Текст книги "Return to Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

3: Game Plan

The sound of Elsa’s bare feet on the laminate floor of her kitchen as she paced back and forth drowned out the faint sound of the music playing on her MP3 in the living room. Victor’s words kept replaying over and over in her head and no matter how she looked at it – there was no getting out of what he wanted from her. Or was there? Perhaps if she changed her name and relocated… What a cruel irony that the man she was trying to free herself from worked for the FBI and had everything at his disposal to locate her.

Anyway, she wasn’t running anywhere. Why the hell should she? She had already given up so much of herself, she wasn’t about to give up her freedom or Nate. No matter if she didn’t love him. She cared about him, deeply, and that was enough to sustain their relationship. Maybe not indefinitely, but so what? Nothing lasted forever and life was too short not to enjoy it in the moment. That was another tough lesson learned from Mr. Black. Or was it Victor who had taught her that?

To not show up when Mr. Black called seemed like the best solution to protect her and Nate, but she knew he would show up to take what he perceived as his and only ruin her chances at any kind of normalcy in her life. The only thing that little action would cause is a fight of epic proportions. And a fight is exactly what she would put up if he tried to force her into something she didn’t want. But that promise. The one of letting her live her life uninterrupted… it was an offer she couldn’t refuse, even if she wanted to. And, God, how she wanted to. She detested the thought of going through anymore with him; of being put through his brand of danger again only to have her life wrecked by his insanity. What other choice did she have? No matter what her decision would be, she would end up hurt by either his cruelty, mind fuckery or having her betray the man she intended to marry.

Shaking her head, she frowned at her inner thoughts.

Nate’s key in the front door made her throat tighten. She needed to speak with him about his connection with Victor and anxiety besieged her. When he entered the kitchen, he found her leaning against the counter. When he graced her with a warm smile, she felt guilty and selfish for having spoken with an ex-lover behind his back. How could she even think about playing Victor’s game and betraying Nate? An unwelcome blush crept onto her cheeks at having lied about knowing Victor on the night they had told the world of their wedding plans. If he had done the same, she would not only be heartbroken, but furious

“What’s up with the pouty face?” Bending down, he lightly pressed his lips to hers and smiled against her mouth before withdrawing just as she attempted to wrap her arms around his neck.

An exasperated sigh fluttered past her lips at his coldness and standard detachment.

There was no point in putting off the question. “Why was Victor Laurenzo at the engagement party?”

Fearing her question would force her into a confession about her relationship with Victor, she prepared herself for a full admission and hugged herself for warmth and protection.

“I invited him.”

A heaviness centered in her chest at the casualness of Nate’s statement and the blank stare on his handsome face. As she stood silently trying to form her next question, he reached into the refrigerator for a beer.

“Why? You never told me you knew him…”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug as he popped the cap and brought the bottle to his lips. “We’re not good friends, just acquaintances, really. But it only seemed right to let him know about the engagement since technically he’s the reason we’re together.”

Stunned and sickened, Elsa’s hands dropped to her sides and she felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you mean?”

As if his statement and her question were no big deal, he tossed the bottle opener onto the counter and took a long drink before continuing. “He pointed me in your direction.”

Her shock quickly yielded to fury.

“I had a contract with the FBI at the time and so we talked on occasion about work and such. He’s the one who told me about your company. I was surprised you two acted as if you didn’t know each other considering he mentioned you by name as a contact. I guess we should be thanking him for…”

She only half listened to the rest of his statement as she struggled to maintain her calm. There would never be a thank you coming out of her mouth for anything Victor did.

“So even though he didn’t exactly set us up, he’s indirectly responsible for our being…”

Indirectly? What a crock of shit. Everything Victor did was methodically planned out and there was no way that what he did by sending Nate her way was anything but calculated. All along she had thought it was destiny that brought them together right at the exact moment she needed comfort; that it was a higher power watching out for her by bringing her someone to distract her from the mess that was her life when all along it was only sheer ignorance on her part for thinking that life worked in such divine and mysterious ways.

Victor, fucking, Laurenzo was the only power involved in making her life into what he thought it should be.

