Reynolds closes in as Marcus reasserts control over Bobbi.
Reynolds didn’t immediately respond to Helen’s question. He was too busy studying her. He’d spared me a brief glance, but I guess whatever reaction he expected from me was underwhelming.
“Well,” he said at last, “The way I see it, I’ve got two bodies.”
He held up a finger. “One dies of a heart attack. Makes sense. He’s old. Even people in decent shape develop heart problems. Case closed.”
A second finger went up. “Then I get another found hung in his hotel room. Rajesh Desai. He’s young… good looking. Beloved philanthropist. This guy has a lot going on and not much reason to kill himself.”
He watched us, letting that thought hang in the air.
Then he shrugged. “Still, can’t argue with the facts. No signs of struggle. Toxicology report comes back negative. Seems clear cut.”
He rubbed his chin, slipping into a lazy Columbo impression. “But then something just doesn’t sit right with me. Something here.”
He tapped his gut. Then he gave Helen a sardonic little smile.
“And I have to hand it to the NYPD… some of the people I work with are top-notch! The coroner who examined Desai also thought it was a little off. Do either of you know what Livor Mortis is?”
“Yes,” Helen said at the same moment I said, “No.”
“It’s the placement of blood in the body at the time of death,” Helen said.
Reynolds jabbed a finger at her. “Bingo.
“Our coroner found something a little off with the lividity in Desai’s body, so he did a little more digging. One of the things he noticed was myocardial cell damage around the left ventricle. He got some samples under a microscope, and sure enough… early-stage necrosis.”
“Meaning?” I asked. I hated biology.
“Meaning,” Reynolds responded, turning to me, “That Rajesh Desai didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered.”
Yeah… I knew where he was going with this.
“That got me wondering… what did your grandpa’s heart look like before he died?”
A clever little smile played across his lips. He was enjoying the hell out of this. He and Henry Psalter would’ve loved each other.
“So I pulled his medical records. Turns out that the man had no record of heart problems. No family history either.” He glanced at me. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Uh… thanks?”
“Can you get to the point?” Helen asked, her jaw set.
“I accidentally picked up something interesting while I was in your house the other day. A small glass tube with a clear liquid inside. I thought I’d do you a favor and have it analyzed.”
He shrugged. “They haven’t gotten back to me yet, but I’d be willing to bet a small fortune that there might be something in that little vial that isn’t great for the heart.”
He glanced between us, unable to hide his smug expression.
“And that,” he said, “is why I’m asking where Mr. Upton was the night his grandfather may have been poisoned, Mrs. VanCamp.”
Fuck.
Even I might’ve been tempted to convict me on the spot.
My brain scrambled, trying to remember exactly what I’d been doing on July ninth. What day was that?
I did a bit of quick math in my head—Tuesday, maybe?
Had that been the evening I went grocery shopping, prepping for Jessica’s visit?
“So,” Helen said, cutting through my spiraling thoughts, “to summarize… you have a hunch, an incomplete toxicology report, possible evidence that exists outside a legitimate chain of custody, and two deaths with no confirmed connection to my client other than vague proximity?”
She looked completely unfazed.
And that was why I wasn’t a judge… or a lawyer.
“Your client’s already been in several questionable circumstances,” Reynolds pointed out.
“Such as?”
“There are all kinds of rumors about what happened to him in Vegas. Some kind of shootout on a rooftop? Then he vanishes for a week before finally resurfacing?”
Reynolds tsked. “Seems suspicious.”
“That’s all you have,” Helen confirmed. “Suspicion and speculation, and for some strange reason, instead of going to the DA with this information, you decided to have some kind of Holmesian revelation on a private rooftop without any kind of warrant or formal request?”
Reynolds didn’t even blink. “Where’s Roger VanCamp?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“As far as anyone can tell, your husband has been missing since mid-August,” he said. “You’re his wife. Do you know where he is?”
In his underwear, about four floors below you, in desperate need of dental work, I thought.
Fuck, this guy was good.
