Nightclub Surprise

by Michelle Love

  Fuck you, Fergus Rutland, for taking my faith away. Fuck you. Sofia felt hot tears on her cheeks and dashed them away No-one was going to take away her happiness now. She would fight to the death to protect it.

  She had no idea how literally that pledge would manifest itself, or how much damage would come to everyone she loved.

  Chapter Nine

  The interview with Elli was fun, and Sofia found herself telling Elli far more about her past than she expected. Afterward, however, as they were walking towards Piazza San Marco to meet Ivo, Sofia got nervous. She stopped Elli and turned to her. “That stuff about the Rutland family…I don’t want that in the piece, please. I’m sorry.”

  Elli shook her head. “It’s okay, Sofia, I told you, nothing goes ahead without your approval. I don’t blame you, they don’t deserve any of the attention you’re about to get, nor any of the praise. They abandoned you. Fuck them.”

  Sofia relaxed. “Thank you, Elli. I just…I don’t want them to think they won, that their actions still mean anything to me.”

  Elli studied her as they walked. “But they do?”

  Sofia sighed. “Yes. I still have this trust hang-up, or rather, this feeling everything will blow up in my face when I least expect it.”

  “It’s understandable, but, Sofia, I think we all feel that to some extent after a traumatic event. It takes time.” Elli squeezed her arm. She looked at where they were headed, and Sofia was surprised to see her friend pale a little. “Not this way,” Elli said, steering Sofia away from a small alleyway.

  Sofia was curious but didn’t want to intrude. They chatted easily as they met Ivo and sat down to another delicious meal.

  Sofia patted her stomach. “I think I may have put on a few pounds since I met you, Ivo Zacca.”

  Ivo grinned. “Good, that just means you’re healthy.”

  “That’s right, Ivo told me you had meningitis when you met.”

  Sofia rolled her eyes. “Well, I thought it was a good way to meet guys.”

  Elli laughed. “It’s unusual.”

  “How did you meet Indio?”

  Elli’s face softened. “We were childhood friends – rather he was my brother’s best friend, and I feel in love with him almost instantly.” Her face clouded a little and she looked away from the couple. “There were a few years when we were apart, but now, thankfully, I got my dream life with him.”

  Sofia smiled, dying to know what else had happened but she could see Elli didn’t want to talk about it. “And your two children?”

  Elli beamed. “Enzo and Florentina. There’s only a year or so between them, and both are toddlers still, so they’re a handful but I’m just glad we have them. Florentina bullies Enzo – it’s pretty funny.”

  Sofia almost told her about Clemence’s pregnancy then stopped herself. If Ivo hadn’t mentioned it, then it wasn’t her place to talk about it. It was another reminder of how little she had to do with that side of his life. She hadn’t called Clemence yet, hadn’t had time but she decided, when they got back to Paris, she would.

  After lunch, and after telling Elli they would see her later at the gallery party, Ivo took Sofia to ride on a gondola through the canals of the city. As they were steered along the waterways, Sofia couldn’t take her eyes from the beautiful buildings either side of them and when the gondolier took them into the Grand Canal, she sighed happily. “It’s heaven here,” she said softly, hearing Ivo’s soft laugh.

  “It is one of my favorite places on Earth. I’ve even considered living here.”

  She smiled up at him. “Must be nice to be able to decide when and where you’re going to live.”

  Ivo nodded, conceding it was. “But hey, you did too.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s the same. Living on the streets, and illegally, by the way. My visa ran out a long time ago.”

  Ivo frowned. “Hasn’t Desi arranged a new visa?”

  “Only temporary. They have a lot of questions about where I was those six months, which we have yet to answer. Until we do…”

  Ivo sighed. “Well, we can fudge those details. Say we were living together.”

  Sofia shook her head. “You could go to jail and here’s no way I’m risking that. If they say no to me living in Paris…well, I’ll just have to figure something else out.”

  “We will figure it out. And don’t worry about me, I can look after myself.”

  Sofia didn’t want to have an argument, so she just nodded. At the end of the gondola tour, they walked back to the hotel to rest before the evening’s event.

