Substitute (11 page)

Nathan’s face darkened. ‘Well, our footballers are in the suites, and you’ll be spending most of your time babysitting them, Tony, so I’m afraid you won’t have a chance to get too comfortable.’

He flashed a charming and winning smile at Tony.

‘Of course,’ said Tony, with a very slight bend of his head.

Alexia realised that Nathan was definitely the alpha dog, and he didn’t have to say much, or do much, to be the head of the pack. Just his presence, his word, that was enough.

He turned to Alexia. ‘OK, well, I’ll be having dinner with Tony and the players later. You are welcome to join us, but their company can be a little … colourful.’

‘Oh she won’t mind that will you, Alex?’ chimed Tony. ‘She’s a game girl.’

Shut up, shut up, shut up! Alexia wanted to scream at him. But the damage was done; Nathan’s eyes had grown cold and he was picking his mobile phone from his inside pocket. ‘OK, see you both at seven.’ And with that he was striding down the oak-panelled corridor that led to the suites, answering a call.

‘We’re this way,’ said Tony.

He moved to take her arm but she was furious.

‘I can manage, thank you.’

‘OK, OK.’ He raised his arms in a yielding gesture. ‘Whatever you say. I’ll see you at dinner anyway, and maybe later …’

He winked at her, then disappeared towards the bar.

Alexia collapsed into her room and threw herself onto the large bed. It was a stunning bedroom, and normally its taffeta curtains and gorgeous silks would have thrilled her, but its elegant luxury was lost on her today. Nathan had asked about Carter. “Did he hurt you?” His soft words swirled around her head, lilting, caring, caressing. “Did he hurt you?” But hot on their heels was Tony’s voice. “She’s a game girl.”

Romy had wanted to give Nathan the chance to get to know her, but now? How could that happen with Tony hovering, ruining everything? She would have to keep her distance from him, but that wouldn’t be easy; he seemed determined to make her his next conquest.

Mortification, jealousy, fear, and lust swirled in her veins in a toxic cocktail of confusion. She clutched her arms around her stomach. Sitting with Nathan in that car for two hours had forced her emotions on a collision course with her hormones. She wanted him to hold her, to kiss again. ‘Did he hurt you?’ Did he care? Why did he care? The touch of his hand on hers, such a small gesture, such a surge of feeling.

Alexia stared at the ceiling. She’d sat on her emotions, her sexuality, for an eternity. She had closed herself down for so long, but now? Pandora’s box was no longer shut. Tony’s boardroom display had knocked on the lid, Richard had prised off the lock, and Nathan … Would he open it? For a moment she thought there was a chance that he would. But she remembered the legend. When all the evils swarmed out there was one thing left at the bottom of Pandora’s box – hope. Not for Alexia. There was no hope, not with Nathan.

She felt that clutching inside her pussy again. Life was easier when she was shut off from herself. The surging in her cunt seemed to be ever-present now and it was ferocious.

Romy’s text seemed to betray a psychic insight.
Might help keep things under control.

She flung herself across the bed and grabbed her bag, fishing desperately for Romy’s secret gift. She couldn’t find it. Damn! Where was it?

She turned her bag upside down and the entire contents spilled out – make-up, purse, brush, phone, keys, tissues, umbrella, tampons – all falling onto the bed and clattering onto the floor until … There it was, nestling in its box, winking at her through its Perspex display window. A ten-speed bullet vibrator.

She tore it open, and palmed the tiny, sleek missile of sexual deliverance.

Flinging herself back on the bed, she hitched up her skirt and pulled down her panties. Romy had persuaded her to wear hold-ups instead of tights and now she was grateful. She needed to feel open, completely open. She clicked the bullet on; it was so quiet, discreet. As she felt the thrum of it in her hand she also felt wetness flood her pussy and her clit tingle in anticipation.

She parted her legs and closed her eyes. She pictured Nathan, tried to recall the masculine smell of him misted with his aftershave. She had felt the firmness of his body when he’d held her and she longed to feel it again. She tried to imagine him pressing against her as she brought the bullet down to touch her clit.

Her thigh muscles twitched at the sharp shock it gave her. Too high! She had flipped it to max speed in her haste. She turned it down and it found its way back like a homing beacon to the gathering of nerves that longed to feel its angry vibrations.

