Chapter 8
Sophia
Well, then. I try to keep my cool, like Dean’s words haven’t affected me. I’ve never attended a swinger party in my life. I’ve done nothing kinky ever. And I wonder if this is something I even want to continue talking about.
“Oh,” I breathe out.
“Exactly. So, I’m not sure how we’re going to get close to him.”
An idea forms in my head, but I can’t voice it. No, it would be too crazy to even speak this idea out loud. “Um…” my words fail me.
Hard-core BDSM isn’t my thing, but I think I can manage a bit of kink…
“Um, what?” Dean stares at me like he can read my mind. And who knows, maybe he can. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I nod, slowly. “I think so.”
He bounds from the couch, running a hand through his blond hair. “Listen, Sophia, this isn’t something we could half-ass. This isn’t something like pretending to be friends and talking to a few people at a party.”
“No, I know.” Although, I’m not sure if I really understand what we’re agreeing to here.
“We’d need rules.”
I nod. “Lots of rules.”
“Are we really thinking the same thing?” He turns around to stare into my eyes.
His gray eyes intensify, and I try to turn away, but I can’t.
“Pretend we’re married to get an invitation to one of Mr. Hollingsworth’s swinger parties?”
He returns to sit beside me. “It’s up to you, Sophia. Tell me you want to do this.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. Is it crazy, earlier when we were both sitting here on this couch, I thought Dean wanted to kiss me? It is, right? And even now, I feel the spark of chemistry between us.
“I want to do this,” I tell him.
He leans in and captures my mouth with his and my heart nearly thrashes out of my chest. His tongue traces along my lower lip, begging to come inside. I open, letting his tongue roam over mine. It feels so good, and he moves closer. There’s this charged electricity between us and if I’m not careful, I might get zapped.
Dean releases me, breaking the kiss. “Sorry, we need to get used to each other, that means practice.”
He licks his lips, and I watch the action. The little smile he gives me once he’s caught me staring makes my cheeks heat.
I’m pretty sure I’m blushing so I glance away.
And then, it dawns on me, Dean and I are going to have to play the part of a married couple. We’re going to be attending parties with sex and other things. All of a sudden, I feel like a virgin. Like I’ve never been touched before. “I’ve never done anything like this,” I tell Dean.
“Done what?”
I sit back, needing the space between us both. “Sex parties. Swapping partners. Any of it.”
Dean smiles a highly seductive type of smile. “It’s ok. Neither have I.”
I want to believe him, but I don’t. Maybe Dean isn’t into swapping and sex parties, but I’m sure he knows his way around a bedroom. I’m sure he deals in kink like Vegas deals in cards. “What if they don’t believe us?”
“Then, we’re dead.” Dean adopts a serious look, and gazes into my eyes. “We’re going to have to play this part well. We must be believable.”
I nod.
“I mean it. We can say we’re newly married and you’re new to the game. That way when your big eyes give you away, they’ll know why.” He reaches a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from my face.
“Do you think we can get away with this? Do you really think it’ll work?”
He grins. “I do. I think this is just the thing to get close to Humphrey.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing we’ll soon find the location of Bishop. A knock on the door breaks us apart from discussing our plan further.
“Dean, phone lines are back up,” Zack says from the doorway.
“Oh, thank god,” Dean says, standing. “I just have a few calls to make to secure our travel to the US, and to make sure everyone is where they should be.”
I nod, knowing when to take a hint to leave. On the way to my bedroom, I wonder if I can really pull a plan like this off? I guess I’ll have to pretend better than I ever have before.
I can’t let the chance at finding Bishop slip through my fingers because my heart is in the middle. This is bigger than me. If I need to play with fire, I’ll do it without fear. I’ll burn at the end, anyway. And as much as I hate to admit it, I trust Dean. Just a little bit. But I know he won’t let anyone hurt me at these swinger parties.
Right?
He’ll keep me safe, or else someone will get a face full of my fist if they touch me the wrong way.
While Dean’s on the phone, I familiarize myself with the house in the daylight, checking out each room, trying to get a feel for Dean the person. I know this isn’t his primary home, but he stays here, right? I’m sure he had some say in the modern decor. I’m sure it’s similar to his other properties.
Wealth oozes from the furnishings. Tall glass, carved wood, and polished stone in perfect sync. This excess is a life I’m not accustomed to. I’m not a part of this world. If I had to guess, Dean Maddox can afford a string of houses on every island in the world. Hell, he probably has his own private island.
I try to imagine myself as Mrs. Dean Maddox. Filthy rich. Everything I could ever want at my fingertips. People waiting on me hand and foot. Can I really pretend to do this? What if they figure out I’m a lie?
I remember my mother’s words, the ones she would say to me night after night when I would have a hard time falling asleep. She’d come into my room, sit on the edge of my bed and run her fingers through my hair. She’d say, “One day, Sophia, one day you’ll be away from this place and you can be whatever you want to be. You were born with the power to create, and you must start with yourself.”
