Seductive Secrecy (Shadows series)

by Mann, Marni

  There was something I knew for sure, though.

  “It’s not gone,” I whispered. “Not any of it. I still see those fingers, those faces…I feel them on me, over me—in me—whenever I close my eyes.” Since leaving the mansion, I hadn’t lied to Cameron. This was just something I’d never told him. I honestly hadn’t known how to. “Will it ever go away?”

  His hands tightened against my cheeks, his thumb pulled my lip out from between my teeth. I’d bitten it so hard I could taste blood. “Charlie…”

  “Will I ever be normal again?” I glanced down to his collarbone. Even though it was covered with a T-shirt, I knew what was tattooed behind that thin cotton. I had memorized the shape of it, and the position each letter held.

  It’s Always Darkest Before The Dawn.

  I had originally thought my darkness had arisen from the pain Lilly had caused. It was only made worse when I lost my Emma, my light. Once Lilly died, I was left with so much resentment, and so many questions surrounding my father and whether she’d withheld his identity from me just to be cruel or if she truly hadn’t known which man had gotten her pregnant. All of that blended with the time I’d spent selling my body to the highest bidder. At some point, I’d even believed that the darkness was really the aftermath of everything, the now, and that once I got through it all I would end up somewhere else—somewhere that shone even brighter. But the more I thought about it, the more I recognized that the only constant among all of those timeframes was sex; it filled a void and numbed the pain. I’d run from the darkness as best I could.

  It had followed along right behind me.

  I didn’t know how to get past it, but I knew Cameron was my dawn, and my hope.

  “How do I fix it?” I asked him. “How do I fix me?”

  “I wish I knew, baby. I really do.” His eyes bore into me. I could feel his concentration in the skin that he squeezed and his lips as they hovered above me, in my breasts as his forearms rested against them. “I promise you this: whatever it takes, we’ll get you there.”

  I wasn’t so sure we would.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE MORNING AFTER I’D FINISHED GARETH’S PIECE, Cameron told me he had come up with a way for me to conquer my past. My question was obviously still on both of our minds. He mentioned it while we were in bed, waking up after just a few hours of sleep. He wouldn’t tell me what his idea was, what he planned to do, or when any of it would take place. But less than a week later, I came home from class and found a box on top of our bed. It was the size and shape of a clothing box, short and flat and wrapped in white paper. Next to the bow was a note with my name written in the center. I figured the gift was from Cameron. But I couldn’t stop the sickness that swirled from my stomach all the way to my throat.

  It was almost exactly how my outfits were presented to me at the mansion: placed in a box with a large bow on top, waiting for me in the back of the limo.

  It had to be from him, I thought. He was the only one present in the apartment who even knew details like this. Still…I couldn’t keep my thoughts from wandering to that placethat house behind the wrought iron gates that whispered seductive shadows over my body. The way Victoria’s eyes had so carefully watched me while I had sat in her dungeon, the way her red acrylic nails would stroke the hardwood of her desk as she waited for my words, my reactions, so she could assess everything all at once.

  I wondered if she was somehow watching me now, from wherever she was.

  You spread your legs for the devil. Of course his mistress is watching you now.

  I pushed Lilly’s voice out of my head, but I didn’t move from the doorway of the bedroom. My hands clung to the molding; my heels pressed into the floor for stability. The mix of emotions that pulsed through me was almost too much. Fear was in the lead…I could feel it clawing its way up my body.

  I rested my forehead against the door. I told myself how silly this was. I knew Victoria wasn’t here, watching me from inside the apartment or through the windows. I would have rested much easier if the authorities had known where she was. But I couldn’t let my uncertainty rule me.

  I forced several deep breaths to steady myself and moved across the room. My palms were sweating, my breathing shallow. I was winded by the time I reached the bed. My fingers shook as I lifted the tab on the envelope and opened the folded black stock of the note inside. It was covered with silver ink and Cameron’s straight, all-caps penmanship.

