by Talia Hunter
The headlines were lurid. Crime Queen Corrupts Decorated Police Officer. Detective And Lover: Guilty! And one that made her snort with laughter: Murdering Mistress And Top Cop Go Down Together.
“I’ll play some footage of Cora for you.” Max put a laptop in front of her and fired it up. It was an interview in prison. Cora sat ramrod straight, her dark hair slicked into a low bun and her chin lifted. Even in ugly prison overalls she looked haughty and totally in control, as though she could get up and walk out any time she liked.
From off camera, an interviewer asked whether she was sorry for what she’d done.
Cora’s expression was contemptuous. “Regret is an emotion only fools indulge in,” she said coldly. Her English was slightly accented. “I have lived and loved with more passion than most people can dream of. I savored every moment while I took what I wanted from the man I desired. Why should I be sorry?”
“What about all the people hurt by the drugs you imported?” asked the interviewer.
“Drug addicts choose to kill themselves. Do you blame a man who makes knives when somebody cuts their finger?”
“And the people you had murdered?”
“Only those who raised their fists against me.”
“So that was acceptable? Killing people who threatened you?”
She tilted her head to one side and contemplated him. “I have a question for you to answer.” Though her tone didn’t change, it was still a command from someone who sounded used to being obeyed. “If you find a poisonous spider in your bed, do you crush it before it can bite you?”
“Were the people you killed like spiders?”
She gave a slight smile, but didn’t reply. The question was obviously so inane, it wasn’t worth answering.
When the film ended, Ally realized Max was gazing at her.
“I never realized how much you look like her. You have similar eyes.”
Ally snorted. “She’s beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Yeah, right. The gorgeous Max Oberon was calling her beautiful? If she hadn’t just watched a strong willed woman make no excuses for anything she’d done, Ally would have flushed or looked away. Usually she brushed off compliments, assuming the person was trying to be nice rather than believing they could mean it. But she was being paid to be Cora, and it was plain the woman in the recording would soak up any admiration without question. “Thank you,” she said, managing to hold his gaze. Then she changed the subject. “Do you have any footage of Thomas?”
Max brought up another window on the laptop. “He’s collecting an award for bravery.”
Thomas was on stage wearing full police uniform, being filmed by someone in the audience. An older man with thinning hair presented him with a medal, pinning it to the front of his shirt. The two men saluted each other and the audience clapped. Then Thomas went to the podium to make a speech. The sound wasn’t good, so Ally couldn’t make out much of what he was saying. He stood straight and proud though, and spoke confidently. Not like the man Max had played at being yesterday, with a shy, subservient look.
She raised her eyebrows at Max and he grinned. “I know what you’re thinking, but check this out.” He brought up another clip. “This is footage filmed with a secret camera. It was used in Thomas’s trial. One of the other detectives wondered why all the evidence they were gathering against Cora had mysteriously dried up. He suspected that Thomas was doctoring the cameras they’d planted, so he made his own recording.”
He pushed Play.
Cora sat at a formally-set table, with a placemat and cutlery for one. She wore a strapless top made of ornate black lace that left her shoulders and arms bare. The high angle suggested the camera was filming from the top of a bookcase.
A man came into view, carrying a plate of food and a glass of red wine. He put both down in front of Cora, and then fiddled with the placement of plate and glass, adjusting them to an exact position. Cora waited, saying nothing while he took the napkin from the table and laid it carefully over her lap. Ally couldn’t see all of his face, but it was definitely Thomas, only a different version of the man. This wasn’t the proud, assertive Thomas she’d seen in the last video. He fussed over Cora’s place setting until he was satisfied, then instead of taking the seat opposite, he knelt beside her with his head bowed. Ally kept her eyes on the screen, and her expression neutral. A real dominatrix wouldn’t be fazed by a little role-play.
Cora ate slowly, and sometimes between bites she’d stroke Thomas’s hair or caress his face. Occasionally she’d cut a small piece of meat, pick it up delicately, and hand-feed it to him.
When she’d finished eating, she leaned back and swiveled her chair, bringing her legs out from under the tablecloth. Ally blinked with surprise. What she’d taken for a strapless top was really a corset. And other than a pair of stockings and high heels, Cora was naked from the waist down.
Cora spread her legs and Thomas moved between them, into a similar position to the one Max had occupied last night. But where Ally had made Max sit back and watch, Cora had no reservations. She wove her hand into Thomas’s hair and pulled his face between her thighs.
Ally tightened the muscles between her own thighs, trying to stop the throbbing sensation before it really got going. Getting turned on would be way too embarrassing. But, oh crap. She was alone with a gorgeous man watching pornographic footage, and he smelled so good she could hardly keep from leaning closer to draw in his scent.
On the laptop’s screen, Thomas’s head was moving rhythmically between Cora’s legs. Cora’s eyes were closed and her lips were parted. Thank goodness there was no sound, because Ally didn’t think she could stand hearing Cora moan with pleasure. This was exactly what Ally had been picturing when she bought herself to climax last night, imagining Max’s mouth working between her legs. Imagining him using his strong hands to push her thighs apart and his tongue flicking while his fingers thrust into her.
