Chapter 28 #2
I put just enough emphasis on the word activities to make Luke chuckle down the earpiece. The sound makes my entire body thrum.
“Please,” Lowbridge says, leaning across the table with a smile oilier than the Thames. “Call me Simon.”
“Please don’t,” says Luke dryly in my ear. “He might actually blow in his pants if you do.”
I suppress a hugely inappropriate urge to laugh. I had no idea how much fun this could be. I’m accustomed to these meetings being deadly serious affairs.
“But I’m sure the NCA will be grateful for your help.” I take a mouthful of wine and roll it suggestively around my mouth. Lowbridge’s eyes follow every movement. I lower my tone suggestively. “Especially given the . . . pounding you gave them recently.”
“You liked that, huh?” His eyes flare with interest.
I nod, licking my lips slowly. “It was certainly . . . impressive.”
“Oh, princess.” Luke’s voice is low and dirty. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Far, far more than I ever have before.
Lowbridge’s glass of wine arrives, and he gulps it greedily, his eyes falling to my cleavage. I feel a familiar flash of contempt.
Does this stupid fucker actually believe my act? After he’s tried to not only kill me, but stitch me up in the media?
As if in direct counterpoint, Luke gives a short bark of laughter. “Oh, he’s definitely hard now.”
I press my lips together. I love that he sees what I do.
Lowbridge gives me another oily smile. “You’ll find that I can be very open to sharing—Zinaida.”
“In his dreams,” says Luke in my ear, and I almost choke on my wine.
Fortunately, Jean chooses that moment to arrive with our meals, which gives me a moment to collect myself.
“Your proposal has merit,” I say as he sets the plates down.
Lowbridge sees the enormous platter of chateaubriand and sides, then my own small plate with four carefully arranged scallops, and his expression shifts from smug satisfaction to dismay.
I smile serenely at his discomfiture. “But let’s not be premature. ”
“Too late,” comes Luke’s predictable aside.
It’s extremely difficult keeping a straight face with him talking at me like this. Not to mention the fact that even the sound of his voice makes me wet between the legs, which really doesn’t help my ice maiden act with Lowbridge.
I finish my wine and pour myself another glass, which has the predictable effect of making Lowbridge gulp his own in an effort to keep pace. Unfortunately, he neglected to order a bottle, so he’s forced to wait for the waiter to attend him again.
“I’d offer you some Viognier,” I say, “but we have rather different tastes, I’m afraid.” I slide a scallop into my mouth.
“Oh, I doubt that.” Lowbridge gives me a suggestive look and snaps his fingers at the waiter. Actually snaps them. I thought only bad characters in movies still did that.
“Does he think his two fingers are going to make you come?” Luke murmurs, and my eyes water with the effort of maintaining my composure.
“I assume you’re not making this offer out of the goodness of your heart.” I’m astonished my voice is still even. “Why don’t you get to the point?”
“Ha.” Lowbridge cuts off an enormous portion of meat and shoves it in his mouth, making his cheeks bulge obscenely. “You certainly are direct.” He points his knife at me, dripping blood on the white tablecloth.
Jean returns to the table. “Your Barolo, sir,” he says, giving me a pained look as he pours Lowbridge a glass.
“This bloody guy,” mutters Luke. “He’s a crime against good food.”
I eat another scallop to stop my laughter from exploding.
“I think you know what I want, Zinaida.” If Lowbridge is going for a suggestive tone, it’s definitely ruined by the meat stuck between his teeth and his rather red face. I know he’s waiting for the invitation he came here for.
“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows politely and drain another glass, which again makes Lowbridge gulp his own with indecent haste. He clearly isn’t a drinker, going by the queasy look as he eyes the platter before him.
God, I think contemptuously, men like you fucking bore me.
“The Winter Ball,” Lowbridge prompts when I don’t offer anything. “Membership to the Quartier. I think you’ll find it proves a beneficial arrangement for us both.”
“I doubt he’s benefited any woman in his life,” comes Luke’s predictably dry aside.
My mouth twitching dangerously, I shoot another warning glance over Lowbridge’s bent head, toward the invisible eyes I know are watching me.
“Oh, come on,” murmurs Luke. “You know you love it.”
My eyes flare, and he chuckles low in his throat. I shake my head, then immediately compose myself as Lowbridge raises his eyes again. By the time he meets mine, my mask is firmly in place, blank and cold as ever.
There’s an art to keeping someone on a string. It’s one I mastered a long time ago. And normally, I might not even have drawn the game out this long, but having Luke enjoy it with me has given the occasion a piquancy I’d thought long lost.