“Detective Reynolds, if you have something concrete, submit it, but if you’re only here to pressure my client without charges, you’re toeing a very dangerous, career-ending line.”
He ignored her and looked at me; his cool gray eyes felt like they were piercing my soul.
“You all think you can just do whatever you want… that there won’t be consequences.”
There was no heat to his words. He might as well have been talking about the weather.
“I didn’t—”
“Sir!” Helen snapped, cutting me off.
“Yeah,” Reynolds said. “You did, and proving it isn’t an ‘if’. It’s a ‘when.’”
His gaze flicked to the bottle beside me.
“Macallan Rare Cask?” he asked. “Nice. Enjoy it while you can.”
Movement near the gardens caught my eye, and I saw Emiko emerge from the greenery, Bobbi trailing behind her.
“Oh good,” Helen said. “Miss Nanford is here. Please perform your wellness check and then leave. This was incredibly unprofessional, and I promise you that we will be speaking to your superiors.”
Reynolds shrugged, seemingly unaffected.
He watched the two ladies approach.
“Miss Nanfor,” he said. “Nice to see you again.”
Bobbi’s eyes flicked from him to Helen, then to me—clearly alarmed.
“Yeah,” she said, staring him down, “Well, go zip-tie your scroat ‘til it turns blue and your balls fall off for all I care.”
“Always a delight,” Reynolds said, his expression tightening. “Are they treating you well?”
Bobbi glanced around, made deliberate eye contact with both Helen and me, then turned back to the detective with the most obnoxious smile I’d ever seen.
“I’m like a fucking princess here. I bathe in wagyu milk, have my own movie theater, and eat those really tiny tasty birds by the truckload.”
“Aren’t those illegal?” Reynolds asked.
“Fucking arrest me for not being a tree-hugging fucktard like you,” she said, holding her wrists up as if inviting him to handcuff her.
Reynolds stared at them as if he was considering it. Then he shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, ma’am, but I’ll pass.”
“Will there be anything else, officer?” Helen asked, her tone clearly telling him to fuck off.
Instead of answering, he looked at me. “Well? Is there anything else?”
It was less a question and more a challenge… like he was daring me to confess on the spot.
I simply shook my head and took a sip of my whiskey.
And he just stared at me.
“Next time I visit,” he finally said, “It’ll be with a warrant for your arrest.”
“John,” Helen said. “Would you please escort Detective Reynolds back to the first-floor lobby?”
“Yes, ma’am,” John replied.
Reynolds gave each of us a parting nod, then turned and followed him toward the elevators.
The four of us stood in silence, watching the doors slide shut behind them.
I glanced at Bobbi. “Wagyu milk?”
Bobbi blinked up at me and rolled one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. She seemed meeker now than she had a few moments ago.
“That’s the beef, right? There’s gotta be milk, right?”
I looked at Emiko.
“Wagyu milk is real,” she confirmed. “It’s very expensive. If that was what the girl was trying to imply, she did well.”
That Emiko used ‘the girl’ instead of Bobbi’s name didn’t go unnoticed. I’d not seen the two of them interact much, and it was interesting to pick up on the little things in their dynamic.
Bobbi actually looked down at the ground and smiled as a light blush touched her cheeks.
How did Helen and Emiko both do it?
Then I noticed the black cord dangling from Emiko’s fingers. It was something that hadn’t been there during Reynolds’s visit.
“May I?” I asked, holding out my hand.
Without a word, Emiko passed it to me. A length of cord—strange in texture—with a flat magnetic end like a refrigerator magnet.
I tossed that end at Bobbi, and it all but snapped to the collar around her throat, turning the cord into a leash.
“Come on,” I said, tugging gently.
Bobbi stepped away from Emiko and fell in behind me as I turned toward the far side of the rooftop, the open space beyond the pool.
“We should talk about what just happened,” Helen called out.
“Yeah,” I said, not breaking stride. “Just give me a few minutes. Meet me by the couch.”
