Unleashed (18 page)

"My God," I said when he held it out for me to see.

"You'll look gorgeous," he promised, bringing it over and laying it on the cream-colored bedspread.

"You really had me believing we were going to an S&M party," I laughed reaching out to touch the fine fabric. I'd never worn anything so beautiful in my life.

He smiled at me. "I don't disappoint." Declan returned to the closet and pulled out a large gift box wrapped with a silver bow. He handed it to me. I untied the knot, anticipation turning to an almost nauseous excitement. Pushing aside black tissue paper, I found a corset, thigh high stockings, a garter belt, and a pair of fur-lined handcuffs. They were all black to match the dress.

Declan stood behind me as I stared down into the box. He brushed my hair aside, and the scent of shampoo wafted between us. He kissed my neck. "I'll help you get it on," he whispered into my ear. I turned to face him, and he wrapped me into his arms and kissed me so that I could barely breathe. His hands moved down my back unzipping the dress I wore. Wrapping one of his big hands into my hair he used the other to unsnap my bra. Doyle moved his lips down to my neck and pulled the dress with him. I slipped out of my bra. How many times had he done this? Did I really care?

I studied his profile as he leaned away from me, reaching into the box. Declan's jaw was strong and his lips soft. The man's crooked nose saved him from being too good looking. His hair fell around his eyes as he looked down at me. Who was this guy? What was I doing here?

"Scared?" he asked.

I shot my chin into the air. "Nothing scares me," I said.

Then Declan dressed me, slowly, carefully, beautifully. Like a man who knew what he was doing.

"Go ahead and take a look at yourself," he said once he was done. 

I crossed to the wall of mirrors watching the way the dress's full skirt moved around me. My breasts were pushed up and my waist never looked so tiny. The corset was tight but I could still breath deeply. Doyle stood next to me in his tuxedo, and I couldn't believe
that
was me. He put a hand around my slim waist and I took a deep breath. "I don't look like myself," I said. But I felt very much alive. I don't know if it was the corset, or the feel of the garter against my thighs, the knowledge that those handcuffs were in Declan's pocket or what, but while I hardly recognized myself in the mirror, I knew that woman looking back at me. My gray eyes flashed silver and for a brief moment I saw something in my eyes I'd never seen before. Something darker than I'd ever admitted lurked there.

"Let me fix your hair," Declan said. He disappeared into his bathroom and came back out with a brush and bobby pins. Within minutes he'd put my hair up into some kind of loose, sexy knot. With the bruise, I almost looked like I'd just been in a fight. A sexy fight.

###

A
heavyset African American woman wearing an ankle-length black dress and a white apron opened the door. "Master Doyle," she said. "Welcome back."

"Thank you Gertrude. This is Joy Humbolt. She is my guest this evening."

"Welcome to the Biltmore Club." Gertrude said as she stepped aside. We entered a large foyer. Gertrude's small heels clicked against the black and white tile floor, and she opened a second set of doors. With Doyle's hand in the small of my back, I stepped into the Biltmore Club. A chandelier hung from a domed ceiling bathing the men in tuxedoes and women in gowns as glam as my own who filled the elegant room.

"Can I take your wrap?" A young woman wearing the same outfit as Gertrude asked, her hand held out and an expectant expression on her face.

"Yes, thank you," I said. Doyle slipped the silk wrap that matched the dress off my shoulders and passed it to her. As I scanned the room, I felt out of place.

Doyle leaned down and whispered into my ear. "You look ravishing." He placed his hand into the small of my back. Doyle's touch reminded me that this was an adventure not an audition. He steered me into the crowd toward the bar.

"Declan!" We turned as a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a clean-shaven face approached us with a grin. "How are you? It's been too long."

They shook hands heartily, both smiling. "Good to see you Brian." Doyle turned to me. "This is Joy Humbolt. Brian Cordelver. Brian is a good friend of mine. He is the head of due diligence at Fortress Global."

"It's nice to meet you," I said.

We shook hands and Brian turned back to Doyle. "How's the force treating you?"

"Fine, thanks. That's how I met this lovely lady."

