A Taste of Winter: 1 (Red Masks) (3 page)

For a long moment he sagged into her as if forgetting the
roles they played, his breath slowly settling into its former steady rhythm.

When he finally pushed himself up to sit on the side of the
bed, Alaina suddenly felt strangely at a loss, uncomfortable in his presence
despite the intimacies they’d shared.

But her body was exhausted, shutting down the doubts that
tried to wiggle into her mind.

“Thank you, my beautiful slave,” he said in a tone that
bordered on kind. “I haven’t been this satisfied in a very long time.” With a
wink and a grin, so very unlike his earlier demeanor, he rose and dressed,
giving her a last look before he left and closed the door behind him.

Alaina let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and
giggled, the girly sound surprising her in the emptiness of the room. She’d
actually done it—had mind-blowing anonymous sex with the most fascinating
stranger she’d ever met!

And if she played her cards right it might not be the last.
Gathering up the pile of her clothes from the floor, she followed the man’s
actions, hugging herself as she fished out her cell phone and called for a taxi
to take her home.

* * * * *

The next day Alaina overslept for the first time in years.
Although her body had been totally sated, she kept replaying the encounter in
her mind—searching for things she refused to put a name to, seeking answers to
questions she refused to ask. As a result she fell into a shifting slumber
where every creak was the stranger making his way to her bed, every whisper of
the sheets his voice calling out her name in pleasure.

Except he didn’t know her name. And she had no assurance at
all she would ever see or touch him again.

It was just before dawn when her body finally won the battle
with her mind and she settled into a dreamless sleep…only to be rudely awakened
by the sound of her cell phone ringing over and over and over.

“This had better be important,” she snarled, bringing it to
her ear.

“Ms. Winter? Ryan. Have I interrupted your beauty sleep?”

Oh, hell.
The amusement in his voice sent her crappy
mood into overdrive. He’d caught her slacking, the bastard.

“Mr. Marquis,” she breathed, snapping her wits together.
“How lovely of you to call.” A quick glance at the clock told her it was well
past eight a.m. Despite it being Sunday, she had a list of things she needed to
accomplish. Especially since she’d done nothing yesterday except—

Smiling despite the man on the other end of the line, Alaina
let her thoughts return to her gorgeous Master and his room of pleasure until
she heard him clear his throat.

Her good mood turned sour as she answered, “What do you
want?” She made certain her own tone dripped disapproval. Why on earth was the
man calling on a Sunday? He had never called on a Sunday, not once in all the
time she’d worked for him. Damn. Too late she remembered the LaRue House paint
job. He was surely calling to chew her out about the color.

“And a good day to you too.” Was it her imagination or did
she hear a chuckle, the man sounding pleased as hell with himself. “Tsk, tsk,
sleeping in? Did you have a late night?” His voice was huskier than normal,
sending a thrill of anticipation up her spine—a delicious wave of desire that
took her totally by surprise.

Seriously? One night of amazing sex and now every man turned
her on—even her bastard of a boss? Not that there was any mistaking the way her
heart beat faster and her palms turned moist, her throat clamping shut and
refusing to make any sound at all lest she say something stupid like how his
voice made her stomach flip.

“Miss Winter? Can you hear me? Are you still there?” Dear
God, had he always had that subtle Southern purr that rippled across her skin?

Gathering her wits before she could do anything ridiculous,
Alaina managed to clear her throat. “Yes Mr. Marquis, I can hear you. And I am
still here despite the fact I would rather be talking to the devil himself.
What new torture do you have planned for me today?” Alaina snapped her mouth
shut too late, the words already buzzing across the line in another of her
recent blatant challenges.

His bark of laughter echoed in her ear, making her tremble
in aroused response. Surely he had never laughed before. Not like that, so deep
she swore she could feel it vibrate between her legs.

“From past experience I thought you were well aware of my—needs,
shall we say?” His voice had dropped another degree into sexy. Fantasy and
reality merged as she imagined her boss whispering in her ear while his
skillful hands tied her down and began to torment every inch of her flesh until
her knees grew weak and the ache in her cunt had her screaming for…

“Miss Winter, I do hope you are paying close attention. If
you do not change the color of the LaRue House immediately I will be forced to
punish you accordingly.”

The threat sent a thrill of fear to add its impact on
Alaina’s already overstimulated imagination. Punished? She wanted to be
punished. Longed to be punished—if it led her to the heights of ecstasy she’d
experienced last night.

Then she remembered where she was and exactly who she was
talking to.

“Mr. Marquis, I assure you the LaRue House is being painted
exactly as it should be. The light green is perfect, I checked it against the
Historical Board’s guidelines myself.” Let him chew on that. “And if you intend
to levy another of your infamous fines you should know I have no intention of
paying it unless you intend to drag me to court, in which case I will call upon
the Historical District to back my choice.”

