Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) (20 page)

“I’ve never worn one before,” I said.

He smiled. “Wonderful.” Doyle wrapped the corset around me. He pulled the ribbons tight, I gasped. “Don’t worry, I won’t make it too tight,” he said.

I sat on the bed while he put the stockings on me. He slipped a finger into the waist line of my panties. “These, I’m afraid, are going to have to stay here,” he said.

I laughed but only to avoid groaning. He smiled at me and then removed them. The garter made it on, but I felt like I might explode with expectation. He clipped my stockings in with confidence. How many times had he done this? Did I really care? I studied his profile. He had a strong jaw and soft red lips. His crooked nose saved him from being too good looking. His hair fell around his eyes as he concentrated on strapping me in. Who was this guy? What was I doing here? He looked up at me with his warm brown eyes and smiled. “Scared?” he asked.

I shot my chin into the air. “Nothing scares me,” I said.

His lips curled up into a small smile. “We’ll see about that.” Doyle stood and, taking my hands, pulled me up. “You look perfect. It’s a shame I’ve got to put this dress on you.”

I stepped into it and he lifted it up my body. It zipped snugly over the corset. “Go ahead and take a look at yourself.”

The mirror was on the far side of the room. I crossed to it watching the way the dress’s full skirt moved around me. My breasts were pushed against me, raising them into two bouncy mounds. My waist never looked so tiny. I ran a hand through my hair feeling that it was boring compared to the rest of my outfit.

Doyle stood next to me in his tuxedo, and I couldn’t believe
that
was me. He put a hand around my slim waist and I took a deep breath. “I don’t look like myself.”

“Let me fix your hair.” He disappeared into his bathroom and came back out with a brush and bobby pins. Within minutes he’d put my hair up into some kind of loose, sexy knot. With the bruise, I almost looked like I’d just been in a fight. A sexy fight.

A Sexy Fight

A heavyset black woman wearing an ankle-length black dress and a white apron opened the door. “Master Doyle,” she said. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you Gertrude. This is Joy Humbolt. She is my guest this evening.”

Gertrude turned her attention to me. “Welcome,” she said with a nod. “Welcome to the Biltmore Club.” She stepped aside, and we entered a large foyer. Gertrude’s small heels clipped across the tile floor, and she opened the second set of doors. With Doyle’s hand in the small of my back, I stepped into the Biltmore Club.

A chandelier hung from a domed ceiling bathing the people in soft yellow light. The room was full of men in tuxedoes and women in gowns as glam as my own. “Can I take your wrap?” I turned to see a young woman in the same outfit as Gertrude with her hand out and an expectant expression on her face.

“Yes, thank you,” I said. Doyle slipped it off my shoulders and passed it to her, then ran his hand over my almost bare bottom. I felt out of place, but his touch reminded me that this was an adventure not an audition.

The woman curtsied and scurried away. Doyle steered me into the crowd toward the bar. “Declan!” We turned as a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a clean-shaven face approached us with a grin. “How are you? It’s been too long.”

They shook hands heartily, both smiling. “Good to see you Brian.” Doyle turned to me. “This is Joy Humbolt. Brian Cordelver. Brian is a good friend of mine. He is the head of due diligence  at Fortress Global International.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. We shook hands and Brian turned back to Doyle.

“How’s the force treating you?”

“Fine, thanks. That’s how I met this lovely lady.”

I smiled.

“You know Robert’s here.” Brian swiveled his head looking around. “I know he wants to talk to you.”

Doyle laughed. “Trying to get me to come over to the other side.”

“Always man,” Brian slapped Doyle on the back. “This guy,” he said turning to me, “is destined for great things at our firm.”

I smiled.

“In a couple of years Brian.”

“Nonsense. We want you now. With all you’ve already done for the firm. Come on, Declan, due diligence has never been so hot.”

Doyle looked over at me and licked his lips. “I’m going to get this beauty a drink.”

He steered me away, and Brian turned back into the crowd of tuxedoes to find his next conversational victim. “I’ve heard hot things about due diligence.” I joked.

Doyle laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you have.” He moved his hand off my back and squarely onto my ass as we moved through the room. I watched the faces we passed, vaguely looking for the men Mulberry had asked me to search for. I saw one and blushed. Doyle pinched me. I yelped. He laughed. “Shhh, you’re going to have to be more subtle then that,” he whispered into my ear.

“Watch it mister,” I said.

He laughed again. “That’s master to you.” A waiter passed us with champagne flutes on a silver tray. Doyle saw the way I watched the elixir go by and called after the servant. He grabbed me a flute, and we continued on to the bar where Doyle ordered a bourbon on the rocks. I love the taste of bourbon on a man’s lips.

But how was I going to taste him? There was just no way all these people were about to strip down, pull their handcuffs out, and start fucking. There were old ladies with their hunched husbands. They were all dressed the same, but there was no way they were all down with the get down. Impossible.

As I scanned the crowd I saw another of Mulberry’s men. But the only way to find out if they were a part of what I was here for was to wait.

More people came up to Doyle, and we made small talk with them. I’d finished my first glass of champagne and was halfway through my second when I saw Pammy Maxim across the room. She was smiling and talking to a good looking older man. Pammy laughed and rested her hand on the man’s arm.

Her dress was full length like my own, but tighter. Or maybe she just filled it out better. She must have sensed my stare because she suddenly looked right at me. I blushed and turned away, but I knew she was going to head over, or I hoped she would, or, oh I just didn’t know.

Doyle, who’d been talking with a gentleman in a tux I would have struggled to pick out of a lineup, sensed my discomfort and looked down at me. I just smiled and bit my lip. He cocked his head and smiled back.

