by Grant, Livia
“You didn’t bring a purse, remember? I have everything you need until the after parties.”
Bullshit.
“Fine. Then give me my purse for the after party.” Piper tried to keep her voice steady between taking sips of air meant to stave off her full-blown panic attack.
“What is it you need? I can…”
“Just fucking give me a Xanax already.” Her frustration overflowed at having to explain herself.
When Danielle failed to start digging for the requested drugs in the huge bag on the backseat with them, Piper pinned her with her best Mistress Ice glare.
Unfortunately, an almost identical glare stared back at her.
“Didn’t you fire your last assistant for letting you take a Xanax before a public appearance?”
Bitch.
“Maybe, but I fired the one before for insubordination when he wouldn’t give me one.”
“Fine. I’ll be spending my time backstage tonight brushing up on my resume,” the PA deadpanned.
Piper’s bodyguard for the night sat stoically next to her PA, trying to keep a straight face.
Asshole.
Damn, she was a hot mess. Damn Antonio for running so late, he was going to have to meet her on the carpet. In a last-minute panic, she’d called to change her RSVP from one to two, opting to bring the best-looking eye-candy she had on speed dial. Unfortunately, he was also the most unreliable of the bunch.
“Just hang in there. I can see we’re only one car away from the drop-off. Let’s review. You and Michael get out. He’ll do a short sweep, then reach in to help you out. You’ll do a short greet, then hightail it into the arrivals tent. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll do a quick check of your makeup and gown before you walk the gauntlet. There’ll be three short interview stops along the way, then I’ll pick you back up at the top of the stairs for a final check before you’re seated. Any questions?”
They’d gone over this all already.
“You do realize I’ve done this before, right?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you remembered all the details due to the aforementioned Xanax debacle.”
Double bitch.
“Remind me again. Why did I hire you?”
“Because you need someone to be as ruthless with you as you are with yourself.” Danielle’s grin calmed Piper.
Triple bitch.
But she was right. Oh, Piper had never used those words with her PA, but they were the truth. That’s why Danielle was a keeper.
“Hold off on the resume until we see how the night goes, shall we?”
The attractive older woman chuckled. “I get two calls a week, trying to poach me. I don’t need a resume.”
“And yet you stick with me. Interesting.”
The limo that had been inching forward finally stopped next to a sign, DROPOFF. Just before Michael opened the door, Danielle answered.
“I love a challenge, and you, Ms. Kole, are never boring. Now, try to at least have a little fun tonight.”
A throng of fans pressed in as closely as the barricades meant to keep them a safe distance would allow. The arrival order of celebrities was carefully choreographed, so she heard her name being called. She took a deep breath and reached to take her bodyguard’s helping hand, hoping to exit the limo as gracefully as possible in her glittering, skintight Gucci gown. It was her favorite of the three gowns she’d be wearing that night.
Piper plastered on her showtime smile and stood, waving her free left hand into the air in the direction of the shouting crowd, knowing she was already on camera.
She felt the arm circling her waist just as his words hit her brain.
“You look magnificent.”
Nolan.
Her knees literally gave out. She would have face-planted onto the cement if he hadn’t been supporting her. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he leaned in to reassure her.
“I’ve got you, baby. Just smile and let’s head into the arrivals tent.”
Like a sheep being led to the slaughter, Piper followed Nolan’s lead, trying her best not to let the shock of seeing him register for the cameras. All it would take was a tiny gaff, and the gossip rags would smell blood.
The second they were in the relative privacy of the tent—a no camera or recording zone—Piper lifted her elbow and brought it crashing down into the washboard abs hidden under Nolan’s dashing tuxedo. His corresponding grunt of pain brought her Mistress Ice brain great satisfaction.
“How dare you do that? What a horseshit move,” she shouted, drawing attention from the dozen people gathered waiting for their turn on the red carpet.
Nolan recovered quickly. He had the audacity to yank her into his arms, holding her so tight, she couldn’t successfully knee The Rock.
Had she really just thought of his dick by name?
“That’s enough. Settle down before you make a scene.”
“Me make a scene? You blindsided me, damnit.”
“I’ve told you no less than a half-dozen times in the last week, I’d see you at the Oscars.”
She fought hard enough to be able to lean back in his arms and look up into his eyes as she retorted.
“See me, sure. From a nice, safe distance. Like fifty rows apart.”
“Yeah, I heard about you calling and requesting I be seated in the balcony this year. Thanks. It forced me to go to plan B.”
“Plan B?”
“You’re costing me a lot of money, Ms. Kole,” he grinned. “The sooner you get with the program, the sooner I can start spending my money to buy you more of these diamonds you seem to love so much.”
She was obscenely pleased, watching Nolan scanning her ears, neck, wrist, and even bicep, appreciating her ice collection.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Watch your language. You need to play the part of a lady tonight, at least until I get you home and in my bed. Then, the nastier the language, the better.”
“Fuck you, Nolan.”
“Yes, please.” The bastard had the audacity to grin that sexy grin of his before adding, “Are you ready to walk the carpet?”
