by ANDREA SMITH
Now I felt as if I’d insulted him. “Easton, I wasn’t implying that you’d be unethical or ruthless or anything. I mean, I wasn’t necessarily referring to countries like North Korea or Iran, but let’s face it, there are plenty of countries not specifically black-listed by the U.K., for instance, yet the U.S. has them blacklisted. How would you handle such a situation?”
“Great question, Darcy,” he replied. I could almost see his smile.”I take a very cautious approach in adding new clients. The particular segment of the business handling negotiations for sensitive intelligence contracts and contract renewal is handled by only one person within the organisation; the only person that has my total trust.”
“Oh?”
“Yes; that’d be me.”
“You mean you don’t trust anyone else within your entire corporation?”
“Not to handle that arm of the business. I think you’ll find my trust in people in general is not easily won, if ever.”
“Wow. Someone’s been burned once or twice.” He didn’t confirm or deny.
“I’ve got some pressing business to attend to at the moment…a merger that’s in the works. I’ll be in touch with you again, though I can’t say when. Take care and remember what I said.”
He ended the call. I figured I was dismissed for the moment and, if I hadn’t been so tired and exhausted, I might’ve been rankled by his audacity, but I was so I wasn’t.
Finally, I was home. I kicked off my heels, went up the stairs to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off all the way to the top. Eli was already home. I could smell the sweet, tempting aroma of his marinara sauce bubbling on the stove.
“I’m getting a shower,” I yelled down.
“Dinner in thirty,” he hollered back.
My shower was delicious; I dressed in a flannel granny gown that Mom had given me for Christmas. What the hell, it was comforting at the moment.
Eli and I had dinner together, which was scrumptious. I let him do most of the talking, preferring it that way.
“So when are you going to see Cain again?” I asked.
“Going to the movies this week,” he answered, sounding very chipper. “Hey, why don’t you and Easton double with us?” he asked, rolling his eyes at me.
“Oh that’s funny,” I replied, flipping him the bird. “I did have a call from Easton, I’ll have you know. We will be seeing one another again, so you can lay off with the jokes.”
He was giving me another one of those penetrating looks. “You’re seriously going to get involved with him?” Eli asked incredulously.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, my voice getting snappish.
“Oh come on. You have to know what his type is like; I mean, what they’re after, right?”
“Clue me in,” I replied, taking a sip of the fine Merlot he’d poured for us.
“I mean, sweetheart, it’s perfectly fine if you take a walk every now and then on the wild side with someone of his caliber, just please don’t invite your heart to tag along, okay?”
“Don’t worry about that,” I replied, twisting the pasta around my fork, “I do have survival skills intact, you know?”
“Yeah?” he asked, pouring more wine in his goblet, “Well, you might want to clue your ass in on that before your next sexapade with Mr. Easton.”
I stopped chewing immediately, looking quickly up at Eli in surprise. He rolled his eyes at me, sipping his wine. “I mean really, Darce? You’ve been limping around for two days because it’s been a while? That’s 5th grade lame,” he said with a snort.
I gave him a semi-obnoxious glare as I chewed threw some pasta. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He met my teasing glare with a serious look on his face.
“There’s nothing to tell, geesh,” I snapped again, irritated I wasn’t comfortable talking about it with Eli, whom I’m sure had at one time or another had experimented with some level of BDSM, though I was reluctant to tag what was done as even that.
“Okay, have it your way, or maybe I should say have it his way.”
“Look Eli, don’t dance around the issue here, okay? Say what you have to say.”
Eli looked uncomfortable with the conversation, but I could tell he wanted it out in the open, so I was waiting for him to put it out there.
“Okay, is Easton into sexual torture? I mean, I’m not asking out of curiosity; I’m asking out of concern.”
I immediately softened towards him, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “No, Eli; it was nothing like that, I promise you. It was just, you know, a little rough play involving some leather restraints and a rose.”