I gestured toward the same spot where Chloe and I had talked that night before I decided what to do with the Tanakas. Recalling our easy conversation, in which she confided that Charity was the most bangable in my entourage, brought a small smile to my lips.
A steady breeze blew across the rooftop—it wasn’t strong, but it was ever-present. I slid the sleeves of my hoodie over my palms and gripped them, then zipped my jacket a little more. It was one of those weird days when it was too warm for a coat, and too cool without one.
Soon, rooftop gatherings like this would be impossible unless I added a fire pit. That sounded nice. Crackling flames. A grill. Music. Everyone huddled close. Maybe a few of us sneaking off to the hot tub for...
I glanced at Bobbi, behind and to the right of me. We were approaching the edge of the building, and her grey eyes were scanning the horizon. Strands of golden brown hair caught in the breeze, lapping at her cheeks. She brushed at a few, tucking them behind an ear.
And once again, I was struck by how beautiful she was.
Not only that, but how at ease she seemed when she didn’t realize she was being watched. If I didn’t know better, I could’ve sworn that I saw a ghost of a smile cross her lips, gone so quickly that I wasn’t even sure if I’d imagined it.
She hugged her arms to her chest, and that’s when I realized she didn’t have sleeves on her shirt. Gooseflesh rippled across her bare skin.
“Here,” I said, unzipping my jacket.
That one word seemed to pull her out of her reverie, and she looked at me, startled.
I pulled off my hoodie. “You’re cold.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are,” I said. “Don’t argue with me.”
“I’m not—” she started, before I tugged on the leash, pulling her stumbling the remaining few feet toward me. She reached out and placed a hand on my chest to catch herself, and I gripped her arms. Her skin felt like soft sandpaper under my touch.
Gooseflesh.
I narrowed my eyes. “Stop being stupid and put on the jacket before I beat your ass for being a stubborn brat.”
She looked up at me, those big slate-gray eyes full of mostly fear, resentment… and the faintest flicker of desire for me to follow through.
“Thought you got enough of that last night,” I snorted, calling her out on her unspoken bluff.
“You think I’m that easy to break?” she growled.
While huddled against me, I took my hoodie and draped it over her shoulders.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Just because—”
“Just because,” I said, yanking the leash again, dragging her toward the building’s edge, “you talk a lot of shit doesn’t mean any of it matters.”
I shoved her against the cold stone and metal and stepped next to her. One hand braced against the wall beside her head as I leaned in slowly.
Still toying with the collar and leash, I continued, “You’re bringing me the toys I punish you with, and for someone who insists she’s not a lesbian, you’re getting awfully good at eating pussy.”
“You make me!” she insisted, her chin raising in defiance that was much more effective a month ago.
“None of us made you do anything to Jess last night. That was all you.”
After Detective Reynolds visited us the first time, Bobbi asked us if she could have someone to dominate. She’d wanted Erin or Natashya, but I shut that down.
Still, I wanted to honor her request as best I could. Part of it was because Bobbi had demonstrated loyalty to us, even if only to keep her lifestyle from changing. She could have made my life difficult. I knew that, and she knew that.
Besides, I was curious.
Curious how she’d react to holding Helen’s role… if only for a night.
So I brought Jess in for a trial run.
Neither of them had been thrilled by the match… that is, until Bobbi made Jessica eat her out.
A small taste, and Bobbi was hooked on being in control. She’d gone feral, and it had taken time and effort to harness that passion and temper it into something that we could all enjoy.
All except for Jessica.
Oh, she’d gotten off several times over the course of the night, but it had been figuratively and literally painful.
“You went down on her like she was the only canteen left in the desert.”
“Helen—”
I clamped my fingers around Bobbi’s neck, cutting off her words. “Your Mistress didn’t tell you to do it. I certainly didn’t tell you to do it. You did it because pussy starts to taste pretty good when you make a woman scream enough.”
“And what about down here?” I asked, sliding my fingers into the waist of her leggings. They brushed over her baby smooth mons—not because she shaved or waxed. It was because I’d had her pubes surgically removed using state-of-the-art laser treatment.
