“Yes, please,” she said. “I would love to.”
Chapter 16
Of all scenarios, waltzing into a dinner party at Stone Island as the date of Victor Lazar's long-lost niece was the last one he could have envisioned. Seth tied up at the Stone Island dock, and forced himself to concentrate on arming the custom-modified infrared motion-detector security device on his boat. If anyone came within two meters of the boat in his absence, a device attached to his waistband would vibrate, and a video camera would snap to life, recording everything.
Attention to detail was everything in this kind of work, but he kept staring into space, forgetting where he was, breaking out in muttered profanity. He wanted to confront her, but he was bound by his own secrets. Secrecy had never felt constricting before. It had always felt like power. Now it made him feel helpless and maddened.
Three days ago, he would have crawled naked over broken glass for an opportunity to walk right through Stone Island's wall-of-thorns security. But his mind was reeling, his focus blown. He kept trying to come up with a plan for
tonight, but he couldn't think, couldn't plan. He was going to have to wing it. Look what he was reduced to. Victor Lazar was a fucking genius.
The house was lit up like a Christmas tree. It felt strange to march right up to lie place without sneaking. The flagstone path was lit by strings of ice-white lights draped from tree to tree. He felt exposed, despite the SIG Sauer in the shoulder holster beneath his coat.
A huge fireplace was roaring in the main reception hall. There was a jazz combo in the corner of the room, and a saxophone was crooning. It was filled with people in evening dress. He recognized a local politician out on the terrace, carrying on an animated conversation with a lovely young woman in a short fur jacket. The young woman gulped champagne, threw back her head and laughed. Too bad Connor wasn't here, with his encyclopedic knowledge of the local movers and shakers. All Seth knew was that Victor had all kinds of people in his pocket, the only common denominators being wealth, power, and a secret weakness that Lazar had learned to exploit. Just as he'd done to Seth. He was just as compromised as any of these poor, champagne-guzzling bastards.
“Ah! There he is. Our intrepid security consultant. Come in, come in.” Lazar hurried forward, seized Seth's hand and pumped it heartily. “So glad you came. Raine will be delighted. She despaired of you coming when the last boat arrived.”
“I came in my own boat.”
Victor's eyebrows arched. “Ah. And well you should, if you have the means. Where is that girl? Ah, there she is, chatting with Sergio. My dear! Your guest of honor has arrived!”
But Seth could no longer register what Lazar said. The world disappeared, the air was sucked out of his lungs. All he saw was Raine.
She was a fucking goddess, decked out like that. Supermodel gorgeous, Hollywood gorgeous. Ice princess, big-money, unattainable gorgeous. She'd always been sexy and delicious, even in her frumpy little business suits and hornrimmed glasses. She was adorable in her baggy fleece pyjamas, and she was heart-stopping when she was naked, with her hair rippling right down to her ass.
But he had never imagined her like this. The blue corset thing molded every curve, lifting up her pale breasts and offering them to the eye. Sex goddess and ice princess, rolled into one. Some wickedly expensive looking jewel was nestled between her perfect tits. Her hair was weirdly perfect, swept back in a complicated bun. She was a fairy-tale princess out of his comic book fantasies. She glowed like a star.
He hated it. It made his jaw clench and his dick harden. It made him want to wreck something, punch walls, hurl plates. He wanted to drag her into a corner and rip off her glittering veil of illusions. Remind her that she was his beautiful wild animal, not this remote, perfect being. She was earth and sweat and blood and bone, she was hunger and need and howling at the moon. Just like him. Part of him.
She rushed towards him, with a smile so sweet and welcoming that it made his gut cramp. All she was missing was the fairy wings and the fucking tiara and—he had to get a grip. Right. Now.
“Seth! I'm so glad you—”
“You didn't call.”
His tone stopped her cold. Her eyes went wide and uncertain. “I know. I'm sorry. It was an intense day. I can explain—”
“I just bet you can.”
