by Sara Forbes
“Touché. But I’m walking. It’s not far.”
“That’s settled then.”
My heart’s going pitter patter an hour later. Felix and I are taking a leisurely stroll to the garage, shoulders bumping as we weave through the throng of shoppers although, by unspoken agreement, we don’t hold hands. Under the guise of checking my calls, I take a furtive look at the Bitcoin price on my phone. It’s still what it was.
“Belkov’s really angry now,” Felix says. “His car’s totaled. You have to be on a waiting list to get the Porsche 911 R. It’s limited edition. They don’t just sell ‘em to anyone. Well, it’s going to be a while before the boys at Porsche let him back on the list because they only want to sell to reputable customers.”
“There’s a list to be able to buy a Porsche?” I shake my head. “Talk about first world problems. Your world, not mine.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
In the garage, the stout mechanic, an American expat with a shock of red hair gives an amused look at the car. “You kids been partying hard?” he asks jovially.
“You could say that,” Felix says.
The mechanic’s eyes rove over us, probably smelling money. “Well this is gonna take a while. And it’ll cost ya.”
“Aw, man, I was hoping you’d do it for free.”
“Cash or check?” the mechanic asks, his face hardening into a not amused expression.
Felix cocks an eyebrow. “Do you accept Bitcoin?”
The mechanic exhales loudly and targets his full glare on Felix.
Felix sighs. “I guess you kids aren’t ready for that yet. Then cash it is.”
Felix is in some weird mood, that’s for sure. He’s not even trying to charm people, rather the opposite. Maybe he’s nervous about his big Bitcoin selloff tonight or tomorrow. Maybe he’s pissed off with me for walking off on him yesterday.
“It’ll be ready in two weeks,” the mechanic, says.
“That’s fine.”
“So, what about that dinner?” I ask, slipping my arm into the crook of his elbow, tugging him away. “I don’t think you’re making friends here. He’s probably charging you double just for that.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Felix says.
“Let’s go to my hotel,” I say.
“Sure?”
“Yep,” I confirm. “Privacy…to talk.”
He grins. “A rogue like me?”
Despite myself, I smile “Rogue is right. I’ve read all about you and your string of broken hearts.”
He sighs. “You can’t believe everything you read.”
“So, you haven’t broken those women’s hearts?”
“Some of them didn’t have hearts to begin with.”
“Maybe you just didn’t give them a chance?”
“I did.” And here he gives me a look that’s tender and serious all at once. “I know the difference, Cara.” It makes my heart give a skip, and then a somersault, making me forget about everything except the happy light feelings that have been making my stomach fluttery since the moment I woke up and knew I’d be seeing him today.
I wait for more, but he doesn’t elaborate. What does he mean it’s different? What’s different? Him? Me? This situation? Something else entirely?
Wait. I’m overthinking this. More to the point, I’m falling into his trap. I need for him to fall into mine. At my hotel, he’ll be in my territory where I can keep a good eye on him for the next fifteen hours. He’ll be away from his laptop. I figure I can keep him occupied.
Then, before he gets any notions about calling anyone, it’ll be out with the sleeping drug and Cara will save the day.
It’s not much of a plan but it’s all I got.
We wander out into the sunshine and stroll along the seafront on the scenic route to my hotel. We sit on a bench drinking strawberry milkshakes from a little refreshments stand. A furtive glance at my phone tells me that Goodman has tried to call me twice. I can’t blame him. He’s as pent up as I am. But I’m going to ignore him. Bitcoin is at $14330. That’s good. Goodman is happy as long as it stays over 13k.
“I didn’t lie yesterday, you know,” Felix says suddenly, twisting the spoon across his fingers like a baton. It glints in the late afternoon sunlight.
“What?”
“About those girls on the street? The ones Belkov almost ran over? One of them contacted the police yesterday and gave her version of the story. It fits with mine.”
“That’s great.” I smile and pat his forearm. “Look, for what it’s worth, I believed you from the get-go. I can tell a bluff when I see it. Just as you can. Which is another skill you possess.”
