Unhinged

by Pamela Ann

  Half a bottle of red wine later, I was set on my stilettos, ready for a night of somewhat tame debauchery, aiming to seduce a man who wasn’t so keen on any sort of seduction coming from me. Alas, I was tipsy, randy, and ready to live out my fantasy.

  The ride from my flat in Tottenham Court Road to The Ritz was a series of nervous flutters, derogatory remarks aimed solely at myself, and images of the worst case scenario possible. It wasn’t an easy journey to be in quite frankly, yet at the same time, I knew I had to mentally prepare myself for his rejection since he hadn’t been exactly that warm and accommodating towards me earlier on.

  Therefore, with my faux brazenness in hand, I strutted my way into the hotel’s foyer with the confidence of a runway model, channeling Chantel’s je-nais-sais-quoi attitude before giving my name to the chic hotel attendant.

  “Mr. Xavier is expecting you, Miss Callas. Benoît is the head of Mr. Xavier’s security and should be down here to get you shortly,” she kindly informed me with a smile. “Can we get you a glass of champagne while you wait?”

  Another dose of alcohol? Yes, please. I needed as much Dutch courage as I could gather.

  “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  After I was handed my glass, I barely had less than a minute after my first sip when I saw the familiar face that used to give me kind smiles. Our conversations had been mostly limited, but I always knew he was a good man. It was in the air he carried himself, always so self-assured and fairly reasonable when it came to dealing with the rest of the household staff.

  “Benoît, it’s nice to see you again.” Greeting him with a smile, I almost had the gall to give him the typical air kisses, but when I motioned to do so, I saw him tense, making me profusely blush and halt in the process. I had totally forgotten how reserved he was, and since I was practically his boss’s ex-lover, it wouldn’t be deemed appropriate. Still, I couldn’t dampen my enthusiasm from seeing him, so even though I was blushing mad, I was brimming with glee.

  “Miss Callas, always a pleasure,” he greeted me with the heart-warming smile. Gesturing with his hand, he gave me a pointed look. “Shall we?”

  Taking his lead, I followed him along as my ears perked up at the sound of my clicking heels that went with ever stride I took.

  “How’s your family? Everything is well, I hope?” One thing I knew about this man was how he cherished his wife and children.

  Entering the lift, he pressed the button and waited for the doors to close before finally responding to me. “They are perfectly well and healthy, thank you for asking. And you, how is London treating you? It looks like it’s treating you well enough.”

  “More or less. It’s been great, I suppose.” A flash of memory of Damen’s hurt face came out of nowhere, unsettling me a little.

  “That’s very good to hear, Miss Callas.”

  Lost in my own thoughts, my fears, and the disconcerting way Damen seemed to have bubbled out of the blue, the elevator dinged our arrival much too soon. Licking my lips as I heard Benoît clear his throat before exiting the lift, I trotted a few steps behind him, nervous as a kitten on a hot tin roof.

  “The boss is right through the door,” Benoît instructed the second we reached the daunting door.

  Flushed, I directed him a tight smile. “Thanks…”

  “Try not to let him intimidate you. He’s a good man,” he kindly reminded me, regaining my ultimate purpose for being here tonight.

  Feeling a little better, I released a breath. “I know. I quite know he is.”

  His brow rose. “Alors then, what are you waiting for?” He obliged me with an encouraging smile.

  Seriously? Hadn’t I been vigilantly praying for this moment to happen? So, what in the world was wrong with me? Whatever happens tonight, I will not allow myself to regret a damn thing, I quietly vowed to myself.

  “Bonne nuit, Benoît.”

  “Bonne nuit,” he whispered with a bow before leaving me to my own devices.

  Gripping the stem of the champagne flute, I used my free hand to open the door. Then I held my breath and gradually made my way inside the lavishly styled penthouse suite.

  Well, here goes nothing … or everything.

  “Isobel.”

  I heard my name echo across the room, making the hairs on the back of my neck salute to the owner of the voice’s attention.

