Sexy as Hell Box Set (92 page)

“Ha!” I tuned onto my side, snuggled closer, throwing my leg over his and hooking my foot underneath so he was pinned to me, as close as I could get him. “I can’t get rid of her, not completely, so you’ll be all right. You won’t have to miss my acid tongue and exceptionally brilliant sarcasm.”

“Good.” He let out a big sigh as he continued to fondle my hair. “This is so nice, isn’t it? Us, here like this. Everything out there, laid bare. I didn’t think we’d get here so soon.”

“I didn’t think we’d get here at all.”

“But we have, and think about the future and how it will be. This new part of you, the rediscovered part you’ve had locked away for too damn long. She’s a joy, isn’t she? Can you feel it inside yourself, how it’s going to be?”

I took a moment to feel. To take in a deep breath and just
be
. And yes, I could imagine how it might be. I’d been infused with some kind of compassion drug, injected by Victor and nurtured into wellness with his loving care, his patience, his utter conviction that he could mend me by gluing all the pieces back together as best he could. I would forever have cracks, but I’d learn to love their pattern, accept them as my new skin, something to be celebrated not stuffed away out of sight. I’d worn that heavy camouflage clothing for what seemed like forever. It was time to get a new wardrobe. Floating, light fabrics that whispered over my body instead of bearing me down and abrading those cracks on my skin, reminding me of their existence.

I knew what Victor had been trying to teach me.

That I could be loved. Was worthy of being loved. That I could be me, scars and all, and still be someone worth knowing.

Wow. Just…wow.

I woke to a stream of sunlight brightening the room as though that sunny place I’d been in last night had followed me into the morning, promising to always be there, warming me with its goodness.

I found it a bit overwhelming.

Had I expected last night’s epiphany to have been a dream? Yes, I had. The fact that it wasn’t might take a while to get used to.

I turned to see Victor on his side looking at me, smiling, head propped in his palm, elbow digging into the mattress. If I never saw another sight I’d be a happy woman. He was all I needed to see. Just like this, him staring, me staring back, the air buzzing with something I couldn’t define. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was happiness. Whatever it was I wanted more of it.

“Good morning, Vixen.”

“Good morning, Virgin.”

A smile took me by surprise with its force. It hurt, was wide, and a
ball of excitement popped inside me, urging me to laugh. I did, let the sound burble out of me. I felt so carefree, so damn wonderful, and when he drew me towards him, crushed me against his chest and kissed the top of my head over and over, I sobered. Was he kissing me like that because he, too, couldn’t believe we were here? Was he so consumed with happiness that he couldn’t get a handle on it?

“This is just the start,” he said. “Our new beginning. From now on we’ll wake up every morning together, just like this.”

I hadn’t thought about that side of our future. The old me would have freaked out at the idea of me giving up my place or him giving up his. Upping sticks and moving in together—yes, I’d have resisted that. But now I didn’t care where we lived, just so long as I was with him. A thing, that’s all my home was. A thing that didn’t matter. The possessions it held belonged to another lifetime. I didn’t care if I never saw any of them ever again.

“That’ll be nice,” I said, snuggling my head onto his shoulder.

“So you have no objection to it?” he asked. “Moving into my penthouse?”

“None at all.”

“Bloody hell, there’s a turn up for the books.”

I swatted his chest. “Less of that, you. If you’re not careful, I might turn into the bitch I was and take you to task for that. Punish you.”

“That was the idea.”

“Ah, so you’re just as cunning as me, then. I see it all now. You’re a master manipulator. Dear Lord, just
what
have I got myself into?” I smiled again, loving this…this love. Loving us.

“I can be a devious bastard if I want to be.” He slid his finger beneath my chin and tilted my head so I was looking at him. “So, this punishment. Do I get one?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You want one, after last night? Is there no end to your depravity?”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “No, and it’s all your fault.”

“That’s right, blame me.”

“Oh, I will. I do. You’ve opened the door for my monster. Let him know what’s out there.” He rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head. “And he’s mad to be free, to try it all.”

“Hmm, but your arse. That’s got to be sore as hell this morning.”

He kissed me, soft and for a long time.

“It is,” he said. “But not all punishment needs to revolve around my arse.”

“I see. And I’m supposed to guess what you want?”

He widened his eyes. “What, you don’t already
know?
Zara the Mindreader doesn’t already
know
what I want? Fuck me, wonders will never cease…”

I laughed again—hard. “Of course I know.”

Wriggling so he knew I wanted to get out from beneath him, I gently pushed him off and onto his back, then straddled his shins. I drew the quilt over me, its top edge up to his chest.

“Your punishment is that you’re not allowed to see me,” I said. “Think of this quilt as a tablecloth. And remember what I did to you in The Savoy…”

We finally dressed at midday and navigated our way down the ornate staircase of The Baglioni and into the lobby. The scent of fresh flowers swirled with the gorgeous cologne Victor had applied after his shower, and I smiled at the thought of having a whole day with him, us, like this—together.

The doorman tipped his hat at us when we stepped outside.

“Fuck, it’s cold enough to freeze brass balls,” I said, shivering and watching my breath plume in front of my face.

“Well, it is winter.” Victor looked up and frowned.

Above us was a layer of grimy grey, the unblemished skies of the previous days hidden by a dank covering of cloud.

“We definitely should have brought our heavier jackets.” He slipped his hand around my waist. “Come on, let’s go back into the lobby. I’ll whizz upstairs and get them while you wait.”

I did as he’d suggested, smiling at the doorman apologetically for messing him about. He nodded the exact same way he had moments ago, unconcerned by our change of mind.