  THIS IS JUST A LITTLE SOMETHING I PICKED OUT. I’VE BEEN FANTASIZING ALL DAY ABOUT HOW IT’S GOING TO LOOK ON YOUR BODY, AND HOW YOUR SKIN IS GOING TO TASTE WHEN I TAKE IT OFF YOU LATER. BUT LATER WON’T COME FOR A WHILE…I HAVE A WHOLE EVENING PLANNED FOR US.

  MEET ME DOWNSTAIRS AT SIX.

  —CAMERON

  Relief passed through me…but so did a flood of confusion. The box and the bow and the note weren’t just a coincidence. Cameron knew about the limo rides each evening and morning, about the dresses and the notes, about the heels and the masks and the details of my wing in the mansion. During the months at my father’s apartment, we’d had so much time to discuss everything. We’d explored topics that taught us more about each other—our likes and dislikes regarding just about everything, why art was such an important force for us both. The mansion, of course, had come up quite often, and all the activity that happened within. I didn’t know if it was normal to tell a boyfriend those types of things. But what we were experiencing together hadn’t exactly been conventional. I’d felt a welcome sense of relief when I’d finally aired everything to him, even when we analyzed all the mansion’s effortsthe planning and preparation the staff had taken to pamper and please me when their real intention was just to kill me.

  Somehow, it had once again become a nightmare for me.

  My hands didn’t stop shaking. But now that I knew it was from him, my curiosity fueled me. I tore off the bow and lifted the lid of the box, pushing through the tissue paper. I gripped the black fabric and pulled it out of its fold. My eyes roamed over the knee-high dress as it unraveled in the air. It was nothing like one of the gowns the mansion had once supplied. This was elegant and sexy; it would hug my frame and accentuate the small curves I did have. The top was V-shaped, and there were two thin swatches that would run from my shoulders to my waist, barely covering my breasts. The top layer was a black sheer; the bottom was beige satin. A piece of the sheer then wrapped around the waist like a belt, leading to a skirt made entirely of sequins. I dropped the dress on the bed and dug back into the box. Beneath more tissue paper I found a pair of heels. They were the same color as the satin layer of the dress and made of a rich suede, with a basket weave design. Stripes overlapped each other from the back to the middle, leaving an opening for the toes and continuing up past the ankle. The heel was well over three inches.

  I didn’t have to look at the tag on the dress or check the size of the shoes to know they were going to fit. Cameron was meticulous to a fault. It was how I knew that whatever he had planned tonight was going to be special. And I was impressed so far. The dress was stunning, with its open top so revealing. Something told me that was the primary reason he’d picked it.

  I only wore dresses like this to art events; I preferred more professional pieces that were elegant without being overly revealing. I still relied more on accessories rather than the clothes themselves to make a statement; that hadn’t changed since my younger years or while I’d been working at the mansion. But the accessories I now wore were no longer second hand, and neither were my outfits. Their labels were becoming more recognizable.

  The glowing of the clock from Cameron’s nightstand caught my attention. It told me that I only had an hour and a half before I had to meet him downstairs. I left the dress and the shoes on the bed and rushed into the bathroom, yanking off everything that covered my body and turned on the shower to one of the hottest settings.

  ***

  Standing in front of the mirror, I brushed my fingers under my eyes, picking up any of the loose p
owder that had fallen from my lids. I was wearing much more makeup than I usually did. I spent extra time on my eyes since I believed they were my best feature. I’d thickened the liner and extended my lashes with a second layer of mascara. I’d straightened my hair and curled my long chocolate locks around an iron to give them some wave. I hadn’t been this done up and polished in a while—certainly not for any art events I’d attended recently. The last time had been…at the mansion, actually. But this time, it was for a different reason, and a legitimate one: It was for the man I cared about.

  With only five minutes left until I had to meet Cameron, I walked out of the bathroom and moved over to our bed, slipping my feet into the high heels. I wrapped a jacket around me and took the elevator downstairs. As I walked into the lobby, Larry, our doorman, greeted me.

  “Good evening, Miss Charlie,” he said. “You look extra-lovely tonight.”