Oh god. One orgasm last night obviously hadn’t been enough, because her desire was stronger than ever. So strong she squeezed her thighs together to try to stop the aching feeling that was building fast. She was getting damp and her cheeks were probably going pink. Cora’s fingers were fisted in Thomas’s hair, her knuckles white.
Ally snuck a glance at Max and her heart beat faster. He was watching the screen intently. Was he thinking about last night too? No, she couldn’t let this go on. Any minute he’d turn to look at her, and she’d die if he saw how aroused she was. She jerked her face toward the window over the sink as though something outside had caught her attention. Then she stood and walked over to look out, keeping her back to him.
“Everything okay?” Max asked.
She bit her lip hard, getting herself under control before she spoke. “It’s a lovely garden.”
When he didn’t reply, she turned and leaned against the sink. He was shutting the laptop’s lid. “There’s several hours of footage,” he said. “That was one of the highlights. I’m sorry if it offended you.”
“Not at all.” She tried to sound offhand. “I can see why you showed me. The change in Thomas’s demeanor was striking.”
Max nodded. “I understand some powerful men like to hand someone else the reins in their downtime. It helps them relax.”
“Some men, but not you?”
“Not me.”
She raised her eyebrows, surprised by the conviction in his voice.
“I have a serious aversion to letting anyone tell me what to do, so faking it is going to be a challenge.” He gave her a tight smile. “I’m counting on you to help me make it seem real.”
She’d clearly seen the defiant blaze in his eyes when he knelt in front of her last night, and no doubt it would come out on screen too, when shooting started. She swallowed, her stomach flipping over. Until now she’d been mostly worried about getting found out. It hadn’t occurred to her that not only would her articles betray him, but her incompetence might also damage his acting performance. What if he
did badly because she wasn’t able to give him the help he needed? Cold guilt snaked through her. What if she was responsible for destroying his whole career?
No, she wouldn’t let that happen. Ally took a deep breath and swore a silent vow. Forget being embarrassed or unsure of herself. She was not only going to break Max Oberon to the rein, but she was going to make him like it.
# # #
Max sat back on the kitchen stool, admiring Ally’s curves. Silhouetted against the window, the light filtered through her T-shirt and showed off the lovely swell of her breasts and hips. Her shape took his breath away.
He wasn’t a fan of the pressure on models and actresses to be starvation-thin. Some of the most talented women he’d worked with were obsessed with dieting themselves down to a ridiculous size, as though they wanted to only occupy the smallest possible space. And shame on the directors and casting agents who encouraged it, who were doing themselves — and all men — a disservice. Surely he wasn’t the only man who preferred women with rounded contours? The way Ally’s jeans cradled her gorgeous rear and accentuated the sweep of her hips was the way clothes were meant to fit. She’d look great on film. Not only did she have a figure he couldn’t stop admiring, but also smooth, luminous skin and eyes so vibrant they could almost carry a conversation without her having to say a word. The camera would love her.
“Have you ever been in a movie?” he asked.
She gave a small frown and glanced toward the laptop. “No.”
It must have sounded like he was talking about the kind of film they’d just watched, but he hadn’t meant that. Although surely it wasn’t too much of a stretch wondering if a dominatrix had filmed herself with her clients? He’d like to see Ally wearing a corset. Especially if she twined her fingers through his hair while he kneeled between her legs. Funny, the first time he’d watched that footage, he’d been too focused on analyzing Thomas’s posture and mannerisms to find it arousing. But watching it again with Ally, his breath had quickened. He’d hardened and needed to shift to make himself more comfortable. Maybe it was because he’d been between Ally’s legs last night and longed to taste her.
He stood up before the thought had him adjusting his jeans again. “I’ve got some sandwiches packed. Let’s have lunch then run a scene.”
She folded her arms. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no.” Her tone was calm, but firm. “I decide when we eat, and I’m not hungry yet.”
“And I am.” He should give in, act more like Thomas, but dammit, his stomach was rumbling. He hadn’t even been that hungry a moment ago, but the suggestion he’d have to wait had made him ravenous. Seemed his whole body rebelled against being told what to do. “If you’re not ready for lunch yet, I’ll have a snack in the meantime.” He walked around the bench toward the fridge.
“No.” She caught his arm to stop him moving past her. “Why are you fighting me? You wanted me to take charge.”
“Not to decide when I get to eat.”
“Then what? I only tell you to do what you want, when you want?”
Dammit, she had a point. With her hip jutting out and her chin lifted, she looked sexy. Her hand was warm against his arm and she smelled fresh and feminine, with a hint of perfume. Maybe he could wait a few minutes to eat.
“What would you like to do?” he asked.
She tilted her head to one side and he had to fight back a smile when he realized she hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Do you have a script?” she asked after a moment.
“Sure.”
He pulled his arm away slowly. Did she seem as reluctant to release him as he was to move away from her? No, it was his imagination. Shaking his head at the thought, he fetched a couple of scripts. He gave her one of them and she flipped through the pages, scanning the text. Then she closed it.
“Show me how the movie starts,” she suggested. “Act it out for me.”