I never gave her words much thought back then, but now I do. Now I need to look deep inside myself, find the woman I am, the woman who doesn’t take no for an answer. The type of woman who can handle being a rich socialite. Someone who has a squad of servants ready to serve her hand and foot. A type of girl who has expensive things, like swanky jewelry, luxury cars, and designer clothing.
I continue around Dean’s house, picturing it as mine. Imagining I live here and we’re married, living a life where we attend lavish parties and I laugh while drinking cocktails with other socialites.
I can do this. In the bronze framed mirror hanging in a wide hallway, I stare at my reflection, noticing my ordinary long brown locks, and brown eyes. I got this.
“Good news,” Dean’s voice calls from down the hallway.
I turn around. “What’s that?”
“We can leave the island once we have everything in place and our story secure.”
I smile. We’re one step closer to finding Bishop Blackstone.
The object of my revenge is within reach… almost.
The island shopping life was made for tourists. Under different circumstances, I’d love to spend my time wandering around tasting local wine, cheese, and bread. Getting lost in the magical background. People call this place Ilha Preta . Black island, for its volcanic earth. But it’s also a lush green, and beyond that, the ocean is crystal blue…
“What do you think about this one?” Dean says.
I tear my gaze from the scenic beauty outside the front glass of the jewelry store. Pretending to be married is not as easy as it looks, but it’s lucrative. After Dean briefed his team on our plans, he rushed me to the finest jeweler on the island to buy the biggest diamond he could find in the cutest little shop.
“I like it.” This feels odd. Having such an element of property around my finger.
It’s huge. The ring, not other things. I haven’t seen those things… yet. I blush at my own thoughts that no one can even hear. We’re standing in the middle of a jewelry store, purchasing a rock bigger than Gibraltar’s, with a band full of diamonds. An eternity one, the jeweler said. The pair costs more than most people’s yearly salary, and Dean purchases it without even blinking an eye.
Meanwhile, I’m over here thinking about his… goods. What’s wrong with me? It’s like as soon as Dean mentioned we’d be going to this sex club, my mind has been occupied with only that.
The mechanics of the situation…
“We don’t really need anything this flashy.” I look at the five-carat oval-cut ring on my finger. It nearly blinds me.
“What do you mean?” Dean stares at me like I’m an inmate at an insane asylum.
“I mean, we can get something smaller, don’t you think?”
Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Not a chance. No one would believe I’d let my beautiful wife walk around town without the finest rock I could find on her finger.”
Yup, the rings have a basic function. Announce to the world I’m his.
I blush at him calling me beautiful, though, and stare at the ring once more. “Ok,” I agree, knowing I won’t ever let this ring out of my sight.
“We’ll need to get other things when we get to New York.”
“Like what?” I ask, but I’m guessing I already know the answer to his question when he glances at my clothes. “Ah, I need to look the part.”
“Yes, new wardrobe. Maybe some sexy lingerie to wear to these parties.”
My eyes widen at the mention of lingerie being worn in front of other people. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but it’s still a personal thing to me. I don’t want to show off my lady bits to strangers.
It’s been a full twenty-four hours since we hatched this plan to pose as a married couple, and in that time Dean and I have spent the entire time getting to know our likes and dislikes. I’ve learned he hates tea, but loves coffee. He grew up poor in Chicago. He left when he was around eighteen and went to work for a friend of his. I also know he killed Bishop once before, but it didn’t take. Bishop survived. Now Dean is adamant about killing him again.
I’ve told him superficial things about me. I’ve told him I survive on Italian food, pizza is my love language, and I hate macaroni and cheese. Sorry, but that’s not real Italian food.
I told him about my life growing up. About my sister and brothers. About my father’s death. I told him when I came to America I swore I would do something with my life, but lately all I’ve been doing is obsessing over killing Bishop.
We devised the backstory that we both met in New York at a party held by one of Mr. DeWinter’s friends. We fell instantly in love and he whisked me away to the Azores to get married. We’re newlyweds and Dean is into watching other men touch his beautiful wife.
It makes me wonder what kinds of things he’s really into.
My stomach has been a complete bundle of nerves since we’ve mentioned pretending to be married. Dean has a mutual friend with Mr. Hollingsworth, so he says he’ll be able to secure an invite easily.
Once the payment is processed, we leave the store.
“Let’s head back home and prepare for our flight,” Dean says.
My left hand is heavier than before. I can’t stop staring at the ring.
Do you think after this whole charade and I kill Bishop that Dean would let me keep this thing? Probably not.
Maybe I can steal it. Pretty things could turn a girl into a greedy Sméagol… my precious … I’m ready to proclaim.
No, that’s not me. I push the thought away. If I steal something that’s not mine, then I’m no better than Bishop. I won’t ever let my mind go there again.
“Tonight, I’d like you to sleep in my bed,” Dean says as we drive home.
“Your bed?”
“Yes, we need to be comfortable around each other.” Dean holds up his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you.”
The dangerous thing is, what if I want him to?