Club Prive Book 4

Club Privé

 
Book IV

By M.S. Parker

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 M.S. Parker

Published by M.S. Parker Romance.

This is Book 4. You should start with Book 1, 2 and 3 which you can get here:

Book 1:
http://bit.ly/clubprive1

Book 2:
http://bit.ly/clubprive2

Book 3:
http://bit.ly/clubprive3

Book 4: This book

Book 5: Coming June 6
^th

Once complete the Club Privé series will consist of 5 books in total; each book will be about 25,000 words or 120 pages – a total of 600 pages.

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A young woman missing for two years and a father claiming she'd been kidnapped. Do I even dare search for the truth?

The disappearance of a former companion, a web of deceit and lies, is leading Carrie Summers to believe that her firm's client, Howard Weiss, is up to no good. When an opportunity arises for her to investigate more deeply, it leads her to a secret that could change everything.

I
sat at my desk, frozen, my phone against my ear. I had to have misheard, right? There was no way I’d just stumbled on a former companion to Howard Weiss being missing for two years. It was like something out of a made-for-TV movie.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vinarisky. Did you say that Patricia was missing?” I hoped my voice sounded more natural to him than it did to me.

“Two years ago last month,” Frank Vinarisky said. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you didn’t know? Why would you be calling unless you knew something about her kidnapping?”

“She was kidnapped.” I made it a statement rather than a question because I had a feeling Frank would think I was patronizing him, but he still took it poorly.

“Of course she was kidnapped! My daughter is a sweet, innocent girl. She wouldn’t have run away, no matter what anyone says.” His voice was getting louder and more intense.

“I truly am sorry, sir. I didn’t know.”

“Bullshit!” Frank practically shouted the word, and I winced. “You have to know something! How did you find out about my daughter? How did you know to call me?”

“I’m sorry.” I repeated the only thing I could say. I couldn’t tell him that I’d been led to his daughter’s name through a client. I might not have been Howard’s actual attorney, but I was still a part of the law firm that represented him and I couldn’t violate attorney-client privilege, especially when it was just based on speculation.

“If you know something, you have to tell me!”

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? Sorry, sir, I found your daughter’s picture when I was researching the possibility of affairs for a rich, womanizing client. I didn’t think that would go over well.

“You tell whoever you work for that I will find out what happened to my daughter, and they’re going to pay.”

The line went dead as Mr. Vinarisky ended the call. I set down my receiver and stared at the phone for nearly a full minute. That hadn’t gone like I’d thought it would at all. A missing daughter and an angry father. Files on ordinary women who were seen in pictures with Howard, but didn’t seem to have any other sort of media presence. In this day and age, that alone was suspicious.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, calming myself. I hadn’t been afraid – no point to that on a phone call, since it wasn’t like he could’ve hurt me – but my heart was racing nonetheless and my hands were trembling. I counted to twenty, then opened my eyes. Better. I still felt a bit shaky, but I was in control.

I needed to figure out what was going on.

I went back to the stack of magazines and began to look for Patricia’s picture. I needed to know when she’d been photographed with Howard. The picture or pictures were probably in Gavin’s file, but I wanted to find my own copy. I needed a file that I knew hadn’t been tampered with. Not that I was accusing Gavin of doctoring photos. He wouldn’t do that, but I wasn’t sure I could put it past Howard to hire someone to plant false information if he’d had anything to do with Patricia’s disappearance.

It took me a few minutes, but I finally found the magazine I’d been looking for. The picture was huge, taking up half a page. The caption didn’t mention Patricia by name, but it was her. And the date of the event she’d attended had been two and a half years ago, months before she’d disappeared, according to her father.

I breathed a sigh of relief. None of these no-name women had appeared with Howard for more than a month. He’d moved on by the time she’d vanished. Maybe that was why she’d disappeared. Maybe she’d left the city because she’d been heartbroken. Her father had said she was sweet and innocent. I could only imagine what Howard’s indifference would’ve done to a girl like her. It could have been enough to make her behave contrary to her usual manner.

My eyes fell on another picture of Howard with an unnamed woman. She, too, was in the files Gavin had given me. A horrible thought struck me. What if she’d disappeared too? What if all of these no-name women had vanished after their encounters with Howard? They weren’t celebrities. Only their families would miss them – if they even had families – and who would take a distraught father seriously? I could hear the police telling parent after parent that their twenty-something daughters were just out having fun, that there was no reason to suspect foul play. With so many obviously violent crimes to solve, these missing girls would just get shoved aside.

What did it mean if more of these women were missing? I leaned back in my chair. Did that lead directly to Howard, or could it be a bizarre coincidence? And what about Gavin? What was his role in all of this?

As always, when I thought of him, the image of his face floated through my mind. The way his eyes darkened when he was aroused. The smile that wasn’t slick and charming, but boyish and sweet.

No. I shook my head. No, he wouldn’t be involved in anything so shady. I was speculating rather than letting actual evidence lead me to a conclusion. I wasn’t a detective. I was a lawyer. I had to go where the facts led me, and the fact was, Gavin wasn’t stupid. Why would he give me a file on Patricia if he knew anything about her disappearance? That wouldn’t make any sense. If I was going to accuse anyone of anything, I would need a hell of a lot more proof than what I had here.