“Another skill?” he asks.
“Yeah, that and your quick reflexes. I’ve watched you play poker long enough to see that you’re soaking in information that’s barely visible to others.”
“Keep going, Mademoiselle Cole. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
If only it were that easy.
We continue on to my hotel. Every female head turns in our direction as I walk through the lobby with him. It makes me feel stupidly proud.
When we reach my room I’m glad for its cleanliness and elegant, if somewhat faded, furnishings. I’ve stayed in a lot worse. He surveys the room and nods approvingly.
“What do you say to room service dinner?” he asks.
“Sounds great.”
He takes my jacket and hangs it up. As we face each other, I have déjà vu. Shouldn’t he kiss me now? Why doesn’t he? Has he lost interest? In that case, I may have no choice but to drug him sooner.
He backs away and settles on the bed, plumping up the pillows. While he’s occupied with that, I place my purse on the writing desk. I slip the vial out of my purse and stow it behind the base of a table lamp. It’ll be within easy access when I go to mix drinks. It’s chloral hydrate—exactly what they were using in Dad’s beloved old movies where people would slip a “Mickey Finn” into a drink to knock someone unconscious. It’s a mixture of chloral hydrate and alcohol and has been around since the eighteen hundreds. It’s about the oldest synthetic drug. Dad was the one who introduced it to me although I don’t think he ever used it himself.
“Tell me more about you,” Felix says.
I swing around. “W-what would you like to know?” I say sweetly.
He shrugs. “Anything. Whatever you can tell me. You work for some agency, you got your secrets. I know you’re investigating me just like you investigated my brother. In his case, because he contacted a Venezuelan. In my case… I dunno. Because I’m a big gambler? Last I heard, it was legal in the places I attend.”
Wow. He has some nerve pretending not to know why I’m investigating him. Maybe it’s something to do with the fact that he’s one of the richest men in the world? And he likes to screw people over with his power? But I don’t say that.
“Maybe Belkov hired me,” I say deadpan.
He laughs. “Well, whatever, I trust you’re a decent person. I trust you like me. That’s something, right?”
“Yeah. That’s something;” I breathe. I can’t panic. I just have to be really, really careful. I’m sweating all over. I should be charming him, distracting him the old-fashioned way, and yet the thought of going up to him and throwing myself at him just to deceive him…is making me sick to my stomach.
“But I would like to know something,” Felix says.
I brace myself.
“You didn’t sleep with my brother, did you?
I laugh in relief “Jack? No!”
“He’s the good looking one.”
He’s so wrong. I duck my head to hide my grimace. How do I say this? “Well, Mia seemed to have first dibs on him. She had eyes for nobody else; it was clear from day one. And vice versa.”
“Good.” Felix shifts his position, scowling. He rises, and strides toward me. “It wouldn’t have been a good match.”
“Unlike you?” I say, shooing him backward, eager to get him away from the minibar are
a.
Lightning fast, he clutches my upper arms. “I’m a terrible catch. The very worst kind.”
“I know,” I say, breathless. Our gazes lock, and I forget to breathe as he searches my face. He releases my arms again. I can’t do this. I can’t get my head in a space where I seduce him. I break off the gaze.
“Drinks?” I ask in a much too high voice as I back toward the mini-bar.
“Sure, why not.” He retreats a step. I catch a look of confused hurt in his eyes and I’m sorry for it. Could this be any more awkward? “I’ll get going on the menu.”
“Yeah, great.”
I open the bottle and pour two glasses of Dom. It’s the most expensive one according to the price-list so it might be up to his standard. It cost more than the drug I intend pouring into it.
With shaking fingers, I fumble around the base of the lamp, take the vial and slowly unscrew the top. I feel the urge to whistle a tune, or make some noise, but for the life of me I can’t think of a damn thing to say.
Luckily Felix is preoccupied with food.
“The steak au poivre sounds good,” he muses.