“You certainly aren’t hairless because you wanted it,” I growled, leaning in close. Her breath came out in a strained little wheeze, and I could feel it mingle with mine—short, shallow bursts of musky aroma that smelled all too familiar. I’d kissed and fucked Bobbi enough times to recognize her scent anywhere.
I brushed the tip of my finger against the edge of her hooded clit, feeling something slick coat it.
Perpetually wet. That was Bobbi Nanford.
Sliding my hand back out of her pants, I placed my palm flat on her belly and caressed it with my thumb.
“And this?” I asked.
I could feel her swallow under my grip.
“It’s about that time of the month, isn’t it?”
Bobbi didn’t answer. Arousal and stubborn pride danced through the fear-painted halls of my submissive’s eyes.
“How many times did I cum in you last night, kitten?”
Still no answer.
I leaned in and kissed that generous mouth, tasting her perfectly pink lips.
And she let me.
Without resistance. There was no return… just the weight of my mouth on hers. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t lean in either.
She simply allowed it.
“Of course, you’re broken,” I whispered against her lips after ending the kiss. “You’re going to do whatever I tell you. You’re going dress and take care of yourself how I want you to.”
I pressed my body back against hers, pinning her to the railing, and breathed, “And you’re going to have my baby.”
I kissed her again, my mouth rough on hers, my tongue invasive. There was nothing gentle, loving, or caring. It was full of passion and lust.
I didn’t love Bobbi.
But I wanted her.
I wanted to put my child in her and bind her to me more tightly than ever.
And I made sure our kiss sent exactly that message. This was her life now. I was her life now.
Finally, I ended the kiss and pulled back, slow and deliberate, leaving Bobbi breathless and flat-footed, her defiance tamped down to dull red cinders.
I guess I had my own way of handling Bobbi.
I looked her over. Even clothed, I knew her body well enough to envision every inch of it.
“Go back to your room, kitten. Helen will be by later to take care of you.”
She stared at me, her thighs pressed together, a sure sign she needed a good dicking.
And then she left.
Without argument… not even a defiant glare.
Hands clenched at her sides, head bowed, she power-walked away, my hoodie still draped over her shoulders. Her hair fell across her face like a curtain, hiding her face from view.
Sighing and shoving my hands in my pockets, I made my way back around the pool and toward the couch where Emiko and Helen were. The housekeeper was standing, hands clasped in front of her like she so often had them. Helen had taken the liberty of sitting on the couch. Both had been watching us.
As I approached, Helen said, “That was quite the display.”
“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head, “I can’t decide whether I hate her or enjoy her.”
“Oh come now,” Helen said, “We both know you enjoy her first, and then you hate her.”
“Post-nut clarity?”
Helen smirked.
I let out a hearty laugh and dropped onto the couch beside her.
She gave me a few moments to settle down, watching me with a small smile, still amused at her own joke.
Then she said, “We need to talk about Detective Reynolds.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. Then looked at Helen. “Does he actually have a leg to stand on?”
“Technically, no,” Helen said, leaning back into the couch and settling in. She twisted toward me, lounging between the armrest and the cushions, one knee pulled close to her chest, her hand resting on it. In her other hand, she gently swirled a half-full glass of white wine.
“Technically?” I asked.
“The right judge might not see his evidence as circumstantial… or perhaps they’re corrupt, and someone is pulling their strings.”
“That’s not likely, though, right?”
Helen nodded, taking a sip from her glass. “Correct. Reynolds’ case is textbook. If a judge does back him, once we’ve cleared your name, you’d have every right to press charges, and we would have his or her career.”
Satisfied, I nodded and reached for Helen’s wine glass. She gave it up without a fight. Emiko took it as a cue to bring us a second glass.
“I am worried, though,” Helen mused.
“Why?”
“His behavior,” she said. “Coming here and making vague threats gains him nothing. I can’t understand why he’d do it.”
