The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

  “Hey, girl, let’s go!” The car door opened and enticed Nala to come inside. “I know all the best shops downtown. Mr. Lane gave me his credit card for safe keeping. You’re so lucky! Ten thousand spending limit!”

  “Ten… thousand?” Nala had barely shut the car door behind her and buckled her seatbelt when she heard the news. In the front seat sat a dapper man with white gloves and a black, flat-topped hat. The moment Robin told him to head downtown, the car pulled away from the pot-reeking craftsman house.

  “What? Does he usually give you less?”

  “Well…”

  “Hm.” Robin crossed her slender, waxed legs. I need to shave mine. She started shortly before going to The Crow’s Nest the first time, and she still wasn’t used to it yet. It was a miracle Vincent never mentioned her stubble. Oh, right, guys don’t actually notice that shit. Yet here Nala was, staring at a woman’s smooth legs. “No matter. We’ll get you squared away. He said that you have a big business dinner tomorrow night and you needed a new outfit. He also mentioned getting other similar outfits and some… well, you already know.”

  Nala caught a hint of blush on Robin’s face. “No. What? He hasn’t told me anything other than something about a dinner.”

  “Oh?” Robin’s lips were especially pretty when she formed that round letter. “He said you wanted to go to that lingerie boutique. You know, the one.”

  “No, I don’t.’

  “Um… okay.”

  What are you doing? Don’t blow your cover, girl. “I don’t go shopping much.” Nala forced a smile intended to save her current relationship. “And I only moved here a few months ago. So I’m afraid I don’t know much about what’s available, shopping wise.”

  “That explains a lot,” Robin muttered, studying Nala’s clothes again. “You’re always done-up so pretty – albeit simply – for the club. I figured it’s what your Master liked best, but now I see you really are plain-styled. Not that it’s a bad thing!” She held up her long, manicured nails in defense. “It really suits common styles around here. At least you’re not lumberjack-chic, though. There’s only so much I can do with that.” Robin grinned. “I have a degree in fashion consultation and cosmetology, you know.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Yup. That’s how I met Lucian.” Robin tossed her hair behind her shoulders as they approached a bridge into downtown. “His daughter is thinking about going into cosmetology and stopped by my school a long while ago. He came to pick her up while I was stepping out… the rest is history. Guess I’m really his type to make him stop and look.”

  “He has a daughter?”

  “Yes. Eighteen, from his ex-girlfriend.”

  “He doesn’t look old enough to be a father of a teen…”

  “To be fair, the mother was close to the same age…”

  “I see.” Teenage Lucian knocking up his equally teen girlfriend of the time didn’t seem too farfetched. “Do you get along well with her?”

  Robin shrugged. “Well enough. She lives with her mother in Colorado, so I don’t see her much. I don’t really feel like a stepmother, which is fine with me. I’d rather be like a big sister.”

  All right, that’s weird.

  “Do you have kids? Or does Vincent have kids?”

  Nala pursed her lips. “I don’t have kids. We don’t have kids,” she corrected herself. I don’t think he has children. Did he want them? Did Desirée want them, and were they planning to have kids by thirty-five? They could afford it. Not many, like Nala, could say that. He’s a loose cannon downstairs, though. Coming and going in whatever pussy he pleased. Some men got off on that thrill, though.

  “You two haven’t been together that long, have you?”

  “What gave that away?”

  “You’re both a bit reserved, even around each other. Plus the way you both talk about the other, as if you’re talking about a distant roommate instead of someone you’ve been with for a long time. Not that it’s bad. It’s rather obvious that you’re still getting used to each other.”

  “I suppose it hasn’t been that long in the realm of the world.”

  It was about a month since they met, Nala falling down the stairs of The Crow’s Nest and Vincent grabbing her in time. Everything changed after that. The Aviary. The bondage. The sex. Nala always knew she liked it a little rough, a little dangerous – and Vincent offered both. Underneath that cool exterior lurked a beast waiting to take her to new heights. Nala still didn’t know how to process it.

