by Mandy Lee
‘She’ll keep her job?’
‘Absolutely. All part of the deal. She’s getting a pay rise too. Me and Little Steve have done our time. We’ve got places to visit, things to do. We’re buying a camper van, doing a grand tour.’
‘God help Europe.’
Little Steve squeals with delight and slaps me on the back.
‘I’m so glad you’re painting again.’ He calms himself. ‘Now, go forth and network!’
The next hour flies by in a whirlwind of small talk as I slingshot my way from one group of people to another. Eventually, finding myself next to the staircase and silently cursing the killer heels for wrecking my feet, I decide that what I really need right now is a quiet sit down. Nobody seems to notice as I take the steps down to the basement in search of a friendly chair. It’s deserted tonight, the main lights switched off, the darkness broken by nothing more than a thin shaft of light falling from the open office door. I’m halfway across the room when a voice catches me from behind, causing my feet to stall.
‘Maya.’
I turn slowly, sensing a floodtide of fear in my veins. I already know who’s standing behind me in this dark basement. It’s been five long years since I last heard that voice, but I’ll never forget it. Deep, laced with an edge of the upper class and just the slightest trace of a Scottish lilt, the very sound of it throws me into automatic mode. Paralysed by shock and disbelief, I watch as the scene unfolds.
At first, I can’t see his face. His tall, stocky frame is silhouetted against the light from upstairs. But when he takes a few steps forwards, his features finally snap into focus and I flinch. While his grey eyes flick their way down my body, I stare at him, dumb-founded. At last, his mouth twists into something that’s clearly meant to be a smile. But the eyes remain hard, soulless.
‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’ he demands.
My mouth kicks into action.
‘What are you doing here, Ian?’
‘Long time no see. Don’t I get a kiss?’
He raises his wine glass to his lips and takes a swig. He’s already drunk. That much is obvious from the way he’s swaying from side to side. He stares at me lecherously.
‘No, you don’t get a fucking kiss. How did you find me?’
‘It wasn’t too hard.’
He stays exactly where he is, only inches away from me, glaring straight into my eyes, and I register everything: his short, black hair, his sharp, angular features. At first sight, any woman would find this man attractive. Everything about him is perfect, but underneath that flawless exterior, I know for a fact there’s no real emotion, just an overwhelming desire to possess.
‘Did you like your flowers?’ he demands.
‘What flowers?’
‘Your roses?’
I take in a sharp breath. I’m glad I’ve found you. So, I was right after all. It was him.
‘Tell me how you found me.’
‘Easy.’ He grins. ‘Some prick turned up at my door a few days ago. He wanted to buy your painting, the one you did of the coast near my house. Remember? The one you exhibited in your graduation year. The one I bought. The one that brought us together.’
‘We were never together,’ I snarl.
‘Oh yes, we were.’ He licks his lips. ‘I fucked you, Maya. A lot. I think that’s classed as a relationship.’
Well, perhaps it is. But it was one that I chose to end when I realised he could be violent. A hand reaches out and grabs me by the arm. Adrenalin fires through my body.
‘You ran away from me, Maya. I tried to find you, but you went to ground. I let it all go for a while there. But then fate played into my hands, and I met the wonderful Mr Foster.’
‘Dan?’
‘I let him have the painting, but I insisted on sending it to him, insisted I needed a few more days with it before I let go. He gave me his address, and Bob’s your uncle.’ He sniggers now. ‘He’s a swanky bastard, isn’t he? Swanky, big flat on The Thames, swanky cars, swanky suits …’
‘You’ve stalked him?’
‘I’ve been down here for a couple of days. I had a look. Had to see what the competition’s like.’
‘There is no competition.’
‘I’ve got just as much money as him, if that’s what you’re after.’
‘It’s not what I’m after. And he earns his money. He actually works for a living, not like you.’
‘Ooh, harsh. I can’t help being a poor little rich kid.’
