by K D Grace
Edward looked down to where the two sat, heads together in deep conversation, and his stomach clenched. ‘Rita wouldn’t do that,’ he repeated. ‘Rita would never do that.’
Vivienne offered a throaty chuckle. ‘My poor Edward. You’re so naïve. So trusting. I’d have thought you’d have learned by now.’
‘That’s right, I am trusting. I trust her completely.’ Still, why the hell did she have to look so hot for the man? Why did she bring him at all? None of it made any sense. He white-knuckled the rail as he watched Rita’s boss possessively push aside a lock of her hair, silky hair that he knew smelled vaguely of coconut. Was she trying to torture him because he couldn’t have her just yet, because he was being forced to wait? God, if she only knew how difficult all this was for him.
Vivienne leaned in close and kissed Edward’s earlobe. ‘She’ll betray us before the month is out. Surely you can see this. She’s only using you, using all of us to get a story.’
Edward jerked away. ‘That’s not true. She wouldn’t.’
She leaned in again and bit his ear, playfully. ‘Want a bet?’
This time he pushed her away and stepped back, his eyes still locked on the couple below. ‘What bet? What are you talking about?’
‘You know, a wager. Don’t act so innocent, Edward, darling. You know all about wagers, don’t you?’
He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. How dare she bring up such a thing here and now? But she continued as though she were merely discussing the weather.
‘I’ll wager that before her initiation is over, Talkabout magazine will run a front-page exposé on The Mount. I can see the headlines now.’ She lifted a hand in front of them as though she were placing the headline on a bill board. ‘Restaurant and Dance Club exposed as Secret Sex Cult.’ She giggled. ‘I like that, don’t you? Secret sex cult. It has a nice ring to it.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
She held his gaze, the humour gone from her eyes. ‘Want to bet? I’ll give you a chance to win back what you’ve lost.’
Suddenly it was difficult to breathe, more difficult than it had been watching the woman he wanted to be with making nicey-nice with another man. It was true, he trusted Rita completely. He didn’t know why. He barely knew her, and yet there had been that moment on the train in the dark, before he ever saw her face, before he ever knew how outrageous she was, how well she could play the game. He just knew. He swallowed hard. ‘All right. I’ll bet you. I’ll bet that not only will Rita Holly not betray us, but I’ll bet she wins the respect of every member of The Mount and passes the initiation with flying colours. That’s what I’ll bet.’
The humour returned to her eyes. She held his gaze with that half-smile look she often gave him when she was scheming something. ‘That’s all very nice, darling, but remember, you have nothing to wager.’ The smile slipped from her lips, and she studied him. In spite of the music and laughter and the tinkling of cutlery and crystal from below, suddenly everything seemed bathed in cottony silence, and all he could hear was the hammering of his heart in his ears. Then, after what seemed forever came the response he would have never expected. ‘All right, Edward. I’ll spot you on this one. I’ve been rather generous with the terms of the last bet you lost. But this time, if you lose, I promise I’ll find new and exciting ways to make you pay.’
‘There’s something to be said for expensive wine. Go on, try it.’ Owen drank deeply. But Rita barely touched hers. She couldn’t afford to lose her wits to the wine when she suspected Vivienne of treachery.
‘You look tired, Rita.’ He studied her for a long moment over the top of his wine glass, then he heaved a sigh like he’d just solved a daunting problem. ‘I’m concerned that this story might be too much for you, I mean you really do look tired, no offence, Rita, but wow!’ He sat his glass down and leaned over the table toward her offering her his best concerned-boss face, then he continued very softly. ‘No one would argue that you’re an excellent journalist, but you’re new, and let’s face it, honey, you’re way out of your league here. You might want to consider letting me help you with this one.’
She forced a smile around her gritted teeth. ‘Thanks, Owen. But I can handle it just fine.’
He lifted his hands in a back-off gesture. ‘Just a thought. Keep it in mind in case the burden gets too heavy. You know I’m always here for you.’ Before she could respond, he changed the subject. ‘The woman with all the sapphires, do you know her?’
‘Lorelei? I’ve been introduced. Yes’
‘She really fancies me.’
