SmokeandMirrors

by Natasha Moore

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  “Since when did we ever do things the easy way?”

  She chuckled softly. “True.” She was silent for a moment and then sighed. “I’m so mixed up, Alex. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  He didn’t want to have this discussion now. He wanted to be able to see her. Read her expressions. And let her read his.

  “Here,” he said. He picked up her legs and swung her around so that her feet were in his lap. “Lie down for a while. Relax.”

  She must have been tired, because she did as he suggested without an argument and stretched out on the seat beside him. The music didn’t need to be so loud anymore, so he lowered the volume. He began to massage her feet as he’d often done for her after a performance when hours in stiletto heels had made them ache.

  He should have thought it through a little more before he came charging in to kidnap the Winslow heiress, but the old man had pissed him off. Alex had never considered that Gabriella wouldn’t have known he was the one who sent the note and the limo. When she obediently allowed Foster to blindfold and cuff her, he was certain she knew she was coming to him. Who else had she played those games with?

  Or did she have another man who wrapped her with ropes or covered her eyes with a black silk scarf? Someone else who teased her into a frenzy and tempted her with his touch? He didn’t want to think about it.

  He never imagined she wouldn’t want to see him again. That she wouldn’t still want him.

  Perhaps there was no forgiveness for what he’d done. This could all blow up in his face. Had he just made a bigger mistake than the one he made ten years ago?

  * * * * *

  Alex’s fingers felt like heaven on Gaby’s feet. She sighed and settled into the soft leather seat. She wished she could see more of him in the dim interior. She could tell his wavy chestnut hair nearly skimmed his shoulders. The last time she’d seen him on a television special, it had been much shorter. His dark eyes were hidden in shadows, but she could feel his gaze burning into her. “You always gave the best foot rubs.”

  “Your poor feet. They used to cramp up so badly.”

  “I didn’t mind.” She’d loved being onstage with Alex. Loved putting on a show for the audience. Loved everyone’s eyes on her. She’d forgotten that feeling of power. Forgotten how alive she’d felt.

  “You liked limping offstage every night? You used to cry, they hurt so much.”

  She did? “Well, I’m not crying now. Stop trying to fight with me. I said you made them feel good.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Your hands are magic,” she murmured, then laughed a little sadly. “Magic. Yeah. Well, if you ever want to give up the magician gig, you could make a fortune as a masseuse.”

  He worked on the ball of her foot and she moaned in ecstasy. This was almost as good as sex. “I don’t want to rub anyone else’s body.”

  “What do you want, Alexander?”

  His fingers stilled for a moment, then he began to stroke the arch of her foot again. “I want to spend the weekend with you.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” In fact, she shouldn’t. She should demand that he turn the limo around right now and head back to L.A. But deep inside, she longed to go away with him. It had always been that way with Alex.

  “Then what do you want, Gabriella?”

  So they were throwing their words back at each other. But as she opened her mouth to fling a sharp retort, the words stuck in her throat. What did she want? Did she want to go back to her lonely house? Go back to her parents’ smothering attention? Go back to Aaron?

  No. After tonight, she could never go back to Aaron.

  Tonight, for the first time in years, she felt alive again. She and Alex had no future together. She could never trust him again. But he wasn’t asking for more than a weekend. He owed her that.

  Cocooned in the back of the limo, it almost felt as if this was a dream. The two of them alone, in the darkness, in the middle of nowhere. There was no past. No future. Just him. Just her. Just now.

  She didn’t often let herself think about her time with Alex, but now the memories came flooding back. Her heart thudded as she remembered the seductive illusions he’d devised around her as his assistant. Ropes and scarves and handcuffs and cages. They practiced each one for hours, perfecting the illusion while the sexual tension built and the anticipation rose, until they finally fell together, fucking like wild animals.

  Kind of like they did a few minutes ago.

  Sex had never been their problem.

