Beyond the Masks

by Nicky F. Grant

  David’s jaw dropped. “You think that’s a good idea? He’ll only camouflage whatever he’s hiding.”

  “Probably, but my burning gut tells me he worked with AMG to secure Icarus Descending. I wasn’t born yesterday, David, and there has to be a way to sway him off track. Catch him in the act. Something…” Her eyes went wide.

  “What are you up to?” David leaned forward. A sly smile appeared.

  She tapped a finger on the table. “He felt it too. I know it. There’s no way he missed it. Men like him can pick up the scent of an aroused woman anywhere.”

  “How are you going to catch him?”

  “Play to his charm. Become all starry eyed and bending. He’ll be putty in my hands. The tougher the exterior of the man, the harder he falls.”

  Corporate domination roused her appetite, and she scooped a huge bite of meat into her mouth. The thrill of beating Gavin at his own game also provided the avenue toward discovering his motives behind cheating Omega.

  “Sure. But have you considered how out of practice you are?” He blotted the corners of his mouth.

  The comment wasn’t rude but, rather, pragmatic. David not only understood her business life but also her dating life. Or lack thereof. She pushed her plate away.

  “Maybe what you need is a night out. Brush off your old skills. It’s been, what, a year?”

  A year? No. Two years since she and Jacob were together. And the last time she felt the all-consuming, shoot-her-through-the-stratosphere amazing connection with someone. She shuddered.

  “Two, but who’s counting?” She waved her glass in the waiter’s direction. “Two years and another margarita to wash that realization down.”

  “Doll, seriously, you need to get laid. Especially before conquering the man who invented the word sex.” He removed a card from his wallet and slid it over to her. “Here.”

  Big red print blazed the words The Resort with a phone number. “What is it?”

  “A pleasure club.” He smiled.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked in a skeptical tone. “Does Sean know you’ve been checking into these places again?”

  He tilted his head, and his dark brown pompadour flopped to the side. “Have you forgotten he occasionally ventures into the dark side with me? You should go. It has a different crowd.”

  “How so?” Now her curiosity tipped the scale.

  “They have a unique way of hiding your identity. With you being a bigwig in the music industry, you can’t be too careful.”

  “Right. Keep going.”

  “For starters, you can wear a mask to conceal your face. Also, any tattoos or other features proving identification can be covered.” Waving his hand over her wrists, he assured her. “So those tats will not be seen.”

  She covered the inked flesh, protecting them from view. When her dream of being a mega star failed, she’d gotten them. The colorful images of falling stars provided a constant reminder to continue pushing forward no matter the outcome.

  “But what if I don’t want to hide who I am?” Every day she suppressed who she was from the real world. She put on an invisible mask at work to make others believe she was a tough businesswoman. The façade wore thin, but it was the only way she knew how to remain successful and be taken seriously.

  “You don’t have to.” He shrugged. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  She nodded with a sigh, rubbing her wrists to soothe her racing mind. “Okay. What else?”

  “You get a stage name. Kind of like a stripper, but not the trashy type. Which is a bummer, because I could totally see you as a Candy.”

  “Shut up!” She playfully threw the napkin at him.

  He caught it, sticking out his bottom lip. “Aw, that hurt. Maybe they could call you Goliath.”

  Shaking her head, she chuckled. What would her name be? It seemed silly, but on further consideration, she thought it best no one see the real her. At least for now. She glanced down at her tattoos.

  “Star.”

  “Hmmm…Star.” He mulled over her selection. “How apropos. I think it works.”

  “What’s your Resort name?” she asked smirking at her friend.

  “I never reveal my secrets,” he said quickly, placing his hand across his chest in a dramatic gesture. “It’s supposed to be anonymous.”

  “Come on. I told you mine. Besides, I need to know so I can avoid hitting on you or vice versa.” She batted her eyelashes.

  “Who said I would hit on you? You’re hideous and a woman,” he said deadpan. His lip twitched, sending them into laughter. “It’s Delicious or D for short.”

