A Dirty Little Deal (3 page)

My heart was pounding, my palms sweaty. She might say no. She could reject my offer, turn me down cold, even with the stick. She was strong, resisting anything that even smelled of manipulation.

"On an outing," I repeated. Wording was everything.

She considered the dress and then me. "I wondered why you were wearing black jeans. I've never seen you wear black jeans. Or a skinny tie. Or a raw silk jacket. I have to admit, you look good.

She bent down to the other bag and pulled out the shoes. Her eyes were round and bright as she looked at me. Was she piqued, a little excited even?

"What kind of an adventure are you proposing?"

"Do you trust me?"

Her eyes slitted then, her brows knitted, and she looked at me, calculating.

"With investing advice, yes. You've got a good understanding of markets. With my life? I think you would do everything in your power to save me if I were in danger. With my heart? That's a conversation we haven't had. Is that what you're asking about?"

I stared back, careful to stay relaxed, easy. "I guess it is."

"Should I trust you?"

I thought about all the time we'd spent together, all the weekends away, just us, the mornings over the paper, making breakfast, the dinners downtown.

"Yes, Tasha. You should trust me. I think it's time we made certain admissions to each other. I'll start." I met her eyes, willing her to not break contact, doubt me. "I love you."

She didn't flinch, but she didn't jump for joy either. She did adjust her stance a bit, turning toward me, opening up a little. I thought how she'd be completely open to me if things went my way tonight, how she'd groan as she begged me to have her.

"I wasn't expecting that along with this." She raised the shoes. "I always expected dinner with a starlit view and champagne."

"We can do that, too, if you want. Later."

"What are you planning, Luiz Silva?"

"An adventure you will never forget."

She didn't smile. "Exactly what kind of adventure?"

"Slumming." There. I'd said it. She could think whatever she wanted. Just let me get her there and I would deal with her reaction.

I could see her trying to put it together. But this was so far out of her league, I didn't think she could guess.

"Look in the bottom of the shoe bag."

For a long moment, I thought she would refuse, then she bent down and rifled through the tissue paper until she came up with the black domino, decorated with fine beading, the edge lined with tiny, fluffy feathers.

Considering it, she looked at me from under her eyebrows. I thought I would cream my jeans right there. Gawd, she was so beautiful. She'd be more beautiful as I forced her to open, to give in, to give over to me.

The image of her in that black outfit jerked at my cock and I was glad my jacket covered me. It was too soon to let her see how excited I was.

"Slumming? It can't be too gritty if you want me to dress like this. What then? Surely not some club down in Five Points or a biker bar." She couldn't reconcile the dress, the mask, the shoes to those scenarios either.

A smile threatened to flicker across my mouth. Let her wonder. The moment when she understood what was going on would be delicious, and dangerous, and I wasn't going to ruin it.

"So what are you offering?" she asked when she realized I wasn't going to tell her, fanning herself lightly with the domino.

And there we were. She always wanted to negotiate, to make deals.

I would make her deal that would change us forever, one way or another.

"If you'll go with me tonight, participate fully, without reservation, I'll go to the symphony with you for the season. The whole season. And I'll make a contribution to the fundraiser."

Her right eyebrow went high, a perfect arch over her darkly lined eye. "This is important to you. You hate the symphony. Do you promise to not sleep or text during the performance? Will you go to the black tie dinner?"

"Yes. I promise." I didn't look away or blink.

Her voice turned sly. "And how much of a contribution will you make?"

"I'll double whatever you give." I wanted her to understand how important this was to me. I could see her working through the dress, the mask, the concept of slumming, my symphony offer.

"And if I say no?"

I swallowed. This was the crux the whole thing hung on, the one stick that I adamantly did not want to wield.

"Then, I'll leave. I won't call you, won't see you again."

It was not what she expected. The shock made her lean back, consider everything from this new vantage. I could see she didn't know what to think. I wasn't sure if this was good or not.

"Where are we going, Luiz?"

"To the Grant Savin hotel."

It was a small boutique hotel just off downtown Denver, on Tenth.

I could see her try to parse the dress, the heels, and slumming and come up short.

"That's not enough information."

"Do you trust me?" I watched her carefully as she weighed the answer. She was scared. That was good. She was no longer on solid ground, uncertain. But that was bad. She could decide she couldn't do it.

"Why are you doing this, Luiz?"

"Because I see the potential between us. Because I want the flower that you are, that we are, to blossom. Because life is full of opportunities and this is one."

"Your mouth is opening up and words are falling out. They don't tell me anything, though."

That hurt, and she knew it.

"I mean, I'm touched that you've gone to all this effort and that you clearly think this is important. But I don't understand what you want."

"That's why I asked if you trust me. If at any time you want to leave, I will take you home, no questions asked, no recriminations."

"But it'll be over between us."

I nodded and swallowed, hoping the words would come out without a hitch. "We'll be done."

"But that isn't fair," she started.

"But it is. This is a defining moment, Tasha. Either you trust me enough to do what I think is right and good for us, or you don't."

Her need for control and her fear of losing me fought it out on her face and turned to anger.

Now I knew she might love me. My chances had gone up a little.

"Okay. I'll go, but I don't understand why you just can't tell me what you have planned."

I had suggested various things over the months we seen each other, but she was always in control, always in a totally vanilla place of comfort and appropriateness. I needed to get her in a place where she wouldn't have anything to hold on to but her trust in me and the feelings for me I had just seen on her face.

I reached out for the mask, staring, careful not to gloat as she grabbed the bags and clacked off up the stairs to change.