“I run a club called Pigalle, Mr. Lowbridge.” I stare at him coldly as he frowns at my use of his surname. “I’m not sure what stories you might have read in the Daily Truth, but I suggest you treat them with skepticism.”
“Oh, that’s good, princess.” Luke’s low voice makes my whole body quiver. “Now bring it home.”
“That said,” I go on, my expression still utterly blank, “if you ever had information you’d like me to pass on to the NCA, I may be able to make that happen.” I lean forward, far enough to afford him a face full of cleavage.
Lowbridge’s fork pauses halfway to his open mouth. He’s practically salivating.
“And if such an occasion should arise,” I murmur, licking my lips and giving him a sultry smile, “I believe you’ll find Pigalle’s rear rooms a discreet place for such an exchange of information.”
“I recommend the basement myself,” Luke chimes in. “The view there is stunning.”
Oh, two can play that game, Captain Macarthur.
I slide the last scallop between my lips tantalizingly slowly. Lowbridge might be staring at my mouth, but the gesture is definitely for Luke’s benefit.
Lowbridge seems frozen in his chair, his eyes shifting between my mouth and my breasts like a man possessed. “And the Winter Ball?” he manages, his voice a thin croak.
I scrape my teeth across my lower lip and then slowly wipe the linen napkin over my mouth and down toward my breasts. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, Simon, won’t we?”
His eyes widen at my use of his first name, and his breathing all but stops.
Luke’s low chuckle vibrates between my legs more potently than any device ever could. “I’d say that’s game over, princess, wouldn’t you?”
I’d say that you’d better be up to finishing the game you started, Macarthur, because after this little chapter, there’s no way I’m getting any work done for the rest of today.
“Thank you for the lunch invitation, Mr. Lowbridge.” Placing my napkin on the table, I stand up. “Do enjoy your meal. Although next time, I’d recommend the Chateauneuf-du-Pape instead of the Barolo.”
Then I turn and walk away, leaving him with the obscenely large platter of meat, a full bottle of wine, and an almost comical look of dismay.
“Charge the bill to my account,” I murmur to the ma?tre d’ as I pass. “And for God’s sake, send my guest a glass of decent wine to go with his lunch.”
I make it outside, alcohol and Luke’s low voice coiling like a serpent of desire in the pit of my belly, and feel almost faint with relief when the limo pulls up and Luke steps out of the driver’s seat, a dangerous smile curling the edges of his mouth.
“I sent Enzo and Charlie back to the club,” he says as he opens the rear door. “I told them I needed to debrief you before we open tonight.”
“Debriefing,” I say as I brush past him, shooting him a sultry look that makes his eyes go satisfyingly dark. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Just wait until that car door closes, Miss Melikov,” he murmurs, leaning forward on the pretext of tucking me in but instead running his fingers up my inner thigh until I gasp. “I plan to repay you for every one of those scallops.”
Out of sight of the street he kisses me once, hard, taking my laughter and my breath at once, and then he closes the door and walks around the limo, whistling between his teeth.
I catch sight of my flushed face in the mirror, the hard buds of my nipples under my dress.
No wonder Lowbridge got so flustered.
The idiot no doubt thought it was him having this effect on me.
If he only knew.
Luke slides into the driver’s seat and lowers the window between us as he pulls out into the traffic. Pulling out his earpiece, he holds out his hand, and I drop my own into it.
“Please tell me nobody else could hear you talking to me,” I say, suddenly horrified at the thought of my staff listening in to our banter.
“Definitely not.” Luke gives me a filthy grin in the rearview mirror.
“I split their comms to a separate channel before you ever got inside the restaurant. And they certainly can’t hear us now,” he adds, switching off both earpieces.
“Which is good, given that I need you to spread your legs for me.”
He says it so matter-of-factly that for a moment I’m not sure I’ve heard him right.
Then I see his eyes on mine in the mirror, and suddenly I can barely breathe at all.
“My dress is too tight for that.” My voice shakes.
“So pull it up.” His eyes flicker to mine in the mirror, then back to the road. “Do it, Zinaida.”
Oh, fuck.
Quivering inside, I squirm on the seat until my dress is hitched high enough for my legs to part.
“Nice underwear.” His eyes settle on the dark patch of my arousal on the cream silk. “Now take them off.”
I hook my fingers under the silk and slide them off, swelling under his scrutiny in the mirror. Outside the day is already growing winter dim, the streetlights casting an intimate glow through the tinted windows. Slowly I spread my legs open.