Eighty Days Blue (31 page)

I was halfway to Victor's deadline and my thoughts were a mass of confusion. The dull thud pulsing in my temples wouldn't go away.

I wanted to cry, but couldn't even find the energy to do so.

‘It's me.'

‘I was expecting your call.' I could almost see the smirk spreading across his handsome face.

‘How clever of you.'

‘Well?'

‘Well . . .' My throat tightened as I attempted to take control of my feelings, not allow him further satisfaction from hearing the strangled sounds I was trying to force out.

‘Get to the point, Summer,' Victor said. ‘It's an easy choice: is it yes, or is it no? Come on.'

‘The photos will be deleted, no copies made?'

‘Yes. You have my word.'

‘That's just it. Can I really trust you?'

‘You'll just have to, won't you?'

‘I suppose so.'

‘So that means yes, does it?'

I sighed. ‘And . . . once it's over, you'll never bother me again. You will leave me alone. No longer be a part of my life?'

‘If that's what you want.'

‘It is. Absolutely.'

‘Fine.'

I still couldn't get myself to say the fatal word and kept on trying to draw things out. ‘And no cameras this time, no phones or anything?'

‘Of course.'

Did I have a choice? This or throwing away my musical career and no doubt Dominik in the process.

‘Anyway,' Victor said, ‘I plan to have you masked for the occasion.'

‘How tacky.'

‘Not at all, my dear. Don't we all like rituals? You will look splendid. Black, of course, unless you have other colour preferences.'

I had a sudden vision of the woman in the cage back in New Orleans. I wasn't even sure whether she had in fact been wearing a mask, but Victor's throwaway mention of ritual conjured the memory and I felt a familiar twinge in my stomach.

‘Whatever,' I blurted out.

‘So we have an agreement?' Victor asked.

‘We do.' My heart fell.

‘Perfect.'

It would be the one night, one of the many thousands I would now be totally free to enjoy on my own terms, I
told
myself. One night. And it would just be my body, not my mind or my heart. I would lock those away for the few hours it would take, away from Victor's evil thoughts and the gaze of strangers, keep them pure. Sadly, I knew all too well that the body quickly heals and shame leaves no traces, on the outside at least. Just the one, final adventure and then I would be free and in control of my life again. Surely not too much of a price to pay. Or would it be?

‘When?' I asked.

He laughed. ‘Are you in such a hurry?'

‘No. Just want to get it over with,' I replied.

‘In that case, you will have to moderate your enthusiasm for a little. I will let you know.'

‘Oh . . .'

I'd hoped that it could all take place before Dominik's return. That it would be a thing of the past, as so many other things I had concealed from him, by the time we were together again.

‘I will be in touch, Summer,' Victor declared.

‘Please—'

‘Oh, don't worry, I will be the absolute soul of discretion,' he added, then hung up.

All I could do now was wait.

Dominik set his luggage down and walked towards me. I'd been sitting waiting on the couch, wearing one of his shirts, the charcoal-blue Ralph Lauren one he liked me to sleep in whenever it had been too cold to sleep naked. I also had on a pair of white cotton knickers I'd bought the day before at Gap. Demure, almost innocent.

‘You're back,' he said, the kindest of smiles transforming the ambient sadness of his face.

‘Yes, the tour is over. Nothing on the horizon for months now,' I said.

‘Wonderful.'

I rose to kiss him.

His lips were soft but dry. I licked them, immersing myself again in the feeling of his physical presence, his heat, his smell.

His eyes X-rayed me, full of unformulated questions I had no wish to answer right now.

‘Welcome back,' I said.

‘You too.'

His hand drifted to my shoulder, pulled me firmly against him. I opened my mouth, but his fingers flew towards his own, intimating I should not speak a word further.

‘Shhhh.'

That familiar sensation raced through my stomach. Memories of all the silences we had shared. The silence that always followed the music. An unforced ritual that had become specifically ours. The Dominik I knew was back, and he didn't want to know anything about the past. All that mattered was the ‘now', us together in this room, the rest of the world shut out.