“Yes,” I say, pouring the vial’s contents into his glass. There’s no going back now. “Can you see any vegan options?” That’ll keep him busy looking at the menu because there are no vegan options—I already checked.
“But you’re not vegan,” he says.
“No, but just in the mood I guess.”
As predicted, his head is bent over the menu, totally engrossed in this task. I tread over the soft carpet, bearing both glasses feeling like I’m in a Shakespearean play, one where people get poisoned and they all die in the end.
Right glass, not left. Right glass, not left.
“Found anything?” I say, nodding at the menu. “How about an appetizer?”
I sit beside him at the end of the bed, hand him the right-hand Champagne flute with barely a quiver.
My own cold-bloodedness shocks me.
“To us.” I say, angling my glass to clink against his.
“To us.”
My face feels tight as I smile back. I try not to stare as he takes a drink of the fizzling Dom. It should take about thirty minutes from this point. Not that I’ve ever done a trial run.
The weight of his blue-eyed stare is almost unbearable.
He hands the menu to me. “You fancy some risotto?”
“Yeah, it’s a good option,” I say, barely glancing at the menu.
I jump up. “I’ll just go call in the room service.” I pad towards the phone at the far end of the desk and call in the food. I draw out the process by asking for complicated adjustments to side orders. Anything to kill time. Felix looks amused as I return to him at the foot of the bed.
He balances his empty Champagne flute on my thigh, sliding the glass up and down my bare skin where my skirt falls away. He pushes the skirt up to reveal more of my leg. Then he puts the glass aside and runs his hand over the skin he’s cooled with the glass. His fingertips inch forward until he reaches my panties where he draws tiny circles against the fabric, exactly at my most sensitive, vulnerable spot.
I shudder and let out an involuntary moan.
He keeps going with the same circular caress, waking me up again. I’m so needy. I’m clenching my legs and arching my back.
“You’re so wet,” he says. “Again.”
I nod, my face blazing with shame. Shame for what I’ve done and the situation I’m in. I shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy this. He’ll hate me forever. But I don’t want him to stop.
“I have a better idea,” I say suddenly, taking his hand away. I fall to my knees on the carpet and smooth my arms up his shins and over his knees. “I’ve wanted to do this all day,” I tell him. It’s the truth and if I’m pleasuring him, I won’t feel so guilty.
“Oh God,” he says in a choked voice.
He shucks off his pants and I help drag the boxer briefs over his hard, erection. His cock is beautiful, a sight to behold. I lick my lips and bring them to kiss his head and then slowly take him into my mouth, deeper and deeper. His eyes grow soft in his pleasure, his eyelids flickering with each hard suck. I caress him, stroke him, gripping the base of his shaft tight, following the rhythm of his gentle thrusts until he’s compelled to grip my hair tighter, losing control. I love this moment, watching him unable to resist the demands of his body. Watching the unflappable poker king come undone.
“Cara, oh Cara,” he grunts as he pumps wilder and faster. “I’m close. I’m so…c-close.”
But I don’t move away. I want to take him. He jerks one more time, his muscles straining and I feel the shoot of hot salty cum in my throat as he growls out hoarsely, “fuck me.”.
“Thank you,” he says when I release him.
He pulls me to his mouth and kisses me hard and deep.
Then he slumps back onto the bed, face down in the pillow and lets his arm loll over the side.
I get up and tip toe over for a better look.
His sleeping face is angelic.
I don’t feel sorry for him; he’s gone out the most pleasurable way known to man. He may even forgive me tomorrow.
Even if I never forgive myself.
This is my job. This is why I’m here. I have a duty to perform and it’s not sliding between the sheets with this Adonis.
I go into the bathroom and call Goodman. “He’s out.” I say in a half whisper. “I’ve done it. There’ll be no action from him. How’s it looking on your end?”
“Oh, you fantastic girl,” Goodman says, “You are your father’s daughter to be sure. That’s one less worry.”
I swell with pride. “What’s the price at?”
