Atlanta, Georgia - 2018
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The incessant ringing woke me from a deep sleep. I rolled over, and it stopped. Ten minutes of silence ensued. I'd barely fallen asleep when it started again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Too damn exhausted to answer, I reached across and turned my phone off.
Four hours later I ate a leisurely Sunday breakfast on the patio and watched the sunrise. My thoughts wandered to the details of several pending cases and blocked-number calls I'd received. Unable to relax, I opened my laptop and resumed my research into the practical applications of DNA in genealogy.
My phone buzzed.
Cole. I hadn't heard from him for six months. Sexy Devil with a heartthrob smile. I answered after the third ring.
"What's going on?"
"Traveling around the world," he replied. "Missing you."
I laughed. "I bet. Is that before or after you've smooched all those gorgeous women?"
"I'm innocent," he protested. "I swear."
"Right." I closed the laptop intending to chat for a while. "It's noisy. Are you in Seattle?"
He paused a minute.
"No," he said, sounding tense.
"Where are you?" I frowned at the sudden change in his voice.
"In Atlanta."
"Okay." My heart began to pound. It had to be a coincidence.
I hadn't told anyone I was home.
"Chloe..."
I didn't respond.
"I'm here." He sounded breathless as if he'd run a hundred miles.
The call ended. I tried to control my growing anxiety. Sweat beaded my brow.
Mere seconds elapsed before the distinctive whump filled the early-morning air. An unmarked black helicopter crested the trees and landed on the grass near the pool. Instantly, the doors opened, and three familiar black-clad figures emerged. I'd last seen them in Newport Beach in February.
My eyes perused their formal uniforms as they jogged towards me.
"It's been too long." I greeted Allie and Ivy with quick hugs.
"Indeed."
Cole met my gaze with a grim smile.
"This isn't a social call," I stated.
His red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair agreed.
"We wanted to tell you in person." Ivy placed a large black case on the table.
"The earliest house in 'The Blake Collection.'" Cole's hand covered mine, giving it a slight squeeze. "It was located."
"What?" I gasped, clutching the table's edge.
I felt faint and took a lungful of fresh air.
Allie popped the latch and slid the case over.
I reached inside, fingers trembling, and pulled the glossy pictures out.
I noted the main house with five floors including both full-width attic and basement. Multiple wings branched out from the center. A separate two-story library, summer house, and garage comprised the spacious property.
"How?"
"The owner willed the place to the butler in 1946. It remained mostly unchanged and unlived in since, passing down the paternal line." Cole offered me the paper.
"The last owner sold it to a real estate company's partners in April," Allie said.
"Public interest is intense." Ivy passed her phone. People lined the gates to the two-mile-long drive. "London papers will break the news Tuesday."
Allie closed the case. "Hayes River wants you for the job."
Fuck. I was excited. A dream was coming true. I almost couldn't believe it.
"Absolutely." I tossed my keys to Ivy. "Get my backup luggage."
"I'll contact Knight House." Allie grinned and left.
"There's an issue." Cole's hand scrubbed down his scruffy face.
"Isn't there always?"
"I don't know how to tell you."
"Just say it." My shoe tapped against the wooden chair.
I leaned forward in trepidation.
He knelt before me, grasped my hands and shakily exhaled.
"Rio is the other partner."
I swore. Tugged my fingers free. A wave of heat rolled over my body.
Images surfaced of sun-tanned skin, deep cadent voices, sly smiles, and dark tousled hair.
"Chloe, please." His jaw clenched.
I jumped up and paced the patio unable to decide. Stay, or Go. Yes, or No.
The wind blew my hair as the sky darkened.
Cole's voice dropped to a desperate plea. "I need you."
Strong arms circled my body. Oranges and spice tickled my nose as I inhaled.
"We can't do this without you."
Through him, I'd met Rio. They'd always been best friends. A fiery magnetism existed between the three of us when we spent too much time together. Not for the first time, I wondered how close they were.
The opportunity to curate and sort an untouched estate was rare. But something I could pass up. A single passion had consumed most days and nights for seven years. The search for Courtesan Masquerade. Reason prevailed.
I couldn't stop the hunt now.