  * * * * *

  Alex absently rubbed Gabriella’s tiny feet and pondered his next move. He’d always prided himself on his ability to seduce the audience. But this was Gabriella. And he wasn’t sure how to proceed. This might be his only chance.

  If he made the wrong move, she’d slip through his fingers like an illusion gone terribly wrong.

  He was sorry he’d scared her tonight, but his body hardened again as he pictured the panic that had overtaken her earlier, the way her body had strained against her bonds. Her chest had heaved as she twisted and turned, her breasts nearly spilling out of that tiny excuse for a dress. And when her skirt had ridden up her shapely thighs, giving him a peek at her lacy panties, he’d almost come in his trousers right then.

  Those had been his favorite illusions. The ones where Gabriella would be bound and perhaps blindfolded or gagged as well. And then she would struggle for the appropriate amount of time before they’d play out the rest of the illusion. Most men attended the performances just to see Gabriella struggle. Oh, they’d never admit it out loud, but Alex knew it was true. A few more months and they would have hit it big, he was certain of that. They’d been a dynamite combination.

  And he’d been just as certain his career would take a nosedive without her. But Gabriella had taught him his trademark seductive moves during their time together. The sexually stimulating moves onstage that drew the women in. That still drew them in. And they brought their spouses or boyfriends. More and more each year.

  And now he was about to open his own theater in Las Vegas. He was going to stop traveling and settle down. At least, that had been his plan.

  Gabriella stirred beside him. “Remember curling up like this in the van?” she asked sleepily.

  Alex’s fingers froze and he dropped her foot into his lap. “The van?” Rusty and noisy and leaking oil like a sieve. Alex stared at Gabriella. Was that actually a smile on her face?

  She nodded. “I’d wrap up in a blanket and stretch out in the back just like this and you’d rub my feet. It was like we were the only two people in the world. Remember?”

  “I remember.” Bitterness churned in his stomach. He’d like to forget they’d ever been so poor that they’d sometimes had to sleep in his old beat-up van. Like to forget there was a time he hadn’t even been able to bring in enough money to pay for a burger and fries. He’d vowed a long time ago that he’d never be in a situation like that again.

  “It felt like this. Warm and cozy.” Her voice was so soft now he could barely hear it. She was nearly asleep. “And when I breathed in the air, it smelled like you.”

  “No,” he whispered after a moment, when her breathing had become slow and regular. “It smelled like you.”

  He feasted his eyes on her as they hit the city and the lights of Las Vegas lifted the shadows in the limousine. He’d never tire of looking at her, the pouting lips, the turned-up nose. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes resting on soft pale cheeks.

  She still took his breath away.

  He’d lost his control too often with Gabriella. This time had to be different. He had to stick with the plan. Foster pulled the limousine into its parking spot and turned off the engine. Alex took a deep breath.

  Time for Alexander Black’s greatest illusion.

  * * * * *

  Gaby awoke to masculine fingers stroking her face. Disoriented for a moment, she leaned into the c
aress, rubbing her cheek against the palm of the hand. When she opened her eyes, she saw Alex looking down on her. She was curled up on the long limo seat. They were no longer moving.

  “We’re here,” Alex said softly. He took her hand and helped her out of the limo. Was he taller than she remembered? He seemed so in his black shirt and black trousers.

  She stepped out onto the cold floor of the parking garage, reminding her that her feet were bare. That woke her up. “My shoes are still in the car.”

  Without warning, Alex swept her up into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and held on. “Foster. Find Ms. Winslow’s shoes and bring them up, please.” He didn’t wait for Foster’s reply but strode to a nearby bank of elevators.

  She wiggled in his arms after the elevator door slid closed. “You can set me down now.” The elevator car moved smoothly and silently.

  “I like you in my arms.”

  “Alex…”

  “I like you in my arms,” he repeated, his voice firm. The elevator barely bumped as it stopped. He stepped out and stopped in front of an ornate wooden door.

