I’d get to meet you.’
I’m touched by her courtesy. ‘You know my old professor?’
She smiles, warmer now. ‘Oh, yes. We go back a way. He’s here, somewhere.’ As she looks vaguely round, I notice Cola slip away into the crowd.
Savoy watches her go, pressing her lips together as she lowers her voice. ‘I’m so sorry to spring Cola on you both. This business scared the wits out of all of us. And she’s so moody, poor child. Do forgive her. I’m sure she’s been difficult.’
As she tells me about their trip I lose focus a little. She walked out on her son. How could any woman do that? When I tune back in to what she’s saying we’re still on Cola.
‘… So she begged me to bring her. But I mustn’t keep you. Do come over and visit the ranch sometime. We’d love to have you.’
Now I search out my old professor while Darnley drifts over to a group from MIT. Through gaps in the crowd I catch glimpses of Cola talking to someone in the group from the university. I can’t see who it is but what catches my attention is her expression. She looks quite different, her face lit up.
It’s a look I know well: it’s how I feel when I’m with Darnley.
I greet my professor with only part of my attention as a small drama plays out on the fringe of my vision. Now Darnley and his mother have seen her too. He mutters into a phone as his men close in. At the same moment Cola breaks away from the person she was talking to and he slips away into the crowd. She comes back over, her pout firmly back in place and her eyes troubled.
The whole episode takes barely a few minutes but it’s very revealing.
I wonder if Darnley knows she’s in love.
At last I bid a fond farewell to my professor and Darnley comes up close.
‘Had enough?’
His look is so intent my heart skips. ‘Don’t you want to talk to your mother a little longer? You must have a lot to say …’
‘Ella, please. We’re hardly close. And she’s around for a while yet. We’ll catch up.’
After a round of brief farewells we head for the open air. His car is already waiting. In the back seat I lean back and smile at him as his dark look warms me. The bracelets are heavy now, loading my slim wrists like lead weights – just how he wants them. They attracted a lot of attention this evening. Now they’re nagging at mine.
His fingers slide around them, his touch like electricity on my skin. I feel my nipples stiffen under the thin satin of my gown and his look darkens as he notices. One hand reaches forward to brush the places with the back of his finger, his gaze intent.
I arch my neck as my breasts react to his soft caress with a slight swell, my nipples now tense and numb, my rapid breathing straining the satin of my neckline. ‘What – what’s Cola enrolled for?’
His fond smile blanks. ‘Enrolled? Where?’
I blink, my breasts now burning, my nipples throbbing as numbness tenses them and fades again. ‘At the Academy. We only teach referrals. She has some kind of problem? Is she in rehab?’
He frowns. His hand stays in place, his fingers lingering in my neckline, easing the low curve of the fabric downwards so I risk spilling out altogether. ‘She’s not enrolled at all. I was hoping you’d tell me how she knew about you.’
He still won’t trust me. My heart sinks, and then hardens. This may not be the moment to hint she’s involved with someone. ‘Your mother knows about me. Maybe she mentioned my name.’
He’s still frowning. ‘But how did she know where to find you?’ His hand pauses on its journey. His cold look chills my heart.
Why can’t he trust me? ‘Why not ask her?’
‘I do. She just clams up. So now I’m asking you.’
‘I tell you, I don’t know. What else can I say?’
His eyes glitter dangerously as we draw to a halt.
I glance out of the window and stare. ‘Where are we?’ We’re nowhere near the open spaces around his mansion. We’re still in Beacon Hill, only a few streets away from the State House, in one of the oldest and most exclusive parts of town. The colonial-fronted houses are elegant and secluded.
‘After you.’ I’m ushered out of the car and he leads me up to an imposing side entrance that swings slowly open to let us in and then closes behind us. We’re in a plain, white-painted corridor, all hushed carpet, gilded antique mirrors, low lighting. There are doors leading off but all are closed except for one partly open at the end. He murmurs into his phone as we approach it and I gather our arrival is being checked and some kind of clearance given.
He ushers me into the open doorway and I gaze around me while the door behind us closes softly, the final click of the lock the only sound in this soft, muffled chamber.
I turn to him, my heart thumping against my ribs. ‘Where the hell are we?’
He says nothing, but I can sense his excitement. His slow smile tells me where we are, like I didn’t already know.
It wasn’t a question, it was a cry for help.
We’re in a dungeon, or the next best thing in these safety-conscious, sophisticated times. It’s all here: the padded walls, the gleaming chains, the smell of leather.
And on the rail screwed to the centre of the floor, placed directly under the glare of the spotlights, like it’s the treasure at the heart of some temple of doom, hangs a gleaming pair of handcuffs, hard and uncompromising. They’re waiting for me.
It starts with the bracelets. It leads me to this.
Thrill of the chase.
‘Scared?’
Amid all this terrifying paraphernalia he seems perfectly at home, but I sense he’s watchful. He’s waiting for my reaction.
It’s just a game. I can play too.
I lean up to kiss his jaw, a tiny act of submission to set the tone. ‘I’d say yes if I thought it was that simple,’ I say, softly. ‘I’m not sure what I feel.’
His slow smile sends a tremor through me. ‘Hey. That was a brave answer. You never disappoint.’
He may not know it but I could, easily. Right now I feel about as brave as limp tissue. I keep my eyes firmly off the glittering cuffs. ‘You do this often?’
He’s shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. ‘No, I told you. I lack the patience to commit fully to this. I talked it over with Freda and we thought it might –’
‘Freda?’
