by Aubrey Rose
“This was at the Halloween party?”
“Yeah, Gwen found Chyna slumped in a corner half-conscious. We both thought she’d just had too much to drink, but some of the things she said were really strange.”
He pivoted toward her, extending his arm along the back of the couch. “What did she say?”
“She asked me if they’d gotten me too. I asked her who she meant and she said the Devil and his henchmen had been prowling the party.”
“I left right after I found you by the pool. Did things get even wilder after I left?”
“Wasn’t that wild enough?” He grinned at her. Ignoring the sudden flutter in her belly, she continued. “Chyna started crying and said… I’m trying to remember her exact words. Don’t dance with the Devil or the Devil isn’t dancing or something like that.”
“You think she might have been raped?”
“When Jamie didn’t call the next day, I went to see Chyna. She told me she couldn’t remember anything beyond arriving at the party.”
“Did she report the incident to the police?”
“What incident? She doesn’t remember being upset and getting drunk isn’t a crime.”
“Well,” Trevor sighed, “I guess this was a dead end. I’ve subjected myself to L.A. for nothing.” He softened the complaint with a charming smile.
“Are you still living in Washington?”
“Yep. I flew down from Seattle on Thursday.”
Her stomach tightened as she realized how little she really knew about him. “And how long do you intend to stay?”
“As long as it takes. I wasn’t sure what I’d find once I started digging, I was just sure something was there.” His warm gaze caressed her face.
Velvet fought against his sensual appeal. “I know you got your law degree. Elliot said you were a parole officer. How did you go from criminology to investigative reporting?”
He paused and suspicion mushroomed in Velvet’s mind. Was he sifting through memories trying to encapsulate his past or was he concocting one?
“Two years as a defense attorney was all I could take.” He smiled, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of her neck. “I worked as a parole officer for almost six years, but I tended to drive myself crazy over my cases. I guess I’m like a doctor who cries every time he hurts someone. I couldn’t maintain an emotional detachment. I desperately wanted all of my clients to succeed and it really pissed me off when they screwed up. So I got out. I’d learned a lot about investigation, and with my background in law, I know how far I can push things before I’m over the line. Pretty boring story.”
“Have you ever been married?” Each time his fingers stroked her skin, tingles skittered down her spine.
“For almost two years, about eight years ago.”
“What happened?”
“She was married to me, but I was married to my job.”
His job? As a parole officer or a reporter? His teasing fingers were distracting her. “Do you still see her?”
“Nope. She moved to Michigan and remarried less than a year after we divorced. We didn’t have children.”
“Then, you live alone?”
“Do you really think I’d come on to you if there was someone else? I had you naked in my bed and didn’t make love to you because you belonged to someone else. I take infidelity very seriously.” His hand settled against the nape of her neck and she looked into his eyes. “Let’s go to my hotel and finish what we started. I want to be your lover. I have for eleven years. I need your help with this investigation, but what I feel for you is separate from all that.”
“I’ll help you investigate Depalma. The rest… Tonight was powerful, wonderful even, but you’re only here to get a story. You’ll uncover the truth and then scurry back to Seattle, leaving me unemployed and alone. I’m not sure I see the point.”
“Come back to my hotel and I’ll show you the point.” He placed a kiss against her temple, making her skin tingle. “If Depalma is as dirty as I think he is, you’ll likely be unemployed or arrested regardless of my investigation. As for ending up alone, that has yet to be seen. You can’t hide from yourself forever. How long has it been since you did something irresponsible, something utterly selfish? Decadent?”
“Is that how you live your life?” She pushed to her feet, moving away from the sofa. Away from him.
“Not often.” His voice was gruff, impatient. “But life is meant to be lived, Velvet and live is a verb.”
She hadn’t meant to make him angry, but she wasn’t willing to pretend. “When you described my fantasy, do you remember the stipulation you put on my lover?”
He shook his head.
“You said I would revel in his mastery and surrender myself completely, but only if I knew I could trust him.”
His confident demeanor faltered and he averted his gaze. Her heart sank. He was still hiding something.
“What do you need me to do to help with your investigation?”
“Just watch and listen, snoop around a bit. But you have to be careful. He’s dangerous, Velvet. Don’t doubt it for a minute. Under that suave and charming façade beats the heart of an evil man.”
* * * * *
The following morning found Velvet restless and fatigued. Haunted by Trevor’s careless warning, or perhaps by Trevor himself, Velvet couldn’t sleep. She tossed in her lonely bed cursing her prudish sensibilities. She wanted Trevor, longed for his touch and the thrilling passion she’d only found in his arms. So why had she refused him?
Fear, not of the man, but of the relationship ‑‑ if you could call casual sex the beginning of a relationship. Perhaps that was the problem. She wanted a relationship, not just an affair.
After a quick breakfast, Velvet showered and dressed in cotton walking shorts and a sleeveless blouse. She’d set aside Thursday in case the weather didn’t cooperated on one of the other days. Bright sun and gentle breezes had allowed her to finish the sessions on schedule. Left with nothing pressing to do, Velvet decided to go snoop around at the studio. Likely it would be a waste of time. Anthony Depalma seldom put in a personal appearance, but Trevor’s information implicated more than just Depalma himself.
