by Lee Taylor
I push myself from the armchair and follow him to the window seat. It's a cozy nook furnished with pillows and soft throws.
"What are you looking for?" I ask.
"Nothing for you to worry about." He's gruff and opens another door on the far side of the sitting room. "Take a nap in the bedroom."
"I'm good, thanks." I pick through the books on the shelves. Curious George, The Complete Winnie the Pooh, Treasure Island, The Hobbit. "Does Mr. Ping have young children?"
"No." All three men scowl and mercifully they exit the room, leaving me alone with nothing but the clothes on my back.
I glance out the window. It overlooks the valley, lush with rows and rows of grapevines as far as the eye can see. The bright blue of the sky is a nice change from the muted haze at home.
A gardener wearing a wide-brimmed hat is trimming the bushes. His skin is dark brown, and he walks with a slight limp. I press my nose to the window to get a closer look. Could he be my father? Did he survive the jump and find his way to Australia?
I tap the window, hoping to get his attention, but he doesn't look up. He lowers his clipping shears and glances at his cell phone.
A minute later, Cliff appears from behind the hedge and whispers something to the gardener, no doubt reporting my arrival. My pulse prances like an excited puppy. Is the man he's talking to my father?
In three steps I'm at the double door, but when I turn the knob, I find it locked.
"Someone, let me out." I pound on the door, knowing how useless it is. Not only am I locked in, but Cliff also has my cell phone, purse and passport.
What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?
Chapter 15
I'm so angry I could rip my hair out. No one comes to the door despite my shouts. I stalk from the door to the window and back, and then kick the cushions on the rattan furniture before throwing myself onto the armchair. That's when I notice an electronic tablet on the end table where the man in the white coat had laid his things.
Even though no one's in the room, I scan for hidden cameras and furtively scoop the seven-inch tablet under my dress. Casually, I walk into the bathroom and step into the shower. With my luck, this is exactly where the perverts would have cameras. Nope, better try the walk-in closet.
I can't help but notice the makeup, shampoos, lotion and toiletries lined up in baskets on the bathroom counter. But when I open the closet door, my mouth drops to the floor. Rows and rows of dresses, jeans, blouses, and shoes, their price-tags still dangling, hang inside. I slip off my heels and try one of theirs. Exactly my size. Strange. How did they know?
Well, I better let Zach know I'm okay, so I shut the closet door and wake up the tablet. Dang. It has a passcode. I know nothing about the man who took my DNA except he's a lighter-skinned Asian, possibly Chinese or Tsinoy. Let's go for the obvious. Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero. Doesn't work. One. Two. Three. Four. No dice. Then I remember the Chinese realtors in the Bay Area always have phone numbers ending in multiple eight's. Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight. That's it.
I go into the settings and look for wifi access. It's protected but his tablet connects. I can't use the man's email app, so I open a browser window and log into my email account.
--
To: Zach
From: Vera
Subject: Where are you?
I'm holed up at Ping Crest Winery. Cliff took my phone, purse and passport and locked me in a room on the third floor. Can you believe he actually works for Mr. Ping? He's orchestrating the search and claims my father's in the vicinity, but won't let me know until the DNA is verified.
I don't know when I can get away, but I'll look up your aunt's B&B and meet you there. I hope you're okay.
Vera
--
I wait a few minutes for a reply and decide he must not have his phone on, so I tuck the tablet under a pile of towels and head for the shower. It's ultimate luxury with a marble surround, three showerheads, a hand-held sprayer. Loofah mitts and assorted body washes are lined up on a wide ledge large enough to lie down on. My father must hold a high position here with Mr. Ping, even if he's only the head gardener. I'm trying to remember what he did before, but I was too little and all I did was play in the greenhouse while he worked.
A loud pounding on the bathroom door alerts me. I turn off the water and say, "Who is it?"
"Cliff here. Dr. Sung left his tablet. Where is it?"
Oh no! I left the browser open to my email page. Let me be calm and lie. "Tablet? You mean his medicine? I don't see anything here but shampoo, lotion, oh, and aspirin in the cabinet."