  “And you said they avoid trashy names.”

  “Let’s just say I’m special.”

  Slumping into the back seat of Omega Records’ black SUV, she tapped the business card on her thigh. What would it be like to experience a D/s relationship again? There was no doubt she was out of practice. But she had never been with anyone other than Jacob in that way. Would she feel comfortable surrendering to another male?

  She understood what it meant to be submissive in the purest form. Submission was instinctual to her. It was in her core. It was as necessary as breathing, yet she lacked a partner as skilled as Jacob to bring her back to center. Sure, she played the powerful role at work, but not having the escape from her daily guise made her hollow. Had she misplaced a piece of herself, or was Jacob holding it for ransom?

  During the eight years they were together, he’d introduced her to submission. He’d discovered a pent up need to control her during sex to which she gave herself—body, mind, and soul—without question. She loved him and trusted he would never hurt her.

  The sexual part of their journey brought them closer. He’d listened to things she enjoyed and things she didn’t like, always adjusting their sexual play to meet each of their comfort levels. She would try anything Jacob asked, and he respected if she didn’t care to do certain things again. All built on years of understanding and layers of trust.

  The Resort, however, would be different. It would mean submitting to an unknown person. She’d be at the mercy of someone she hoped would have some experience picking up on non-verbal cues during sex. Blind trust. It was insane to even consider it. If she chose to visit The Resort, all her limits would be pushed.

  But the compulsion to wake her submissive side from hibernation poked her insides. Placing herself in Gavin’s world meant dusting off her submissive and sexual side to play his way in the boardroom. Or at least let him believe she was. Ryan Digmore was a big fish in a small pond, and she would be damned if she lost him to AMG. This was the only way.

  The Resort would provide the tools essential to compete with Gavin. If she was honest, she couldn’t deny the sweet anxiety rolling through her veins at the idea of jumping into a submissive state with a stranger. A wave of heat consumed her when she imagined the sinful pleasure of a man’s hands, his mouth, and his commands. All while his face remained hidden behind a mask. She pressed her thighs together.

  David was right. It was time to get back out there and experience something new. Giving over her body was the easy part. Separating her mind and not submitting her soul—with no interest in being with someone long-term—was another.

  Would she enjoy it to the degree she had before? Would she fly?

  Jacob hit the gas of the silver Aston Martin on his way to congratulate his new band, Icarus Descending. The wind tousled his hair as he took to the streets of New York. His excitement and triumph thrummed through his veins, enhanced by the powerful engine as he bypassed a yellow taxi.

  The familiar surge when he conquered the next up and coming band gave him a rush like a gambling addict beating the house. His job as CEO of Avalon Music Group inflated his ego, making him feel as powerful as a god. He always got his way, especially when it came to making his label the best in the industry.

  But the surge wasn’t as high this time. When he found out Omega Records was courting Icarus Descending, he assumed it w
ould be easy. And when he won the bid, the surge felt underwhelming. Flat.

  This would kill Shane. Visions of her flashed before him. Her blue eyes sad as her full lips parted in shock when she found out they had decided to sign with his label instead.

  He shook off the guilt. This was business. Icarus Descending was the next generation of rock music, a sound AMG prided itself on. His record label could take them mainstream quicker and with more access and publicity to offer them. Omega Records was second rate to AMG as far as he was concerned. So he’d found a means to get them to sign.

  Jacob stopped right in front of the restaurant and parked. With a casual toss of the keys to the valet, he entered the main doors. Ben, the lead guitar player and vocalist, tamed mohawk pushed to one side, and wearing torn jeans and black dress shirt, greeted him.

  “Jacob. My man,” Ben said as he put his hand out to shake. “How are ya?”

  “I’m on cloud nine and thrilled to be celebrating this success with you. Your band will be at new levels in the coming year. We’re happy to have you on the AMG team,” Jacob replied, taking his hand.

