Knight Takes Queen (28 page)

He unceremoniously slid his hand between her legs, slipped his fingers over the pierced metal openings front and back, adjusted the requisite shield over her sex, then standing upright again, snapped the lock into place. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to have one drink. Would you like one?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, he left her standing there.

She looked around for something to hit him with, but quickly suppressed the feeling. She could play this game of indifference for several days yet before reaching a crisis point in terms of her fertility. Turning around, she watched him from across the room, standing beside a small bar,
pouring himself a drink. ‘What are my liquor choices?’ she asked, pleasantly.

His glass in hand, slowly pivoting, he surveyed her as if debating the sincerity of her tone. ‘Anything you want,’ he said, finally, ‘so long as we don’t need a bartender.’ But his dick was less concerned with degrees of sincerity. One look at her voluptuous body, lush tits, shapely hips, her pussy locked up tight, his dick was fully aroused.

She noticed the fly of his shorts strained.

He saw she noticed. Fuck. It had been too long since he’d banged the hell out of that breathtaking body. But Katherine could help him out, take the edge off, take care of him with her mouth. With that thought in mind, by the time she reached the bar, he was marginally relaxed. Although his dick was still rocking.

‘I don’t suppose you have any champagne,’ she said, when she reached him, glancing at the array of bottles on the mirrored shelves.

He smiled. ‘I suppose I do.’ He lightly touched a portion of the mirrored wall, and it opened to reveal a refrigerator stocked with several dozen bottles of champagne.

She pointed at a half bottle. ‘I don’t want to waste.’

‘Not a problem,’ he said, and pulled out a bottle of the Krug Clos d’Ambonnay ’96.

‘Really, Dominic, that’s too extravagant.’

‘I’ll help you.’ He poured her a glass, handed it to her, quickly drained his whisky, picked up the champagne bottle and nodded towards a nearby sofa. ‘We don’t have to rush,
baby. We have three weeks.’ He smiled. ‘We can’t count today on the contract. It’s almost seven.’

She smiled back. ‘I suppose.’

He politely didn’t reply as they moved towards the leather sofa.

‘I heard that,’ she teased

‘I made sure you didn’t, baby. You wouldn’t have liked what I was thinking.’ He winked. ‘Round two coming up after a couple drinks.’

He sat on the far side of the sofa, as distant from her as possible, and drank out of the bottle. ‘If you have any questions about any of this equipment, just ask. Most of it is self-explanatory.’

‘Did you ever worry about catching something?’

He smiled faintly. ‘Something?’

‘An STD.’

He shrugged. ‘You pay for health certificates and guarantees.’

‘Did you ever get involved?’

‘Every fucking time.’ He paused at her stare. ‘Sex is involvement, baby, no matter how you do it.’

‘God you’re a prick.’

‘And you’re breaking my balls. So I guess we’re even.’

‘Hostile sex. Is that what this is going to be?’

He smiled, half lifted the bottle in his hand. ‘At least we have the right setting.’

‘So that’s why we’re here.’

‘You said that before and I told you I don’t know why we’re here. I still don’t, so save your breath.’

‘Is this a hotel?’

He nodded.

‘I thought you didn’t like to stay in hotels.’

‘I own this one. The top floor is mine. No one has access except me.’

‘And your staff.’

He did a little double take, registering his staff as a presence. Then he said, brusquely, ‘Right. Them too.’

‘How many?’

‘How many what?’

‘How many staff do you have here?’

He softly sighed. ‘If it’s important to you, Katherine, I’ll find out how many staff I have.’

She sniffed. ‘You’re too rich.’

‘You are now, too.’

‘Am not.’

He laughed. ‘Fuck, you’ll argue about anything.’ He waved the bottle in her direction. ‘Want more?’

She shook her head.

Raising the bottle to his mouth, he swallowed for a lengthy interval and drained it. Then he dropped the bottle on the floor and came to his feet. ‘Let’s eat dinner. I’m hungry.’

Turning, he walked to the door, then swung back. ‘Coming? You can’t get in or out without a key, so unless
this room fascinates you for some reason, I suggest you get off your ass.’

‘It’s going to be a long fucking three weeks, isn’t it?’ she muttered, rising from the black leather sofa and walking towards him.

‘The longest, baby. No shit.’

When they entered the bedroom, he went to the closet, found a robe for her and handed it over. ‘Cotton,’ he said, so she’d know he’d bought it for her, that it wasn’t someone else’s.

