Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nicolette
It seemed for a short time there that everything slowed down. When he cupped my jaw. Asked me if I trusted him. Leaned in as if to kiss me.
But we’re on now. And I have a job to do.
He said she was sexy.
Does he think I’m sexy? Does he also have… how did he put it… discriminating tastes?
As we walk side by side, I realize that there’s more than one couple here that could be going to the same place we are.
One woman wears a subtle leather kitten collar, a slim chain hidden in the palm of her partner’s hand. Another couple, their arms entwined with one another, wear shiny black leather latex that molds to their beautiful, muscled bodies.
Which of them, if any, are part of the Lyon family?
“Right there ahead of us,” Fabien says in a low whisper only I can hear.
The tall, leggy blonde wears black and red as he said, if you can call what she’s wearing clothes.
The top is no more than a thin, lacy bra, paired with a form-fitting black leather skirt that’s so short I could see the curve of her ass, if she didn’t have hair so long it covers her.
Her shoes are easily two inches higher than mine, and she’s got a flaming red fire tattoo on her upper right thigh.
Could’ve told us what to look for, I reason.
Could’ve maybe sent someone unattractive.
Am I jealous? Why would I be jealous of a woman I don’t know? Why do I care what Fabien thinks? She isn’t his girlfriend or anyone even remotely important to him.
She’s just someone paid to do a job.
My heart sinks when I think… just like me.
I have to protect my heart. I can’t fall for him.
I already have.
I stifle the sudden need to cry because I’m not worth anything to him. I’m a means to an end and nothing more.
I should be with someone who will protect me.
The sudden rush of a thought hammers at my resolve.
He will.
Savannah needs me.
Savannah.
I’ll have to check in on her the second we’ve accomplished this mission.
Do it for Savannah.
Our footsteps echo on the pavement as we approach. Trained well for fulfilling this job, she barely even raises an eyebrow. A large leather bag’s slung over her shoulder.
When she sees me, she doesn’t move except to shift her eyes to Fabien beside me.
Oh yeah, bitch?
He’s mine.
When we’re only paces away, I tug his hand that’s threaded through mine. My heart thumps.
“Ah, there you are,” she says in French.
“Bonjour!” I take both of her hands and look up at her, since she’s so much taller than I am. Remember your job.
“Left hand,” she whispers in my ear as a small velvet bag slips against my palm.
I lean in as planned and, as a wave of perfume hits me, kiss her left cheek then her right.
Her sudden warmth and charm make me wish I knew her better.
Who is she that she does what Thayer commands?
Is she a—what did Fabien call it—consensual slave, then?
She looks so strong and powerful, it’s hard for me to understand how anyone like her could ever grant her total trust to a man like Thayer.
“Merci beaucoup.”
Just as quickly as she greeted me, she lets me go and Fabien takes my place.
“Au revoir,” she purrs. All around us, pedestrians come and go. Some enter through the door behind me and some go up a set of steps. No one seems to look our way.
Fabien snaps his fingers at me. “Nicolette.”
Did he just snap his fingers at me? I open my mouth to protest, when I remember.
I’m his slave now.
We’re in disguise.
This starts now.
I bite back a retort and smile sweetly. “Yes, sir?”
“Here.” He points beside him. The heft of the talisman in velvet weighs against my palm as I obey. I drop my hands to my sides as we march into the club.
“Show me,” he says, as soon as we’re inside, tucked safely behind the doorway. This has to look exactly like the real thing.
Before we came here, I did my research. I know we’re looking for a quartz sphinx that fits in my hand. It’s ancient-looking and encrusted with gems. Napoleon wanted something unique, something no one else in the world had. What he got was a treasure unlike any that had come before.
I open the velvet bag and tip it into my hand.
“Mon Dieu,” Fabien whispers. “It really does look like it, doesn’t it?”
“From what I’ve seen online, absolutely. And he believed this brought him good luck?”
“He did.” He glances at his watch. “We need to go. Let’s move.”
Does he believe he’ll garner good luck from the real talisman as well?
He takes the fake talisman and slides it into his pocket as we walk hand in hand down a narrow hallway, past a hall filled with so many mirrors I’m almost self-conscious, to the left where another set of double doors leads to a double set of elevators.
“You walk as if you know where you are going,” I say, trying to hide my dismay. “You’ve been here before.”
He isn’t yours. You’ve got a job to do. Think of Savannah.
“I have.”
It isn’t fair for me to be jealous of the fact that he’s been here before. “It isn’t owned by the Lyon family, then?”
