The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

“The offer still stands to come upstairs,” he said more than once. “The bed is way more comfortable. Trust me. I’ve fallen asleep on this couch countless times.”

  And fucked on it, I’m sure. Nala tried not to think about that. “Thanks. I’ll be fine here.”

  At least he didn’t try to kiss her goodnight.

  He did, however, go take a shower while Nala watched TV. Oh, sure, that was perfectly normal. Men took showers, after all, but did all men then come downstairs and scrounge around… wearing nothing but cotton pajama bottoms?

  Spare me. The moment Nala caught a glimpse of Vincent’s bare torso standing before the fridge was the moment she pulled the blanket over her head and attempted a journey into sleep.

  During that time of cautious tossing and turning on a leather couch, Vincent turned off the lights downstairs and went up, leaving one soft lamp on while he coughed and creaked on his own bed.

  The loft grew cold.

  Nala tried to ignore the strange feeling of sleeping on Vincent’s couch. She watched TV until it drove her insane. She played on the phone he bought her until she couldn’t think of a single Wikipedia article to check out next. You need to sleep. Crow’s party is tomorrow. Also, work. At least she had her priorities sorted out.

  Even so, Nala could not convince herself to sleep. The air around her was too stiff, too… devoid of life. At least in her closet, Nala could pretend she was in her safe home, snuggled deep into a cozy corner and unaware of the world around her. She was not claustrophobic in the slightest. If anything, people might say she was agoraphobic in the traditional sense. I don’t mind crowds, but this whole big open space thing is unsettling. She often felt that way living in Nevada. Big, sunny desert with no end in sight. What if something got her?

  Nala turned to the back of the couch and tried to snuggle there. All she could think about, however, was how this leather felt against her hands and feet as she straddled Vincent’s lap a few days ago… the way his body surged into hers, taking her, owning her.

  No matter how deeply she sank beneath the blanket, she kept thinking about him, about this huge loft with its exposed beams and the cold nature of the brick walls. Lots of people found this intellectually stimulating, but Nala wanted to run back to the craftsman house with its potheads and sink piled with dirty dishes. At least it felt human.

  There’s another human here, you know. Nala certainly knew that, but it was hard to reconcile her need to put barriers between her and Vincent and her need for companionship.

  “I’m ridiculous.” Nala sat up, tossing the blanket aside so she could swing her legs over the side of the couch. The pillow held fast between her fingers as she dragged it across the hardwood floors, her feet taking her to the spiral staircase and to a fate she never signed up for.

  “Hey there.” Vincent was sitting up in bed, lamp on and tablet displaying some important missive, Nala was sure. When she glanced at it as she climbed onto the other side of the bed and put the pillow back in its rightful place, she realized it was a novel. Even billionaires read before bed.

  “Hey.” Nala was glad he didn’t ask about her sudden appearance. Either that was his personality, or he knew her well enough by now to know to not say a damn thing. Thank God. Nala sighed as she lay in the comfortable bed and instantly felt cozier. It helped having a warm human by her side. Plus, the lofted bedroom brought her closer to the ceiling and some nearby walls. She already felt better.

  Within a few minutes, Vincent put his tablet on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. He got properly into bed, shaking it enough to wake Nala back up again. She stared into darkness. She felt and smelled the man she had given herself to enough times by now.

  Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

  She did it.

  “We’re not having sex,” she insisted, curling her arm around Vincent’s abdomen and resting her head against his chest. “I’m going to sleep, okay?”

  “Me too. I’m not in the mood for sex either.”

  Nala snorted against his skin. “Like you would say no if I went for your cock right now?”

  “I said I’m not in the mood. I said nothing about him.”

  “I’m pretty sure one influences the other.”

  His fingers brushed against her hairline, lulling her deeper into slumber. Fuck me. I’m falling for this. Maybe not for him… but definitely this. “You might be surprised.”

  “Good night, Vincent.”

  “Good night, Nala.”