I watched the fuck-me heels appear as she came down the stairs, followed by her legs, looking chic and sexy in the hose, the clocked design swirling around her ankles and halfway up her calves, giving way to the pencil dress, hugging her body even better than I'd hoped.

Satin gloves pushed up over her elbows and she'd added a sparkling bracelet over her left wrist. Her hair was freshly done in a loose knot and wisps were already falling out to frame her face.

I stood, struggling with a suddenly dry mouth as she approached me. She was putting on a good show, but I could tell beneath the Audrey Hepburn cool she was unsure, not scared. Anger over me making her feel that way could boil over easily enough. So all I had to do was to keep things at good simmer and we'd be fine. I hoped.

"You look beautiful," I said huskily before kissing her. Her mouth was sweet and I got a taste of her red lipstain. She gave me back the kiss fiercely.

When we broke she said softly, "I must admit all of this has me piqued and a little excited. You better not let me down."

You could have knocked me back with a feather. This confession was not what I expected and was definitely at odds with what I saw when she came down the stairs. So maybe the straight-laced woman could be induced to loosen up a little after all.

If this had been a business deal, I would have sat back a little more comfortably. But this was Tasha. And I would have to watch for landmines and pitfalls.

"I'll do my best to show you how much I love you."

I draped a black pashmina scarf over her shoulders, took her arm, and led her out the door to my car. I wanted to get a look at her legs from behind, but that would wait. I had to adjust my hard on before I got in the car.

Chapter 3

The valet opened the door at the hotel, and I went around and handed her out of the car. She was much taller in the heels and I grinned a bit, thinking how I never thought of that when I bought the shoes. I'd manage, though, one way or the other.

The lights on the overhang reflected off her dress, making it shine. We walked across the lobby and I could feel her gait change, becoming looser, more rolling. I ached to see her from behind. I could always make her walk for me later. I steered her upstairs to the foyer of the main ballroom. That's when she got her first taste of what was waiting for us.

Tasha stared at a man wearing black leather pants and a vest over a muscular, bare chest holding a leash attached to a woman wearing an ornately jeweled collar. The collared woman's breasts pushed up wore a into a plump pillow above a red velvet corset that barely hid her nipples. A short black net skirt trailed over her torn red hose and anlke height patent leather boots.

As they passed us, she gave us a smirk. I felt Tasha hesitate and remember our deal. She straightened with a determined growl.

"I hope you have a lot of money set aside for the symphony."

I smiled. "Right now it's my favorite charity." A deal last month netted me a nice bonus and that's what had actually started me thinking about my conundrum with Tasha. That and a beer with the client's attorney, who turned out to be called Master Black in an alternate lifestyle.

Tasha and I approached the registration table. The woman handling member check-in had a shaved head. A tattoo of some Celtic looking hieroglyph took up the entire left side of her head. She also wore a rolled leather collar studded with what looked like blue topazes. Her badge read "Master Rodrick's sub".

I heard Tasha snort softly and squeezed her arm lightly. Tasha's feminist streak is wide and I thought I knew the scorn she would have for anyone putting themself in such a position. I ignored her commentary, though,and said, "Show the woman your ID, Cara Mia," I said.

"But my name is--"

"Cara Mia," I said firmly.

Smiling slightly, she pulled her ID out of her clutch and showed it to Master Rodrick's sub, who slipped it into a plastic sleeve on a lanyard, followed by a nametag before handing it to me, neatly bypassing Tasha's hand. Tasha's brows furrowed, but she said nothing.

I put the lanyard over her head, pulled the domino out of my pocket. "Allow me to put your domino on now, Cara Mia."

Her eyes locked onto mine as I fitted it to her face, then I moved behind her to tie the ribbon under the coiled mass of hair. I used a pair of the tiny clips holding her hair to secure the ribbons. It would defeat the purpose if the mask slipped off in the heat of things.

I couldn't help it, when I stepped back in front of her to view what I had created. My breath came out as a groan and I brushed my lips over hers. "You are so beautiful, Cara Mia. I am so pleased you are here."

She said nothing and gave nothing back to my kiss. Would she demand to go home, be done with me after she realized what I had planned?

I gave the woman at the desk my ID and she repeated the process, handing me a nametag that said "Mr. Twist".

"Mr. Twist?" Cara Mia asked. I could just see her arched eyebrow above the edge of the mask. I lifted my chin at a jaunty angle and lifted my own eyebrow. Taking her clutch, I slipped it into my pocket, where it made a small bulge. No matter, in a while, I would divest the jacket and the purse would be safe while we played out the evening I had arranged.

She kept looking around. Was she making like the good tourist or looking to see if she recognized anyone?

According to Master Black I would be surprised to discover who indulged in this lifestyle.

"Would you like to take a tour first or go directly to our own festivities, Cara Mia?"

"I have concerns about my reputation," she said, mounting her first line of defense.

"You have nothing to worry about here. This is like Las Vegas, Cara. What happens here, stays here."

I glanced down at Master Rodrick's sub. She nodded. "It's one of the cardinal rules of the community. Your reputation is safe from any outside scrutiny or comment. Inside, though, reputation is everything."

"A community?"

The sub nodded again, brushing a hand over her tattoo. "A very tight knit one. You are completely safe here," she repeated.

Cara Mia regarded the woman for a moment, considering her words. The "cardinal rules" got her, I knew. That and reputation. She liked discreet, too, and in her job, she was valued highly for her discretion.

She took a breath and let it out with a "hmmm" that said she was reasonably impressed, nodding at Master Rodrick's sub. "Well, then, Mr. Twist, in for a penny, in for a pound," she said, her voice low and throaty. "Lead on."