Rita nearly choked on her water.
He gave a self-satisfied chuckle. ‘She is a bit cheeky, though, don’t you think? I mean the complimentary bottle of vino, the lovely show of cleavage, and me here with another woman. I hope you weren’t too upset. Is she seeing anyone?’
Rita mentally rolled her eyes. ‘It didn’t come up in the conversation.’
‘When she said dinner and drinks are on the house. What do you think she meant by that?’
Rita tried to heave a sigh and felt the pinch. ‘I think she meant you won’t have to expense the evening.’ She thought it was very decent of Vivienne not to make Talkabout pay for her vicious little scheme.
But Owen wasn’t listening. ‘Surely she’s more than just a hostess, dressed like that. She is, isn’t she? She’s somebody. I’m sure I’ve seen her before, maybe at L’Escargot. Yes I’m sure I must have. I think she might have recognised me too. Maybe that’s why the special treatment.’
‘Afraid you’ll just have to ask her.’ Rita said. She watched Owen mentally inventory the room for who could do him the most good. And at the moment, most of the people who were anybody were on the dance floor.
He drained his wine glass and stood. ‘We should dance,’ he took her hand and practically dragged her from the booth. Fortunately the music covered her little grunt of pain, and with him eyeing the who’s who on the dance floor, he didn’t notice how stiffly she moved to get up. ‘You do dance, don’t you, Rita?’
He didn’t wait for an answer. He half led, half pulled her onto the dance floor, where he promptly stepped on her foot twice as they attempted a simple fox trot. Keeping the beat seemed to be a foreign concept to him. The new discomfort growing in the pit of Rita’s stomach had nothing to do with the chastity belt. If Owen couldn’t dance – and it was eminently clear that he couldn’t – no way in hell would he be dragged onto the dance floor in a place as important to him as The Mount.
Alarm bells jangled in Rita’s head as Owen stumbled against her and grabbed at her for support. He hadn’t drunk enough wine to cause coordination problems, and it was well known that the man could hold his alcohol. He stepped on her foot again and bumped into her. ‘Owen? Are you all right?’
‘Never better.’ He laughed too loud and several couples glanced in their direction as he pulled her so close that what little breath she did have was forced from her lungs. ‘God, you smell good, Rita, ‘I’m not talkin’ ’bout your perfume.’ He chuckled suggestively against her ear, and one hand slid down to grope her arse, pulling her close enough so that there was no ignoring the enormous hard-on straining against his expensively clothed crotch. ‘I can smell when a woman wants it, ’n honey, I’m surprised you didn’t rip my clothes off ’n ride me in the limo.’
His slurred speech and sudden lack of inhibitions alarmed her even further. A quick look around assured her everyone was pretending not to notice. ‘Owen,’ she whispered urgently. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t appropriate.’ He swung her around awkwardly and groped her breast, then made a frightening attempt at a dip.
It was then, in her peripheral vision, she saw movement on the catwalk, a man and a woman, but before she could get a better look, Owen jerked her back to him and shoved his tongue halfway down her throat. ‘My God, Rita,’ he grunted as he came up for air, oblivious to her efforts to push him away. ‘This place makes me so horny. No wonder you come here. M
usbe somethin’ in the air.’ He shoved her toward the edge of the dance floor, practically dry-humping her with every step.
‘What’s that idiot doing?’ Edward leaned over the rail so far that Vivienne grabbed the tail of his jacket and pulled him back.
She chuckled softly. ‘It’s called dancing, Edward. Some people are better at it than others.’
‘That’s not dancing. Can’t you see he’s hurting her?’
‘Hurting her? Oh, you mean the chastity belt?’
He pushed her hand away. ‘I can see it, even if you can’t. Look at the way she moves, the way she winces.’
‘Poor empathetic Edward. I’m so sorry you feel her pain.’
‘You could have at least let her wear something underneath.’
‘She’s an initiate, Edward. Initiates don’t get silk knickers with their chastity belts.’
He leaned over the rail, alarm rising in his chest. ‘What the hell is going on? He’s practically attacking her.’
