Nightclub Surprise

by Michelle Love

  “We’ll recreate it, pretend we never met until now.”

  “We will…”

  Outside in the pool, under the blazing Crete sun, they swam together then came together to make love, reliving every moment of their meeting and realizing the other’s fantasies of that night. Sofia wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed into her. They made love in the water, then on the hot tile of the patio, Sofia straddling Ivo and riding him hard. When the sun got too hot to bear, they retreated back into the cool of their bedroom and played their games again.

  Afterward, wrapped in each other, exhausted they talked some more. Sofia told him about the first few years of her life, born in American to a white American father whom she never met, and an Indian mother who had been a Professor of Molecular Physics. Ivo was surprised. “Wow. So, you and she had wildly different passions?”

  Sofia grinned. “We did, but to her credit, she always encouraged me to follow my heart, my instincts. I’m sure she would have loved me to go into the Sciences but that was never going to happen.”

  “What about your stepfather?”

  Sofia hesitated. “For years, right up to the minute my mom died, he was the best father figure you could imagine. That’s why it hurt – it still hurts – so much when he flipped. I guess if I was generous, I could say the grief drove him mad but…”

  “It’s no excuse for what he did. What about this step-sister?”

  Sofia’s eyes darkened. “She’s psychotic.” She looked at Ivo. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone else?”

  “You have my word.”

  When she spoke, her voice trembled. “I’m almost one hundred percent certain…no, I know for a fact that Tamara caused the death of her mother.”

  She saw Ivo’s shock. “You’re sure?”

  “Tamara more or less told me. She hated my mother even more than she hated me. One day, I could only have been thirteen or fourteen, she said to me ‘You know, Mothers can be very clumsy.’ I had no idea what she was talking about, it seemed so random. But then she went on. ‘Sometimes they just…fall down.’ And she smiled at me and even at that age, I knew what she meant. I asked Jonas about his mother’s death, and he told me she had fallen down some stairs, hard concrete ones that led down to their wine cellar. Judy was still alive, had only just fallen when Tamara found her. The thing is…no-one had known Tamara was home from school that day. The doctors said had an ambulance been called earlier, Judy might have been saved but it took Tamara a half hour to call. She said it was due to shock.”

  “Jesus.” Ivo looked sick.

  Sofia nodded. “At her mom’s funeral, Jonas said Tamara didn’t cry, just stood there with a blank expression, holding her father’s hand.”

  Ivo gathered her to him. “Thank Christ you got away from that family.”

  Sofia sighed. “Apart from Jonas. I miss Jonas.”

  Ivo stroked her face. “Then he’s always welcome.”

  “You would like him. He’s very down to earth. He teaches – he loved my mom and she encouraged him to teach. He doesn’t give a damn about his father’s money.”

  “When we get back, we’ll contact him, yes?”

  Sofia smiled at him. “I would like that. We still have to tell my father his blackmail won’t work now.”

  “I’m looking forward to that.”

  Chapter Twenty

  In the end, it was Desiree who told Fergus Rutland. After failing to find out where Sofia had gone, Fergus went to the apartment his private detective had told him Sofia was staying at.

  Desiree opened the door, wrapped in a silk robe and glared at him. “What do you want, Rutland?”

  Fergus bit back a retort. This woman, gorgeous and statuesque was still intimidating to him, but he could not be rude to her. She had helped save Sofia’s life, after all.

  “Please, I’ve just come here to see my daughter.”

  Desi didn’t smile. “She’s not here.”

  “Would you tell me if she was?”

  “I don’t lie, Mr. Rutland.”

  “Forgive me. Will she be back today?”

  Desiree have him a half-smile. “I doubt it. She’s on her honeymoon.”

  Fergus rocked back for second, and then sighed. He had never intended to follow through on his threat to have her deported, fancying he could persuade her to come home with him. But still…married? “I see.”

  Desiree was obviously enjoying his discomfort. “What’s the matter, Rutland? Surprised she made a decision without you? That girl lived on the streets for six months – you think she didn’t grow the hell up during that period? You don’t get to call the shots in Sofia’s life anymore.”

