Dark Nights

by Kitti Bernetti

  Chapter Eight

  ‘I’VE BOOKED US DINNER at the Ritz and then a suite afterwards.’

  It was a natural progression from the Sharlton Club to go the five minutes around the corner to the world’s most famous hotel. Breeze was wide eyed. ‘The Ritz, wow. I’ve walked past here so many times and peered up at the windows from Piccadilly but I’ve never been inside. You must have been pretty sure I’d agree to staying the night to have pre-booked. Am I that shallow that you were so certain of me?’

  He ushered her past the liveried doorman and through the revolving doors.

  ‘You’re not shallow, Breeze, no one could accuse you of that. On the contrary, you’re deep, enigmatic. You play all your cards close to your chest. I wish I could get closer but you won’t let me.’ They walked into mirror-glassed, gold-leaved, rococo splendour where every second step took them under another glittering chandelier.

  ‘Perhaps it’s just that I don’t have that many aces to play.’ She looked at him from under long lashes. ‘I think it’s you who always holds the strongest hand.’

  ‘I suppose you say that because I’m the one who caught you out. I might appear to have all the power, the money, the status, and the captain of industry tag always attached to my name in the papers. But actually, Breeze, you seriously underestimate your power to fascinate. I loved the Sharlton. You’re irreverent and inventive and I’ll always remember rutting like rabbits underneath all those stern disapproving portraits.’

  ‘Do rabbits rut?’ she asked then blushed as the waiter approached, but if he heard he was too discreet even to raise an eyebrow.

  ‘Mr Dark, it’s an honour to have you dining with us tonight.’

  Seb motioned to her to sit down on one of the red velvet chairs and she looked around open-mouthed at the extravagant sculpture of reclining gods, the trompe l’oeil Greek gardens painted on the walls and the swags and tails at the window. The Ritz was an explosion of exquisite bad taste which somehow worked perfectly because, like a huge-bosomed bar maid it didn’t try to hide how over the top it was.

  ‘You seemed to find that cartoon very funny,’ Breeze said as they ordered confit duck ravioli followed by Dover sole and lobster fricassee.

  ‘Oh I did. You see, the thing I value above everything is loyalty, that’s the most difficult commodity for a rich and successful man to find. That cartoon was poking fun at the highest in the land. It really struck a chord because it shows that even the most well respected office holders can lack integrity and loyalty. Those characteristics in the people I do business with, and my employees, is the thing I most look for, but it’s as elusive as gold dust. I think years of discovering how difficult it is to find is one of the things that has made me jaded, made me lose my faith in people, almost.’

  Breeze had been enjoying her starter but suddenly it tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She thought of Richard and Mr Vanhoffer and their vile secret that she knew. The three of them, her included were like vipers trying to sting Sebastian. Did she really want to be part of that? She was trying hard to hate Seb as she had when he’d first exposed her but somehow she couldn’t any longer. He talked animatedly; jokes came quickly to him when he was relaxed like this. She couldn’t take her eyes off features which had once seemed steely and sharp but in reality had a softer side. She liked the strong Roman nose, the glittering eyes with their shards of lively silver and the blonde lights in his hair which had felt so soft under her fingers and which she ached to touch again. She realised she was looking forward to their night together. She wanted him to hold her close, to make love to her. She ate only half her main course before closing her knife and fork and saying, ‘Seb, how hungry are you?’

  He stopped mid-forkful, and his smile made her melt. ‘Why? Are you thinking of perhaps taking desert in our room?’

