Dark Needs (Tales of Dystopian Decadence Book 1) (5 page)

Chapter 6

I surveyed the crowd in the darkened restaurant as I clutched at Icharus’s arm. He had insisted on bringing me to this place, though I could not understand why. Public appearances seemed counter-intuitive if he intended to use me to commit a murder.

Nothing about our match was as straightforward as I had hoped. Still, I saw no need for him to flaunt our connection. It seemed dangerous to be seen in public with a hired killer. However, he’d already moved me into his home and spent the past couple of weeks teaching me what he required of a courtesan, both in public and private. His tastes were, indeed, special and no delicate submissive would do. She could satisfy his hunger, but she might not enjoy it. Icharus knew without a doubt I enjoyed every act he practiced upon me, from breath play to humiliation to wax play. Bit by bit, he revealed his intimate expectations to me and each one was more exciting than the last.

In addition, he spent some of that time educating me about his father. Icharus left me with letters and newspaper clippings to read in my free time, while he did whatever it was rich young men did with their daylight hours. As I learned more about the elder Mr. DeVille and his dealings in both politics and murder, each new piece of information strengthened my resolve to see his plan through.

So why did this need to involve the two of us going to a dinner out at an upscale bistro frequented by the Regime?

As if sensing my confusion, Icharus leaned closer and said, “There’s no reason why we can’t mix a little business with pleasure. Wouldn’t you agree? Besides, I need to show off my new courtesan. If I don’t make the usual public appearances, it might look suspicious. The first rule of pulling off a believable lie is not changing your behavior.”

I tightened my hand on his forearm and gave a nod. Mixing business and pleasure didn’t seem to be a problem for us. Every night I spent with him was more intense and exciting than the last. Staying calm in a public place
infested
with Regime militia and cronies, however? While the teachings at school had included how to fake your way through anything from social situations to bad sex, I was sure my racing heart would somehow give me away.

How could I conceal my hatred for the tyranny that oppressed our country and the tragic results of it?

Icharus moved his arm from beneath my hand to wrap it around my shoulders, steadying me. When I turned and looked into his eyes, I knew he was there to take care of me. I took a deep breath and smiled at him. I could do this, with him at my side. He had spent these two short weeks grooming me, I realized, teaching me to depend upon him and showing me that he was true to his word. If he promised or threatened something, he made good on it.

Yes, he was here for me.

I wasn’t so nervous anymore. I was here to see and be seen, and in the end it would be worth stepping across enemy lines.

The maître d’ seated us in a booth against the wall, where we could watch the comings and goings of other patrons. As a young girl, I’d looked at places like this – restaurants and exclusive clubs – and wondered what went on inside them. Nearly every night, my mother dressed up in the most beautiful dresses she had. They shimmered, sparkled, and showed off every curve of her body. At the time, I thought her life must be glamorous, that men adored her, and I aspired to be just like her. Her appearance, I knew now, was calculated to please one man in particular.

The one who had fatally betrayed her.

“Welcome to the Calumny Club, a den of sin or heavenly delights, depending on your perspective,” Icharus said, running his fingers along the insides of my thighs beneath the table. “What do you think?”

The white dress I wore had an asymmetrical skirt that was much shorter in the front than the back. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric and my breath hitched. My breasts were confined by the rigid corset top, my cleavage on rather reckless display. As far as I was concerned, Icharus had chosen the dress for one reason – to make me extremely uncomfortable in the restaurant. He loved toying with me where others could see. Then again, I loved being toyed with in public. It frightened and excited me.

