Collateral Damage (17 page)

"Out?"
What the hell does that mean?
"Out where?"

"You're awfully stupid for a teacher. Where does a man usually bring a woman wearing a dress like this?"

"You're insane if you think I'm going on a date with you."

"I am seriously considering letting Mitch cut out your tongue like he wanted to."

Cyrus tapped his chin with his fingers. "His eye's all better now, in case you wondered."

"I didn't."

"Oh,
feisty
. I was starting to wonder what Vince saw in you." He strolled back to the closet and plucked out a small, black boutique bag. "I've arranged a pleasant evening for the two of you. Spared no expense. So get dressed, say thank you, and then join him outside."

We can leave. Which means . . . .
No. Just in case, it would be better not to let my thoughts stray to the possibilities. I slid off the bed, approaching the dress while keeping a distance from Cyrus. "Thank you."

"Good girl." He smirked when I froze and ground my teeth. "Now lose the robe."

I wrapped my arms around myself and shook my head. "Please let me get changed alone."

Rolling his eyes, he tossed me the little black bag. "You're starting to irritate me.

Modesty? I had my dick in your ass just the other night—much to your enjoyment, mind you. If you keep this up, I may forget about your dinner reservations and ream you until dawn." He cocked his head. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

The bag slipped from my fingers as heat flooded my cheeks and spilled into my core. "I—"

"Some other time, my dear." Slipping behind me, he took hold of the edges of the robe and eased it from my grasp. "You've earned tonight, and so has Vince. Just let me see how beautiful you look in what I picked out, and I will let you go."

Let me go?
Why, oh why, did that not sound as good as it should? But clarity had returned, and I simply nodded. The robe fell to the floor. I hurried to fish the gold . . .

strings? . . . from the bag. A crotchless thong. More adornment than anything else. I pulled it on.

Cyrus took the dress off its hanger and delicately rolled it up in his hands so he could ease it over my head. He adjusted the bodice, fondling my breasts until I was pressing back against him, mindlessly needy.

He nipped my earlobe and then chuckled. "I like playing dress up with you, Nicole."

Right then, I knew nothing about me was safe from him. Not my mind or my body. Both were his to toy with whenever he chose to.

And I had a feeling he wanted me to know this. I pulled away from him, relieved that he allowed it, and focused on the dress.

An embroidered, rich, gold flower spread out from beneath my left breast and blossomed over my chest. Gold petals and leaves were scattered around the transparent waist and spilled alongside the slit in the pale gold, chiffon skirt. The slit went up to mid-thigh on my left leg, and the ruffled bottom of the skirt trailed around my bare feet.

Not a princess dress, but a dress a wealthy man might choose for eye candy he'd acquired.

I drank in every breathtaking inch and began to feel a little excited about the night ahead. Being away from here with Vince—what more could I ask for?

Reason reared its ugly head.
How about a few answers?

"I love the dress, Cyrus, I really do." I pressed my lips together and inhaled.

You've warmed him up! Just go for it!
"But I really need to know—"

"They were eliminated before Vince started cutting you." Cyrus dropped several things on the top of the dresser and then thrust a pair of strappy, gold sandals at me.

"You're boring me. Get out of here before I find a way to entertain myself. I'm thinking blood, DP, and butt plugs. In no particular order."

Nodding, I grabbed the sandals, gathered the trinkets from the dresser top, and then darted out the door. I'd pressed my luck, and I was quite done, thank you very much.

Besides, Vince and I needed to have a little talk.

* * * * *

A few steps from the front door, my confidence wavered. Leaving the house gave me the same unstable feeling I got just after a session with Vince when he released me from my restraints. The freedom frightened me. I almost didn't want it.

But my head was clear enough to fight past the odd sensation and force my body to keep moving. Before my feet hit the gravel walkway, I realized they were bare and stopped to put on the sandals. But my hands were still full of jewelry and hair pins.

Flustered, I looked around for a safe place to put them down.

"Let me." Vince took the stair in a single stride and then held out his hand for the sandals. "You look lovely, by the way."