I closed the files and put everything into a nice, neat stack. I had a report to type and I had to include only facts, not speculation. I pulled up my program, sat with my fingers on the keyboard for a moment, and then began to type. As uneasy as I felt about Howard, I had to be honest and conclude that there was no evidence of infidelity. If I hadn’t found receipts or records about any of these women, celebrities or otherwise, I doubted Howard’s soon-to-be-ex-wife would be able to find anything either. I wrote out all of my findings and conclusions, sent a copy to the printer, and emailed the file to Mimi. I really hoped this case closed quickly. I was tired of researching Howard Weiss.

My head was starting to hurt. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I had far too much going on in my head at the moment. The initial disappointment when Gavin had to cancel our plans, then the excitement of him asking me to come with him to Miami. Then his titillating conversation, which had been interrupted by Frank Vinarisky. That had thrown a whole other set of emotions and thoughts into play. And now a missing girl.

I was starting to miss my boring old life.

I opened my eyes again. I may have finished my report for Mimi, but I wasn’t done with those files of Gavin’s. I needed to find out more about Patricia’s disappearance. It could lead nowhere, or it could lead back to Howard, but it didn’t matter. I just needed to know what had happened to her. Part of it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. Vinarisky and how much pain had been in his voice, but another part was just who I was. One of the reasons I’d wanted to become a lawyer was because, eventually, I wanted to be able to take on cases for victims and families of missing and exploited women. The cause had always been close to my heart, and Patricia’s disappearance was striking a chord with me. I might not be a lawyer yet, but I could still investigate and see if I could find something.

I just needed a better place to start than Frank
Vinarisky’s
phone rant, or even Gavin’s file. I needed to know about the actual disappearance, and that meant police records. If the case was still open, there was no way I could get to them short of a subpoena, but I didn’t have anything close to enough evidence to make that kind of request, even if I had been a lawyer. I frowned. How could I get those files?

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. It was crazy, but it just might work. I picked up my phone and crossed my fingers.

It was getting late, and I knew Gavin had to get up early to leave for Miami first thing tomorrow morning, so when my phone rang, I wasn’t expecting it to be him. My heart did a funny little skipping thing when I saw his name and I wasn’t able to keep the eagerness out of my voice when I answered.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” Gavin sounded amused. “I just wanted to call to give you the details about tomorrow.”

“Details?” I’d just assumed he’d have a ticket waiting for me for the evening flight to Miami. That was how Mimi usually did her business flights for clients.

“You didn’t think I was going to have you fly commercial, did you?” His tone was teasing.

“I-I,” I stammered, unsure how to answer the question.

“I figured as much.” He was enjoying this far too much. “No, Carrie, that’s not how I do things.”

“Okay then,” I countered. “How do you do things?”

“Well, the first thing you need to know is that you’ll be taking a private jet.”

It wasn’t like I didn’t think he could afford it, but that wasn’t cheap. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to impress me or bragging. I didn’t really like either one.

“And you’ll be coming directly from work. I have a limo scheduled to pick you up after work and take you to the plane.”

“Gavin, you don’t have to–”

“I know,” he cut off my protest. “I want to do this. The earliest commercial flight available after work wouldn’t be until nine o’clock, and I don’t want to miss any more time with you than I have to.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

“Now, I’ve also arranged for you to take an extra hour on your lunch break tomorrow for you to go shopping.”

“Excuse me?” The private jet was one thing, but I hadn’t expected something out of a Hollywood-hooker montage.

“Saturday evening is a very exclusive party, even more exclusive than the gala, and I want you to outshine every person there.” His voice lowered. “Not that I don’t think you’d be the most beautiful woman there no matter what you were wearing.”

“I can wear the same dress I wore to the gala,” I protested.

“Many of the same people will be there, and you can’t wear the same dress twice to events like these. This is my gift to you, Carrie,” he said. “Don’t pack anything. I want you to buy everything new. Bathing suit. Casual clothes. A dress for Saturday night. Lingerie.”

The last word made my stomach twist. I’d never been much of a fancy lingerie kind of girl, but what he’d bought me before had whetted my appetite for it. Still, I couldn’t accept. “I can’t let you buy me clothes for an entire weekend.”

“If you won’t let me do it for you, then will you do it for me?” he asked. “I love seeing you in beautiful, expensive things. And I love taking them off of you even more.”

I closed my eyes. Shit. He knew how to say the right things to get my thoughts going in a lower direction.

“I’ll be sending a driver – just a car, not a limo – at noon. He’ll take you to a boutique where I have an account. They’ve already been told you’re coming and that you can have anything you want.”

I was getting flashes of a certain long-legged red-headed prostitute making her way through high-priced Beverly Hills stores. It didn’t help with my recurring feelings of having my “services” bought and paid for.

“These are gifts, Carrie, not payment.” Gavin displayed his uncanny knack for knowing what I was thinking. “If I had less money, maybe I’d only be able to buy you a pretty dress, but I have the money. Let me buy you these things.”

“Okay.” I let out the word in a breath, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision.

