I tell him about the party and my descriptions of the orgy make him groan even more, but when I tell him, without too much detail, about my liaisons with Dominic and the revelation that Andrei and Anna are sleeping together, he looks a little happier.
‘That’s something, I suppose.’ He frowns. ‘But you remember nothing between meeting Dominic in that passageway and waking up the next morning?’
I shake my head. ‘It’s a complete blank. Anna says Andrei carried me up out of the catacombs, unconscious.’
‘Run me through what you had to drink again...’
When I do, he looks even more puzzled. ‘That might make you drunk. It might even make you ill or extremely sleepy. But it won’t make you comatose – at least, I don’t think so. What was that last drink you had?’
‘I don’t know. Andrei ordered it. The house special. It was a cocktail, pale pink and fruity and very sweet.’
‘Oh, dear.’ James looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. In fact, he’s gone a little pale. ‘And you felt strange immediately afterwards?’
I think back and remember sipping the pink liquid and how I soon began to feel different. I remember Andrei and me standing together, then Anna, her arm around me, her head thrown back in laughter, and her muddy shoes; and then, a while later, everything changing. I’d thought it was the lights and the music that were making me feel so spacy and strange, and causing time to speed up, slow down and sometimes vanish altogether. That was when Andrei simply disappeared and when I began to wander vaguely, unable to find my way properly. ‘Yes,’ I say slowly. ‘Well, quite soon afterwards.’
James puts his glasses on and thinks hard for a moment, staring down at his coffee. Then he looks up at me, staring me straight in the eye, and says, ‘Beth, I think your drink was spiked.’
I stare back, speechless.
‘Drugged. God knows what with. Speed? Something that like, I expect.’
I try to process this. ‘You think Andrei drugged me?’ I ask, appalled.
‘I wouldn’t leap to that conclusion. It was the house special, you said. I have a feeling that most party-goers would know that the house special contains a hallucinogenic, or they would be given the nod by the barman if they appeared not to.’
‘So... Andrei must have known that he was giving me a spiked drink?’ A cold horror is draining through me, feeling as though it is taking all my blood with it.
‘Let’s be charitable and say he didn’t but he looked such a sophisticate that the barman assumed he must know the routine. But it’s a possibility that he did.’
‘Why would he do such a thing?’ I feel awful, knowing that I took drugs like that without realising. I’ve never touched them and never wanted to. There was a small gang at school who boasted about taking drugs, and some spaced-out boys who smoked a lot of weed, just as there was a racy, party-loving crowd at uni who knew how to get cocaine, ecstasy and all the rest, and didn’t consider it a night out unless they’d snorted, smoked or swallowed something contraband. But I never wanted to. I liked the high that came from drinking too many beers and dancing the night away, but not that often and never to excess. Hangovers were too miserable as far as I was concerned. And I never considered drugs anything other than a dead end: if they made you happier than you could be without them, why would you ever want to give them up? Better never to start.
‘Perhaps he thought you’d be more in the party mood if you had something to liven you up,’ James says. He gazes at me and neither of us say what is going through our heads – that he thought I’d surrender to him more easily if I were high.
‘But it didn’t happen,’ I say. ‘I didn’t see him again that night – not as far as I remember anyway.’
‘Yes. Thank goodness for that.’ There’s another pause and then James says, ‘It definitely was Dominic in the cave with you, wasn’t it?’
I have a vivid flashback of the dark outline of him against the dim light of the passageway. I remember his touch, and what he said to me. His voice – well, it was a whisper, hard to identify, but what he said all made sense. It was Dominic. ‘Yes,’ I say firmly. ‘It definitely was.’
‘Good.’ James’s relief is obvious. ‘But it would appear that Andrei is not quite the harmless little lamb you believed. Let’s just be glad that nothing worse happened than a bit of confusion and a headache in the morning. And thank goodness Dominic was there too, or I dread to think... So now will you listen to me and keep your distance?’