“Thomas is a tough guy at the beginning of the movie. He doesn’t change until he meets Cora.”
“I’d like to see it.”
He shrugged. “I can play a tough guy. That’s not what I need to work on.”
She motioned to the door that led to the living room. “Show me.”
He started at the beginning: Thomas chasing down a suspect before being ambushed. It was a choreographed fight scene, fast and brutal. Three big men almost overpowered Thomas before he finally managed to draw his gun and put them down. Designed to show the audience how tough he was, and how committed. Willing to put his life on the line to do the right thing.
In the living room, Max did the best he could to fight a one-man battle against imaginary assailants, complete with sound effects. He blasted them to hell, then searched the invisible bodies to find a couple of bags of heroin. Hopefully when he licked his bottom lip, it was obvious he was licking away blood.
Ally’s eyes were wide and bright, her gaze fixed on him, so he kept going.
The next scene was Thomas and another detective in a car, driving while they talked about Cora’s operation and the best way to bring her down. They bantered back and forth. Max sat on a chair and played both parts using different voices and different mannerisms. Thomas was driving, with his elbow resting on the window frame and his fingers tapping the steering wheel in time with the song on the radio. The other detective smoked nervously, his eyes darting around, searching the streets for anything suspicious.
Max particularly liked the part of the scene when Thomas told the other detective what he’d had to give up to live an undercover cop’s double life. He was constantly on guard and afraid he’d get found out. He believed strongly in doing the right thing, so being forced to act the part of a bad guy was torture. Especially when the lines were blurring, and the people he was investigating were becoming his closest friends. The tone of Thomas’s speech made it obvious that he was wearing down, starting to question his most basic beliefs. When the script called for him to fall silent, Max imagined Thomas thinking about an old love who hadn’t waited for him, but had gotten married and had kids with some other guy. He let the pain of the imagining show in his entire body, let the loss fill him with real sorrow and regret.
When the scene was over, Max came back to himself with an effort. Ally was leaning forward in her armchair. She blinked. Her eyes had lightened and he caught a glimpse of tears. His performance must have moved her. He loved the feeling of becoming a character, especially one written this well.
Ally drew in a deep breath that was almost a sigh. “You didn’t have any problem becoming Thomas then, did you?”
“No.”
“Do you know your lines by heart?”
“Mostly.”
She picked up the script from her lap, cleared her throat and read, “Thomas, are you hungry?”
He winced inwardly. She’d found one of his least favorite scenes in the movie. Researching Thomas and rehearsing for the movie, he’d felt he was really getting to know him. He liked the guy, and could understand why he’d done the things he had. Except for his relationship with Cora. Max didn’t get that at all.
He knew the line she waited for though, even if Thomas’s response made him cringe. “I’m only hungry to please you.”
It sounded insincere. Dammit! Surely he could deliver a few simple words, even if he didn’t agree with the sentiment behind them.
Max took a breath and gave the line a different inflection. “I’m only hungry to please you.” No, it was all wrong.
“Thomas must have trusted Cora deeply to put his free will into her hands,” said Ally.
Max nodded. He hadn’t considered that aspect, but Ally was right. Thomas must have believed very strongly that Cora wouldn’t turn the power he’d given her against him.
“Is there anyone you’d trust that much?” she asked.
He gave her a level stare. “Last time I trusted someone it didn’t end well.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Did you have a girlfriend who br
oke your heart?”
“Nothing like that. It was my first manager, and she decided she’d prefer to be the one to spend my money. The police tracked her to Costa Rica, but apparently my money paid for enough bribes to allow her to mysteriously vanish.”
“So you have a problem with making yourself vulnerable?”
The topic made him uncomfortable. “I can project vulnerability.”
“Can you? Give me the line again.”
He put everything he had into it, but again his delivery fell flat. Something inside him was fighting the whole idea, and he couldn’t keep it hidden.
“You’ll do better once we’ve gotten to know each other,” she said. “We should work on that first.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Shall we play a game?” Her tone was light and teasing. “Truth or Dare?”
He glanced toward the kitchen. “Truth. Aren’t you hungry?”
She laughed, and he couldn’t help but grin in response. She had the best laugh, loud and hearty, from deep in her belly. The kind of laugh that couldn’t be faked, not like the high-pitched, girlish giggles he was used to hearing on set. And he’d been right when he first met her. Her gray eyes did get lighter when she laughed, not just when she was aroused.
“How about this? I’ll ask you a question, and if you give me a full and honest answer, you get to eat.”
“What question?” No doubt she’d ask how it felt to be famous and be recognized everywhere he went. That’s what most people wanted to know.
“Were you in love with your first manager?”
“Absolutely not.” He shook his head with surprise, although he should have guessed she wouldn’t ask the same question that everyone else did.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“That’s two questions.”
She stared him down. “I’m the boss, remember?”
Yeah, it wasn’t like she was letting him forget it. But when she challenged him with that expression, her bottom lip jutting assertively beneath her adorable freckled nose, she looked so sexy it took the sting out of it. “My job makes that kind of thing impossible.” He kept his tone light, hoping that would satisfy her, but she gave a small frown and crossed her arms.
