Maceo hauled him from Ori, who scrambled away from her stepfather. Maceo punched Tyson hard, the older man dropping like a stone, and it took both Ori and Alex to pull Maceo from him.
“Let’s go,” Alex said urgently and in moments they were back into his town car, racing away from the scene. Alex switched the radio on and they heard the news breaking. Ori, breathless and shaken, looked at Maceo. “Phase One complete,” she said. Maceo half smiled.
“The journalist is meeting us back at the hotel.”
“She did a good job,” Ori said gratefully and looked at Alex. “You chose well.”
Alex smiled at her. “Thanks. Well, we’re in it now, so let’s hope it pays off.”
Tyson Janek kicked his way back into his hotel room cursing and yelling, his aides and security team cowering under his rage. “Find what hotel she’s in, now! I want a way to get to Ori without her bodyguards being there. That bitch isn’t going to draw another breath when I’m done with her.”
The aides exchanged glances. “Congressman, if anything were to happen to Ms. Roy now, you would be the first suspect.”
Tyson tried to rein in his temper. He knew they were right but, God, on that podium, if he’d had his knife, he would have stabbed Ori to death right there, in front of the world’s media. Fucking, fucking bitch. He never honestly thought she would have the guts to do what she did today. Fuck. This was it; even if he denied the claims, he was never coming back from this. It was over.
His suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when the chairman of his party called. It was a brief, tense conversation, but it was made very clear to Tyson that he no longer had the support of the party. His resignation would be expected the next morning. Tyson didn’t even challenge it.
Fuck this. If he was going to hell, then he would take Ori with him. If the police were going to investigate and charge him, then he might as well go down for her murder as well.
He dismissed everybody except his most trusted bodyguard. When they were alone, he eyed the man. He’d hired him because of the cold lack of empathy he had seen in him, and now he was grateful for it. ’She has to die.”
The bodyguard nodded. “Do you want me to do it, boss? I’m happy to.”
That was the other thing he liked; the man simply enjoyed killing as much as Tyson, but he shook his head. “No, I want to do it. I just need you to bring her to me. Unmarked car. We’ll take her out of the city and I’ll do it there and leave her body in the car.”
“She’s pretty well-protected.”
“I know.” Tyson sighed. “But there’s always an opportunity at some point. Make it happen.”
Ori was exhausted. After talking with the journalist, telling her and AJ’s entire story, it had felt like a huge weight lifting and now she just wanted to sleep. She lay next to Maceo as he stroked her skin with his hand. There was concern in his eyes and now she wanted it in the open.
“He will try and kill me now,” she said softly, “before I can say anything more, before I give evidence to the police.”
“Which is why we need to get out of the country.”
Ori shook her head. “No. I need to speak to the police first.”
Maceo gave a sharp sigh of frustration and sat up. “I swear, sometimes you have a death wish.”
“I don’t, Maceo, I swear. But we came here to do this; let’s finish it.”
Maceo’s back was tense and she pressed her lips against his shoulder blade. “Baby, we’re nearly home and free. Don’t be angry with me.”
He looked around at her, his large green eyes full of love. “I’m not angry, mio caro.”
Ori smiled. “Good.” She pushed him back onto the bed, unzipping his pants and sliding them down his legs before straddling him. Maceo looked up at her naked body appreciatively as her hands stroked the length of his cock.
“Have I told you just how beautiful you are, today?”
Ori grinned. “Cheeseball.”
Maceo laughed, then shuddered as she cupped his balls in her hands. “The things you do to me, mio caro….”
She guided him inside her and rode him, gently at first, then, as their hands joined, she moved faster, taking his cock deep inside of her velvety warmth, moaning softly as he filled her.