As Nate blathered on about the usual – his day, his experiences, his plans – the realization that playing Victor’s game again had always been her fate, sunk in. There would be no deliberating; there was no choice; her sentence for her own stupidity was to be Chapter Eight. Always.

A glazed look of despair began to spread over her face and her body became numb at the decision that was already forming on her lips.

*

A simple text from was the only communication between them. Right on time, three days later, she had sent him message stating when she would present herself. It had been a rough seventy-two hours waiting until she made her final decision, but in that time, she had formulated a plan. Things in her life were now irrevocably different after her decision to play the game again and there was no turning back. Nate would never know the reasons why she was doing what she was doing, and it was better that way.

Having her hand forced made her think long and hard about what she wanted to happen in her life. In a sense, this was a new step toward a, hopefully, brighter future, whether or not Victor or Mr. Black was involved. Neither of them was going to dim her light, no matter how hard they tried and she would never allow them to manipulate her outside life again.

Three days had passed and in that time, with each passing day, hour and minute, she had only become more resolute in her decision to take things with Victor to a whole other level. She could take whatever he could dole out, and then some. But could he do the same? Time would tell…

As she pulled into the driveway of Victor’s game pad, she moved quickly, knowing that he would be watching. She would show no hesitation or give him the slightest ounce of reason to believe that she was having second thoughts. She would prove just how strong she really was.

Pushing the last bits of hesitation aside, she stepped into the brownstone and closed the door behind her. Just inside the entrance, Victor was waiting.

“I wasn’t sure you would show up.”

Of course she would show up. He hadn’t given her any other choice. An outstretched hand took the bag from her shoulder and placed it on the floor behind him. Despite her having put on her best carefree face, panic rioted within her, but she stood before him, refusing to make eye contact. It wasn’t so much out of fright, but out of disgust; disgust with herself for having taken his bait and for him for having lured her back to East Grace Street with a threat and a promise.

Gently, he fingered her chin, bringing her face up. She blinked hard and tried not to notice his look of concern. Rapidly, her eyes flicked from his eyes to his mouth. It wasn’t until he dropped his hand that she was able to quickly lower her eyes back to the ornately tiled floor.

His soft murmur, warm nicotine and mint-scented breath fluttered past her cheek as he moved closer to her. “Look at me.”

She couldn’t. Her body was frozen with cold hatred.

Even softer, he pleaded. “Please, Elsa.”

That voice. The ache within his smooth, lusty tone began to thaw her frigid state, but she quickly reminded herself that he was nothing but a cruel manipulator and destroyer of happiness. When she stood staunchly unmoving, his body shifted. The heat of his core radiated onto her and his cologne dizzied her senses, her body trembling when he glided his palms over her bare upper arms.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed playing with you…” Long fingers clasped around her wrists. “How much I’ve longed for this day…” A firm squeeze of her hands. “To touch you again…”

Despite her best efforts not to give in, her irises drifted slowly up his toned body until they settled on his mouth. If only his words were true…

“This time will be different, Peach.” She clenched her jaw until her teeth creaked under the pressure when she heard the sweet nickname and the tenderness in his voice. “More enjoyable… more pleasurable…”

His words faded.

Enjoyable? Did he really believe that she could easily put aside all the things he did to her and enjoy being forced to betray Nate?

She brought her chin up to meet his gaze. “Will there still be rules involved?” His eyes flickered with some unknown emotion, but he slowly nodded. “Do you still want to be called Mr. Black?” Now it was his jaw that tightened as he ground his teeth. Another nod answered her question. “Then I guess it won’t be that different after all, will it?”

She pushed past him to the living room and grabbed her bag from the floor. She froze again. The house looked completely foreign to her – like a real home should; furnished lavishly with dark, rich colors and modern pieces, scenic paintings on the walls, small decorative touches everywhere – comfortable, inviting… deceiving. For a moment, she wondered if she had entered the wrong residence until she saw the familiar red velvet chaise near the fireplace. The pretty façade of the home was merely a ruse.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings once more before darting to him. “Are you living here?”

“Is that a problem?”

Elsa was taken aback and more than confused. “What happened to your home on the outskirts of Richmond?”

“I never planned on moving back so I sold it,” he glanced over her shoulder and out the bay window.