He looked aghast. “A real rose—thorns and all?!”
“No-no,” I said quickly, “It was a leather crop that looked like a rose.”
“I see,” he replied, somewhat relieved. “And you were okay with that? Did you have a safe word?”
“The answers are yes and no. It wasn’t like torture, I assure you; I enjoyed it big time. And no need for a safe word. Don’t blow this out of proportion, please.”
He considered that for a good sec, mulling it over. Finally, he just shrugged, but I could tell that he still wasn’t ready to drop the issue. “Hey, I’m not one for lectures, you know that,” he explained. “Just saying, if you’re planning to see him again, go into it with your eyes wide open. It may seem fun and pleasurable right now, I get that, sweetie…and maybe that’s the extent of it with him. Sometimes though, this type of sexual play can gradually escalate into something else altogether; I just want you to be cautious, that’s all. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable doing.”
I stood up and walked over to where Eli was sitting, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “Thank you for caring. I promise I’ll be careful, and honestly, I may never hear from him again. I’m not that naïve, okay?”
“Okay, Darce. Hey, you’re beat. Go on up to bed, I’ll clean up down here.”
I kissed the top of his head. “You’re kind of kickass, you know that? Thanks.”
“Oh, by the way, this means you cook and clean up tomorrow. I’m not letting you off that easy, sweetie.”
Once in my room, I climbed underneath my soft, warm sheets and reflected on Eli’s comments earlier. Was he right? Was Easton some type of sadist who would weave an intricate web of sexual play around me gradually until he caught the spider allowing no means of escape? I shivered, pulling the covers up under my chin. He definitely wasn’t in to the cuddling scene, but I attributed that to the fact I still hadn’t handed over that slip of paper at the time, so it was kind of still a ‘test-run.’ And though I still didn’t know what exactly Easton and I were…I did know that I wanted more.
chapter 15
~ Easton ~
I was at the Milan Fall Fashion Preview, having made secret arrangements to surprise Bianca. She was under the impression that merger negotiations taking place in Zurich had made it impossible for me to be there. The truth was, a merger of any magnitude would never have kept me away from the woman that was mine—on an occasion such as this.
I’d met Bianca three years prior at a business exposition in London. It was typical for the hosting society to staff female models to direct visitors to the various booths and displays set up to promote their products and services. That’s when I spotted the tall, dark-haired beauty with the exquisite sapphire-blue eyes. I was immediately drawn to her; it proved to be a mutual attraction. We became inseparable almost immediately; my little black book had become history.
Bianca traveled with me extensively, whether it was business or pleasure. I used my contacts in Paris, Madrid, New York and London to spearhead her modeling career. Within a year, Bianca Templeton was an ‘A-List’ runway model signed with the prestigious Ford Models Agency. Her dreams had come true and so had mine.
Now, two years after being signed, Bianca Templeton was the most sought-after fashion model for the top designe
rs. The lights dimmed in the giant auditorium as the models were announced one at a time, taking the runway and presenting the newest designs of Calvin Klein, Gucci, Chanel, Prada, Rodarte and a host of others. My pulse quickened as Bianca was announced, sporting the latest Chanel evening attire for this coming fall. She still took my breath away as I gazed at her long, lovely, silken legs gracefully walking down the carpeted runway. Her eyes were searching the crowd for something or someone. Had my well-kept secret somehow filtered back to her? Not possible. Then I watched as her eyes settled on someone in the crowd. Knowing her as I did, I caught the flicker of recognition, and then the look that followed. It was a look of pure love in her eyes; the look I’d seen many times now directed towards someone else.
I immediately turned to see who the recipient was of the look I thought had only been for me. It was Christopher! It was her fucking photographer, Christopher Rolando. Fuck me! I immediately felt anger and betrayal flooding my veins as I was catching the woman I had uncommonly committed to in the act of letting everyone know that she was fucking someone else.