  Gaby began to struggle in earnest. “You’re not going to carry me over the damn threshold. Put me down!”

  He didn’t say anything but frowned as he set her down. Then he unlocked the door and opened it wide, gesturing for her to go in.

  Gaby didn’t know what she expected when she stepped into Alex’s apartment, but the large space and lavish fabrics made her feel as if she was stepping onto a stage.

  Drapes of deep red and gold hung from ceiling to floor along the far wall. A conversation area directly in front of her held a sofa and two chairs upholstered in gold brocade, with pillows that matched the drapery fabric. A bar and eating area took up the other end of the space.

  She felt Alex’s gaze upon her as she wandered silently around the room, noting the richly colored paintings sharing wall space with giant posters advertising great magicians. Her nipples beaded for no real reason except she was with Alex, in his apartment, and she could smell his scent, even from across the room, and she wanted him to touch her again.

  Her heart skipped a little faster when she saw a basket of colorful scarves sitting beside the overstuffed sofa. Before she even thought about it, she reached down and drew a dark green scarf from the pile.

  “Nice place you have here,” she said, trying to keep her voice light as she turned to look at Alex. His dark eyes bore into her and the heat from his gaze burned her to the core. He looked at the scarf too and a slow smile spread across his face. Tingles ran through her pussy as she thought about what he could do with that scarf. She knew he was thinking the same thing. She slid the silk fabric through her fingers. Would he wind them around her wrists? Bind her with the soft, strong fabric? Cover her eyes? She swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. “My favorite color.”

  “I know.” He covered the distance between them with a few long-legged strides. At first she thought he was going to take her into his arms, but he disappointed her by stopping an arm’s length away. They both breathed heavily, as they stared at each other. She could almost see the sparks in the air between them. “Gabriella—”

  “Here are Ms. Winslow’s shoes,” Foster called out as he came through the door. He joined them with a few quick, short steps. Could he not feel the tension in the air, nearly thick enough to slice through? If he did, he didn’t react to it. He handed the shoes to Gaby.

  She glanced at Foster quickly and flashed him a smile. “Thank you.” She took the shoes and clutched them to her chest, as if they could protect her from the fierce arousal she felt from simply being near Alex.

  Ha. There was nothing simple about it. It was as if she were under his spell. In the back of her mind, she knew he’d abandoned her. He’d never even tried to contact her again until today. She should be furious that he thought they could pick up where they left off as if nothing had happened.

  But heaven help her, she wanted to do just that. Wanted to be wrapped in his arms, his ropes, his scarves. She wasn’t ready to return to reality. To the monotony of her life.

  “Foster, please pour Ms. Winslow a glass of chardonnay.” Alex let his gaze roam over her from head to toe and she swore she felt his perusal as if he’d caressed her with his fingers. “Please excuse me, Gabriella. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  She watched him leave the room and disappear, tall and straight and elegant, down a long hallway. Ten years had changed Alex too. He was no longer the eager young man ready to set the world on fire if it would just give him a break. There was an intensity to him now that she’d only glimpsed before. Who was he now?

  What did he have in mind for this weekend? A trip down memory lane? A reconciliation? A night of meaningless sex and a kiss goodbye?

  She was still staring down the empty hallway when Foster cleared his throat. He stood beside her and offered her a glass of wine. She dropped her shoes to the floor and took a deep breath. There was no point in worrying about it now. “Thank you.” She sipped the crisp liquid. “Very nice. Won’t you join me?”

  He smiled and his eyes lit up. “Thank you, Ms. Winslow.”

  As he poured himself a glass of wine, she asked, “How long have you been working for Alex?”

  Foster looked up from his task. “Almost ten years.”

  “Really?” So Alex got rid of her and hired Foster?

  “I’m an actor. Well, I used to be, but as the years went on, the jobs were fewer and harder to come by.” He crossed the room to stand beside her. “The play I’d been in had just closed and I didn’t have another lined up. Here came this brash young man to the theater, determined to be the world’s next great magician. He made it sound a lot more interesting than another bit part in another play, so I signed on.” He shook his head and looked over her shoulder, as if he was remembering. “The world’s next great magician. He had me believing he could do it.”