  Fergus felt nothing but defeat. He dropped his head into his hands. “Christ. I fucked up, I know that.”

  There was a silence then Desiree, sighing, opened her door. “Come in. You look like you could use a drink.”

  Down the hallway, through a crack in his door, Grant listened, his rage a burning thing inside him. Sofia was married? To the Zacca asshole? Fucking whore. He waited until Desiree had closed her door then stepped out of his apartment, taking the stairs up to the roof. Once there, he let out a howl of anger, bellowing it out over the rooftops. It was lost in the breeze, the spitting rain. She was married. The moment you said I do, you signed your own death warrant, Sofia. Grant smiled grimly. No, wait, you were always going to die, it’s just now…it’ll be sooner than I’d planned. You won’t get to celebrate your first anniversary, beautiful.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tamara had expected Penn not to call for a few days – after all, he must be grieving for his girlfriend and child, she grinned to herself. The report of the accident wasn’t headline news, but buried inside the local pages. Pregnant Mother Falls to Her Death in Freak Accident. And now Tamara knew his girlfriend’s name. Willa. Willa Kline and her unborn child were dead. Penn Black would be in a state of grief, but Tamara knew she had to be patient. Any move to preempt his contacting her might make him suspicious. As far as he knew, Tamara didn’t even know where he lived, let alone that he had a wife. No, she would wait for him to call.

  In the meantime, she concentrated on her business venture. The club, now renamed Le Petite Mort, the French euphemism for an orgasm, was already garnering attention from the BDSM community. Tamara didn’t care that her more adventurous acquaintances knew she was the owner; she reveled in the notoriety of it. She also didn’t care that she had spent all of her father’s investment on the hidden murder rooms in the basement. They were so well hidden that she and Grant could enjoy their torturous games without fear of discovery.

  She decided to call him now, as she observed the designer putting the final touches to the club’s main room. Alcoves with purple velvet curtains for privacy, day beds which could fit two or three or more in each, flattering lighting, an endless array of toys and lube. The kinkier stuff could be found in the private rooms in the maze of corridors leading through the club. Exposed brickwork, old fashioned light fittings – it really was a palace of kink.

  “Long time, no hear,” Grant said, his voice amused.

  “I miss you,” Tamara purred, “Our club is looking magnificent. You should put your little campaign on hold and come see it.”

  “You know what? I might just do that. Things are…quiet, here at the moment.”

  “How is my darling ex-step-sister? Still breathing?” Tamara gave a grim smile. In her mind, Willa Black and Sofia were almost the same person – an annoying bug to be smashed against a windshield.

  “For now.” Grant’s voice took on an edge she couldn’t identify.

  “Christ, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her sweetness and light as well?”

  Grant made a disgusted noise. “Of course not. My only regret is I’ll only get to kill her once.”

  Satisfied, Tamara switched back to her seductive purr. “Good. You know, she should really be our first kill here, don’t you think? The fun we could have with her bef
ore you cut her open.”

  She was getting turned on by the mere thought and she heard Grant’s breath quicken. “That would work. I know she’s into kink – I saw her and Zacca fucking for the world to see. Glass box, packed club. And she was loving it.”

  Tamara laughed aloud. “So, the perfect little princess is an exhibitionist, huh?”

  “Sure is. With that body of hers, she could rival you.”

  Tamar stopped laughing. “That little bitch has nothing on me, and don’t forget it.”

  Grant changed the subject. “The only thing is getting her back to the States, Tam. I think she and the Zacca asshole are pretty entrenched here.”

  Tamara winced. She hated being called Tam. “Well, there must be a way. She’s a burgeoning star in the art world, right? I’m sure some gallery owner here could be persuaded to give her crappy paintings a home for a while. Then we could take her.”

  She heard Grant sigh. “Tamara, do you not know who the Zacca’s are? She is protected. They have security…and when it comes out their son has married the burgeoning new star, she’ll be even more protected.”

  Tamara went very still. “What?”

  “Sofia married Ivo Zacca.”

  Tamara’s blood ran cold. “That fucking little upstart married a freakin’ billionaire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck!” Tamara tried to calm herself down but the thought of Sofia hitting pay dirt made her rage boil over. “She is dead, Grant, I don’t care what it takes. Sofia Amory is dead. Agreed?”

