Three and a Half Weeks

by Lulu Astor

  I write all of this down, knowing there’s so much more that I could be writing this list for days on end. Alas, the limited reasons I’ve listed will have to do for now. He’s emerging from the bathroom and it’s time for the Let’s Watch Naked Ian Get Dressed show. It’s my second favorite pastime. I sit up straighter in the bed and wait impatiently for the damn towel to drop.

  “What are you up to?” His tone is teasing as he unexpectedly turns to catch me gaping, his left eyebrow lifted in an amused query.

  “What are you up to, is the better question,” I ask breezily, noting a favorite part of him standing at attention. Do we have time for one more go-round? “I was just sending you an email to read on the flight to New York.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, plus I compiled a playlist on your iPad,” I say proudly. “That should eat up a whole forty-five minutes. Then if you have a three-hour nap and a leisurely two-hour meal, that will get you all the way to New York.”

  Ian grins and swaggers over, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand reaches over and he gently brushes back the hair in my face, then grasps my hand. “Promise me you’ll keep Mason by your side every single minute when you’re not in this condo.”

  “Should he sleep with me, too? For protection, I mean?” His responding glower is answer enough. “Okay, I promise, Ian. I understand the danger involved. Promise me you won’t go to Lucien’s alone… in fact, you shouldn’t go there at all. Perhaps you might meet him at a public place?”

  “I promise I won’t go alone. The problem with meeting him, Ella, is that the man isn’t just going to pick up the phone and joyfully arrange to meet me at the place of my choosing. I don’t even know if he’s in town for certain but I couldn’t exactly phone him for his schedule.” He peers closely into my eyes. “Claudia is going to call you with the girlfriend’s contact number. Don’t forget to call. Okay?”

  I nod. “What should I say, do you think?”

  “Explain who you are and then, if you think it necessary to loosen her tongue, tell her about what happened to you and how Lucien feared the two men were behind it. Segue from there to ask if she knows anything about them. You may not want to mention Natasha’s name upfront because according to your friend Maya, the evil one broke up their long-term relationship.”

  Again, I nod in assent, now troubled. I never met this Natasha person but I hate her already. She wants to hurt Ian through whatever means she can, and that includes me. I hope we can hurt her first, though I have no idea if it’s even possible.

  “Ian, do you have a plan of attack or are you just doing reconnaissance?”

  “I have a tentative plan, but it’s entirely subject to change as needed. Come here,” he holds out his arms. “I don’t want you worrying. As long as you stick close to Mason, you’ll be fine, Ella. I promise.”

  “What about you?” I choke out, upset now “will you be fine?”

  Ian bends down to so our eyes are level. “I will be fine. I’m going in with protection and extreme caution. Plus, I can defend myself quite well.”

  “Not against a gun or a knife. These people can be ruthless—you don’t know what they’re capable of, do you?”

  “I suspect I do know but I’d rather not share it with you right now.” He smiles. “I’ll keep in touch, baby. Just make that phone call and get back to me with whatever info you manage to ferret out of her. Okay? I’ve got to go: Scott’s been waiting on me for nearly two hours.”

  “Okay, go.”

  He turns to grab his bag and head to the door. “Ian!”

  His face shifts toward me. “Yes?”

  I zip over to him and throw my arms around his neck. “I love you.”

  “Ella, I love you, too. I’ll be back soon and we’ll spend some time together doing happy things for a change. No business dinners, no corporate events, no fights with ex-lovers or—employers. Just you, me, and some serious fun. Yes?”

  Smiling broadly, I nod my head vigorously. “I’ll start planning right away. How does roller blading grab you?”

  The look of horror that descends over his face leaves me giggling even after the door closes. Five minutes later, I miss him already—desperately.