‘No, and you can’t help being a bastard either. I don’t want anything more to do with you.’
‘Come on, now. What we had was incredible.’
‘What we had was shit.’
‘I want you back.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
He drops his glass to the floor. It explodes, smashing on impact, splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. My body jolts. My brain discharges an order to run. I’m about to move when a pair of hands lock themselves onto my shoulders, pushing me back against a wall.
‘Get off me!’ I scream.
‘I want you back and I’ll have you back.’
‘I was never yours in the first place.’
He lurches forwards, pressing his mouth against mine and I struggle, turning my head to one side. He grabs hold of my hair, forcing my head back into place. I try to lift my leg, to knee him where it hurts, but he has me pinned flat against the wall. I open my mouth but I’m silenced immediately with a hand.
‘No screaming, baby.’
One minute he’s all over me, and the next he’s gone. I straighten up, gasping for breath, watching in amazement as he’s slammed against the wall. Even before my eyes have fully focused on the scene, I know who’s joined us in the gloom. It’s Dan who’s just pulled Ian Boyd away from me, Dan who’s currently punching and kicking the life out of him.
‘No!’ I cry out. ‘Stop! You’ll kill him!’
‘That’s the fucking plan!’
‘No!’
Ignoring my cries, he carries on, ramming his fists into Boyd’s stomach, occasionally landing a blow against his jaw. I’m about to launch myself into the fray when I’m pushed to one side.
‘Enough, Dan!’ Clive shouts. Clamping his arms around Dan’s waist, he pulls him away. ‘Calm down, for fuck’s sake! Lucy’s about to call the police.’
‘Let her!’
He struggles for a moment or two before he gives up, glancing at me, and then back at the man who’s currently slumped against the wall.
‘You?’ he breathes in disbelief. ‘Ian Boyd.’
‘The one and only.’ Boyd straightens himself up, wipes his bloody nose against the cuff of his suit and stares at Dan. ‘So, did Mr Swanky Pants get his painting?’
Narrowing his eyes, Dan turns to me. ‘How do you know this piece of shit?’
‘He’s the reason …’ I hear my voice falter. ‘He’s the reason I left Edinburgh.’
I hardly know what happens next. Out of nowhere, I’m consumed by a perfect storm of emotion: everything I’ve ever locked away from view, everything I’ve ever refused to acknowledge, about Boyd, about Dan, everything hits me at once. While the floodgates finally open and I begin to sob, my body seems to crumple under the impact. My head fills with darkness, my legs give way beneath me … and I begin to fall.
***
When I come to, I find myself in the passenger seat of a Mercedes-Benz.
‘Boyd,’ I mutter. ‘Where’s Boyd?’ Sitting up straight and glancing out of the window, I discover that we’re skirting the edge of Trafalgar Square. At least I think we are. My head is a fuzz of confusion.
‘Gone. Clive threw him out. Are you okay?’
I turn to face Dan, and even though I should probably hate him right now, I’m surprised to sense that familiar twinge of desire between my thighs.
‘I’m fine.’
I shake myself further into consciousness. I can barely believe what’s going on here. If I’m not very much mistaken, the car
has just swung onto Whitehall and I’m being driven back to his apartment.
‘You passed out, Maya.’
‘I said I’m fine.’
He glances at me.
‘So, what’s the deal with Boyd?’
I sense a prickle of annoyance. I’ve spent the last few years of my life trying to blot the bastard out of my mind. The last thing I need right now is to drag him back out of the shadows.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘You don’t have any choice. I need to know.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I need to make sure that you’re safe.’
I hear myself laugh at that.
‘And why would it bother you whether I’m safe or not?’
‘Because you’re the woman in my life.’
And that does it. Irritation springs into action. If Daniel Foster thinks he can simply turn up out of the blue and sweep me back into his life without some heavy duty explanation, then he’s got a nasty surprise in store.
‘Come off it, Dan. How can I be the woman in your life? You’ve just blanked me for the best part of a week.’
