Behind Closed Doors m&f-1

by Shannon McKenna

  She was met at the dock, not by Clayborne, but by a stunning brunette with hazel eyes who introduced herself as Mara. They passed right by the main stairway that led to the second floor office, to Raine's bewilderment. “But aren't I— doesn't Clayborne need me in the office?”

  “Clayborne's not here. None of the office staff are here.” Mara started up a spiral staircase, which led up to the tower bedroom that had once been her mother’s. Raine's apprehension climbed a notch.

  “Then why did Mr. Lazar tell me—”

  “Ask him, not me.” Mara pushed open the bedroom door.

  The room was brilliantly lit with a makeup mirror. A rack of plastic-covered clothes hung in front of the bed. Raine turned to Mara, bewildered. “But Victor told me he had a project he wanted—”

  “You're the project, honey,” said a thin, short-haired woman. She and the plump white-haired lady beside her rose to their feet, eyes narrowing as their professional instincts leaped to life. “Out of that horrible outfit, and into the shower, please. We've got to get your hair shampooed so I can blow the curls out.”

  Raine shook her head. “But I—”

  “Just do it,” Mara said flatly. “There's a huge party tonight You’ve got to look good, so let's get on with it”

  “But—”

  “You do have contact lenses with you, don't you?” Mara asked.

  “Ah, yes, I have them in my purse, but—”

  “Thank God.” The white-haired woman rolled her eyes and began unraveling Raine's braid.

  There was no stopping them. They plucked, steamed and peeled, massaged and moisturized her. Her hair was washed, conditioned, rinsed, trimmed, dried, straightened. It seemed a waste of energy to resist. It was part of Stone Island’s spell. Part and parcel of the bizarre transformation she underwent, day by day.

  Even the lingerie was provided. It was the most beautiful stuff she'd ever seen—midnight blue lace panties, lace-trimmed thigh-high stockings. She looked around for a bra, but Mara shook her head.

  “Not with the dress you'll be wearing. You won't need one.”

  “Me?” Raine looked nervously down at her bare chest, trying to imagine what kind of dress she could possibly wear braless, but there was no time to fret about it She was plunked down in front of the big makeup mirror. Lydia, the short-haired woman, coiled her hair back into a smooth, intricately knotted chignon at the back of her head, while the plump woman, whose name was Moira, began with the makeup. She made approving tittle noises as she dabbed on cosmetics with a slow, delicate hand. She brushed Rained face with a translucent powder and stepped back with a triumphant smile. “Done.”

  “Now the dress.” Mara rummaged through the things on the rack and pulled one out, tossing it on the bed. A long, voluminous skirt spilled out from the plastic wrapping, gleaming against the white lace coverlet. It was a deep, peacock blue taffeta, shot through with subtle rainbow tints. The garment was two pieces, the billowing skirt and a tight, boned corset top, strapless and scalloped at the neckline, angling down to a rounded V at the bottom. Raine finally understood the lack of a bra. The close-fitting bodice was a bustier in itself. It pushed her up, offering a daring expanse of her white chest, and lots of deep, shadowy cleavage. Lydia scowled as she fastened up the hooks. “You're thinner than I was led to believe.”

  “Sorry.” Raine almost laughed at her accusing tone. “I haven't had time to eat lately”

  “If you don't eat, you'll lose your looks,” Lydia scolded, threading her needle. “Hold still while I fix this.”

  They twitched and tucked, stitched and tweaked, spritzed and sprayed- Finally they led her before the mirror on the armoire.

  She tried not to gasp, but she was truly shocked at the way she looked. The color of the dress set off her skin, making it pearly and luminous. The makeup was subtle, but it brought her face into focus, accentuating her high cheekbones. Her straight brows were plucked into an elegant shape, opening up her face. Her eyes seemed huge. Even her big, full mouth, which she had always felt made her look childlike and vulnerable, looked different. Sensual and curvy. She looked glittery, luminous. Almost... beautiful.