I shrugged. “Maybe he thought I’d cave and confess? Or that Bobbi might come around?”
Helen took back her wine and sipped it thoughtfully.
Emiko returned with another glass and handed it to me.
“Thanks, Emiko,” I said, accepting it.
“My pleasure,” Emiko said, remaining standing.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked, patting the empty space beside me.
“Thank you, but no, sir,” she said, giving me an ingratiating smile. “Not while I’m on duty.”
“Some other time, then,” I said. “How’s Roger?”
“Roger is well,” Emiko said. “Do you want me to schedule a dental appointment for him?”
Helen looked up at that, clearly curious why her husband needed dental work.
“Nope,” I said, placing a hand on Helen’s bare foot and drawing it into my lap. “He can take care of it after I’m done with him. Until then, he can just be careful when he eats.”
I started to massage her foot, pressing my thumb into the arch. Her sole felt smooth and well cared for… firmer than the rest of her, but no less meticulously well-groomed. She clearly gave even this part of herself careful attention.
I’d never paid much attention to her feet before, but her toes were elegant—lean and perfectly proportioned, just like the rest of her. I’d never been much of a foot guy, but as I watched her toes curl under my touch, I suddenly felt the urge to nibble on them.
Was there anything about this woman’s physicality that wasn’t perfect?
“Has he said anything?” I asked, glancing back up at Emiko.
I caught her watching as I worked on Helen’s foot, her eyes lingering. I wondered what she was thinking. Would she ever be a participant in our perversions, or was she simply meant to facilitate?
I hoped it was the former. Emiko was too gorgeous to go untouched.
I ground Helen’s heel into my lap, letting the pressure stoke the fantasy brewing in the recesses of my mind—Emiko and Helen, in the hot tub with me. Slippery skin… tangled legs… not a scrap of clothing anywhere to be found.
Emiko’s gaze rose to meet mine. “I wouldn’t know, sir. I only take care of the apartment and ensure the men have everything they need. Miss Tanner or Mr. Psalter will know if he’s said anything useful.”
Helen let out a little groan as the ball of my thumb dug into the middle of her foot. Her head dropped onto the back of the couch, and her eyes fluttered shut.
“Thanks, Emiko,” I said, unable to hide my smile. Watching the Ice Queen melt under my hands never got old. “That’ll be all. But I’d like to talk to you sometime this weekend. I have some ideas I have for the building. Can you set aside time for tomorrow?”
“I’d wait till Sunday,” Helen groaned, her eyes still closed.
“Why?”
“You’re going to need a day to recover from the party tonight.”
That piqued my interest… and raised a red flag. “Have you ever been?”
“No,” she murmured, relaxed, “But I know someone who has. He needed the weekend to recover—a lot of drugs… a lot of alcohol. No sleep.”
“Sounds… intense.”
“Not my cup of tea.”
Emiko bowed her head slightly. “Lunch on Sunday?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Another nod. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I have Jessica to attend to.”
She took three steps back before turning and slipping toward the garden. I watched her go, savoring the way her blue silk dress clung to her curves with every step.
“I can’t really blame you.”
I looked back at Helen and caught her watching me, one eye cracked open, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh, good,” I said, squeezing along the sides of her foot. “So, it’s not just me.”
“Most definitely not,” Helen cooed, arching her back, her breasts straining against her blouse.
She sank deeper into the cushions, gaze lazy and heavy-lidded. “Although… if anyone could chew us up and spit us out, it would be that woman.”
She nodded at Emiko as the housekeeper reached the garden and glided out of sight.
I tracked her until she disappeared, still watching the spot she’d vanished moments after.
“Not sure that I would mind getting eaten alive by her,” I said.
Helen chuckled. “I’m not sure we’d be sane afterward.”
I shifted, moving between her legs and setting her foot aside, my hands on her thighs. “We managed with Bobbi. I’m sure we could do the same with her.”
Helen arched a cool eyebrow at me. “She’s no Bobbi.”
“No doubt. I like Emiko.”