  “He made me believe it too,” she said softly. She stared at the wine in her glass for a moment, remembering. Then she looked up at Foster. “He was right, wasn’t he? Or is this all an illusion?”

  Foster caught her eye and held it for a moment. Then he looked toward the hallway and took a long drink of his wine. “He’s been right about a lot of things. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t made mistakes.”

  “We’ve all made mistakes.” As Gaby followed Foster’s gaze to the hallway, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was making one now.

  * * * * *

  Alex strode into the small office on the far side of his bedroom. He closed the door before he picked up the telephone and dialed the private number he’d memorized.

  Without preamble, he said, “Have you talked to your daughter tonight, Mr. Winslow?”

  The old man roared in his ear. “You bastard! What have you done with her?”

  “You know I don’t want to do anything to hurt Gabriella.” Guilt twisted in Alex’s stomach because he knew he’d already hurt her.

  “If you lay a hand on her…”

  Alex chuckled darkly. He’d laid more than his hands on her, but the old man didn’t need to know that. He didn’t say anything else, just let Winslow stew. Let him imagine.

  “What do you want?” Winslow said finally, his voice strained.

  “You know what I want. We’ve already discussed this.”

  “This has always been about money, hasn’t it?”

  Alex pictured the man with his big belly and opulent office. “Believe what you like.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  Alex let the silence drag out, until he heard Winslow draw in a deep breath. “You’d hurt Gabriella just to get back at me?”

  Sometimes you hurt people whether you wanted to or not. “I’ll call you tomorrow night, Mr. Winslow. Think carefully.” Alex hung up, the darkness suddenly closing in on him.

  He stood up, eager to be with Gabriella again. She’d brought light and life to a poor, ambitious young man, He wanted to pull her into his arms and soak up he
r goodness again.

  If all went well, she’d never know she was his prisoner.

  Chapter Four

  Gaby smiled as Foster went on about some fiasco that occurred during his professional acting debut. She could relate to pre-performance jitters, but she was glad she’d never fallen flat on her face on center stage in front of a packed house. She had a feeling he was exaggerating, chattering away to cover up the fact that Alex had abandoned her again, even if it had only been for a few minutes.

  An elegant pendant light hung from the high ceiling like a spotlight. She started to sit down on the sofa but froze halfway down when cool air brushed the flesh between her legs. Her panties! They must still be on the floor of the limo. Shit. She lowered her ass carefully to the cushion, keeping her knees together and tugging on the skirt that threatened to ride up her thighs.

  “Do…um, do you ever miss the stage?” Gaby asked, trying not to let her discomfort show. Making small talk was the last thing she felt like doing. Where was Alex? Butterflies swooped in her stomach like they used to before a performance. She didn’t want to dwell on what this weekend meant.

  It didn’t mean a damn thing. He couldn’t mean anything to her anymore.

  “There are times when I miss acting,” Foster replied. He joined her on the sofa. “Once in a while I help Alexander with an illusion and then I’m able to get a dose of that applause.”

  “It is a rush, isn’t it?” Gaby smiled as she remembered standing under the lights of a little theater in Nebraska. The night had been magic in itself. All the illusions had gone off without a hitch. She’d felt the audience’s attention on her, even while blindfolded. The applause had thundered around the room and echoed in her chest.

  Probably a fraction of what Alex received now after a performance. But for a twenty-year-old girl, the audience’s response had given her a rush of pride and exhilaration and she’d known she wanted to perform for the rest of her life.

  Alex had dragged her out of bed the next morning to show her the outstanding review in the local paper. They’d danced around the motel room, laughing and kissing and falling onto the bed and fucking with joy. They’d booked more shows almost overnight and it had seemed their dreams were coming true.