  She had never considered herself beautiful. Pretty, maybe, in a washed-out sort of way, but beauty was Alix's undisputed territory and Raine had sensed from an early age that it would be dangerous to encroach on it.

  The knowledge that she was beautiful gave her no pleasure, however. It was a possible advantage, maybe even a weapon, if she had the stomach to use it. Alix had used hers. Often, and without mercy.

  The thought chilled her. Beauty did not make her feel powerful. At least, not here. On the contrary, she felt even more vulnerable in the sensual, beautiful gown. Victor was playing with her.

  The dress was the color of the last light of evening in a clear sky. It reminded her of an illustrated volume of fairy tales she'd read as a child. Bluebeard’s bride had worn a dress like this one, except for the addition of puffed leg-of-mutton sleeves. The same peacock color had clothed her on her voyage of horror and discovery through her new husband's grim, bloodstained castle.

  She shuddered. Mara misinterpreted it and reached behind her.

  “There's a wrap, if you're cold,” she said. She draped a stole of the same peacock taffeta across Raine's shoulders. Rainbow highlights shitted, shimmered. Raine dragged her gaze away from the mirror and looked at the expectant faces of the three women. She manufactured a smile. “Thank you. You're all very talented. I look wonderful.”

  “Come with me now,” Mara said briskly. “Mr. Lazar said to bring you to the library when you were ready.”

  She followed Mara through the corridor. The taffeta skirt billowed around her, brushing sensually against the floor. Cool drafts sighed across her bare shoulders and exposed neck, making the stole float behind her like fairy wings. Mara opened the door to the library, gave her a brief nod of farewell, and melted away into shadow.

  Raine wafted across the crimson carpet The library was lit only by a stained glass hanging lamp that illuminated the photographs on the shelf below and the portrait of Raine's grandmother from above. She stood in the center of the roiling serpentine pattern of the Persian carpet, swathed in an enormous, dreamlike silence.

  She stared up at the portrait. Her grandmother's painted image seemed to stare down, her pale gray eyes gleaming with subtle amusement. Raine realized that she had the same eyes and brows. The brows were slightly different, now that Moira and Lydia had plucked and tamed them, but the basic effect was the same.

  She wished she had called Seth, but the cell phone was still in her purse in the tower room. She had no evening bag to match the dress to carry it in. She'd been so afraid of Seth's reaction, but now, dressed up and led here like a virgin sacrifice, his anger seemed the least of her worries. She stared at her reflection in me window. Darkness had fallen, and the skin of her exposed throat and shoulders looked shockingly pale in the dim room. Trapped in this spooky dream world, the thought of Seth was a lifeline to reality.

  Currents of air whispered across her shoulders. She sensed the library door opening, though it made no sound. Her senses had dilated, like eyes opening. There would be no more jumping and squealing in surprise. She knew exactly who had just come in the door.

  She stood in the center of the blood-red vortex of the carpet's strange pattern and waited quietly, staring at her grandmother's image. Victor's reflection moved closer. He placed his hand on her shoulder for a moment, then removed it.

  He gestured towards the portrait, “You're very like her, you know.”

  She let out a long, silent sigh. He knew who she was, he had always known; and the awareness of his knowledge had crept up upon her so gradually, it had no power to jolt or alarm her.

  The world shifted and settled quietly, like a garment fluttering down around her. She turned to him. “Am I? People keep telling me I look exactly like my mother.”

  Victor dismissed her mother with a casual flick of his hand. “Superficially,” h
e said. “Your complexion is like Alix's, but your bone structure is much more pronounced and delicate.

  Your lips are fuller. And your eyes and eyebrows are pure Lazar. Look at her.”

  They stared up at the portrait for several moments.

  “You share more than just her name “ Victor said. “May I call you Katya? It would give me great pleasure.”

  Her automatic desire to be accommodating and agreeable crashed up against this new, solid woman planted in the center of a red vortex. The new woman won the struggle with surprising ease. “I would prefer to be called Raine,” she said. “My life is chaotic. I wish to maintain as many lines of continuity as possible. Otherwise I'll lose myself.”