  Taking a deep breath, I took a moment to search for him in the dim lighting, finally spotting him leaning next to the curtain, looking sexy as fuck.

  God, Hugo, you’re killing me. Literally. How in the bloody hell would I survive tonight if I could barely breathe just from gazing at him?

  I wanted him like I had never wanted anything in my life. Forbidden fruit, I sure hoped he wasn’t.

  Chapter 7

  Isobel

  “Hugo,” I uttered, sounding more like a desperate, sex-starved moan than anything. Bloody Hell, I needed to get it together.

  Unmoving from his rather compelling, sexy post, he cocked his head to the side, as if surveying my outfit and all that was amply displayed for his pleasure. “I must say, you look rather … different since I saw you this afternoon.”

  The emphasis on the word felt more like it was jab at me. I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t come over to greet me, his serious display of aloofness that got to me, or maybe it was the alcohol that was provoking my thoughts, but I felt somehow reckless.

  “Different … good? Or different bad?” My question meant to tease him so he could slowly warm towards me, but somehow, the effect was the opposite of what I had expected.

  “Is this what Damen enjoys seeing you wear these days?” he asked in a derisive manner.

  Ah, I knew he was going to head towards the inevitable, didn’t I? There was the harshness about him that was present earlier today, but tonight, there was something else there. Was it contempt or disgust? Either way, it didn’t fail to make me feel cheap and surprisingly defensive.

  “A woman should dress to entice the man she fancies, should she not?”

  “So let me get this straight. You were with Damen before coming here, right? Why didn’t you let lover boy tag along? I’d love to meet the man of your dreams, Isobel.”

  Why must he be so difficult? Why must he start with verbal attacks before I even had the chance to warm up for battle? Bloody fuck, he wasn’t making it easy at all.

  “I didn’t come to see you to discuss Damen, Hugo. I’d rather leave that subject alone.”

  “Nothing’s changed with you, always directing what I can and cannot do.” He snorted before taking several determined strides to reach the bar without glancing at me.

  Pouring himself a glass from the crystal decanter, he instantly demolished its contents while I watched his throat bob up and down, hypnotized by the kind of sexy display of simply being himself.

  Slamming the glass down, he then directed a hard glare at me. “What can I do for you, Isobel? If you needed money, you had a number to call without desperately needing to request my presence.”

  “Money?” I squeaked, confused with his question. “Why would I need money? You’ve given me plenty of it.”

  “I did, didn’t I? That’s the kind of bastard I am.”

  “Hugo—” I said in a frustrated tone, while all of my collected confidence started to gradually crack. “I didn’t come here to fight or argue with you. I simply—”

  “Then why the fuck are you here, huh?” he hurled the words at me, making me momentarily tense on the spot.

  “I…” I trailed off, too petrified to even ask him anything, let alone follow through with what I had planned. He obviously hated me, and I finally realized that, no matter what I said from here on, he would have a sharp rebuttal.

  “You what?” he pressed on, impatient.

  I flinched. What was I thinking? I was deluding myself by believing he could still feel something towards me.

  “I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’ll be on my way out.” I was about to move
away when I saw him snap like he was finished reeling his true feelings in and was ready to launch on a verbal attack. Seeing the hard shift in him, I immediately shuddered inside.

  “Take one further step, Isobel, and you won’t like the consequences,” Hugo threatened with a succinct tone, freezing me on the spot.

  I had never felt like a student being reprimanded by the head mistress until this moment. Instead of a mistress, though, this experience came in the form of a dark, beautiful, powerful, ruthless, devil may care man.

  With both of his hands in his pockets, he took his sweet time to come to where I stood frozen, awaiting his next barking command. Each step he took brought him closer to me, and I couldn’t help my body’s reaction, making me pant a little. The quickness of my breaths merely brought my chest to the forefront of his attention. Once he reached me, he didn’t stop until he made a slow circle around me like a shark would to gauge its prey, trapping it and at the same letting them know they were running out of time, that it was going to go for the kill.