Unwelcome hurt filled her heart. She remembered well the day she found out he had relocated to California. His presence had been absent for nearly two weeks and she thought he was simply on another case. How wrong she had been. Things had been over for more than four months, but he had always been there – lurking; hiding in the shadows. Always there. Somewhere. Just over her shoulder. Around the corner. Right outside. Mere feet away. His smell lingering or wafting past her. His eyes constantly on her.

And then… gone.

A lump in her throat formed as she tried to suppress the memory of what happened next – the breakdown; doctors and strangers, even her family picking her brain apart trying to find out exactly what happened, what went wrong. It was ironic considering she had left one mind fuck only to enter another. It made no sense that she had gotten so low after finding out he moved on, considering that he had beaten her. It was impossible to try and explain to someone outside of the situation let alone herself. The only rationalization she could come up with was that she hadn’t really grieved his loss until being faced with his absence. In her own delusional mind, because he still lingered around, he cared for her.

“Why did you come back?” her words came out bitterly, irritated with her own fucked-up way of thinking. When he didn’t immediately answer, she turned her body to the side to glare at him. “Couldn’t you find another chapter or two to keep your interest?”

His brows pinched together as his green flecked irises roamed over her face and body. “California just didn’t do it for me,” he blandly responded.

Of course it didn’t. No chapter would ever do it for him, including her, but he was too self-absorbed to figure out that the problem wasn’t the state or the women – it was him.

Her eyes fixed on the spot where she had endured the most horrible moment of her life. The painful memory was still as needlepoint sharp as if it had only happened yesterday. The leather on her back… the searing heat… the unrelenting and excruciating ache that took weeks to subside… the mental and physical scars that still lingered… And the worst of it all – Mr. Black’s unfathomable eyes, cruel words and rejection of her love.

A tremor ran through her, but she shook her head and pushed forward; clinging to the hope that Victor would keep his word and allow her to live a normal life when the game was over. But a lingering question hung over her like an ominous storm cloud: would this thing with him ever truly be over? She refused to acknowledge what the truth might be – that she may never be free from him.

Walking to a medium-sized, tiger-maple table now sitting where the small bistro table used to be, she stood mere inches from it and peered over her shoulder.

“Let’s get down to business.”

Irritation flashed in Victor’s eyes. Long, quick strides brought him to the table and they both seated themselves.

He glanced down at her hand. “Where’s your ring?”

Should she tell him? “It didn’t seem appropriate to wear it here.”

His eyes shot back up to hers and his cold, silent stare left her reeling, but she refused to let it show.

Reaching into his front pocket, he brought out a worn piece of folded paper and laid it on the table.

The rules.

Elsa moved swiftly and retrieved a piece of paper from her handbag. Pushing his note aside, she placed the sheet of pink stationary face down and held her hand over it the same way he had the first time they discussed his game plan.

Clearing her throat, she spoke with certainty even though doubt was overwhelming her. “I have my own terms and conditions.” Victor’s eyes narrowed and a slight cock of his head revealed his confusion. Flipping the document over, his eyes lowered to the hand-written words on it.

New game. New rules.

Aggravation creased his forehead as his fierce gaze focused back onto her. “This is my house and I make the fucking rules,” he growled.

“Yes, you do, and I’ll follow them, but this time around, my rules are also in effect.”

A condescending huff slipped past his lips as his eyes scanned her face. “I don’t follow anybody’s rules but my own.”

Holding strong, she reached into her bag again, brought out a pen and held it out to him. “If you want me to play, willingly, then you know what to do.”

Unaffected, he leaned his chair back onto two legs and crossed his arms over his chest, his stoic expression revealing only stubbornness.

So that’s how he was going to play this. So be it. Without a hint of indecision, she put the pen back into the side pocket of her purse. With the same leisure and grace he had demonstrated only minutes before, she placed the strap of her bag over her shoulder and stood to walk out.

In a flash, his chair came down onto all fours with a heavy thud.

