The Midnight Club

by Love, Michelle

  Alex Milland sat in countless meetings with police both in Italy and New York, but none of them could find out who was behind the website, and who was threatening Maceo’s new love. Alex was frustrated. Maceo could hire more and more protection, but it was still too easy to get to Ori, Alex thought.

  When he returned to New York, he went to see his half-sister, Netta. Much younger than Alex, she was an undergrad at Columbia, and the offspring of Alex’s late father and a Mexican artist from the Bronx. Netta had a fractious relationship with the Milland half of the family—from a young age she had been fiercely feminist, much to Alex’s father’s disgust. She and Alex also had times where they didn’t communicate for long periods, the difference being that Netta adored Alex and he adored her, but they shared a common trait of not needing to be around people all of the time.

  His sister greeted him now at the doorway of her dormitory. Netta was damned if she would join a sorority. Vapid narcissists, she had declared the students who joined them. Netta got away with her strident opinions because of her beauty, her spirit, and her incredible brain, which made sure she was top of the class of every subject she took. Her dark eyes flashed with defiance, her smooth café-au-lait skin, full red lips, and curvy physique made her popular too—with men and women.

  Alex kissed her on the cheek. “You hungry, sis?”

  “Always.”

  They went to a local burger joint and stuffed their faces with patties laden with grilled onions and Swiss cheese. Netta moaned with delight at the taste and Alex had to laugh. Netta always made his heart lift.

  “So, how goes things, bro?” Netta wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

  “So-so,” Alex said honestly. “Still no progress on the case—and now it looks like Maceo’s girlfriend is being targeted.”

  “Maceo has a girlfriend?” Netta looked astonished, “He’s made an actual commitment?”

  Alex grinned. “He has, as amazing as it seems.” Maceo and Netta, out of all of his friends, got along famously, kidding around with each other constantly. “She’s lovely, too. Here.”

  He handed her his phone, showing her a photo he had taken of Maceo and Ori. He watched his sister as she studied the picture, wondering if she too would pick up on Ori’s resemblance to Viola. From Netta’s expression, he guessed she did.

  “Woah.”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  Netta handed his phone back. “That’s some freaky shit. And she’s being threatened too?”

  Alex nodded. “It’s a fucking mess. Anyway … distract me, please. What’s up with you?”

  Netta rolled her eyes. “My life is classes followed by classes with food in between.”

  Alex grinned. “No hook-ups?”

  “None worth mentioning.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Word. I’m the proverbial dull Jack, all work, no play. Hey, when is the Club getting together again? If they’re bringing girlfriends, I could be your date and finally discover what you get up to together.”

  Alex laughed. “I can assure you, Netta, when you reach 39, the most exciting thing you can think of to do is sit around with a bottle of scotch, talking about nothing much and still getting an early night.”

  “Party animals,” she said mockingly, and Alex shrugged good-naturedly.

  “That’s us. Look, I have to get back … you okay for money?”

  Netta rolled her eyes. Their father might have cut her out of his will, but Alex had still given her half of everything he inherited. She hugged her half-brother now. “You’re the best, you know?”

  “I know. You’re a lucky girl ...” Alex chuckled and Netta joined in. She thumped him playfully.

  “Get out of here.”

  He had almost reached the door when she caught up with him. “Alex, wait.”

  He looked down at her, his eyes curious. Her expression was serious for once.

  “Alex … you know I loved Viola, right? Like, she was the perfect person for you, and she was like my sister?”

  “I do,” he said softly, nodding. “I do.”

  Netta nodded. “She would want you to be happy, Alex. Try and find her again. Viola would want that.”

  Alex smiled, but there was no happiness in his face. “I can’t, Netta. Not until I know. Not until I know who did this to her. I can’t.”

  Alex made it back to his car before he broke. He pummeled the steering wheel and screamed out his pain, knowing that in the underground parking garage where he was, no one could see it.

  He wouldn’t be able to do as Netta asked until he got Viola out of his head. An idea had been forming in his mind for the past few weeks, but it was so crazy, so out of character, so wrong, that he had kept shoving it away.