“Hey there,” I heard Pammy say behind me.

Doyle looked over my head at her and smiled. “"Pamela, always a pleasure to see you.”

I took a deep breath and turned to her. “Mrs. Maxim, you look lovely this evening.”

She really did. Pamela was a couple of inches taller than me. Her dress was obviously expensive, as was the diamond chocker that hugged her neck. “May I speak with you alone?” she asked me.

Doyle looked down at me. I shrugged. “No problem,” I said.

She took my arm like we were good girlfriends on our way to the ladies room. “I’m so glad you came,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since we met at my place.” She guided me through the crowd, or did it part for us?

We arrived at the coat check, and Pammy walked behind the young woman there, who just smiled and nodded. A thrill ran through me. Why was Pammy, former (perhaps still present) Mistress Pamela, taking me into the coat room? Would she kiss me? Hit me? My God, would I let her? Like it?

We stepped into the tight space, surrounded by the summer-weight outerwear of the wealthy. We could not help but stand close. She smelled like expensive perfume. “I just want you to give her a message for me,? Pammy said, leaning even closer to me.

“What?”

“Please, just tell her that I miss her.” Pammy bit her lip and looked down.

“You two were together?”

“Did she say that?” Her eyes shot up to mine.

“Not to me. I seriously did not know her that well.”

Ignoring this, Pammy forged ahead. “I just—I just want her to know that I miss her. Oh God,” she turned away from me and reached out, playing with the soft silk of a black wrap hanging nearby. “I know she was in love with someone else. I’m not a fool.” She laughed softly. “At least I never thought I was.”

“Who was she in love with?”

“You didn’t know either?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman,” I said.

Pammy smiled. “With Charlie you could never tell.”

“Charlie?” I knew I’d heard that name before but couldn’t remember where.

“Charlene’s nickname.” Pammy took a step closer to me. There was barely an inch between us. “You really didn’t know her, did you?”

“No.” I could smell bourbon on her breath, and I leaned toward her. Apparently, I liked the smell of bourbon on a woman, too.

She leaned down and kissed me lightly on the lips. I closed my eyes and felt like I was floating away, flying above the cramped coatroom. I pushed up onto my tip toes kissing her back. She ran her hand lightly down the back of my neck. That’s when it hit me—Charlie was the name of the man that Joseph was rumored to be having the affair with.

She pulled on my hair parting our lips. “You’re here to play?” she asked.

“I guess.”

“Better decide soon.”

Pammy stepped away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Without another word she walked back out into the party. I took a deep breath.

I exited the coatroom smiling at the coat-check girl as I left. She gestured at my lips. I blushed and wiped at them. My lipstick must be a mess, I thought, and asked her to direct me to the bathroom.

The ladies’ room was all marble, with fresh-cut flowers and one little couch. I wiped off the lipstick around my lips and reapplied my own shade. I still looked damn good, and I was feeling pretty wild when I stepped back out into the party.

“Joy?” I turned around and was face to face with Elaine. Mousey, scared of squirrels, dog- walking Elaine.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, then immediately noticed the tray of champagne flutes. “Working,” I said, answering my own question.

“Yeah, Charlene got me the gig,” she said.

“You guys were pretty close huh?”

“Still are.”

“You’ve spoken with her?” A man came up, and Elaine offered him the tray. He took two flutes and then melted back into the crowd. “If you’ve spoken to Charlene, you should really tell me.”

“What? You said you hardly knew her?”

“Yeah, but she is in deep shit.” An older woman who was reaching for one of Elaine’s glasses of champagne turned to look at me.

“Watch your language young lady,” she said and then turned her back on me with a harrumph.

Elaine blushed. “I can’t talk now. I’m working.”

“Wait, Elaine, have you talked to her?” She started to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed her free arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Have you spoken with her?”

Elaine glanced around. “Yes,” she whispered.

“When?”

“She’s fine. We’ve been e-mailing. I’m helping her.”

“How?”

Elaine smiled. “Spreading rumors,” she whispered and glanced around the room. “She wants me to make everyone believe she was with Tate Hausman.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“So that thing about the hangman’s rope was made up?”

“Yup,” she smiled.

“Does Tate Hausman even play?” I raised my eyebrows so she was sure to understand what kind of play I meant.

“I’ve never seen him. He’s not really that fun, you know.”

“Wasn’t that fun, Elaine? He
is
dead.”

“Right.” She bit her lip and looked around her again.

“Elaine, do you realize that rumor makes Charlene look guilty of killing him?” She turned very pale. “When did you get this e-mail?”

“But, I thought it would keep people from knowing about her and Joseph—” She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock at her slip.

“Charlene and Joseph were together?” She didn’t answer. I wanted to shake her. “Elaine!”

“I have to get back to work. It’s almost time,” she said and hurried away.

I watch her blend back into the crowd. Jumping to conclusions, I decided Charlene and Joseph were in love, planning on running away together until someone killed him and either kidnapped Charlene or sent her running for her life. Whoever that person was, they could very well be in the room tonight.

I looked around for Declan, and when I didn’t see him I headed over to the bar. “A tequila gimlet, straight up, splash of cranberry juice, please.”

The bartender needed some coaching, but he got me my drink just as Gertrude came up. “Miss Joy.”

“Hi Gertrude.” I sipped off the top of my martini glass.

“Will you please join Master Doyle in the library?”

“Sure. Where is it?”

Gertrude led me through a door behind the bar. She closed it behind us and continued down the hall. It was lit by antique wall sconces. The carpet was intricate and plush. I sipped a little more off the top of my drink trying not to spill it all over myself.