Seated, as usual, behind her black lacquer desk Gwen Mueller greeted Velvet with a cheerful smile. “Well, hello there. It’s been so quiet around here all week, I’ve almost felt left out.” Her careless mop of blonde curls and bright blue eyes matched her sunny disposition.
“You didn’t miss much. Just the models prancing around in swim suits and Anthony drooling.”
Gwen laughed, unconsciously tapping the pen she held against the desktop. “I can’t picture Anthony Depalma drooling.”
“Oh? And how do you picture him?” Velvet teased. Gwen kept her infatuation with Anthony a secret from no one. But then nearly every woman with a pulse had sexual fantasies about Depalma.
“Usually in the back seat of a limousine and always naked,” she.” She confided in a theatrical whisper.
“As he ravishes you utterly, I presume.” Gwen nodded enthusiastically. “So, is anyone here?”
“Yeah, Anthony’s back in your office.”
Velvet felt the color drain from her face. Surely she was joking. Gwen wouldn’t have openly discussed her fantasies with Anthony in the next room. Would she?
Gwen laughed, obviously amused by Velvet’s panic. “I’m kidding, Vel. Lighten up. No one’s here but you and me. So what brings you by?”
“I thought I’d work out a schedule for next week.”
The phone rang, drawing Gwen’s attention back to her job. Velvet quickly slipped past her with a parting wave. The studio itself held no secrets. Velvet had spent too much time in the large, cluttered room not to know every nook and cranny. She strolled down the hall and glanced into a small office. Velvet didn’t think of the office as hers, though she probably spent more time there than anyone else at the agency. Still, she knew what each of the files contained and none of it was out of the ordinary.
/> “Velvet? Are you going to be here awhile?”
Velvet turned to see Gwen twisted about in her chair, peering around the corner. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe an hour.”
“Great. Do you mind if I run and have lunch? I’ll turn the phones over to voice mail. Tony’s expecting a package, so someone needs to be here.”
“I’ll hang around until you get back.”
“You’re a doll. Thanks.”
Velvet sat in the office and listened while Gwen gathered her things. Only after the soft buzzer announced Gwen’s departure did Velvet rise and cross the hall. Gwen’s absence made Velvet more comfortable with her nosy intentions. A variety of office supplies had been organized into neat stacks on several shelves and five, four-drawer filing cabinets were lined up along one wall.
With a careless shrug, Velvet pulled open the first drawer. Client files, organized chronologically. Nothing odd here.
The door buzzer sounded. Velvet quickly closed the drawer. She returned to the reception area to greet the visitor. The intruder was male, but with his back to her, she didn’t recognize him. “May I help you?”
“I don’t suppose Depalma’s here?”
Velvet hadn’t seen Micah in nearly a year, yet the change in his appearance still shocked her. He had visibly lost weight, and his face looked haggard and gaunt. He seemed to have aged ten years not ten months. “Are you all right?” She moved closer.
He just stared at her for a moment. “You still don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
He shook his head, his eyes sad. “Give this to Tony.” Micah handed her a manila envelope. “And tell him I said never again. And I mean never.”
Velvet started to question him further, but Micah turned and walked out.
Staring at the manila envelope he’d pressed into her hand, Velvet couldn’t resist temptation. She hurried into her office and unwound the string binding the lip of the envelope. Pulling out the small stack of photographs, Velvet frowned. Micah had sounded so dire. Had he only meant that he wouldn’t work for the agency any longer?
Velvet looked at the first photograph. The picture was perfectly framed and focused, though rather uninspiring. Had Micah taken these? His unmistakable style seemed to be completely lacking, there was no expression, no real emotion evoked by the pictures. The first showed Selena Vannoy seated across an elegantly set table from a dark-haired man. The man was unremarkable, common even. Velvet set the picture aside.
The second showed the man helping Selena into a limousine. It was no more moving than the first. A soft gasp escaped Velvet as she turned to the third photograph. The same man stood beside a bed and Selena knelt in front of him naked, her mouth wrapped around his cock. The man’s hands rested on her shoulders and the blissful expression on his face required no caption.
The next picture showed Selena kneeling astride the man, her head thrown back, his hands cupping her breasts. These were not artistic impressions of human passion. Micah had shot his share of nudes, but these were completely different. The other pictures were more of the same: Selena and the man in various sexual positions. But the pictures weren’t staged. Several angles focused on the actual point of penetration.
Were these blackmail fodder? Who was the victim? Selena or the man? Pornography? Did they realize they were being photographed? It could be prostitution. Why would Selena Vannoy need to sell her body? And what purpose did the photos serve? “This is horrible,” Velvet muttered.
“I doubt they thought so.”
Gasping, Velvet spun toward the door. The photos spilled from her trembling fingertips and spread out across the carpeting between her and Anthony Depalma. “Micah stopped by.”
“I can see that.” Anthony bent and gathered the pictures.
“I shouldn’t have been nosy, but I’ve always admired Micah’s work.” She finally produced the excuse. His flashing eyes and impatient chuckle told Velvet he didn’t believe her. Tension intensified, making the explicit nature of the photographs seem even more obscene.
