48 Hours

by Callista Arman

  “2532 Porter Street. Apartment 3B.”

  She shoved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “How did you know that?”

  Patrick shrugged. “We computer geeks know everything.”

  Chapter Two

  Oh, God. She was really going to do this.

  It was Friday night and the butterfly wings that had fluttered in Maddie’s stomach most of the day had morphed into little men with hammers. She splayed her hand on her belly, willing it to settle. Everything was going to be fine.

  She’d dressed carefully, choosing a softer look than usual. Her hair was straight and loose about her shoulders. Her dress was powder pink with thin spaghetti straps. No bra, and only the skimpiest of panties. Strappy pink sandals with three-inch heels completed the look. She’d dabbed perfume on places she usually didn’t, and dusted her shoulders and neck with body glitter.

  Patrick arrived precisely at eight, wearing a button-down shirt, sports jacket and dark slacks. His breathing seemed a little labored, as if he’d climbed the three flights to her door instead of taking the elevator. He was the perfect wingman, she decided. Completely non-threatening. What else could he be, with all that curly red hair? And the freckles! He had so many they ran together in patches on his cheeks and forehead.

  But his eyes… She’d never noticed before, but now it struck her that Patrick’s eyes were his best feature. They were the deepest, most intense shade of blue she’d ever seen.

  He looked her over and an appreciative light appeared in them. “You look…” He swallowed. “You look great.”

  His approval pleased her more than she would’ve thought. She straightened her spine, thrusting out what little bustline she had. She could tell he noticed. Oddly, it made her feel good.

  His car was a small, fuel-efficient model. He held the passenger’s side door open, a gesture that seemed old-fashioned, yet flattering. They drove to Lakeside Heights in silence, Maddie fidgeting with the clasp on her purse.

  Patrick gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “No.” She turned and looked out the window so he wouldn’t figure out what a lie that was.

  They arrived all too quickly. From the look of the half-filled parking lot, Montevale’s was busy but not yet packed. Maddie stared at the building as Patrick maneuvered into an empty space. The building was a renovated historic townhouse with a stately stone façade. Would she find the man of her dreams inside? And if she did, would she have the courage to place herself in his hands?

  Her knees shook a little as Patrick guided her to the entrance. An attendant stood by to take a cover charge from the guests. Maddie squinted at the discreet sign that announced the price of entry, then shook off Patrick’s hand and opened her clutch purse.

  He reached over and snapped it closed. “I’ve got it.”

  The fee for two people had to be more than Patrick made in a day. “No,” she told him. “I’ll get it. It’s part of our contract.”

  “Forget it.” He produced a wad of cash in a money clip and peeled off four Ben Franklins. Whoa, Maddie thought, eyeing him curiously. She’d never pegged Patrick as a big money flasher. Still, he probably couldn’t afford it. She made a mental note to pay him back later.

  Patrick gave her a half-smile. “Ready?”

  He urged her forward, but her courage faltered. She took a step and wobbled on her too-high heels. Patrick’s hand closed on her upper arm. With a deft sureness that surprised her, he guided her across the threshold.

  The entry foyer was large and glossy, with a marble floor and mahogany walls. A fireplace with an intricate stone mantelpiece was flanked by highback chairs with brocade upholstery and clawed feet. The chandelier overhead dripped crystal. Through the carved archway on her left, Maddie caught a glimpse of a long gleaming bar with a stage and a small dance floor. A matching portal on the right led to a restaurant.

  They entered the bar area first. About half the tables were occupied, some by men who looked unattached. Maddie made eye contact with one of them, a handsome older man. He gave her raised eyebrows and an unmistakably interested smile. A thrill shot through her. Was he a Dom? She thought he might be. There was something about him. An aura of quiet confidence surrounded him.

  She felt his watchful eyes as she crossed the room. Patrick chose a table for two in a sheltered alcove. One of the chairs had an unimpeded view of both the entrance and the bar. Good. She’d be able to examine everyone without attracting notice.

  She was slightly annoyed when Patrick guided her to the chair facing the wall. “I want to be able to see,” she murmured, angling for the better seat.