With the first step she took, his voice boomed, “Elsa.” A fleeting look over her shoulder revealed his inner battle playing out before her, bringing back a sense of déjà vu once again. “Goddamn it,” he grumbled under his breath as he stood, his palm crashing down hard onto the table, making her jump from his sudden reaction. “Why does everything with you have to be like this? I want you to play willingly, but…” his fingers pushed his long hair away from his eyes. “Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

She had no answer for him. Hell, she sometimes wished she could. It would make her life easier, that’s for damned sure.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he straightened up and bore his gaze into her. “Sit,” he pointed to the chair.

“I’m not a dog,” she shot back.

Lines of exhaustion creased the hard angles of his face as his hands settled on his hips. He let out another irritated breath, but his tone softened. “Please sit down.”

Tension vibrated each of her nerve endings. She hadn’t expected him to really consider her proposition and now faced with his possible compromise, she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Although she tried her best to hide her unease, her heart thumped madly as she faced him. Her skin prickled at the edginess radiating from him as she sank into the chair across from him. Standing off, face-to-face, neither spoke for nearly a minute. With his eyes never leaving hers, Victor tapped the pink sheet of paper and drew a lazy circle around her words, challenging her.

Taking his lead, she spoke softly yet with determination. “I’ll do whatever you want…” she reinforced in hopes that her offer would be too good to refuse. “Anything. But this time, the game will be about give and take. For everything you do to me, for every test you put me through, I want something in return.”

A thoughtful frown revealed his worry. “What, exactly, do you want in return?”

It was go time. How would he react? With volatility? Refusal? Would Mr. Black make an appearance? Would he try to impose his rules on her and make her play his fucked up game against her will? Or would Victor prevail and allow them to be on equal ground? She had no idea.

Swallowing loudly and moistening her lips nervously, she stared into his eyes. “Information.”

***

Victor felt a sudden scowl etch onto his hard features and the corners of his mouth twitch. There was no need to ask what kind of information she wanted. He already knew. Ever the nosy little bitch, she was itching to learn about his past. Mr. Black had been waiting in the wings for far too long and he, too, was impatient to have his way with her. How long could Victor suppress that part of himself? Not much; that was clear. But he wanted Elsa and he wanted her submission given freely. Mr. Black, on the other hand, well… he didn’t give a shit about the willing part; he just wanted to push her limits and see her fucking tears.

As he sat contemplating her ultimatum that was less than delicately disguised as a suggestion, he became fixated on her eager eyes. Despite her best efforts at hiding her feelings, passion seeped from her pores and longing shimmered in her eyes, the centers so dark they seemed to gleam like volcanic rock. How apropos, considering her temper was explosive like that of a volcano.

He allowed a mask of indifference to cloud his features to try and make up for his loss of composure only moments earlier. When she attempted to leave him again, panic had caused his cool façade to crumble at his feet. It both irritated and angered him. He hated the affect she had on him.

So, she wanted information. How difficult a task could that be? He could throw all sorts of useless facts about his life at her so long as she kept up her end of the deal by allowing him to do anything he wanted to her. With any luck, this little unforeseen rearrangement of his plans might just work out so that both he and Mr. Black could both come out on top.

Sliding a hand into his pocket, he pulled out his pen and began to scrawl his name onto the pale-rose colored stationary. Just before he dotted the i and crossed the t, he glanced up at Elsa.

“Once you sign it, there’s no going back,” she whispered and shifted in her chair.

She thought she was being cunning by giving him a dose of his own medicine, but her shock was clearly evident. A whiff of her perfume caught him by surprise, inadvertently causing a small smirk to make its way onto his lips. Goddamn, she smelled tasty.

Information. Yeah. Sure. What-the-fuck-ever she wanted so long as he could sink his tongue into her cunt and his cock into her tight asshole without her putting up a fight.

“Would you prefer I sign it in blood?” he mocked, causing her cheeks to flush.

He could be clever, too. Did she think he had forgotten their memorable first encounter at East Grace Street or her words? How could he when everything she had ever spoken to him and the images of her videos were so indelibly etched into his brain?

“The blood will come later,” she narrowed her eyes.

The heated expression on her face and easily readable hatred caused the smile to fade from his mouth. How did he miss that sentiment before? Suddenly, he believed her words. His eyes darted to the piece of paper before him.

Shit.