Perhaps it was time for laughter in the rain. A different game. Long-denied fantasies allowed to turn into self-indulgent reality. I had a self-assuredness I hadn't felt then. I could handle this.
"Yes." I turned in his arms and met caring blue eyes. "But, now I own you."
My life had taken many unexpected twists and turns. Trapped between heaven and hell was only the latest.
It was inevitable we'd meet again.
Rio Van Horne. Fucking Arrogant Bastard.
Within fifteen minutes we were airborne en route to Virginia headed to London via private jet then on to Belgium.
I used my time wisely. I plotted out every fucking angle I knew Rio capable of playing.
♦
My first job was at a historical society. I loved transcribing letters and journals filled with intriguing tales of travel, betrayal, and sexual affairs. It was fascinating work. The boring stuff I passed to volunteers.
I was engrossed in a scandalous tale of adultery involving a French socialite and two business rivals circa 1810 Chicago. One minute I'd been reading about a bum-groping ogler of ill repute and the next a motorcycle-helmet-wearing man was towering over me.
"Must be a great book."
"Why's that?" I croaked. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I hoped it didn't spread.
I hadn't heard anyone enter.
"You're blushing." My pulse quickened at the husky voice, skin-tight ripped jeans, and scuffed black combat boots.
He flicked the visor up. Such dark blue eyes.
"Really?" I tried to play it off. "It's just the... weather. Hot summer and all that."
His gaze dropped to my neck and then chest briefly.
"Oh, it's definitely scorchin' in here." He winked and removed the helmet. "I need water to cool down."
I shifted self-consciously with a desire to straighten my hair and clothes. Was this man flirting with me? Not seriously. A man like that always had a beautiful girlfriend.
"Cole Stanton." Warm fingers enclosed mine. "I'm the new guy."
My belly tightened with aching need I buried. I was too shy to be the kind of woman he dated. But a friend I would be.
Grinning broadly, I said, "Chloe. Nice to meet you."
♦
Our friendship grew. Rio entered my life two years later.
The workday was grueling. Constant interruptions meant I was late to Cole's party. Boisterous crowds filled the front yard, throughout the sizeable multi-level house and spilled into the spacious backyard.
I unlocked the master bedroom and entered the bathroom. I set my bag on the long counter next to a vase of fresh-cut roses. Easing my skirt down, I let it pool around my feet. I pulled my shirt off and adjusted my bra. It was unusually humid and hot inside. I opened the windows wide. Leaning against the tiled wall, I slowly slid my hands over my body massaging my muscles. Hours spent cramped in a small car were hell. Cool air caressed my damp skin as I stretched. I moaned as the tension and worries released. It felt so good to relax.
I was tempted to climb into Cole's California King bed naked and sleep the weekend away between crisp sheets. But, I'd splurged on a new dress. I carefully put it on. My fingers smoothed the form-fitting black satin into place. I loosened the hairclip and shook out my blond hair to tumble over my bare shoulders. A red mask hugged my face. Quick swipes of gloss over plump lips and I finished.
I admired my reflection and smiled. My full breasts, shapely legs, and pert bum were displayed seductively. Perfect. Work had occupied my personal life too much lately. It was time for some fun. Be daring. Be bold. Go commando. I reached under the dress and slid my panties off. I pitched them into the hamper. Would Cole notice the mystery panties in the laundry? I giggled at the thought of sheer red lace nestled with his favorite black Calvins.
Assorted pirates and comic book heroes were in abundance. A group of men played cards at the poker table in the game room. With tailored black tuxedos, sexy London accents, dark blue face masks, and gold money clips stuffed with crisp bills they were oblivious to their surroundings.
I sat at the bar and sipped orange juice. Five women dressed as saloon girls passed out ice-cold bottles of beer and glasses of champagne. Most guests had alcohol, and I was reluctant to get my dress ruined from a spilled drink, or worse. I sighed. Maybe tonight wasn't the time to be daring. I wandered the rooms restless. I wanted something different. Exciting.
A glance at my watch showed it was nine forty-five; an hour since I arrived. I wondered if I should leave. The doors to the ballroom opened, bringing the scent of roses, and the soft thump of footsteps sounded behind me. A shadow passed overhead before I could turn.