  She pulled the blankets up until they nearly touched her nose. Between the heat of their bodies and the scent of his musky skin, Nala convinced herself that this might actually be a slice of heaven. After that, sleeping was easy.

  Entry #12

  Nala moved in with me yesterday. I had to force my hand, since the moment I saw her deplorable living conditions… what other choice did I have? I could not – would not – let someone live like that if I had the chance to change it.

  So now her things are in my house, and for the first time ever we shared a bed for a night. At first she insisted on sleeping on the couch, but within five minutes she was in my bed, in my arms, and feeling like she belonged there.

  It was also the night I gave her the collar I had made. At first, I had it made solely for The Aviary… but now that she’s living with me, I can’t help but wonder if there will be other chances to see it around her throat.

  I am more beast than man now. There will come some night soon where I will have to claim her once and for all. I’ll show her what it means to submit to me, the new Vincent. It scares me as much as it should liberate me. I don’t know what I’m capable of.

  Chapter 8

  Nala had never been up in the West Hills before. It was a lofty, natural place that she could never dare to afford, so why would she go there?

  Xavier Crow lived here when spending time in Portland. As far as Nala knew, it was his primary residence ever since he decided the area was where his newest ventures would take place. Get him a quick drive to the airport, and it’s weekly meetings in Seattle for this guy. Even though the sun had long set by the time they ascended the hills, Nala was still in awe over the lights illuminating large houses and even tiny, albeit adorable cottages.

  “He lives way up here, huh?” They drove for several minutes, with the houses becoming sparser and the trees denser. It was hard to believe they were still in Portland.

  “He’s one of the richest men on the coast. Of course he lives all the way out here, if he’s not living in a penthouse condo.”

  “Oh, well, excuse me.”

  “You’re excused.”

  Nala almost smacked his shoulder until she realized that this was Vincent’s dry humor striking again. The more she knew this man, the more she realized that his sense of humor was a bit… off. Oftentimes, Nala was more offended than amused. She supposed that happened when she was involved with one of the most aloof men around. Even for Portland, Vincent Lane was…

  “We’re almost there.” He pulled down a marked lane, slowing down as he looked around for any guards or other people hired to keep out the riff-raff. Do the crazies make their way up here? It would be quite the hike. Nala didn’t put it past them, though. “You ready?”

  Nala subconsciously touched the choker around her neck. Her collar. The moment I step in Crow’s mansion, I am Nightingale. I belong to Vincent and have to do whatever he says. Nightingale was also a master spy, and tonight would be the first real night of espionage.

  “Good. Did you review the layout earlier today?”

  “Of course.” Vincent had sent her the public domain plans to Xavier’s mansion. He had it on Lucian’s authority that most of Crow’s home parties were hosted on the second floor, east wing, which also happened to be where his main office was located. It was their hope that, as soon as the couples broke up for “playtime,” Nala would be able to sneak into the office. How would she get in? They still had yet to figure that out.

  “Good.” Vincent pulled into a roun
dabout and then switched gears as they went up a dirt road lined with Christmas lit trees. At the end of the road was a baroque mansion with all the trimmings. Gaudy as hell. Like Crow. His business buildings and residences are all super modern, and then there’s his personal home. No wonder he liked to watch spanking so much. “We’re here. Time to put Nala away, darling.”

  She was already changing her outlook. Nala pulled her long hair around her face, framing it and her breasts as they pushed out of a black bustier. She wore one of Vincent’s smaller dinner jackets to keep out the chill until they got inside. Otherwise, it was corsets and miniskirts… and big black boots. I’m feeling more and more like a Nightingale as time goes on. Excellent. She could get shit done that way.

  “Welcome sir, madam.” The butler from The Crow’s Nest came out to greet them the moment Vincent pulled up. “Parking is around the corner. Please meet us inside the foyer. Master Crow has asked everyone to gather there before heading upstairs.”

  After Vincent found a suitable parking spot, he helped Nala out of the car, leading her by the hand to the front marble steps. The butler waited at the double doors, already ushering in Joseph and Starling. When Vincent approached, the butler bowed again, showing them to the far side of the grand foyer.

