The Dani Collins Erotic Romance Collection: Mastering Her RolePlaying the Master

by Dani Collins

  Heart pounding, she scanned for the pup. Where would he go from here? Like her, he was trapped in this back garden unless he wanted to take his chances in the river. Trying to ignore the still snarling dogs, she moved to the garden bed and crouched, trying to spy the poodle in the warren of low-swept branches and bobbing tulip heads.

  One of the doors onto the veranda opened. Porter Navarro’s long legs descended the wide stone stairs next to her.

  She stood, not looking at him. No longer looking for the puppy either.

  “Are they scaring you? They shouldn’t be barking at guests.” Walking around her, he spoke sharply and made a hand gesture.

  The dogs circled once, offered a final yelp, but a stern word sent them away.

  Paralyzed by his dynamic presence, Ann waited for him to go back into the house. Porter hadn’t acted differently last night from before and after the dressing room incident, only finding her once to say, “For what it’s worth, my mother is responsible for this circus. Not only does she make everything about her, she rightly suspects it’s her only chance to play mother of the groom.”

  Ann hadn’t known what to say. His mother was a beautiful woman who dressed provocatively, drank excessively and flirted without constraint. Erico Navarro, Ann had observed from a quiet vantage of a recessed window, had taken a blonde into one of the guest rooms and stayed there for an hour. Another knee-trembler, she suspected.

  Ann still didn’t know what to say to Porter and silently willed him to go inside so she could look for the puppy.

  “It’s raining,” he told her.

  Yes I know that, she wanted to counter, but didn’t have Eloisa’s audacity. She felt his gaze on her like another muffling layer over her hijab and abaya. Like last night, a sharp longing rose in her to show him she wasn’t really this plain. Beneath the dull olive powder that flaked on her cheeks and made her look unhealthy was a lovely English complexion. The narrow flatness of her lips was a habit she’d developed to keep her mouth pressed closed around Cain, since she wasn’t allowed to speak unless he asked her a direct question.

  Would Porter even care if he saw her as she really was? She couldn’t compete with those leggy supermodels he seemed to prefer. He’d basically said so.

  A branch trembled and a black nose poked out from beneath it. Pleading eyes stared up at them for a few seconds. The puppy whined once and worked himself out of his hiding spot, belly on the ground, head low.

  “Is that what stirred them up,” Porter said with mild disgust.

  Ann’s throat closed over an automatic protest. It wouldn’t be worth arguing with Cain if he wanted to kill the dog then slap her for feeling empathy toward it, but she didn’t know what to expect from Porter.

  He crouched and held out a hand, beckoning the dog with a light snap of his fingers.

  The poodle crawled forward, badly shorn, filthy and trembling with cold.

  Porter picked him up and checked each of his limbs, his handling sure and gentle, but thorough.

  “You’ll have to keep him in your room. Mother will have him thrown in the river if she sees him.” He handed her the dog.

  His flat statement startled her into glancing up through the rusty-water hue of her glasses. He broke the eye contact as soon as her gaze met his, looking with pity at the dog, but she’d glimpsed into his soul and realized that even though it appeared black and empty, it was merely hidden in a very deep cave.

  His mother was not a kind person, something Ann had already guessed, but she hadn’t considered what that would mean for a boy growing up. Now she sensed something not unlike her own adolescence.

  Having pain in common was not the sort of connection Raina had meant when she’d assured Ann that she would one day find a man who was her perfect match, but emotional agony was a surprisingly strong and quick binding agent. Recognizing a like soul made her heart burst into a frightened beat like a panicked bird’s wings when it was unexpectedly snared. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. It was a trap, she was sure.

  Nevertheless, cradling the wiggling, licking animal, she recognized that her first stirrings of physical attraction had taken a giant step into something more elemental and personal.

  Nothing so dramatic happened on his side, though.

  “Bathe him. Warm him up,” he said, and walked away.

  Watching his economic movements, weakened by yearning and relief, she realized she hadn’t managed to conjure one word from her dry mouth.