She recoiled, the welcoming light gone from her eyes, and he hated that, too. People were sensing the tension between them. They were pausing in their conversations and looking over curiously.
Keep it together, Mackey, he told himself. Don't piss on the rug.
“Is something wrong?”
Victor Lazar's smooth, oily tone made Seth's hackles rise.
He choreographed the muscles in his face into a polite smile. “Not at all,” he said, from behind clenched teeth.
“I'm so glad you could make it. Tonight is a special night for us, Mr. Mackey. After seventeen years, I'm finally reunited with my beloved niece. The people who are important to her must celebrate with us.”
“Your niece, huh?” His voice was dangerously thick. He stared into Raine's eyes. They were naturally large and tilted. Accented with cosmetics, and wide with apprehension, they seemed enormous. “Your niece “ he repeated slowly. “That is just... incredible.”
Raine's mouth tightened. A blush raced across her translucent skin.
“Doesn't she look splendid?” Lazar's eyes rested upon her with a proprietary pride that made Seth want to spit. “I liked her better before.”
His voice came out flat and loud. Raine winced, visibly. Tough shit, he told her with his eyes. He was only flesh and blood. If she wanted to poke sharp sticks at him through the bars of his cage, she'd better expect him to snap and growl. “Lazar women tend to be unpredictable,” Lazar said coolly. “You'll get used to it, I expect. If you manage to hold her interest, that is.”
“Victor!” Raine's voice was shocked. Seth locked gazes with the smug, silver-eyed bastard. The red fog was coming over him, his blood was pounding in his ears, loud and heavy. He became aware that Raine was tugging desperately at his arm. “Seth, please,” she pleaded.
“Raine, why don't you take your guest to the bar and get him a nice, relaxing drink?” Victor suggested. “Dinner will be in a quarter of an hour. I'm afraid you missed the hors d’oeuvres, but the dinner itself will be just as excellent Mike Ling is cooking tonight, stolen from the Topaz Pavilion for the night. Pan Asian fusion. I hope you enjoy it”
Seth held out his arm to Raine. “Sounds delicious,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Come on, sweetheart Show me to the bar.”
She took his arm with the tips of her fingers, and they moved silently through the lavish room. He knew he should be paying attention, gathering data, but he was helpless, inert. All he could feel were the tips of her fingers, burning through the fabric of his jacket.
He got himself a beer, got her a glass of champagne, and steered her to a secluded corner by the window. They stared at each other, as if they were afraid of each other.
“You're furious,” she murmured, staring into the champagne.
“Yeah.” He took a swallow of beer. “You've been lying through your teeth ever since you met me. Lying makes me sick.”
“I did not lie to you.”
The cool, righteous tone in her voice jerked an ugly laugh out of him. “Yeah? Peter Marat? “
“That was the only thing that I withheld, and you can hardly blame me. Try to understand, Seth. I've only known you for four days, and I'm doing something that scares me to death—”
“To death, huh?” He picked up her pendant, and she flinched back when his fingertips lingered at the velvet heat of her cleavage. He held it to the light, admiring the flashing colors. “Very pretty,” he commented. “I bet putting this thing around your neck scared you right out of your mind. What did you do to earn it, sweetheart?”
She jerked the opal pendant out of his hands. “Don't be crude. It was my grandmother's.” She stepped back and wrapped the glo
ssy blue shawl across her chest “You're being ugly, and I hate it,” she said in a small, clear voice. “Please stop.”
“I can't.” It was the naked truth. “I'm for real, babe. What you see is what you get. Which is more than you can say for yourself, Raine Cameron Lazar.”
Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. She lifted bright, defiant eyes to him and drained the rest of her champagne in one long swallow. “We'll talk about this later” she said. “It's almost time for dinner. Can you manage not to make a scene in front of Victor’s guests?”
“What’s it worth to you?” he taunted.
Her lips went white. “Please, Seth.”
There was something haunted and pinched in her face, behind her radiant veil of glamour. It tugged at him, despite his anger. Made him feel like a bastard, kicking a puppy.