Victor watched me while I shrugged out of my light jacket and then he disappeared out of sight with it gripped in his hand and swinging at his thigh. I’d be glad of my heavier,
fake fur coat if we were going to explore Venice for the afternoon. I didn’t fancy worrying about goose bumps when I was admiring the architecture Victor had been chatting so animatedly about as we’d breakfasted in our room.

Glancing up the staircase, I heard people speaking in English.

Two pairs of feet appeared; shiny brown, pointy-toed male shoes and black stiletto boots.

Helen and Geoffrey.

Of all the fucking luck.

I slid behind a wide pillar, palms flat on the surface and the crown of my head skimming it.

The doorman glanced at me and went to reach for the door handle.

I shook my head. I could run and make a dash for it, but why the hell should I? I was entitled to be here as much as they were.

But still. I didn’t want to speak to them. Didn’t want my delicate happiness bubble burst by sharp tongues or abrasive words.

The doorman gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if he understood my predicament, and then resumed his military stance—feet apart, hands behind his back, chin tipped.

The clack of heels told me Geoffrey and Helen were in the lobby, to my left, heading to the reception desk.

“Check out, please,” Geoffrey said. “Suite seventeen.”

“Certainly, sir. I trust you had a pleasant stay and everything was to your satisfaction?” The Italian receptionist had spoken perfect English.

“Oh, we had a lovely time, satisfying in
every
way.” Helen giggled.

I beat down a wave of nausea and resisted ballooning my cheeks. She was even more annoying than Catherine, if that were possible.

“Darling, I’m glad you think so,” Geoffrey said in a sickeningly sweet voice that was laden with alternate meaning.

I peeked around the pillar, spotted them turned away from me, suitcases at their sides.

“How could it not be, when I’m with you,” Helen said, leaning into him in a feline-like show of possession. If she’d had scent glands she’d be coiling around his entire body, which she no doubt had, all weekend, marking him possessively. “I think I can safely say this has been the most satisfying trip of my life,” she all but purred.

“And we have many more to come.” Geoffrey
tugged her close, shut his eyes and kissed the tip of her nose.

She, too, shut her eyes. Her shoulders seemed to sag a little beneath her
trenchcoat, and she fisted his sleeves as though needing him to hold her up.

There was something so connected about that small gesture. I knew Geoffrey well—his kinks, his depraved desires and sordid fantasies—but I’d never seen that expression. It was soft and gentle, and now that he’d pulled away and was smiling down at Helen it was also deeply passionate. It was clear she was the only woman in his world now.

I supposed I hadn’t known him as well as I’d thought. Like Victor he was a switch, yet all I’d done was dominate him. That was all I’d thought I could do back then. Until Victor was brave enough to convince me to try otherwise.

“Here you are, sir. Your invoice, and the water taxi is waiting to take you to the airport.”

It took a few moments for Geoffrey to answer, and when he did, he was still looking at Helen as he took the invoice and shoved it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“I hope you will visit Hotel
Baglioni again, sir,” the receptionist said.

“Oh, yes, we will, this time next year,” Helen said with a titter in her tone.

“Absolutely,” Geoffrey replied.

So they were a long-term couple, then. They were returning next year, for the masked ball.

Geoffrey had never made plans with me for more than a few days ahead. He’d call and ask to come round to my place late at night, or send me a message to meet him in a hotel room, and occasionally a car would collect me and take me to St Albans for the weekend—once he’d had the barn built, that was. But wherever we’d been, I’d taken charge, but when we’d been apart, it had been him calling the shots. Him dictating our next pain- and-pleasure-filled liaison.

The inequality, the imbalance in our relationship
was obvious looking back, but at the time, I’d thought I’d held the reins.

How wrong I’d been. Immature and blinded by my need for control, I hadn’t taken a second to study the big picture and see it was me being controlled—again.

No wonder a shadow of discontent had followed me around from dawn till dusk. Was it any real surprise that I’d kept the worst of my shed baggage buried? Geoffrey hadn’t been the one to confess my darkness to. Sure, he’d had an idea, knew the bare bones and had shown me a way to cope, but he hadn’t helped me heal, he’d just kept me ticking along until my Victor had arrived and performed the much-needed surgical removal of my demons.

Geoffrey and Helen turned and I hid again, being careful to slide around the surface of the pillar as they made their way to the door.

“Oh, I do hope it’s sunny in London,” Helen was saying. “The drive to St Albans is always pleasant if the fog has lifted. I do love to see the sunset.”

“If
the fog hasn’t lifted,” Geoffrey said, “I know a lovely pub we can stop at—log fires, great food, fine wine. We’ll make the most of the evening, and besides…” He paused.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ll need your energy for later. There’s been a delivery to the barn while we’ve been here, something I think we’re both going to enjoy playing with for the rest of the week.”

“A delivery?”

“Oh, yes, my beautiful lady, a delivery of the wood, leather and chain sort. You can consider it an engagement present.”

“But you’ve spoilt me so much already. What with this sapphire ring and my
Murano bracelet.”

“I can spoil you if I want…”

The hotel door opened and shut with a whoosh and a click and the sound of their footsteps and voices came to an abrupt halt.

Engaged!

I should have guessed. Should have realised there was more to their relationship than met the eye. But really? Geoffrey and Helen walking down an aisle? Her in a white dress, him in a dapper suit and them swapping vows and rings before God?

I shut my eyes. Waited to see what emotions would sock me in the guts as that image grew.

After breathing deeply I then blew the air out through pursed lips. Nothing. No pain, no twist of fury or jealousy, no desire to kick or hit the wall.