  “Resting is not what I had in mind,” Ivo said and Sofia laughed as he took her in his arms. The day was warm, and the balcony doors let in a fresh breeze. They stripped each other slowly before laying down on the bed. Sofia trailed her lips across his collarbone as Ivo stroked her belly.

  “Did you enjoy fucking in the alleyway last night?”

  She nodded. “I did, but then I love fucking you anywhere.” Ivo hitched her legs around his waist, teasing her cunt with the tip of his ramrod-hard cock. She moaned in frustration as he pushed in a little way then withdrew. “Ivo…”

  She wriggled as he did it again, his gorgeous face lit up as he laughed. “Such an impatient girl.” He reached over and tugged one of his ties off the back of the chair beside the bed. “I think we’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

  He wound the tie around her wrists and pulled them above her head, lashing the tie to the bedposts. Sofia felt excitement mix with trepidation inside of her. Ivo wound another one around her eyes, and she felt a little bereft at not being able to see his beautiful face, but when he began to trail the tips of his fingers up and down her body, she shivered with pleasure. “Now you won’t know where to expect my lips, my tongue, my hands…my cock. Sofia, darling, do I have permission to touch you anywhere? To fuck you anywhere?”

  She nodded, her sex become wet at the thought of it. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his touch. His thumb, the skin slightly rough, traced a circle around her navel over and over before trailing down to her clit. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue gently massaging hers. “Sofia…” he whispered and her heart began to race, her belly quivered at the sound of the love in his voice. She tightened her thighs around his waist, feeling his cock notch into her opening then with one hard stroke, he was inside her, filling her. It drove her mad that she couldn’t touch or see him, but she also liked the way he was in total control of her body. He brought her to orgasm with his firm thrusts, his huge cock filling and stretching her, her cunt swollen and wet as he fucked her.

  She moaned as she came, whispering his name over and over, and he gave her no time to recover before flipping her onto her stomach and gently parting her buttocks. “Yes?” He whispered, his mouth close to her ear and she nodded. Gently, he eased into her ass and Sofia gasped, the pain quick but also pleasurable. Ivo took his time, fucking her slowly, gently, making sure she felt as much pleasure as he did. Her climax this time was mellow, her senses racing, her mind whirling. She felt altered, in a good way, that now she was willing to try anything with him, become more adventurous with their love making.

  “Ivo?” They were laying together, resting, and Sofia leaned her face against his chest.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Yes, my darling?”

  “We should try other things…I’d like to.”

  “Such as?”

  She smiled up at him. Her hands were still bound but Ivo had pushed the blindfold from her eyes. “Like this. I like it when you have control over me like this. You could tie me up more, or…” She stopped, lost. She laughed wryly. “I guess I’m not clued up on all things bondage, but I’d be willing to try anything.”

  Ivo smiled down at her. “That’s good to know. What we’ve done is quite tame, and I myself have never gone deep into the BDSM world, but it’s something we could try. There’s other things…some of which I’m into the idea of, somethings I’m not.”

  “Like what?”


  Ivo hesitated. “I’m not into blood-letting, or knife-play. No Angelina and Billy-Bob stuff.”

  Sofia sniggered. “Good, neither am I. I did like fucking in public.” She nodded over to the huge windows that looked out over the Grand Canal. “You could fuck me up against the glass, at night. People wouldn’t know if they were really seeing it or not.” She felt his cock begin to stiffen against her thigh and grinned. “Oh, I see you like that idea?”

  “Hell, yes, I do,” Ivo sounded breathless, almost. “The thought of other men admiring your beautiful body while I fuck you appeals. Maybe that’s just my inner Neanderthal coming out.”

  Sofia considered. “No, I could go along with that – in the right setting. Aren’t there…places we could go to do that?” She was blushing furiously now, despite being so turned on she felt as if she could come just from their conversation. Ivo obviously felt the same as he rolled her onto her back and slid his cock into her.

