Taking her arm, Ren guided her to a piece resting on an easel in the corner of the room. It was of a very handsome man with black hair and attractive blue eyes in a gray suit. He had his arms around a scantily-clad blonde with a leering grin on his lips. Ren was in the middle of telling Melinda the story behind his only male model, Declan Corinth, when Nathan came up to them.
“Having fun?” He glared at Ren’s hand on Melinda’s arm.
Melinda was mindful of the anger in his eyes. “Ren has been showing me his paintings. I think I’ve found some interesting pieces to add to your collection.”
Nathan walked up to her and placed his arm around her waist, pushing Ren to the side.
“Melinda has a remarkable eye for art, Nathan,” Ren informed him.
“She has a good eye for many things, Ren.”
Ren chuckled, shaking his head. “I know she’s yours, Nathan. Not to worry.”
Nathan turned to Melinda. “Why don’t you show me the paintings you like?”
Melinda lowered her eyes. “Yes, Nathan.”
Hurriedly, Nathan escorted Melinda from the double parlor as Ren stayed behind. From his tight grip around her waist, she had a sneaking suspicion the meeting with Denise had not gone according to plan.
“Is everything okay?” she mumbled as they made their way down the hallway.
“With all that special ability you can’t sense what’s going on? What kind of psychic are you, Melinda?”
“Nathan, please.”
“We’ll talk in the car,” he grumbled.
They stopped at a reception table just inside the entrance. Nathan smiled at an older woman seated there.
“We’ve got a few pieces from the collection we would like to purchase.”
“I’d be happy to take care of that for you, Mr. Cole.” The older lady gave a wispy smile. “Please, fill out this card.” She handed Nathan a green card and a pen. “We’ll contact you after the show so you can pick up your purchase.”
He turned from the table and shoved the card and pen at Melinda. “Fill this out with the paintings you want.”
“Are you sure about this?”
He placed his mouth against her ear. “I’ve got to buy something to keep Denise happy. Just write down anything so we can get the hell out of here.”
Melinda carried her program and the green card to a corner of the reception table. She hastily scribbled the two titles of the works Ren had shown her in the solarium.
As they were leaving, Nathan handed the green card to the older woman behind the table. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
Once out of the stately home, they were practically racing to his Jaguar when she yanked on his arm, stopping him.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
Nathan ran his hand across his forehead, appearing pale. “She’s having second thoughts. She wants to renegotiate some of the terms and limit my control of the final development.”
“But I thought everything was fine.”
He pressed the keyless remote, unlocking his car. “So did I. I think someone got to her.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He reached for the passenger side door. “I have enemies, Melinda. People in this town who are jealous of my success and would like to see me fail.”
“Like Sal Cuccina?”
He opened the door for her. “Among others.”
“Is there anything you can do to change her mind?”
He waved to the interior of the car. “No. I’ve got to wait this out and see what happens.”
As Melinda dissected the rage in his face, a cascade of violent thoughts swirled in her head. She saw men being choked and Denise Becnel cowering in fear.
Hoping to quiet his wrath, she placed her hand on his forearm. “It will be fine, Nathan.”
His eyes desperately searched hers. “Is that what you see? Do you have visions about the outcome?”
She didn’t have the strength to tell him her words were meant as reassurance and not insight into the future. “Denise will come to her senses and agree to your terms,” she stated, adding to her lie.
His sour mood lifted. “That makes me very happy.” He paused and slowly smiled. “I do have one other question for you.”
“Anything, Nathan.”
“What did you and Ren talk about?”
Melinda kept her cool as she moved toward the car. “Art. He used to sell paintings on Jackson Square.”
“Did you know him then?”
She climbed into the front seat. “No, but he knew about me.”
“He did?” He placed his hand on the roof of his car and leaned inside. “Are you sure you don’t remember him? Perhaps you two were friendly once. You seemed real damn friendly tonight.”
The air grew thick with tension, but Melinda said nothing to alleviate it. Nathan’s glaring gaze probed her face and then he stood back from the car.
“If that’s the way you want it, Melinda, don’t tell me.” He slammed the passenger door shut.
Melinda winced as the thwack echoed throughout the car. She waited for him to come around to the driver’s side door, mulling over ways to soothe him. But after he took his seat in the car, he avoided looking at her.
As they drove down Prytania Street, Melinda noted the way his hands tightly gripped the steering wheel and a restless feeling settled over her. Melinda suspected she was about to see another side of Nathan Cole. Something the private man rarely showed to anyone … his anger.
* * *
Melinda opened the door to her apartment as Nathan hovered behind her. He had said nothing to her on the drive back from the showing and simply nodded to the security guard on duty at the desk. But as soon as he shut her apartment door, he became very talkative.
“Did you like flirting with Ren Plancharde tonight?” he roared as he marched into her kitchen.
With a muffled groan, Melinda tossed her black-beaded clutch to the sofa. “I wasn’t flirting, I was talking. There’s a difference, Nathan. You left me with him … which, by the way, you said you wouldn’t do. What did you expect me to do with the man? Use sign language?”