She chuckled softly.
“But I don’t want to talk about Emiko right now,” I said. “I want to talk about Roger.”
Helen’s demeanor shifted, becoming cooler, more reserved. “What about him?”
“What should I do with him?”
“He’s your prisoner, Sir. You should—”
“No,” I said. “No ‘Sir’... not right now. I’m Marcus, and we’re talking about your husband, Helen, who put you through hell. If you could do anything to him…”
“I wouldn’t do anything.”
“You’ve forgiven him?” I asked.
“God, no!” Helen blurted. “He means nothing to me. He lost me. I’m yours now. What happened in the past led me here, and I’m grateful for that. Hating the path that brought me here seems counterintuitive.”
“So, you don’t forgive him. You just…”
“I don’t care about him. I don’t want revenge. I don’t want closure. I want to keep moving forward, and frankly, I don’t have the time to think about him.”
Helen had a point. If not for Roger, she wouldn’t have come into my life. That went for Erin, too. The idea that in some small part, I owed Roger anything made my stomach turn, but it was hard to argue with.
“So you’re telling me that you don’t want to inflict any sort of punishment on him? You don’t want to see him go through any kind of pain?”
Helen hesitated.
Then a quiet little grin curled at the corners of her mouth.
“Well… perhaps a little,” she admitted.
“There it is,” I said, reaching for the clasp on her pants. I undid it, hooked my fingers in the hem, and dragged them over her hips.
She didn’t move at first. As I tried to pull her pants down, they caught on the curve of her ass where she sat. I gave them another tug.
A couple of heartbeats passed before she gave me a slow, half-smile, then lifted her hips just enough, letting me draw her pants and panties down her thighs.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face as I dropped prone on my stomach, my face hovering over petals that were already glistening.
“What’s this?” she asked.
I wrapped my hands over the tops of her thighs, urging them to stay parted. “Lie back. You chased off the detective and have been working so hard... I think you’ve earned a little pampering.”
I ran a finger through her pussy lips, picking up on the subtle squelch of her moist sex.
“You’re still married to him, by the way. We need to fix that.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sir.
Now that I knew Helen was emotionally okay with Roger’s return, order had been restored, and she was no longer Helen the woman anymore. She was Helen—my property.
“You’ll take care of it?” I asked, meeting her ice-blue stare.
The tip of her tongue slowly slid between her lips, wetting them as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from my gaze.
“Good.”
Without another word, I dipped my tongue between her pussy lips and delved deep.
“Oh, fuck,” Helen moaned, writhing as she got into a more comfortable position. One reached between her legs, and her fingers slid through my hair, gingerly, more like a lover’s caress than a woman simply seeking an orgasm.
Helen’s tang on my tongue was as much a homecoming as it was arousing. In many ways, she was just as comforting and familiar as Erin, if for slightly different reasons. If pressed, I’d probably admit that I was in love with my assistant, and who could blame me? She was brilliant, sexy, funny… and she seemed to reciprocate some of those feelings.
Helen, though…
Those first steps of my journey down this strange path had been taken with her by my side. She’d taught me… nurtured me. She stuck by me even when I hadn’t trusted her. In some ways, she’d protected me as much as Chloe, but from very different threats. While I wasn’t sure I could call what we had love, there was true affection there. Only, it wasn’t simply sexual. There was something maternal in the way she cared for me.
Helen VanCamp—the fearsome blonde who could make women scream in pain and sob with pleasure… and then stroke my hair like a mother comforting her son.
Technically, she was old enough to be just that.
And it all added up to something that felt so forbidden… so potent.
Her hand slid to the back of my head, and she gently pressed. I got the message and sucked harder at her sex, tongue swirling around the soft, spongy entrance of her pussy, savoring every flutter and tremble.
My lips slid up her sex and captured her clit between them, and I pursed them together and flicked my tongue over the sensitive bud.
“Ungh!” She cried out, her torso seizing and causing her body to sit halfway up.
“Oh, Marcus… you can’t dooooooOOOO!”