  Josh, the drummer, slapped him on the back. “There’s the man that changed our lives!”

  “I think this calls for a toast.” Jacob waved down the bartender. “Five shots of Gran Patrón Burdeos Añejo. Neat.” He slid his black American Express over the bar.

  “First on the agenda, gentlemen, remastering your original album. I booked a studio for you to use for the next month. Make the most of it. Your new producer will be Michael Blaya. He’s worked with other large acts in your genre and is the best in the music business right now. He will take your original work and make it something special.”

  “Special?” Ben chuckled. “I thought it already was. I mean you did sign us.”

  “Absolutely it is, but what the industry wants is extraordinary. Mike will polish your existing work, and while you’re re-recording, we’ll discuss your touring schedule.”

  He picked up the fine tequila and raised his glass in the air. “But before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s toast.” The band members grabbed their drinks and followed suit. “To an amazing partnership, lots of money…”

  “And bitches!” Ben yelled.

  “Only the best groupies for your band.” They clinked glasses and swallowed.

  Josh chimed in, “When do we start?”

  “Next week. We’ll pack your things and relocate you here to New York.” He handed Ben a card. “You’ll be staying at this location. The sooner the tracks can be laid on digital recordings, the faster we can push out your first single. From here on, consider yourselves true artists and put your energy into being just that. I will take care of the rest,” he assured them.

  Ben grinned at his comrades. “I guess we officially made it.”

  “First things first. Time to get you acclimated to the lifestyle of stardom.”

  The limo slowed to a stop in front of Azotar, an exclusive nightclub for New York’s elite. Jacob relaxed into the vibe his new band created. Jovial back slaps, hoots, hollers, and give-no-fucks energy validated his decision to sign them. They were wild and what the industry craved. Rock was a dying genre, and his label pushed to keep it in the forefront. AMG was founded on rock, and he intended to keep it alive.

  Icarus Descending had it all: music, talent, and sex appeal. This group would bring the next generation of chicks to their knees. There was no doubt they would prove to be his biggest moneymaker since taking over as CEO, leaving Omega Records in the dust. Shane’s company had been edging forward to take the number one record label spot, but now AMG would remain the best.

  A pink neon sign blazed over the main brick entrance. Lines of people crowded the sidewalk and stretched down the block, all waiting to lounge or dance as burlesque performers taunted the patrons with their bodies and evocative promises over the crowd.

  Ben led the remaining band members to the end of the line. “No, gentleman. This way. We don’t wait. Get used to it.” Jacob slipped them through a side door.

  A large bouncer rose from his stool. His meaty hand greeted Jacob with a handshake. “Welcome back, Mr. Andrews. They’re ready for you upstairs.”

  “Thanks, Ivan.”

  Ivan was a beast and, when provoked, could lift a person by the back of the neck with one hand. Jacob had gained first-hand knowledge when his last musician got out of hand with one of the burlesque girls.

  “Ivan, this is Icarus Descending, AMG’s new rock band. Ben, Josh, John, and Carmen.”

  “Welcome to Azotar,” he grunted, eyeing up Carmen, the band’s bassist.

  “What’s up, man?” Carmen’s lip piercing caught the light from above when he grinned.

  Without amusement, Ivan called, “Miranda, can you show Mr. Andrews and his friends to their area?”

  An alluring petite girl, wearing a short leather skirt, came out from behind a curtain. Her breasts spilled over the top of her corset as her light brown tendrils curled around them.

  “Ivan, are you giving these gentlemen a hard time?” Her small hand squeezed his large bicep like a deactivation device. He sat, crossing his arms. “Much better. Mr. Andrews, so nice to see you again. It’s been too long.”

  She batted her long lashes and blushed. Playing coy was her game, but deep down, Jacob knew the vixen living under the surface. A familiar desire awakened in him. Miranda had a way about her and satisfied him in ways no woman had since Shane. She possessed the right amount of kink to satisfy his needs without question. She was right; it had been too long.