  “That’s my job, remember?” With a subtle movement, he maneuvered her into the chair he’d chosen for her, then circled the table to take the place she’d wanted. Maddie opened her mouth to protest, but just then a waitress materialized at her elbow, asking for their drink order.

  Patrick looked over the wine list and ordered a bottle of imported Italian Chardonnay. Maddie knew the variety and producer. It didn’t come cheaply.

  “You don’t have to drink what I like,” she told Patrick once the waitress was gone. “Don’t you prefer beer?”

  The look he sent her was inscrutable. “I’m not a total heathen, you know.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I just meant—”

  The wine appeared. Patrick sipped slowly, his gaze roaming the room. Maddie watched his eyes, fighting the urge to turn around and survey the crowd behind her. She drank her first glass of wine quickly. Probably too quickly, but once it was finished, her tension eased. Gathering her confidence, she shifted in her seat until the older man she’d seen earlier appeared at the edge of her vision. His dark eyes regarded her intently.

  She felt a tingle between her legs. He looked very promising.

  Taking a deep breath, she leaned toward Patrick. “There’s a man on my left, three tables away. Charcoal gray suit. I want to meet him.”

  Patrick’s gaze flicked to her left and narrowed. He was silent for a long moment, then gave a small shake of his head. “No.”

  Maddie gave a disbelieving huff. “What do you mean, no?”

  “Just what I said. You don’t want him.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “No.”

  For a couple seconds, Maddie was too stunned to speak. Patrick was her employee! She was supposed to be calling the shots here. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but something about the way he was looking at her made her bite back her retort. Her protest came out as a question. “Why not?”

  Patrick studied the man again. “He’s too…” He gave a swift shake of his head. “I don’t know. I can just tell he wouldn’t be good for you. He looks…superficial. You know, like the kind of guy who likes eye candy hanging on his arm.”

  “Oh, and I’m not eye candy? Thanks a lot.”

  “I didn’t say that. It’s just—”

  “Look,” Maddie said, her irritation finally surfacing. “You’re working for me. I’m paying you, I call the shots. I want to meet that man. If you have a problem with that, too bad.”

  Patrick’s jaw clenched. “I can’t believe you’d sleep with that guy. He probably got in here with a senior citizen’s discount.”

  “So? I told you I wanted an older man.”

  “Yeah, but old enough to be your grandfather?”

  Maddie took a sip of wine. “He is not that old. Younger men are inept and immature. I want to date an experienced man. One who knows how to treat a woman.”

  Patrick muttered something under his breath. “All right, maybe I’ll introduce you to Gramps,” he conceded. “But let’s give it a little time. He could be waiting for someone.”

  Maddie glanced at the man again. He wasn’t old enough to be her grandfather, but he was at least fifty-five. But that was good. It meant he’d have experience. Especially if he was into D/s. A tingle ran down her spine. She caught the man’s eye and smiled. He nodded and lifted his wineglass in a toast.

 
; “He’s not waiting for anyone,” Maddie said in a smug whisper. “I know he’s not.”

  The man rose.

  “Shit,” Patrick said. “Turn around. He’s coming over here.”

  * * * * *

  Rafael Montevale stood in an alcove near the bar, watching the little drama play out before his eyes.

  The dark-haired woman in the pink dress was arguing with her red-headed companion. He couldn’t decide why. It was clear they weren’t lovers, but Rafael would bet his entire collection of ancient Roman statuary that the pair wasn’t on a first date. Nor did their body language or physical appearance imply they were siblings or cousins. He watched the bickering for a moment longer, aware of a squeezing sensation in his chest. The woman’s flashing eyes and obstinate expression reminded him so much of Mariella.

  He drew a steadying breath and waited while the pain of the memory peaked and subsided. A waitress approached with a question. After she retreated, he told himself he really should return to the restaurant. But his feet wouldn’t move. His attention kept drifting back to the couple in the alcove.

  Geoffrey Norton had joined them.