‘Oh don’t worry. It’s just a little fun, that’s all.’
He felt ice in his stomach as the man stumbled and groped, then roared with laughter. ‘This is your scheming, isn’t it? You got the reservation. He’s here because of you isn’t he? Dear God, Vivienne, please tell me you didn’t give him something.’
She shrugged and smoothed the front of her dress, suddenly very interested in the beading. ‘Not me. I didn’t.’
‘Owen Frank is way too concerned about impressions to grope his employee on the dance floor of The Mount. Now what the fuck is going on?’ He pulled his mobile from his pocket and texted rapidly.
‘Oh come on, darling. It’s just a little fun.’
‘At the expense of Rita’s initiation? At the expense of a man’s dignity?’
‘What would you know about dignity,’ she pouted.
He texted.
Alex, get Rita out of there. Now! My suite.
Rory, take care of Owen Frank. He’s drugged.
Then he turned and fled, ignoring Vivienne, who called after him. No doubt she’d make him pay for that offence later.
‘Owen, what the hell are you doing? Stop it!’ Rita had managed to manoeuvre him back to the booth, but once there, he was practically on top of her. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid the groping that might give away her secret. She squirmed and twisted to regain control and keep from making a spectacle, ignoring the pinch and squeeze of the belt which bordered on full-blown pain. Something was definitely wrong. Owen might be a twat, but he would never attack her like some horny baboon. She shoved him aside long enough to grab a water glass. ‘Here, drink this, and breathe deeply.’
He knocked the water out of her hand and spilled it down the front of her dress, which drew his attention immediately to her chilled nipples. She had only just redirected his attempt to grab her tit when his other hand found its way up the inside of her thigh. ‘Owen, stop it!’ Alarm spiked in her chest. If this was Vivienne’s doing, there would be no help for her. She was on her own.
The more she tried to disentangle herself, the more the belt pinched. Owen was frighteningly strong. She was about to take drastic measures and bash him with the wine bottle, when Alex appeared out of nowhere and pulled her away with such force that it took her breath. ‘So sorry, but, Ms Holly, you have an urgent phone call. If you would follow me.’
Almost before she was out of the way, Aurora, clothed in a sexy black mini-dress, stepped in and pulled Owen from the booth. ‘You’re Owen Frank, aren’t you?’ Her voice sounded breathy, girlish. ‘I’ve heard so much about you, and I love Talkabout magazine. I’ve been dying to meet you.’ She rubbed up against him. ‘I’m such a fan.’ She offered him a coy pout, which accentuated her full bottom lip. ‘I know someplace where we can talk, privately, that is if you’re interested.’ She offered her hand, and he followed without protest, barely aware that his date was being escorted away by one of the dancers.
Chapter Seven
Before Rita realised what was happening, Alex escorted her to an elevator hidden behind stacks of spare tables and chairs near the kitchen.
Inside, she broke into a cold sweat and would have found it difficult to stand if not for Alex’s supporting arm. She always took the stairs, which was great for the cardiovascular system, and cut way down on embarrassing incidents of hyperventilation in tight spaces.
She vice-gripped Alex’s arm and tried to focus. ‘Owen’s been drugged.’
‘I know. It wasn’t supposed to happen.’ He mistook her distress for concern. ‘He’ll be all right. Don’t worry. Aurora will take good care of him.’
‘Vivienne did this.’
Alex didn’t answer, but the muscles twitched and knotted along his jaw bone. Just as the elevator opened into blessed space, he slipped his arm tighter around her and guided her down a carpeted hallway with doors on either side. If Rita hadn’t known better, she could have easily mistaken the place for an expensive hotel. Near the end of the hall, he punched a coded security lock and the door opened into a dimly lit suite of smoked glass and chrome.
He had barely closed the door behind them when it burst open again, and Edward appeared in his golden mask. He pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace. ‘Are you all right? You didn’t drink the wine, did you?’
She shook her head, and viciously blinked back tears. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
‘God, I was so worried.’ He pulled away so violently that for a second she thought he was angry. ‘Take the dress off,’ he commanded. ‘Alex help her. Get it off her now.’
