Sexy as Hell Box Set (66 page)

I shoved my hands in my pockets, set the sole of my left shoe on the wall behind me and hoped my pose looked casual.

A man, tall, wearing a denim jacket and heavy stubble walked into the coffee shop.

Zara looked up.

My spine stiffened.

I could almost feel her interest—it was like a sonic wave cresting towards me.

Damn, she’d spotted her hit.

Nausea rolled over me, bile stung my gullet. This was exactly what I’d feared would happen. And shit, he was a big bloke.

Already he was looking at Zara. I couldn’t see her face but presumed she was smiling at him, the same way she’d smiled at me that time in London. All sweetly seductive with promises of sex in the tilt of her lips and the sparkle of her eyes. She might as well just say it. Come here, let’s have coffee and then we’ll fuck each other stupid.

She was a player, that much was certain. Her game was wicked and screwed up. She thought only of herself, there was no teamwork about it, and the rules, well, she threw the rule book out of the window when it suited her and then rewrote the whole damn thing.

He, too, had an espresso and was walking towards her. He stopped, looked down as Zara looked up, the tilt of her chin just coming into my line of sight.

He spoke, must have been Italian as she shrugged and shook her head. He smiled and tried again. I guessed he had a grasp of English because she gestured to the seat opposite and he sat.

His shoulders were beefy, his neck thick, and I didn’t like the predatory look in his eye one bit. He knew what she was all about and he wanted some. Had he been a wolf he’d be circling her, keen nose sniffing her out, hungry eyes flashing.

Zara offered her hand. They shook then he lifted her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them, smiling devilishly.

That nausea threatened to overwhelm me. It had been bad enough seeing her with Ollie, but this, an Italian stranger, I couldn’t take it.

“
Mi scusi, posso utilizzare questa porta
.”
An old gentleman, face like leather, held up a key.

“
Mi dispiace, ti prego perdonami
.” I stepped out of his way, smiling my apology for blocking his doorway.

Once he’d let himself in and the lock had clicked, I resumed my position.

Italian Guy was still smiling, nodding at something Zara was telling him. I could just imagine the yarn she was spinning. Probably telling him she was holidaying alone and knew no one so was wishing she had a personal guide to show her around.

He’d fall for it. Not knowing what she really wanted. What she really had planned. She could screw up the rest of his life without raising a sweat.

After several minutes, he put his hand in the air, clicked his fingers. The girl behind the counter quickly brought two fresh coffees to their table, a nervous look on her face.

My heart did a defiant flip, just the thought of two espressos enough to make it excitable. I remembered back to that morning—yes, I’d taken my tablet. Catherine had reminded me to.

Catherine, shit, what the hell was I going to do about her?

Nothing. Everything was fine with Catherine. Well, it would be if Zara was out of the equation, which she would be soon. When this week was over I’d never see the little witch again.

Probably.

She was standing now, so was he, coffees ignored. Zara tugged the hem of her skirt.

I pulled my back from the doorway and straightened. Now what? Was I going to follow them? I hadn’t thought my plan through further than watching Zara from a distance. Where were they going to do the deed? Back at his? A hotel? Our villa? Had she already made it clear she was a sure thing or was she being subtle?

Exiting the coffee shop they turned right, away from the main row of shops. He put his hand on the small of her back, and I clenched my fists, wanting to thump the bastard and tell him to stay the fuck away from my woman.

My woman?

Well, she was more mine than his. And hadn’t she been wearing the collar I put on her just hours ago? Her submissive collar, the one that told the world she had a Master—me?

Not only that, a Master who’d fucked her already today?

Me.

Hugging the buildings and staying on the shaded side of the street, I followed. The small town wasn’t busy, so I had to be careful. Goodness only knew what hissy fit Zara would have if she knew I was here. I could hear her now, screaming at me that she belonged to no one, that I had no right to follow her, spy on her, sneak about in the shadows watching her. She could take care of herself, didn’t I know.

Well, it was tough shit, this was for her own good. That bloke was giving off signals that made my hackles rise. It was the determination in his swagger, the tension in his muscles. He was like a man with a prize, a prize he was about to devour.

A car and a van had a sudden skirmish in the middle of the street. Horns honked and a fist belonging to an angry driver appeared out of one window. Zara and her new acquaintance turned at the commotion. Quickly I spun away, studied the contents of a shop window—pastries, custards, cakes—and prayed the indignant voices would hold her interest rather than the man who looked a bit like me in the distance.

Fuss over, I risked turning back. Bugger, where were they?

I strained my neck to look up the street. They’d walked quickly, and I had to jog past several shops and a church to get them within comfortable distance again.

Soon we were on the outskirts. Here there were no shoppers, just the odd dog walker or scruffy child. When they veered down yet another street it felt quite deserted, a little ramshackle too. Topsy-turvy houses, several of which were boarded up, a skip full of rubble and an old Fiat minus one wheel and propped up on bricks. Hardly a scene from a Tuscan travel brochure.

Now I was really uncomfortable. He was all but propelling her to the end of the street. A shadowed alley appeared on the right. I sped up, adrenaline beginning to seep into my system. This just wasn’t sitting right with me at all. I couldn’t imagine he had a nice place hidden away here; it was rotten and dingy, seedy and deserted.

They went, as I suspected they would, into the alley and out of view. I hurried, hardly caring about my shoes slapping on the dusty pavement. But I didn’t go down the alley; instead, I sneaked a peek around the corner and let my eyes adjust to the dim light.

The smell of rotten food hit me and then Zara’s voice. I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying but I could tell she didn’t have her usual air of confidence. There was a tone of defiance but also doubt.