  Viola.

  Ori … she looked so much like his lost love that he could not stop thinking about her and yet … he could see that Maceo—playful, boyish, good-hearted Maceo—was deeply in love with the young woman. Could he really break his brother’s heart by going after Ori? By trying to seduce her? He had no doubt that Ori loved Maceo as much as he did her.

  God, what a fucking mess. But over the next few days he couldn’t help returning to the idea that maybe, just maybe, if he could make Ori his, then maybe he would be able to get over Viola.

  Am I cracking up? One morning, a week after his lunch with Netta, he gazed in the mirror and paused, mid-shave. You’re obsessing over your friend’s lover. Stop this. He told himself over and over to stop thinking about her …

  When he got into the office that day, he nodded to his assistant who had brought him coffee, when she asked him if he need anything. “Yes,” he said, and his voice was steady. “I need an open-ended plane ticket.”

  His P.A. took out her notepad. “Where to, boss?”

  He hesitated only for a beat. “Venice. As soon as possible.”

  When Maceo had suggested a week in the south of the country, Ori had readily agreed. A secluded villa on the cliffs overlooking Naples had been their base for the past two days and now, in the late afternoon heat, Ori lay stretched entirely naked on a lounger on the little balcony. She was half-dozing, her head resting on her arm, but she felt his presence as Maceo came out onto the balcony. From the pause, she knew he was gazing at her, taking in her naked body, and she couldn’t help but feel wildly sexy because of his scrutiny. A second later she felt something drop between her breasts. Scented oil. It snaked down her belly and into her navel.

  She smiled and opened her eyes as Maceo followed the trail of the oil with his fingers. Over the last few days, his swarthy skin had tanned to a deep copper, only accenting the lightness of his green eyes. He was mesmerizing, and mesmerized in equal parts as his fingers smoothed the oil over her skin. Ori met his gaze and slowly spread her legs so that he could follow the oil trail down. Maceo grinned almost triumphantly as he found her clit and rubbed it gently between his finger and thumb. He was wearing only a pair of white pants, and she could see the bulge of his erection. She slid her hand over it, feeling the heat from it in her palm, stroking him through his pants.

  Maceo’s middle finger slipped inside her, caressing, and he bent his head to kiss her breasts, her belly, his tongue circling her navel and dipping into it as it quivered under his touch. Ori unzipped his pants and Maceo stood to remove them, standing in all his priapic glory. His cock stood proud, thick and long against his belly.

  “You want me?” he said softly, and she nodded. He covered her body with his, tugging her legs around his waist and gently sliding all the way into her, filling her cunt until she gasped. He smiled down at her. “Do you like me to fuck you, pretty girl?” He thrust his hips hard and pinned her hands above her head.

  Ori gazed up at him as they made love, the oil on her body making it easy for them to move even on the cramped sun lounger. Maceo got rough. Goddamn, she loved it when he did this, wrestling her onto the sunbaked tiles and fucking her again and again until she was completely at his mercy.

  It was nighttime by the time th
ey finally rested. Ori, catching her breath, grinned over at Maceo. “You drive me crazy, Maceo Bartoli.”

  He laughed. “Caro, voglio essere sempre dentro di te. I always want to be inside you.” He rolled onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and looked down at her. “Ori, marriage is never something I have aspired to, nor perhaps even believed in—until now. I’m not asking yet.I don’t want to frighten you off or rush things. But is it something you desire?”

  Ori was taken aback. “Maceo ... the only way I can think to answer that is to tell you that I want you. A piece of paper or a ceremony won’t change how I feel about you or us. I love you. That is all I need.”

  He bent his head to kiss her. “Then I am happy. Still,” he said. “I would like to make a commitment to you, just a gesture to tell you that I belong to you.”

  Ori smiled. “Just your words are enough for me.”

  Maceo laughed, but shook his head slightly. “You are not like other women, Orianthi Roy.”

  “I hope not.”