  * * *

  A tiny tongue licked her bare toes.

  With a grin, she crouched to pet Fonzo with three fingers. He was still shivering, but now it was with excitement. Clean, warm, fed, and apparently paper-trained, he was her real perfect match.

  Someday you will find your own Fonzo, Raina had often said to Ann when she had despaired of having a life beyond Cain’s control. Raina had been referring to her husband and the love of her life. Fonzo and Raina’s deep love and seemingly perfect marriage had made Ann sick with envy. She wanted what they had, but she was used to making do when it came to fitting her dreams into reality. If she couldn’t have a protective, loving man devote himself to her, she’d call the dog Fonzo and regard him as her knight in shining armor. He’d already made her lighter of heart and happier than she’d felt in a long time.

  Fonzo put quite a crimp in her plans of escaping, though. She couldn’t swim with him, not that that was her first choice of routes. How else, though?

  She refused to succumb to doubts that escape was possible. Raina and Fonzo had never given up despite being indentured to Cain. They’d seized their chance when they’d all landed in Rome. Fonzo had been tasked with handing all the passports to the customs agent, but he’d kept his own and Raina’s. Seconds later, they’d disappeared. No doubt they were back in Raina’s native Philippines by now.

  Ann didn’t blame them, even though Cain had accused her of helping them and had taken out his anger on her. The bruises were still fresh across her shoulders, but she took inspiration from their courage. If they could do it, so could she.

  But where would she go?

  That part blanked her mind and she didn’t have much time to figure it out. Last night’s “engagement party” was six days ahead of the wedding. She had a very narrow window to escape.

  If only she had a reason to leave the compound. In Al-Zahra she’d taken semi-frequent trips to the women’s fitness center or mall. Raina and Fonzo had had the proper papers to take her that far, and Cain had known she couldn’t leave the country without his approval so he’d allowed it. Here, he kept asking for things to be delivered. There was a gym on the third floor if she wanted exercise. Stylists were being called in to arrange hair and wardrobes for the ceremony.

  Standing on her balcony, Ann wrung the cold iron rail with restless fingers, peering to the paving stones below, wishing she could leap into the midday rain and a new future, but a jump from here would only result in two broken legs.

  If she somehow did make it to the police, would they help her? Raina had promised her they would. Everything she’d read suggested non-Muslim countries allowed women to have more power over their own lives, but dare she believe it?

  Oh, this silly poodle had more courage than she did and he was smaller than an alley cat.

  He took off into the bedroom with an excited clip of his nails on the hardwood, alerted by the sound of someone entering the room.

  Ann hurried to catch him and scoop him up, fumbling one-handed to set her glasses on her face.

  “Mademoiselle—?” the maid broke off with a surprised look at the dog.

  “Porter said I could have him,” she asserted quickly, then held her breath.

  “But of course,” the girl accepted easily, making Ann’s heart pound like she’d had a close shave. “Perhaps leave him here, however. You are asked to come down.”

  Ann waited until the girl had left to set Fonzo on his chair, then checked her hijab and followed. Her knees weakened as she descended the stairs,
wondering who had asked for her. Cain? Porter? She didn’t know which would be worse.

  Señora Navarro had summoned her to the quaint parlor overlooking the river. She and another woman sat in elegant comfort on matching Louis Quinze settees. They both wore silk dresses, both sipped from exquisite crystal flutes, and each clutched the dragon-shaped tip of a hookah hose. The cloying scent of hashish hung in the air. Ann recognized it as the same smell that had drifted from the neighbors in Al-Zahra.

  The blonde woman’s gaze was surprisingly keen as she appraised Ann from head to fingertips, seeming quite alert despite her relaxed posture. That underlying sharpness sent a stab of unease into Ann’s belly.

  “Bon matin, ma petite,” the stranger said.

  “Don’t bother with French. She barely has English, as far as I can tell,” Porter’s mother said in a bored drawl. Her heavily darkened lashes sat low over the dull gray of her eyes. “But you can see what I mean about Porter continuing his assault of shame on us. Had I realized what a laughingstock she’d make us, I wouldn’t have planned last night’s soiree, but once she was here, the damage was done.”