"Electronic tablet."
"Nope, sorry, haven't seen it." I turn the water back on and rub the conditioner through my long hair. Let him search the room. He's probably too stupid to figure out the passcode. And do I care if he thinks I'm a liar? Not at all.
A click alerts me. Cliff opens the shower door and steps in. I cover my breasts and back into the corner. He's naked. Erect. Huge. It takes a couple of seconds for my voice to short-circuit my brain.
"Get out! Or, I'll scream."
He's blocking the shower entrance, chuckling. "How original. Actually, I intend to make you scream. It makes me hotter."
I climb onto the ledge, my knees up to my chest and my arms around my knees, my feet hiding my woman parts. "Sorry, all screamed out. Guess I'll take a rain check."
He advances into the spray and leans over me, kissing the top of my head. "It's a rainforest in here. You're already wet, hot, steamy, and very, very moist."
"Am not." I hug my knees tighter, and stare at his feet. Long, smooth feet, ten toes, high arches, blades he could waterski on. My heart is on overdrive, and I'm quite aware there's a deliciously hot, perfectly sculpted male closing in on me.
"I'm not that kind of woman."
His lips are soft against my ear. "No, you're not. You're a healthy, sexy, beautiful, and respectable woman, and I'll do anything to fulfill all your desires."
He runs one hand down the back of my hair, still slippery with conditioner, and the other hand cups my face, attempting to turn me toward his lips. It's getting hard to keep my breath steady, because my body wants to let loose, relax, and let him pleasure me. It's not like I'm a virgin or headed to the nunnery, and I've had plenty of sex without love. In fact, it's the only kind I allow. But I tuck my chin deeper into my arms.
Would Zach mind? But then, we're not in love or anything. Free agents, right?
Cliff is on his knees in front of me, muscles rippling. Beads of water trickle over his smoothly waxed chest. I dare not look further down, so I focus on the jagged Maori tattoo covering his entire left shoulder and chest. He takes my left hand and rubs it across his clean-shaven jaw. "Vera, I've wanted you for a long time. Look into my eyes."
His usual bluish eyes are dark green with desire, and his expression is serious, intensely hot, as if he's looking into the deepest well of my lust. He traces my cheekbone lightly and circles my mouth. I'm barely breathing and need to back away, but his movie-star looks, bedroom eyes and the fact that he's not joking for once keep my gaze drawn to his.
His eyelids lower half way, and then his lips are on mine and I'm drinking in his strong, hot tongue, and hating myself. The water is still running. The shower stall is steamy and humid. Every nerve in my body is pulsing in a slow burn, and even as I cast for a reason to stop, my mind comes up blank, and the pleasure synapses fire in ever increasing frequency.
Cliff groans my name and opens my knees, his hand slipping between my legs. Lowering his head to my breast, his fingers rub circles around my opening. I gasp and clutch his neck as he latches onto one of my nipples. A strong finger probes me, and I'm almost unconscious as shooting sensations spiral through my belly and chest. My eyes squeeze shut. If only . . .
"Oh, Zach! I want you, Zach."
Everything stops. Cliff pushes me into the cold tile wall and shuts off the shower. The door swings open, and he turns out of the stall. My hair's still wet and hanging
over my face, my head lowered in shame.
What. Have. I. Almost. Done?
***
After a few minutes, I ascertain that no one is in the suite. I wrap myself in a towel and find underwear in the dresser. It's filled with lacey, sexy thongs, panties and see through bras. One is less sheer and fits perfectly. It's like they prepared everything for me. I think of what just happened with Cliff in the shower and shudder.
Did they bring me here to be a sex slave?
I pull open the other drawers, relieved there are no whips, chains and handcuffs. Instead, I find baby doll lace pajamas, fluffy pink bunny slippers, and a velour robe.
I pick the most modest dress in the closet, a stretchy black textured drop-shouldered one with three quarter sleeves, embellished with super-fine silver sequins. No surprise, the dress fits like a glove and hugs my figure, showcasing every curve. The inside lining is soft and silky and it goes halfway down my thigh. I accentuate it with a chunky bracelet of silver square pyramids, and another one made of interlocking black onyx waves, finishing with long black twisted metal earrings.