“I think,” I breathed and tried to ignore his touch, a touch with which I had become quite familiar, “we should speak of business and nothing else. Help me make sense of how coming out together benefits you. It’s no secret I hate your family, and if someone here were to recognize me as Delilah’s daughter–”

“They would be delighted to think the Johnstone family was finally taken in hand by the Regime. Trust me, having you here where the other members can see us together will benefit you immensely. You are not a threat to them, but a prize. The more likely they are to think you belong to me, the less suspicion will fall upon you as you get closer to my father.” So he had thought it through. Still…

“He’s the last person I want to get close to,” I shot back. Yes, emulating my mother was turning out to be nothing like the dream I’d once envisioned. But my flaring anger was steeling my resolve to either work with DeVille or fight him until the bitter end.

“Like it or not, you’ll need to play nice for just a little while.” His voice had lowered, taking on the seductive quality I now recognized. Telling me what to do turned him on. Me fighting him turned him on even more.

I turned my gaze on him and said, “Define playing nice.” He hadn’t quite laid out a detailed plan just yet, but the research he had given me had also given me more reasons to buy into his scheme. His father was directly involved in more crimes against humanity than I had ever imagined.

To my surprise, Icharus climbed atop me right there in the restaurant, pressing me down against the padded booth seat. “Playing nice means doing what I say until the job is done,” he answered, his breath hot on my neck. “Do you understand or do I need to introduce you to the lash tonight?”

“We need… rules… limits,” I answered with a gasp. “This is still business…” Business that was making my thighs slick with desire.

“As a slave, you have no limits and the rules are whatever I say they are. This is what you were trained to do.” He trailed one of his fingers down along my neck and traced the outline of one of my stiffening nipples through the fabric of the dress. “Now, we can do this in a very public place or a private one. Let me assure you, I am not shy.”

I swallowed and shook my head at him.

“Private it is, then, as long as you don’t question me. Behave yourself and I’ll reward you.” He kissed the tip of my nose, then slid back to a sitting position.

I also sat up and, to my mortification, realized a waiter was standing by our table. I groped for the menu, opened it, and ordered the first thing that caught my eye. Heat spread across my face like wildfire and I kept her gaze down once I handed the menu off to the server.

“For a slave, you certainly are timid,” Icharus observed too loudly for my liking.

I slid a glance to the waiter and muttered, “I’m not accustomed to being… played with in public.”

Icharus chuckled and gave his order. As soon as the waiter took two steps away from the table, my patron turned to me and said, “That wasn’t playing with you.” He pushed his hand beneath my dress once more, causing the silk and tulle skirt to ride up to my hips. Beneath the table, everything was on display.
Everything
. His hand thrust between my legs to find my panties and stroked my vagina through them. “This is playing in public and I can tell it turns you on. I want you to tell me what bothers you so much about it.”

“It’s… embarrassing,” I whispered.

“And you like it,” he answered, his fingers delving beneath the flimsy fabric to brush over my clitoris. I opened my mouth to deny it, but he continued, “You like the humiliation of this public play, and I know it, which is why I’m doing it. Knowing I can make you wet and aroused and vulnerable like this just by playing with you where someone else might see us turns me on too. Do you think anyone can hear this?” With that, he pressed two fingers inside my pussy and moved them in and out, making moist, intimate sounds. When I opened my mouth to protest further, he reached his other hand around to draw the top of my dress down and to the side, exposing one of my nipples.

I sighed and tried not to lean into his touch, but as Icharus’s lips found my neck, I could not stop myself. My hips lifted of their own accord, inviting his fingers to continue. Then I heard a deep voice say, “So, you finally took my advice and got yourself a courtesan.”

Icharus sat up straighter, pulling my dress back into place from one hem to the other. Even though I was covered once more, I still felt very exposed as he said, “Yes, father, I did. This is Adette Johnstone. She is one of St. Eden’s most notable students.”

“Of course she is.” Mr. DeVille nodded at me and I stiffened under his cold scrutiny. Lustful feelings
gone
. “I knew your mother,” he added, his flinty gaze holding mine.

Before I could respond, Icharus said, “We are well aware of that. I don’t think there’s a person in LA who doesn’t know you had an affair with the famous Delilah Johnstone.”

