squat in those.’
‘Or kneel,’ Sinead said.
He glared at both of them, and turned to Clara. ‘How about some sort of uniform? Cargo pants and a Kevlar jacket would be perfect.’
‘Don’t be silly, dearie. If you want to play toy soldiers at home, that’s fine, but if you want to get into Hermione’s do, you’ll need a proper outfit.’ Clara handed him another piece of leather. ‘Try that.’
It was a lot smaller than those damned obscene pants and it barely covered Niall’s hand. ‘Where’s the rest of it?’
A puzzled expression crossed Clara’s face. ‘Silly me. There’s a collar and chain to go with it. Now where did I put them?’
Clara hurried to a back room in search of the accessories and the moment the door was closed, Andy burst into laughter. ‘Please, can I go? I don’t care if I have to wear a feather in my ass.’
‘Fuck off.’ Niall glared at him. ‘If you want to stay pretty, I suggest you quit while you’re ahead.’
The door opened and Clara returned carrying something that looked too small to be a costume. She held up a diaphanous piece of fabric and some jewelled pasties to Sinead.
‘And this one is yours. Samson and Delilah. You’ll be divine.’ She handed the outfit to Sinead, then went back to the other room to search for Niall’s accessories.
Niall allowed Sinead to take the changing corner and stripped off the trousers. The outfit was a loincloth. A fucking leather loincloth. ‘I feel like a right dick,’ he said.
Andy walked around him, admiring him from every angle. ‘You know, in a weird sort of way, it suits you.’