The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “Then tell me what to do to take that lost look out of your eye!” she screamed, throwing her arms up in the air.

  I stood in a hurry and turned off the bath taps in anger, stemming the sounds of rushing water bloating my already taxed ear canals.

  Pulling her to me, I held her face and wiped her tears away.

  “You just have to love me.”

  “I do,” she said almost silently.

  “Then let me ride this out and we’ll get there, I promise you.”

  “I worry about you, I can’t help it!”

  “Hold me and everything will be okay.”

  She held me tight around the torso and cuddled her head against my chest, fiercely burying herself into me. Dragging one hand through her hair, I kissed her forehead and rubbed her lower back.

  “You don’t know the world like I do. I’m here to protect you, not the other way around.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, you’re very wrong,” she murmured, “we protect each other. Now, eat your dinner.”

  She turned the taps back on while I tried to enjoy the pizza which was now stone cold and tasteless, like cardboard. I ate it anyway, to make her happy.

  We climbed into the bath together and for a moment, I did feel at peace. But whenever I blinked, I always saw Shay with a bullet in her head, or my team with bullets in theirs.

  And the thought of Ciara, too… of something happening to her…

  “I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt, Ciara. God, I couldn’t bear it,” I moaned, holding her tight to me, pinching her skin so she yelped a little.

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “But there’s a problem, I need some cash, Ciara.”

  “Can’t you–”

  “I know what you’re going to say. We should go to my safety deposit box or withdraw from my offshore.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, we can’t. They’re watching me.”

  “What about–”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even know what I was going to say!”

  “I do. You were going to say my dad, or mum, or…”

  “Teddy.”

  “He doesn’t have the sort of cash I need. I need cold, hard cash. Untraceable.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’ll have to sell the Phantom. Privately. In cash.”

  “People don’t have that sort of cash.”

  “My people do.”

  “I don’t like your people.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “It’s your car. Do what you want with it, as long as we have use of other vehicles.”

  “That we do.”

  “Well, do whatever you want,” she said, sounding grouchy.

  “No need to sound so pissy.”

  “You’re the one who’s horny and frustrated and pissed off.”

  “Yep.” I couldn’t deny I felt all those things and more. Somehow I knew it wasn’t a night for lovemaking. It wasn’t the right mood and she wasn’t ready yet.

  I swished water over her boobs, wishing for her to be ready sooner rather than later.

  “You know, this place is a load of bollocks. Antiquated. Absolute nonsense. When you think about it, men come here to get off and they come here without their wives because they think their wives will be disgusted. Wives think if they dominate their husbands, they’re emasculating them. It’s twaddle. We need to bridge the gap.”

  “Where did all this come from?”

  “It just occurred to me earlier and I think I have an idea.”

  “Go on…”

  “When women come to use the spa here, we should hold optional seminars on implementing BDSM techniques into ordinary, everyday life without pain involved and with pointers on how to please both parties.”

  “You think it could work?” Secretly I doubted it. After all, many men and women didn’t even know they were married to a kinkster.

  “I’ve already asked Amber if she might work through the memberships and send invites to all the wives of current members. Either they come or don’t, it’s up to them. But I want to show them what they can do with their husbands, without feeling ashamed.”

  She sounded convinced and I started to believe it could maybe work. “It’s… different. Do you think it could work?”

  She leant her head back and looked up into my eyes. “What would men rather? The woman they love to be in charge, or some stranger pretending she cares when in actual fact, she’s getting paid for it?”

  “The former,” I managed to say in a croaky voice, “always the former.”

  Her eyes surveyed mine and she read my discomfort. “You’re hard, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, since we are implementing a new wave here, I think we need a new wave in our relationship too. Hence your first lesson is in chastity. You’re not allowed to touch it or me until I say yes.”

  Damned, incorruptible, determined, dominant woman…

  I watched as she got out of the tub and dried, then dressed in her thick pyjamas. She looked down into the bath where I still stood erect and smiled. “Whoops.”

  She left the room, saying over her shoulder, “Just going for hot chocolate.”

  God, she could be a nightmare! I stared at my cock and willed it to deflate. In the end, I had to chuck a bucket of cold water down myself.

  ***

  I lay awake in bed for most of that night, frustrated. She on the other hand didn’t come to bed right away. I went looking for her at one point and instead of hot chocolate, she had hard liquor in her hand in the breakfast room where she and the girls had congregated. I left them to it, not wanting to be outnumbered. They all stayed up until around three, and when Ciara finally came to bed, she didn’t even try to cuddle me. I took it that she was playing hard to get, now she had it in her head that this new wave she had talked about was going to become a big part of our lives.

  However when we woke to the cold light of day, I had to admit her idea about transforming Pernox had merit. Perhaps a new approach would draw a curious crowd.

  “Who will run these seminars you mentioned?” I asked, as we still lay in bed.

  “We thrashed it all out last night and the girls are more than happy to run this for us.”

  “Not… you?”

  She lifted herself up to look at me, smirking. “Seriously?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have the experience for a start.”