“So now you have been matched with her daughter. How interesting.” The tall, slender man took a long drag on his cigar, his gray eyes examining every inch of me.

Part of me wanted to stand up and drive a steak knife through his heart. Tension froze me in place, though. That, and common sense. I knew if I attacked him, everyone in the place wearing a military uniform would be on me in a heartbeat.

Icharus squeezed my hand in his – another reminder not to make a move just yet. “Well,” his father continued, “I’m sorry to see Delilah’s ample charms did not pass on to the next generation, but she’s adequate enough for your first match.”

Hatred flared in me and, again, I quivered with rage. I wasn’t sure what infuriated me more – the insult or the implication that Icharus would have others…

“Your tastes and mine are not one and the same,” Icharus pointed out in a low voice.

I blinked and as my breathing evened out, I realized there was something more sinister between father and son than I had imagined. Even though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, I saw the friction between both men. It was more than competition, more than a textbook desire to earn a difficult parent’s approval… but what was it that drove this palpable hatred I felt in the stiff body sitting next to mine?

“True, you and I have never seen eye to eye on such matters.” Mr. DeVille scrutinized me another moment in the same manner one examines an insect, then shrugged. “As long as she presents well to our Regime clients and society, that is what matters. You can speak, I take it, Miss Johnstone?”

I realized his question was directed at me, and I focused on controlling my own anger before opening my mouth.
Remember to behave as if nothing is wrong, as if you belong here.
“I speak fluently, if the opportunity presents itself,” I answered, adding what I hoped was a charming smile and tossing my hair. “In what language would you like to converse, Mr. DeVille?”

He chuckled and said, “Surprise me, my dear, with your talents.”

I let a smile curve my lips and responded to him in French.

“Ah, the elementary language taught in all schools, as well as Spanish.” Mr. DeVille shrugged and started to turn away from us.

That was only the first trick I had up my sleeve. Without skipping a beat, I switched to a lengthy Russian greeting that told him I was so happy to meet him.

“Come again,” he said, turning back to us, his thin eyebrows meeting over his nose.

My smile widened. “Oh, you don’t speak Russian?” I asked, accompanying the question with a flutter of my eyelashes.

“No, but it seems you do.” He brushed his fingers over the lapel of his suit. Though he tried to look and sound bored, I saw a flicker of interest in his expression. “Still, rather pedestrian, do not you think?”

I pursed my lips and responded in Hindi. When Mr. DeVille said nothing, I continued in English. “Perhaps you prefer Arabic? Or back to the European Federation, where I can speak German. Then again, I’m sure you have many associates from the Oriental States. Japanese and Chinese are very basic, of course, so now that I consider it, I doubt my fluency there would be of use to you. Maybe you would prefer I speak Korean or Cantonese instead? I understand many overseas operations are moving into those countries.”

After a long moment, Mr. DeVille switched his gaze back to Icharus. “I see you chose her, not for her looks, but her mind. She speaks with some knowledge of what’s going on in our world. She could be useful in our international dealings, as both a translator and a little toy for investors to play with.”

I watched the pulse in Mr. DeVille’s throat throb a bit faster and held back a grin. So because I made him nervous, he needed to find a way to reduce me to nothing more than a fucktoy?
You have given yourself away, you bastard. You hate and fear intelligent women.

“Mind you,” he continued to speak to Icharus, “see to it that choice does not come back to bite you in the ass, as it did with her mother… or yours.” He gave a nod and moved on through the room.

A strangled sound emerged from Icharus’s throat and I lowered my eyes, no longer pleased with myself. “Shit. Did I give away too much there?”

“I think you gave away just enough. I expected him to gloat a touch more, but I think you put him off-kilter in a good way. He’s intrigued by you now.” Despite his words, Icharus did not look confident. In fact, his skin had paled to an ashy white that worried me. Without thinking, I reached up to smooth the line of frustration that crinkled his forehead.