The buzz went through her from clit to core. She dipped her fingers in her wetness and rubbed the tips gently around her labia as the bullet speeded on. She pushed up the speed, a little more – then a little more.

She pictured Nathan, the way he uncoiled from the car, his long legs, long, strong thighs. She wondered how it would feel to wind her own thighs around his, naked, hot, raw.

She dug her heels into the bed, lifting her knees and arching her back. A little more – a little higher.

She imagined the muscles in his thighs flexing and tensing as he lay on her, looking down at her. Looking into her.

Her eyes flew open; even in her own imagination the sight of his eyes boring into her sent a stomach-rippling surge of shock through her.

She picked up her head and propped herself up on her elbows. She had positioned herself on the bed opposite a long wall mirror. There she was, splayed open, silver toy in her glistening, wet hand, her swollen pink labia, framed by damp blonde curls, quivering.

The sight of her own sex shocked her. She stared at it for a moment. This is what Richard saw, she thought. And the memory of his gaze before he plunged his tongue into her sent her fingers searching for the speed button. More, more, more …

Almost before she knew it the bullet was speeding at maximum again, at first so shocking, but now so thrilling. She rode the waves, desperate for release.

‘Oh God, Nathan!’ she moaned out loud as a crashing orgasm bucked her hips and she jammed the bullet against herself. The contractions ran through her, each one a small wave hitting a shallow beach, hitting the sand then raking its way back.

She lay back and threw her arms over her head, panting. She snapped the bullet off; it had done its job. It took a while for her breathing to come back to normal. She pulled her legs together and felt the wetness on her thighs.

She stood up and looked at her reflection. Not so pale now. Her face was pink and flushed. Is this my just-been-fucked-face? she thought. If only. How would she look if she had really been taken? She didn’t know; it had never really happened.

She walked into the bathroom and splashed her face with water. She had rarely felt more fragile than at this moment. She had to find some inner confidence; she had to show Tony that she was not to be toyed with and show Nathan she could do her job. Whatever else he thought of her, she would make sure he could find no fault with her work.

It was 6.15, only 45 minutes to get ready for dinner. She had just enough time to shower, and get ready to meet the players.

When she was done, she applied her make-up, lining her eyes a little more heavily than usual; a little more smokiness to bring out the blue. She arranged her hair in a loose up-do and pulled on the dress she’d brought with her for the evening. It was another Romy hand-me-down, but it was beautiful. A dark royal blue bodycon dress that skimmed her body and gave her an hourglass silhouette. Just formal enough to appear business-like, just sexy enough for dinner. She slipped her feet into her heels, applied one more swipe of lip gloss, and grabbed her key and phone. It was 6.55.

Alexia made her way down to the dining room. Guests were milling around, and many cast an admiring look as she passed them. But her focus was completely on staying serene. She was desperate not to look afraid or out of place.

She walked into the dining room and there was Nathan. Her clit still tingled from an hour ago, and the sight of him sent another rush right through her. Was it possible he looked even better than he did earlier? He had changed into a dark suit and was talking to their three Premier League clients, Iorizzo, Lopez, and Carsten, the new faces of the world’s sexiest aftershave.

They were typical top flight footballers. An Italian, an Argentinian and a German … Peacocks all. Watches that cost more than Nathan’s car and designer suits that hugged their gym-honed bodies. All finished off with hair gel, diamond ear studs, and eyebrows groomed with designer gaps.

But standing next to Nathan they looked like boys, boys who were trying too hard to impress. The body language was clear. He was the alpha in the room. He wasn’t much older than them but, despite their fame and the adulation that followed them, they were seeking
his
approval.

She heard a low, quiet whistle behind her, then felt a hand brush up her back. It sent a wave of heat up her spine that almost melted her composure.

‘You certainly scrub up nice,’ said Tony. He walked in front of her, wearing his wolfish grin.

‘Stop it!’ She almost spat the words at him.

‘You’re right, of course. This is work, absolutely, although – we might find a convenient cupboard later!’ He flashed his eyebrows, then sauntered off to join Nathan and the players.

Alexia steamed quietly. He was infuriating. She didn’t even like Tony, he was arrogant and cocky. But he had a knack of turning her on. She stood in the room, unsure what to do. Should she walk up to them, or should she wait for Nathan? No, that would be ridiculous, he was her boss.