‘Were you planning on coming here?’ She surveyed the row of cotton robes hanging in the closet.

He was pulling open a drawer and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Nope.’

‘Then these robes weren’t for me.’

He swung around, a pair of grey sweats in his hand. ‘Ever hear of the phone?’ Without waiting for an answer, he jerked off his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor.

‘That fast?’ The trip to this apartment hadn’t taken more than forty minutes.

‘As you see,’ he said, without looking up. His shorts and boxers discarded, he was stepping into his sweats. ‘We can eat dinner in the living room and watch TV. Decide what you want.’ Leaning over, he picked up his shorts, extracted the key to the locked room, slipped it into his sweats pocket and dropping the shorts, walked from the room.

She followed him down the hall into the living room. The sun was beginning to set, the view out the windows
stunning. ‘Nice view,’ she said, figuring that was a safe topic when nothing much else was.

He looked at her for a moment, as if she’d suddenly sprouted two heads. Then his mouth lifted in a mannered smile. ‘So I’ve been told.’ Dropping onto one of the grey suede sofas, he reached for the phone on a nearby table. ‘Do you know what you want?’ he asked, leaning his head back on the sofa pillows, gazing at her expressionless.

‘Your head on a platter?’

He smiled tightly. ‘Besides that. Would you like a menu? The restaurant downstairs has two Michelin stars. The food’s good. Otherwise, just tell me what you want to eat and they’ll make it. And don’t say chocolate cake right away because if this insane project of yours is for real, your desserts are going to come
after
you eat something decent.’

‘I just lost my appetite.’

‘Then I’ll order for you,’ he said, undeterred by her petulance. ‘Find us something to watch on TV.’ He hit a button on the phone and a moment later said, ‘Let me talk to Wes. Yeah, same to you. Right, it’s been a while. It’s good to be back. OK, catch you later. Hi Wes. What’s on the menu tonight?’ Dominic listened, said, ‘Fine, good,’ or ‘perfect,’ many times, then laughed. ‘I just happen to be starved. Funny. I’ll let you know. That aside, we’ll be needing three meals a day. Sure … hors d’oeuvre, why not? Now tell me what I have to do so you get that third Michelin star. Think about it. Give me a list. I’ll pay for it. You make it happen. OK, smart ass.’ Dominic was smiling when he hung up.
‘They’re going to cook something for us,’ he said, glancing at Kate who was standing by the flickering TV. ‘Really, you want to watch that programme? Hey, I’m just kidding,’ he said when she scowled. ‘Come on, baby, let’s not fight all night. Wes’s food is great,’ he waved at the windows, ‘the view is even better at night. And I have trouble staying mad at you.’ He put up a hand. ‘Not that I’m still not pissed about this whole deal, but just not now. OK?’

‘OK.’ Kate sighed, then smiled. ‘I don’t like to fight either.’

She was standing in front of a very large flat panel TV and looking small in contrast to the screen and the huge, high-ceiling room. Her curls were wild and unruly, framing her head like a filmy nimbus against the lighted screen, giving her an innocent, saintly air. ‘You OK with that – whatever … my new toy?’ he asked, as if saintly thoughts required instant redress. ‘It’s not uncomfortable or anything. Nothing rubbing? I told them your skin was delicate.’

She smiled. ‘Nothing rubs. They must have listened.’ Sweeping the robe skirt open, she playfully posed for him, holding the forget-me-not printed material out in flaring wings. ‘You like it?’

Saintly images instantly vapourized. ‘Jesus, baby, that is so fucking hot.’ The multi-coloured jewels embedded in the gold mesh twinkled and sparkled, as if the lush sight of pale flesh imprisoned by stark metal wasn’t sufficient lure to the eye, as if the punitive factor in the locked design wasn’t adequate enticement.

‘And temporary I presume,’ she said, smiling serenely.

‘Why don’t we say for my amusement between my work shifts.’

‘You’re such a sweetheart.’

‘Damn right I am. Because you’re goddamn crazy and I’m still going along with this.’ He softly sighed. ‘Come here. Let me hold you. Tell me this is all going to work out. That this isn’t one huge fucking blunder.’

He looked so grave and sombre, her heart ached. She wanted to tell him she had a good feeling, that he shouldn’t worry. But that would have sounded juvenile and Pollyanna or worse, crazy, like his accusation. So as she moved towards him, she offered modest comfort. ‘Remember, the doctor pronounced me awesomely healthy. That has to count for something. Even if it’s only a fifty percent factor, it’s a good beginning. And,’ she added, going for broke after all because she was bubbling inside with exuberance, ‘I have a really good feeling about this, Dominic.’