“Not yet. I need to find my date. He’s supposed to be waiting here for me.”
“He is.” Only after she started to glance around for Antonio, did he add, “I am.”
Their gazes snapped together like magnets, and she knew instantly, he was telling the truth.
“Where’s Antonio?”
“Seems the only thing he wanted more than being seen with Piper Kole was the one-hundred grand in cash I delivered to him myself.”
“The what?” she asked incredulously.
He placed a finger under her slack chin, closing her mouth.
“Don’t look so surprised. I spent the same for three hours with you at roulette. The way I see it, we’ll be together through the show and the after parties. I’m getting a much better return on my investment this time, so I’m making progress.”
The man was certifiable—truly. Still, the fact he’d spent two hundred thousand dollars in the last month just to be in her presence was more than a bit flattering.
“Now, you ready?”
“For what?”
“To unveil us.”
“There is no us,” she spat.
“Oh, baby, there most definitely is an us.” Nolan’s hand moved lower, possessively gripping her ass through the sparkly dress. “I’m proud to say, I’m responsible for delivering over a half dozen orgasms to this delicious body in the last week, and I very much look forward to delivering several more tonight—this time, in person.”
“Oh, Mr. Boeing. We weren’t expecting to see you tonight… were we?” Danielle showed up next to her, carrying her big bag of goodies. Piper could see her assistant in her peripheral view, glancing back-and-forth between them.
“No, we were most certainly not expecting to see Mr. Boeing, yet here he is. He’s like a bad penny—always turning up.”
“I resent that. I’m more li
ke a superhero, showing up in time to keep disaster at bay.”
Piper let loose a snort that drew several glances in their direction. Only one person in the tent, however, was brave enough to approach them. She saw him coming and verbally attacked as soon as he arrived.
“You’re on my shit-list, buddy. See what you started by letting him use your phone last week?”
Shane stepped up next to Nolan, the two men making a damn fine display of Hollywood’s finest. The grin on his face told Piper he wasn’t fazed in the slightest by her anger.
Mistress Ice sure as hell was losing her touch. It galled her that not one man in weeks had been intimidated by her. While she’d taken a trip to her own pity party, Nolan was quizzing Shane.
“Where’s that little someone you’ve been keeping holed up in your bed this last week? I’ve been looking forward to meeting her.”
“Yeah, well, it seems I’ve met the only woman in the state who has no interest in being seen in public with me. Go figure.”
“Shane Covington has to go stag to the Oscars. That’s funny,” Piper rubbed it in.
Her old friend smiled brightly, leaning in to talk softer. “Maybe it is, but not quite as funny as Mistress Ice arriving with a Dom as her date.”
Nolan stepped in between them to break things up. If only they had been at Black Light—she’d enjoy wiping that sexy grin off Shane Covington’s face with her crop… literally.
He was saved her retaliation by someone near the exit of the tent, calling out, “Piper Kole, you’re up.”
“Seems it’s time for me to go to work. We’ll have to resume this discussion later, after the show,” she promised Shane.
“Oh, I look forward to it. In the meantime, I’d watch your six, Boeing.”
She could feel Nolan’s attention still on her. She looked up at him and felt her breath hitch from the sexy heat of his stare.
“Oh, she doesn’t scare me. Do you, baby?”
Her brain revolted, screaming at her to seize control of the situation. Mistress Ice would never allow Nolan, or Shane for that matter, to treat her like this—call her baby and put his roaming hands on her intimately in public.
Too bad Mistress Ice was nowhere to be found.
“Let’s go wow them, baby.”
The funny thing was, Nolan was right. She knew they were going to wow the crowd and the international press corp. And why not? She and Nolan made one hell of a power couple.
They were shuffled through the tent toward the exit that led to the gauntlet of reporters and a sea of photographers. Just before they stepped out, Piper leaned closer, pulling Nolan down so she could talk against his ear.
“Don’t forget, baby. Since we’re together, that means I’m in charge.”
Nolan’s broad grin warmed her from the inside out. “We’ll just have to see about that now, won’t we?”
Chapter 16
On the edge of consciousness, the pinch of a needle sticking her left arm felt like little more than a bug bite. Until a familiar warmth exploded in her veins, spreading what she had learned the hard way was a seductive poison—the poison that had stolen her childhood.
Disoriented, Nalani fought to listen to the far-off voice. Was it her father? No… it couldn’t be. He was in prison.
Familiar shame slammed into her, hitting her hard.
She surrendered to the euphoria, letting it wipe away her fear… the pain. God help her, she’d missed this so much. Some small part of her brain still fought to wake up from the nightmare she was in, but the rest of her body seemed to welcome the evil drug like a long-lost friend. It dulled the agony and tamped down the feelings of dread, leaving her languid… pliable.
Nalani fought to open her eyes to see whose hands were ripping the clothes off her body. Whose voice was mocking her nakedness? Whose arms were lifting her from the floor?
The first wave of nausea hit her hard, rolling her stomach in violent waves of protest. The taste of bile in her mouth mingled with the tang of her own blood. Panic raced in, fighting… trying to wake her up. She was in danger, but the poison was too strong. Nalani turned her head, spitting and sputtering.