I smiled.

"Robert's here," Brian said looking around. "I know he wants to talk to you. And I'm sure he'd love to meet your," he cleared his throat and let his eyes settle on me, "companion," he finished with a smile.

"I'm more a fuck buddy then a companion," I said.

He started and I smiled. Prick, I thought. Doyle laughed.

Brian cleared his throat and smiled, recovering from the shock of my words, and turned his attention back to Doyle. "Well, I'm sure Robert will find you."

"Trying to get me to come over to the other side," Declan said with a smile.

"Always man," Brian slapped Doyle on the back. "This guy," he said turning to me, "is destined for great things at Fortress Global."

I smiled.

"In a couple of years Brian," Doyle said.

"Nonsense. We want you now. With all you've already done for the firm. Come on, Declan, due diligence has never been so hot."

Doyle looked over at me and licked his lips. "I'm going to get this beauty a drink," he said.

He steered me away, and Brian turned back into the crowd of tuxedoes to find his next conversational victim. "I've heard hot things about due diligence," I joked.

Doyle laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure you have." He moved his hand off my back and squarely onto my ass as we moved through the room. I watched the faces we passed, vaguely looking for the men Mulberry had asked me to search for. I saw one and let my eyes linger on him, allowing Doyle to navigate me through the room. A waiter passed us with champagne flutes on a silver tray. Doyle saw the way I watched the elixir go by and called after the server. He grabbed me a flute, and we continued on to the bar where Doyle ordered a bourbon on the rocks. I love the taste of bourbon on a man's lips.

But how was I going to taste him? There was just no way all these people were about to strip down, pull their handcuffs out, and start fucking. There were old ladies with their hunched husbands. They were all dressed the same, but there was no way they were all down with the get down. Impossible.

As I scanned the crowd I saw another of Mulberry's men. The only way to find out why they were here was to wait. More people came up to Doyle, and we made small talk with them. I'd finished my first glass of champagne and was halfway through my second when I saw Pammy Maxim across the room. She was smiling and talking to a good-looking older man. Pammy laughed and rested her hand on the man's arm.

Her dress was full length like my own, but tighter. Or maybe she just filled it out better. She must have sensed my stare because she suddenly looked right at me. I blushed and turned away, but I knew she was going to head over.

Doyle, who'd been talking with a gentleman in a tux I would have struggled to pick out of a lineup from other middle-aged white guys, sensed my discomfort and looked down at me. I just smiled and bit my lip. He cocked his head and smiled back.

"Hey there," I heard Pammy say behind me.

Doyle looked over my head at her. "Pamela, always a pleasure to see you," he said.

I took a deep breath and turned to her. "Mrs. Maxim, you look lovely this evening."

She really did. Pamela was a couple of inches taller than me. Her bright silk blue dress was obviously expensive, as was the diamond choker that hugged her throat. "May I speak with you alone?" she asked me.

Doyle looked down at me. I shrugged. "No problem," I said.

She took my arm like we were good girlfriends on our way to the ladies room. "I'm so glad you came," she said. "I've been thinking about you ever since we met at my place." She guided me through the crowd, or did it part for us?

We arrived at the coat check, and Pammy walked behind the young woman there, who just smiled and nodded. Why was Pammy, former (perhaps still present) Mistress Pamela, taking me into the coat room? We stepped into the tight space, surrounded by the summer-weight outerwear of the wealthy. We could not help but stand close. She smelled like expensive perfume. "I just want you to give her a message for me," Pammy said, leaning even closer to me.

"What?"

"Please, just tell her that I miss her." Pammy bit her lip and looked down.

"You two were together?" I asked, guessing we were talking about Charlene.

"Did she say that?" Her eyes shot up to mine.

"Not to me. I really didn't know her that well."

Ignoring this, Pammy forged ahead. "I just—I just want her to know that I miss her. Oh God," she turned away from me and reached out, playing with the soft silk of a burgundy wrap hanging nearby. "I know she was in love with someone else. I'm not a fool." She laughed softly. "At least I never thought I was."

"Who was she in love with?"