“Fifteen K, just above it.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. “That’s awesome.”
“My clients will be very contented indeed. Certainly, all will be relieved.”
“That’s wonderful. Well, I better not hang on. I need to check my sleeping beauty in case he wakes and has a fit.”
“We’ll talk after nine a.m. my time when the coast is clear.”
As I come out of the bathroom, I see Felix’s blazer hanging on the wall hook. I reach inside the pocket. His phone. It’s not encrypted. I check the phone log. Last calls were to Jack. Then a load of English numbers. They look like business numbers. Hotels, cabs, maybe. I take photos of the list going back six months.
I check for Bitcoin apps. None whatsoever. Sweating, I swipe the gadgets clear of fingerprints. Not that I think he’ll check, but you never know.
I’m done here. I just need to pack up so I’ll be ready to head out that door come nine a.m., and fast. I tiptoe around the corner to get my clothes from the wardrobe.
A hand flies out and roughly grips my wrist. “Gotcha.”
12
FELIX
CARA LETS OUT AN ear-splitting-shriek. And I mean ear-splitting.
“What the fuck?” she yells. “How?”
I hold her arms in place and stare at her, through her. I see the glint of terror in the dark eyes, the speculative sizing up of our positions. She’d attack me if she could. Some kind of self-defense move, no doubt, but I have all the advantage of size, strength, and preparedness. She’s trapped and she knows it.
“It’s kind of depressing,” I say. “I’d really hoped for this evening to have an alternate ending, maybe by my reciprocating? But no.”
“How?” she demands flatly.
“Oldest trick in the book. Spat out the champagne while you were fiddling with the hotel phone. What the hell was that anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter. God, I’m so stupid,” she spits, and wriggles once more.
“I’m not letting you go,” I tell her.
“You have to.” Her chin tilts up defiantly.
“Not until I get to the truth.”
“Oh, the truth,” she grunts. “Well you’re the expert on that.”
“When have I ever lied to you?”
She gives an incredulous laugh. “
“When haven’t you? Look at you. Your whole persona—the playboy card player. When all you’re really doing is covering up for the billions you’re moving around on the Bitcoin market, ruining other people’s lives!”
“Well, you liked me as that persona. Admit it.”
She frowns. “No. What? What do you care?”
“I just want to hear it.”
She casts her gaze downward. “I couldn’t like someone who’s motivated by greed, who tramples over the small people just for fun, no. So, just let me go.”
“I have to decide what to do with you first.”
“Well. Decide then!”
“I could make you drink the rest of that vial of whatever it is.”
She gasps and looks at me, wide-eyed.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Or, should I say, don’t worry if you’re prepared to just tell me the truth.”
She relaxes a fraction.
She’s not the first woman to try the sleeping drug trick on me and that last time didn’t work out too well for me. I had stomach ache for a week afterwards.
I let go of her wrists and slide my hands over her hips.
“I’m not carrying a weapon,” she says.
“That’s not what I’m checking.” I slide my hands around her waist and up her sides. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m still angry as hell with her. But I want her to acknowledge that this feels damn good, and that she wants me.
Her breasts swell instantly under my touch. Two hardened peaks greet my wandering fingers. It takes all my self-control not to rip off her top and explore the body underneath, the body that’s crying out for attention.
Oh yes, she wants me.
I look into her flushed face. Her nostrils flare as she holds my gaze. She’s angry that she can’t deny the effect I have on her. It’s my revenge. If I had any sense, I’d walk out of here leaving her in a pool of desire and never come back. But leaving her is impossible because I want her as much as she wants me.
I reach and take her purse and search it, in case she’s carrying a gun. She makes no move to stop me. There’s nothing metallic in there anyway.
I toss the purse onto the bed. “You’re all clear.”
I’m itching to lay my hands on her again. But more than that, I want her mind. I want her to open up to me. To stop the game playing for once and for all because I’m sick of it. I know that beyond this mess of other people’s making, she actually feels something genuine for me.