  Larry had been working in the building long before Cameron had moved in. He knew everyone by name. I’d only had to tell him mine once. He had never forgotten it.

  “Thank you, Larry. It’s nice to see you.” I gave the same sincere smile that came to my face every time I saw him. There was something about his personality that triggered happiness. I enjoyed being in his presence. “I’m supposed to be meeting Cameron down here. Have you seen him?”

  “Follow me, please.” He extended his arm out to me, and I latched my hands around it before he escorted me through the door and to the curb where a black limo was waiting.

  Just like the mansion...again.

  Larry opened the door to the backseat and held my hand as I ducked inside; Cameron was seated on the opposite end. He gripped my free hand, assisting me until I was safely tucked in. It wasn’t entirely a surprise; part of me had expected this to be his ride of choice for the evening.

  “Have a wonderful night, Mr. Cameron, Miss Charlie,” Larry said just before he shut the door.

  “You look gorgeous,” Cameron said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I thanked him for both gifts and he responded by giving me a second kiss. I closed my eyes and took in the scent of him. I smelled his cologne every day; I never grew tired of it. It was a combination of spicy mist and the scent of rain. Those notes mixed with our body wash and fabric softener. But they smelled different on his skin than they did on mine. They were more masculine, more enticing.

  I opened my eyes. “You haven’t even seen me in the dress yet.”

  The jacket I wore came to my knees. The only things he could see were my bare legs, and how the heels looked on my feet. He may have glanced at both, but his stare hadn’t lingered long if so. I never felt his eyes leave mine.

  “I don’t need to,” he said.

  I wondered if he’d notice that I had taken extra time on my hair and makeup. I knew he didthat was just Cameronbut something told me those preparations didn’t matter to him. Despite all the sexy outfits I had worn in our bedroom, he touched me in just the same way when I was wearing unmatched clothes and I was covered in paint.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as the driver pulled away from the curb. Our building rushed by my window.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “No hints?”

  His mouth found mine before I could finish, landing softly at first, teasing the outside of my lips. He ran his tongue between them and gently inserted it. The kiss changed when I felt an urgency and desire pump through his body, electrifying his movements. He yanked me toward him as close as he could get me. As quickly as he’d hauled me to him, he released my face, my mouth, and pulled away. His hand was the only thing that lingered. It fell into my lap, clasping my fingers.

  “I just needed a quick taste of you,” he said, skimming his thumb over his bottom lip to wipe the sticky gloss that now shined on his mouth. “But to answer you: no…no hints. Tonight is going to be layered. This is just one of the many.”

  “What if I told you I was missing a layer?”

  It seemed like a good time to tease him about my lack of undergarments. He hadn’t left any for me in the box, and the dress made wearing a bra impossible.

  “Which one would that be?”

  It was early. I still had plenty of time to taunt him.

  “One that belongs on my body.”

  His other hand returned and two of his fingers caressed my cheek, starting at my ear and traveling all the way to chin. “Are you going to show me?”

  “No. It’s a surprise.”

  He laughed at that…but not as much as I wanted him to. That wasn’t something about him I would have changed: I enjoyed his serious side as much as I enjoyed the moments when he was carefree. I just didn’t want his darkness to be the reason he didn’t laugh often. I believed it was.

  “I’m not a fan of surprises, Charlie.”

  I knew this about him already. So I squeezed the fingers that were still in my lap, giving him the reassurance he needed. “You’re going to love this one.”

  His lips spread into a small grin. He turned and faced the window, squinting and leaning to determine our location and how far we were from our destination. The absence of his eyes finally gave me a chance to check out what he was wearing: A long black pea coat covered his upper half; a gray scarf followed, trailing down toward a pair of dark trousers. He’d gotten a haircut; it was neater and shorter than it had been this morning. The sides were buzzed close to his scalp and the top was left just a little longer, with the strands gelled. I was happy he had left his facial hair alone. I always asked him not to shave; the rough masculine feel and look of his scruff made him even sexier. Cameron was my seductive secret, and there wasn’t anything about him that wasn’t arousing, but this in particular I enjoyed…the way it prickled the inside of my thighs and how it felt against my smooth, hairless folds.