"You didn't know either?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I don't even know if it was a man or a woman," I said.

Pammy smiled. "With Charlie you could never tell."

"Charlie?" I knew I'd heard that name before but couldn't remember where.

"Charlene's nickname," Pammy said, taking a step closer to me. There was barely an inch between us. "You really didn't know her, did you?"

"No." I could smell bourbon on her breath, and I leaned toward her. Apparently, I liked the smell of bourbon on a woman, too. That's when it hit me—Charlie was the name of the man that Joseph was rumored to be having the affair with.

"You're here to play?" Pammy asked.

"I guess," I said.

"Better decide soon," she said licking her lips before stepping away from me. Her dress swished across the polished floor as she left the coat room. I took a deep breath before following her.

I began to work my way back through the crowd to Decaln when I heard my name. "Joy?" I turned around and was face to face with Elaine. Mousey, scared of squirrels, dog- walking Elaine.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, then immediately noticed the tray of champagne flutes. "Working," I said, answering my own question.

"Yeah, Charlene got me the gig."

"You guys were pretty close huh?"

"Still are," she said with a small smile.

"You've spoken with her?" A man came up, and Elaine offered him the tray. He took two flutes and then melted back into the crowd. "If you've spoken to Charlene, you should really tell me," I said keeping my voice low.

"What? You said you hardly knew her."

"Yeah, but she is in deep shit," I said.

An older woman who was reaching for one of Elaine's glasses of champagne turned to look at me.  "Watch your language young lady," she said before turning her back on me with a harrumph.

Elaine blushed. "I can't talk now. I'm working."

"Wait, Elaine, have you talked to her?" I asked.

She started to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed her free arm.

"What are you doing?" Elaine said looking down at my hand.

"Have you spoken with her?"

Elaine glanced around. "Yes," she whispered.

"When?"

"She's fine. We've been e-mailing. I'm helping her."

"How?"

Elaine smiled. "Spreading rumors," she whispered and glanced around the room. "She wants me to make everyone believe she was with Tate Hausman."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"So that thing about the hangman's rope was made up?" Elaine shrugged. "Does Tate Hausman even play?" I raised my eyebrows so she was sure to understand what kind of "play" I meant.

"I've never seen him. He's not really that fun, you know."

"Wasn't that fun, Elaine. He
is
dead."

"Right." She bit her lip and glanced around again.

"Elaine, do you realize that rumor makes Charlene look guilty of killing him?" She ground down on her lip and seemed to go pale. "When did you get this e-mail?" I asked.

"I thought it would keep people from knowing about her and Joseph—" She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock at her slip.

"Charlene and Joseph were together?" She didn't answer. I wanted to shake her. "Elaine!" I said through clenched teeth.

"I have to get back to work. It's almost time," she said and pulled away from me.

I watch her blend into the crowd. Jumping to conclusions, I decided Charlene and Joseph were in love, planning on running away together until someone killed him and either kidnapped Charlene or sent her running for her life. Whoever that person was, they could very well be in the room tonight. I headed over to the bar. "A tequila gimlet, straight up, splash of cranberry juice, please."

The bartender needed some coaching, but he got me my drink just as Gertrude, the woman who'd met us at the door, approached me. "Miss Joy."

"Hi Gertrude." I sipped off the top of my martini glass.

"Will you please join Master Doyle in the library?"

"Sure. Where is it?"

Gertrude led me behind the bar and through a door into a hallway lit by antique wall sconces. The carpet was intricate and plush. I sipped a little more off the top of my drink ,trying not to spill it all over myself.

Gertrude opened another door and motioned for me to step through. The room was dark and I hesitated. Gertrude waved her hand at the darkness and encouraged me with a nod to enter. I stepped through. She closed the door behind me. I felt dizzy and off balance. It was pitch black. I reached my free hand out searching for the wall, and hopefully a light switch, but found only empty space.

I felt a presence, and suddenly there was an arm around my waist. "Wait," I said, but then he was kissing me. I felt tequila spill out of my glass onto my hand. A handcuff clicked around my free wrist and then he took my gimlet away. I heard the glass break on the hard wood floor.