  Nala felt like she was walking into a five-star hotel as opposed to someone’s home. Here came those open spaces again. How can people stand to live like this? She liked intimacy. She liked knowing where the walls were and that she could touch the ceiling if she had a ladder. Then again, Xavier Crow was all about showing off what he had.

  Four out of five couples were there, minus Crow. A conservatively dressed maid offered Vincent and Nala some champagne, which they accepted graciously. The others were already halfway to tipsy-town.

  “Just think, Lane, you could live like this sometime soon!” Lucian clapped his hand on Vincent’s shoulder, almost knocking the champagne glass out of his hand.

  “I’m fine with my loft for now. It’s more my style.”

  “I know what you mean! But, well, I’ve got a little woman who likes the finer things. You’re lucky. Yours seems like she’ll do whatever you desire. I know Robin loves her.”

  I’m right here, you know. Robin also wasn’t that far away, although she was deep in a flippant conversation with Quail about shoe sales.

  “If I may say,” Lucian continued, addressing Nala. “You are very beautiful tonight, Gale. A woman who can pull off a corset like that is one in a million.” He winked with the eye out of Vincent’s view. Nala took a small step back, clutching tight to Vincent’s arm. Okay then. Robin had mentioned something about Lucian thinking she was good looking enough to swing with. Not tonight, buddy.

  “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head in appreciation. Nightingale was a thankful woman. She loved receiving compliments, especially if it would elevate her Master’s status.

  Lucian wandered away after that, leaving Nala with Vincent. “This is already a crazy party,” she muttered into his bent head. “Try to keep that guy’s hands off me, if you would.”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice. Remember, you belong to me tonight.” His hand went to the small of her back. Nala sucked in her breath. This was a far cry from the guy who tenderly held and caressed her last night. Nala had woken up to Vincent curled protectively around her, cloudy sunlight streaming through the nearby window and lighting up his sleeping face. He had looked so peaceful, so easygoing that Nala had to fight the urge to kiss him awake.

  Now he was clutching her ass, reminding her that deep down this guy was a stone-cold Dom who liked to tie her up and call her dirty things. Good thing Nightingale was into it.

  The butler returned to the front doors to welcome Jay and Maggie. Nala steeled herself. This was her first time seeing Maggie since their encounter in the women’s restroom in a fancy restaurant. The one where she all but threatened poor, confused Nala. Did she threaten me? With a woman as tight-lipped as Maggie, it was difficult to tell.

  “How lovely to see you two so soon,” Maggie greeted, standing in front of Nala and sipping her champagne. Jay came up behind and put a light hand on her shoulder. It’s not the same as the other men. These two played at being a Dom/sub couple, but the more she got to know them, the more Nala realized something was incredibly amiss. They make me nervous. She wondered if she made them nervous too, and they were better at not showing it.

  “Lovely to see you too,” Vincent said, managing to sound amicable. “You look particularly lovely this evening, Maggie.”

  She batted her long eyelashes as her lips wrapped around the edge of her glass. “You’re such a gentleman, Master Lane. Almost as much of one as my Jay here.”

  Were all of these conversations going to be so boring and yet strange? Nala was almost grateful that Xavier Crow finally made his appearance at the top of the stairs to invite everyone up. Almost! Because he had a familiar guest with him.

  Hawk. Wearing a feathery mask and carrying a cat o’ nine tails at her hip. She too wore a corset, a leopard print one, paired with fishnet stockings that didn’t do much to cover her tanned legs. The way she looked at the gathering felt like a tiger overlooking a herd of gazelle.

  Everywhere Nala turned, there was someone setting out to make her feel uncomfortable. First it was Lucian’s subtle sexual advances, then it was Maggie’s veiled threats, and now Hawk was about to make her the most uncomfortable of all. Crow might be too busy to keep track of what his guests were doing or thinking… especially as he got drunker and his pants started filling out. Hawk? She had gained her name for a reason. She was watching them all like a bird of prey.