I nod. I feel a deep cold anger towards Andrei. And to think that last night I almost felt sorry for him. He’d convinced me to stay at the party with his sob story of how he never gets the chance to relax, just so he could slip me a spiked drink and try his luck. Thank goodness it hadn’t worked. ‘Yes. You’re completely right and I’ve been all wrong about him. But I’m clued up now and you know what they say – knowledge is power. I’ll be on my guard from now on.’
‘I think you should walk away from this job right now,’ declares James fervently. ‘Just get out of there, as soon as you can.’
‘No,’ I say slowly, ‘I can’t do that. From what Dominic’s said, that’s the wrong way to handle Dubrovski. You have to be cunning or he’ll decide to crush you. I’m not afraid for myself but I would hate for Mark or Dominic to suffer because he suddenly takes against me. I’ll be all right – it’s not for much longer and then I’ll be done with this private commission, and his deal will be over and he’ll probably leave London and forget about me. And Dominic won’t be working for him any more either so we’ll both be free and able to be honest about our relationship.’
‘Just promise me you’ll be careful,’ James says.
‘Of course I will,’ I say with a bright smile, though inside I’m feeling less confident than I look. This is going to be like trying to get out of the lion’s den without him noticing you’re even there. Tricky.
I have to wait to charge up my phone until I get home that afternoon, but when I do, there’s a backlog of messages and texts from Dominic, asking where I am and what I’m doing. I didn’t receive them and perhaps our phones wouldn’t have worked underground even if I had. The messages seem to end around 2 a.m., which must have been when he came looking for me and found me, but I don’t trust the time stamps on messages anyway, not when they haven’t been received in real time.
There is a message from Dominic sent today from his work account. It says simply:
Hello Beth
It was very nice to see you last night, I hope you enjoyed the party and you’re feeling better today. It’s great to have you on the Dubrovski team!
See you soon,
Dominic.
I read it a few times, wondering if there is some kind of message hidden within the blandness, but I can’t see one. I’m just beginning to feel frustrated when another message pops up, this one sent from an email account I don’t recognise.
Hi gorgeous
Now I’m back here, I’ve been able to get on to a laptop that isn’t monitored by work. God, I can’t wait until we’re both free of Dubrovski, I feel like we’re being watched all the time. It was marvellous to see you at the party last night even if circumstances were less than ideal. We could have had a much more enjoyable time if it’d been just the two of us... I can’t wait to see you again. How about tonight? In the boudoir?
Love
Dx
I smile as I read it. At last, this is what I’ve been longing for. Communication – real and loving, like any girl might expect from her boyfriend. My fears and jealousies melt away. I quickly type back a reply.
Thank you for your lovely message, sweetie, and I can’t think of anything better than us being in the boudoir again. But the truth is, I’m totally wiped out from last night and I need an early night if I’m going to be any use at all tomorrow. I have to get back to work, all the sooner to get this job done. Can I see you tomorrow night instead? The boudoir sounds amazing. Yes please.
B x x x
The a
nswer comes back almost at once.
Understood. I’m tired myself after that late night. Are you okay, though? I was worried about you last night. When I left you with Andrei, you seemed all right but you were obviously out cold later on. Tell me all about it when I see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams and sleep well tonight, gorgeous. Let’s arrange our rendezvous in the morning.
Dx
I stare at it for a while, a nasty feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach, reading it over and over again. I was fine when he left me with Andrei. When is he talking about? Because I don’t remember him leaving me with Andrei after our passionate encounter in the cave. By then, I was oblivious to everything, no doubt lost in my drug-induced haze. So does he mean when Andrei and I left him dancing with Anna? A horrible nausea engulfs me and my hands clench around my phone. Because that would mean he thinks he didn’t see me again until after the party.
I stand up, my heart pounding, feeling sicker than ever. My thoughts are racing wildly.
That would mean that it wasn’t him in the tunnel. Oh God. If it wasn’t Dominic, then it must have been...