I sucked harder, rising to my knees as I planted a hand in the center of her chest and shoved. She crashed back onto the couch, breath torn from her throat in a long, feral groan.
A long groan escaped her mouth. Her fingers further into my hair, anchoring me in place to ensure that I finished what I started.
Then her back suddenly rocketed off the couch in a graceful arch as she gave a loud, shuddering moan that lasted through what sounded like an incredibly satisfying orgasm. Her grip on my hair went from firm to painful in a flash as her thighs clamped around my head.
I welcomed it. My hands found her ass, fingers digging into those toned cheeks as I kept up the assault. If she wanted to trap me there, she’d suffer for it. I wasn’t backing off until she was practically begging me to stop.
Eventually, she did. Her legs fell open. Her grip slackened, then pulled—trying to lift me off her. She knew me too well. Knew I didn’t stop until my lovers had tears in their eyes.
And that’s when I noticed that her cries were muffled.
I looked up and paused, mid-stroke of my tongue, to see Erin leaning over the older blonde, their lips sealed in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. I could see their tongue moving hungrily across each other.
Fuck, it was beautiful.
Now that I was done, Helen dropped bonelessly underneath Erin, panting into her mouth.
Meanwhile, I contented myself with drawing lazy kisses along her thighs and lapping the juices lazily off her pussy as I watched the two of them kiss.
Finally, they separated, leaving Helen limp and breathless.
Erin looked at me, licked her lips clean, then grinned. “Hey, boss.”
“What are you doing here?” I grinned back.
She leaned in and kissed me, her tongue sweeping across my lips to gather the remnants of Helen. She swiped at my chin, the corners of my mouth… my cheeks. She let out a throaty moan as her tongue circled my lips one more time, then pulled back, looking satisfied.
“Came out here to talk about tonight, but then I got distracted.”
I leaned back down and planted a kiss on Helen’s thigh. She let out a little grunt, but otherwise remained relatively comatose.
I slid out from between her legs and sat on my knees, considering my options as I looked at my secretary. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Chloe said you’re taking her instead of me, and I just wanted to make sure.”
“Why? Wanting to go?”
“I’ve heard the Wyns can get wild. Feels like a missed opportunity.
“Chloe is insisting I take her,” I sighed. “Astrid wants me to bring Natalie. Helen thinks I should bring you.”
“Bring all of us?” Erin offered.
“I wish, but I think I only get two—a guest and an attendant.”
“Damn.” Erin pouted, then shifted forward, resting her hands on my thighs. That devious little smile pulled at her lips, but my eyes drifted lower… to the cleavage spilling into view from her loose blouse.
“Maybe,” she said, voice dropping, “we can come up with a solution.”
I did my best to drag my eyes from one lovely sight to another—her liquid, dark eyes.
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “What did you have in mind?”
*****
Friday, October 10th, 6:33 pm
My helicopter touched down on the helipad of the private dock. The front co-pilot door popped open as Jon stepped out of the chopper and opened the passenger door.
“Sir?” He called out.
I stepped onto the pavement, wearing a formal tux, polished wingtips, cufflinks… the works.
“Thanks, Jon!” I called out and stepped aside to make room for the other two passengers. I held out my hand, and slender fingers slipped into mine.
The lovely, slender form of my assistant appeared in the doorway. She almost looked like royalty as she descended the steps.
Her backless dress fell to her ankles, sleeveless, gathered at the shoulders. The back swooped daringly low—just shy of showing the top of her ass. Strappy heels, a matching clutch, and her silver hair half-pulled back in soft, layered curls completed the look.
She gave me a small, grateful smile as her fingers slipped free of mine.
Then I turned, offering my hand again… for my date.
French-tipped nails slid into my palm, and Natalie stepped into view, breaking into a grin as she descended.
Compared to her, Erin’s dress was conservative.