How do you like that, you pompous ass?

But before she could finish patting herself on the back, the
man chuckled once more. A soft, menacing sound that made her nipples stand up.
“You want a fight, my dear Alaina? I cannot wait to take you on.” Ryan clicked
off before she could form a suitable reply.

As pissed off as she’d ever been in her life, Alaina threw
her phone across the room, enjoying watching it crash against the wall. Fuck
the man and his legions of demands. She was through with bowing and scraping
and agreeing to his every miniscule modification, done with having her every decision
second-guessed.

The phone tried to ring, a garbled sound from the floor, but
Alaina had already headed to the shower to slough off the caress of her boss’s
voice and scrub away any lingering want in her stomach even as she remembered
over and over the seductive innuendo of his final words.

* * * * *

In his office at Marquis Development Ryan clasped his hands
behind his head, leaned back in his chair and pondered the delicious change in
Miss Alaina Winter. He’d always known she was more than she appeared and after
he’d taken her to his bed last night he’d finally unleashed her very naughty-girl
side.

But he had to be careful or he’d give the game away—and he
had no intention of losing his ice queen so soon. Not before he had another
chance to make her scream—and she did scream. His cock rose to attention as he
remembered the way she’d whimpered and begged, the way she’d closed her eyes
and clamped her legs around him when she came. And he would have another taste
of Winter before the week was through.

The thought of her round and naked ass bent across his lap,
his palm stinging from the smack of flesh against flesh while she pleaded with
him for mercy made him surly with desire, the throb between his legs growing to
a point where he could barely manage to stand and pace across the room.

His lovely employee in no way resembled any other woman he’d
fucked in the past, her cold and calm exterior more than at odds with the
heated submission he’d demanded and received. Even the glares of defiance she’d
continued to give him were enough to make his blood boil hotter.

And the way she’d spoken to him today…

With a growl of pure disgust that he could not control any
part of him at all, Ryan picked up the phone, continuing to prowl his office
like a wounded beast as he placed his order and gave the address.

Soon, Miss Winter—very soon—you will have another lesson
in obedience.

If his balls ached for the entire week so be it.

He couldn’t get the thought of her out of his mind.

While not totally illegal, Alaina’s inspection of the
property hadn’t been approved by the city or Mr. Saladar so she parked her car
a few yards down the street and strolled casually toward the rusted fence that
encircled the area, a barrage of no-trespassing signs posted along its
perimeter.

Since the fence was too high for her to climb, she settled
for wrenching a broken piece of it wide enough to slide through, pulling it
back down behind her as she turned to inspect the area. What had once been a
brick-paved drive was now pitted and strewn with weeds that had pushed up
between the blocks, crumbling them to dust in places. But she thought there
would be enough left to recycle into a new driveway and the mingling of the old
and new would be both aesthetically pleasing and a historical draw for Mr.
Saladar.

She pulled the small notebook from her bag and jotted down
her ideas as she made her way closer to the building itself.

Originally built as a bank in 1828, it had been converted
into a hospital during the Civil War and later used as an orphanage until it
had been abandoned in the seventies. Greek Revival style, it sported the
signature pointed roof above a full porch with huge round columns—although
broken and battered they still sported lovely scrolled spirals of Ionic design.
She knew a company who made excellent reproductions of the columns and jotted
down another note.

Two-storied at its core, it boasted single-level rounded
wings on either side, which gave it an ornate appearance. She could just
imagine those circular rooms filled with lush and cozy couches, a piano on one
side and perhaps an office on the other. The bedrooms would remain upstairs
with added bathrooms for modern convenience.

Although she couldn’t gain access to the interior of the
building, by scraping off some well-crusted dust and peeking through the
crumbling wood that boarded up the windows she could see that the interior of
the place was in better shape than she’d expected. No graffiti marred the walls
and there was no major water damage as far as she could tell. Still it would
have to be inspected and renovated from the foundation to the roof, a project
she found both daunting and exhilarating.

She picked her way through the remnants of what had once
been elegant flowerbeds toward the back of the building, inhaling the fragrance
of a few antique roses still blooming along the walls and setting her
imagination free as she sketched garden after garden in her pad, azalea,
bougainvillea and jasmine interspersed with huge pots of geranium to bring
splashes of vibrant red to the mix.

As was usual in Charleston the clouds and cold of the day
before had morphed into a balmy and pleasant afternoon, the sun throwing shards
of light along the garden paths and illuminating the late-blooming flowers. She
was so caught up the lure of the flowers Alaina didn’t hear the voices until
they were almost upon her—and her heart shuddered to a halt as she recognized
the clipped voice of the one man in all the world she prayed she would never
have to see again.