“Later,” he muttered.
“The others are going into the dining room. Shall we?”
He bowed and offered her his arm. “At your service.”
He sat down next to her at the table, a fake, tense smile on his face. He finally understood the value of social skills.
They were simple, pure technique to fall back on when you were about to lose it, but could not afford to. Like fighting.
You studied kicks, punches, parries and falls until they were second nature. Then when somebody tried to pound the shit out of you, self-defense was smooth and automatic. Social skills. Kicks and punches. Same damn thing.
Raine had no idea how she managed it. She smiled and spoke in Italian to Sergio, the museum curator on her left, about medieval art; she conversed with the distinguished older man across the table about his consuming interest in collecting historical weapons. She laughed and smiled and chattered social nonsense, all with a seething volcano sitting in the chair next to her. The food was exquisitely prepared, but she didn't remember eating or drinking, although she must have done so.
After the fruit, dessert and coffee, people began to wander into the main room where the showing of Victor's new acquisitions would take place. A buzz of anticipation was rising. Victor strolled over to them and tucked a wisp of hair back up into her coif. With every nerve raw, she clearly sensed Seth's rage roaring up like a flame at Victor's possessive, avuncular gesture, even though he made no overt sign of it.Victor's smile showed that he felt it too, and was amused by it.
“Perhaps you young folks would like to be left to yourselves. I plan to show you my entire collection tomorrow, Raine, so there's no need to bore Mr. Mackey with it. Give him a tour of the house, if you like.”
“A tour of the house sounds fine to me,” Seth cut in, his arm closing around her shoulders. “Great place you've got here. I'd love to see it.”
“Very well, then. Come down for drinks later on, if you care to.” He kissed Raine's cheek, gave Seth a nod, and walked into the hall.
Seth pulled her out the front door. She scurried to keep up with his long strides. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
“To my boat”
She pulled back and dug in her heels. “Your boat? I can't just leave, Seth. I have to—”
“My boat is the only sheltered place on this whole island where I can be reasonably certain that our conversation won't be overheard or recorded. If we don't scream at each other, that is. Which at this moment, I can't guarantee.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
It was even colder when they drew near the dark water that lapped against the dock. He helped her onto the boat, steadying her as she teetered on the fragile high heels. She stood in the door of the cabin and watched as he untied the boat and started up the motor.
He took them out into the dark water, twenty, thirty, fifty meters, and cut the motor. She scrambled out of his way as he entered the cabin. His heat began to warm the place the minute he followed her in.
He switched on the lantern that was bolted to the table and did something with a keyboard and monitor attached to fee cabin wall. He turned to her, folding his arms. “OK. We're out of range of any directional mikes Victor could point at us. Let’s hear it.”
She huddled inside her thin stole. “Hear what?”
“Why you broke your promise. Why you didn't tell me what you were doing today?”
She sank down onto the cushion of the bench, and twisted the crumpled blue taffeta of her skirt, organizing her thoughts. “I knew you would be working all morning,” she began slowly. “I didn't want you to worry. And overreact.”
“I see.” He waited.
She closed her eyes against his intense scrutiny, and allowed herself to feel the true depths of her exhaustion. “I wasn't ready to tell you, or any other person that I was Victor Lazar's niece,” she admitted. “I'm very glad you know now, though. Anyone who wants to can know now, since Victor knew all along. And I thought I was being so crafty.”
“Tell you what, babe. It didn't look so terrible, all decked out in the ball gown with Grandma's necklace on. Victor's pampered darling. You took to it pretty smooth, if you ask me.”
“I didn't plan that!” she protested. “He sent me out here to work, Seth! I got shanghaied by a gang of women who wrestled me down and dressed me like a doll! I didn't know what else to do, so I went with it!”
“Let's see how you turned out. Come on, open up the shawl and let me take a look.”