  ‘Absolutely. A special sort of desert.’ She put down her serviette and allowed him to escort her out of the blousy dining room and into the privacy of their suite. The Royal Suite was sumptuous, split-level, a curious oval shape. As she looked out at the night settling over Green Park, she felt Sebastian caress her from behind. He ran kisses up her neck distracting her from the plane trees spreading their branches over lovers escaping arm in arm from the madness of Hyde Park Corner into the sanctuary of the green oasis. The scent of newly cut grass wafted upwards as Sebastian’s arms enclosed her, pressing her against the gym-toned sleekness of his chest. She turned to him, and felt her body tingle as he undressed her. His eyes delved into her soul as he carefully undid her clothing, peeling it away. She stood naked before him and watched, the round globes of her breasts rising and falling, his slow undressing. When he stepped towards her and cleaved his body to hers it sent ripples of pleasure through her like the first rumblings of an earthquake. When he lay her down and ran his fingers over her body from her toes, up her ankles, over her calves, kissing her skin with hungry passion, she buried her fingers in his hair and luxuriated in its softness. When he mounted her, she wrapped her legs around him with an abandon that said more eloquently than words, ‘I need you.’ As he cupped her breasts in his hands, as she saw his eyes flicker with ecstasy as she grasped the rock hardness between his legs and guided him into her, she realised she had come to a decision. He was going to make love to her, to sleep a full night with her and this time she wanted him. All of him. All her life she had been told to be independent, to be an island but she didn’t want to be the Ice Queen any more. This man was special. Coupling with him, giving herself to him was the ultimate. It might destroy her. He might decide that having won the final prize he would discard her, throw her to the wolves, leave her behind. But sometimes she reasoned as she teased open her petals and guided him inside, you had to take risks. Sometimes it was worth it.

  Sebastian raised himself up to kneel on the bed with her locked over the magnificence of his cock. He brought his arms around her, his muscles sinewy as he lifted her onto him, as she slid down the enormity of him. Her hair fell forward, and he breathed in the scent of it. ‘Come for me, Breeze, come over me, come inside me, give me everything.’ Her whole body was welded on to him, gloriously trapped in his hold, his cock like a ramrod filled her and tantalised her. He grabbed her buttocks and started lifting her up and down so that the sensation of his ridged cock sliding over her aching clit, massaging the little bud to sensitivity was heaven. Breeze threw her head back and he closed his mouth over her nipple, so softly, so carnally she could hear his lips doing their work as he licked and flicked with his tongue. Her clit swelled like a ripe red cherry. Every piston movement of his cock made her wetter, as he drove faster, her heart racing to keep up.

  ‘You’re gorgeous, I need you, I want to fuck you forever,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘I want to drive you wild, hear you cry out for more.’ His voice as smooth as milk chocolate lilted like a chant as she closed her eyes in sheer abandonment, giving herself up to his driving force. So this was what being ravished really meant, it meant having every sinew of your being focussed on one man, being possessed, being … Red hot desire moulded his muscles into relief. He had leant down, without her even seeing it and now, as he eased her forward slightly off his burgeoning cock, she felt a vibration so delicious, so unexpected, so wildly exhilarating it forced goose bumps racing up her skin. The vibrator was small, discreet, he played it just long enough on her ripe clit to practically drive her up through the ceiling. He threatened to melt her under his red-hot gaze. then he switched it to the shaft of his cock. Instantly he hardened and swelled inside side her filling her totally. Then, like a magician pulling a dove out of a hat, he started to bounce her and as he did, he tantalised her with the vibrator, moulding it onto her clit with such exquisite pressure she knew she couldn’t hold herself much longer. Rising, upwards and downwards in a mounting rhythm, her eyes seeing stars, her luscious come juice trickling over his prick, her breasts bouncing up and down in his face, he urged her on. He breathed, his voice reaching her as if they were floating in space, ‘That’s it,
Breeze fuck me, fuck me good. Come over me, let me feel you lose it.’ That did it, that brought her over the hill. His filthy words, his total abandon, his pounding cock relentlessly driving her up and down, the vibrator deliciously tantalising her cunny made her explode, forced her to come in sensational jolting pulses. Breeze let out a scream and a long aching sigh as her orgasm rode him again and again, the sweat beading on her brow, her whole body pulsating like a softly purring machine. The first time, the first time she had ever given herself fully with him inside her and the relief, the blessed relief felt like being reborn.