  But it was later, when Maceo was asleep next to her, that she began to wonder what he really meant. Not like other women. Did he mean she was broken? Was he with her out of some misguided white-knight thing? She hoped not, and she told herself it was just night terrors that were bugging her. She sighed and rolled onto her side. Don’t be paranoid. But she couldn’t but be wary; years of her stepfather’s abuse made her question any man’s motives. She stroked Maceo’s dark curls.Asleep, he looked 10 years younger than his 39 years. She brushed her lips gently against his. “Ti amo.” And she did love him, completely.

  She just wasn’t sure in her heart if she trusted him.

  He checked to see how many hits the website had, and grinned. No doubt, they had seen it. Good. Now they knew to be terrified. He assumed, when Maceo had found Ori unconscious but alive, he had done the right thing by leaving her alive. The temptation to stab her to death right then had been overwhelming, his blade slicing into her tender skin, seeing the agony in her eyes, the horror, the blood.

  Soon. When he took her, he would take his time to kill Ori, not like Viola where the crossbow bolt had slammed into her body, severing her abdominal artery immediately. It had only taken her seconds to bleed out and die. No, Ori would suffer horribly before she died.

  He pushed away from his computer screen. He wondered if any of the other members of the Club would avoid getting involved with women once they knew he was deadly serious.

  The Midnight Club would be brought to its knees by the time he had finished with them.

  Shiloh was deep in thought as she walked to Benoit’s office a week later. They had almost completed the plans for the new developments, the green spaces they had worked so hard on. Now, today, she and Benoit would present their plans to the Board. Shiloh was going over everything in her head when she suddenly heard Benoit’s raised voice. She hovered outside his door, curious. Benoit was speaking fast, in French, and he sounded angry.

  Shiloh started guiltily when Genevieve, Benoit’s assistant, appeared behind her, but Genevieve grinned at her. “He’s in a foul mood today,” she murmured. “Good luck with him.” She rolled her eyes and grinned, and Shiloh smiled uneasily back.

  “Should I go in?”

  Genevieve nodded. “He’s expecting you.”

  Still, Shiloh poked her head in see if Benoit would want privacy for his phone call, but he waved her in and she sat in the chair opposite him.

  He finished the call by slamming the phone down and rubbing his hands over his head. Shiloh waited for him to speak.

  “Merde … Well, that was Gaston D’Urberville.”

  The name sounded familiar, but Shiloh frowned. “Is he on the Board?”

  Benoit nodded. “The presentation is canceled. Shiloh, I’m so sorry, but it seems my Board is more interested in profit than it is in social responsibility.”

  Her heart sinking, Shiloh stared at him. “The development?”

  Benoit sighed, and she could see genuine sorrow in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Shiloh. They won’t approve it. They will only consider boutique and high-end properties. Dammit, I thought I had them; at least four them swore we would have their backing … it’s such a kick in the gut.”

  “I don’t believe this … all our work.” Shiloh’s voice was barely a whisper. “What the hell am I going to tell Miriam?”

  Benoit shook his head. “I’ll talk to Miriam, Shiloh.”

  “No, it’s not your job to tell her. It’s mine. God, she trusted me, and I failed. I failed the city.” Shiloh felt bleak and Benoit got up and dragged his chair around next to hers. He took her hands in his.

  “Sweetheart, these things happen. Miriam can’t blame you. At least you tried.”

  Shiloh gave him a thin smile. “That won’t be enough. She trusted me with something she wouldn’t normally trust anyone in a junior position with. She took a risk and lost.”

  “She’ll understand.”

  Miriam did understand—but it wasn’t enough, and Shiloh tendered her resignation to her boss. Miriam accepted it sadly. “These things happen, Shiloh. Learn from this.”

  At least the severance package would pay her rent for a few months, but Shiloh felt bleak. Benoit immediately offered her a job with his company, but Shiloh told him she couldn’t work for him—or rather, for the Board that had shattered their dream. A boutique hotel was swiftly erected on the greenbelt land and Shiloh despaired at the world.

  The one positive thing was that Benoit Vaux had shown himself to be a good friend. He called her almost every day and came over, bringing take-out or even cooking in her tiny kitchenette. They took to walking Beau in the parks Paris still had left, chatting about everything and anything.