  “So! First, I’m going to take you to my friend who is a personal stylist. She has an office downtown and I’ve already called ahead. Since I don’t know you that well, Gale, I thought it best to get a professional opinion instead of going by intuition alone. You game?”

  “Couldn’t be more game.” It sounded like torture, but Nala couldn’t be picky right now. If she had to choose, then going to a personal stylist and shopper was probably better than going by Robin’s tastes alone. I could not pull off her look. Vincent would laugh before refusing to let Nala get in his car.

  They pulled into a parking garage in the middle of downtown, the driver letting out both Robin and Nala before the former took the latter by the arm. Like a couple of perfect – albeit polar opposite – besties, they walked into a nearby building and took an elevator up a few floors. When they stepped into a stylish, pristine office covered in gilded mirrors and marble tiles, Nala instantly noticed Vincent’s office building across the street. For some reason, nerves claimed her stomach.

  “Georgina!” Robin exchanged kisses on the cheek with a woman emerging from a back office. Lacquered nails, tight stockings, stiletto heels, and a body full of Gucci took in Nala without a second look. “This is my friend Nigh… Gale. This is Gale.” She sent an apologetic look. We still don’t know each other’s real names. That was more than fine, but it did create a few awkward situations. Like this woman looking at Nala and clearly thinking that she didn’t look like a damn “Gale” at all.

  “What can I do for you, Gale?” Georgina’s voice was buttery, reminding Nala of the fresh biscuits her mother used to pull out on rainy Sundays.

  “She needs a new formal wardrobe,” Robin interrupted. “She’s got a big business dinner with the likes of Vincent Lane tomorrow.” She pulled out his credit card. “Mr. Lane will be taking care of all associated costs.”

  “Ah.” Georgina snatched the card without a second thought. “This is good. Any instructions?” She still looked at Nala, but it was clear that her ear was open to Robin, the woman running this show – and running the cards coming in Georgina’s direction.

  Robin produced a small, handwritten list of items she probably jotted while on the phone with Vincent. What were they saying about me? Did he really call this woman up to discuss my fashion sense? Vincent’s new business relationship with Lucian must have been really good for the girls to be going out for shopping and new hair.

  “He has asked for darker colors, particularly for the formal wear. Black, blues, some deep purples and reds. He’s also made a point to ask for her hair to be cut no shorter than two inches, to account for any split ends.”

  Nala picked up a clump of her hair and looked at the ends. Were they split? She had no damn idea. Most of these terms were like Greek to her.

  “I can work with this.” Georgina tentatively extended her hand and fingered Nala’s hair before looking over her current clothes. I bet she can tell how cheap they are… Not ideal in the least, but hey, Nala was here to spend Vincent’s money, apparently. “Yes. I know where to start. Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes while I arrange things here with my assistant.”

  Nala had never been on a shopping spree of this caliber before, and she wasn’t sure she could ever survive another one.

  Boutiques, department stores, and even private collections from Portland designers sped by in the remainder of the afternoon. Nala’s tired legs carried her from one location to the next, where Georgina and Robin discussed what colors an
d cuts were best for her skin and frame. They agreed that Vincent had good tastes in colors. The black, dark blues, and crimsons were the biggest hits, with a few white pieces a respectable distance behind.

  They dressed her in body-hugging dresses, loose and tight bodices, and skirts that flared out above her knees. Many gowns and skirts had to be tailored to her height – a first in Nala’s short life. My mother used to hem some of my clothes, but nothing was tailored. When she thought about it, all of Vincent’s clothing must have been tailored to fit so well on his body. Why am I thinking about him? Oh, because she was spending his money? Every time that black credit card passed to a girl behind a register, Nala wondered if it was really okay.

  Wondering that made her feel okay about being treated like a doll. They could dress her however they wanted. Every time they called her Gale, Nala was reminded that she was the Nightingale, who would be more than happy to accommodate her Master’s wishes. Whatever he wanted. Whatever he desired. As long as it was comfortable enough to put up with for an evening at a time… well, what did Nala care? Her opinion was rarely asked. Even dithering between two colors of the same outfit mostly came down to Georgina and not Nala. The only time she expressed her mood was when she was asked her favorite color.