  “Oh, agreed, but we have to be careful. See what you can do to arrange a New York installation for her – at least then we’ll have a starting point. And calm the fuck down. It’ll be okay.”

  Tamara hung up the phone, and took a deep breath. No. This would be better, she told herself. To take Sofia’s life just when she thought she had her happy ending. Tamara felt herself calm. This would be so much crueler and therefore more satisfying. She grabbed her iPad and Googled Ivo Zacca. Damn. Sofia knew how to pick them. Ivo Zacca even outdid Penn Black in the looks department. She gazed into the picture, at his gorgeous green eyes and smiled. She wondered how big his cock was, what kind of lover he was. She intended to find out before she broke him.

  I will bring your world down, Mr. Zacca, and break your heart. Her cell phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen, her heart lifting.

  “Hello darling, how have you been?”

  There was a muffled sob at the end of the line. “Tamara?”

  “She smiled. “Yes, darling…whatever is the matter?”

  “Can I come see you?” Penn sounded if he was barely keeping it together. Tamara panicked a little – usually they met at Tension, but somehow, she didn’t think that would be appropriate for his mood.

  “If course baby, but how about I come to you? You sound like you’re in no fit state to drive.”

  He gave her the address she already knew so well and she told him she would be there as soon as she could.

  Tamara grabbed her purse and stalked back through her almost-ready-to-open club and grinned. Everything was working out just perfectly.

  Penn was drunk and almost inconsolable. He fell into her arms once he had opened the door and Tamara had to wrestle him onto his couch. There were photos of Penn with Willa all around but Tamara said nothing. “Darling, what’s wrong? Let me help you. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.”

  She went into the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee, returning to check he was still with her. He was sobbing now and she went to the bathroom and ran a hot shower.

  “Come on, baby.” She managed to get him undressed and into the shower, stripping herself and stepping into with him, mostly to prop him up. His mouth tasted of scotch and cigarettes – surprising Tamara – she hadn’t known he smoked but clearly, he was in such distress that he was looking for any comfort. When he started to kiss her, she didn’t pull away. Even hideously drunk and so distraught his eyes were almost swollen shut, she still wanted him. They made love on the floor of the bathroom, then again in his bed, Penn taking her roughly, first reaming her cunt into submission, then her ass. Tamara was used to angry sex, but this was on a whole other level. They fucked until dawn then Penn fell asleep in her arms.

  Tamara’s body ached and when she knew he was deeply asleep, she eased out of his embrace and went to the bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Her make-up was smeared, but her eyes were alive with excitement. I did this…I made this happen. Tamara ran the tap and splashed water on her face, wiping away the smudged eyeliner from her eyes.

  She heard Penn call for her. “Just peeing, darling, I’ll be right there.” She used the toilet and washed her hands. Climbing back into his bed, she pulled him into her arms, resting his head on her chest. “Are you okay?”

  Penn looked up at her, his dark eyes full of pain. “No. I’m not. I came home a few days ago and found her. I called the paramedics but it was too late for her. She was pregnant and…oh god…”

  He was about to break down again but Tamara wanted him to say the words out loud. “Who, darling? Who died?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and wrestled with his emotions before finally meeting her gaze. “My sister. My sister died. They think she fell down the stairs but I don’t know why she was even using the stairs, the elevators were working and…oh my god, Tamara, how the hell am I supposed to face this? Face her husband when he comes home?”

  Tamara was in shock. His sister? Oh Jesus H. Christ…not his girlfriend …or his child… She didn’t have to fake the shock on her face and Penn, misreading it, fell into her arms again. “I wanted her to meet you, to know you. She would have loved you. She and I…we were all each other had until she met Jake. Our parents were long gone, and finally she had found him, married and got pregnant all in a year. He’s military, stationed in Afghanistan. I spoke to him yesterday. He’s destroyed.”

  “I’m so sorry, my love.” Tamara didn’t know how she felt – her victory was lessened, certainly, but now, she knew…Penn had no-one else but her.