Oh no. He was so not here, not when she had finally come up
with a project she could keep away from his obsessive and controlling eyes.

Eyes that for some odd reason she didn’t want seeing her
makeup-free, in the worst pair of threadbare jeans she owned and a t-shirt so
washed and worn it had holes along the hem.

Crap.

Too slow on the uptake, Alaina couldn’t disappear into the
shadows quick enough, just managing to slam her dark glasses into place before
two men came angling down the path her way.

She recognized the slick of dark hair and black Italian suit
from their few previous meetings. Today he’d forgone his usual tie and collar,
a pale-blue t-shirt taking their place. One that outlined his very
well-developed chest and clung to a stomach that didn’t possess a single ounce
of fat she could see. Had he been hiding that perfect body from her all these
months or had she just been too aggravated with the man to notice?

She noticed today, a dark tingle aching between her legs,
her shoulders standing to military attention as her breasts seemed to thrust of
their own accord toward him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck
.

Trying to keep from shrieking in frustration that her body
had seemingly careened out of her control, Alaina forced herself to remain
perfectly still as the men approached and turned her attention to the stranger.
Not that it did an ounce of good. As tall and broad as Ryan, the man had on a
pair of jeans that looked as if they’d been sewn in place. If Ryan’s hair was
an inky brown, the other man’s was black as pitch, his skin tanned from hours
in the sun, a wrinkle of laugh lines framing liquid-black eyes as he turned
toward her, his face lighting up with a sinful smile.

For the briefest of instants Alaina imagined an entirely
different scene, one where these two gorgeous men grabbed her and pressed her
tight between them, every hard and demanding inch of them glued to every soft
and welcoming inch of her.

The ache between her legs grew to unbearable proportions as
her fantasy took hold, keeping her waiting with breath held in anticipation as
they angled toward her. Ryan actually smiled as he motioned her forward, his
eyes missing nothing of her dreadful attire as he studied her from top to
bottom.

“Miss Winter,” he said, reaching out to take her hand, “just
the woman we wanted to see.” To her utter shock, he didn’t shake it and let go—he
held far too long as he presented her to his companion. “Zayne, this is Alaina
Winter. Alaina, I was telling Mr. Saladar about our recent…miscommunication on
the LaRue project.”

If eyes could promise both pleasure and pain, his did at
that moment, their usual stern expression contradicted by a flicker of heat
that took her breath away. If their normal color was smoke and ashes, today he
added fire to the mix and, despite her best effort at control, her hand
trembled as he bent close enough that she could feel his breath against her
cheek.

“Zayne agrees with your choice of color,” Ryan continued,
shaking his head in admonition as he brought his mouth even closer to her ear.
“So while it would be well within my right to discipline you for the
transgression I will let you off the hook this time.”

Alaina shuddered at the dangerous sparkle of his smile.
Damn.
The man was more attractive than she’d given him credit for and his closeness
was becoming unbearable as her body tingled and tightened in response.

Refusing to cross her hands across her chest and give him
another clue to her emotions, Alaina stepped back and offered him one of her
best frowns. “The building will be finished by tomorrow evening. After that our
contract is ended if I recall correctly.”

His frown put hers to shame, the stark expression making her
want to smooth the line from between his brow and kiss away the downward turn
of his lips. Even the birds stilled their song as if they willed his smile to
return. “We will discuss your contract at a later date,” he finally said, the
frost in his tone enough to set her teeth on edge. “Today I am here with Zayne
to view this excellent property he recently purchased.”

If her heart had been pounding before now it tried to leap
from her chest as she realized she was in a prime position to speak to Mr.
Saladar about the renovation work. She stepped toward the other man and held
out her hand. “Mr. Saladar, so very pleased to meet you. Have you hired anyone
to do the restorations?”

Barely able to breathe, Alaina locked her knees into place
to keep them from buckling beneath her as he took her hand and brought it to
his lips. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Alaina. Call me
Zayne. I insist.” His smile grew as he turned to face Ryan, obviously sensing
the subtext of their earlier conversation and gathering Alaina even closer as
the other man’s jaw clenched tight. “Join me for dinner tonight and bring
whatever sketches you have hidden in your pack. I would love to see your ideas—especially
since my friend has spoken of you so highly.”

“I would be delighted. What time suits you?”

“Seven o’clock. But where should we meet? I am not familiar
with the city.” Zayne turned to Ryan. “Where do you recommend?”

Ryan was coming? Alaina’s excitement popped like an
overinflated balloon but Ryan looked overly pleased as he stuffed his hands in
his pocket and seemed to consider.