Nathan rummaged through her cabinets until he found the bottle of vodka he had brought for her a few days before. He collected two old-fashioned glasses and returned to the sofa.
“He had his hands all over you.” Smacking the glasses down on her glass coffee table, he had a seat on the sofa.
“Hand, singular, not hands, and he was being nice.”
He opened the bottle of vodka and poured a portion into each of the glasses. “I hate women who flirt with every man they meet. Julie used to do that. Drove me crazy.”
Melinda sat down next to him. “I don’t flirt with men.” She took the bottle from him. “Nathan, I’m not Julie.”
He picked up a glass of vodka. “I never said you were.”
She placed the bottle on the table. “Then why are you acting this way?”
He peered into his drink. “When I saw you with him, I suddenly thought, why is she with me?”
“I ask myself that all the time when I look at you. I watch you talking to really interesting people and I wonder, why does he want to be with me? I’m a nobody.”
He sat back on the sofa. “You don’t think you’re interesting?”
“Not at all. I’m a piano player from rural Mississippi with a degree in music, no career, and a small amount of experience in the real world. How on earth could I be interesting?”
“You can see the future, that makes you exceedingly interesting … to me.” Nathan took a long swallow of vodka.
“Is that all you see in me, that I’m psychic?”
He shook his head. “You’re beautiful and sexy and trustworthy. You’re not the kind of woman who will ever turn on me.”
She snickered. “Five minutes ago you thought I liked that artist, Ren.”
“I was jealous when I saw you with him.” He set his glass down. “I don’t like seeing my women with ot
her men.”
“Your women? So I’m not the first woman you’ve had a jealous rant over.”
He sighed and sagged against the sofa. “No.”
“Care to tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Are you still angry?”
He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m getting over it.”
Melinda patted his thigh and then stood from the sofa. “Good boy.”
She retreated to her bedroom, anxious to remove her stifling dress and high-heeled shoes.
Melinda was putting her dress away in the closet when Nathan walked in her bedroom doorway. She saw the way his eyes lingered on her bra and panties, causing her to grab her robe from the bed.
“Did you think he was handsome?”
“Who?” she questioned while tying off the belt on her blue terrycloth robe.
“Ren Plancharde.”
She shrugged. “Not my type.”
Nathan came toward the bed. “Why wasn’t he your type?”
“Not enough experience.”
That made Nathan laugh and he sat down on her bed. “Take off that robe.”
Her insides recoiled. “Nathan, it’s late and I’m—”
“Do as I say,” he cut in. “Take it off.”
Melinda nodded her head and tossed the robe to the bed. She stood before him, waiting for instructions. With Nathan, foreplay was all about giving orders.
“Take it all off. The bra and panties, too.”
“Yes … Sir.” Melinda removed the bra first and then stepped out of her underwear, dropping them by her feet.
He sat back on the bed, going over every inch of her with his eyes. Several agonizing seconds ticked by before he nodded to her.
“Undress me.”
Melinda kept her annoyed smirk hidden from him as she eased his jacket from around his shoulders. While she removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, Nathan’s eyes never wavered from hers. After placing the clothes to the side of the bed, she encouraged him to stand.
“No, do it on the bed,” he directed.
Stifling an impatient sigh, Melinda climbed up on the iron bed, unzipped his trousers, and then struggled to get him out of them. After finally getting him naked, she knelt next to him.
Nathan clamped his mouth hungrily over her left nipple. His teeth teased her and Melinda hugged his broad shoulders, feeling her ardor come alive. When he flipped her on the bed, relief swept through her. Dragging her fingertips over his washboard abs, she cupped his hard cock. She figured he would be too preoccupied to talk about Ren Plancharde anymore.
“I have a surprise for you,” he softly said.
Melinda suspiciously observed him. “What?”
He sat up and reached for his jacket on the bed. He pulled something shiny from his inside pocket. When he returned to Melinda’s side, he hid his hands from her.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
Expecting another piece of jewelry, Melinda did as he requested. Seconds later, something cold clamped around her wrists, and then she heard the click of metal. Her eyes opened just in time to see Nathan letting go of the silver handcuffs he had secured on her wrists.
Nathan’s deep brown eyes simmered with delight. “Time to play.”
The bitter taste of fear filled Melinda’s mouth. She was about to ask him what he had in mind when he jerked her to her feet.
“You asked me once why I was interested in pre-Civil War history. The truth is I was always drawn to the stories of plantation owners and how they treated their slaves.” He dragged her to the foot of the bed. Stretching up, he slid the chain portion of the cuffs over one of the decorative curls running along the top of the iron canopy bed. “I’m going to show you what was particularly popular in the South in that era. The whipping post.”
She fought against the handcuffs. “Nathan, no!”
“Not to worry, darling. I had this bed designed especially to be able to support your weight. I knew I would need it for more than fucking.” He came up behind her. She could feel his erection pressing into her butt. “I’m not going to hurt you, Melinda. I’m just going to teach you a lesson.”