  “That’s absolutely the daftest thing I ever heard. You’ve been with me for six years!”

  She laughed with me, covering her eyes with her hands. “Not really. I was just your paid spanker.”

  “Spanker?”

  “It’s a word,” she huffed, rolling her eyes, and rolling over.

  I rolled too, following her to the other side of the bed. Sliding my hands over her lower back as she lay partially on her stomach, I felt her quiver under my touch.

  “You could do it,” I murmured, “I know you could.”

  “I don’t want to, it’s not my place.”

  “What is your place?”

  “With you… and we’re not staying here, remember?”

  “I don’t remember any discussion about the future having been held yet. Unless there’s been some sort of psychic connection going on I haven’t known about…”

  “Well, you mentioned about selling the Phantom so I assumed you meant to take me, or rather us, away.”

  “I’m selling it for cash so I can go and buy some more tech stuff. I need to find the person who stole my business. Until then, I won’t rest. I hope you realise this. I simply can’t rest. I’ll struggle to until we know for sure.”

  She sighed, tired of my constant reminder on this subject. “Dante, why don’t you just let the police–”

  “I told you before, they barely have the budget.”

  “Yeah, but–”

  “No buts. If I’m going to be busy, it might be a good idea for you to be busy,
too. Here is as good a place as any for you to stay busy.”

  “I don’t want to live here.”

  “You don’t have to. You can commute back and forth from Knightsbridge if you wish.”

  “But it’s safer here…”

  “It is, actually.”

  “Gah! I just don’t know.” She threw herself onto her back, tugging hands through her hair in a state of anxiety.

  Placing my finger over her lip, I stared down into her eyes. “Listen to me. I’ll find who did this and fix them up to get caught. In the meantime, you can set about ensuring this place will run itself even after we’re gone. If you believe this new direction will work, I believe in you, so it will work.”

  “And after it’s all over?”

  “We cross that bridge. Anything could happen between now and then.”

  “Dante, I need more than that. What about our wedding? And where will we live?”

  “I don’t know.” I frowned, wondering how she could question my love and commitment, even after everything we’d been through.

  “That’s not good enough for me. You’ve kept me at arm’s length for six years, you owe me more than that.”

  “I can’t give up what I am.”

  Shaking her head, she blushed bright red, her heart hammering hard beneath my chest.

  “I can’t believe you,” she managed, in a croaky voice.

  “I can’t say goodbye to ten years of hard graft. It’s who I am. I’m the fixer. Don’t you see the number of potential cock-ups there are in the world, without me doing this?”

  She swallowed hard, turning her eyes away from mine. A single tear slid down her cheek and I simply couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t deal with it; not her crying, not me giving up something that kept me sane.

  I left the bed and headed straight for the shower, hoping she might eventually join me. She never did, not that morning, and her absence made me feel sick. I despised the loss of her warmth and sweetness.

  When I got back to the bedroom after washing, she was already gone from the room, and when I found her downstairs I saw she’d purposely showered in one of the other rooms – alone – and intent on sending me a message. She ate breakfast with the other girls and I got ignored for the rest of that day and many days after.

  If that was how she wanted to play it, fine.

  I took myself off to sell the Phantom and pick up some new gear. Perhaps it was better I made myself scarce while the girls dealt with the fallout of transforming Pernox from a Pussy Palace as Ciara sometimes termed it, into an educational haven for wives needing some motivation – maybe even some inspiration – when it came to their marital sex lives.

  I doubted the dozens of men who’d relied on Pernox for years would take kindly to a different, nouveau approach to their guilt-free, nightly shenanigans.

  It was a risk, but that was Ciara – she was braver than me.

  Sixteen

  Ciara

  WE SPENT TWO WEEKS MAKING all the arrangements but since I’d had this idea, I’d lived in constant fear it was going to bomb and now this was it. Induction Day.

  Since many of the girls who’d stayed following Shay’s demise didn’t have any sort of beauty therapy qualifications whatsoever, we’d employed new staff and the money we’d already ploughed into this new beginning was a risk. All of it was a risk, in fact.

  “It’ll be fine,” Amber told me, wearing her new uniform, a white tunic like all the other staff. Amber was our new receptionist and me, dressed in a smart suit… I was the manageress. Or at least the manageress for the time being. I planned to get out as soon as we had this place back up and running again.

  “Time to open the doors?” asked Georgiana, who actually did have qualifications in reflexology.

  “Go for it.”

  She opened the main double doors and I saw around twenty women waiting outside, dressed variously, all waiting impatiently.

  Out of 550 invites, fifty had RSVP’d yes and only twenty had actually showed – I counted. I’d been prepared to spread our guests out over a week of inductions, twice daily, but it seemed like this was our only crowd interested.

  The women poured into the house, standing around on the chequerboard floor. Their necks craning, it seemed they were eager to get a look inside the hallowed realm of Pernox, which actually existed beneath ground.