I made a hasty departure back to the flat I owned in Milan, where she was staying. I had to sort this out in my mind. I needed verification of some type. The only proof I had was a ‘look,’ yet I knew that was all the proof I needed. I should’ve have followed my mother’s advice when Bianca and I had last visited. She’d told me only a fool would trust a woman like Bianca’s faithfulness. She’d chided me for not having her under the surveillance of a private detective, reiterating that most women cannot be trusted. She’d asked me what type of a fool I was. I’d responded the type that trusts.
I’d torn up the flat, looking for something, anything that might authenticate my suspicion. It didn’t take long to find just that. The pain still felt fresh, though it was two years ago. So many women since then, but until Darcy appeared on that beach in Belize, none of them had looked a thing like Bianca Templeton, the cheating, fucked-up whore that had made a fool out of me to the world.
My phone rang, interrupting the tortuous trip to my past. It was a welcome interruption, forcing me to put all of that pain and misery out of my mind once again.
“Matthews,” I answered curtly.
“Sir, everything’s in place with respect to the instructions you gave relative to Darcy Sheridan. She’s under surveillance, as requested. How often do you require status reports?”
“Daily, until I instruct otherwise,” I answered. “The GPS tracking’s been activated?”
“Yes sir. All devices are live; Ryan Dobbs is the operative on this one.”
“Fine; thanks, Colin.”
Ever since the weekend, I couldn’t shake Darcy from my mind. Initially, she’d sparked my interest due to the physical similarities between her and Bianca. Though Darcy was not as tall as Bianca who was 5’10”, she still possessed the same long, shapely legs, ample breasts, olive complexion and beautiful blue eyes. Darcy’s eyes had a bit more soul to them than Bianca’s, but of course, I might be biased since I indisputably loathed the (former) model bitch.
That’s right; I’d made sure Bianca’s assignments dwindled to nothing within months after our tumultuous break-up in Milan. It was small compensation for what she’d done to me, in my opinion, not only with Christopher Rolando, but the scheme they had going that took me less than an hour to unravel, once I’d discovered the documents in her lingerie drawer.
As it turned out, Bianca had discovered she was five weeks pregnant a month before the Fall Fashion Preview in Milan. She’d not even bothered to share the news with me. A week later, while traveling with me on business, she apparently arranged for an abortion in Amsterdam. As I gazed at the documents from the clinic she’d hidden away, I recalled that week we’d spent in Amsterdam. When I returned one evening from one of my daylong meetings, she’d been curled up in bed. She said she’d gotten her period and was cramping. I had no reason to question that; it wasn’t as if I tracked her menstrual cycles. I could still almost feel the single tear that had rolled down my cheek upon discovering what the murderous bitch had done.
I’d quickly composed myself, putting the flat back in order and then made myself comfortable in the bedroom next to the master suite, where I’d lay in wait for her return. The memories of that night once again invaded my mind with vivid imagery that hadn’t faded in the least over time.
“Would you like a glass of champagne, Christopher?” Bianca asked sweetly.”I feel like celebrating, how about you?”
“Of course, darling; we both have much to celebrate tonight. You were smashing this evening. I believe you were snapped more than any other model; I found myself counting.”
“Really? I’ve worked so hard for this moment. My career’s on the fast track; I’m making more money than I ever dreamt possible, plus I’m seeing the world through new eyes. Life is great! Cheers! The sound of crystal clinking had made me want to puke.
“I think you may have left out a couple of things, love.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” she said to him. “The thing I want to celebrate most is my eternal love for you; that goes without saying.”
“Of course, we need to toast good-riddance to the little bastard you were nearly saddled with as well. That was a close one, Bianca.”
“Indeed,” she replied, tapping her flute against his. “That would’ve been a career killer for certain.”
“As long as we’re talking about the future, how long before you break the news to Easton that you don’t love him and are leaving?”
“Christopher, you must have patience with me on that. He was instrumental in building my career. I need to deal with my departure very carefully or he could unhinge it altogether.”