“You should take Krissy with you. Make it a fun little excursion. I cleared that with Mimi too, just in case. And make sure Krissy gets something for herself, too.”

I wasn’t sure if that made me feel more or less like a hooker.

“Speaking of clothes.” Gavin’s voice changed into something deeper, more authoritative, the kind of voice that made me instantly wet. “What are you wearing right now?”

“Pajamas,” I answered automatically, not really thinking about what I was saying or why.

“Describe them to me.”

A thrill went through me. I knew where this was going. “Give me a minute,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’m in the living room. Let me get to my room.”

“No.”

I froze mid-step. He couldn’t be serious.

“Is Krissy in the living room with you?”

“No,” I squeaked. My face flamed at the sound. “She pulled an all-nighter last night. She’s already asleep.”

“Good. Put on your Bluetooth and sit down on the couch, feet on the floor.”

I had a choice here. I could either pretend I was doing what he wanted and head back to my room to continue what I was sure would be a fantastic conversation, or I could follow his instructions to the letter.

I went back to the couch and positioned myself accordingly. I put my headset in my ear and set my phone down on the seat next to me. My heart was thudding so loudly that I was sure Gavin would be able to hear it.

“Now, describe what you’re wearing.”

I looked down at my very unsexy outfit. Again, I chose the truth rather than a lie. “Gray sweatpants, and an oversized, light pink t-shirt.”

“Bra and panties?”

My face grew hotter even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “No.”

He chuckled and I shivered as the sound caressed my skin. “I want you to do exactly what I say.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes, shutting out the living room around me. If I was going to be able to get through this, I needed to stay in my head, and I couldn’t do that staring at the blank television screen.

“Slide your hands under your shirt and play with your tits.”

I bit my bottom lip as I did what he said. My hands moved under my shirt, fingers squeezing and teasing.

“Pull and twist your nipples until they’re standing up.”

I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. I began to roll my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Each time I tugged on them, little jolts of pleasure went through me and I could feel myself growing wetter with each passing moment.

“The thought of you playing with those beautiful breasts turns me on.” Gavin’s voice had an edge to it that I recognized. That was the sound he made when I touched him. “Are your nipples hard?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I could picture him in my mind’s eye. He’d be completely clothed, sitting in a chair. His pants would be open, his thick, swollen cock in his hand. It was too big for me to get my hand around it, but his hands were bigger. He’d move his fist up and down over the silky flesh, each stroke making him harder than before.

“Good. Keep one hand working your nipples and slide the other one into your pants. Down between your legs.”

I spread my legs further apart as my fingers skimmed over my sensitive flesh.

“Touch yourself,” he said. “Rub your clit. Plunge your fingers into your wet pussy.”

I moaned when my index finger brushed over my clit. I’d touched myself before, of course, but never with someone telling me what to do. It was different.

“I want you to think about me when you’re fucking yourself.” His breathing was growing ragged. “Imagine that it’s me touching you, fucking you. My fingers inside you.”

I slid my middle two fingers into my pussy and whimpered. I was tight.

“Stretching you, getting you ready for my cock.”

The heel of my hand rubbed against my clit as my fingers moved in and out.

“I’m thinking about you,” he said. “Imagining that I’m thrusting into that tight heat, feeling you grip me like a glove.”

“Yes,” I moaned the word. The pressure was building inside me, growing with each stroke of my fingers, each twist and tug to my nipples.

“There are so many ways I want to take you.”

I could hear the strain in his voice and knew he was getting closer. I moved the hand between my legs faster. I wanted to come with him.

“Up against the wall in an elevator so that when the doors open, everyone will see your clothes disheveled and know what we were doing.”

My teeth fastened on my bottom lip. If he kept going, I didn’t know if I’d be able to stay quiet.

“In a hot bubble bath. In the backseat of a car at a drive-in like a couple of horny teenagers.”

Each phrase flashed an image behind my eyelids and pushed me that much closer to my release.

“Bent over the back of a chair. Stretched out on a Persian rug in front of a roaring fire. On a blanket in a forest clearing.” He groaned. “So many places and ways I want to fuck you.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Please. Please.” I didn’t know if I was begging for him to follow through or for him to keep talking so I could climax.

“I want to kiss every inch of you. Taste you on my tongue. Mark your body with my mouth.”

I moaned. I wanted that too. I wanted him to do that to me and I wanted to do it in return to him. I could almost taste him, feel the weight of his cock in my mouth.

“How many fingers?”

I almost didn’t register his question. As it was, it took me a moment to answer. “Two.”

“Add another.”

I didn’t even hesitate, and the moment my index finger squeezed in next to the other two, that last little bit of stimulation was enough to tip me over the edge. I yanked my shirt up to my mouth and bit down on it, the material stifling my cries as my body shook. I heard Gavin cry out my name and knew that he’d come too. The picture of him holding himself, cum spilling over his fingers, was enough to send another ripple of pleasure over me.

We sat in relative silence, the only sound our heavy breathing as we began to come down. After a moment, Gavin broke it.

“The next time we do that, I want to see you.”

I didn’t argue. That sounded like a pretty good idea to me.