Holding me tight against him, our hearts beating in unison and just a few inches apart, his other hand moved upwards and firmly grabbed my hair in his fist. Pulled. My head moved back, following the angle of his movement, baring my throat. He approached his mouth and, with his lips, pinched the taut skin and pulled on it. I shuddered. Then his lips let go and his teeth delicately bit into the skin, not quite piercing it, testing its pliancy. At the back of my mind, I wondered if this was how a cannibal would rip out
my
throat, or whether the vampire Dominik might have metamorphosed into while I had been travelling would feed on my blood. My legs wobbled.

I knew his teeth would leave marks on my neck. His mark.

He lingered there, as if hesitant about biting me fully, cutting sharply into the skin and drawing blood, or just eating me in one swift, violent movement, feasting on me.

He finally released his hold on my hair and, with one swift action, tore the shirt off my chest, sending some of the buttons flying across the loft's wooden floor.

Standing there, facing him, almost naked, I had a sudden impulse to fall down to my knees, unzip his black trousers, pull out his hard cock and impale my throat on it until I felt like gagging, play the slut I always wanted to be for him. Instead, I waited, eager to see what he would do next.

Dominik circled me and, with another pat on my shoulder, indicated for me to spin on my heels until I faced the back of the orange sofa. Then he bent me over and deliberately pulled my knickers down, leaving them bunched round my ankles. A finger tested me. In both holes. He moved my legs apart and suddenly entered me raw, his path made easier by my copious wetness. I welcomed the way his cock filled me, fitted me like a hard glove.

Right now, there was no need for ropes, restraints, ball gags, toys, though I hoped he'd have some of that in store for another occasion. All I wanted was the steadfast movement of his cock inside me, the sound of his breath as his pleasure mounted, and the feel of his balls against my buttocks every time he reached my depths.

It was New York and autumn was now approaching and
Dominik
was inside me and the music of his movements punctuated the rough way his fingers toyed with my arse cheeks. At that moment, I was happy. No thoughts of tomorrow. Or yesterday.

Would that time could stand still and this never change.

12

Joining the Waltz

Summer would hate this, Dominik thought, as he entered the building that Victor had arranged for the event and surveyed its interior.

The surroundings were sumptuous, and garishly so. It would likely have cost a fortune, even for one night, though perhaps it belonged to a wealthy member of his circle of acquaintances.

The building was an imposing mansion overlooking the Hudson in an area of Manhattan he had seldom ventured into, a millionaires' row known only to the few, carpeted entirely in red in a manner that imitated royalty but only managed to be macabre, like a building in some old horror film in which all of the floors had been splashed with blood.

Ornate gold-framed mirrors lined either side of the hallway, creating an illusion of width. Dominik could see himself reflected from every angle, an unwelcome vision that made him hurry to get out of the corridor as quickly as possible.

He walked up the flight of steps at the end of the hall, which veered off in two different directions at the top with no sign notifying the guests which way they should turn. Dominik chose the left-hand path.

The door opened before he had a chance to raise his hand to the old-fashioned knocker. A young woman stood
on
the threshold and beckoned him inside with a graceful sweep of her hand.

She was dressed in a blood-red lingerie set, the same colour as the carpet. Rather than covering her breasts and genitals, the small pieces of fabric merely framed them, the G-string open at the crotch and the bra just a triangle with her small breasts poking through. Her brown hair was pinned up, and resting on top of her chignon was a tall red feather, which had the effect of elongating her so she looked like a very feminine giraffe. She carried a silver tray, which looked too heavy for her slight arm to hold. On top of the tray rested several rows of shot glasses.

She held the tray out to Dominik.

‘No, thank you,' he said politely. ‘I don't drink.'

‘Oh, no,' replied the woman. ‘It's not alcohol; it's chocolate. The ancient Aztecs believed chocolate to be one of the strongest aphrodisiacs, you know.'

‘Well, if you put it like that, it would be rude not to.'