  Claudia phones me at ten-thirty with the contact info for one Eliza McQueen. The hand that is holding the paper on which I’ve written the number is shaking as if with palsy: obviously, I don’t want to do this but I promised Ian. I figure I’ll just bite the bullet and get it over with so I pick up the damn phone, deciding if she doesn’t pick up, I won’t leave a message. Or should I? How will I ever get in touch with her if she screens calls? Okay, maybe I will leave a message. While this internal debate is underway, a woman’s voice answers the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Er… yes,” I stammer. “Is this Eliza McQueen?”

  “It is. Who’s calling?”

  “Um, Ms. McQueen, my name is Ella Strong and I used to work with Lucien Phillips. I wanted—”

  “Let me stop you right there. Lucien and I are no longer together.”

  “Please don’t disconnect,” I say hurriedly, because I think she’s about to. “I know you’re not together anymore. I worked for him very recently, Eliza, and I had an experience… a rather terrible one that left me with many questions. Just recently, my fiancé learned that one of his exes was involved with Lucien and asked if I might speak with you about it. Perhaps you might be able to shed some light on the matter. Maya also referred me to you. Will you speak to me?”

  “Ella, did you say your name was?”

  “Yes. Ella Strong.”

  “Where are you calling from, Ella?”

  Puzzled, I’m not sure what she’s asking. “Um, I’m calling from my home in Portland, Oregon.”

  “I’m in Santa Barbara… in California. This is a conversation we really shouldn’t have over the phone. Since you’re the one requesting information, you should be the one to travel to me, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, well, normally that wouldn’t be a problem but I’ve been threatened by Lucien’s friend so my fiancé won’t let me leave the house for the foreseeable future… at least not without my bodyguard.”

  “Bring your bodyguard then.”

  “Is it possible we can just talk over the phone? Initially?”

  I hear Eliza sigh through the miles. “What do you want to know?”

  What do I want to know? I’m just not sure but Ian advised me not to open with Natasha. I opt for vagueness. “Is there anything out of the ordinary you can tell me about Lucien or his… friends?”

  There is a small sound of outrage from her. I immediately realize I need to give Eliza more information before I ask any questions.”

  “Eliza, allow me to first explain what happened to me.” With that I give her the whole rundown, beginning with the call from Lara that hooked me up with Lucien in the first place and ending with Lucien’s explanation in Starbucks.

  There’s a dense silence over there in Santa Barbara. I wait patiently for something from her, whatever she deigns to toss my way. “I can’t say I’m surprised by any of it, I’m sorry to say. You’re still missing some big pieces of the puzzle though. One huge piece, anyway.”

  “Does that huge piece have a name?” I don’t wait for her to reply. “A name that begins with an N, perchance?”

  “You got it. So you know about her, then?”

  “Yes. My fiancé used to…” How do I explain it? “They used to be a couple, since high school, and then went into business together. She’s been systematically trying to sabotage him ever since. He’s attempting to find out why. We thought you might have some insight into it.”

  “I can tell you the woman is insane, for one thing—and a total grade-A bitch, for another. I would even hazard to say she’s a C-word but I’ve got too much class to use such language. If anyone ever deserved the characterization, it would be Natasha.”

  “What about the goons who work for him, the brothers?”

  “They’re bottom
feeders but as far as I can tell, fairly harmless. They certainly look capable of serious criminality but in the years that I was with Lucien, I’d never seen them do anything untoward at all. In fact, they were downright respectful of me. I never was sure why because I saw them being very antagonistic and even overtly rude with other women.”

  “I’m pretty sure they were the ones responsible for drugging me.”

  “God, that must have been awful for you. I wouldn’t put it past the Lithuanians but I’ve never seen them do anything that bad. At their worst, I saw them chase a guy who stole a parking spot from them but, hey, in New York anyone would do that. Parking spots are like the most precious gold in that city.”

  “Do you know anything about Natasha that might help?”

  “Not really. You know the brothers are her uncles, right?

  I murmured an assent.

