by Raina Wilde
It took her approximately half an hour to gather up her things before she left, leaving behind anything that Isaac had paid for or gifted to her. After that, she was gone.
Walking out of the penthouse didn't give her the rush of freedom she had been expecting, but maybe that was on a delay. She made her way straight downtown to find an internet cafe.
Like hell she was going back to AJ's house. She was going to have to seriously hustle to find somewhere to sleep tonight, but she was determined to do it for herself now – no matter what it took.
Chapter Ten
Everyone at the auditions was so complacent in the face of Jack's disappearance that it forced Marla to reconsider how they'd responded to her own. Had most of them noticed at all? Had Jack even noticed, until Charles made some offhand comment about her? The entire corridor of women she was walking through right now were paying absolutely no attention to one another. All their focus was on their lines – but in about ten seconds' time, they were all about to be equally disappointed. The role had already been filled.
She'd won the part.
It had taken weeks of hard work. She'd found a bar that was hiring, and willing to let her crash in the office until she could afford a deposit on a small apartment share in Brooklyn. She worked nights at the bar, and worked days on her craft, attending all the same open calls and auditions she had run for the first time.
This time, however, she wasn't taking chances. This time, it was war – Marla vs. Broadway. And Marla intended to win.
As the only person who knew where Jack had gone to, she sometimes felt his absence a little sorely – but she'd be lying if she said she really mourned him. She was closer to mourning Isaac, who was still alive; he was just far beyond Marla's reach now. The life Isaac needed her to live and the life Marla wanted were too far apart. The accident had shocked her into realizing that, and it was an understanding she couldn't go back on.
There was an Isaac-shaped hole in her life now, sure – but that was 1, 000 times better than letting her dreams run away from her in favor of the easy option. No doubt about it, taking care of Isaac had been the easy option.
She fought against texting him. If Isaac ever wanted to change his mind, she reasoned, then he would contact her. Both he and Benson still had the number. It hadn't changed – but the call never came.
Well. Not to her cell, in any case.
It was a cool November afternoon when the buzzer on her door rang. None of the others were home, so it was Marla's job to amble out of her room and answer it. She'd only just gotten in from rehearsal for the part she'd won, and she was slightly grumbly at having to answer to some salesperson whose products they neither wanted nor needed.
Then she heard the voice on the other side of the fuzzy old speaker.
“Marla, ” he said. “It's Isaac. Can I come in? ”
“Sure, ” she said, too stunned to say anything else – or to refuse. She pushed the release button, allowing him up, and glanced at herself in the mirror, her natural hair big and beautiful. She took more time to care for herself now, and it showed. She felt regal. She felt new.
But, shit.
She had no time to tidy the place up. Then again, no amount of tidying would make this place impressive to a man like Isaac, who was used to all the opulence and luxury his money could buy. She could only hope that the new, successful and self-supporting Marla would be impressive enough on her own, despite the shitty apartment she lived in.
He looked strange in the doorway, with his Armani jacket a neat clash beside the gray, graffiti-covered stone wall. “Hi. ”
“Hey, ” Marla greeted him, suddenly shy. “Do you want to come in? It's kind of, um… it's a little cramped, but it's home. ”
“Sure. Thanks. ”
Isaac stepped in, wiping his feet uselessly on the doormat – which was probably cleaner than the carpet, as it was newer. Marla realized that this was the first time she had ever seen Isaac out of his penthouse. For all she knew, it was the first time he'd left in years. If so, then this meeting was a hell of a lot more significant than just a simple fly-by visit.
“To what do I owe the pleasure? ”
“I miss you, ” said Isaac, far more outright than Marla had been expecting. She couldn't fight off the blush as he continued. “At first I missed you for the security – the chains, the code. But it's, ah… it's very quickly become clear that that's not everything I miss. Not at all. ”
“Isaac. . . ”
“I know it's a lot to ask, ” he said. “I know you're working now. I have, uh… ways of checking these things. ”Marla didn't doubt it. “I'm looking forward to seeing your play if I can, but. . . ”
This was more nervous than Marla had ever seen Isaac. When he paused to clear his throat, he bent to cover his mouth, and Marla spotted the hint of a blush at the base of his collar.
“I just have to ask you to come back, ” he said, quietly. “No rules – no… imprisonment. You can come and go as you please, just as long as… ah. You know. You come back. To me. If that's something you want. ”
The sincerity in his voice weighed so strongly against the cryptic and overconfident tone that she was used to hearing, and it made his words all the more impactful. Marla almost felt herself tearing up, swallowing hard at the thought that Isaac's feelings had been strong enough to propel him all the way out here to this tiny, shitty old apartment block, and to say these things – to put himself well and truly on the line, out in public. Anything could happen.
In thinking about it, she paused too long, and Isaac's gaze fell. “It's alright if you're not interested. I just had to ask. ”
“No, ” Marla insisted, quickly. “Don't – I mean. I am. I am interested. ”
Isaac looked up so fast it must have hurt his neck.