He was surprised to find that the sweet liquid was also warm, as if taken from a pot of chocolate that had been melted on the stove. There was a slight bite to it, a little chilli and nutmeg, he thought.

‘Delicious, thank you.'

She inclined her head in a slight nod in response.

The house was palatial, Dominik noted, looking around at the vast expanse of the area in which he now found himself.

He was pleased to see that the carpet did not run the full length of the room, but just the outside, creating a border round the central dance floor. There was in fact a couple dancing the waltz on the wooden floor, though no music was playing.

Dominik recognised them as Edward and Clarissa, the couple who had hosted the event involving Miranda. Clarissa was also dressed to match the carpet, in a floor-length red gown with a white lace ruff like a Victorian queen. He began to suspect that Victor had given out some wardrobe instructions to the other guests that he had not provided to Dominik.

Edward was dressed in full wartime regalia and looked like a military hero, or a despot, depending on your point of view.

Dominik headed for the long table at the end of the room, which was set up with champagne in buckets, rows and rows of champagne flutes, large bunches of grapes and mango cut into pieces resting on wooden platters, and even an ice sculpture, a plump cupid aiming an arrow directly into the room. Not the god of romance as many people thought, Dominik mused, but rather the god of erotic love, filling the victims of his arrows with uncontrollable desire.

He had to stifle a laugh when he noticed the chocolate fountain, probably a past gift from a well-meaning aunt who had no idea that it would end up a centrepiece at this sort of party. So that was how they kept the chocolate warm. He'd been beginning to think that Victor was some sort of magician.

‘Having a good evening?'

Dominik turned to see a Japanese woman wearing a white corset delicately patterned with tiny red flowers. In any other circumstance, he would have found the pattern appealing, but in these surroundings it made him imagine that the woman had been recently shot in the side.

‘Yes, thank you. So far at least – I've just arrived.'

‘Have you been to Victor's parties before?'

‘Just the once, but it was a more informal occasion. Nothing like this.'

She picked up a glass and leaned over the table to find a bottle, exposing part of her breast and a pale-brown nipple as she did so.

‘Allow me.'

Dominik took the bottle from her and tilted it, pouring the fizzy liquid into her glass slowly so that it wouldn't bubble over.

‘Thank you. Won't you have a toast with me?'

‘Not unless I can find a soft drink. I don't normally drink.'

He resolved to stop explaining himself. Why did people seem so perplexed by his choice to avoid alcohol? As if a person couldn't have any fun at all if they weren't leathered.

‘Probably wise in these sorts of situations.'

Dominik frowned, hunting with his eyes for an alternative. Not a party of teetotallers, judging from the beverages on offer. By the time he turned back, his companion had been swept away into the crowd by a man wearing a pair of black and gold rubber shorts and a wrestler's mask. Dominik watched the man's muscled back ripple as he walked and felt a brief pang of envy. Perhaps he ought to take up running, as Lauralynn had suggested, or at least make some sort of return to the athleticism of his university days.

Not that Summer seemed in the slightest interested when he gained or lost a pound. He doubted that she even noticed.

Edward interrupted his flow of thought. ‘I think we've met before, but I'm not sure that we were formally introduced. You were at Victor's last little soirée, I believe?'

‘Yes, Clarissa and Edward, isn't it? I'm Dominik.'

‘Call me Ed, please. Only Victor calls me Edward, and Clarissa when she wants to wind me up. As you can see, Victor enjoys maintaining a certain theatricality.'

Ed plucked a grape from one of the platters, dipped it into the chocolate fountain and then popped it in his mouth with a satisfied smile.

Clarissa continued the conversation. ‘He always pulls out all the stops. Apparently, he has some sort of surprise planned for us later. God knows what that will be. Do you know him well?'

‘No, not especially. We're acquaintances, that's all.'

‘Good. I didn't want to cause offence if you were a friend. I don't think he's well liked, to be honest. People come to his parties for the spectacle, and the champagne is always good.'

‘Is this it, then? Seems a bit tame for Victor. I had expected more.'