  As her distressed lover buried his face in her neck, Tamara Rutland began to smile.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Adria wrapped her son in a warm embrace. “Darling, it’s so good to see you. How was the honeymoon? And where is my beautiful daughter-in-law?”

  Ivo tried not to show how shock he was at his mother’s appearance. In the two weeks since he’d seen her, at his wedding, she seemed to have lost more weight. Her cheekbones were prominent and there was a grey pallor to her olive skin. He tried to smile. “Sofia’s just down the hallway, talking to her ex-step-father. She wanted to tell him herself that she wanted nothing more to do with him. She’ll be along soon.”

  “Good, good. I have missed the two of you.”

  Ivo looked around. “Where’s Dad?”

  Adria rolled her eyes. “Out buying me gifts, I should think. Poor Walter, he really doesn’t know how to handle my illness, so he tries to do what he does best. Spoil me. It’s very sweet, but I really don’t need any more diamonds.” She sighed and sat down. Ivo sat opposite her, his heart thumping uneasily against his ribs.

  “Mama…don’t hide from me. The cancer is worse, isn’t it?”

  Adria hesitated then nodded. “I’m afraid so, Piccolo. Darling, it’s spread to my liver, and to my brain.”

  Ivo closed his eyes, fighting back a roar of grief. His beloved mom was telling him she was going to die. “How long?” His voice was scratchy, gruff. Adria took his hands.

  “A year, maybe less. Darling, all I ask if that we make my time as fun as possible. You have given me so much joy all of your life, and now with your lovely Sofia, and my grandchild soon to be born.”

  “God, Mama, I wanted mine and Sofia’s children to know you too. This isn’t fair.”

  “Ivo Zacca…life isn’t fair. You should know that by now. It doesn’t work out the way we plan. Do you think I wouldn’t have rather stayed married to Walter? Yes, we
both were unfaithful, but we should have fought to stay together, maybe in an open marriage. Such things were frowned upon though.” She drew in a deep breath as Ivo studied her.

  “You still love Dad.”

  “I never stopped, nor did he stop loving me. We just didn’t want to make our lives off-kilter, for you. We divorced because it seemed the best way, and then we were both free to sleep with who we chose without bitterness. But your father is and will always be my darling love.”

  Ivo nodded slowly. “I understand that feeling now. With Sofia.”

  Adria smiled. “You both have a lot of getting to know each other, but yes, I feel it in my bones. Sofia is the one for you.”

  “More than Clemence ever was?”

  “I adore Clemence, but no, you and she were not destined. She is a scientist, you are a man of the arts. Sofia is your true heart.”

  Ivo smiled at his mother, although his heart was breaking. “I still can’t believe you’re sick, Mama.”

  “The cancer hasn’t robbed me of my fight, darling. I’ll ignore it until I can no longer.”

  Ivo was quiet on the way back home later. Sofia held his hand. He had told her that his mother’s cancer was terminal and Sofia had mourned with him. He asked her what transpired between her and her step-father, but, with a haunted look in her eyes, she told him she didn’t want to talk about it. “Bad enough he came here. It’s over, it’s done. It’s time to carry on with our lives now.”

  He pressed his lips to her temple. He was so conflicted, it was exhausting. He was heartbroken about his mother’s illness and yet overjoyed being with Sofia. Becoming a father was exiting too, yet he was troubled about Sofia’s father and what he might do to take her back into the Rutland fold. He didn’t want Sofia anywhere near the Rutland’s especially after what she had told him about the clearly psychotic Tamara. The thought of harm coming to Sofia…god, it haunted him.

  And then there was his work – which he knew he had been neglecting. He had so many emails to reply to, and he had a commitment to Desiree and the gallery. She had approached him about expanding their partnership and that too was something he was excited about. For the first time in his thirty-seven years, he felt settled somewhere, in this beautiful city. He felt like Paris had always been waiting to welcome him home. Walter’s mother, Ivo’s grandmother, had been French, after all and now he could imagine raising his children here. Not yet, though, he thought, not for me and Sofia, not just yet. Sofia was only young and on the cusp of great things in her career. They had plenty of time.