I pressed my eyes shut as he took a knee and slid first one, then the other, sandal on my feet. In a jet black suit and tie, he was the very image of every woman's dream date. And acting all gallant on top of it. I'd already come too close to letting this become my new reality. If I didn't hold back a little, I would lose myself entirely. I'd end up just like Lacy.

He loves me and that's all that matters,
I could almost hear myself telling another girl, just like me.
I'm special to him. I would do anything to make him happy.

When I opened my eyes, Vince was glaring up at me. "I don't love you, so don't worry about it."

Wow.
I stared at him as I straightened my skirts.
Way to ruin the moment.

"What moment?" His lips drew into a thin smile as he straightened. "You might as well voice your thoughts, Nicole. I expect honesty, and if I catch you being otherwise with me, things will not go well."

"This is supposed to be a pleasant evening." I ignored his proffered arm and headed for the sleek, black Lincoln idling in front of the house. "Considering what's already happened between us, I don't think honesty would be a good idea."

Suddenly at my side, he grabbed my arm and wrenched me around to face him.

"I think it's an excellent idea. Cyrus and I may be interchangeable to you, but he's given you to me—at least until he decides to take you back. So long as you are mine, you will obey and not delude yourself into believing there is more to this. There's no need for you to fear losing yourself because I don't want you."

I twisted my arm from his grasp and practically spit in his face. "You could have fooled me. The expression on your face when you saw me with Cyrus and Darryl wasn't one of a man who doesn't care."

He laughed. "You poor, clueless, little thing. Do you think I felt betrayed?"

Hugging myself, I gave him a jerky nod.

"Cyrus wanted you warm and willing in his bed. He used his powers to make it so. You have no choice in any of this."

"But I have a choice with you!"

"Are you sure about that?"

Was I? I tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth and bowed my head. And couldn't doubt it. Not for a second. Not without Cyrus forcing me to.

Vince took my hesitation as an answer and scoffed. "There we go. As long as we both know where we stand—"

"I'm sure." I fidgeted with my skirts, feeling like I'd thrown myself naked at his feet even though I hadn't budged. "And you know it's true." I gazed up at him, jaw clenched, speaking through my teeth. "Now, how about some honesty from you? Look me in the eyes, and tell me you don't care."

He shook his head, reached for the passenger side door handle, missed, then made a gruff sound in his throat as he finally caught it and threw the door open. "Just get in the car."

Chapter Fifteen

Vince and I followed the waitress to our table in the fancy restaurant, arm in arm like a normal couple, pulling off a decent act of being a happy pair. I beamed when the waitress complimented my dress. Vince said all the words a doting lover should.

As soon as she left us, we drew apart.

Vince pulled out a chair.

I pretended not to notice and moved to take another.

"Sit. Here." He caught my hand and pressed his thumb into my palm hard enough to hurt. "You're trying my patience."

"And you're attracting attention I don't think you want." I jutted my chin up, blinking past the sting in my eyes. "This is supposed to be my prize."

"Yes." He arched a brow. "From Cyrus. But he's not here, is he?"

He wasn't, but I almost wished he was. Vince was a lot nicer with Cyrus looming. I swallowed and glanced down at his hand. "You're hurting me."

As if he didn't know.

The pressure eased away. Refusing to meet my eyes, he lightly stroked my palm.

"I'm sorry."

His apology left me dumbfounded. I spoke without thinking. "What's wrong with you?"

"I feel like I've lost control of you. You question everything I say." He released my hand and rubbed his brow. "No. That's no excuse. Of course you question . . . you didn't ask to be here."

"Neither did you." I mirrored his raised brow, my lips curved in a small smile.

"But we are—were . . .
uck
, you know what I mean. We've been let out of our cage for a little while—how about we
don't
act like we're still in it."

The suggestion smoothed the creases around his eyes and lips. His earthy eyes took on a light glow. "That's an excellent idea—though, you're the only one who's been

'let out.' I am free to come and go as I choose."

"Are you?" I sat down, rested my forearms on the table, and clasped my hands together as he took the seat across from me. "So, what do you do when you're not with Cyrus? Do you have a job somewhere? Do you travel?"