He frowned as he held out his arms. ‘Does that counteract my really bad feelings?’

‘Of course.’ She fell into his outstretched arms like people did in those trust exercises and whispered against his grim mouth. ‘Good is always stronger than bad in the world. Always, always, Dominic.’

He grunted rather than rain on her starry-eyed parade. ‘OK, Little Miss Sunshine. Let’s try and keep it that way.’

Dominic was effortlessly charming over dinner, with a grace acquired over years of experience, asking her about her projects at work as they ate, praising her for two acquisitions
she’d vetted for them, even talking a little about his uncle he’d adored.

She responded less easily with her gaze constantly drawn to Dominic’s nude torso, or the dark beauty of his face, or the way he moved with such grace when he came out of his lazy sprawl on the sofa to pick up his wine glass or some appetizer with his fingers.

A table had been wheeled in and placed in front of Dominic on the sofa. A chair had been drawn up for her opposite him. So the object of her love and lust was directly in her line of vision. He was ridiculously handsome, tall, lean yet solid with muscle. Politely immoral, indifferent to censure.

As if he knew he was irresistible in all manner of things.

Not just to her, but to everyone, to women particularly. In this apartment especially. And she jealously wondered how many women he’d entertained in this contrived stage set? How many had seen him lounging on that sofa, half dressed, being gracious, looking at them like he was looking at her; his extraordinary blue eyes under his dramatic black brows, warm, seductive, making them wet like he was making her wet.

When he leaned across the table to feed her a spoonful of caviar, and said, ‘Open up, baby,’ flame hot desire lit her from within, every pleasure centre instantly came online. ‘They claim this is an aphrodisiac,’ he added with a smile, the mother of pearl spoon inches from her lips.

She stiffened, offended by Dominic’s casual dispensing of aphrodisiacs. ‘Is this your normal routine here?’

She wouldn’t care to hear what his normal routine had been
. ‘It’s a rare caviar, baby,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘Albino Oscietre. Full of vitamins. High protein.’ He glanced down at his extended hand, then up, held her gaze. ‘We want you to be healthy. And in case you forgot, it’s my rules for the next three weeks.’

She faced his self-possessed smile, that trick he had of looking detached enough to wait for ever, and experienced a moment of helplessness in this game they were playing. ‘But I get a baby out of it,’ she said, to re-balance the equation before she opened her mouth.

After a brief, perfunctory smile, he slid the spoonful in her mouth, sat back while she’d chewed and swallowed, then repeated the process until she eaten the small bowl of caviar on ice.

She gave him a taunting look. ‘What about you?’

‘Don’t worry. This harrowing experience is keeping my adrenaline pumping. I’m just making sure you’re primed. Our contract starts at midnight. Don’t plan on sleeping much after that.’

‘I need to sleep.’

‘You can sleep when I do,’ he said.

‘Hey!’

A tight silence fell. ‘You asked, I’m telling you.’ His voice was rough, uncompromising, then he pushed a small plate of Thai lobster her way and began eating his.

Several courses later: fresh pasta with sorrels, carrot soup, beef tenderloin with Périgueux sauce, artichokes with foiegras,
spinach with soft-boiled eggs and Mornay sauce, fruit salad with red berry coulis, a stunning chocolate soufflé for Kate at the end, Dominic said in gross understatement, ‘That wasn’t bad. Are you done? Should we move on?’ He put his arm along the back of the sofa, slid down a little lower on his spine, smiled. When her face flushed, he said, blandly, ‘We can order more later if you like. The kitchen’s open twenty-four hours. Is there something you’d like to watch on TV? A movie? One of your talent shows? Would you like to take off that chastity belt?’ His voice was mild at the last as if coming to the final item on a grocery list. ‘I could help you.’ He slid the key out of his sweats pocket and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. ‘We could try a little test run before midnight?’

‘Where?’ she asked.

He didn’t misunderstand; she meant
not
his locked room. ‘Anywhere you like.’

‘The bedroom then.’ Getting to her feet, she had to steady herself, quickly pressing her palms on the table. She’d been wet, needy, aching with longing even before he’d leaned across the table to feed her caviar. He was entirely too beautiful, too irresistible. While Dominic as autocrat always had a predictable impact on her libido, each spoonful of caviar she’d consumed testament to his power.