  “Dark blue. Paired with silver.”

  “Very regal,” Georgina said. “I can see it. With this hairstyle… you can look like a queen.”

  That made Nala smile in the mirror.

  The last thing they did with Georgina that day was go to a salon. The hairstylist washed and conditioned Nala’s hair, taking the time to carefully pick it before evening the ends and getting rid of the splits. When Georgina asked what was so important about keeping the style the same, Robin replied, “You know how I am with Lucian? That is how Gale is like with her fiancé.”

  Stop calling him my fiancé. Nala tried to not let it get to her. That was Desirée. She shouldn’t care, and yet… I’m the one who is alive, not her.

  The stylist created a new, simple makeup pallet that Nala could maintain on her own. Lots of smoky eyes. Dark lipstick colors. Red rouge. They went over this while she had the first manicure of her life.

  In the end, nine bags from nine different locations were accumulated. Robin’s driver carried a bulk of these from the shops to the car. I’ve never owned so many nice clothes. Where was she going to put them?

  They thanked Georgina for her help, Robin giving her Vincent’s contact information so they could go over her commission. Nala received a kiss on the cheek from this woman who was still a relative stranger. When she finally left, Nala assumed that it was time to go home – although she hoped Vincent’s credit card could buy her dinner as well.

  Nope. Robin had one more place she wanted to check out. That boutique Vincent claimed Nala really wanted to visit. For lingerie.

  It was a small place off the main streets, but after being in so many other fancy places that day, Nala could tell that this boutique tailored to a certain clientele as well. Rich people. Rich skinny people. She wasn’t skinny, but she could probably fit depending on the hormonal fluctuations.

  “Georgina knows a lot of things about style and fashion, but I’m the best when it comes to figuring this stuff out.” Robin touched a black bustier displayed on a headless mannequin. “I know what men like ours like on their ladies. Of course, we want to get you some things that make you feel confident as well!”

  Nala stared in awe at the racks of panties, bras, garters… anything that could be used to underline her new dresses or draw Vincent into bed. Do I really need help with that? She was already fending off his advances… advances she so dearly wanted to give in to. “I’m not used to this sort of thing. I’m not sure what you would even call most of these things.”

  Dresses and skirts were one affair. She was willing to be dressed up, paraded, and even admired in someone else’s tastes. Lingerie? That was so intimate that she almost began to shake in her new boots. Do I get what I like, or what he would like? Normally Nala wouldn’t wonder such a thing. It was her body, her style, right? Except Vincent was paying for this, and she would only wear them when she was playing Nightingale in their undercover play. And Nightingale… would pick things that made her feel sexy while her Master undressed her.

  “If you’re not used to wearing this sort of stuff, I could see how it’s intimidating. Don’t worry. We’ll get you fitted for a bra and go from there. What size do you think you are? I’ll find someone to help us.”

  Nala stared at a rack of pink, frilly bras in various sizes, from super tiny to super big. “I dunno. 32B?”

  “Oh, honey, you’re bigger than that!”

  “I doubt it.” She looked down at her breasts, hiding beneath her blouse. “I mean, it’s okay that they’re small. It doesn’t bother me.” She couldn’t comment on Robin’s, er, tig-ass bitties.

  “It’s not really about whether or not you feel good about the size of your breasts.” Robin flagged down the nearest helper and motioned, quite evocatively, at Nala’s chest. “It’s about wearing a bra that feels damn good and gives you the support you need! Most women are wearing a bra that’s too small for them.”

  “About that…”

  When Nala, Robin, and the helper ended up in a changing area, Robin slapped her hand over her eyes to discover her dear new friend was completely commando beneath her blouse. The helper barely blinked as she pulled out her tape and instructed Nala to get into position.