‘There were reasons for that.’
‘And I need to know them.’
‘Not right now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because right now, you need to tell me about Boyd.’
‘I don’t need to tell you anything.’ Downing Street flashes past us on the right. ‘And I don’t want to go back to your place.’
‘Yes, you do. Now tell me about Boyd.’
Anger flares for a split second.
‘Fuck you.’
I turn to the window, watching as Whitehall gives way to the Thames. At the south side of the bridge, we circle the roundabout. Almost immediately, Lambeth House veers up in front of us. He waits in silence as the garage doors open before edging the car forwards into the dark. At last, the Mercedes draws to a halt. He gets out, slamming the door, and within seconds the passenger door is opened. When a hand appears in front of my face, I ignore it.
‘We can do this the easy way,’ he sighs. ‘Or I can drag you out of that seat, kicking and screaming. Your choice.’
Glaring up at him, I decide to go for the easy option. I push myself out of the car, straighten up and begin to move forwards, slowly. I’ve barely taken three steps when I feel a hand at the bottom of my spine. I fizzle at the contact. Jesus, I’ve missed it. And shit, there’s no way I’m ever going to be able to resist. I know that much. As we ride the lift, the hand stays firmly in place and while I stare resolutely at the floor, I know his eyes are fixed on me. By the time we step inside his apartment, I’m a quivering wreck. If I’m ever going to get an explanation out of this man, then I need to break the contact. Pulling away from him, I make my way over to the window where I stand with my arms folded, staring out over the Thames. Before long, I’m aware that he’s standing by my side.
‘I thought we were over,’ I murmur.
‘Whatever you thought, you can just forget it.’ He touches a finger against the pendant. ‘You’re still wearing this.’
‘No running,’ I whisper. He doesn’t say a word, leaving me with no option but to push on. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I needed some time to think.’
‘You could have sent me a text.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You said you’d never hurt me again. You hurt me this week.’
‘I said I’m sorry.’
‘And that’s not good enough. Everything was fine until you met Sara. You need to tell me exactly why you hate her so much. And while you’re at it, you can tell me why this was a bad idea.’
‘And you can tell me about Boyd.’
‘If you’re not going to talk, then I’m out of here.’
He’s on me in an instant, knocking the wind straight out of my lungs and the sense out of my brain. While one hand moves around my back, pinning both of my arms in place, the other is clutching at my hair, holding me tight while he brings his face up close to mine.
‘Don’t even think about it, Maya. You don’t get to make the rules tonight.’
‘Piss off, Mr Foster.’
The grip tightens.
‘You’re the one who’s going to talk.’
‘Not fucking likely.’
‘Boyd,’ he growls.
‘Sara,’ I growl back.
His lips land on mine, kissing me with a violent passion, his tongue probing its way around my mouth, sliding against mine, thoroughly marking its territory. And I give in immediately. I kiss him right back. I have no idea how long it goes on for. When his mouth eventually releases mine, his hands are removed for a split second before I’m grabbed by the wrist and guided towards the stairs.
‘What are you doing now?’ I protest.
‘Patience.’ He practically hauls me up the steps, two at a time. ‘You’ll find out.’
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m expecting to be dragged straight into the bedroom, but instead he takes me across the landing. Pushing open the first door on the right, he flicks on a light and urges me forwards. I stagger to a halt, confused by what I see. At first, I wonder why he’s brought me into his gym, but on closer inspection I realise that this isn’t a gym at all. The room is windowless, the floor carpeted. And apart from a set of built-in wardrobes that stretch along the length of one wall, there’s nothing else I can call furniture, just some sort of elaborate vaulting horse to the left, and directly in front of me, fixed to the opposite wall, a large wooden cross that’s been set at an angle and fitted with manacles.
‘It’s a St Andrews cross,’ he says quietly from behind me. ‘Standard fare in the world of kink. And that,’ he motions towards the second contraption, ‘is a spanking bench.’