  Displeasure flickered in his eyes. 'That disappoints me. I had hoped that your grandmother's name would be carried into the future.”

  Raine held her ground. “We can't always get what we want.”

  Victor's mouth twitched. “Now that, my dear, is God's own truth.” He offered her his arm. “Come. It won't be long before our guests arrive.”

  “Guests?” She lifted her chin, and did not take his proffered arm.

  His smile radiated warmth and approval. “I take too much for granted, eh? Since we had not formally established your status as my beloved, long-lost niece, I could not discuss my plans with you. It is a relief, no? To finally be who you are?”

  “Yes,” she said, meaning it with all her heart “And your guests?”

  “Ah. My guests. It is just a gathering of friends and business associates for dinner. The original idea was to host a simple meeting of my collectors club, for dinner and drinks, and a showing of some recent odd acquisitions of mine. I am a collector of art and antiquities, you see. But once you arrived, the idea of the party became more grandiose.”

  “I see “ she murmured, still baffled “But why all this? The dress, the hair. Why do you want me at your dinner party?”

  “Isn't it obvious?”

  “I'm afraid not”

  Victor smiled, and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, a light, glancing touch. “Vanity, I suppose. I'm a childless man. I can't resist the opportunity to present a beautiful, cultured, intriguing young woman to my friends and associates as my niece. Think of it as your debut” She stared at him.

  “I know it's foolish,” he said with a shrug. “But I am growing older. One must seize these opportunities while one can.” She swallowed over the lump that was growing in her throat “How long have you known about me?”

  Her heart twisted at how similar his smile was to her father's. The high cheekbones, the deep smile lines, the sharp, sculptured cut of his jaw. “I've known where you were since the day your mother took you from this place. I never lost you for so much as a day.”

  She could barely breathe. “All that running,” she whispered. “All those fake identities. AH for nothing.”

  “Alix always did have a tendency to overdramatize. It was my responsibility to keep an eye on you, as I did not trust Alix to do so. She is ... well, self-absorbed would be a charitable way to put it”

  Raine winced at the casual contempt that Victor's tone revealed.

  He went on. “I set up red flags in the Lazar Import & Export computer system to alert me if anyone using any of your aliases ever made a move to contact me. Imagine my pleasure when I logged on one morning and saw the automatic message in my inbox. Raine Cameron had sent her resume to my personnel department How fascinating.”

  “I suppose you wondered why I didn't just contact you directly,” she said cautiously.

  “Lazars tend to be subtle and devious,” he said with a winsome smile. “It's a family trait. Naturally, I assumed that you wished to learn more about the events of that terrible summer when Peter died.”

  Her stomach clenched. Victor's smiling face revealed absolutely nothing. “You're not angry?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. It's a tribute to my brother that you care enough to look for the truth. I'm proud that my only niece is courageous and enterprising.”

  Her mouth was so dry it was sealed closed. She stared at his smile, probing with all her senses for the trap that had to be hidden beneath his gentle, approving words.

  He took a step towards her. “I'm grateful to finally have a chance to say this to you, face-to-face, my dew:. I was out of the country when Peter drowned. I was devastated by his death. He was despondent He should not have been sailing alone. What I regret most of all is the tension that was between us. Much of it due to your mother. Alix liked to stir the pot. No matter what people say, I loved my brother.”

  The words vibrated between them, low and impassioned.

  Raine's throat began to quiver. She wiped away tears carefully with her fingertips, locked in an inward struggle to cling to the message of her dream, to Bill Haley's words. Her world, not Alix’s, she repeated silently to herself, like a charm against the pull of his charisma.

  He gave her a crooked smile. “You are not convinced.”

  She did not answer, and he began to laugh. “Honesty is so rare in my life these days. Like a splash of icy water. Refreshing. Well, my dear, whether you believe me or not, can you put your doubts aside long enough to enjoy a pleasant evening with my friends?”

  “If you'll excuse me, I need to make a phone call first.”

  He gestured towards the phone on the table. “Be my guest”

  She paused. This was not a conversation he could overhear.