“Certainly he wouldn’t be so vindictive if he truly loves you, right?”
“You don’t know him like I do. He’s had a horrid past that left him extremely distrustful of women. He’s only shared a bit of it with me, but I’d guess his mother had something to do with it. Constantly ignoring him and sending him off to distant boarding schools. At any rate, it will just take some time for me to extricate myself from him.”
“God dammit, Bianca! I fucking love you and the thought of you still screwing him is fucking driving me crazy!”
“Oh, baby,” she said soothingly, “Easton doesn’t make love to me; he rough fucks. I only tolerate it because I have no choice at the moment. Do you know he’s never, even said “I love you” to me? It’s always “I adore you” just like he adores all of his fucking possessions! Anyway, does it help to know that I always pretend it’s you I’m with while Easton fucks me?”
“No, not at all,” Christopher said, clearly irritated. “He’s a despicable bastard.”
“Come baby, let’s not waste time dwelling on it now. Come to bed and let me show you just how much I love you. Come sink yourself inside of me, Christopher. You’re so gentle and caring.”
Within moments, from the next room, I could hear the sounds of their love-making. Bianca was moaning his name over and over again. My heart was shredded; the sounds of him telling her how sweet her pussy tasted and how much he wanted to bury his cock inside of her reverberated in my ears. It took every ounce of restraint I could muster not to barge into that room and rip them both to pieces, just like my heart. I’d learned timing was everything.
Several minutes later, I heard Bianca begging for his cock. I knew that he’d obliged when I heard the sound of the headboard hitting the wall in measured rhythm. I knew Bianca’s vocals like second nature. I could tell when she was approaching orgasm. I’d crept from the room and, as her moans became more guttural, I knew the time was right. The door to the master suite was open; after all, they presumed they were alone. I walked through the entrance and stood at the side of the bed, as Christopher continued plunging his cock in and out of her, unaware he had an audience. Bianca’s head was rolling back and forth on the pillow, her eyes closed getting ready to climax.
With one arm, I reached o
ut, snatching Christopher up and out of her, flinging him over to the other side of the room. He landed with a loud thud, squealing a pathetic “Ummmph!” Bianca’s eyes shot open and, within two seconds, the passion was replaced with pure terror. She grabbed the bedspread, clutching it up against her breasts as if it could shield her. Her hands were trembling.
I tossed the papers from the clinic onto her stomach, thoroughly sickened by my own poor judgment and idiocy. Christopher wasn’t making a move, crouched down on the floor next to the dresser.
“Easton,” she finally croaked, “I can explain everything, love.”
“No explanation required, Bianca. I want you and your pimp out of this flat within ten minutes. I’m not going anywhere, in order to make sure it happens. I’ve already contacted Colin, and all of the locks to my various properties have been changed. All of my staff has been advised of your current status. You may contact Colin within the next couple of days and he’ll arrange for your belongings to be shipped wherever you wish.”
“My status? And just what is my status?” she snapped, some of her spirit now returning.
“You’re a murderous whore, whom I regret ever having cared about. I’m happy you’re gone from my life, and I’ll be even happier when you’re gone from my house. Now get to it.” I whirled around, focusing on Christopher. “You’re to leave immediately, dressed or not, I want your scrawny, limp dick out of here. Now.”
If I hadn’t been so devastated, I might’ve found it comical the way Christopher had scooped his pants up from the floor, doing a one-legged hop out of the room as he tried to get them pulled up before he fled into the night. I was right behind him, tossing his jacket to him, as he fumbled with the door handle, finally getting it opened to flee.
Once gone, I’d turned my attention back to Bianca, observing as she dressed quickly, grabbing everything she could manage and stuffing it into the designer luggage I’d bought for her. She was frantic to get away from me; I could only imagine how I looked to her at the moment, towering over her, not attempting to mask my fury.