  “She initially came around to see them but once Lucien got an eyeful of her, he was always hanging around like some pathetic puppy whenever she was over. She stayed in New York for a long while visiting them. It didn’t take long for me to realize he was cheating; I think they started up about two or three weeks after she first arrived. I left shortly thereafter.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that she ruined your relationship. And now she doesn’t even see him, I don’t think.”

  “Oh, it was apparent even then that the attraction was mainly one-sided but Lucien didn’t seem to care one way or the other. He was fixated on her. We were engaged to be married, you know. He threw away a four-year relationship for a few weeks with her. Good riddance. I will say, though, that it pains me to learn how she’s using him to hurt other people. Lucien can be such a fool.”

  “Yes. But I do think he might be the innocent in all of this dirty business. I feel for him, if that’s the case.”

  “Well, Ella, that’s about all I can offer you: I really don’t know much at all. If I think of anything at all that might help, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Yes, Eliza, I really appreciate your time.”

  We disconnect and I put my phone down and get up to get a cup of coffee from the kitchen. I’m halfway there when I hear my phone singing. I do an about-face and grab for the phone right before it goes to voice mail. It’s Eliza’s number displayed on the face.

  “Hello?”

  “Ella?”

  “Yes, Eliza, it’s me.”

  “The second I disconnected from you a memory popped into my mind. I don’t want to worry you too much but you need to know. Right before I left Lucien, I was at his place packing and I overheard a conversation between Natasha and Lukas and Leo. I didn’t hear too much of it but what I did made me very nervous. They were talking about the man in Portland, that’s how they referred to him. Leo was saying something like, “If that doesn’t take down the man in Portland, we can always arrange for a little accident.” I actually thought they must’ve been kidding, at the time. It was like dialogue right out of a bad TV movie

  Her words suck the oxygen right out of my lungs and I feel my throat begin to close. I can’t even speak to respond.

  “Ella? Are you there?”

  I try to make a sound to let her know I’m still here but I’m paralyzed with fear. These people are out to get Ian and they sound like they’ll stop at nothing to do it. Eliza is still talking but I’m only catching every third word or so.

  “…sorry to upset… thought it would… best.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Eliza. You just caught me off-guard. I’ll be sure to relay the information to my fiancé. Thanks again.”

  “Sure thing. Good luck to you.”

  I can’t call Ian to warn him of this latest threat because he’s in the air right now. I instead send him a text, advising him to call me ASAP. Taking my coffee, I head into the library to do some research on those stupid Lithuanian brothers, Leo and Lukas Sobel. I’m going gunning for them.

  Chapter 41

  The plane slowly rolls into the next position in the queue for takeoff at the private airfield. Glancing at his watch, he figures it should only be a few more minutes. He rotates his neck and flexes his arms and legs, trying in various ways to relax but every nerve feels stretched like a taut rope, with zero slack. Daniel, he needs to speak to him. Somehow, over a very short period of time, Ian had begun to rely heavily on the other man’s judgment. For the first time perhaps in his life, he feels he has a friend whom he can actually trust.

  While the jet sits waiting for clearance, Ian calls Daniel in New York. Though he might be mistaken, he gets the impression that Daniel is always up for a confrontation with a bad guy and Ian seems to have no shortage of them lately.

  “Hey, Ian. What’s going on?”

  “Daniel. I’m on a plane right now, on my way to New York. Are you in town?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Are you in the mood for some face time with the Russian mob?”

  “Always.”

  Ian laughs. He knew he’d go for it. “I’ll call you when I touch down and we’ll meet. This matter pertains to our friend Phillips, of course.”

  “I might have guessed. Call me when you get in and we’ll make a plan.”

  “Good enough. Until then.” He disconnects, satisfied he’s found a kindred spirit in Mr. Butler.

  Ian had told Ella he had a plan; that was a total lie. Truth was, he had no idea what to do, short of multiple murders. If he finagled to get Natasha and the rest of her clan deported, then what? He would give them even more reason to regroup and come at him again. What the hell could he do?