  He smiled at her hesitation. “You wish to call your young man, I take it? To reassure him that you have not been lured into some salacious orgy? I have anticipated you, my dear. I have already invited Mr. Mackey to this gathering.”

  His eyes gleamed at her stunned expression. “He jumped at the chance when he heard that you would be a member of the party. He is the jealous, possessive type, no? Think of it You, out here overnight, subject to who knows what depraved appetites. Ah, dreadful. It was sure to drive such a young hotblood into a jealous frenzy. So I told him to come to dinner, to put his mind at ease. I hope I did well. That he will not bother you.”

  “Oh, no. Not at all,” she assured him. “I'm very glad he'll be here.”

  Her knees were practically rubbery with relief. Seth would be furious when she was introduced to him as Victor's niece, but he would understand once she explained the circumstances. And he was powerful enough to keep her from being sucked under Victor's spell. He would keep her warm, grounded and real. She would be as safe as it was possible to be in this uncanny place, with Seth at her side.

  Victor's gaze swept over her, and he nodded in approval. “It will be amusing to see his reaction when he sees you like this.” He made a sweeping gesture at her. “You are breathtaking, my dear.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.”

  'That reminds me.” He turned to the wall and removed an antique Japanese scroll, revealing a safe beneath. He keyed in a series of numbers, waited, keyed in a second series. The lock clicked open.

  He opened it, rummaging through several items, and drew out a flat black velvet box. “Your mother always coveted this, but I would not allow Peter to give it to her. I did not consider her an appropriate custodian.” He placed the box in Rained hands. “Go on. Open it.”

  She lifted the lid, and gasped. It was a fire opal, a teardrop shape, set in gold and a brilliant, milky swirl of tiny diamonds. She moved it in the light, old memories stirring inside her. The pearly smooth surface of the opal flashed in the light, pulsing with blue, green and violet fire.

  “I remember this necklace,” she whispered.

  “You played with it sitting on your grandmother's lap,” Victor told her. “You were her joy. The necklace is called Dreamchaser.”

  “I thought there was a tiny rainbow trapped inside the stone,” Raine said, touching it reverently with her fingertip. “A live rainbow.”

  “It's a family heirloom. A gift from your great-greatgrandfather to his bride. At last, it comes to you.”

  He clasped it around h
er neck. The chilly gold of the glittering chain made her shiver. The past was reaching out cold fingers to touch her. It called out in soft, whispering voices, like faraway music.

  Victor turned her until she was looking at herself in the mirror. The pendant was the perfect length for the peacock gown. It nestled at her cleavage, sumptuous and elegant. Perfect.

  “I don't know what to say,” she stammered.

  “Dreamchaser will remind you to look beneath the surface. To seek the passion and fire behind a deceptively plain exterior. Not that you need to be reminded.” Victor laid his hand upon her shoulder. “Please, wear the necklace often. All the time, if you can. It's been waiting for you for years. Your grandmother would be glad that you have this. She would have been proud of your beauty and your intelligence. And your courage.”

  She clasped the pendant in her hand. Tears flashed down her cheeks, and she flicked them away, trying not to smudge the makeup. Victor's piercing gaze saw right inside her, all her fears and weaknesses, her hunger for love and approval. It was so hard to resist. No one had ever been proud of her that she could remember. Alix was disapproving and competitive. Hugh, her stepfather, barely knew she existed.

  She knew it was a trap—and she almost didn't care. Almost.

  Victor kissed her forehead gently and offered her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and gave him a cautious smile. He smiled back. A smile that saw too much, understood too much. He offered her his arm. “I would be pleased to show you my collection, but there’s no time tonight Perhaps tomorrow. If such things interest you, of course.”

  'Thank you, yes. That would be fascinating” she murmured.

  “Come, let's take a tour of the house before our guests arrive. Allow me to reacquaint you with your childhood home.”

  She reached out and took his arm. Trap or not, lies or not, she couldn't make her scars and fears and needs disappear by sheer force of will. All she could do was to watch them flowing like water, swirling and changing with every instant that went by.