The tablet is still under the towels. I wake it and check my email. There's a message from Zach.
--
To: Vera
From: Zach
Subject: Re: Where are you?
I'm so worried about you. They didn't hurt you, did they? I called the police but they won't do anything. They say you're an adult and haven't been missing long enough. I forwarded your email mentioning you were locked up, but they haven't gotten back to me.
I'm still on the road. The company wouldn't rent me another car, so I had to take the bus. I won't get to Melbourne until tomorrow. This bus is stopping at every town along the way.
As for getting away, there's a secret exit underneath the wine cellar and a tunnel leading to my father's fruit stand. Go to the back row behind the barrels. There's a trapdoor under a grate. I'll meet you as soon as I can.
Zach
--
I type my reply.
--
To: Zach
From: Vera
Subject: Re: Re: Where are you?
I'm fine. They're not hurting me. They took a DNA test, but it might take a few days to get the results.
I'll get one of the guys to take me on a tour of the vineyard and look for the trapdoor. Please take good care of yourself and don't worry. Vera
--
Footsteps stop outside my door. I hit 'send' and shove the tablet under the bed. The door opens without a knock, and Cliff stands there wearing a grey Armani suit. Dr. Sung, the man who took my cheek samples, is next to him.
I clear my throat and fluff my hair, glancing in the mirror of the dresser as if I had been accessorizing. My feet slip into the black stilettos, useful to have if I want to spike someone's hairless testicles.
I step back as Cliff strides past me into the room and glares at me. Dr. Sung plays with the knot of his tie, and his left eyelid twitches. I wonder if he knows the reason for the DNA test.
Cliff throws the towels off the bed and flips over the bedspread. "I know it's here. The wifi router log shows Dr. Sung's tablet is connected."
"Maybe Ben or Dex picked it up, or one of the servants." I move to the side of the bed and cross my legs. "When are we having dinner? I'm starving."
He practically growls. He's so angry and puffed up. "Don't blame the servants. Dr. Sung says he was browsing the web before we came in, and that was the last time he had it."
I'm not a thief, but the tablet's my lifeline. I grab a nail file from the night table and examine my fingernails. "Maybe he placed it down and forgot where. I wasn't blaming the servants. They seem so efficient, they might have safeguarded it."
Cliff opens the door to the bathroom and pulls out the drawers. Then he heads to the dresser and flips all the sexpot underwear onto the floor, getting more and more angry. The doctor looks embarrassed. He wrings his hands and ahems several times before Cliff looks in his direction.
"She might be right," the doctor says. "I ran into the gardener, and he showed me the new roses, and then I stopped at the gatehouse to talk to the guard. I might have left it there. Let me check with him."
Cliff wipes his fingers through his thick, dark hair. "Fine. Why don't you do that?"
I expect him to leave with Dr. Sung, but he doesn't. Instead, he shuts the door and advances toward me, his eyebrows lowered. "I know it's in here somewhere, and I'll find it if I have to rip every shred of clothing from your body."
I've had enough of Mr. Bad Boy Cliff Morelli's aggressive attitude. I stand, all my five feet plus four-inch heels and keep him at arm's length with a palm-heel to his chest. "So what? You've seen me naked already. Why do you have me locked in?"
"So you won't go running back to 'Zach, Zach, oh, Zach.'" He mimics me, but his jaw is bulging, his lips tight, and a vein on his forehead throbs. He's staring at me as if I were his wayward girlfriend and owe him an explanation. If anything, I owe myself an explanation, except I know too well who I fantasize about, and it's not the hulk standing in front of me.
Cliff's eyes flicker, and he loses the staring contest. He rubs the back of his neck. "Well, fine. Have it your way. Whatever. If you want to see your father, you'd better be nice to me. I'm the estate manager here."
"Yeah, yeah, so you say." I waggle my head annoyingly. "I'm beginning to think this was all a trick to get me to Mr. Ping's estate. Think he has a singing gig for me? Next thing, you're going to tell me you're my manager."