  Breeze collapsed on the bed, floated downwards, felt as if her whole body were swimming in warm water. It was sublime, it was beautiful, it was the ultimate. She realised in that moment that he hadn’t been looking selfishly to win the prize ... but that he had given her the prize, the ability to totally let go, to abandon yourself to another. In that moment, regarding Seb gazing down at her looking more content than any man she had ever seen, stroking her damp forehead, she knew she was falling inexorably, inexplicably for him. She hadn’t wanted to, she didn’t understand it but she was. That was her last thought before she fell into a slumber so perfect, she gave herself up to the warmth of his arms and the sigh of his lips.

  When she woke it was to see dawn play in peaches and burnished gold across the tips of the trees waving outside in Green Park. The night had seemed so perfect, but the morning after was spiked with reality. Breeze looked at Seb slumbering, narrow hips wrapped in a sheet. Even at rest, the muscles rounded like a range of hills. In his sleep, his hand went to the back of his head and he winced. If things had been normal, if they’d had a proper relationship she’d have woken him, questioned him about that pain – for pain it must be that plagued him in sleep. But things weren’t normal. They weren’t honeymooners, they weren’t a happy ever after; they were two people thrown together by circumstances. Maybe they were simply misfits who had shared something extraordinary but whose time was coming to an end. Next week was his birthday and was bound to be their last time together. Seb was famous for being a loner, he would revert to type; they always did. He looked perfect hero material now but she decided she’d rather leave with that impression of him on her senses than have him wake, see the coldness return to his eyes, realise that she was just one more conquest in a life filled with conquests. That now he’d had the ultimate from her, spent the night with her, she would be expendable. He’d keep her, might use her one more time, after all she was his birthday present to himself and then she’d be discarded. Still, she thought as she looked at his deeply slumbering form and picked up her clothes to sneak away. It had been good. Very, very good. No, not just that. It had been sensational.

  She raced through the park, towards Victoria Station, and remembered that she still hadn’t told him of Richard’s treachery. She’d still retained one bit of power, she still had the ability to save Seb or see him go to the dogs. Her independence told her to keep that bit of ammunition up her sleeve, but time was running out. If she didn’t tell him soon, he could be ruined. She made it home, her head spinning. Her mother’s exhortations to always be independent, her father’s ability to pursue his own ends whilst recklessly ignoring his family dogged her. But how long should she hang on to her mother’s experience and make it hers? Her history was her own to mould. When she got back, she needed to think. A jog around Crystal Palace Park always made her see more clearly. She’d go the long way today. Her body, moreover her soul needed the solace of a good long run.

  She pounded the streets, then the paths and finally the grass breathing in the cleansing air as if it were wine. She’d got herself into such a mess. Being a thief, for that’s what she was, had been a move of desperation, then it had been too easy to carry on. And look where it had got her? Enthralled to a man who would squash her like an insect once he had done with her. Any thoughts that he might have any emotional attachment to her was surely an illusion. Her steps slowed as she approached home. But as she did, she saw Summer and her mother standing at the window looking for her. Something had happened, she was always on edge, had always taken care of them. She bounded up the steps. But when she got in they were beaming.

  ‘You’ve just missed him.’ Her mother had a cooling pot of coffee on the table, cups were arranged around it. Expensive chocolate biscuits which they only brought out on special occasions lay half eaten on a plate.

  ‘Missed who?’ Breeze’s hackles were raised.

  Summer tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Sebastian Dark himself. He’s so much better looking than his photographs in the papers. And that car.’ Summer almost swooned. ‘You must have done something pretty major to be that much in the boss’s good books that he’d go to the trouble of coming here.’