  Once Georgiana checked we didn’t have any loiterers outside, she closed the double doors and I clapped my hands from where I stood, a couple of steps up on the staircase, clinging on to the banister for sanity – for dear life even. God, how I hated public speaking.

  “Good morning ladies and thank you for visiting us on this bright, sunny Saturday morning. It’s a pleasure to welcome you all to the former home of Lord Barlow, now Sinclair’s Spa.”

  As I looked around the room, all I saw were apprehensive faces.

  “First of all, my colleagues will show you around, answer any questions you may have and direct you to whichever therapy rooms you’re most interested in. We have some mandatory forms to fill out should you wish to become a member. As stated in the brochures, we offer the most life enhancing spa therapies out there. However, we do have some other… very exciting extracurricular seminars that we expect to become booked up.”

  The women whispered excitedly among themselves and I saw a couple raise their eyebrows, even smiling.

  “At midday, lunch will be served in the breakfast room and afterwards, you’re free to roam the facilities as you wish, compliments of Mr Sinclair. As a sign of goodwill, there’s a 14-day cooling off period should you sign up for membership. However I guarantee you won’t leave here unsatisfied. Any questions?”

  A redhead wearing a Chanel suit said, “I have a question.”

  Her voice clear and confident, I anticipated she would tell me I was having a laugh and that this was all one, big joke – turning a former dungeon (AKA Pussy Palace) into a spa for ladies who lunched (and needed sex tips on the side).

  “Yes?” I said, trying to seem amenable.

  “Who’s screwing Sinclair? You?”

  I almost snapped with a foul response but she smirked and the look on her face wasn’t one of hate, but of envy.

  “What difference would that make?”

  “Anyone who can keep him entertained is all right.”

  All the women nodded in agreement and I studied them all harder. None of these women avoided my eyes when I looked directly at them; and though they wore different styles, they all wore confidence. The more timid women had stayed home, afraid, but the badasses were here.

  “I tamed Dante Sinclair and then some. He’s been mine for six years and he remains mine. Myself along with any of the girls here can teach you anything you need to know.”

  Lies… lies… lies…

  I was just telling them what they wanted to hear.

  “We don’t want them,” said Red, “we want you.”

  It was clear these women knew about this place and had been told about it by their husbands. They hadn’t shown up to see the interior; they wanted the full package. Word got around and boy, I hoped it spread even further than just this pack of twenty.

  “Why me?” I asked the audience.

  “He was legendary,” Red said, “not only with his big penis, but his skills… his bed hopping. Suddenly it stopped and therefore we can only surmise you were the reason. We want to know your secrets. The woman to tame him… she can tame anyone.”

  I could hardly admit that it was never me who tamed him – but Shay. Still, I’d take the plaudit for the time being.

  I folded my arms, smiling. A deep, inner-insecurity inside me screamed: You are twenty-five for fuck’s sake, go get rat-arsed in a local watering hole and sack off these old-marrieds.

  I felt far too young for this and yet, all these women were looking to me – for help. For sanctuary even, maybe. A place they could air their insecurities, their fears and doubts. No matter the age, I knew people never developed confidence overnig
ht – it was earned over long, difficult periods of time. I suddenly thought about all the horses I’d broken in as a youngster, but I’d not even told Dante about my life before him yet. Why would I start telling these strangers? Anyway, it seemed to me that breaking in men was akin to breaking in horses… taming them until they knew their place, their mainstay. Even though you loved them, it was necessary to be cruel to be kind. Was Shay the fake Mistress – and was I, now, the real thing? Somehow, I didn’t think so. I felt the fraud. I was here simply because Dante liked something about me. Probably the way I looked.

  So I decided to lie… and fake it. Make these women think I had it all, when what I really had was a man bunking off – doing whatever he did when he went commando. Since he’d slunk off to sell the Phantom, he’d not come back and that was almost two weeks ago.

  “The trick is to get into their minds. You can make them do anything once you’ve mastered that.”

  Red and her pals all turned to one another, whispering behind hands, nodding and agreeing they wanted in on this – badly.

  I caught Georgiana’s eyes and she looked more than amused that I was being targeted by all these women as their teacher.

  “We’re in,” Red said, “sign us all up. We don’t want the spa crap, though. Just whip training, or whatever it is you can teach us!”

  I halted their excited voices with my raised hand. “You do know we are listed as a spa and that you will all have to sign up as spa members? You may as well take the treatments, too. In fact if you are going to become skilled in using whips… and all our other tools, you’ll need therapy afterwards. You’ll learn how to use muscles you never even knew you had.”

  “Okay…” they all said in communion.

  “When I’ve done with you all, you’ll leave this place six inches taller, knowing how to bring a man to his knees with nought but your time and effort. I was taught by the best, and you’ll all become the best. You might even want to use your skills on men other than your husbands… and your husbands might be hard at the thought of watching.”

  The room burst out laughing and I caught Amber even having a laugh behind her hand – Amber whose loyalty still lay with Shay, her former boss. Georgiana, though Shay’s ex-lover, was kinder and sweeter and probably had to be in order to forgive Shay all her shortcomings.