  Rafael stiffened. Cazzi! Norton was known for the harshness of his discipline and sexual tastes. Some women thrived under such a strong hand, of course, but others… Other women broke, both in spirit and in mind. Unfortunately, Norton didn’t trouble himself to learn which type of woman he’d snared—as a result, he’d drawn the law to his door more than once. Rafael held him in deepest contempt. Norton lacked the innate honor that was the mark of a true Dominant.

  Rafael would be damned if he let Norton choose the wrong woman from among the patrons of Montevale’s. The club’s reputation was impeccable—Rafael would not allow any taint of scandal to touch it. But honor was only one of the reasons Rafael stepped from the shadows and headed toward the dark-haired woman.

  Mariella’s memory was the other.

  * * * * *

  There was no way in hell Patrick was going to let Maddie go home with this gray-haired lecher.

  Geoffrey Norton had “dirty old man” written all over him. Patrick couldn’t believe Maddie, who sized up witnesses in the courtroom all the time, hadn’t caught on. Oh, Norton was suave and polite—and dressed in a thousand-dollar suit—but Patrick could see the slime oozing from his smile. He wanted to kick the guy back into whatever hole he’d crawled out of.

  “…when I bought Fardale’s,” Norton was saying. He’d grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and set it too close to Maddie’s.

  “The department store?” Maddie asked. “That’s fascinating.” She actually batted her eyelashes.

  Patrick stifled a snort. Maddie was playing the brainless bimbo. Is that what she thought she had to do to get a man? Hell, he could tell her there was at least one man who didn’t find bimbos alluring. Patrick liked a woman with a mind. He liked quick intelligence and sharp humor.

  Maddie had that. He loved watching her in the courtroom, making mincemeat of powerful men. Her strength and poise was what made his fantasies of dominating her all the more arousing. Who wanted to dominate a giggling, fawning doormat? His mind wandered into one of his Maddie fantasies. Her eyes flashed as she struggled with the chains he’d bound her with…

  “…dinner?” Norton intoned. “That is, if your…ah…” He gave Patrick a dismissive look. “Your…companion doesn’t mind giving you up.”

  Maddie smiled up at him. “Why, of course he doesn’t m—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Maddie and Norton both turned. Maddie’s look clearly telegraphed the words shut up.

  Norton’s expression was amused. “I beg your pardon?”

  Patrick cleared his throat. “I do mind giving Maddie up.”

  Maddie kicked him under the table—hard. “Don’t listen to Patrick, Geoff. He’s dear friend, but he’s such a kidder. I’d love to have—”

  Patrick saw red. “No. No way. Maddie, you—”

  “Excuse me, signori, signorina. Is there some trouble? Perhaps I can be of service.”

  Patrick blinked. The newcomer was a darkly handsome older man. His low, rich voice carried the trace of an Italian accent. Christ. Another vulture circling Maddie?

  “Rafael,” Norton said, his voice dripping with displeasure.

  The man smiled thinly. “Geoff.”

  Norton rose, never taking his eyes from the Italian. The two men stared at each other for a long moment, not speaking. Then, to Patrick’s surprise, Norton’s gaze lowered. He took a slight step away from Maddie.

  “Forgive me, my dear,” he said. “I’ve just remembered I have pressing business elsewhere.”

  What the hell? Patrick sat up in his seat.

  The man Norton had addressed as Rafael stood gazing at Maddie. He was tall, broad-chested and classically handsome, with just a hint of gray weaving through his dark hair. He wore a white linen evening jacket and black trousers. Lifting Maddie’s hand, he bowed over it in a gesture that was very old-world European.

  “Rafael Montevale,” he said. “The pleasure is mine.”

  Maddie’s eyes widened. “Maddie Brindisi.”

  “Patrick McIllhenny,” Patrick said sharply.

  Montevale’s eyes flicked toward him, then away.

  “Are you the owner of this club?” Patrick persisted.

  “I am.” Montevale didn’t spare him another glance. He was all eyes for Maddie. “I hope you are enjoying a relaxing evening…Maddie.” He shook his head, as if the name tasted strange on his tongue. “Forgive me, my dear, is your given name Madeline?”