  Thank God that Ella had no idea the brothers and Natasha were affiliated with the Russian mob. She was worried enough about him thinking they were just troublemakers. He hoped he didn’t let on just how agitated he himself was because he was direly conflicted about how to handle this provocative situation.

  He leans back in the comfortable leather seat of his Gulfstream. Something begins to slip off his lap and he jerks up, just catching his iPad before it falls to the floor. Reminded that Ella had written him an email letter and compiled a playlist, he turns on the machine. As soon as he reads her words, his chest constricts with emotion, making him wish he could hold her right this minute. As he scrolls past to head to iTunes for her song compilation, his eye catches the books downloaded on his reader, one book in particular. With a devilish grin, he opens the one that snared his attention: Three and a Half Weeks, by Ariel Strong. Almost unbelievably, he never got around to reading it before. Maybe this flight wouldn’t be so interminable after all.

  It was nine minutes and twenty-eight seconds before I could lock the doors to close the shop for the night when in walks a man in an espresso-brown business suit, the most gorgeous man who’d ever fallen to earth. Thus begins the story of my three and a half weeks with a tall, dark (emphasis on dark), handsome stranger (emphasis on stranger).

  She has his full attention now. He continues to read the book she wrote, the “fictional” story about her three and a half weeks with a kinky man and a dungeon full of whips and toys.

  He reads the whole book in four hours and by the time he puts the iPad down, he has a vicious hard-on. Damn, he’s going to have to either live with it or take care of it on his own. No wonder Ella’s book was a bestseller: she has a knack for making a scene come alive with hotness. He laughs, thinking of all the girls and women who got their panties wet while reading about his and Ella’s escapades over the course of that time. Three visits to his dungeon, yes, but there were many more nights in beds, his and hers. Yes, they’d made good use of their limited time together.

  Limited. He lost her after that last time in the dungeon. For a long while the experience and its cost made him never want to use a whip again. Now, though, it was different. He and Ella were secure, engaged to be married—they were in love. Would she want to venture into deeper waters with him now? He wonders.

  Ella had made light of that last scene in her novel: she’d obviously wanted to keep the book from descending into too da
rk or depressing a realm. Still, reading between the lines, her trauma bleeds through. When Rafe (his alter-ego) whips Gia (Ella’s alter-ego), she leaves him, too, but they reunite at the end. Did Ella wish for that conclusion all along? If so, he’s been playing by the book unwittingly.

  Rafe was in a strange mood that day. Insisting we play, he enthusiastically escorted me to the dungeon and waited impatiently outside while I “situated” myself, as he euphemistically put it. In plainer language, I was to demean myself by stripping naked and kneeling in supplication to await his exalted presence. He could take one minute or a half hour to get to me. The suspense, so he told me, was all part of my fun.

  It’s hard to keep track of time when your knees are aching from being on a cold, hard floor but it was probably only three or four minutes until I heard the door creak open and his footsteps approaching me. Almost from minute one, I realized that this kink was psychological as much as physical, probably in equal measure. The sounds, the silence, the suspense and anticipation—it all mixed and alchemized into intense sexual excitement. This time was so different, though. Instead of leading me to the bench or restraining me from the hooks suspended from the ceiling, he brought me over to what I called the tilted cross. In actuality, it looks like an X and it’s called a St. Andrew’s cross. Back then, I didn’t know what it was but I could certainly guess what it was used for.

  Few words were spoken as he lashed my wrists and ankles to each limb of the cross. I bent my face into my left arm, since there was nothing in the middle for me to lean on.

  Rafe gave me no details: it wasn’t until later that I discovered he was greatly pissed off at me for flirting with another man. I hadn’t even realized I was flirting: I called it buying a fucking cup of coffee from some young blond guy who works at Starbucks. Trivial details don’t matter, though, when the punishment is a single tail laid across your bare back, posterior, and thighs in rapid succession. He told me I owed him a thank-you for sparing my calves and ankles. I disagreed: I felt I owed him a bullet in his intestines.