I turn around and catch a glimpse of myself in our sitting-room mirror. I look grey and terrified. The obvious, the only conclusion, is that if the man in the tunnel wasn’t Dominic, he must have been Andrei. He greeted me by name. Only Dominic or Andrei would do that. No. I won’t believe it. I can’t! I’ve got things confused, that’s all. I’ll sort it out with Dominic when I see him.
But then the nature of my own, personal trap becomes clear. If I ask him whether he made wild love to me in the cave and he says no, he’ll know that someone else did. The very thought makes my head spin with horror. Even if he believes that I honestly thought it was him, will it change everything between us?
I was so jealous when I thought even for a moment he was attracted to Anna. What would he think if he knew I’d had sex with someone else?
I shudder. What about me? Have I really been seduced without knowing who it was? I remember the way I welcomed every touch and kiss and caress, how much I yearned for that hard, satisfying fucking. He asked did I want it, was I sure... and I said yes. He said ‘No more games’ and I thought it was Dominic referring to our meeting in the dungeon earlier. I opened myself willingly. I begged for it.
But did he know that I thought it was Dominic? Did I call him by name?
I can’t remember if I spoke Dominic’s name out loud or not. The thought makes me feel doubly ill. Because if it were Andrei with me in the tunnel last night and I did say it, he can be under no illusion now about how I feel about Dominic.
I sink down to the floor moaning. Please, let it not be true. Please. Did I have sex with Andrei? And did I really love it as much as I remember?
Chapter Eleven
Dominic is furious with me. His eyes are black with rage, his face pale.
‘You did what?’ he says in an ominous voice that quivers with suppressed rage.
I am lying on my front on the bed in the boudoir, wearing only a leather harness that criss-crosses over my breasts and is collared at my neck, and cinched in hard and tight round my waist, leaving my upper back and buttocks bare. My hands are bound to the bed, pulled up over my head and cuffed to the railing that runs along the head. My legs are spread-eagled and each ankle is tethered to an opposite bedpost, leaving me entirely exposed. I want to curl up into a ball, but it’s impossible.
‘You fucked him?’ His voice gets louder until he’s almost shouting. ‘You fucked Dubrovski? When you know how I feel about you – and about him? How could you, Beth?’ His voice changes again, quiet but sharp as a knife. ‘Did you enjoy it? His cock shoving away inside you? I bet you did.’
I’m sobbing. ‘No, please believe me... I thought it was you, I thought you were in the cave with me! Not him. I had no idea, I promise.’
‘Likely fucking story, Beth. Give me some credit.’
‘I was drugged, tripping, and it was pitch black!’
‘You fucked him. And you loved it.’ His voice is icy.
‘No, no...’ I can’t believe this is happening; I can’t make him believe me. My voice deserts me as sobs grip my chest and throat. My power to explain is gone.
I hear Dominic moving about the room, then he is standing behind me.
‘You betrayed me, Beth,’ he says in a low voice. ‘After everything we’ve been through, and everything I’ve done for you. You cheated on me. Now you can do something for me.’
‘What?’ I managed to gasp between sobs. ‘I’ll do anything for you, you know that.’
‘Really? Then you’d better show me by taking what’s coming to you.’
I’m waiting for him to tell me what I can do to convince him when the blow comes. The cat o’ nine tails, that stinging creature with its hundreds of sharp little teeth, comes down hard on my back. I’m braced for pain, the crackling of my skin underneath its bite. I know that the cat is usually brought out when the skin is already warmed by softer, gentler instruments – Dominic is obviously determined to make me suffer the most extreme of punishments. But I don’t feel the bitter pain I’m expecting. Instead the whip’s touch is more like a hot caress, sending out tiny cracks of lightning over my back. I gasp.
It comes down again and I can hear from the thwack that it’s coming down harder and faster. Dominic’s putting his strength into it. But again, rather than cutting me with agony, the blow is deliciously invigorating to my senses. I feel myself begin to come alive underneath it, the smarting whack making my sex hot with need.
‘I can see you,’ Dominic says. ‘I can see you getting wet with your punishment. Are you thinking about Dubrovski?’