Maceo’s hands drifted down her body, his fingers tracing a line down her belly, circling her navel and into her sex, finding her clit and kneading the tiny bud. His other hand stroked her full breasts, enjoying the slight bounce of them as she moved on top of him. She turned him on so much that as they approached orgasm, he suddenly flipped her onto her back and drove himself into her harder and deeper until they were both crying each other’s name and his cock was pumping thick white semen deep inside her. Ori, feeling mischievous, didn’t let him rest, ordering him to fuck her in the shower, on the floor, then against the wall. Maceo willingly went along with her, grinning and laughing at her almost feral appetite for him.
They fell asleep just before dawn. A couple of hours later, Alex knocked at their door. “You’ll want to turn the television on.”
Huddled on the couch, Ori and Maceo stared at the large flat screen television as Tyson Janek, his face pale and drawn, spoke to a much tighter group of journalists than yesterday.
“Obviously, these allegations are a disgusting slur on my character and I can assure you that I will prove my innocence in all matters. My stepdaughter has long been bitter towards me since her mother cut her out of her will; this was after discovering that the young and sexually precocious Orianthi had made many sexual advances to me. I knew that, one day, our relaxed method of parenting would return to haunt me, and so it seems that day has come. If you’re listening, Ori, please, darling, get the help we all so desperately want you to have. AJ wanted you to have that help too, and your reluctance to do so, well, let’s just say, there were reasons why he decided to end his life the way he did.”
Ori drew in a sharp breath and Maceo cursed loudly. “Figlio di puttana!’
Alex shut off the television and held up his hands. “It’s hard to hear that, but here’s the thing. The press isn’t buying his story, Ori. The New York Times has basically been gathering information about Janek’s proclivities for years, and they hit him with it in this morning’s edition.”
He handed her the paper. Ori read the headline: Janek’s Closet Empties Out – Congressman denies rape and abuse, but staffers say it went on for years.” She felt a lump in her throat and looked at Maceo and Alex.
“His staffers are telling the truth?”
“More than one,” Alex said gently. Ori wiped a tear away.
“He really is going down, huh?”
“The FBI are investigating, Ori. I’ve already had a call about you being interviewed.”
Ori sighed, leaning against Maceo, who put his arms around her and looked up at his friend in gratitude. “Thank you, my friend, for everything. We could not have done this without you.”
Alex smiled. “My pleasure. Look, we need to talk security later, but for now, I’ll give you two some space.”
When they were alone, Ori looked at Maceo with shining eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?”
Maceo nodded, smiling. “It looks like it, bella.”
“Thank God.”
Benoit had insisted on driving Shiloh to the airport himself. Shiloh had been quiet all day, and now he looked over at her. “Are you excited?”
“I am,” she said softly. “I’m just not a fan of traveling. Besides, I worry about Beau in the cargo hold.”
“I would offer my private jet, but I know you don’t approve.”
She gave him a half smile. “I’m not going to lie; I would be torn about my principles and having Beau in the cabin with me.”
“You will email me? We can Skype often too, and I can keep you up to date on my projects, if that would be of interest?”
“Of course.” She looked away and out of the window, and Benoit nodded to himself. He would not make this separation harder by telling
her just how desperately he would miss her. He was already grieving for the loss, but he was damned if he’d show it. This was the best opportunity Shiloh had been offered; Benoit Vaux knew how rare these things were. Over the past two weeks, Shiloh had seemed to have drifted away from him emotionally and physically, and he knew she was absorbed in her work. That was good. That was how he had become a self-made billionaire. Work was the key.
At the gate, he kissed Shiloh’s soft pink mouth and felt the silky strands of her light blonde hair drift through his fingers. “Shiloh Holt,” he said. “You are a magical woman. You will go on and change the world, I have no doubt about that. I am lucky to call you a friend.”
There was a little flinch, he noticed, but she smiled at him. “And the same to you, Benoit. Thank you for changing my mind about your kind. Look, I have to go, but I will email you.”
“As soon as you’re settled,” he said, and kissed her again. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “C'est avec vous que j'ai commencé à dire oui au monde.”