  I’m still here, Ann wanted to point out.

  “Take off the glasses,” the stranger said in English, and when Ann complied, she said in French, “She needs what the Americans call a makeover. Simply putting her in a dress and cutting her hair won’t do. Does she have much of a figure? I have a great deal of work ahead of me,” she sighed.

  “I’ve told Porter to call it off. Erico insists it happen. We’re not speaking.” She drew heavily on the pipe, making it bubble.

  “Are you ever, chèrie?” the blonde asked with a droll lift of a brow.

  Ann took a step backward, hoping she was dismissed, but the stranger made a noise of refusal. “Un moment. We must start or you won’t be ready. A week, chèrie,” she blustered lightly at Porter’s mother. “I can’t believe you have done this to me.” Picking up her mobile phone, she tapped then stared straight into Ann’s eyes as she said in a honeyed voice, “Eloisa, s’il vous plaît.”

  Ann wanted to close her eyes as her muscles wilted, but she could only wait as if unaffected. Her neck hurt where her shoulder muscles bunched with tension. She had sensed something and now she knew what the niggling feeling sitting in her stomach was: the instincts of the hunted scenting a predator.

  “Ma bichette, you must permit me a favor. I cannot do this alone. We have a young woman in need of your magic touch. Can you fit her in? No, we must start today. Parfait. I will bring her—”

  “Cain said she wanders if she’s allowed to leave the house,” Porter’s mother interrupted, but it was halfhearted.

  “They are very trustworthy,” the stranger assured. “Eloisa? We must be cognizant that she is very precious and guarded at all times, tu comprends? Merci, chèrie. I’ll bring her within the hour.” She ended her call and offered a cold, merciless smile.

  * * *

  Ann tried not to run as she hurried back to her room and the laptop. The last person to use it, Tomas, hadn’t bothered with little things like passwords so she was online in seconds, searching maps of Paris. Should she call the police?

  Before she could get very far, out of nowhere, a window appeared on the screen. Porter Navarro’s name sat in block letters across the top.

  Who is this?

  Ann picked up her hands as if the keys had caught fire. She wasn’t a computer genius, had merely used Cain’s desktop in Al-Zahra when he was out. He had never been security-conscious enough to suspect her or even erase his history the way she’d learned to do. She didn’t know how to cover the fact she was online now, though.

  You’ve broken into a private network and I’m tracing your IP.

  It’s Ann, she replied quickly, then waited.

  I thought my brother was back from the dead.

  I’m sorry, she responded, smiling a little, but genuinely remorseful. That must have been a shock for him.

  How did you get his profile?

  Someone gave me his laptop, she prevaricated, and waited. And waited. The lack of response seemed bad. She wondered if he was coming to her room to take it back. She looked to the door and when she looked back, a new message had appeared.

  Use these credentials. He included instructions for creating a profile under her own name. Set it up now. Confirm it works.

  A few minutes later she had logged in as herself and looked for the window to message him. He was faster.

  ICU.

  A funny shiver chased over her. I’m here. Thank you.

  NP. How’s the dog?

  Good. She lifted her fingers, considering whether to be so forward, but talking through the computer made her brave enough. Can I keep him—after we’re married, she wanted to write, but she didn’t want to marry him. She hit Return.

  If you like.

  She sat back, stunned by his willingness to accept the stray.

  Into her haze of warm feelings toward him, the maid knocked and entered. Señora Navarro’s friend, Madame Cosette, was leaving now. Ann should come down, rapidement.

  Shaken, she leapt to her feet and flitted into several directions, wanting to collect her money from its hiding place, but the maid stood watching. She couldn’t take Fonzo either. Her movements felt jerky even though she worked hard to betray nothing.

  As she followed the maid down the first flight of stairs, she glanced down the hall toward the one ally she might have. Porter had his back to her as he looked out the window, mobile phone to his ear.