  Benoit would take Shiloh’s arm sometimes as they strolled, but he never made a pass at her or made her feel uncomfortable.

  Uncomfortable. Ha, she thought now. The fact was that she was attracted to him; his machismo and his arrogance were tempered by his wit, his intelligence, and his unexpected kindness. His dark brown eyes would settle on her blue ones and she would feel as if she were sinking into them.

  On a rainy Saturday night in late spring, he asked if she would like to join him for dinner, and she accepted. The city was busy as they dined in a small but exclusive restaurant.

  Shiloh was telling Benoit about the freelance work she was doing. “It’s mainly writing articles, blog posts, and doing research, but it keeps me busy.” She was being distracted by his fingers, which were stroking the back of her hand as it rested on the table.

  “That sounds positive.”

  “It is.”

  Benoit slowly took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m glad things are working out, but you know there’s always a job waiting for you at my company.”

  She was mesmerized by his mouth against her hand. “Thank you.”

  “Shiloh … I can’t tell you how sorry I am that our project didn’t work out. I’m not sorry that we spent all that time together, and I think you know why.”

  His words made her stomach warm and her sex quiver. She met his gaze, desire sweeping through her. She felt tongue-tied. Benoit leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “You can’t deny this thing between us,” he murmured. “It’s in everything we talk about, everything we do. I want you, Shiloh, and I think you want me too. This doesn’t have to be complicated.”

  But it is complicated, she wanted to say, but couldn’t form the words. And before she knew it, they were in his car, racing to his penthouse. Everything in her was telling her to stop it, that having sex with this man would not be a good idea.

  But, God, she wanted him. As he drove, his hand was on her stockinged thigh, his fingers stroking her gently, and all she wanted to do was to grab that hand and push it between her legs. Feel how much I want you, Benoit.

  By the time they had reached his penthouse, Shiloh was quivering with excitement, and Benoit, grinning almost triumphantly, pulled her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers h
ungrily. God, that kiss … Shiloh felt light-headed and almost delirious as he swept her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom.

  She tugged impatiently at his tie, discarding it and using her frantic fingers to unbutton his shirt. As she pushed the fabric apart, she sighed happily. His chest, broad and well-muscled with a fine scattering of dark hair, was solid and masculine—not waxed and buffed like so many of her ex-boyfriends had been. Benoit noted her admiration with a grin, then his hands were under her T-shirt, pulling it over her head. Her breasts, small and firm, had no need of a bra, and his mouth found her nipple as he reached under her short skirt and ripped her panties from her.

  Shiloh could barely contain her desire as she freed his large, heavy cock from his pants and stroked it until it quivered and jerked in his hands. Benoit lifted her and moved so her back was against the wall, then he thrust deeply inside her, making Shiloh cry out with pleasure. Benoit fucked her hard, his hips slamming against hers, his mouth rough on hers. Shiloh tasted blood, but she didn’t care. Her fingernails clawed at his back and her teeth nipped at his bottom lip as his cock drilled deeper and deeper into her. She felt him come a heartbeat before her own climax hit; his cock pumping cum deep, deep, deep inside her as she called his name over and over.

  They tumbled to his carpet and began again, Benoit taking a moment to remove her skirt now, grinning down at her. “Guess what we’re going to do … again?”

  He went down on her this time, his tongue lashing around her clit, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he tasted her. Shiloh trembled and bucked beneath him, begging him to fuck her now. Benoit acquiesced, almost brutal in his taking of her, dominating her body completely.

  She was still awake when, finally, Benoit fell asleep in her arms. Shiloh’s mind was reeling, her body sated. It had been a night she had never expected or dreamed of, but what surprised her more than anything was Benoit. He was a masterful lover, yes, but just now he had fallen asleep in her arms, totally vulnerable and totally unafraid to be that comfortable with her. She could barely reconcile those two sides of him. She stroked his hair back from his face. He looked almost boyish in the moonlight. If he was like this with her … how come he kept his guard up with other women? How come he hadn’t sent her back home after they’d had sex? Every preconception she had about this man was being blown out of the water.