  Nala and Vincent brought up the rear going upstairs. Nala made sure to cling to Vincent’s arm, knowing he was the only man she could trust in this place. This place wasn’t anywhere close to being neutral. Every door was guarded by Crow’s men. Every window watched. Every woman? Leered at like meat.

  Nala was used to that last part. Even as they entered a spacious salon stocked with plenty of liquor and a small stage for “demonstrations.” I hope we’re not expected to perform tonight. Nala couldn’t handle being bound or spanked in Crow’s place of residence. It was bad enough that she and Vincent would have to go into a bedroom and pretend to have sex. Or really have sex. She was Nightingale. If Vincent decided the time had come…

  In the end, she wasn’t surprised when they were expected to sit and watch one of two demonstrations that night. The first was Quail and Sebastian, her subservience unparallel even for that group. Anything he told her to do, she did, including disrobing half his clothes – and then her own. Nala was getting used to this environment, but it still unnerved her to see such displays acted out right in front of her and other people. How can she do that comfortably in front of Crow? Nala could never. It was bad enough when Vincent tied her up for artistic purposes. To be degraded, verbally and physically? No way. Doesn’t help she looks like the happiest woman in the world. Nala appreciated the rougher forms of loving Vincent provided, but this was on a different plane of existence.

  The second show was not much easier to handle. Hawk was formally introduced as Crow’s “old friend,” a dominatrix who stopped by town every few weeks for business. What kind of business? Wait, Nala didn’t actually want to know.

  She was the guest demonstration that week, calling upon Starling to be her volunteer. Nala wondered if this was arranged beforehand, or if she had barely been not called up. I would have to find a way to avoid that. She would have to!

  Nala thought that over and over once the demonstration was under away. Why wasn’t she surprised that it was spanking? Not any type of spanking, either. This was purely about erotic pleasure, since Hawk and Starling did not know each other and thus had no other kind of relationship. It wasn’t like watching a Dom spank his long-time sub. No tenderness. No blooming love for one another. Even naïve Nala was learning the difference now.

  “Ow!” The sound echoed in the room in tandem with the smack on Starling’s
bare ass. Her face was more pain than pleasure. Even Joseph uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his easygoing smile disappearing in favor of concern. “I mean… thank you!”

  A large red splotch appeared on her skin. Nala shuddered, instinctively taking Vincent’s hand and thanking any god out there that this wasn’t her. I’d kill her. Hawk wouldn’t live long enough to bring down another spank on Nala’s ass. Worth going to jail over.

  “You have good resilience,” Hawk said with her grating voice. She patted Starling’s ass, eliciting a hiss through the teeth. “Your Master has done a fine job training you, sweetie, but there is always room for improvement. My subs are used to taking much harder spanks from me. Maybe one day you can join their ranks, hm?”

  Starling did an admirable job controlling her reaction. Although Nala could tell the young woman wanted to cry out, maybe say something testy to someone considered a Domme, she didn’t. Instead she expressed more gratitude, thanking Hawk for her kind words and kinder hand. The only “tell” she had was a quick nod to Joseph, keeping him in place on his couch even though he looked ripe to jump up and pluck his girlfriend off the stage.

  Yet as everyone assumed that part of the party was over, Hawk raised her paddle and brought it down – hard – on Starling’s other cheek. The girl screamed so loudly that Nala’s seat shook. She grabbed Vincent’s hand with both of hers and tried to hide her face in his shoulder. Even he wasn’t looking directly at the stage.

  “This isn’t eroticism,” Nala hissed in his ear. “This is abuse.”

  He squeezed her hand back. “I’m glad that isn’t you.” He then stood, excusing himself from the group so he could use the restroom down the hall.

  Joseph heaved an audible sigh of relief when Starling was finally released from the stage, walking like a bow-legged fool to her boyfriend’s arms and lying askance on the couch so she wouldn’t have to sit on her bruised ass. She somehow managed to not let any tears fall. Nala had half a mind to go up to the stage and ask Hawk what her fucking problem was, but was afraid of the repercussions.