‘Spanking?’
‘You wanted to try it.’
‘Yes, but when did you …’
‘I ordered them on Monday. They arrived yesterday.’
‘Priceless.’
So, all the time, while I was agonising over whether or not we were finished, he was busy planning the next stage of our so-called relationship.
‘We’ll be using the bench tonight. Why don’t you go and take a look?’
Fighting the urge to run, I manage to take a few jittering steps forwards and reach out, touching the wide, padded rest at the centre of the bench. To either side of it, I notice two further rests, narrower this time, and still padded: the lower one evidently for my knees and the higher one for my arms. Both sets of side rests are fitted with cuffs, clearly for my ankles and wrists. And everything is covered with a rich, red leather. I stare at it, open-mouthed, waiting for my brain to form a sentence.
‘You’re going to torture me?’
He laughs. ‘Absolutely not.’
I swing round to find him standing behind me with his arms crossed, looking as cool, calm and collected as you like. Every last bit of me begins to tremble … and it’s not with fear.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will later.’
‘And what if I say no?’
‘You’re not going to.’
‘You can’t spank me into talking.’
‘Oh yes I can.’ He unleashes a smile. ‘And it won’t be the pain that makes you talk.’ Boring into me with his blue eyes, he takes a good, long pause before he issues the first order. ‘Turn around.’
I swallow hard, clenching my fists, willing my brain to locate the single shred of sense that would put an end to all of this right now. I should really insist on going back downstairs and talking things through. But I don’t. Instead, overwhelmed by lust and curiosity and the absolute need to prove him wrong, I simply obey.
‘This is a seriously sexy dress.’ He peels the material upwards and over my head. ‘It gave me a full-on stonker as soon as I saw it.’
‘Nice. I’m pretty sure the knight in shining armour isn’t supposed to rescue the damsel in distress with a massive erection.’
‘He
always does it with a massive erection, Maya. You just can’t see it underneath all that chain mail.’
I smile to myself as he removes my bra, leaving my knickers and stockings in place. His right hand curls around me, slowly brushing its way across my skin, up to my left breast where his thumb and forefinger close around my nipple and begin to pull.
‘Now,’ he breathes into my ear. ‘Let’s get down to business, shall we?’
Snaking his left hand round to my stomach, he wastes no time. Thrusting his fingers into my knickers, he begins to massage my clit, rubbing firmly against the most sensitive spot, causing me to close my eyes and throw back my head at the sudden rush of pleasure. And before I know it, I’m groaning for England. He buries his face into my neck, kissing me, licking me, nipping at my flesh. I’m almost there when his right arm tightens around me and he squeezes my nipple, causing a flash of pain to sear its way through my chest. I cry out in shock as I’m tipped over the edge into an orgasm, twitching and convulsing in his arms.
‘Ready to talk?’ he demands, taking his hand out of my knickers and clamping his arm around my waist.
‘Not likely,’ I gasp.
‘Then it’s time to get you strapped in.’
Still holding me, he begins to move towards the bench.
‘Do you need the toilet?’
I shake my head.
‘Be sure about that, Maya. I’ll be keeping you here for quite a while.’
‘I’m fine.’
But I’m not. My heartbeat has gone wild. I’m in a total panic. I can’t believe I’m doing this. At last, he releases me from his grip and I know what I have to do next. Climbing up onto the bench and shivering at the touch of leather against my skin, I adjust my breasts, making sure that I’m completely comfortable. By the time I’ve settled myself into position, he’s taken off his shirt, his shoes and his socks. He’s wearing nothing else now but a pair of black jeans, and my God, he looks fucking gorgeous. I watch in awe as he turns down the lights, leaving the room bathed in a soft, low glow. Pacing over to the wardrobe, he slides open a door, pulling out something that looks like a cat o’ nine tails. Finally, he approaches me, dropping the mysterious item to the floor.