With her arms stretched above her head, she was perched on her tiptoes, almost dangling from the side of the heavy bed. Petrified of what he would do next, she careened her head around to see him striding into the bathroom.
When he reappeared, he was carrying her wooden hairbrush in his hand. “There is an art to spanking, Melinda. Something I have perfected over the years. It’s all dependent on placement. You have to find the perfect spot.”
Nathan stood behind her. The back of the wooden brush caressed right along the seat of her ass. “It adds to the pain and pleasure you can bring to the experience.”
A loud whap resounded in the room, and then the slow sting on her right butt cheek made her arch against her restraints.
“See,” he cooed. “At first, it stings.”
Another whack rang out. Melinda shook all over from the impact. He had hit the very same spot as the first time, compounding the sting and making it turn into a throbbing burn.
“That hurts just a little more, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t like this game, Sir,” she pleaded, her voice trembling.
He massaged the tender spot on her butt, soothing the pain. “This isn’t a game, baby. It’s a punishment. Next time, you won’t go flirting with all the handsome men at a party. You will only speak to me.” He slapped her left butt cheek with the back of the wooden brush. “And you will never look at another man again.” Nathan hit the very same spot, propelling Melinda forward.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” She sniffled. “I won’t do it again.”
“No you won’t.” He kissed her back. “Spread your legs.”
Her eyes flew open and her heart galloped. She stood very still, not sure of what to do. He smacked her behind again, right across the seat. Melinda cried out.
“Open your legs.”
A single tear trickled down her cheek as she splayed her legs apart for him. Keeping her balance was impossible in that position, and she was about to fall forward when Nathan grasped her hips.
His fingers went to her folds and dipped into her. “You’re wet.” He chuckled. “So you do like this.” He nuzzled her back.
“No, I don’t like being spanked, Sir.”
“Still feisty. I’ll break you of that soon enough.” He tugged her hips higher, and Melinda felt her backside resting against his hard cock.
“What if I spank you like this?”
He gently slapped her clit and Melinda bucked, not with pain, but with an overwhelming rush of lust.
Nathan chuckled. “See? Sometimes being spanked can be very pleasurable.” He bit into her back as he stroked her clit. “Do you want more?”
Melinda was dangling from the handcuffs; her fingers were going numb but the rest of her was throbbing with longing. Did she want to continue? Did she want to submit to more of Nathan Cole’s twisted games, or was it time to walk away?
“More, Sir,” she heard her voice imploring.
He slapped her clit a little harder, and this time Melinda cried out. The burst of heat from her groin was powerful, and she could feel her wetness dripping down her inner thigh.
Nathan’s rumble of laughter sickened her, but she didn’t care. She just needed to feel the pleasure he created.
“One day soon, you’re going to surrender to me completely.” His thumb tracked her wetness between her butt cheeks. “Then I’m going to take this very tight ass of yours.”
Melinda defiantly arched her head back to him. “Never … Sir.”
He smacked his hand against her clit and Melinda screamed. “I think it’s time to teach you another lesson.”
Chapter 17
Two weeks later, Melinda was to meet Ellie for lunch at the Palace Café on Canal Street. As she waited outside of the restaurant, Melinda gazed at her reflection and was stunned by what she saw. The forlorn woman with
the upswept red hair in the window looked nothing like the happy girl she had been. Her cream-colored silk blouse, taupe designer pants, and expensive leather purse were a far cry from the jeans, T-shirts, and backpack she had once considered hip.
Her newest gift from Nathan, a fourteen-inch, sparkling emerald and diamond tennis necklace, twinkled in the sunshine. She twisted her fingers around the bauble and remembered how Nathan had surprised her with it the previous weekend. Her hand trembled as it brushed against the black cord collar above the necklace.
“Hey, there you are,” a woman’s deep voice called.
Melinda spotted Ellie waving at her from a few feet away. Wearing a pretty yellow cotton dress, Ellie’s pink hair was demurely pulled back in a ponytail and she had opted to forgo her usual shocking pink lipstick for a more somber shade of red.
Melinda hurried to Ellie’s side and threw her arms about her.
“Melinda!” Ellie’s voice boomed as she stepped away. “What has happened to you? You’re so thin and pale. What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
Melinda put on a brave smile. “No, I’m fine.”
Ellie scrutinized her clothes. “Maybe it’s the outfit.”
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Kind of dowdy, wouldn’t you say? Not sexy at all. Did you get this?”
“No, Nathan picked it out.”
“Nathan?” Ellie nodded to Melinda’s diamond and emerald necklace. “Nathan pick out that, too?”
Melinda covered the necklace with her hand. “It was a gift.”
“And that black rope? Not exactly Tiffany’s, is it?”
“It’s important to Nathan that I wear it. It represents our commitment to each other.”
“Commitment?” Ellie rested her hand on her hip, seeming baffled. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”
Melinda shrugged while avoiding Ellie’s scolding gaze.
Sighing, Ellie viewed the restaurant entrance. “We’d better go inside and get a drink. I have a strange feeling we’re both gonna need it.”
Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series Page 20