“Not at all. Several other families frequent as well.”
Are they all mafia? I suppose it makes sense that organized crime and kink with a side of control run hand in hand.
“When I snap my fingers, you kneel,” he says in a low whisper.
I blink. “What?”
I should hate this. I should have to suck it all up just for the money, but a part of me’s… intrigued.
“We have no time,” he explains. “If we’d had the time we planned, we would’ve gone over all this already, but we didn’t, so for now, you’ll have to remember to do exactly what I say.”
“Okay…” I swallow.
“If you disobey me, I’ll punish you, and it won’t be the kind you like.”
Oh, so there’s a kind I like and I kind I don’t now?
I nod, kinda, sorta going along with this, but my mind is still stuck on “kneel.”
Kneel?
“Yes, sir,” I say helpfully.
“Is there a question in your voice?”
His fingers tighten around mine. “You please me very much.”
Is that… part of the role, or does he mean it?
Is he playacting now? Or is this real?
Singles and couples walk past us. Beside me, I hear a whispered conversation. The two men next to me look deeply into each other’s eyes, as if they’re the only two people in the world, even as they walk in sync.
I want that. I want it so badly it hurts. It gnaws at me like a kind of hunger.
My heart does an unexpected somersault.
Maybe it’s the fact that we’re here, in this place. Maybe it’s because I don’t want our time to come to an end. Maybe I’m afraid, and a part of me knows he’s got me. And it’s been a really, really long time since that’s happened.
I remind myself why I’m here, what I need to do. I mute the desperate need that grips me and look for a sign of the Lyon family. We’re out of time. I don’t know what they look like or where they’ll be, but then I realize Fabien does.
I only have to look to him.
I’m not the kind of woman that’s in need of saving, but I’d be lying if a small part of me didn’t hope… didn’t wish…
Fabien grabs me so suddenly I don’t even have time to gasp or react in any way.
He shoves me against his chest and stabs his fingers in my hair, yanking my head backward so I’m facing him.
Without warning, his mouth crashes on mine in a savage kiss.
Lips part, tongues tangle. He cradles my head in his hands as he plunders and pillages, burning down my defenses as if they’re made out of straw.
His hands are on my neck, my shoulders, raking down my body as if he’s memorizing every cell. When he reaches my ass, he lifts me, hauls me straight up in the air. My legs wrap around him and he walks with me like that, still joined in a kiss that makes us one.
I pant when he finally pulls back, but it’s only long enough for him to whisper in my ear, “You’re mine. Look at me. Don’t look anywhere else but at me.”
Good thing with our outrageous clothing and “fuck me now” make-out sesh we fit right in here, because no one even spares us a passing glance.
I stare at him, into the depths of his eyes, and want to cry. In my peripheral vision, I see a line of men slinking into The Underground. One by one, as they enter, the atmosphere in the room grows tense. Conversations grow quieter, and some couples draw closer together.
In my ear, Fabien tells me what’s going on. “The Lyon family has arrived.”
Just who we need. I swallow and nod against his chest. “Yes, sir.”
“What a good girl you are,” he says approvingly with a kiss to my cheek. Sliding me down his body, he takes the opportunity to make sure every inch of me touches him.
“I thought,” I lean in to whisper in his ear. He cups the back of my head. “There was no approval in a master and slave dynamic. I thought there was no… aftercare.”
“It is what you make of it,” he whispers back. “I don’t like labels, and the only rules I like are the ones I make for you. Do you know more than I thought you did?”
“Perhaps that’s for me to know and you to find out.”
A narrowed-eyed look is my only warning before he gives me a sharp, very public, smack to the ass. I stifle a squeal. No one looks our way.
“It’s time,” he whispers in my ear.
“Time for —”
The snap of his fingers halts the words on my tongue.
I stop breathing as I drop to my knees. I swallow when I realize my eyes are directly across from his leather belt.
I know what he can do with that belt.
I notice a few silver notches on the belt I don’t remember seeing before. On one hangs a silver key.
“This is how you are to kneel,” he says in a normal voice, not bothering to whisper this time. When he crouches in front of me, he grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger, dragging my chin to my chest. “Ass on your feet. Hands on your knees. Chin to your chest.”
As he talks, he arranges my body so I’m in the submissive posture he wants.
“There. Very good. When I give you the command to kneel, this is what I expect from you. Understand?”
Play the part.
I nod. I gulp when he threads his fingers through my hair and yanks. “What was that?”
“Yes, sir.”