  “Girl, you ain’t got a bra on!”

  “Because these things are not that big.” Nala shrugged. She was in the presence of women who didn’t wish to leer at her breasts. No big deal… or so she thought. The helper tugged on the loose tape and wrote something down on a pad. Robin peeked through two fingers and shook her head in awe.

  “I could never get away with that. Even when I try not wearing a bra, my boobs are too big to feel comfortable. I even sleep in one… how do you manage?”

  “It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Well,” the helper interrupted. “Let’s start you at a 34C. I think you’ll find it’s comfortable.”

  “That’s cool.”

  Nala supposed her breasts could have grown since she was last measured at a lingerie shop years ago. After all, she had been seventeen then. Now she was twenty-one and with a more womanly body. When the helper brought a plain black sampler to try on, Nala shrugged into it, surprised to find it fit. The helper pulled on the snaps and announced they may want to try a 32 next after all.

  “I don’t really like wearing bras…” Nala said.

  “Gale, honey…” Robin put a kind hand on her friend’s shoulder before sidling close and whispering into her ear. “This isn’t your run-of-the-mill lingerie shop. I mean, you could wear some of these things on the daily, but it’s more about… you know…” She faked a cough. “Being sexy. For your confidence, and to put your Master’s Mr. Happy in a fun place. You know. For your benefit. Ahem.”

  Did she say Master’s Mr. Happy? Robin was a fucking trip. Nala would have to be caught dead with psychedelics strewn around her corpse to be caught saying something dumb like that. “I see. Thanks for the perspective.” Good to know Vincent sent her here to get sexy undies for him. Sure, he’d tell her they were for The Aviary, but she knew his real motive. He wants to see me in lingerie like this. Lace. Silk. Satin. Rioting colors and soft pastels. Panties with holes in them and bras that came apart in the front.

  Nala was ready to leave. Nightingale, however, was deeply intrigued.

  I wonder how hard I could get a man like that. It could be a game. Get Vincent aroused, make him endure a striptease with underwear like this as a treat… and then see if she could get him to come without even touching him.

  Nala hurried to get her blouse back on and rushed into the gallery, where racks upon racks of lingerie awaited. Robin hustled to keep up, and the helper followed as well, asking if she could get Nala started with anything.

  Yes. I need five bras, ten pairs of
panties, and whatever these corset things are. I need to be on fire. A man is paying me to dress up like the classiest hooker he’s ever had the pleasure of purchasing the services of, and I intend to deliver for my sugar daddy!

  Robin attempted to help Nala shop for lingerie, but someone was a tornado of grabbing, trying on, rejecting or accepting, and furiously asking a million questions about style, color, and materials. Would this make her itch? Would this shrink in the wash? How should she wash this stuff, anyway? If the panties were thirty a piece, did that mean she could ask for more on the sexy black market? Girl had to think long term past Vincent’s weekly payments.

  “Hey, guess what,” she texted Vincent while waiting for her purchases to be rang up.

  “What?”

  “You bought me fifty pairs of underwear.”

  The fact it took him so long to reply – when they were in an elevator with Robin on the phone and asking her driver to meet them up front – made Nala wonder if he were this busy after five or having a moment to himself in the bathroom. Latter one, please. Robin talked about lingerie giving her confidence, but Nala was pretty sure mentioning underwear to a man and getting him to take it to the corner was better. Or at least for someone like her it was.

  “I couldn’t have you tramping around in used panties, now could I?”

  Nala was surprised he remembered that. “I don’t have room for this stuff at my place. Can I dump most of it at yours?”

  “I’ll be home at six. Anytime after that is fine.”

  What was Nala supposed to do until then? It was barely after five.

  As if Robin read her mind, she said in the elevator, “Let’s get dinner. Lucian won’t be home until late, anyway. We haven’t had time for a real chat anyway.”

  “Sure. You pick.” Nala plucked the black card out of Robin’s hand. “I’ll take this over for now. I’m sure my Master won’t mind.” Besides, she could give it back to him later.