Knaves (5 page)

Hayden felt utterly miserable. That had gone terribly and every time he opened his mouth the wrong thing seemed to come out.

He knew, deep down in his heart, why he was behaving like such a pig. Karla had been right—not entirely right, but enough to see through him. Eloise had been an unexpected move on the part of Valmont, one that had thrown him and his carefully planned behaviour as Sebastian Rider. He hated the fact that he’d lost control of himself, just as he hated some of the things he’d said.

But he also hated Karla. Well, perhaps hate was too strong a word. But he was incredibly pissed off with her. She
’d over-reacted. Perhaps he hadn’t handled things as well as he could have, but if only she’d let him explain: this was a perfect opportunity! It was one that was far too good to miss, but Karla coming over all PMS-ey was going to ruin everything.

In truth, Hayden was looking for any excuse to shift a blame that threatened to eat away at him onto anyone else he could. Like a child, he had stormed around the room after Karla had gone, calling her every name under the sun, impotent in his rage. After about an hour of this, when she refused to return and bear witness to his righteous fury, he had slunk down to the bar to get himself as drunk as he possibly could.

As he sat there by himself, downing scotch after scotch, he fought against an increasingly prevalent dread. Was that it? Had she gone for good?

To hold that terror at bay, he lashed out mentally, going over an increasingly peevish battle-ground inside his skull. She was being too foolish to appreciate the brilliance of his plan. That had always been something that was so wonderful about Karla
—that she realised like him that conventional morality was a bind. They had been astonishing together, and his plan was brilliant...

Except that it wasn
’t. Karla had seen through him too easily. Eloise... Eloise was a factor that he hadn’t considered, that was true, but that wasn’t what worried Hayden most. No, like a blind fool he was the one who’d introduced her to the Marquis.

Valmont was good-looking, too good-looking now that Hayden thought about it. Hayden had spent so long having other men look at him jealously that he
’d forgotten what it was like to be jealous. Valmont was handsome, cultured, self-assured and
—
damn it!
—h
e had enough history to justify that arrogant, nonsensical aristocratic air he displayed. Curse him! He was like one of those stupid heroes in some godawful romance, where the heroine is swept off her feet by the dashing prince. He was also, Hayden had come to realise through his brother’s contacts, fabulously rich. Bloody hell! A walking cliché and Hayden Carter had introduced him to Karla Steel.

That bitch! She was probably already planning with her damned Uncle how best to shack up with the swine of an aristo and cut him out of the deal. Why oh why had he ever introduced the two of them to each other, and why oh why did he feel so bloody miserable?

He was staring at his phone, deciding if he should call Karla (though whether to scream and shout at her or plead for her to come back to him now, this minute, he wasn’t sure), or his brother. God! he thought to himself. I must be drunk if I’m considering sharing my woes with that bastard...

Before his thoughts could go any further, he heard a voice beside him that sounded vaguely familiar. It took another second or so to realise that the French woman was addressing him.

Turning his head, he stared into the face of an angel. An angel with a little more makeup than one would expect from all those Renaissance paintings, but there was no denying that Eloise Bissette was a work of art. For a moment the vision of her parted into two hazy images and he had to concentrate, force himself to focus.

“
I’m sorry,” he said. “Were you talking to me?” At least he wouldn’t have to act up much to play the part of Sebastian Rider’s buffoonery in this state.

Eloise smiled, a bow of scarlet and a hint of pearly white teeth as her blue eyes creased. The lights across the bar seemed to shimmer around her bright blonde hair. Hayden kept continuous instructions pumped through to his eyes: don
’t look at her tits—don’t look at her tits—don’t... damn! They are so fucking gorgeous!

“
I like a man who knows how to drink,” she said, her voice seductive and velvet. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“
Be my guest,” he replied, his words slurring more than he intended. “Bartender, another scotch for me and...”

Eloise smiled again and this time raised an eyebrow as he finally managed to regain control of his eyes and look at her face. Strange, thought Hayden to himself. When he
’d seen her with Valmont earlier that evening, her face had been a mask, giving nothing away, but this time her features were much warmer, full of life, and her eyes even twinkled slightly as she regarded him.

“
I’ll have a Black Russian,” she told the bartender.

“
That’s my kind of nightcap,” Hayden quipped as they were left alone for a few moments.

“
And is that what you’re doing now—having a nightcap before going to bed?” As she spoke, the Frenchwoman seemed to move ever so slightly closer to Hayden, so that now he was aware of the warmth of her body through his shirt sleeve. It felt… pleasant. “And where is Jeanne?” she continued. “Not joining you? Or waiting for you upstairs?”

“
Who?” asked Hayden, so stupidly drunk at that moment that he was in danger of forgetting their cover story. He scowled at himself. Get a grip man! “She’s had to… go out.”

Misreading his grimace, Eloise
’s smile became broader and she perched herself back slightly further on the stool next to Hayden as the bartender handed them their drinks. Her back was arched slightly, the plummeting dress descending almost to her buttocks, which Hayden couldn’t help notice were as fine as her breasts above. He started to feel a little uncomfortable beneath his belt line. He was so taken with that fact, he turned his eyes away as she lifted his drink. When he looked back, she was smiling at him, holding a glass of amber liquid up to him.

“
She’s a lucky woman,” Eloise remarked. “To have such a handsome devil as you around.” She turned her head and stared brazenly at him, her blue eyes piercing, glittering, slightly hypnotising Hayden for a second so that the alcoholic haze fuming through his mind dissipated for a moment. Had he ever seen any eyes as beautiful as those? Then they mixed with Karla’s and his anger built up inside him again.

“
You’d think, wouldn’t you,” he replied sarcastically. Then he pulled his gaze away from Eloise’s and knocked back his whisky. As fire sluiced his throat again, he felt the room shift around him and he almost slid from his seat.