‘No,’ I whimper, but not loudly enough for Dominic to hear and he’s preparing another blow for me anyway. They begin to pelt down on me, falling on me like burning rain, making me melt and burn in my groin and feel a desperate need for him to take me to the edge of this pleasurable pain.
‘This is your punishment,’ he says. ‘Are you sorry?’
‘I’m sorry, yes, I’m sorry...’ I manage to say as the cat flicks maddeningly all over my fevered back, sometimes over the tops of my thighs and the soft globes of my buttocks.
‘Sorry what?’
‘Sorry, sir. I’m sorry!’
‘Beg for forgiveness and perhaps I won’t cut you to shreds.’
The whip cuts me again, a couple of its strands coming down over my tender exposed sex, licking inside like sharp leather tongues. I scream out. Are there any limits here? What did we agree? I can’t remember.
‘Beg me,’ he hisses.
‘I beg you for forgiveness, sir.’
‘Aren’t you enjoying your thrashing, my little slave?’
‘No, sir, no... I mean, yes... oh God.’ I cry out again as the cat takes a sudden stinging journey over my buttocks. My sex throbs with need.
The blows suddenly stop and I moan. I’m not there yet but I’m in a maddened place where my body is yearning for it so much, I can hardly stand it. I feel a pressure on the bed. He’s behind me, kneeling between my spread thighs. He’s gripping me by the hips, lifting up my backside and then he’s plunging his hot hard cock into my slippery depths, not pausing to savour me but thrusting on with fierce intensity, fucking with no thought for me but for his own pleasure and it’s unbearably exciting. I want to be his vessel, to let him take his pleasure. My back is alive with the sizzling after-effects of the whipping, my bottom tender but thrilling to the thwack of his groin and balls against it. He’s fucking me so hard, concentrating only on driving his shaft in and out.
He leans down over my back. ‘Do you like this?’ he whispers.
I’m shuddering and stiffening. My body is working independently of my mind, its quivering and ready to release my climax on to the hot cock that’s slamming in and out of me.
The voice in my ear says, ‘Come on, come for me, Beth, I know you love it, just like you loved it in the cave,’ and as I gasp and shriek with the intensity of my orgasm and as I whirl
into the intoxicating sensations, I realise that it is not Dominic who is fucking me, but Andrei Dubrovski.
I wake up hot and confused. I’m in my bed at home, and not in the boudoir at all. But it was so horribly real, so intensely physical... I feel drained and yet agitated and unfulfilled at the same time.
Did I come in my sleep? And who did I imagine was fucking me? I feel ashamed at the thought that I might have been unconsciously fantasising about Andrei. You love Dominic, I tell myself harshly. And I know that I definitely, most certainly, do not want to have sex with Andrei.
Dreams are tricks, not revelations. They don’t tell a straightforward story.
I lie back on my pillows, pulling my duvet up around me, remembering the whip in my dream. Ever since I felt the marks on Dominic’s bare back, I’ve been dreaming of whips in one form or another, but never like this. Never with this kind of intensity. Or pleasure.
I shiver as I recall it. But whips don’t simply sting deliciously, I know that. They hurt and cut, and make tender skin bleed, weal and scar. I’ve felt the power of an extreme flogging and I hated it. So why, in my dreams, do I love it so much?
Perhaps my imagination is working overtime because I’m seeing Dominic tonight, and in the boudoir, where he first initiated me into the more adventurous ways of making love.
And perhaps I’m also worried about what I’ll find out. I’m relieved that Dominic, as yet, has no idea of my fears about what happened in the cave. I feel sure, in my heart, that it was Dominic who made love to me. But perhaps that’s just wishful thinking.
I arrive at work nervously.
Laura noticed the change in me over breakfast when I was reluctant to talk about everything that had happened since she’d last seen me.
‘You mean Dominic’s back?’ she demanded, stirring milk into her muesli, a towel wrapped around her damp hair. ‘And your pet billionaire took you to a masked ball and a night in a plush hotel? No wonder you’re depressed.’
Secrets After Dark Page 14