He yanked the stole open. It slipped to the floor, and he stopped her lunge to catch it, seizing her upper arms. She jerked away at the rough contact, but his grip was hard and fast. “I love what that dress does for your tits,” he said. “So did every other man in the room. Did you see them all staring, Raine? You must have. Did you like it?”
“Don't, Seth.” She touched his face, trying to get him to meet her eyes, but he was staring fixedly at her body. He grabbed the bottom of the tight bodice and yanked it down. The tops of her breasts spilled out over the neckline, her nipples taut and puckered from the cold.
She tried to slap his hands away. “Stop it, Seth! You have got to stop wrecking my clothes!”
No problem, princess. Uncle Victor will buy you another one.” Seth's hands slid hungrily up over the front of her bodice, cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingers.
“It's not like that” she protested.
“Oh no?” His hands slid down, cupping her bottom. “I like this skirt. I'd like to fuck you with all that shiny stuff rustling around you, and your nipples poking out of that corset. This dress was made for sex. Most dresses a guy just wants to rip off so he can get on with it, but this one, whoa. This one can stay on, no problem.”
She grabbed his wrists and tried to drag them off of her. “Stop it,” she hissed. “Don't you dare touch me when you're angry. I—”
“And check out the sparkler. The crowning touch.” He held the opal pendant up to the light. “Victor's princess was a good girl today, huh?”
“I told you, it belonged to my grandfather, and it was a—oh!”
He snapped the jeweled clasp and flung it behind him. It bounced off the wall with a ping and clattered to the floor. “Now if you'd get your hair down and wipe some of that paint off, I might even recognize you.”
That was it The outrage inside her coalesced. She launched herself at him with a shout of fury. Seth let out a surprised grunt as he fell back onto the bench. She landed on top of him. The boat rocked wildly. “Goddamn it, Seth,” she hissed. “You listen to me.”
He opened his mouth. She clapped her hand over it. “I stud listen!”
His eyes bored into hers for a moment. He gave a short nod.
She was so startled at his acquiescence that for a long, panting moment, she could think of nothing to say. She squeezed her eyes shut and searched for words. “You say you can feel what I really want, no matter what I might say to the contrary, you arrogant bastard. What I really want right now is for you to calm down and listen to me like a rational, civilized man. Not a lunatic with rocks in his head. Can you do that for me, Seth? I challenge you to do that for me.”
>
He stared up at her for a moment, and the smile lines around his eyes crinkled. He nodded, and his face changed beneath her hand.
He was smiling. She lifted her hand away.
“This position really does it for me,” he said softly.
She looked down. She was straddling him, resting against what had become a very prominent erection. He radiated heat even through all the layers of fabric. She scrambled to her feet.
“Don't even,” she snapped. “Forget it. I'm not finished!”
“Go right ahead. Tell me some more stories.” His eyes were still fixed on her breasts, which were still overflowing their bounds extravagantly. “The view's great from here, no matter what you say.”
“I was not lying to you, damn it!”
“Keep it down, babe.”
“Stop goading me, then! And don't call me that!” She rearranged her bodice until it more or less encompassed her breasts. “I never lied to you. The only thing I withheld was my father's real name, and—”
“Pretty goddamn important detail, if you ask me.”
“As I was saying,” she went on icily, “everything I told you is true, and a matter of public record. Check on my story all you want.”
Their eyes locked, and she stood there quietly for long, silent minutes and let him probe her with his burning gaze. She didn't allow herself to look away or flinch.
He seized a handful of her skirt and tugged her till she swayed towards him. “So where'd you go today, sweetheart?” His voice was soft and challenging. He pulled until she was standing between his legs, clasped her hips with his big, warm hands and waited for her answer.
She was cautiously encouraged by the gentle physical contact. “I went to see the doctor who signed my father's autopsy report” she told him. “She told me that there were two FBI agents investigating Victor at the time. She remembered one of their names. I tracked him down, too. My father was going to testify against Victor back in the summer of '85. He drowned before he had the chance.”
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