Natalie wore a deep red number with thin straps barely containing the plunge of fabric over her generous tits. The dress hugged her waist, flared slightly, then skimmed close down her thighs. Her hair was piled atop her head in a charcoal cascade, baring the rich caramel skin of her neck and tempting me to kiss it.
John came out of the helicopter as soon as Natalie and I cleared it and then shut the door. Then all five of us left the helicopter behind us as we made our way toward the nearby private dock.
I glanced back at Natalie to see her still staring at me, all smiles. Her eyes hadn’t left me since I helped her off the helicopter. I suspected that she was a little star-struck by the idea of her super-wealthy boyfriend whisking her away to a rich people’s party.
“You look gorgeous!” She said at a reasonable decibel as we left the helicopter in our wake.
“Nope,” I said. “You don’t get to use that word on me. That’s only reserved for you. You’re the gorgeous one. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you on my arm.”
And that was God’s honest truth. Natalie and I hadn’t seen each other much in the last few days, and her… everything was just… stunning.
I kissed her hand, and she gave a little squeal, squeezing my palm. “I can’t believe we’re doing this! Marcus, were you able to find out what we’re going to be doing?”
“Hey, guys?” Erin said before I had a chance to respond.
On the docks, a small group of people waited. A few of them were watching us, while the rest were gazing out at the ocean, where an oncoming boat that looked like it might hold about twenty people was approaching the docks. Counting the three of us, I guessed there were roughly twenty people on the dock.
Parked near the docks were a couple of vehicles still idling, possibly where more waited for their ride to approach.
“I guess that’s some of the party-goers?” I suggested.
“And that boat is supposed to take us to an island.”
“Ugh,” I said. “I didn’t know there was going to be an island. Why didn’t anyone know about that?”
Erin looked back at me. “I think they only bought it a couple of years ago. This might be the first year they’ve hosted their super cool party out there. Maybe the second? Is it a problem?”
I started walking toward the docks again, passing one of the limos. “It’s just a little isolating. I don’t really like the idea of going there without proper security. Maybe I made a mistake, not keeping Chloe.”
Suddenly, the limo car door next to us opened, and Astrid stepped out into the evening. Her fine hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore a tuxedo that mirrored mine—except where I had wingtips, she wore stilettos that added three extra inches of height.
It was weirdly hot, in an androgynous kind of way.
She beamed at me and said, “You’ve nothing to worry about, Marcus. I promise.”
We all came to a halt.
“Astrid,” I said in greeting. “Didn’t you say that about our trip out to your family cabin?”
She gave me a smirk that might’ve sent me running if I weren’t still a little worried she could tank my deal with the Tanakas.
“I don’t make the same mistake twice, dear,” she said.
And I was starting to wonder if I was about to do exactly that—make the same mistake twice.
“I can’t take my security?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not,” she said. “But these parties have been going on for over a decade. If they weren’t safe, the Wyns wouldn’t still be hosting them.”
I turned to Jon and John. “Okay, guys. I guess this is where we part ways.”
They’d be with the chopper, which would be on standby, just in case.
Chloe had hated the decision, but it was mine to make. She’d settled for keeping security nearby, with more Hannon personnel en route. She also reminded me I had a tracker embedded, so she’d know my location at all times.
She also reminded me that I had a tracker in me, so she would know where I was at all times.
I didn’t have any serious fears that I was in danger, but after the Norway incident, I didn’t think I could be too cautious.
The guys nodded, knowing what they were supposed to do, but they didn’t move. They weren’t leaving until they absolutely had to.
“So cautious,” Astrid said, sounding almost bored. “It might be unattractive if I hadn’t already seen what you’re capable of.”
I felt Natalie stiffen at the overt flirtation, but she didn’t say anything.
“Flirting in front of your date?” I asked. “That’s rude.”
Then I glanced at the limo’s open door.
“Where is your date, anyway?”
“Oh, where are my manners?” Astrid said, stepping aside.
And out stepped the last person I expected.
A woman, stunning in an understated cream dress with a deep V that plunged nearly to her navel, baring her sternum and the delicate inner curve of her breasts.