"Your lips were made for moonlight kisses." Against my ear, the words, spoken softly made my chest tighten. I spun around to face the stranger, a gasp caught in my throat.
He was tall, muscular, and strikingly handsome from what I could see. Thick dark hair, vibrant green eyes, two-day stubble lined his jaw. A black mask to match my red one covered his face. My eyes roamed the perfectly tailored dark red silk shirt, and black pants that clung to his frame. My stomach fluttered in response.
"Who are-" His hand cupped my jaw, and his thumb lightly brushed my bottom lip.
I shifted my gait and exhaled a slow, nervous breath.
"Dance with me before this night is over." His lips casually brushed my fingertips.
I scanned the room certain he made a mistake. What if he didn't? This is your chance. Be bold.
"Yes." I felt weightless as I accepted. He affixed a white rose in my hair. Delicate petals grazed my temple.
"Exquisite," he uttered. The whispered voice, husky and deep, was compelling. I could listen for hours.
A slow song played. It was one of my favorites. He took me by the hand and led me onto the crowded dance floor. Powerful arms circled me, pulling me close. My fingers wrapped around his broad shoulders. Large hands guided me into the firm contours of his body. He held my hips and lined his pelvis against my own. My pulse leaped as my nipples slid over his silk-covered chest. He wore an expensive musky cologne. A woodsy scent. He smells so good. It made me light-headed. I wanted to bury my nose against his neck to breathe him in until morning.
Our bodies moved in rhythm to the sensuous music. We danced like this for what seemed hours. Song after song until I lost count. It felt natural as if we'd been partners for years.
"I could get lost in you." I searched his eyes. A twinkle of mischief shone from the depths.
Hot breath filled my ear. "I don't want to be alone tonight." His tongue licked the edge of my earlobe, making me shiver. "I know you want me too." As if to prove the point, his hands cupped my ass, deliberately pressing his hardness into my belly. "Let the mask set you free."
I didn't have casual sex, but for once I wanted to be unpredictable. Anonymity freed me to act in ways I normally wouldn't. I wanted him. Desperately. Completely. In all the ways it was possible for a man and woman to be together. I craved the heart-pounding adrenaline of wild and crazy sex.
As the music changed to a faster beat, he whirled me around the dance floor masterfully. People stopped to watch us. Men tried to cut in, but one harsh glare from his intense eyes had them backing away. He was commanding in his authority and succinct in his answers. "No."
His body led me with leonine grace through complicated dips and spins, twists and turns. I could hardly keep up. My heartbeat sounded like drums in a parade. He flung me into the air and pulled me back into his arms. Repeatedly. Like I was the tide receding into the ocean then crashing back onto shore.
He bent me backward until my hair brushed the floor. Looked me in the eyes, and tenderly ran a finger along my jaw. When he lifted me up, he kissed me hard and furious. Like he wanted to consume me. His soft lips planted on mine until our breathing was ragged and desperate. He tasted of mint and cherries. I wanted to savor all of him. Every masculine inch. The thought made me moan. My lips were swollen and tender. But, I wanted more.
Space in a corner opened. Lush displays of flowers flanked the sides. The room's dark shadows and continuously streaming guests kept us hidden. We grew bolder in our intimate touch. More explicit. It was thrilling and addictive.
His hips ground into mine from behind. A strong arm slid around my waist, holding me in place. The other one fondled my breasts, pinching the tightened buds through the thin fabric.
"Open for me," he urged.
I spread my legs. My pussy seeped with arousal. Expert fingertips stealthily followed a wet trail up my inner thighs switching between them to find damp skin. A lone finger breached my wet folds stroking and teasing until I writhed in delicious agony. His thumb grazed the edge of my clit rubbing in tandem until two blunt fingers suddenly slipped deep inside. My body clenched tight with need. His fingers pumped my dripping pussy faster, silently urging me to surrender fully to his will.
Then he stopped. His fingers and thumb still as my body trembled. His lips kissed the sweat-damp skin of my neck. His nose nuzzled the side of my jaw. Whispered words fell against my ears, but I knew not one. My mind was unable to comprehend anything but the sensations running through my body. Every thought focused on release. The sweet torments of frustration and desire and lust merged. The line between pleasure and pain balanced on a single stroke of his thumb or pump of his fingers.