For a brief instance, he considered shredding it. Just as he reached for it, Elsa snatched it away.

“If you think you can simply back out of this agreement at any point, Mr. Black,” she emphasized the name, and repeated his own words once again. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

A creeping sense of doom filled his gut as he leaned back into the chair and watched her fold the piece of paper and slip it into her bra and against her bare breast.

“Stand and remove all your clothing,” she stated nonchalantly. “It’s time for your physical examination.”

His jaw dropped at her bawdiness. If not for the deadpan look on her face, he would’ve laughed out loud at her ridiculous statement. Quirking an eyebrow at her, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I believe your rules stipulate give and take, Ms. Cassidy, and you haven’t given me anything yet.”

Her eyes darkened. “I’m here aren’t I? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

The statement was true enough and though he did have to give her some credit for that, there was no way in hell he was going to be examined.

“As for not giving you anything, I just gave you my consent to do whatever you want to me,” she doggedly continued.

The lazy heat of desire that glittered in her eyes brought a question to mind: when the game was over, when everything was said and done, who would be the real winner? And more importantly, who would own whom?

So she wanted to examine him, did she? Her suggestion was laughable, but again, what-the-fuck-ever. By the look on her face, she didn’t expect him to follow through.

He would show her.

Without any further delay, he rose and stood before her, delighting in the way her eyes rounded in astonishment. Systematically, he began to strip down in front of her; first by removing his sleeveless, cashmere sweater and dropping it at her feet. Then, his paisley tie, followed by his button down shirt. He paused to allow her to take in the newest addition to his body: a large tattoo that covered the majority of his upper chest, ribcage and upper right arm, and crept over onto his upper back.

He pushed his chest out, taking pride in the way her eyes roamed over the mixture of tribal Samoan and Aztec patterns emblazoned in pitch-black ink. It was the only appropriate shade considering it matched the color of his soul. It had taken him more than a year to get the completed look, taking time in between sessions to allow for healing. What began as a small mark in commemoration of his time with Elsa had turned into an obsession. The pain was so exquisite and demanding of his attention, he took every chance he could to get more ink. On the maddening nights in San Diego when he couldn’t stop thinking about her or work, he would call his go-to-artist and have his skin etched raw for hours.

Next he unbuckled his belt and let his pants pool around his feet as he kicked them to the side.

He slid his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and there it was. The thing he had missed almost as much as the game. Her discomfort. The expression changed into mortification when he tugged them down. All of a sudden, the thrill of the game pulsed through his veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. The game just hadn’t been the same without her. Hell, none of the others after her had come anywhere close to giving him this kind of excitement.

When his semi-rigid shaft popped out of his underwear, her eyes shot up to his, revealing her apprehension. Perhaps her uneasiness was coming from the fact that her fiancé was waiting at home for her while she was here, with another man’s cock only inches from her face.

Fuck it.

He didn’t give a shit whether or not that asshole was at home waiting for her. Elsa belonged to him and this was his fucking time. He watched her teeth worry the soft flesh of her bottom lip. One half of him wanted to kneel in front of her and hold her close, while the other half wanted to torment her further. Suddenly irritated with the thought of her spending her time away from him with Nathan, his vindictive side won the battle.

Turning around, he glared at her over his shoulder. “Shall I bend over and grab my ankles?”

Elsa gulped loudly and turned her reddened face away from his ass. “That won’t be necessary.”

He couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. Like hell it wasn’t. Everything about her and this game was necessary. Without it, all he had was the fucked up reality of his life waiting for him outside the walls of 2500 East Grace Street.

Facing her again, he gripped his dick and began stroking it, amused with her building agitation and arousal.

Yes, arousal.

It was there, too, just below the surface of her awkwardness. She could try and fight it all she wanted, but there was no denying, she still wanted him. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself of. To face any other actuality would ruin the game for him and that was simply unacceptable.

The game was going to be played fiercely this time, with no holds barred and no limits. He wouldn’t hurt Elsa like he had before, but he was going to break her by all other means necessary. She may have thought by adding her own rules she was gaining an advantage, but he would show her that there would be only one winner and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the red-head staring up at him, pleading for his mercy with her deceptively beautiful eyes.