“I'd love to come back with you, ” she said. “I just… I had to prove it, you know? That I could do it, and that you wanted me, and. . . ”
“Well, ” Isaac said. His gray eyes were hungry, but not in the way they had been as a leopard, or when he was full of anger. “You did. You did that. ”
“We should, um. . . ”
Isaac needed no further invitation. He stepped closer without a pause, cupping Marla's face in both hands, and kissed her soundly on the lips. Marla gave a quiet, strangled cry, feeling the release of all the tension she'd been inadvertently holding since the day she had walked away. Replacing it was the old hypnotic pull she'd felt towards Isaac, but she didn't mind that at all.
She didn't know whether that magnetism was something to do with being a shifter, or whether Isaac was simply someone she was meant to be with. Either way, she didn't care. She loved this man for everything he was; whatever aspect of him caused this effect, that was perfectly alright with Marla.
“I want to fuck you, ” Isaac admitted, voice low and gruff against her lips. “If we can – your room, or…? ”
Marla grinned at the broken sentences, hands smoothing down over his back, and already feeling the heat pool between her legs at the frankness of it. “Sure. My room. ”
Her bed was small and creaky, and certainly nothing like the luxurious spreads that Isaac was used to – but none of that seemed to matter right now. Isaac's only focus was her clothing, and her body, and the feel of their lips against one another. It felt intoxicating to be the subject of that attention. As Isaac nipped away at the skin of her collar, smoothing his hand down over her chest to circle his thumbs round already-hardening nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt, she couldn't help but tip her head back, closing her eyes.
“God, I've wanted this for so long. ”
“Me too, ” Isaac assured her, hand moving down to slip under the waistband of her pants for only a brief second. “God, Marla. So long. ”
His touch, predictably, was firm and rough. All the gentleness was reserved for his expression, and his words; his hands and fingers, as they ran over her and then rubbed deftly at her sex, were another story entirely. It had been altoget
her too long since Marla had been fucked, and it was such a relief that it would happen like this, with someone as handsome and as capable as Isaac.
She heard herself moaning Isaac's name like a prayer, hands tight in the sheets underneath her, and the quiet laugh in return. “Enjoying yourself? ”
“Please hurry up, ” Marla said in return. “I want you. ”
Isaac couldn't refuse such a direct request. Slicking himself up with a healthy dose of lubricant, he lifted one of Marla's legs to kiss at the underside of her knee, skirt and panties already pushed aside. “I want you too. ”Pulling her closer to the right angle, he made sure he had Marla's eye contact before he guided himself in, thick and long inside her. Marla couldn't fight the groan that tore out of her, so loud that the neighbors would undoubtedly hear it.
Well, let them. She didn't plan on staying here for very long.
Only a couple more hours, in fact.
Isaac's hips set a fast and rough pace, hands firm around her ass to pull her closer in rhythm. Marla didn't feel she was doing much, but Isaac didn't seem to mind. Judging by the heady, filthy eye contact between them, he was doing quite alright by himself.
He slapped away Marla's hand as she reached to rub at herself, instead replacing it with one of his own. His fingers circled that nub of nerves slower, so clever and quick that it was blissful torture; she whined and begged for more, legs tightening around Isaac's middle, until he could do nothing but acquiesce.
“God, Isaac. ”She heard herself moaning like it was an out-of-body experience, eyes squeezed tight shut now for the climax. “I love you, I love you. ”
As playful as he'd been the rest of the time, Isaac wasn't playful now. He reached to smooth a hand over Marla's chest where her heart lay, fond and sincere as he brought her closer to the edge. “I love you, too, ” he told her – and they came together then a few moments after, one after the other in some order they couldn't describe, breath heavy and eyes shut and lost, lost, lost in the moment.
It took her a couple of minutes to come to once it was over, Isaac lazily stroking through her hair. They had to squeeze close together in order to fit on the bed, but that didn't seem to matter right now. They didn't need space, anyway; they needed closeness.
“Okay? ” he asked, voice soft.
“More than okay, ” Marla assured him. “But I'll be glad to get out of here. I want to go home. ”
Isaac grinned, leaning to give her a long, keen kiss. “Home, huh? ”
“Unless you want to move in here, ” Marla said, teasing, “but you're going to need to cover half the rent. ”
Isaac's laugh was warm and fond, arms stretching over Marla's middle to pull her in even closer – if that were even possible. “We'll be fine together, I think. You and I. ”
“Everything's always fine with you, ” Marla told him, closing her eyes to settle against his shoulder. “I don't think we'll be fine. ”
“More than fine, then, ” said Isaac – and the fact that he knew Marla well enough to follow that train of thought, finding the punchline before he could hear it, put a glow in Marla's belly she couldn't ignore. “Much more than fine. ”
Outside the window, the city carried on around them. Car horns honked, lights flashed on and off, and nobody knew or cared that the situation wanted ad from the paper had now well and truly been filled.
THE END
Midnight in Monaco
But when she wanders into a high-stakes poker room at the fabled Monte Carlo casino, she has no idea that she is surrounded by a ring of criminals who have mistaken her for an American spy.
With powerful crime boss Renaldo Jaquiennes now wanting Lydia dead at any cost, danger follows her every step as she teams up with a mysterious poker player who claims to be able to keep her alive.