With menacing slowness, Anthony handed the pictures to Velvet. She accepted the stack and returned them to the envelope. What did he suspect she knew? For that matter, what did she really know? He’d caught her looking at naked pictures of one of the models. What did that prove?
“Not quite your style?” His dark gaze bore into hers as she handed him the envelope.
“I didn’t realize Selena did erotica.” She tried to match his light tone. Her casual shrug felt rigid, forced. “It’s certainly not Micah’s best work. Somehow I don’t think his heart was in it. In fact, he said something along those lines. He said to tell you that he never wanted to do this sort of thing again.”
He set the envelope aside and crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly did he say?”
She took an unconscious step backward. He stalked her. “`Tell Tony never again. And I mean never.’” The cool surface of the wall pressed against her back. He took the final step separating them and placed his hands on the wall, caging her with his body.
“Why’d you open the envelope?”
His warm breath fanned her face. Velvet crossed her arms in front of her and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Micah sounded so ominous. My curiosity got the best of me.” Demurely lowering her lashes, she shielded her expression. If she openly flirted, it would make him suspicious, but now was probably a good time to stop resisting.
He took her chin and tilted her face up until their gazes locked. “Don’t cross me, Velvet. I don’t want to be your enemy.”
She began to protest. His mouth covered hers in the teasing hint of a kiss. For a moment she neither resisted nor responded. She waited for the tingling warmth, the magic. “Anthony,” she whispered against his lips.
His hands framed her face while his mouth moved against hers. Velvet was too consumed by anxiety to consider her response. If she allowed this, would he stop with just a kiss?
Unsatisfied with her lack of cooperation, he became steadily more aggressive. He pressed her to the wall, grinding his hips against hers, and deepening his possession of her mouth.
His tongue thrust past her lips and she panicked. She couldn’t pretend! Fear and revulsion clawed through her passivity, forcing her to act. She shoved against him. He didn’t budge. With frightening speed and clarity of purpose, his hand left her face and slid up the length of her thigh inside the loose leg of her walking shorts. Incensed and frightened, Velvet jerked away from his advancing hand and shoved harder against his chest. His fingers slipped inside the elastic edge of her panties, effortlessly finding her feminine slit.
“Stop it!”
He clasped his hand around her throat, constricting her air just enough to keep her silent. “I don’t mind it rough. In fact sometimes I prefer it that way, but I doubt you’ll --”
The door buzzer sounded.
“Velvet, I’m back.” Gwen’s greeting rang out in the reception area.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shoving away from the wall. He paused for a moment, his dark eyes burning into hers. “We will finish this. One way or another.”
Without a backward glance, he snatched up the envelope and disappeared down the hall.
Velvet stood there panting, unable to believe what had just happened. If Gwen hadn’t chosen that moment to return, would he really have raped her? Or was he just trying to frighten her?
Gwen’s warm laughter penetrated Velvet’s stupor. Stepping away from the wall, Velvet grabbed her purse and rushed out through the studio, overwhelmed by the need to be as far away from Anthony Depalma as humanly possible.
Chapter Seven
“How much do you think she knows?”
Anthony Depalma glanced away from his companion before responding. “Velvet has never been a problem before.” They sat in a secluded corner booth in a seedy backstreet bar. Anthony despised places like this, despised the sort of people found here. They were dirty, uncouth, and far too powerful a reminder of the person he’d
once been. “She can’t prove anything. I doubt she even realizes the significance of what she saw.”
“How do you think she’ll react?”
“She’s got a lot to lose and she knows it.” He shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “After today, she’ll probably quit.”
The sharp sarcastic laughter grated on Anthony’s nerves.
“Sure.” His companion sneered. “That’s why she hesitated all of two seconds before she opened Micah’s pictures. It’s not in her nature to ignore her curiosity. You’re a fool if you think she’ll ignore all these clues. We need to determine how best to control her.”
“Meaning?” Anthony shifted, making the dingy vinyl creak. He’d been content to operate around Velvet, to leave her protective ignorance intact. Her secure little world was about to be shattered, with or without her cooperation.
“Meaning it’s time to induct Velvet into our little club.” A strained silence followed. “You object?”
Anthony knew he had no choice. Savage pleasure stirred as he realized what would follow. “No.”
“Can you control her? She doesn’t seem to be as blinded by that gorgeous face as the others. We can’t afford another Jamie Lynn.”
“I’m well aware of that.” His mistakes were few, but his companion never missed an opportunity to rub his nose in them. “I’ll have to give it some thought. There are several ways I can approach her.”
“Fine.” That ended the subject. “What about Micah?”
“He’s outlived his usefulness.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
* * * * *
Detroit had never seemed so far away. A persistent little wave managed to reach his bare toes every so often. Micah hardly noticed. He’d come to hate the ocean, the endless sun and all the beautiful people who surrounded him. A couple on roller blades and several bicyclists passed behind him in a vague stream of tanned flesh and brightly colored clothing. He sat well back from the water’s edge on a small portion of Muscle Beach not overwhelmed with sun worshippers. He saw nothing. He heard only the pathetic moaning of his soul.