  He kissed her cheeks and rubbed his hands down the powder white skin of her arms. “Jacob, please. You are as striking as ever.”

  “You are too kind, sir. Please follow me this way.” She turned on her heel, waving a delicate hand.

  Miranda sauntered up the stairs in her five-inch, Louboutin black stilettos. The attempt to bait him didn’t go unnoticed. The VIP section contained a couch, chairs, and several bottles of chilled Cristal set on the table’s center. Perched on the furniture were the escorts he’d ordered for the band. One leggy blonde, a brunette, and two redheads.

  “I only see four girls, Andrews,” Ben observed.

  “I will not be partaking in the rest of the festivities this evening. Consider this a gift to you.”

  Ben smirked as his band members made their selections. “Thank you, fine sir.” Miranda handed Jacob a glass of champagne.

  “Thank you, beautiful,” he said. He kissed the top of her hand, igniting a familiar spark between them.

  After he’d abandoned Shane, he found himself at Azotar nearly every night, searching for someone to take away the pain. Miranda had helped him pick up the pieces and forget what a selfish bastard he had become.

  Leaving Shane was no small feat although Jacob convinced himself it was the right thing to do. She’d become distant after the loss of her father, sinking her life into work. While caring for her and hoping she would come out of it, he also withdrew. When given the opportunity to become the youngest CEO of a major record label, he’d left Shane to pursue his lifelong goal. Total selfish son of a bitch.

  “Anytime, sir.” She began to walk away and turned back. “And don’t be a stranger.”

  He clutched her elbow, hauling her toward him. Eyes sultry and inviting. The casual but intense connection they shared surged through him.

  “What are you doing after your shift?” He inhaled her perfume, ripe peach and pure sin.

  “What do you want me to do, Sir?”

  A woman addressing him as Sir, coupled with asking what he wanted, spurred something dark in his gut. Being near her brought back a primal desire to fuck. No love and no feelings.

  His guilt over signing Icarus Descending steeped below the surface. He’d done it to cut Shane out of his life, to achieve closure because he could never have her back. Their relationship was officially over, and Miranda was going to help him to forget it one more time.

  “Stop by my place, like old times.
”

  Her body heated through his fingertips. He sucked an earlobe, and his hand found her ass under the short leather skirt. A blooming flower of compliance to his touch. Perfect.

  The consenting rasp in her wanton voice said everything.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “One hour.”

  3

  The next morning, Shane clutched the phone as she called The Resort. Each ring brought her closer to the unknown. It was time to move forward. More than her demanding work schedule and craving an escape, this would be the only way to let Jacob go for good.

  A small, nasally female voice answered. “Hello, and thank you for calling The Resort. This is Candy. How may I help you?”

  Shane coughed, trying to disguise her laughter. Of course, her name would be Candy. Did David know?

  “Um, ah, yes, I’m calling to discuss a membership.”

  “Absolutely. We will need to secure a background check prior to instating the membership. May I have your email to send along the forms to complete?”

  After providing Candy her details, she was told the packet would arrive shortly. While she waited, she called David.

  “Good morning, doll!” Heavy breathing muffled the receiver as she heard his feet hit the belt of a treadmill.

  “Working up a sweat?” Music drifted in the background.

  “Yeah, Sean’s at work, so I decided to work out my sexual frustration with Enrique Iglesias and Adam Levine.”

  “Lucky you. Next time, invite me over, please.” She laughed, spinning her chair toward the windows. “I had the most interesting phone conversation this morning.”

  “Oh, yeah? With whom?”

  “The girl from The Resort.”

  “And why is that interesting?” She could feel his grin.

  “Her name was…get this…Candy.”

  “Oh, holy hell!” He belly laughed, wheezing as she heard the treadmill stop. “You. Are. Kidding.”

  “Not at all. I suppose your name, Delicious, fits right in after all.” A ping from her email sounded. “The background check forms came through. I have to go. I’m one step closer to the dark side again.”