  When he glanced back at me, he caught me staring at him, gazing longingly. I blushed, though it was too dark inside the limo for him to notice.

  “We’re almost there,” he whispered.

  I leaned back into my seat, but I was able to relax for only a few blocks before the limo came to a stop. Cameron moved around me when the driver opened the door so he could exit first. Then he reached for my hand, helping me out onto the sidewalk. My eyes did a quick scan, and I knew exactly where we were: outside of Smoke, one of the most popular galleries in the city, and I had been here several times before. My work hadn’t, though.

  “I thought we’d start with an exhibit,” he said. “One I know you’re going to like.”

  “I already like where I am…and who I’m with.”

  “Then it only gets more perfect from here.”

  Cameron’s hand found my waist, gently guiding me to him as we moved to the main entrance. We hadn’t pulled up directly in front of the building, more to the side, as a swarm of people were huddled outside the double doors. A red carpet had been set up and photographers were snapping pictures of the guests in attendance. It wasn’t all that uncommon for major events. The photos were always printed in the entertainment section of the Boston Globe the next day, as well as in the artsy and indie papers throughout the city.

  “Are you ready to do this?” he asked.

  I didn’t realize I had stopped walking until he’d said that. Then suddenly the implications hit me: if we had our picture taken together it would confirm that we were in a relationship, putting all the rumors that had been floating around town to rest. That was obviously what Cameron wanted. I did, too. It wasn’t that we’d been trying to hide our status; we just hadn’t thought it was anyone else’s business.

  Should it be their business now?

  When I worked at the mansion, I had always been so careful about having my picture snapped. I didn’t want a client to see me outside the house and recognize anything about me— not my voice, or my mouth, or the markings on my body or the tattoos on my hand. I looked at it again. In the middle of my pinky finger, between the folds of my knuckles, was the inked outline of a pink heart. The date of the accident—the one that had ta
ken my Emma from me—was directly above it. I didn’t think I had to worry about anyone recognizing anything anymore; more than seven months had passed since any of those clients had been alone with me, and none of my details were all that memorable. I just didn’t want to be targeted as a victim who had survived and my name to be printed for any reason other than art.

  Cameron stood a few paces in front of me, holding out his hand for me to grab. His beautiful eyes beckoned me.

  Emma’s voice spoke in my head yet again.

  This is okay.

  I exhaled. “I’m ready,” I said.

  Cameron led me down the short sidewalk and around the crowd of observers. There were several security guards standing at the start of the red carpet. Once they noticed Cameron, they unlatched the rope, allowing us to enter. He squeezed my hand during our walk down the carpet and as we neared the top we paused for pictures.

  “How did you make this happen?” I asked. Cameron was a fixture on the art scene, but something about this event said it was more than just a regular opening.

  “An invitation showed up at the studio.” He leaned in and kissed my ear. “Being a celebrity has its advantages.”

  It made me smile, just as flashes of white light flickered before my eyes. My name was being called as much as Cameron’s was—for us to face a certain direction, a specific angle, to stand closer together. There was a change in the air, an intensity, a buzzing that I hadn’t quite felt before. It didn’t just come from standing beside the man who I was now claiming as mine for the world to see, or from the sexuality that oozed from his body, even more so now that he was in the spotlight. It also came from the notion of these photographers knowing who I was…and then telling the rest of Boston about it in the morning.

  Black spots started to fill my vision. I felt Cameron begin to move again, escorting me through the gallery’s main door. Once we were inside, he helped me with my jacket, waiting patiently to lift it off my shoulders as I undid each of the buttons. The air he exhaled swished over my bare skin as he exposed it; goose bumps rose to the very surface of my flesh. The tempo of his breathing changed, and a soft, deep moan came from his lips. It was an intimate moment that only we experienced and I felt it…everywhere. He handed both jackets to the attendant who stood just to the side of the entrance and, with his eyes on me once again, we took a few more steps inside.