Her turmoil must have been evident, as a beautiful, dark-skinned woman walked up to her and said, ‘Are you Nathan’s new PA?’

Alexia felt a flood of relief that someone had saved her from her very obvious isolation.

‘Yes, yes, I am.’

‘Sonia Varma,’ said the woman, extending a perfectly manicured hand. ‘Chief financial officer for the brand.’

‘Oh! Good to meet you.’

Sonia could see Alexia’s discomfort and smiled warmly. ‘Come and sit with me at dinner. The boys will be swapping stories all night. They’ll only be interested in us later, when they’re a bit more tanked!’ she said.

She escorted Alexia to a table and they sat down.

‘You been with Nathan long?’ asked Sonia.

‘No, no, just a couple of weeks, but I’m only on this trip because his PA is ill. I’m just filling in.’ Alexia realised she’d bitten her lip at the end of the sentence.

‘Don’t worry. Nathan always makes sure these things run like clockwork. You’re just window dressing, really, once all the arrangements are in place. Hotels like these never let anything go wrong.’

‘Oh good.’

Alexia exhaled, relieved to have found a safe companion for the evening. ‘Do you know Tony as well?’ she asked. ‘He’s looking after the players.’

Sonia laughed. ‘Looking after them … Well, yes he is! He’s as bad as they are, of course. They all party hard, this lot. But then that’s why he makes a good babysitter. He gets them what they want and he joins in, but he keeps it behind closed doors.’

‘Oh. I don’t think Nathan approves.’

‘Hmm. Well, he doesn’t join in, certainly.’

Alexia looked at her.

‘So many ladies have tried to land the white whale. You know all the women call him that, don’t you?’

‘I’d heard.’

‘Mmm. I think it’s partly the thrill of wanting what you can’t have. He keeps his sex life very quiet, so no one can ever use it against him or play him. Clever guy, cleverer than most. But don’t think he’s a prude. Look at him, he’s all man.’

Alexia was silent. She followed Sonia’s eyes to Nathan. He was chatting to the footballers but, as if some unseen thread had twanged between them, he looked up, straight at her. She felt a surge through her cunt and that tell-tale warmth in her pussy that betrayed approaching wetness.

Sonia was watching Nathan. ‘But then again, perhaps he likes ash blondes.’ She smiled as she swept the last word over Alexia.

Alexia flushed, wishing the aching in her loins would subside.

Sonia bent her head low and whispered, ‘If he
is
interested, are you ready for that tiger in your bed? I don’t imagine he’s the standard shag.’

The sudden intimacy of the conversation with a total stranger made Alexia’s head swim. But she didn’t correct Sonia. She didn’t deny that Nathan had shown interest. She gave the woman a half smile, then looked back at him. But his attention was now elsewhere. Looking in her direction was Tony, who appeared to be pointing her out to the footballers.

‘Oh my God!’ said Alexia, realising that she had lent voice to thought, a little too loudly.

Sonia giggled. ‘My, my. Well, if you want a fun night, you’ve certainly got your pick, but be careful –’ she tapped Alexia’s arm ‘– unless you like spit roast!’

Waiters appeared behind them, but Alexia was confused. Her eyes settled on the first plate, foie gras, then darted to the menu card. Salmon. What did Sonia mean, spit roast?

The food was exquisite, and Alexia managed to relax a little to enjoy it. The others at their table were from the sponsor’s company and the talk was general, and a little boring; about sport, and who was doing a deal with who. Then the conversation turned to who was
doing
who, which was a good deal more interesting, and shocking. In the last few weeks, Alexia had come to learn that she had entered a world where sex was used as a currency, but the frequency of exchange still shocked her.

She stole glances at Nathan but he remained deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious to her presence or proximity. But Tony was very well aware of it. He kept throwing lascivious glances as he swallowed glasses of the rich red wine.

She realised she’d been silent for most of the meal, listening to the gossip, which meant she was drinking her wine a little too quickly. The coffee arrived and she poured a cup and downed it as swiftly as its temperature allowed.

The diners rose to leave.

‘Drink at the bar?’ asked Sonia.

More alcohol would not be a good idea, but she needed company.