A smile slides across his face. "Hey, that's a good one. How did you know? Just think, me and you on a luxury tour bus, traveling across the continent. Or a yacht, sailing the seven seas, or even a hot air balloon."
I poke his chest. "I'm not joking. What's this trip really about?"
"You." He sighs, folds my hands into his and goes into romantic mode. "You deserve better than to slave as a nurse in a clinic. Your talent, your voice, beauty, fragrance--everything about you fascinates me."
He kisses my knuckles slowly and looks at me with lowered eyes. "Allow me to escort you to dinner. That dress is so delicious I could eat it off you for dessert."
Whatever, Mr. Un-Romeo. I should never have let him fondle me in the shower. Hadn't I had enough for one day? But then, I haven't had real sex for months, the kind that fills all my voids, and makes me as lazy as a koala, high on eucalyptus oil.
Zach and I should have opted for the hotel room this morning.
Cliff clears his throat and knocks me back to reality. I glance at the mirror and say, "I haven't had time to put on my makeup, and I need my purse."
"I'll have a maid bring it around."
"With my cell phone and passport?"
"That depends," he kisses another knuckle, "on whether you change your name or not."
I yank my hand away. "I have family back home. Stop being mysterious and either tell me what's going on, or let me go."
He steps into the sitting room. "I'll give you a few minutes to put on your makeup, even though you look great without it."
I suddenly remember my manners. "Thank Mr. Ping or whoever for the clothes. I'm just borrowing them and will return everything."
"De nada, mi amor." He blows me a kiss and shuts the door. Show off!
Chapter 16
It's been three days, but no one has told me the DNA results. Thankfully, the servants retrieved my luggage from the airport and sent it to my room, but my cell phone and charger are still missing, along with my passport and purse. The battery on Dr. Sung's tablet is running low, so I leave it off most of the time, only turning it on to check my email.
--
To: Vera
From: Zach
Subject: When can you get away?
I crawled through the tunnel yesterday, but the grate is locked from your side. I'll ask my father if he kept a copy of the key.
Is your father truly there? Or is there some other reason they're keeping you? Send me a reply that you're being held agains
t your will, so I can get the police to raid.
I miss you, Zach
--
To: Zach
From: Vera
Subject: Re: When can you get away?
I miss you too. They're being very nice to me, but I haven't met my father yet. The maid who does my room says some of the gardeners are Filipino, and the head gardener is a man in his mid-fifties who came from California. I haven't been able to speak to him, because every time I go jogging, Cliff stays at my side.
It turns out Mr. Ping is a fan of my singing and is arranging a benefit concert for the community. I'm practicing with the keyboard accompanist. Maybe you can come see me sing and then try to get backstage?
I don't want to get the police involved yet. I have to get to the bottom of this mystery, and I'm not in any danger.
I hope all is well with you, Vera
--
I slide the tablet into my suitcase not a moment too soon.
The door clicks and Cliff enters with a bouquet of flowers. He looks annoyed as his eyes scan the room, as if looking for hidden cameras.
Suppressing the chill on the back of my neck, I smile and receive the flowers. "Hey, what are these for?"
The scowl disappears immediately, and he gets all dreamy-looking again. "Para mi amor."
"What's with the Spanish?" I sniff the delicate peach colored roses and tiny bell-like lilies.
He seems flustered and quickly wipes his mouth.
"With a name like Morelli, I would have figured you're Italian." I toss the dried up flowers he brought a few days ago into the wastebasket and arrange the new ones into the eggshell china vase.
"I'm a mystery." He smirks, his eyes almost blue in the sunlight streaming through the window. "What would you like to do today?"
"Glad you asked." I slip on my platform heels and walk toward the door. "First, I want to meet my father. You've had plenty of time for the DNA test. After that, a tour of this wonderful estate you manage. You must be quite talented to be able to run the entire operation at such a young age."
His cheeks pink, and he stands straighter. Flattery with arrogant men works so well. Besides, I need him to loosen the chains.