  Ann’s heart sank as Madame Cosette looked up at her from the bottom floor. There was no way to avoid Eloisa, not without the threat of exposure.

  “You do as you’re told,” Madame Cosette said once they were seated in the back of a town car. The lilt of cruel amusement in her tone made Ann’s heart harden, until the woman added, “Porter will like that.”

  The words rang in her ears, both grating and reassuring, distracting her from finding an opportunity to leap to freedom at a corner. The streets were a maze in the dimming light. Signposts and buildings and pedestrians whisked by so fast she wasn’t able to identify anything or memorize landmarks. She had heard the thunk as the driver had locked the doors, and sitting next to Madame Cosette, she couldn’t reach for the handle until she was ready to make her move. She didn’t know how much time she would have before the car would take off again, and she didn’t want to die trying to live.

  Anxious as she was, she did her best to seem unperturbed, keeping her hands folded one atop the other, expression neutral and face forward while her eyes darted behind her yellow-tinted glasses, desperately seeking the opportunity she needed.

  Stillness was something she was good at. She’d once stood for an hour on hot sand beneath a window, a scorpion sitting on her bare foot, the hem of her abaya flicking the insect into pulling its tail into readiness again and again. Partly she’d endured it because she’d been determined to hear everything her stepfather had been telling authorities about her mother’s fatal fall down the stairs. Another part of her had willed the scorpion to sting her and send her into the afterworld to be with her mother.

  The car came to an unexpected stop in a narrow alley between very high brick walls. Ann’s belly tightened against renewed, turbulent sensations. She pushed away fear and naive wishes for things to be different. Those sorts of thoughts had never helped.

  Her door was opened by a giant of a man who appeared out of nowhere, one she didn’t dare argue with as he instructed her to step from the car directly into the back entrance of a villa. Belly twitching in fear, she didn’t look back at Madame Cosette, already wondering if she’d have better luck with this other scorpion.

  Her mother had had excellent taste, and the mansion in Al-Zahra had been faultlessly beautiful, if stiff and formal. The wingback armchairs and sofas, upholstered in silk, had worn reserved stripes of red and gold. The wooden end tables had ended their carved legs in knobby paws. Emptiness took up its own space in the marble-columned ro
oms of the only home she remembered, filled only with area rugs in geometric patterns. No family photos had warmed the place. Not even houseplants. Water was too precious. After her mother’s death, the house had become a shrine of sorts, the crimson drapes and decorative alcoves only used for hiding a scared and lonely young woman.

  As for Porter’s home, the mansion was beautiful, but very old, with scarred wooden floors, small rooms and narrow doorways.

  By contrast, the home she entered now was modern, open and exquisitely sensual. A wall of windows looked onto an inner courtyard garden while impressionist paintings decorated the opposite walls, elevating the giant colored dots in the carpet to a statement. French jazz played through an invisible sound system and a scent of vanilla and almonds hung subtly on the air.

  The rear of the parlor was a narrow wall containing a fireplace that opened on both sides. Ann glimpsed a highboy dining table and chairs in the next room. A loft overlooked this one. Stairs descended from it in a spiral that landed in the corner.

  Eloisa wore a sheer robe over a lace nightgown. She didn’t rise from sitting at the end of a curved white sofa, legs tucked alongside her hip. A laptop balanced on the arm casting a colorless light into her clean features as she lifted her gaze.

  Distantly Ann was aware of her heart thumping steadily with fear. Her skin was as clammy as the moment she’d been discovered by Eloisa in the closet, but she betrayed none of it, not even glancing back when she heard a muted buzz in the door behind her that suggested she’d been locked in. The only escape appeared to be the wall of windows with a subtly cut door, but the birdcage chair hanging by the window would make a beautiful hiding place if turned into the wall and the coffee table had a skirting just deep enough—

  “Remove your shoes,” Eloisa said in English.

  They were only slippers, but Ann set them near the door and straightened, finally looking at this woman who had gone to enormous trouble to bring her here without revealing it to anyone. Why?