Rita made no attempt to protest as Alex stripped her until she stood in nothing but a small lacy bra, stockings and suspenders and the horrid chastity belt.
Edward stood for a long moment taking in the sight of her. Once again the golden mask hid any emotions he might be feeling. At last, he spoke, ‘Do you have the key?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s at home. I thought if I brought it I might be tempted to –’
‘To what? Fuck your boss?’
With a move that surprised even her, she slapped him hard enough that it stung her hand, hard enough that it knocked the mask askew. If she had been a little less angry and he a little slower, she might have caught a glimpse of his face.
‘I’m claustrophobic, you bastard. Remember? And my claustrophobia’s not limited to small dark rooms. I was afraid if I brought the key, I’d be tempted just to take the damn thing off.’
He cursed under his breath. From his pocket he pulled the Vitronox knife and opened it.
‘What are you doing? What’s that for? Edward, what’s going on?’ Panic rose in her throat. She stepped back, but found her way blocked by Alex.
‘I’m getting the belt off you, that’s what I’m doing.’ Edward reached for the waist band with one hand, but she pushed him away.
‘No! Vivienne said if I take it off, I fail. Leave it alone. You’ll risk everything?’ She tried to push back farther, but Alex was like a solid wall behind her, grabbing her arms to keep her from struggling.
She kicked hard, and her left foot made contact with the muscle of Edward’s calf. He grunted and cursed, then pushed in closer and took her face in one hand. ‘Damn it, Rita! Hold still. This is no longer a part of the initiation. Vivienne broke the rules by bringing Owen into the picture and drugging him. Your task for her is now void. For God sake, let me get it off of you, sweetheart. OK?’
Edward grasped the top of the belt and with a quick downward motion that a surgeon would have envied, slit the leather allowing air to rush back into her lungs. He knelt to help her step out of the cursed belt. Then his hands were on her, examining the chafed places, caressing her pubis with a feather touch. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. His breath was cool and soothing against her burning skin. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He pulled her close, kissing her navel, cupping and kneading her buttocks. She curled her fingers in his hair and held him to her, dizzy with a cocktail of feelings she figured would take her until next Chris
tmas to sort out.
Then Alex spoiled it all. He laid a hand on Edward’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Edward, but the initiation’s not over.’
The sigh she felt against her belly sounded almost painful. ‘You’re right. It’s not.’ Edward stood and kissed her until her knees were weak and her head was buzzing, along with all the rest of her. Then he disentangled her arms from around his neck and offered her hand to Alex.
‘Take her, Alex.’ His voice was rough, as though every word abraded his throat. ‘Make her feel better.’
She felt as though she’d been slapped.
‘Are you sure?’ Alex held Edward’s gaze as he took Rita’s hand.
‘I’m sure.’
‘Edward?’ The panic was back, fear that Edward would leave. It was a stupid fear. He always left, and she never really got to see him, not really.
‘It’s all right, darling.’ It was as though he’d read her mind. ‘I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re OK.’
She let Alex lead her into the bedroom. Edward followed close behind.
There were candles lit around the room and the bed in the middle was big enough for an orgy. Rita imagined it had probably been the venue for more than a few. Standing in front of the bed, Alex turned to face her. He stroked her cheek and kissed her ear, but she felt cold inside. As though he sensed it, he moved closer. ‘Rita, the initiation is not meant to be without pleasure or comfort.’ One hand traced the contours of her torso, down her hip, sliding a finger under the edge of the garter belt. ‘That’s what I’m here for, and you’re so desirable, so exquisite. Use me.’ He kissed her, lips parted just enough for a flick of the tongue. His breath was warm and tasted slightly of wine. ‘Edward will tell me exactly what to do, and you can pretend I’m him. Please. Let me make you feel better.’
It shouldn’t have happened, not after the trauma of the evening, not after everything she had been through this week. And yet she felt the tightening low in her belly, the bearing down, the beginnings of need that had been kindled when Edward came into her life. It was a need she could have never imagined to be so powerful, so brazen, and yet here she was about to allow herself to be fucked vicariously.