“How about the Gaston Plantation?”

Alaina stiffened in shock as he gazed at her from beneath
his lashes, unable to read a single emotion that played upon the bastard’s
face.

The Gaston Plantation! The exact same location as the Red
Mask Society. This had to be some sick cosmic coincidence, she thought,
searching frantically for a way to refuse. Or did he frequent the plantation’s
dark side?

Unable to keep images of the man looming over her in bed,
spreading her legs apart while he slid the heat of his erection deep into her
core and ground his hips hard against hers, Alaina forced herself to remain
totally still as she tried to get herself under control once more.

“I did not know the Gaston Plantation had a public
restaurant,” she mumbled at last, conscious that he’d moved a step closer and
she could smell the clean scent of his skin.

“Indeed it does,” he assured her, one side of his mouth
lifting into a decadent smile. “One of Charleston’s best-kept secrets.”

“Excellent.” Zayne clapped his hands together. “I shall have
my driver pick you up, Miss Winter, and I look forward to seeing you this
evening.” Then he took her hand once more and brought it to his lips, his eyes
dancing with mischief as he saw Ryan’s mouth thin in disapproval.

Belatedly gathering her wits, Alaina managed to smile in
return and take her leave all the while her stomach churned in restless knots.

He could not know about her erotic adventure…could he? Madame
Brisson prided herself on the anonymity of her clients and to the woman’s
credit Alaina had never once heard a word of scandal breathed about the place.
But she ran in different circles than her wealthy ex-boss, and who knew what
juicy tidbits of gossip were bandied about by the upper echelons of Charleston
society?

And if Ryan did frequent the Red Mask, was it possible she
would run into him one night, see him across the room while she waited for her
master?

And would he recognize her even behind the concealing mask?

By seven o’clock, Alaina had put together a portfolio of her
work for Zayne Saladar and had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety, soothed
only by a hot soak in the tub.

Dressing in her best career suit and highest power heels,
Alaina felt reasonably confident by the time the driver arrived. Her confidence
dwindled in direct proportion to how close she came to the Gaston Plantation.

To her immediate relief the car drove past the main
plantation house where she had spent the night before. The driver pulled around
the circular drive to a smaller building with a bustling parking lot and a
welcoming porch which held a blackboard announcing the restaurant’s daily
specials.

Several people walked through the wooden door as the driver
helped her from the car, the luscious smell of grilling meat wafting on wood
smoke curling from a chimney.

It was Ryan who greeted her in the lobby with a sardonic
smile. “Good evening, Miss Winter.” He held out his hand.

Feeling her palm grow damp with nerves, Alaina resisted the
urge to wipe hers down her skirt as she copied the gesture. What was he doing
here? “Mr. Marquis.”

“Zayne is running a bit late and asked me to keep you
company until he arrives.” He motioned to the hostess who led them to a table
in one corner before handing him the wine list. “What would you like? Red?
White? Or do you prefer champagne?”

Alaina felt her cheeks turn red as he stared at her, the
brown of his eyes glittering with an emotion she could not decipher. “Red is
fine.”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “Indeed? I thought
champagne would better suit your personality.”

“Why is that?”

“Because even the cheapest bottle of champagne can contain surprising
complexities. And because we are celebrating Zayne’s new project.”

Alaina noted he didn’t say her new job. She braved looking
him full in the face, another prickle of unexpected desire settling heavy in
her chest. It really was a good thing she wasn’t working for him any longer or
she might be in danger of developing the proverbial crush-on-the-boss
syndrome—except for the fact she had already met a man who rocked her world in
the bedroom.

She grew uncomfortable beneath Ryan’s continued scrutiny,
picking up her water glass and taking a sip to give her something to do besides
fidget—only to choke on the mouthful when he said, “Ah, they have Dom Ruinart,
a personal favorite of mine. Are you familiar with it? Miss Winter, do you need
assistance?” he added as she continued to cough and splutter.

“Uh, no. I’m fine.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Whatever you suggest.”

“Dom Ruinart it is.” Ryan closed the menu and thanked the
server for taking the order. Alaina was reminded of what Madame Manette had
stated—you could tell how a man would treat his women by the way he treated
those who brought his food and drink.

Ryan was polite but distant. Would he be as distant in the
bedroom? Or as fastidious? He was always perfectly dressed and tonight was no different.
His hair was slicked back, his shirt pristine and pressed. Hell, even his nails
were perfectly manicured.

So were your lover’s last night
, said a very naughty
voice in her mind. Filed so smooth they didn’t make a mark upon her skin.
Before she choked on another drink of water Alaina quickly shoved the images of
both men’s hands to a very secluded corner of her mind.