Will Lydia place her trust in this seductive mystery man, or will his dangerous mission put her too close to harm’s way? And just how long will she be able to ignore the burning desire toward him that is building within her?
Follow Lydia’s terrifying journey as she lands in a deadly world that is beyond her experience. Will this case of mistaken identity be the end of her, or is it just the beginning?
Midnight in Monaco
Lydia Berkshire evaluated her reflection in the mirror. The satin gown pooled around her ankles in emerald waves as she stepped into the stiletto heels that rested on the plush white carpet of the hotel suite. The additional height lifted the fabric to skim just above the floor and allowed the risqué slit to peek open to the knee, though when she walked it would expose skin as far reaching as mid-thigh.
She adjusted the wide, square neckline over her breasts. The design of the gown lifted and cupped her body in a way that left no need for a bra. In fact, with her back exposed to the base of her rib cage, there was no opportunity for the undergarment had she wanted one. She smoothed her hands over her trim waist and turned to ensure that the seamless lines of her underwear left no traces of their existence.
She added an extremely thin silver chained necklace with a many-faceted diamond and a bold cuff bracelet before deciding that her outfit was the picture of perfection. She needed to be perfect tonight, she reminded herself. Her livelihood depended on it.
Lydia tucked a stray auburn curl behind her ear, grabbed her emerald studded clutch, and headed down to the lobby where her driver would be waiting. She had worked very hard to get where she was today. As a world traveling investment consultant she rubbed elbows with some of the most elite names in international business. She was on the prowl for investors for her most recent project, and Monaco was the place to find investors. The Monte Carlo Casino was where she would start, meeting and greeting some of the highest stakes gamblers; the type of men who would not blink an eye at throwing millions of dollars at her clients, the type of men who might have need of her skills for their own endeavors and investments.
She loved being able to work from any place in the world. Her dream had always been to travel and traditional employment had always left her miserable and unfulfilled. That was when she first became a suitcase entrepreneur. Lydia had started small, focusing mostly in the United States before expanding her services one continent at a time. Here she was now, on the French Riviera, one of the best in the business with the freedom to accept or decline any job that caught her interest.
She’d always wondered what it would be like to live in Monaco. Her brief visits here had shown her an extravagant lifestyle that she could only dream to attain one day. The percentage of unnaturally wealthy residents in this tiny region included some of the most influential business investors in the world. She had been surprised at the sheer quantity of people who resided in the area that spanned just over 2 km. She wondered how people with the finances to travel without concern for cost, could isolate themselves to such a small region. She guessed that they worked and played together in ways that only increased their joint wealth; the mere proximity of their allies and competitors allowing for convenient deals and updates with those who were as powerful and prominent as themselves.
Lydia rode to the casino in silence. She sipped from the flute of champagne that had been offered before entering the vehicle. She could afford these extravagances because she incurred very little overhead costs for her work. No office, no equipment that did not fit in her suitcase, and no regular staff.
When they pulled up in front of the massive, ornate building Lydia’s mouth dropped open in awe. The entire façade was lit against the darkness of the night, like some regal castle or estate. She had a hard time accepting that, for the casino, this was a night like any other.
Lydia smiled when her eyes caught sight of the enormous fountain that sat with regal presence in the center of the circular drive. The palm trees swayed in the gentle night breeze. She shivered with anticipation as she climbed out of the limousine and ascended the staircase into the casino. This, instinct told her, would be a night to remember.
Two hours later, Lydia sauntered into the elite h
igh-stakes poker room. She was a successful enough gambler to warrant an invitation to the selective group, though she took no pleasure in the activity. Truthfully, she had only learned enough to ensure her position in the room, and therefore have a chance at initiating a conversation with potential investors.
The silence of these isolated rooms was always deafening to her ears after the chaos of the central casino. Lydia strode to the nearby bar and requested a tall glass of pale champagne. She paid for a tray of poker chips and moved to the only remaining seat at the table. The antechamber was designed as a smaller replica of the main table room. Gilded ceilings with ornate, circular trays and a crystal chandelier that hung directly over the center of the ten-man table made the room sparkle like a palace.
She nodded politely to the only other woman at the table: a short-haired blonde in a red velvet dress. Lydia made an educated guess that she was no true player, but a guest of one of the men beside her. She mentally removed the woman from the list of potential investors. Of the remaining eight players, all male, she noted that six had acknowledged her addition to the table. A man to the left of the blonde glanced briefly at Lydia before placing his arm around the female and drawing her close to whisper in her ear. Lydia had never been one to encroach on another woman’s territory, so she eliminated him from her list as well. One man smiled nervously at her before continuing to shuffle his few remaining poker chips with only his right hand. His eye kept shifting across the felt as if re-playing old hands in his head and trying to determine how to beat them. She guessed he had lost more than enough for one night and struck him from her list. The four others that had acknowledged her did so with appreciative gazes and lusty smiles. Lydia was not looking to form any relationships other than the professional kind, and she would not risk offending a business partner by denying his advances. It was always better, she had learned, to keep lusts and passions out of her enterprise.