  ‘I showed him around,’ Breeze’s mother said proudly, clearing away the cups. ‘He has hidden depths that man. He’s interested in Victorian and Edwardian architecture, was very knowledgeable, in fact. He was most impressed with your grandfather’s designing of the house. And he loved how you’d restored the old conservatory. He was very admiring of Summer’s orchids, said he’d seen some like them when working in the far east. He congratulated us on such a beautiful house. No, “home”, that was the word he used. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs Monaghan, I envy you that. No amount of money can make that happen.” I told him it was all down to you, that we would have lost your grandfather’s house years ago without your hard work.’

  ‘What on earth was he doing here?’ Her mother was such a sensible woman. Breeze had never seen her looking like that, sort of besotted. Seb must have turned the charm full on.

  ‘He said you must have lost this in the office,’ said Summer dropping the gold heart with the little diamond into her hand. ‘He was passing by so he dropped it in. He noticed you always wear it and might be worried about losing it. That’s so thoughtful for a busy man. I thought you said he was mean and selfish. Just goes to show you never can tell. Oh, and he also left this padded envelope. Something boring to do with work he said.’ Summer breathed in the air, ‘I can still smell his aftershave, just like pine forests.’ The two women were still singing his praises as her mother and Summer, invigorated by their visitor and glowing in his praise went off to water the orchids. Breeze collapsed onto a dining room chair, trailed the little heart and chain in her fingers then opened the envelope. Inside was a long box and inside that laying on a blue velvet bed, the prettiest necklace she had ever seen. A string of sublime fire opals, glowing and changing in the sunshine. She had never seen opals like that before, their lights danced on the skin of her hand. She read the card inside. She was intrigued at the large, swirly, extravagant handwriting. Surely, Seb’s father had been wrong when he said his son wasn’t artistic, that handwriting and his eye for colour in choosing the beautiful opals belied that. More like Seb had never been given the chance to express that side of himself. ‘Breeze, I wanted to say thank you. I bought these at the jewellers at the Ritz. They’re unique, just like you. x’

  Breeze held their coolness which reminded her of the coolness of his fingers on her skin. It was gorgeous. She couldn’t accept it of course. For what did it represent? How he had callously bought her sexual favours. Still, she tried the opals around her neck. They suited her perfectly. But would suit her even better if she coloured her hair back to her original colour, rich chestnut. It would feel good to be her real self again, for in a way he was the one person in the world from whom she no longer had anything to hide. He had seen her at her worst, had caught her stealing. And he had seen her at her most vulnerable, when she had laid herself before him and surrendered totally to his masculinity, trembling at his touch. If only their weird and artificial relationship didn’t prevent him from seeing her at her best. For she did have a best side, loyal, nurturing. Even the sex which had been fabulous, mind-blowing wasn’t entirely her. It had been a power game never a love match. The word jolted her. Love. Saturday, his 30th birthday must be their last coupling. Love wasn’t so
mething she could consider in the same moment she thought about Seb, for if she ever fell in love with a man like him, and he rejected her, it would destroy her.

  But one thing she was finally sure of as she made her way upstairs to get washed and dressed was that she could not hate him any more. And that was why as soon as she was ready she was going to go right out, and tell him about the vile, underhand plot his closest aide was hatching to destroy him.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘MR DARK CAN’T BE disturbed. He’s working on something very important right now.’ His secretary guarded him with a loyalty that was steadfast. That’s the way people were around Seb Dark. He inspired it in them.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Breeze marched past the secretary and barged in. It was now or never.

  Seb looked astounded to see her; she had kept her distance from him in the office so well of late. ‘It’s OK, Mrs Hammond,’ he waved the concerned woman away. ‘I’m happy to see Miss Monaghan any time.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Breeze sat, only the flimsy barrier of the desk stood between them. She yearned to reach out and touch him, like you would a magnificent panther. She thought she saw a flicker of the same response in him. But this was business, not pleasure. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. I ... I held back. I’m sorry, because it makes me look as bad as them, when I’m not, really I’m not.’

  ‘You’re talking in riddles, Breeze.’ His sensual mouth firmed. She felt her legs weaken, her fingers fluttered to her throat as if she wanted to still the pulse which now raced every time he was near.