Bins and rubbish were stacked against the walls of the alley. There was no light at the other end, it led nowhere. I glanced down and spotted a used condom lying like a discarded little snake skin on the floor. Lovely.

What the hell was she doing here? Zara had a beautiful luxury villa to stay in, every comfort she could imagine. I could give her that, I
had
given her that. Why was she in a dirty alley with a brute who was only after one thing?

“No, that’s not it.” Zara again.

I stepped into the alley, saw their two silhouettes merge. I had no idea what I was going to do. Did I really want to watch Zara get a good fucking by this stranger?

Hell no.

But could I turn away?

Not a chance.

“Yes, this is it,” he said gruffly and with a heavy accent.

I was about to hide behind a stack of wood when suddenly Zara yelped. He’d swivelled her round, pressed her into the wall.

“No, no, get off,” she shouted.

Panic seared through me. There was no way I could witness this. I had to stop it. She didn’t want what he was about to give her. I knew that with absolute certainty.

She was twisting and turning, shouting at him. He was one-handedly pulling out his cock by the look of it, his body weight pressing into her hard if the squeaks of breath I could hear coming out of her were anything to go by.

“
Ora I fuck puttana,
” he said, menace dripping from his tone.

Words formed in my mouth, and I wanted to shout that she wasn’t a whore, that he wasn’t going to fuck her. I was just about to release them in an angry burst when I spotted a length of metal piping on the floor. I grabbed it, held it aloft.

He kicked her legs apart, caught her ponytail in a fist and yanked her head back so hard I feared for her neck.

Zara squealed and then, “Get the hell off me. You fucking moron, I told you what I wanted and it wasn’t this.”

It was the fear in Zara’s voice that made me want to do it. Maybe I would have hesitated if she’d just sounded angry, but she was scared. Scared right to her bones, and this big bastard, he was just about to ram his cock into her even though she’d shouted no.

I aimed the pipe at his head. Then, as if in slow motion, I brought it down onto the back of his skull. Not as hard as I could, but still, with a good heft of strength behind it.

The connection was sickening. A thud that vibrated through the metal, my hand and up my arm.

Instantly, his body turned to fluid and he melted to the floor, a heap of akimbo limbs and an expressionless face.

“Victor?” Zara gasped, spinning.

I dropped the pole like it had suddenly become electric. Watched as it bounced and then rolled beneath a sheet of corrugated iron. Evidence hidden, hopefully.

She was in my arms, she’d just appeared there, her head buried in my neck and her chest pressed into mine.

“Are you all right?” I asked, smoothing my hand down her back and staring at the man on the floor at my feet.

“Shit, yes, but…how did you?”

“Let’s get out of here.” I tilted her chin up, looked into her eyes. “Now. This filthy alley gives me the creeps.”

She nodded and then shivered. “Me too.”

I stooped, turned the unconscious bastard onto his side like I’d been shown at the company first-aid course, and then wrapped my arm around Zara’s shoulders, pulled her close.

We hurried out into the sunshine, not speaking, just together, and scrambled into the first taxi we saw.

The taxi sailed past a hotel, and on instinct I asked the driver to stop. I paid him, and we got out, Zara giving me a funny look but not uttering a word of complaint. I had a good idea the alley encounter had frightened her more than she’d ever let on. With her acting so dominant and in control all the time, she was hardly going to let me see a softer side to her now. What the hell was it that drove her to seem so hard? And she
had
been hard on this holiday, quite mean at times, to all of us.

As we stood on the pavement, I glanced down the street at the hotel then looked at her, raising my eyebrows in question. I didn’t want to take her in there to fuck her—that was a lie, I did, but didn’t feel it was appropriate, given the circumstances—more to calm her down before we returned to the villa.

She nodded, and I led her inside to an average foyer, a far cry from The Savoy, the last hotel we’d been in together. It was clean enough, just not as luxurious as I was used to, and I wondered if the rooms would be basic. But basic was all we needed, really. Just somewhere to have a private chat.

She followed me to the reception desk, where I paid for a room, then we took the stairs in silence, me holding her hand in case she needed the feeling of safety I hoped my gesture would produce. She squeezed it lightly—her way of letting me know she was grateful? I could only assume that was the case. If I expected her to show her gratitude verbally, I’d be waiting a long time. Hell would freeze over first, or come close to bloody going cold.

Once in the room—yes, it was basic all right, and very…pink—I left her to go into the bathroom, give her a bit of space. If she was still standing on the rose-coloured rug when I went back in there, I’d know she was in fighting spirit and that it would be a bit difficult to break down her defences and get her to open up to me. Despite everything that had gone on between us, I liked to think we were friends—albeit friends who squabbled a little too much. I wanted to help, to make her feel better, and to perhaps fix this mess we’d found ourselves in. And it
was
a mess, wasn’t it? Her with Ollie, me with Catherine, neither of us really knowing what the fuck we were playing at.

I washed my face at the small stainless steel sink, dried it on the miniscule white towel, then gave myself a quick pep talk before returning to the bedroom. I could do this.

Zara was on the bed, curled on her side facing away from me. Her knees were drawn up, and from what I could see she was squeezing her bottom lip between finger and thumb.

“Are you all right?” I asked. A stupid question. Of course she wasn’t all bloody right. “I mean…well, I know you can’t be all right, but I didn’t know what else to say. That alley thing. Wasn’t something I’d expected to see. Probably wasn’t something you expected to go through either.” I’d babbled, trying to fill the awkward void that seemed to be opening up wider with every word I’d spoken. “Bastard, he’ll have a mean fucking headache, though. Hopefully think twice about doing something like that again.”