It is with you that I started to say yes to the world. “Paul Eluard,” Shiloh breathed, touched beyond comprehension, “I know that saying. It’s beautiful.”
Benoit nodded and opened his eyes. “And very appropriate.”
Shiloh stared at him, and he thought he saw a flash of tears there, but she smiled brightly at him. “I must go.”
“Goodbye, Shiloh. We will see each other again.”
She nodded but said nothing, as if not trusting herself to speak. She walked through the gate, only looking back once more to see him waving.
Benoit watched her disappear, his heart sinking. If I had known one year ago what an effect this woman would have on me … Love, he decided, was a distraction. Love was the willowy blonde walking away from him right now.
He drove back into the city through the cool Paris night and went to a bar near his home. He ordered a scotch and nursed it for a while before walking back to his apartment. Knowing Shiloh was in the air made him feel the emptiness of his home keenly.
He snagged his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. Marcella answered, her smoky voice purring down the phone at him. “Benoit, darling, it’s been too long.”
“How was your trip, Marcella?”
“Too much sun, too much drink, too many young lovers. I adored it.” She gave a throaty laugh.
Benoit grinned. “Marcella, what say we get together for a drink? I need a beautiful distraction.”
Twenty minutes later, he was in a cab to her apartment and when she opened the door wearing nothing but a long silk robe, Benoit only hesitated for a moment before walking into the room. Marcella studied him.
“Mon chére,” she said, without criticism, “you have changed.”
Benoit nodded. “I have. Someone changed me. But now, Marcella, I need to forget her. Will you help me with that?”
Marcella smiled and held out her hand, letting her robe fall open to reveal her lithe, athletic body. “But of course, my dear, but of course….”
Already flying high above the city, Shiloh looked out of the window at the lights of Paris beneath her and let a few tears drip down her face. Goodbye. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hand over her belly. She’d lain in her bed the morning of her appointment at the clinic and listened to them calling her voicemail, asking her where she was. She couldn’t do it. Not Benoit’s child. Not her child. Whatever physical changes had come over her were nothing to the emotional bond she already felt with the tiny embryo inside her. She couldn’t get rid of it and now that she would be alone in Africa … screw it, she had thought. I want this child; I want it so badly.
She sighed and leaned her head against the window. Even if its father doesn’t want me…
Tyson Janek was tired of waiting. His career had been shot to smithereens and now he had nothing left. Well, not nothing; there was still his private fortune—he would never have to work again. But Tyson wanted fame above everything, and if he couldn’t get it through politics …
He found out where she and Bartoli were staying and put together a reasonably sloppy disguise to throw her bodyguards off the scent. He figured if he went all out on prosthetics, it would be seen through in a moment. Instead, he shaved his head and wore his frameless glasses. His glossy, well-coiffed head of hair had been his standout insignia, along with his blandly handsome face. Without it, someone wouldn’t be completely sure if it was him or not.
It was ridiculously easy to gain entrance to her hotel – even easier to bribe some staff into helping him. He used one of his staff’s credit cards to book into a suite. He had to be careful; his bodyguard had reported back to him that the F.B.I. was talking to Ori. They might be with her. They might on the lookout for him.
So he let himself into the suite opposite Ori and Maceo’s and waited. She would be unprotected at some point; the Ori he knew hated to be cooped up. She would skip out for some ice from the machine in the hallway, or down to the lobby for some air, and then he would take her. No elaborate plan, just grab her and stick the knife into her as many times as he could before her security came running. Easy.
Ha, Tyson thought now, setting up a chair near the door so he could hear her door opening and shutting, along snippets of conversations. Easy wasn’t the word I’d choose. Ori would die in agony, bleeding out before her bastard lover could summon the help she needed. Tyson didn’t much care about himself after that; they could put him in jail. As long as Ori was dead, he would be satisfied.