  “There are places that cater for that, yes. What about – and I’m only suggesting things here so don’t get freaked out – threesomes? Or foursomes? Personally, you being fucked by me and another man, consensually of course, is a private little fantasy. Not one I’m asking you to do, just sharing.”

  “You wouldn’t be jealous?”

  “Not in that situation, no. I have been to orgies before.”

  Sofia’s eyes widened. “You have?” Something inside her was being awakened as she imagined fucking Ivo and other men, knowing it would give them both pleasure, made her wetter. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that, but we could get a professional escort to join us some time, if you wanted. A man or a woman,” she added, flushing. Ivo grinned down at her as they made love.

  “Are we really talking about this?”

  Sofia nodded. “I know, it seems bizarre, but you have opened up a new world for me as far as sex goes. Actually, scrub that, as far as living goes. I want to experience everything I can with you, Ivo, you are my addiction.”

  Sofia felt her face burning. Had she said too much? By the adoring look on Ivo’s gorgeous face, she hadn’t. He made her come again, gasping and shivering, then pulled her tightly to him. “Sofia?”

  “Yes, my darling?” He was brushing his lips against hers, back and forth, and it drove her crazy with desire. She felt his lips curve up in a smile.

  “I’m so in love with you, my beautiful, extraordinary Sofia, so much in love with you.”

  Sofia’s eyes filled with tears. “And I love you, Ivo Zacca. I’ve always loved you, from the beginning, always…”

  Ivo crushed his lips against hers and they began to make love again, forgetting the time, forgetting everything else but the two of them.

  Chapter Ten

  Fergus Rutland stared at the profile in the glossy society magazine. So, Sofia was in Paris and about to become the next big thing in the art world. So many emotions welled up inside his chest. Pride. Shame. Love.

  When Devika, Sofia’s mother, had died, something had gone out in Fergus’s life. He couldn’t bear to see Sofia, so beautiful, so like his beloved wife, around his home and he knew, if he explained it to her, she would refuse to leave, she would have wanted to care for him. Sofia was everything good in Fergus’s life, which was why he had to throw her away.

  That’s what he told himself over and over – that he had done it for her benefit. The true fact of it was, Tamara had always hated Sofia, been jealous of her curvy, voluptuous, soft beauty and kindness, and had persuaded the grief-stricken Fergus to not only bury Devika outside of the family mausoleum but to banish her daughter.

  Why the hell had he gone along with it? He loved his daughter, yes, but he knew the viper she was. She was exactly like he had been before Devika had come along. Cold, aloof, lacking in empathy. Jonas had been the victim of the family – Fergus’s first wife, Judy, was weak in some ways, but as ruthless as her daughter and her husband. When she had fallen from the stairs and smashed her head open on the marble floor, it had been a great shock…to Jonas and Fergus. Tamara had not seemed either shocked or particularly grief-stricken, although she put on a performance at her mother’s funeral. Fergus had heard the whispers at the wake – how exactly did Judy fall? Suspicious eyes cast at him, at Tamara, but never at the quietly devastated Jonas.

  Fergus didn’t want to think about that. He touched the photograph of Sofia. She looked older, more self-assured. Her black hair now hung almost to her waist had bright blue highlights, her dark eyes ringed with kohl as she stared into the lens of the camera. She looked beautiful and so much like her late mother it made Fergus’s heart hurt. He read through the piece again. She would debut her work at a gallery opening in Paris at the end of the week. Fergus picked up his phone and called his assistant. He detailed what he wanted. “Get me an invite to that opening, but use a pseudonym. I don’t want Sofia running scared. And book me a flight and hotel to Paris. Actually…book two tickets for the return flight.”

  He put down the phone. It was time. It was time to bring Sofia home.

  Tamara ignored the doorman at her father’s club and pushed her way in. She could have cared less that no women were supposed to be admitted – the Rutland name meant access to anywhere, as far as she was concerned. She found her father in the garden of the club, a gin and tonic on the table next to him, reading a book. “Hey, Pa.”

  Fergus looked up, annoyed. “Tamara, I come here to escape family, not to be harassed.”