"I work for Cyrus."

"Doing what exactly?"

The waitress returned with our drinks. Brandy for me. Lager for him. "Are you ready to order, sir?"

Vince gaze snapped up. "Sir? Why not ma'am? Do you assume I'll order for us both?"

Her pink, powdered cheeks dropped a couple of shades. "I'm—I-I didn't mean—"

"The lady will order for herself." He looked at me. "What do you want?"

I stared at Vince, lips clamped shut, doing my best not to laugh. When I finally pulled myself together, I waved the poor waitress away. "Give us a few minutes."

A few of the tables had quieted around us. Men and women dressed like they were going to shows or big elaborate parties leaned close and spoke low. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I had a feeling Vince could. A red flush spread from the curve of his jaw to the edge of his sharp cheekbones.

He loosened his tie a bit and scowled at the menu. "So what do you want?"

"I'm in the mood to try the blind tasting." I folded my ankles and the menu.

Waited a few beats. Then made a vague motion towards his menu. "And you?"

He shrugged and dropped his menu on top of mine. "The blind tasting sounds interesting. I'll try that as well."

"Do you want me to order?"

"I'm sure the waitress would appreciate that."

She did. And I had a feeling she'd make sure we were served as quickly as possible. Quality assured, of course, but she probably hoped we wouldn't linger.

"Timid thing." Vince said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, watching the waitress walk away. "But fit. And a brunette. Cyrus would like her."

My stomach flipped, and all the tantalizing scents from the tables around us made me want to puke. I covered my lips with my fingers and shook my head. "Don't do that, Vince. Please, please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Window shop for Cyrus." I took a deep breath and leaned over the breadbasket, fingers curled into the ivory tablecloth. "Is that what you do for him?"

"Window shop?" He let out a soft, cold laugh. "No. He scouts for talent and beauty alone. I am but one of many guards who are given samples now and then."

"Ah." My throat constricted as though his words were a noose pulled taut around my neck. "How often do you . . . sample?"

"Whenever Cyrus tells me to." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "This is a business. Being part of it gives me a few perks."

I took a sip of brandy. "I don't believe you."

"Really?" He gave me a half-smile. "You should."

For some reason, he seemed to be trying to change my opinion of him. To push me away? And, if so, for my benefit, or his?

The waitress served the hors d'oeuvres, glanced at me, and then hurried off when I nodded. I shifted my gaze from Vince to the silver platter she'd set on the table between us.

"Oh, Crostini! With—" I picked up one of the artistically topped, grilled baguette slices and sank my teeth into it. "Prosciutto, goat cheese, and fig jam." My eyes rolled back into my head as the flavors burst in my mouth, a mini-orgasm on my tongue. "Oh, God, you have to try this."

He chuckled and reached across the table to catch a dollop of jam that had escaped my lips and settled on my chin. "I've never seen you this enthusiastic about food. Maybe I should try it." He stuck his jam-smeared finger in his mouth.

Then grabbed his beer and took a hearty gulp of the dark liquid.

"I take it you don't like it?" I asked, taking another.

"No, but I shouldn't be surprised you do, considering your passion for peanut butter and jam sandwiches." He grinned at me over the lip of his mug. "Is this the fancy alternative?"

"You could say that." I licked the creamy cheese off my lips and picked up my brandy. "Actually, I love food. All different kinds, but I'm picky about where and when I eat." Before he could comment, I shrugged and tipped my glass towards him. "What about you? What do you like?"

"Steak. Extra rare." He roared out a laugh when my jaw dropped. "We're going to have a chat about what you think you know, one of these days. But to answer your question, I like buffalo wings."

"And beer."
Hmm. Typical man?
"Sports?"

"I have no patience for television."

"So what do you do?" I sighed at his blank look. "For
fun.
"

He drummed his fingers on the table, his brows drawn together as though he had to consider his words carefully. "I go camping."

"Camping?" Well, that was unexpected. I hadn't taken Vince for the outdoorsy sort. "Just on Cyrus' land or—?"