  Heightened senses, prickled skin, stampeding heart—my body felt like a chain of one reaction to another. I felt his gaze dissect me like a specimen, taking in every inch of me. Every ounce of skin and every curve on display, he took in with calculated eyes.

  Then, the moment he stopped doing his intimidating dance, I knew deep down that I was weakened by his presence and his tactile intimidation. I was in awe and at the same time full of trepidation. Exhilaration.

  “Why are you here?” he rasped out, borderline hissing. The second he stopped, he gazed at me darkly, warily.

  Our eyes clashed, and for a beat, I wanted to cower, but I knew I owed this man so much. Besides, if I didn’t do this now, I would always wonder, what if. There was nothing more fearsome than the words what if. Must I torture myself another day with the taunting words, or should I take action tonight? Of course, I had to choose the latter.

  Come what may.

  Consequences be damned.

  Regaining my purpose, I stared at him, showing him my shredded pride. “You and I, we didn’t have proper closure. After I left, I’ve been regretting not giving you what you’ve always wanted from me.” Without disconnecting from his gaze, I braved on. “I’m willing to give you everything you want, Hugo, if you give me this one night. That’s all I ask. Maybe, after this, I can truly get on with my life.”

  He took a sharp breath with a face that resembled a mask—no emotions whatsoever.

  “What if I tell you that I don’t want you, Isobel? What then?” he said in a manner that was neither callous nor nice.

  His revelation took me by surprise. I hadn’t seen this coming, because … why? Why didn’t I see this angle at all?

  “You don’t want to have sex with me anymore?” I chided myself for being too caught up in my own merry dreams. I had thought his craving for me wouldn’t dissipate after a little over two months. Apparently, it fucking had. Fuck.

  “I don’t desire other men’s spoils, most especially the ones who have obviously been used recently.”

  “I beg your pardon? Are you saying that I look like a whore?” I was simmering in my own world of stupidity.

  How the hell was I going to handle his rejection and barbed shots at my expense? With a round of applause? Of course not.

  “I don’t recall ever saying you’re a whore.” He shrugged, as if he couldn’t care any less.

  “But you implied it!”

  “If the shoe fits…”

  Bloody shenanigans. “This was clearly a mistake. Forget I said anything!”

  I was done being made a fool of. It was one thing to offer sex to a man. It was another when the damn bloke blatantly dismissed you sexually because he thought you were a used up trollop.

  I was all shades of mortification. I couldn’t even cohesively think of a bitchy retort. Instead, I was readying to exit along with the rest of my shame.

  “Changed your mind already?” he teased the second he saw I was set to leave his glorious presence.

  “You have insulted me in the most callous of ways, so do you really expect me to stay here for another minute longer while you can grant me more hurtful words?” I was on the verge of tears, but my battered ego wouldn’t dare let him see me shed a tear.

  “Well, that depends … on how determined you are to have my cock fuck you, ma belle.”

  I stared at him, blinking rapidly while my frown deepened by the second. “But you just said you didn’t want me!”

  How did he master that unemotional look, as if nothing could touch him?

  “Use your imagination, Isobel. You can start with making me want you again.”

  Okay, I could do that, right? It was simple science, or was it? Was I capable enough of making a man so aroused he would forget that he had another woman waiting behind one of these doors, a woman who, without a doubt, probably was a master of seduction and knew how to get him yearning with a flick of her tongue? Maybe that was it—the tongue. What man would decline a good sword flirting with a warm, accommodating, and yet overly eager-to-please kind of tongue?

  As if knowing where my thoughts were heading, Hugo immediately dismissed them. “No, don’t get on your knees.”

  “Then how do you suppose I achieve it, Hugo? Tell me what you want.” Nervous, I closed the gap between us. The moment my nose hit the scent of his aftershave, I was a heaping, quivering mess.

  It wasn’t surprising that he never responded to my question. It should have stopped me. Should have were the operative words. Yet, my heady senses were awakened, and there was no way of switching them off. I was hot, wet, and too bloody desperate to lick him to back away.