  “Cool your boots, Pa, I brought you the business plan you wanted.” She handed him a thick, bound stack of paper. Fergus put his book down to take it, and as he did, the book slipped and a folded-up piece of paper slipped out. Tamara was too quick for Fergus.

  She smoothed out the magazine article on her knee and Fergus sighed. “Tamara…”

  “So, the street urchin showed up in Paris, did she?” Tamara’s voice was spiteful, and she began to read the article. “Huh. Doesn’t mentioned us once. So much for family loyalty.”

  “You can hardly blame her after what I did.”

  Tamara rolled her eyes. “You did the right thing, the only thing to be done.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore.”

  Tamara went very still. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Fergus looked at his daughter steadily. “It means…I’m bringing Sofia back home. Where she belongs. There’s an art community here who would welcome someone of Sofia’s talents with open arms. And, Tamara, I miss my daughter.”

  “Step-daughter,” Tamara hissed, then took a long breath in, calming herself. She stared out at the lovingly tended lawns and chewed her lips. “Never mind about her, Dad. I need an answer on the club. We have a lock on it until tomorrow, then another buyer gets to bid.” She thawed slightly. “You’ve always wanted me to have a focus, a passion, this is it.”

  “An exclusive club for an elite clientele?”

  “Like this one, except skewed towards the younger market. By invitation only. Hoping to capitalize on the disposal income of the city’s young and beautiful.”

  Fergus started to read the business plan. “Sounds well thought out.”

  “It is,” she said, “There’s a whole culture that isn’t being exploited.”

  Her father looked up at her. “Young professionals with disposable income in New York? Isn’t that who every club is aimed at?”

  Tamara gave her father a chilly smile. “Not this exclusive. I want to move into attracting only the very elite, the very…discreet.”

  “What kind of club is this, Tamara?”

  Her mouth hitched up. “Somewhere people can meet and, let’s just say, enjoy each other without judgement.”

  Fergus glared at her. “A sex club?”

  “Nothing so crass, Father, more like somewhere people looking for a high-class hook-up can meet. The club is just a club. A safe space for the elite, if you like.” How easily the lies rolled off her tongue.

  Fergus sighed. “Whatever.” Tamara saw him glance back at the magazi
ne clipping. She had to admit: her hated ex-step-sister looked beautiful. And now she was going to be a big star in the art world. Tamara studied her father. It wouldn’t hurt to soften him up, stop him asking too many questions.

  “If you want to contact Sofia, just do it.”

  Fergus looked at her askance. “Did you hit your head in the last few minutes?”

  Tamara shrugged. “If it makes you happy to see her, what do I care? It looks like she’s pretty entrenched in Paris so she may not be as easy to persuade to come home as you think.”

  Fergus’s eyes darkened and he looked away from her. “We’ll see.”

  Tamara wanted to get out of the cub now. “So, you’ll sign the papers?”

  “What? Oh, yeah. Go, open your club. I am glad you’ve finally found something, Tam. I’m sorry if I seem a little distracted.”

  He really was almost out of it, Tamara thought as she kissed his cheek. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you too, sweetie.”

  As she drove away, back to the city, Tamara should have been thinking of her new club, so much more than what she’d described to her father. It would be the most debauched club in the city if she had her way, and behind the scenes, she and Grant could play their blood games. She did consider her club, but now she was thinking of someone who she would absolutely love to take there. Someone who she wanted to destroy, corrupt and finally, kill. The one person she hated, the one person who knew her darkest secret.

  Sofia.

  Chapter Eleven

  They had been back in Paris for a week and the grand opening of the La Galerie Desiree was less than twelve hours away. Sofia glanced at her watch. Actually, eleven hours and forty-three minutes. She felt nauseous. At the last minute, an artist had pulled two canvases from the opening, and Desiree had commissioned two abstract pieces from Sofia. Working furiously, she had got them done but now was having trouble deciding how to hang them. Desiree had moved her pieces from the relatively low-key alcove area to a more prominent position and Sofia felt overwhelmed.