  “Why, yes it is.”

  A flash of perfect white teeth accompanied his smile. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. You are new to my club?”

  “Yes. Yes, it’s our first time here.”

  Patrick frowned. Montevale grated on his nerves as much as Norton had, but for a completely different reason. Norton was a lecherous old fart. Montevale was just too goddamned perfect. The man fit Maddie’s specifications exactly. Tall, dark, handsome. Mature. But the years didn’t show on his body. He was lean and muscular, without an extra ounce of fat as far as Patrick could tell. And let’s not forget rich. If Montevale owned this club, his bank account had to be extremely healthy.

  The Italian looked down at Maddie, his expression a curious mixture of tenderness and lust. He hadn’t released her hand, Patrick noticed sourly. Maddie stared back at him, a slightly dazed, star-crossed look on her face.

  Shit.

  “My most sincere welcome to Montevale’s, signorina,” the bastard purred. “I truly hope your visit is most enjoyable.” He paused, then continued. “I wonder—would you care to dine with me this evening? The chef has prepared several special items tonight. I would love to hear your opinion on them.”

  “I’d love to,” Maddie said, smiling. She was on her feet and moving before Patrick had a chance to protest. She shot Patrick a look that clearly said “interfere and I will cut your balls off”.

  “And your friend…” Montevale said.

  “Has another appointment,” Maddie told him.

  “Excellent.” The man nodded once to Patrick, then turned away. Patrick watched him place a hand on the bare skin between Maddie’s shoulder blades and guide her toward the foyer. A few feet from the exit, a patron appeared in Montevale’s path. Montevale paused, greeting the man with a cordial smile.

  Patrick snared a passing waiter. The kid looked like he was still in college. “That man,” Patrick ground out. He jabbed a thumb at Montevale. “Is he really your boss?”

  “Mr. Montevale? Yes, sir. He owns the club.”

  Patrick slid a twenty from his pocket and pressed it into the waiter’s hand. “What kind of man is he? I mean, does he make a habit of hitting on his female patrons?”

  “Not usually, sir.”

  “But sometimes?”

  The waiter hesitated. Patrick slipped him another twenty. The kid took it, gave a subtle glance to the left and right, then leaned in c
lose. “Yeah. Sometimes he does.” A pause. “You know what this place is, right?”

  Patrick didn’t like the sound of that. “No. Why don’t you tell me?”

  The waiter looked confused. “But I thought you were one of them.”

  “One of who?”

  “One of the Doms.”

  No. No way. Patrick’s pulse kicked in double time. No way could this place be…

  “What do you mean?” he demanded.

  “A Dom. You know, a Dominant. As in BDSM.”

  Patrick could only stare.

  The kid gave an embarrassed laugh. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who’s come in here not realizing Montevale’s is a high class D/s pick-up joint. I only thought since you let your girlfriend go with Mr. Montevale, that…” He broke off.

  “That what?” Patrick asked sharply.

  “That you were lending her out. You know, like a sex slave.”

  Sex slave? Patrick’s cock jumped. His gaze snapped to Maddie, standing demurely at Montevale’s side while the Italian shook hands with the man he’d been talking to. She’d insisted they come here. Could she have known what the place was?

  “Friday nights are the most active for hook-ups,” the waiter continued. “I’ve heard it’s posted on some Internet sites. Dominants come in looking for new submissives. And subs come when they need a new Dom. Just about all the guys here tonight are Doms, but Montevale—he’s in a class by himself. The very top of the food chain. He doesn’t generally choose his women here—he’s got too many friends eager to share, I’ve heard. But occasionally I’ve seen him go after a customer. He always gets the woman he wants, too. Even if she’s already been claimed.”

  Patrick felt weak. “The other Doms don’t protest?”

  “Never. They might scowl behind his back, but it’s like the guy walks on water. No one tells Mr. Montevale no.”

  Montevale’s hand drifted low on Maddie’s back. Patrick watched the proprietary gesture with a twisting gut. Another couple inches and the Italian would be palming her ass.