The bar seemed to take it
’s time coming to a standstill and, before he realised where he was, her hand was on his arm. Dumbly for a moment, he stared down at the long, pale fingers, with bright red nails that shone like poison. Whose hand was that? He wondered absent-mindedly. He didn’t remember painting his nails. Oh, yeah—Elo-whatshername. Why was she here again? Ah, yes, La Lupa—he remembered now. He smiled foolishly to himself.

“
I was a big fan of your work, you know.” His brain heard his mouth a nanosecond later and he wanted to kick himself. Hell! There was a time when he would have been fully in control of a situation like this, would have had the woman eating from the palm of his hand (or, usually, somewhere a lot more intimate), but a year with Karla had turned him into a gauche fool.

“
Was
?” she repeated, her voice both amused and slightly sharp.

“
Well, you know,” he mumbled, his eyes slowly travelling up where her hips flowed to her narrow waist and back out to her extremely impressive bosom before, finally, settling on her face which was swaying aside in a somewhat unsettling manner. “A man has… commitments. In any case, I thought you said you didn’t make those kind of movies anymore.”

Her smile became more self-assured.
“I don’t, not unless Valmont wants me to. And I never understood why such… commitments would prevent you from enjoying me whenever you want. It’s such a wasteful emotion, jealousy—don’t you think?”

“
Oh, oh, I couldn’t agree more!” Hayden nodded vigorously, an act which unfortunately seemed to dislodge part of his brain. Another drink: that would settle him. As he raised his hand to call the bartender over he slid from his stool once more, this time almost tumbling completely. Before he was even aware of what had happened, Eloise had appeared next to him, one arm around his waist and supporting him.

“
Come on,” she whispered in his ear. “I think it’s time we got you back to your bed.”

“
A good idea,” mumbled Hayden, thinking to himself: Wow! She’s really quite strong!

As they staggered
—or, more precisely, Hayden staggered and Eloise held him up—towards the elevator, Hayden repeated the intensely romantic mantra “don’t be sick—don’t be sick” again and again to himself. Goddamn! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this drunk, but as Eloise placed him against the wall of the elevator, using a hand to hold his chest still as one of her legs slid between his—in a way that didn’t seem quite as innocent an act of support as she presumably meant—he realised that not
all
of his body was that drunk.

“
I should… I should get some sleep,” he muttered, suddenly guilty as he thought of Karla. “But thank you, thank you so much for helping out a chap in need.”

“
My pleasure,” Eloise purred, her face a few inches away from his, looking up at him as her other hand seemed to slide down his stomach and lingered a moment too long on his crotch, an act which made her eyes light up. “You keep yourself… very fit,” she breathed, lifting her mouth to his ear. The smell of her perfume was overpowering.

“
Ugh… thanks.” Hayden’s brain was a fog of confusion now. On his right shoulder, a single angel was telling him to think of Karla, while on his left a whole troupe of little demons was jumping up and down yelling a host of unspeakable suggestions. He put up a feeble defence: “So… how did you meet Valmont?”

For a second her smile faltered then she raised a single eyebrow.
“You don’t really want to know that,” she told him. “There are only two people here now who really matter.”

This time, when she kissed him he didn
’t resist. Instead one hand slid into her dress, encountering the firm, hot resistance of those magnificent breasts as his other moved around her back, scrunching up the fabric around her taut, delicious buttock. Her mouth was hot and sensuous, her tongue a wet snake that slide and penetrated his mouth, sucking out his breath so that he could no longer think.

Hayden didn
’t even know where he was, who he was when the lift opened and he half fell into the corridor, causing an elderly couple to gasp as Eloise followed behind, holding him up by one arm. He saw her wink at them and then drag him along. “Which room?” she hissed, biting his ear to show she meant business. Bloody hell! he thought through the fug of his brain—she really
is
strong.

He vaguely told her a number and she fished inside his jacket, pushing him against the wall with the other hand and holding him in place as she retrieved his card key. Her look was triumphant, vulpine, and he had the oddest sensation as he remembered from somewhere that
lupa
could be the female name for a wolf. Then he remembered the videos he’d seen her in and any further attempt at resistance was lost in a sudden swelling of his manhood.

“
She doesn’t understand me,” he said, self-pityingly. “Everything I’ve done, I do for her, but she doesn’t get me.”
Shut up! Shut up!
his brain screamed at his mouth.
Listen to yourself!
Instead, Eloise turned at him and regarded him strangely.

“
We never do,” she replied ambiguously.

Now the door was open and he stumbled inside, barely able to keep his feet. With one gentle push, Eloise sent him sprawling onto the sofa and stood in front of him.

At that precise moment, as he looked up at her, Hayden had the weirdest feeling that she appeared to be some kind of Valkyrie, with large, pointed breasts and blonde hair curled up about her head. There were two parts of him, he realised, that were not completely inebriated at that point. Hayden had never really seen the point of a conscience, but one tiny part of his brain was reminding him in increasingly truculent tones that if this wasn’t necessarily wrong, it was certainly not part of his and
Karla’s
plan. (His brain seemed to take insufferable pleasure in emphasising her name.)

Unfortunately, the other part of him that didn
’t seem to be experiencing any adverse side effects of all the booze was doing its damnedest to get out of his trousers. With a groan, Hayden realised that in any fight between brain and cock tonight, the latter was sure to win.

Eloise
—Lupa—seemed to realise it as well. Raising her hands to the straps of her dress, she eased them from her shoulders, letting it shimmy down her body to the floor. Jesus! Those glorious tits were defying gravity in a way Hayden had never seen in close quarters before. He knew they weren’t real—not like Karla’s breasts—but at that moment he was so filled with lust that he didn’t care.