  Past caring that he was silent and still, I gently rubbed the side of my cheek against the growing stubble across his skin, all the while whiffing his masculine scent that was making my body go into overdrive. Without wasting a beat, my greedy hand cupped the jewels between his legs, making me purr in the process.

  “Your cock is hard, Hugo.”

  “It is, but don’t be so arrogant as to assume that it is you it is throbbing for.” His hot breath tickled my ear, sending tingles all the way down to my core, making my pussy fill with its hot essence.

  Well, if it wasn’t for me, to Hell with it all. My hand found it first, so it was mine for the taking.

  Finders keepers, or so they say.

  Not letting go of his sensitive erection, I playfully toyed with his delicate balls before he let out a frustrated groan.

  “Isobel…” he hissed out my name, making me feel like I was slowly championing him.

  “Tell me, Hugo,” I delightfully purred in his ear, “how can I make this cock want me? How can I make it want to fuck me?” I found the base of his shaft before circling it with my thumb and forefinger, gripping it with a hard squeeze. “I want this inside me all night. I desperately want you in me.”

  “We shall see, shall we, ma belle?” he quipped back with a playful laugh, unwilling to give in to me just yet.

  My sweet, sexy, fiery Hell, how he liked to punish me so.

  “Take your clothes off…” he trailed off seductively. “Then come into the bedroom in five minutes.”

  The pent up frustration and excitement I had before immediately dashed out of my system. “But—”

  He raised his brow as if to taunt me further.

  “But she’s in there. I mean, you can’t expect me to…” My heart sped up, banging wildly against my chest as the idea dawned on me.

  “But I do, Isobel. It’s up to you if you want to or not.” His eyes were like black diamonds, glittering before me: beautiful, hard, and cold. “It’s your choice.”

  “A choice? It isn’t much, is it?” I squeaked out, knowing too well I was so out of my depth and didn’t know how to handle this type of sticky situation.

  He barely shrugged, a little impatient. “It’s the only one I am willing to give you. So, if you don’t come and join us in five minutes, then I shall take that as your answer. My feeling
s wouldn’t be hurt, so no need to worry about that.”

  It was too late to change my mind. I was too aroused, much too dazed from the velvety touch of his rock hard length thrusting into my palm. Walking out wasn’t an option. Hugo had become the drug I needed a large dose of, and I would get him to want me, one way or the other.

  Chapter 8

  Isobel

  The bedroom seemed more daunting as the seconds ticked by. I stared after him, watching him walk through the door before shutting it behind him, leaving me staring, flummoxed in his wake.

  I had made my choice, and I would go through with it. Shameless or not, I fancied him, and if this was the only way I could acquire him and end this never-ending hankering need, then so be it.

  The first request was for me to prance in there naked. What then? Did I simply join in or fight for his attention? Bloody Hell, how did one succeed in those sorts of things? Whatever. One must learn how to take action as it progressed, and hopefully, he would favor me over her. And if it turned out the other way around, well, I would be eternally damned. I doubted my confidence would ever recover, but I was willing to risk it all for him … for me.

  All righty, then, I thought, attempting to ground myself.

  Clearing my throat, I shakily took one stiletto off then the other. Once I had accomplished stripping my feet bare, I then took off my dress, hesitation never once crossing my mind. Stepping out of the red, slinky number, I was left in my lace undergarment.

  Should I take it off now or wait until I was inside? Then again, if I waited and they had already gotten down to business, what did I do then? Should I participate or vacate?

  Fuck, Isobel, I chided myself for even questioning such irrelevance because I must do what I could to accomplish my plan. If I had to kick a bitch off a bed, then so I would. No compromises.

  Trivial worries finally settled, I barely blinked when I shimmied myself out of the last scrap of clothing. I wasn’t particularly shy about my body, but I wasn’t one to strut my stuff with confidence, either, most especially when naked. Well, tonight, one must strip all of her inhibitions to succeed. Literally.