“Bitch. You’ll pay for that.”
Her brain wasn’t cooperating as she fought to make sense of what was happening, falling deeper into the drug-filled abyss. Her ass hit a hard surface just before whoever it was carrying her dumped her in a heap. Even through the haze of the drugs, a sharp pain exploded in her chest. Was she having a heart attack? If so, this wasn’t what she’d thought it would feel like.
There was a new ripping sound she couldn’t identify. Then his hands were on her face, holding her head still with one hand while applying something that felt like electrical tape across her mouth. Too late, she realized he’d taken away her ability to scream. Why hadn’t she been screaming already?
It took all of her focus to get the message to her eyes to open. When she succeeded, she regretted it.
In her current disorientation, his name escaped her, but her brain recognized he represented danger. The red-faced, angry man had hurt her before. He wanted to hurt her again.
The metal of the handcuffs already restraining her cut into her wrists as she flailed, a lame attempt to get away. It was too late. She was losing the battle.
The ugly man had the nerve to laugh as he easily yanked her arms above her head, walking behind where she couldn’t see what was happening. Nalani strained to pull her arms free, but even without the drugs, he was too strong.
Her gaze fell on the water-stained ceiling, choosing to think about the roof leak from the summer before. It was easier to think about yelling at Frank to get the ceiling fixed than acknowledge the truth of what was happening. The stain told her she was lying on top of her one and only table, and he had secured her arms to the legs of the furniture beneath her.
As the intruder came back around into her line of sight, the thought flitted through her brain, she wished he’d tied her face down. At least then, she wouldn’t have to see his dangerous anger as he snatched her right ankle and started tying a rope around it.
Nalani gathered up all her strength and kicked, yanking her leg free and lifting it for a direct hit against his face. The blood seeping out of his nose was a small victory, but the unexpected injury only fueled his fury.
For the briefest of moments, she let herself hope she’d scared him away when he stepped out of her line of sight again. Too late, she realized it was to grab his next tool of torture—a stun gun that electrocuted her as he jabbed, holding it against her naked thigh for several long seconds. A burst of fire traveled through her whole body, making her feel like she was about to fall out of her skin. Pain and confusion merged, leaving her limp as she felt his gloved hands back on her ankles.
Her situation went from bad to worse as she felt first one, then the other leg lifted up and over her torso—secured to the legs of the table along with her cuffed wrists—leaving her completely naked, exposed, and subdued.
He’d already robbed her of her mobility and ability to speak. As she vaguely became aware of him taking his own pants off, she knew he was about to rob her of the last shred of innocence she might have. As horrific as the things in her childhood had been, she’d been spared from the most heinous of crimes—rape. With a sad certainty, she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky today.
His voice sounded as if he were in a tunnel far away. She was grateful to only catch snippets of his hateful words, but the word Viagra cut through the haze. Even in her fog, it struck fear in her, realizing her ordeal had the potential to go on for hours.
His pole was ugly. Her brain fought to remember where she’d seen it before—at work. He’d been hurting a different woman on that day. The memories were hazy, but regret mingled with fear. Why hadn’t she stayed at Runway?
She would be paying a very high price for that mistake.
He pierced her core without ceremony. While his cock was smaller than she was used to, the lack of lubrication drew a scream that
was lost in the tape over her mouth. He was a man crazed, pounding her body so hard, the old table beneath her started to creak under the pressure.
Nalani could do nothing to defend herself physically, so she welcomed the drugged haze that dulled her panic as seconds turned to long minutes. She closed her eyes, so she didn’t have to see his mocking sneer as he enjoyed violating her body. She let her mind drift, trying to slip away to another place—another time—where she’d been happy and safe.
Shane Covington’s face popped into her consciousness, and she fought to hold on to the feeling of safety she felt as snippets of memories started flashing in her brain. Could they be real, or had she just imagined the larger-than-life actor tenderly holding her? Oh, how she wished the memories could be real. As she felt her feminine folds turning raw from their abuse, she fought to hold on to the dream of Shane, instead of the reality of pain.
Her relief was palpable when the pounding thrusts stopped, and her attacker finally stepped away from her body. The sudden silence of the wobbly table highlighted the sound of her own sobs. With the tape over her mouth, she struggled to take deep enough breaths through her snot-filled nose.
Nalani had almost succeeded in catching her breath when the next line of fire hit her raw pussy. Her eyes flew open in time to see Henry Ainsworth’s arm in motion, letting the next strike of what looked like a small whip snap out, making contact with her most tender skin.
The tape was effective. It swallowed her screams as two strikes turned to four, then eight. The brutal whipping of her exposed inner thighs, pussy, and even stomach and breasts went on until she could no longer count. The only thing that made it through the agony-filled shroud were his spiteful words like whore, bitch, and cunt—the hideous names mingled with angry promises of making sluts like her pay for trying to ruin his reputation.
The relief of hearing the whip hit the floor was short lived. His Viagra-filled penis was back inside her, hurting worse than before, thanks to the streaks where the whip had broken open her skin.