His chance came three days later. He was listening to her talking to Maceo at their doorway before kissing him goodbye and telling him to hurry back home. Tyson watched through the peephole as Maceo Bartoli took off. The other guy, the American, seemed to be in the room with her, but when Tyson heard him leave too, he risked going across to the door and trying it.
He couldn’t believe it. It was open. His heart pounding, he darted back to his room and grabbed the knife he kept ready. It was long, thin, and lethal.
Tyson crept slowly over to Ori’s room and went inside. He walked silently through the apartment until he saw her. She was napping on the couch, stretched along the wide cushions. In her sleep, her T-shirt had ridden up, and Tyson was distracted by the long expanse of silky brown midriff. He gripped the knife and stepped forward, crouching down to her level. God, she was beautiful … he placed the tip of the knife against her skin, anticipating how it would split and gush blood, how her eyes would open in shock and terror, her moans of agony ...
“Goodbye, Ori….”
A hand clamped over his mouth and jerked him away from Ori’s sleeping body. He dropped the knife as he realized he could smell chemicals and then the room was fading around him. As he lost consciousness, he heard a voice next to his ear, say, “Your death will be more merciful than you deserve, you piece of scum, more merciful than the one you were about to give Ori … you’ll never touch her again….”
Tyson Janek knew then he was a dead man and that Ori, his Ori, had finally won.
When Ori woke, it was already dark. She blinked; she’d only meant to sleep for an hour or so. Someone was banging on the door. “Miss Roy! Miss Roy!’
She pushed herself off the couch and stumbled, still half asleep, to the door. Yanking it open, she was amazed to see her bodyguard almost frantic.
“God, are you okay? Jesus, please, sit down, I’ll call 911.”
Ori was completely discombobulated and let him lead her to the couch. “David, I don’t need 911. I’m fine; what are you …?.” She trailed off as she placed a hand on her belly to quell the rising panic—and her hand came away wet. She looked down.
Blood. Ice flooded her veins … what the hell? She pulled up her T-shirt to find a shallow but definite stab wound just right of her navel. What the hell was going on?
She suddenly felt lightheaded and she must have paled as David, who was always professional with her, stuck his arm around her to steady here. He was talking rapidly into his phone, only paus
ing when she turned frightened eyes towards him.
“I’ve been stabbed,” she said in disbelief and he nodded, grim-faced, relaying that news to whomever was on the other end of the phone. A second later she discovered it was Maceo, also frantic; as David handed the phone to her, she could hear him yelling her name.
“Ori, mio Dio, are you okay?”
“Maceo, calm down, I’m fine. It’s not very deep … I just don’t understand how it happened.”
She heard heavy breathing as Maceo tried to gather himself. “Maceo … why was David pounding on the door? Has something happened?”
“God, Ori … it’s Janek. He’s been found dead.”
Shock rippled through her—shock, but not sadness. “That’s … not important to us anymore.”
Maceo sighed. “Look, David is going to take you to the emergency room and I’ll meet you there. Where the hell was Alex all day?”
“Sweetheart, he has a job. I told him I’d be fine….” Jesus, she had no idea what was going on, and she suddenly felt exhausted. “Okay, look, I’ll go with David. You’ll be there?”
“Of course.”
Maceo, his handsome face lined with fear, wrapped his arms around her. The doctor smiled at him. “She’s fine. It’s just a little cut. I’m more concerned about the sedative.”
Maceo was confused. “What?”
Ori touched his face. “They think I was drugged with some kind of sedative. That’s how come I didn’t feel it when I was stabbed ...” She looked to the doctor, who nodded.
“We’ve called the police, obviously. Look, you have your antibiotics. I’d like you to stay in one night for observation.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is,” Maceo interrupted her protest in a tone that she’d never heard before. Hard, angry, shocked. She nodded at him, squeezing his hand. Calm down.
“Fine. Thanks, Doctor.”
Dirty Little Virgin: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 52
